#but i’m saying she’s one of few and that’s definitely part of why her character is so well loved

[frodo-in-a-fez]

every now and again i think about how bart curlish was a man in the original pitch for dghda and i become filled with an intense and seething rage the likes of which this world has not yet witnessed

[1-800-kami]

R U MINE? feat. gojo satoru

gojo satoru has got to be the picture definition of a stereotypical college frat boy. he’s cocky, loaded with his daddy’s money, and dangerously handsome. it seems like common sense to stay away from him since you’ll never get more than a one-night stand out of it. 

that’s why you choose to turn a blind eye once you’ve come to the horrific realization: you’re in love with him. and you’re just itching to ask…

“are you mine tomorrow? or just mine tonight?”

IMPORTANT: part two is out! read here :)

content: 8k words, afab!reader, angst! fluff! heartbreak! n everything in between! implied smut, rich college frat boy gojo and hellcat driver geto 🤑, emotional rollercoaster, reader has a toxic ex, trust issues (?) gojo is absolutely insufferable, misunderstandings, use of words hoe, slut, etc., mutual pining, some jjk character cameos (wink wink) me writing very unfunny dialogue, no bc wtf is this, cheating implications, emo gojo (the worst warning of them all)

author's note: hello hello! my name is kami, i've been reblogging fics on tumblr for a while now but i've recently figured out how to work this hellsite, so i'm going to start posting fics that i write! thank you to those who enjoyed my nanami drabble <3 kisses 4 u all.

this fic IS split into two parts and there is smut in the second part. so just. prepare yourselves for that ig.

reblog and interact for a kiss ;)

“so… let me get this straight.”

“go ahead.”

shoko takes a deep breath, and you just somehow know that she’s pinching her nose in exasperation right now. “utahime dragged you out to a party in hopes that you would hit it off with somebody. you wander off on your own and later, she sees you and gojo–THE gojo satoru–giving you his number?!”

“uh, yeah. that’s exactly what happened.”

“do you even understand what you’re getting yourself into?! that man bags hoes like they’re pokemon!” you readjust the phone against your ear and sigh at shoko’s comment. 

“okay, first of all, never say that again. second, i rejected all of his advances. i didn’t even save his number.” you stare at the crinkled-up note in your hands, which proudly displays his number and a slick call me if you change your mind ;). you wonder if you could sell this paper to his fangirls–you’d surely make a little bit of cash out of it. “i’ve seen gojo around. i know that i shouldn’t mess with him. plus, he was drunk as hell at the party; i doubt he even remembers my name. to him, i’m just some chick that he’s frustrated at because she didn’t want to fuck him the second she saw him.”

“do you… do you share any classes with him?”

“i don’t think i do.. just, don’t worry about it, okay? i’ll throw away his number and we can put all of this behind us. here, i’ll do it right now.” you rip up the paper into a few pieces before tossing it in the garbage can. hopefully, you did it loud enough that shoko heard it through the phone. “i get that you’re worried for me. and i appreciate that, but i can handle myself.”

“just… no more mention of gojo anymore, okay? you’re right, y/n. let’s just put this all behind us.” shoko sighs, and you smile at that. problem solved. you threw away his number, and he’s most likely moved on to the next girl by now, so that was that. now, you just have to forget about satoru gojo.

all to never let yourself get hurt ever again.

it’s hard to forget about gojo.

not because of those dangerous blue eyes of his–getting anyone lost in them if they stare for too long. not because of his stupid silvery white hair, which makes him look like a mop, and sometimes like a paintbrush. not that stupid cocky grin of his, either…

...but because you’ve recently found out that he sits next to you for physics.

the revelation was truly disheartening. you thought you could avoid him for the rest of the year because as far as you knew, you shared no classes with him. however, you completely forgot about the fact that gojo never attends class in the first place, and you don’t even know what classes he’s in… because he’s never there. so finding out that the seat next to you in physics wasn’t just an empty seat, and it was gojo’s assigned one, was truly an experience.

“gojo.” the name alone makes your heart stop, and you drop your pen to look at the man your teacher was addressing. “finally choosing to attend class for once?”

speak of the devil.

there he was, in all his glory–the man you’d never thought you had to deal with ever again. the man who tried to butter you up with his corny sweet talk so that you would go home with him for the night. the man who persisted with talking to you, even though you were barely interested. the man, who, at the end of the night, insisted on writing down his number for you in case you changed your mind about him and gave him a chance.

you wanted to shrink into your seat and never resurface. 

“good morning, yaga!” he says rather loudly, with no regard to honorifics at all. a few giggles could be heard across the classroom–though geto suguru’s voice was prominent–satoru’s equally as infamous bestfriend. “and yeah! it’s surprising, isn’t it?”

what’s also surprising is how gojo took a seat next to you. you thought that there was a mistake, that your teacher would scold him for sitting somewhere he isn’t supposed to sit and relocate him elsewhere. however, yaga just grumbles and begins the lesson, leaving you helpless and unable to look at the man next to you.

you swear he’s burning holes at the back of your head.

pleasdon’tremembermeisweartogodpleasedon’trememberme-

“you’re that girl from the party, right?” he whispers, and you’ve never wanted to disappear so badly in your life. you slowly nod your head, turning to look at him, and he pouts. “y/n l/n. you never saved my number. hmph, i was looking forward to a text from you, too.”

“i’m surprised you even remember me, 'cause you were fucking wasted that night.” you twiddle your pencil, averting your gaze from the man. “and i never saved your number cause i threw the paper in the trash. it’s probably at a landfill somewhere, y’know.”

your words catch him off guard, and you laugh at how surprised satoru looks. it seems that’s definitely not an emotion he shows often. despite his initial reaction, satoru swears he could feel butterflies with the way your laugh sounds.

“not a common problem for a womanizer, huh?”

“what did you just call me?!-”

“y/n and gojo, do either of you have something to share with the class?” a dark blush of embarrassment covers your face, and somewhere in the back, you could hear geto snickering. gojo just smirks at yaga, seeming completely uanffected. “then i’d suggest you stay quiet the rest of this lesson. don’t make me separate you two.”

“i’d prefer that, actually…” gojo huffs at your comment, thinking of this as a lost opportunity if the two of you get separated. he does a once over at your appearance. you’re cute, but definitely not the party kind. you’re playing hard to get, and gojo finds it adorable–not a lot of girls go that way with him. however, gojo thinks you’re not just like any girl. there’s something different about you that intrigues him.

“did no one ever tell you that it’s rude to stare?”

“how could i not? you’re so cute.” 

“i thought you already learned from the party, gojo. i’m not interested in you.” 

the light blush coating your cheeks says otherwise. he smiles cheekily at the way you tried to hide your reaction to his words. you’re an enigma to gojo… and he’s drawn to you like a moth to a flame. he thinks he’s made his decision.

he’s gonna do whatever’s possible to get your number.

when the bell rings 30 minutes later, you shove your notebook into your bag, eager to finally leave the class that you had with that stupid paintbrush. that is, until he stops you with a question. “what class do you have next?”

he’s relentless. “why do you care?”

“i want to walk you to your next class,” he says, and smirks before saying his next words. “it doesn’t really matter if you tell me or not. i’ll just follow you anyways.”

you sigh, absolutely exasperated with him. he’s like a fly who keeps invading your personal space—always coming back no matter how many times you swat it away. he’s right, though. damn him for being stubborn. “i actually have this period free.”

“oh, sweet!” he chirps, walking with you out the door, making sure to greet geto before he leaves the classroom. “let’s go to the courtyard. i’ll buy you a drink from the vending machine-“

“i was gonna do that regardless if you were here or not.” you give him a look, and you can’t help but tug on your sleeves when you see people whisper to each other as you walk the halls with gojo. of course you’ve heard the rumors. the man next to you is the most popular guy on campus. girls glare daggers at you and the guys call his name, although he barely even acknowledges them. 

some common things that you’ve heard about gojo around the school are: “i heard he only talks to girls for sex,” “apparently his best friend geto is just as much of a player!” “i mean, who wouldn’t fuck a guy like gojo, though? he’s hot and loaded.” “that’s how he reels you in, though. he gets his hand in your pants and never calls you back again.” you know you should stay away from him, it’s common sense, but it’s hard to stay away from him when he’s the one who glues himself to your side. 

“well, now you’ll get a free drink and we’ll get to know each other! isn’t that great?” he smiles and you just grimace at his words. 

“i don’t need your money…”

“don’t care! can’t hear you!” he says, and you’ve seriously considered just making a run for it. at least you’ll lose him, and you’d finally be able to find peace for a bit. although, it would cause a scene, and gojo would probably end up finding you again somehow. 

“what can i do to get you to leave me alone?”

that piques his interest, even though he looks slightly hurt by your question. he thinks for a bit, and smirks. “i really do want to buy you something from the vending machine.. and i want you to spend your free period with me. i’ll leave you alone for the rest of the day if you do.”

“do you promise? like, actually?”

“mhm! pinky promise!” you feel like you’re talking to a prepubescent boy.

“then sure-“ you’re about to agree, but he cuts you off with one more condition.

“i also want your number.”

you feel like you’ve been cursed by a god, because having the most popular guy on campus be interested in you has got to be the most chaotic thing to ever happen in your life.

“what do you have me saved as?” 

the question comes from out of the blue, and you look up from the book you were completely absorbed in. you and satoru were at the school library, on a “study date” as he calls it, although it was more so just gojo inviting himself to wherever place you go, as per usual. this time, you have an exam to study for, and you explicitly told him not to bother you unless absolutely necessary.

you do have to say, though, he’s not annoying as you thought he was. he just nagged you way more the first day he sat next to you in physics so he could get your number. it’s been a few days since then, but still, you’d definitely be more efficient in your studies if you didn’t have him attached to your hip all the time.

“satoru, i told you not to bother me-“

“unless absolutely necessary. yeah, i heard you, and this question needs an absolutely necessary answer! contact names really say a lot about our relationship, y’know.”

“relationship? nobody ever said we were even friends-“

“don’t break my heart like that, babe. plus, you don’t call me gojo anymore! it’s satoru to you now,” his heart warms at that realization, and you scoff, especially at the pet name. “we are friends, unless you’d like to be something more...”

“if you say anything else i’m calling you by your government name. gojo satoru.” he looks especially wounded by that.

“ah! don’t do that, please. it feels like we’re a married couple and you’re really mad at me.” he cries and you can’t help but giggle at his words. you decide to entertain him a little bit, fishing through your pocket to find your phone. 

he almost passes out at what he sees on your screen.

“it’s just my number? you didn’t even save my contact?!-“

the shushes from your fellow students and the librarians aren’t even enough to calm gojo’s agony and despair. it also does nothing to stop your laughter, either.

from that day on, gojo’s contact was forcefully changed from his number to “satoru” (he initially added a heart, but you deleted it, much to his disappointment) and one of his many selfies from his stupid instagram account. how the hell can a college student even have thousands of followers?! you think. 

gojo just says that nobody can resist his shirtless post-workout selfies. you’re surprised that you didn’t slap him at his words.

you push him away.

everytime gojo buys your favorite drink, (it’s always on him, despite your genuine insistence in saying that you could pay for your drink just fine.) everytime he walks you to all of your classes each day, (he memorized your schedule just so he could do this) everytime he buys you your favorite foods on the rare instances that you let him take you out for lunch, (usually, this requires a lot of begging, and you mostly relent during class when you’re just exasperated and wanted to get some notes down.), and everytime he calls you by those stupid pet names of his, you think back to what the entire student body says about him, and you think back to your phone call with shoko, where she warns you to not associate with him so you don’t get hurt by anyone ever again, and you push him away.

you push him away even when you realize that if he just wanted you for sex, he would’ve stopped chasing after you when you didn’t text him after that night at the party.

and that thought alone scares you.

still, you’re not heartless. satoru’s been asking to take you out for a while, and you finally agreed to go today. he’s especially chipper about your agreement right now, walking with a slight pep in his step as he bit around his ice cream cone. 

the park boasts some beautiful scenery today, and little children are out and about. still, you underestimated the weather, and the cold uncomfortably nipped your arms as you internally cursed yourself out for wearing just a shirt. you crossed your arms as a subtle way to shield yourself from the cold.

“don’t play coy with me, y/n. are you cold?” satoru says with a cocky grin, and you huff at his question. surprisingly, he drops the teasing act and unzips his sweater, handing it to you. “here, take it.”

“satoru-“

“i’m not doing this to flirt or whatever you’re thinking right now. you’re shivering, and i’m just concerned for you, so please wear it.” he deadpans, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him be so… upfront? you kind of like it. it’s not him teasing you or him being flirty. it’s just him showing that he genuinely cares for you as a friend. you take the sweater with a nod and put it on, ignoring how your heart is thumping as you take in his signature smell. cedarwood with a little bit of musk. it’s not an overpowering scent, but it still envelopes your senses.

“nevermind. you look so cute with my hoodie on. i feel like we’re in a j-drama right now, y/n!”

you take back everything you just said.

a few minutes later, you two are near the kids playground when you decide to take a break from walking, sitting on a nearby bench with gojo. the chirping of the birds and the wind passing through the trees is quickly overpowered by loud crying. crying from the child right in front of you, in fact.

you’re about to ask him what’s wrong, but satoru beats you to it. he kneels in front of the kid, and coos, “hey, buddy. what’s your name, hm?”

he stops crying for a moment to look at gojo and shakily responds, “gumi-um, megumi fushiguro..” 

“megumi, huh.” he clicks his tongue for a moment. “why are you crying, megumi?”

“i-i don’t know where my dad is!” he cries, and satoru looks to you for help. you just shrug, unsure of what to do with the lost kid, until gojo’s face lights up, assumingly with a great idea.

“he’s most likely just around here somewhere. you can wait with us, and we’ll help you find him! say, do you want an ice cream to help you feel better, megumi?” the boy hesitantly nods, and satoru gives him a thumbs up as he takes him to the nearby ice cream stand. you’re watching this entire scene unfold, absolutely enamored with gojo for the first time. you didn’t think he had a natural talent with kids—but the way he’s making megumi laugh while he happily snacks on his ice cream says otherwise. an outsider could look at you three and assume that you’re just a happy family. 

you try to ignore how that makes you feel.

and as you wave goodbye to megumi once he eventually is reunited with his father again, (an intimidating man who gave you two an appreciative nod as he walked away with his son.) you realize something as you tug on the sleeves of your-satoru’s sweater. 

you’re in love with gojo satoru.

and fuck, that revelation scares you more than anything. the last time you had given your heart to a man, he had crushed it repeatedly until you decided that you would never let yourself be vulnerable like that ever again. 

and now, you're in love with your school’s notorious playboy—and it feels like you’re setting yourself up to be heartbroken again. you want disregard those rumors and shoko’s words so badly, but they still eat at the back of your mind even though the real gojo satoru is right in front of you, and he doesn’t match the characteristics of the gojo satoru in those rumors at all.

you also remember that he has one real best friend, geto suguru. you like to think that this is also what geto sees in gojo. the reason why he’s stuck around.

the reason why you want to stick around too.

you’re so busy in your head that you’ve just noticed gojo frantically waving his hand in your face. “earth to y/n? oh, good! i thought you had, like, a shock reaction from seeing megumi’s father. he looked a little scary, no?” 

“he looks like if a muscle came to life and started talking.” you whisper, and he laughs in agreement. burying your hands into the pockets of his hoodie, you smile. you don’t want to think about your current revelation with gojo right now. instead, you’ll stick with the present. and right now, you like the present.

you just don’t want to think about what this means for your future.

it’s the weekend, and you’re doing some work at the local cafe, gojo-free for once. only god knows what the man is doing at three pm in the afternoon on a saturday. not like you should be thinking about him right now, though. his presence alone has caused you to be behind on your studies, and you need to make sure you catch up.

you have to admit, you were a little unused to the silence. usually, the silence would be filled with gojo’s endless banter with you, as well as his terrible, corny jokes that are so stupid you can’t help but laugh. his seemingly never-ending presence was annoying at first, but now, you’re starting to yearn for his company.

it further fuels the pit of uncertainty in your stomach, and you hate it.

shaking your head with a sigh, you take another bite of your pastry and continue typing up the report on your laptop. the looming thought of this report’s impact on your grade and the need to pass this class helps you forget about satoru for a while. once again, you get lost in your academics.

the ring of the cafe bell breaks you from your trance. it was a natural impulse of yours to glance at everyone who entered the cafe, but once you did this time, you felt your heart drop down to your knees.

it was your ex. 

your ex boyfriend who destroyed the notion of love for you, because he made you feel it for a short time, only to throw it all into a pit of fire and leave you scrambling to find nothing but ashes. 

if you had to find the true roots as to why you’re so afraid to pursue a new relationship–you always find your ex in the center of it. and now, he’s right in front of you. you have to face him again when you refuse to shamefully admit that you’ve barely even healed from the emotional scars that he’d left behind. 

you feel as if an invisible hand has wrapped itself around your throat, blocking your airways and your ability to speak.

out of all the days satoru wasn’t here with you, it had to be this one.

“y/n? is that you, sweetheart?” you wanted to vomit at the way he said your name. he had no right to say it so sweetly, when all he’s ever left behind is venom. 

“i don’t want to talk to you.” you cringe at the way your voice cracks, and you avert your gaze from him.

“please, just hear me out for a minute, baby..” he coos, and you hate the way he talks to you as if you were a child. “i know i fucked up, and i can’t change our past… but i can change our future together. if you take me back, i’ll show you how much i’ve changed-”

you don’t know how many times you’ve heard that stupid line before.

“god, you sound like a broken record with how many times you’ve pulled that bullshit on me.” you spat, loud enough to draw commotion in the cafe. your ex has surprise written all over his face–most likely due to your non-compliance to his words. “what, do you say that shit to all your hoes?”

your ex looks around, shrinking a little when he sees all eyes are on him. “now, now, y/n, no need to be like that-”

“be like that… be like that?! you’re telling me to be civil when you’re the one coming in here wanting me back, spouting some bullshit saying that you’ve changed, when i told you to leave me alone already!” you scream, and you could feel the tears bubble up in your eyes. you look down, so you aren’t able to see how everyone’s staring at you with pity. god, you hate pity. it makes you feel weak and vulnerable. the two emotions you absolutely loathe. “i just want you to leave me alone, god. i hate you, why won’t you just-”

“you fucking bitch-” he makes a move to lunge at you, and you instinctively take a step back, pure fear enveloping your senses.

you never feel the impact, though, as you see your ex being restrained by the cafe worker.

you remember him. the man who took your order earlier. he was an older man with a warm smile on his face, although you noticed how his cheekbones were slightly sunken, and he looked a little overworked. you jokingly quipped earlier that he should get some sleep before thanking him for making your order. he just replied, i get that quite a lot.

the size difference between your ex and the man is enough to discourage him from fighting back. he makes quick work your ex, dragging him out the door while he hysterically screams profanities to you on the way out. you assumed the worker threatened to call the police, because your ex scrambled up from the ground and ran away. you hoped this was the last time you would ever see him again.

“are you okay, ma’am? he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

you didn’t even realize that the worker was back inside the cafe. everyone was gradually returning to their own businesses, with the eerie silence being replaced by casual chatter once more. you also didn’t realize how much your hands were shaking, and you huff out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “y-yeah, i’m alright, and he didn’t hit me. i just… need a minute,”

you decide that you aren’t gonna get anymore work done like this, so you pack your laptop into your bag and slump onto the seat with a sigh. you bury your face into your hands. “is it a long story?”

“oh, don’t even get me started.”

he laughs at that, and you ease up a little. “i told him i’d call the police if i ever see him around here again.”

“that’s good to hear. though i’d prefer if i never see him in my life ever again.”

he hums at your words, and he turns to look out the window. “it’s getting dark out. do you want me to call you a cab?”

“no need, i’ll call my boyf–my friend. i’ll call my friend. he’ll uh, pick me up.” you’re still so shaken up you barely even register what you said to him. your eyes are frantic as you turn your phone on and look for gojo’s name in your contacts. you don’t know why you want him to pick you up out of everybody. you could ask utahime or shoko right now, but you just wanted nothing more but to see gojo.

the bell rings again, and you flinch at the sound. thankfully, it was just another customer. the worker sighs. “well, these orders aren’t going to be done themselves. just wave me over if there are any other problems, okay?” 

you nod absentmindedly, and he turns to leave, but you stop him. “wait, sir, what’s your name?”

“kento nanami.”

“thank you so much, nanami. i appreciate it.” 

“i’m just doing my job.”

“your job is restraining crazy exes of college girls and kicking them out?”

“‘it comes with the job description.” he teases, and you laugh lightheartedly. “and your name is?”

“y/n l/n.”

“anytime, miss l/n. again, just please… call me over if anything happens.”

“will do…” you say, pressing the “call” button on gojo’s contact. the anxiety is hitting you again, and you take a shaky inhale. you’re surprised at how he picks up almost instantly. “hey… satoru? yeah, can you come pick me up, please? i know i don’t normally ask you to do something like this but-”

“did something happen?”

“a lot happened, actually… i’ll text you the address. please, just come soon.”

“of course, y/n.” you could already hear him running out the door, hearing the roar of his car engine coming to life. “i’ll be there as soon as possible.”

he gets to the cafe in five.

you wave goodbye to nanami, thanking him once more as you get in the passenger seat of gojo’s car. 

it’s not your first time inside here, but you still can’t help but admire how… expensive everything looks. or maybe you’re just looking around because you’re stalling, and you have no idea where to begin with satoru. 

however, you notice that he’s not asking you what happened, and he’s not forcing you to explain anything to him. instead, he switches the gear shift out of parking and says, “do you want me to take you home?”

your eyes widen at his words, and you shake your head no profusely. the last thing you want to be is home alone right now, mainly because your ex knows where you live. you know he most likely won’t go that far with you, especially since nanami knocked some sense into him… but the possibilities still scare you. you take a deep breath before saying your next words.

“...can you take me to your house? i-i’m sorry for asking, i just don’t want to be alone right now cause i’m terrified and-” 

“y-yeah. i’ll take you to my house.” he says, and you’ve never seen him so nervous in your life. it almost makes you laugh.

“i’ll explain everything later. i just… wanna be somewhere safe first.” somewhere safe. you find his house as a safe place. gojo doesn’t know how to react. his heart is thumping wildly out of his chest, but he makes sure to put your own comfort before his feelings.

“you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” he says, maintaining his cool by keeping his eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear shift.

“but i want to, satoru…” you say. you can’t believe you’re doing this again. you’re crossing so many territories that you were so afraid to cross because of your ex. now, you think you aren’t that afraid anymore. not if you have satoru by your side. 

you place one of your cold hands on the gear stick, interlocking it with his. is he… shaking? “thank you for this.”

still. there are so many things you can’t say to him yet. you don’t know when you’ll be able to… or if you’ll ever be able to.

i love you. i love you but i’m too afraid to say it. i just hope that you’ll be able to wait for me.

“god, you’re killin’ me here, y/n.” 

that pit of uncertainty in your stomach has grown so large you feel it's about to consume you whole. you don’t think you mind much, though.

the two of you are lounging at his couch after satoru insisted on telling you to make yourself at home. there’s a movie playing, with neither of you paying attention at all, takeout on the coffee table, two glasses and a bottle of wine after gojo didn’t know what drinks to serve, and freaked out by pulling the first expensive drink out from his parents’ alcohol closet. has he never properly invited someone to his home before?

“so in short, you had a crazy ex who saw you at the coffee shop… and he was begging for you to take him back, and when you went off on him he called you a bitch and tried to hit you…” he recalls, a huge grimace on his face. “tch. the cafe worker shouldn’t have let him go like that.”

“i’m sure he learned not to mess with me after getting humiliated in public.. and nanami did more than enough for me.” you retorted, and he gave you a sour look. 

“oh, so you know the worker’s name now?” he says, and you could feel the tension build up in the air. oh. so he wants to do this with you? “what, is he your knight in shining armor?”

“he looks like he’s in his late thirties, satoru. i’m not into older guys,” you roll your eyes at his absurd questions and add, “what’s it to you anyway?”

“what’s it to me, y/n?” he repeats your words, and you could feel an argument coming, like you already didn’t have an exhaustive one with your ex. “you know how i feel about you-“

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” your voice is getting louder, all to hide your fear behind the implication of his words. you distance yourself from him on the couch.. much like how you distance yourself from letting satoru get too close to how you truly feel. “we’re not even together, satoru. you don’t get to control the guys that i talk to- hell, have you even seen yourself?”

you’re rambling, and all you want to do is shut up, but you can’t bring yourself to. “i’ve heard what our school says about you. y-you’re a playboy, right? and you only ever talk to girls because you wanna fuck them. i’m not stupid, satoru. i’m not different from any of them, right? you only chase after me because i’m playing hard to get and that pisses you off-“

“what… what are you even saying, y/n?” he asks, and it stops your rambling for a moment. you don’t know what you’re saying. you’re pouring out all the reasons why you’ve tried to push him away, the reasons why you were so afraid to give your heart to him. but now that you say them out loud, they sound outright stupid. 

“i started coming to class just to talk to you, i memorized your schedule just so i can walk you to class every morning. i buy you all your favorite food and drinks… i had to memorize your favorites too, by the way. and i have shit memory.” he’s screaming at this point, and you’ve never had satoru scream at you. there are unshed tears in his eyes, and it’s all overwhelming to watch this unfold. “and when you called me, i drove as fast as i could to you because you never call like that and i was fuckin’ worried!”

“so let me ask you a question, y/n… would i do all these things for you just because i want you in my bed?! i’d do anything for you, and you know that!” he’s crying. the gojo satoru is crying, and it’s all for a girl. if you told this to someone in your school, they’d call you a shit-faced liar. gojo satoru doesn’t cry for a girl. he makes them cry.

“i’m sorry for being skeptical, satoru! i just can’t help it when there’s so many rumors about you wanting to fuck girls just for the shit of it – and i’m conflicted on whether or not i should believe them because i want you so bad and i’m scared you’ll end up just breaking my heart and i don’t want that to happen again-”

he cuts you off. “you… what?”

you’re confused at why he looks so surprised, but then you backtrack on your words and you gasp. fuck. why did i say that? you cover your mouth and look away from him, refusing to meet his eyes.

those stupid blue eyes that you know you can’t get enough of.

“y/n… can you please say that again? i don’t want to do anything if i didn’t hear you right.” his voice is soft now, and you swear that you’re dreaming. this isn’t real. right? i’m gonna wake up soon. you dig your nails into the palms of your hands, leaving half-moon marks in their wake. it doesn’t work, and you don’t wake up, and you know you have to accept the fact that this is very real and it’s happening.

this is the worst leap of faith you think you’ve ever had to take in your life.

“i want you so fucking bad, satoru. and i’m realizing that you’re not just the stereotypical rich playboy that everyone talks about on campus—you’re a really great guy, and i guess i’m just scared to face that-” you don’t even realize that satoru’s got you cornered on the couch, and you can’t finish your words as he slots his lips against yours. hard. it’s the most passionate kiss you think you’ve ever had in your life, and it’s got your breath taken away in seconds. holy shit.

you quietly moan against his lips as you kiss back, cupping his face with your hands and wiping his tears away. you wish this moment would last forever, but you pull away so you can breathe. you meet gojo’s eyes, and they’re clouded with lust and desire, but you could tell he’s still a little uncertain. “we’ll talk later… just take me to the bedroom already,”

gojo doesn’t need another confirmation from you, and he lifts you up to carry you to his bedroom, practically tripping on his feet the way there.

a few hours later and a noise complaint from the neighbors, it’s safe to say that gojo satoru was the best one you’ve ever had.

“god, i’m never letting you go, baby.”

he’s tracing hearts onto your bare back. it’s littered with bruises and red scratch marks just from a few minutes ago, but you’ve never felt better in your life. you stare at the man who invited himself into your life just from an encounter at a party, and you thank your lucky stars that you agreed to go with utahime that night. “is something wrong? you’re starin’ again.”

“i’m sorry it took me so long to trust you. i’ve just been scared to open up my heart again, especially after him.” you don’t have to name “him” for satoru to understand. 

“i’m sorry too. i just got angry about the rumors and i also disregarded the fact that you’re scared to love again after your ex did all of that shit and-” he pauses, and sighs. “sorry. i’m rambling again.” 

he pulls you into another kiss, and this time, it’s sweeter, lighter, and full of love. “i’m going to show you what it looks like to really be loved, because it’s definitely not the shitty picture that your ex painted in your head. there’s way more to it than that.”

“i love you, y/n.”

“thank you, toru.” you whisper. maybe, one day, you’ll be able to find the courage to say it back. and it’s okay, because gojo is willing to wait an eternity for you. 

he’ll wait an eternity for you to teach you how to love again.

“look at how beautiful you are…” gojo says, appearing out of nowhere as he wraps an arm around your waist. you yelp, staring at your boyfriend through the mirror. he’s wearing a classic black tuxedo, with no doubt it being very expensive. it compliments the glimmering rolex on his wrist, and the thoughts running through your head about him and his outfit sets fire to your stomach.

“look at yourself first, toru… god, we should just stay home,” you tease, turning around to pull him into a deep kiss. it’s a friday, and gojo’s taking you out to attend geto’s party tonight. the two of you are going for several reasons. he wants to introduce you to his bestfriend, since you realized that you’ve never actually formally met geto before. it’ll also be your first formal “couple appearance”, as if gojo being attached to your side all the time doesn’t say enough about the two of you already. 

gojo pulls away, which surprises you. you pout at the expression on his face. “as much as i want to, suguru’s been bugging about you all week. i really do think it’s time for you to meet him,”

“hmph. alright.” 

“i’m tearing that dress off of you the second we get home, though.”

“satoru!”

“what?! not my fault my girl looks so damn hot all the time!”

this night is going amazing.

when satoru walks with you through the front doors, arm wrapped around your waist and the dress you picked out for tonight glimmering, you feel a little shy. the guys all whistle at the two of you, and the girls whisper amongst each other, but you and gojo don’t care. in his eyes, you’re the only girl he sees. the only girl worth being with here. 

“wanna go get drinks?” he asks you, cerulean eyes showing underneath his sunglasses. you nod, walking to the kitchen with him. you’re getting severe deja vu… you can’t believe you met gojo at the last party you were at. and now you’re at another party, with gojo as your date. you scan the crowd for utahime or shoko, wondering what you would say to them if they saw you with the man they specifically told you not to mess with.

it’s alright, though. shoko was wrong about those rumors, and gojo’s proving it to you.

“satoru!” the playful voice greets your boyfriend, and you turn to see geto suguru. you’ve seen him around campus, and he sits somewhere in the back of your chem class. you haven’t really had the opportunity to talk to him, though… and he looks a little intimidating.

“you must be y/n,” he says, offering you a freshly opened smirnoff from the drinks on the countertop. you thank him and grab the drink, taking a swig.

“yup! my lovely girlfriend,” gojo lets go of his arm around your waist to grab a drink. 

“you probably don’t know this, but i’ve been his wingman.” he smiles at gojo, who’s pouting, like he’s preparing himself for what suguru is about to say. “he’s batshit crazy for you, its insane.”

“oh? do tell.”

“when the two of you got together, he left me a voicemail at like… four in the morning? anyway, he was screaming about how he was the happiest guy in the world… or something.”

“that’s because i was!” you’re laughing at how unashamed satoru is about this.

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” geto clicks his tongue, pulling out his phone. “and he’s reposted you on insta to like, every drake song-”

“alright, me and y/n are gonna go dance.” he interrupts suguru, and drags you away from his best friend with a yelp. “nice talkin’ to you, suguru!”

“hey, i wanted to know more!-”

“shh, you don’t need to know about all of that.” the two of you are in the living room, in the midst of all the bodies dancing and grinding against each other. he pulls you close to him, and you feel his hot breath against your neck. “you look so beautiful tonight, y/n.”

“same for you, handsome. let’s dance, shall we?” you wrap your arms around him and just sway to the beat. you’ve never been much of a dancer, but everything feels natural as long as gojo’s with you. 

suddenly, the music changes, and one dance starts playing. you two look at each other, and you both burst out laughing at the same time. “have you reposted me to this song?”

“duh. it’s a classic.”

“can’t disagree with that.” you say, finding yourself grinding against satoru while wizkid’s part plays in the background. it feels like such a perfect night–you’re pulling satoru into a deep kiss, and he shoves his tongue down your throat while he’s leading you to a nearby couch. you’re seated on his lap, mimicking practically every couple in this party tonight. 

suddenly, you pull away, and you whisper, “i need to use the bathroom.” 

satoru smirks at your words, thinking that it’s a hint for something else, and you give him a sour face. “want me to join you-”

you hit his chest playfully. “that’s not code for anything, you perv. i actually need to piss.” 

he’s pouting at your words, but he lets you off his lap anyway, and holds your drink for the time being. “it’s at the second door in the hall to your right. be quick, please.”

“no duh. i’ve got a cute date to come back to,” you say, walking away and traversing all of the bodies that smell like sweat and alcohol. you’re a little unused to this environment, but it’s alright. you fix up your makeup in the bathroom and freshen up a little, walking back to the living room to find satoru again. 

you wish you never did.

you were gone for four minutes. five minutes max. you come back to satoru, and your breath hitches at the sight.

on his lap was a random chick that looked like every other girl at this party. she was practically naked, since her outfit didn’t do much to cover her skin at all.

fuck.

you remember the first time you saw gojo at the last party you went to. the sight wasn’t that different compared to the one now. there were girls all over him, all fighting for his attention. and yet, it seemed that night, his attention was focused solely on you.

what bullshit that was.

your eyes are blurry, and the music is muffled in your ears. white noise fills your senses, and all you want to do right now is run.

so you do.

you run, not caring if gojo saw you at all or not. you run out of the party, eternally grateful that you didn’t pick out heels for tonight and settled for much simpler shoes. you run, despite the fact that you drew geto’s attention. you were already out the door before he could ask what was wrong. you run, just wanting to get away from everyone and everything. you run with no particular destination in mind. you stop running when you almost get run over on a red light, the car honking at you–screaming profanities as it drives by. it breaks you from your trance, and you sit on the curb of the sidewalk, letting all of your tears out on what was supposed to be a perfect night.

of course gojo didn’t think that you were different. you were just like every other girl to him.

stupid. stupid. stupid. you’ve never felt so stupid in your life.

when geto sees you running out the door with unshed tears in your eyes, he immediately panics. what the hell happened?

he goes through every room of the house, trying to find gojo, when he hears a bunch of commotion in the living room. he runs there, pushing past everyone, only to find a total disaster inside.

he sees gojo screaming at a girl dressed like a stripper, who was on the ground with tears in her eyes. satoru looks like he’s about to pop a blood vessel with how pissed he looks. there’s a crowd forming at this point, and geto knows he needs to intervene, so he drags his bestfriend away, who looks so distraught that geto could just wonder what the fuck happened.

they’re outside now, and its significantly a lot more quiet out here compared to all of the chaos inside. all the noise is coming from gojo—who won’t stop crying, and geto has no idea what to do or where to even begin. “fuck!”

“dude, what the fuck happened!?” satoru looks like he’s feeling every emotion at once. he looks pissed, pissed enough to punch a wall, and geto’s a little afraid that gojo might actually do that–or worst-case scenario, punch him. he’s crying, and geto hasn’t seen gojo cry ever since he fell off a swing in pre-k, so what happened must be really fucking serious.

“i don’t KNOW what happened, goddamnit! y/n went to use the bathroom and some slu- some girl came up to me and threw herself on my fucking lap! i was gonna tell her to fuck off but y/n saw before i was able to and now she’s gone and she probably thinks that i’m just some cheater when i’ve worked so hard to get her to trust me and-FUCK!”

he stops, trying to calm down a little, and gojo takes the shakiest breath he thinks he’s ever taken in his life. the red in his vision starts to fade, but he still feels helpless. “i just don’t know what to fucking do, suguru.” 

“i just saw y/n run out of my house a few minutes ago.” he says with a grimace, and he’s trying to figure out what to tell his bestfriend. “i’ve never seen you like this over a girl before. holy shit, you really love her, do you?”

geto thinks that gojo’s bloodshot eyes, the brutal names that he called that girl at the party, and the tears he’s shed for you are already an answer.

“this is your last chance to prove it to her, satoru.” geto fumbles through his pockets and hands him the keys to his challenger. gojo snatches them, hearing the car engine rumbling itself to life. the white-haired man thanks his best friend as he steps into the drivers’ side, with geto reassuring him, ‘ill deal with the chaos inside, you go ahead and explain yourself to your girlfriend’.

gojo swears that he’s never driven so fast in his whole life.

part 2 :)

[aaagustd]

movie night | choi seungcheol (m)

title: movie night pairing: seungcheol x (f)reader genre/rating: established relationship, pwp; 18+ summary: You’re definitely still mad at him, but he’s so hot. wc: 1.6k warnings: mentions horror movies and stuff, reader is trying to “i’m scared” her way into getting some dick, mentions periods/pms, kissing, missionary, makeup sex, big dick!cheol, unprotected sex, they’re so cute lol, i think that’s all note: i wrote this one day bc i was in my feelings lol. i hope you like this little october parting gift. it’s unedited bc i've been super busy so i apologize for my trash lol.

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“That’s not my scarecrow.”

You clutch your blanket close to your body as you sit surrounded by darkness on your living room couch. Your boyfriend, Seungcheol, is seated beside you. Although he’s only inches away it seems like you’re miles apart emotionally. 

There haven’t been too many words exchanged between you over the past few days. You can’t recall the subject of the argument, or the catalyst—but you’re days away from your period and if you’re being honest, deep down, you miss your man.

However, you’re as stubborn as they come. Hoisting your white flag isn’t an option for you. He’s usually the one who resolves these things. You can’t understand why all of a sudden he has to match your energy. He’s doing this on purpose to torture you.

As you stare at the screen, already knowing what is in store for the elderly woman with the shotgun in hand, mischief creeps its way into your mind—conjuring a sinister but genius plan to grant you some of your boyfriend’s attention. You’ve seen this movie more times than you can count, and have added it to your Top 10; but tonight, you’ll pretend it is too much for your poor little heart.

After the gunshots, the TV is dark and quiet, and then suddenly the lady appears. She comes closer and closer to her front porch, her cats screeching and scurrying in fear as they lay eyes on a sight not visible to the pair of stranded siblings and the movie viewers. You hold your breath, waiting for the perfect moment—and then, it happens.

The creature drops the woman’s limp body and reveals himself, leaving everyone shocked by the sudden character death. You pretend to be frightened by the jumpscare, purposefully shifting closer to Seungcheol as you bounce out of your seat with your false fear.

Instead of offering one of his strong arms for comfort, you’re given a cold side-eye, but the failed attention doesn’t falter your determination. You wait for another startling scene, and once again, you stage a dramatic reaction. This time, whether it’s out of annoyance or concern is unknown, he acknowledges you.

“Scared?”

Timidly, you offer a small nod. You secretly hope it is as feeble as you strived for it to be.

“Come here,” he beckons, opening his arms for you to come over and snuggle against his chest. 

You leap at the opportunity faster than you intended, but he either doesn’t notice or just chooses not to say anything. Once you’re next to him, head resting on his chest while your leg is thrown over his lap—he wraps his right arm around you and surrounds you with warmth. You smile, but only until the movie is over.

After about 30 minutes, the credits roll, and the movie is over. You stretch, knowing it’s time to go get some sleep because you have work in the morning. As you stand and start walking to your bedroom, you’re puzzled when you don’t hear the familiar sound of Seungcheol dragging his feet behind you. 

“You’re not coming?” you ask, turning around to see if there’s any sign of him preparing for bed.

Unfortunately, he seems comfortable where he is. It’s not like he has work tomorrow, like you. However, you always move to the bedroom at the same time. You’re taken aback by the random change of plans.

“Later.”

You hope the darkness conceals your disappointment. Tomorrow morning you’ll wake up horny, but you’ll probably die if someone touches you while you’re PMSing. You want to fuck now, so tomorrow your hormones won’t be all over the place, but you won’t ask. Your pride is too high.

“Okay. Well, goodnight.”

“Night, baby,” he replies, not even watching your defeated figure walk away.

Your legs carry you to your room and you fall on the bed face first, burying your head in the comforter to mask your sigh of frustration. You aren’t sure how long you lie there, but you begin to fall asleep. However, the sound of your boyfriend’s voice makes you jolt with surprise.

“Shit! What the fuck!”

His laughter fills the room, but you don’t find anything funny. He nearly scared your soul out of your body. You send a pillow flying towards his head.

“When did you become such a pussy?” he asks, catching the object in mid-air.

“Shut up, you just startled me.”

“Sure, I did. Did the movie startle you too?”

Rolling your eyes, you return your head to the covers, shielding yourself from his teasing. You don’t bother making room for him because you’re still a little pissed. You figure he’ll just leave you alone and sleep on the couch but then his cold fingertips touch the back of your thigh and your mood changes drastically.

They begin to travel across your exposed skin, eventually crawling under your large t-shirt, a “borrowed” item of his. You can only imagine the look on his face when he finds nothing but panties underneath. Sure, he knows how you sleep, but he probably wasn’t expecting you to dress so conveniently tonight.

You exhale a soft moan as his fingers tickle your inner thighs, and he’s quick to notice the way you’ve crumbled in a matter of seconds. 

“I mean… it’s okay to be scared, baby.”

“I’m not scared, asshole,” you mumble into the fabric. “Just go back to the—”

“Want me to ease your mind?” When silence falls over the room, he mistakes it for rejection and withdraws his hand. “I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

Your reaction leaves him smirking, but you don’t care how desperate you appear.

“No, come to bed,” you insist, grabbing his shirt. 

As he slips one of his arms around your waist you pull him closer, making his knees hit the edge of the bed.

“Is that what you want?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

It only takes seconds before your lips connect for a slow and gentle kiss. It’s a silent peace offering, a surrender to all the desires you both have held onto out of stubbornness. Seungcheol naturally gains all the control, using his dominance to take the lead. His confidence earns your submission, and you allow him to gently guide you back on the bed. 

Climbing on top of you, he can’t bear to pull away. He removes his shirt in a swift motion, tossing it across the room while he continues his trail of kisses down your neck. Your body arches off the bed as he removes your panties, aiding him by kicking your legs until they slip off your ankles. Once you are bare, you spread your legs for him and he settles between your thighs.

“Look at you,” he taunts, leaving you squirming beneath him. “Not so bratty now, huh?”

Seungcheol’s hand finally touches your pussy, leaving you gasping for air. Words get trapped in your throat, making you croak out responses to the pleasure you’re feeling between your legs.

“Please.”

Your begging grasps his attention and he pauses briefly to look into your eyes.

“What are you asking for?” 

He continues to slowly massage your clit, causing your crevice to become soaked with your arousal. You hear the lewd sounds it makes as he dips his fingers in and out of your heat. It’s almost shameful, but there’s no room for modesty in your bedroom.

“This,” you say clearly while your palm presses firmly against his crotch. His dick feels hard and solid; even through his thick sweatpants. You’re pleased to know you aren’t the only one eager for some relief. 

Seungcheol hisses in agony as your hand lazily strokes his sensitive length. His sculpted forearms tremble as he struggles to hold up his weight while watching the scene unfold. 

“I need it.”

In an instant, your wish is granted. He springs into action by standing up and pulling down his pants and underwear in one motion. You prop yourself on your elbows so you can watch the way his dick stands at attention, begging to fill your soddened center.

Seconds later, he returns, climbing on top of you and lowering his head. As you chase each other’s lips, you feel him near your opening. Your hips rise off the bed, trying to meet his tip so he can sink into your warmth. 

You gasp when he slips inside, relieved that the teasing is now over. Wrapping your limbs around his body, you pull him closer, wanting to feel his lips on you once more.

Your moans pour into each other’s mouths as your boyfriend begins fucking you with deep thrusts. You hold onto him tightly while he whispers the filthiest things in the sweetest ways you’ll ever hear.

He brings you closer and closer to your peak with every snap of his hips. The tension building in your core starts to become unbearable. Seungcheol can feel the way you’re clenching around him and delivers his final thrusts with precision.

As your cries of pleasure fill the dark bedroom, you can hear the neighbors banging on the wall. Both of you laugh, knowing a nasty note will be left on your door in the morning.

“Can you do me a favor?” he asks.

You nod, of course. “Anything.”

Feeling invincible in your post-orgasmic high, you’re ready to take on the world.

“The next time you wanna act scared, pick a movie you haven’t watched a thousand times.”

Instead of throwing another pillow at him, you smack him with it instead. He falls over dramatically, but his giggles can’t be controlled. You can only roll your eyes and take his advice. 

Damn. He knows you too well.

---

If anyone can guess which movie they were watching without using Google, I will hug you lol.

[koolades-world]

Demons and Humans not understanding each other

Inspired by several other posts I read about this same thing <3 honestly even if the brothers insisted it was safe, I would consult Satan, Lucifer or Barbatos

this is mostly mammon freaking out

Humans think the deadliest things are like, adorable, like Cerberus. Mammon especially does not understand why Mc wants to run towards the very dangerous, very mad three headed dog. A few times he has had to throw Mc over his shoulder to keep them from staying behind

“MC CERBERUS BEING THE BEST BOY DOES NOT JUSTIFY HIS ACTIONS HE WANTS TO KILL US”

“But he’s so cute! He just needs a snuggle buddy”

Humans can also be very stubborn if they’re too hot or cold but refuse to admit it. It’s fine with Lucifer does it because he’s one of the most powerful and therefore resilient demons in Hell, but not so much when Mc does it. Beel and Mammon love playing in the Devildom snow, but given that it’s the Devildom, it’s definitely a lot colder than it is in the human realm. Even after ten layers, Mc is still freezing but refuses to admit it.

“Mc, are ya shivering? I thought ya would be too warm under all that”

“I’m sweating with this one jacket”

“I’ll live! Let’s go back to the snowman”

“no I don’t think you will”

On the same note, sometimes demons forget humans can’t withstand crazy temperatures. Asmo will invite Mc to a popular bathhouse, sauna or hot springs, forgetting that the temperature would literally boil Mc alive

“Hey Asmo this is the place you wanted to go, right?”

“Yes! Isn’t is cute?”

“Everything except the part where I boil alive”

“what!”

Some foods can kill humans just by being near them so imagine how the brother would feel when they learned this, it’s giving that lunatic pudding incident with Diavolo from that one card

“Mc! You’ll love this. Open wide!”

“Asmo I feel funny”

“DO NOT FEED MC THE TAKEOUT LUCIFER SAID ITS DEADLY FOR HUMANS IN LARGE AMOUNTS”

“FUCK NOT AGAIN”

In retrospect, humans probably sleep a lot compared to demons. Some demons probably don’t sleep at all, except Sloth demons. Setting aside about eight to nine hours of the day just to sit idly might not make sense to them until they learn they will shut down without it

“How are you feeling about the exam we just took? Exam week is finally over.”

“Mc? Mc, Satan is talking to you. Why are you on the floor”

“MY HUMAN IS DEAD”

“No, I think they’re just asleep idiot”

“oh. wait, THEYRE ASLEEP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HALL lucifer is gonna kill me”

I’d say both demons and humans are social creatures, but humans will go insane without social interaction. Yeah a demon would probably be upset if they didn’t talk to someone for thousands of years but I don’t think a human could last more than ten without losing grip on reality. Humans tend to copy each other, which is probably bizarre to demons. Humans don’t even understand yawning so demons definitely won’t

Going back to the food thing, demons can probably go ages without eating, besides Gluttony demons. Humans need to eat so frequently compared to them

“So you’re tellin’ me that if Mc doesn’t eat for a whole week, their insides start to eat themselves?!”

“Yes. But, Mc ate a few hours ago.”

(Mammon was already gone when Satan turned back around)

Demons probably also play game that would definitely kill humans. My brother and I used to play crazy games when we were little (our favorite game didn’t have a name but we would put Barbies in the toy train tracks and see what would happen when different Thomas and friends character would hit her. The train tracks would glow in the dark! I did not let him put my favorite doll in the train track and he had to listen since I was the older one, she was not a barbie and had bendy feet? that’s not for now) but we never seriously got at each other throats. I cannot imagine what games demons and demon children must play. Satan was born fully grown but imagine if he was born little and the brothers had to play his favorite games with him. I feel like they would find the Barbie game I played a little weird too. Like, they would probably tell me that I should’ve done it in real life since that would be better experience or something batshit like that

“Aww, Satan, do you remember all the times we played “Five minute eye stab” with Lucifer? You were so cute. Sometimes I think Luci let you win.”

“Do not talk to me Asmodeus.”

“I’m sorry, you played what?”

“One time we gave him an actual knife by accident and since he was good, he ended up stabbing Lucifer’s eye.”

“You’ll be next if you don’t shut up and let me read”

“HE WHAT”

“Oh he’s fine now, clearly. Only took him a few hundred years to regain normal eye functions”

“Can we not talk about this anymore?”

Babe it is a miracle Mc is still alive

[suzukiblu]

"Lex Luthor's latest character flaw" poll winner, "deciding he wants grandbabies and giving Robin a cloning lab about it". Behold, a new WIP strikes!!

“What,” Tim says, staring blankly at the brightly-lit and airy sunroom full of very obvious cloning technology in the very expensive penthouse that Lex Luthor’s bodyguards just dragged a handcuffed Red Robin and Spoiler into after kidnapping them straight off patrol in the Diamond District in the middle of an active crisis situation with the League of Assassins and disabling all their tech and every single one of their trackers six and a half hours ago, down to the bastardized Kryptonian-tech ones in their back molars and two more in both of their suits that Tim didn’t even know existed, plus the one he put in Steph’s collar that she didn’t know existed. Babs is probably just about feral by now. Bruce is definitely feral by now. 

And Lex Luthor is drinking what appears to be a neon purple protein shake out of a rocks glass while sitting at a neatly-arranged desk in the center of the sunroom lab, looking idly bored and scrolling through whatever’s on his phone with his free hand. 

Alright then, Tim thinks carefully. 

“There you are, I was starting to wonder if I’d gotten al Ghul riled up for nothing,” Luthor says, barely glancing up from his tablet. 

“. . . which al Ghul,” Tim asks with wary dread. 

“All of them,” Luthor says, setting down his tablet to give him a pleasant smile. 

Well, now Tim knows why nobody’s dropped in a skylight to rescue them yet. And also why half of Gotham is currently on fire. 

“Uh,” Steph says, glancing around the sunroom lab. “So like, lead-lined glass in here, then, or . . . ?” 

“We’re in Connecticut, so no,” Luthor replies dismissively. “Anyway, the Boy Scout always gets suspicious of too much lead in one place. Which I personally find darling, since anyone in Metropolis without at least a lead-lined and soundproofed bedroom is essentially asking for Kryptonian voyeurs, whether intentionally or not on said Kryptonians’ parts. Also, privacy laws exist for a reason. As do patents, copyrights, attorney-client privilege, HIPAA . . .” 

“Connecticut?” Steph repeats incredulously. “What the frick is in Connecticut?” 

“Currently, us,” Luthor replies matter-of-factly. “Hope, Mercy, do me a favor and go check the security systems manually, just in case any invasive species of vermin have gotten into them. Also, yes, there is kryptonite, and no, there is actually much more than you’re theorizing.” 

“You have literally no idea how much kryptonite we’re theorizing,” Steph says as the bodyguards both leave with an affirming nod. Luthor gives her a pitying look, then turns his chair a few degrees towards Tim. Tim immediately expects the inevitable threat or ultimatum, and braces himself for–

“I’d apologize for all the fuss, but I don’t actually care about inconveniencing you and don’t see the point in pretending I ever would,” Luthor informs him. Tim stares blankly at him again. What is even happening right now? “Now then, what are your intentions in regards to ‘Supernova’, as I hear someone’s started calling himself now. ‘Themself’? I’m not sure if ‘Supernova’ is meant to be gender-affirming or more a ‘too old to stick with ‘Superboy’ but there are already three ‘Supermen’ active and the whole, you know, general stubborn individualism they’re so fond of. Or ‘he’s’ so fond of. Whichever."

Tim stares at him. 

“Is this supposed to be a trap for Supernova or a shovel talk for me?” he asks, because a) he’s not telling Lex Luthor anything about Kon’s gender or personal choices that Kon hasn’t publicly stated, and b) only Lex Luthor would actually kidnap two active vigilantes in the middle of a crisis he’d apparently pre-arranged to give a–well, no, Bruce would also do that, definitely. But this is not a Batman talk, either way. 

Batman’s “talks” all involve tests, for one thing, so actually so far this is an improvement. 

“It’s an engagement present,” Luthor says pleasantly. 

Tim’s brain crashes, then does the slowest reboot of his life. He’s recovered from concussions faster, he’s pretty sure. 

“They’re . . . not engaged, though?” Steph says skeptically. “Or, like, even dating?” 

“Red Robin’s commitment issues are his own problem, not mine. I’ve got a schedule to keep,” Luthor replies dismissively.

[wandascosmic]

why can't you see? (8)

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

part eight of 'you belong with me' series

summary: basically a wanda series inspired by jim and pam from the office

word count: 3418

tags: best friends to lovers, actual idiots to lovers, they're so cute my little babies, 3/4 of this is just reader being a little shit but she's so real like she's me when im doing work, wanda's so here for it though they're so on the same wavelength it's adorable

taglist: @reginassweetheart @rroyale-109 @marvel-posts

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

Tony suddenly feels the sensation of his jacket being pulled over his head. “Oh!” he grunts, as his eyesight his overshadowed by darkness. 

“What has two thumbs and likes to bone your mom?” Hayward asks in a gross joking tone, pulling the jacket back down. 

Tony turns around slowly, his eyes widening in surprise and happiness once he sees who’s surprised him. “Tyler!” Tony says excitedly before hugging the man. 

“What’s up Tony, how’s it going?” Hayward says cockily. Hayward smirks as he turns to you at your desk. “What’s up, L/N, still queer?” he asks. 

You give him a tight-lipped smile before going back to work, and Wanda watches you with an amused grin. Your absolute lack of ability to hide when you’re annoyed always made her laugh. 

“Man, we have loads of catching up to do,” Tony tells Hayward as he starts to lead him towards his office while the two begin to engage in chatter. 

You roll your eyes aggressively. 

God, you hated Tyler Hayward with a burning passion. 

Standing up from your desk, you grab your jacket ready to head out for lunch. But of course, you need to stop by your favourite receptionist’s desk for the fifth time today. Or maybe sixth. 

“What has two thumbs and hates Tyler Hayward?” you ask her as you walk over. 

 Wanda smiles knowingly. “Me,” you mouth to her, pointing your index finger at yourself.  

“Well,” Wanda says. “I’m always here if you need saving.” 

“Please,” you respond, giving her a knowing look. “Hey, do you want anything from the sandwich shop down the street?” 

“Oh! Yeah, could you get me that ham and cheese one you got me last time?” 

You smile. “Sure,” you say, before heading out the door. 

***

“I’m really excited to meet your mom,” you tell Wanda as you take a bite of your turkey sub. 

“You are?” Wanda asks, unwrapping the sandwich you got her. 

“Mhm,” you nod. “I’ve got many questions to ask her.” 

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Wanda asks curiously with a tilt of her head. 

You grin before assuming a quizzical expression. “Like this.” You shift in your seat slightly to get more into character. “As a child, did Wanda show any traits that would hint towards her future career as a receptionist?” 

Wanda laughs. “I’m not sure she’ll know how to answer that question.”  

***

The door opens quietly, and you smile as you see Iryna Maximoff start to slowly make her way towards her daughter. Wanda doesn’t notice, continuing to type on her computer. 

Suddenly, Wanda feels a tap on her shoulder. 

And turning her head, Wanda’s eyes light up once she sees who’s in front of her. Wanda’s told you how much she loves her mother, many, many times. 

Iryna smiles at her daughter. “Hi,” she says, before Wanda jumps out of her chair to hug her tight. 

“Mama!” Wanda exclaims, squeezing tighter. 

You smile at the heartwarming exchange. 

Deciding to go introduce yourself, you stand up from your chair, ready to go meet the woman who brought the most wonderful human being you’v ever known into this world. 

You faintly hear Wanda begin to tell her mother all the things she’s missed the past few weeks, but your nerves have caught up to you slightly and you desperately want to make a good impression. You brush the dust off your pants slightly, and start to walk over.  

Should you say hi? 

How are you?

Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N? 

Hi Ms. Maximoff, I’ve been in love with your daughter ever since she started working here so could you please like me? 

Nope. Definitely not. 

You groan, deciding to just get it over with. 

Taking a deep breath, you stand at Wanda’s desk with a smile, drumming your fingers on the wood as you prepare for the two Maximoffs to turn around.  

But of course, the universe had other plans. 

You turn your head to the sound of the door creaking open, and your heart drops as you see Vision enter. With fucking flowers. And gel in his hair. And the most obnoxious country club outfit you’ve ever seen. It made your work clothes seem like a potato sack in comparison, and you realize that you can’t meet Wanda’s mother looking like this compared to her fiance. Plus, Vision already hated you and had his suspicions. 

Regaining your composure, you eliminate any suspicion he may have had of you standing at Wanda’s desk by taking a candy from the communal dish at the front and immediately turn around to walk back to your own stupid desk. 

Sitting back down, you frown slightly, but ultimately decide that you should probably get back to the papers that were giving you a headache of boredom. 

All you wanted was to say hi. 

After a couple seconds, you overhear Iryna greet Vision. 

“Oh, there he is,” she says happily. Hey handsome, how are you?” You turn to see her greet him with a hug. 

“I’m pretty good. How are you?” Vision responds, very obviously sucking up as you’ve seen his true personality on a daily basis. “You look great, Iryna.” 

“Thank you very much,” Iryna responds with a smile. “So, are we ready for dinner?” 

“Oh,” You hear Wanda express, a bit forlorn. “Well, you know, actually I kind of need to stall a bit, since Tony’s gonna have a small meeting at the end of the day,” she says guiltily. “But, it’s okay since I’m very used to killing time.” Wanda chuckles a bit. 

“Oh, no worries,” Iryna tells her. “We’ll just wait a bit.” 

“For sure,” Vision agrees. “I’ll go wait in the parking lot.” Turning to Iryna, he asks, “and, uh, what kind of tunes do you want for the ride? Country? Oldies?”

“Oh, anything is fine,” Iryna replies kindly. 

“All right, well, see you soon!” Vision says before leaving the office. 

And the second the door closes, you finally hear something that makes you smile.

“So which one is Y/N?” Iryna asks her daughter cheekily. 

“Mama!” Wanda replies with a blush. 

***

It’s the next day, and you’ve never been as bored as you feel now. 

Actually, you’ve been on a boredom streak lately. 

But today is the absolute worst of all. 

After Vision had left, you had finally gotten the opportunity to properly greet Iryna before she left to join Vision in the parking lot, and Wanda had really seemed to enjoy the entire exchange. 

But now, it’s the next day, and you want to absolutely murder the papers in front of you. Depsite your hatred for Tyler Hayward, him showing up yesterday made your day somewhat different from the rest. 

Groaning loudly, you plop your forehead onto your desk and dread the day before you. 

Wanda, of course, is entertained by your shenanigans and snickers as she watches you. 

It was official.

You had died of boredom. 

(An occurence that happens once every sixth months. Seven if Tony’s being extra insane.) 

And your guys’ deal was that it was Wanda’s job to revive you. 

***

“You see Sam’s coffee mug?” Wanda asks as you stand in front of her at her desk.

“Mhm,” you say, turning to look at the mug along with her. 

Wanda leans slightly closer. “Sometimes when he’s not here, I try to throw stuff in it,” she whispers to you. 

“No way,” you laugh. 

Wanda nods at you with a sly grin, handing you a yellow piece of paper for you to crumple up into a ball. 

“We should play paper basketball one day with his mug,” you tell her as you crumple the paper absentmindedly. 

“No way,” Wanda shakes her head. “I’ve seen you play basketball.” 

“What if I get you chicken paprikash and your favorite candies?” 

“Deal.” Wanda says instantly. “Now throw, I can’t wait for Sam to drink it accidentally.” 

‘Wow, I can’t believe I’ve never seen this side of you Maximoff. You might be a bigger prankster than I am.” 

“You’re teasing me. I can tell,” Wanda narrows her eyes at you. “Throw the paper!” 

You laugh before throwing it as instructed. “Damn it,” you say when it misses. 

“I’m the only one who can keep up with your pranks, L/N. Plus, it’s fun doing them with you,” Wanda answers as she rummages through her drawers for something else for you to throw, unknowing of the fact that she just made your heart skip a beat. “Here, try paper clips.” 

You take a silver clip from the small box Wanda has just placed on the ledge of her desk, about to throw, before her voice stops you. 

“Oh wait,” she reaches to her side and grabs another paper, reading it over slightly. “This message, for Sam.” 

“Smart, Maximoff,” you say, causing Wanda to smile at you. 

Crumpling the paper, you throw it as best you can, but end up missing once more as it lands in Sam’s chair instead. 

“You know, I might actually beat you whenever we play that coffee mug basketball game.” 

***

“Hey, Steve,” you say, walking up to the man with a few sheets of paper in your hand. “Um, these new expense reports, do we really have to go back to last quarter?” 

“Yeah, It’s a terrible system, I know,” Steve sympathises with you. 

Suddenly, a board buried underneath the contents of Steve’s desk catches your eye. “Hey, what does 2005 season mean?” you ask. 

“Uh, that’s–” 

“No way,” you say as you pull the board out entirely. “Is this a scoreboard?” You ask, noticing the assortment of numbers written into various white boxes. 

“Yes, it is,” Steve acknowledges. 

“That’s so cool,” you say. “What’s it for?” 

Steve sighs. “Sometimes, when Tony’s out, Bucky and I play this paper football game he got me started on.”

“Or when we’re bored,” Bucky adds from his desk next to Steve. 

Inspecting the board a bit further, you see the hundreds of scores written on it. “Wait, this goes back two years! Oh my god,” you exclaim excitedly. 

“We’re bored a lot,” Bucky says, already folding a piece of paper into a small triangle. 

Steve turns to you. “Wanna try?” 

You nod with a grin. 

*** “Oh!” you exclaim as you flick the paper triangle to Bucky’s desk, making another shot. “Yes!” You high-five Steve who stands next to you. 

“Fun, right?” he says. 

“For sure, I really love the uh, paper triangle flicking and hitting things game.” You imitate the motion with your fingers.” It’s awesome.” 

“We call it Hateball,” Bucky tells you with a whisper. 

“Why?” you ask curiously. 

“Because of how much Nat hates it,” Steve says, nodding over to Nat who’s deep in her work on her computer. 

You look over at Nat, and you notice the hint of a smile on her face. 

“I don’t hate it,” she mouthes at you through the screen separating the desks once Bucky and Steve look away. 

You smile before turning back to Bucky and Steve. “Hey, do you guys have any other games?” 

Bucky inches forward towards you slightly. “Ask Bruce to teach you Shield ball, trust me.” 

***

“So, that’s what this sound is all day,” you exclaim with a smile as the ball hits the ceiling before passing between you and Bruce. 

“Fun, isn’t it?” Bruce replies back. 

“It’s awesome!” 

*** After exhausting the two new games you had discovered today as much as possible, you decided it was best to let your co-workers get back to work. 

Unfortunately, you had only blown off your work for about two hours, and needed to find a way to blow off the other five hours of the day. 

So, you created your own games. 

Something you liked to call ‘the Office Olympics.’ and you were surprisingly proud of what you could come up with. 

Wanda, like the incredible, wonderful, and kind person she was, had agreed to help you in creating your new project, and had ended up making beautiful medals out of paperclips and old yogurt lids. They looked surprisingly professional, which I guess shuoldn’t surprise you since it was Wanda.

You, and the majority of the office staff stand in the kitchen, with Wanda putting up a poster that says, ‘Games of the 1st Shield Industry Olympiad.’ 

Humming the Olympic Anthem, you hold a candle in your hand which you had found stashed away in your desk, a lighter in the other. “This scented candle,” you start with a smile. “Which I found at the bottom of my desk drawer,” you turn on the lighter and light the candle. “Represents the eternal….” you shake your head. “Burning of competition, or something.” 

“It smells like cookies,” Bruce says. 

“Yes, it does,” you look at him seriously. “Yes, it does, my friend.” 

“Okay, so, we’ll be competing for gold, silver, and bronze yogurt lids,” you say, holding up the medals by their paper clip chain. “Made specially by Wanda.” 

Wanda grins at you. 

“Let the games begin!” You lead the office staff out the kitchen with your candle above your head, all of you humming the Olympic anthem together. 

***

“Alright, so, here, what you have is the national sport of Icelandic paper companies,” you explain as you point to the paper boxes that have yellow rubber bands holding the lid and the vessel together at the top and bottom of their horizontal sides. “And, I’m blanking on the name, could you help me out, Wanda?” you turn to the brunette who stands next to you. 

“Y/N, they refer to it, as,” Wanda pauses. “Flonkerton.” 

You hum. 

“In English, ‘Box of Paper Snowshoe Racing’.” 

“Fair enough,” you say. “But, I like Flonkerton.” 

Wanda smiles. 

“So,” you continue. “Who will be challenging Bruce in Flonkerton?” 

“I’ll do it,” Jennifer says. 

“Yes, Jennifer! Cousins taking on cousins,” you exclaim. 

Both Jennifer and Bruce walk over to the boxes, Wanda helping Bruce with his footing while you help Jennifer. 

“So, if you could put your foot right through here,” you lift up the yellow band for her to slip her foot through. “Right through the flonk.” 

Once both Bruce and Jennifer were ready, the rest of the staff helped you put up the finish line at the end of the room, which was made of transparent tape. 

“Alright, are you guys ready?” you ask, receiving a nod from both parties. 

“Ready, set, go!” 

And the office erupts in cheers as Bruce and Jennifer try to make it to the other side of the room with the boxes on their feet. 

“Whoo! Go, go, go!” you exclaim, clapping your hands together. 

“Dig deep!” Steve yells. “Dig deep!” 

Soon, the two near the finish line, and you prepare to catch one of them in case they fall. 

“Oh, they’re neck and neck!” Bucky exclaims. 

“Come on!” Nat says. 

“Oh!” the staff exclaims all at once, as the two finally reach the finish line, Jennifer winning by the slightest edge. 

“Jennifer by a nose!” you announce. “Gold medal, in Flurnenton.” 

“Flonkerton,” Wanda corrects. 

“Thank you, delegate from Iceland,” you say teasingly. 

***

“Nat, are you sure you don’t want to join in on any games?” Wanda asks Nat as she stands next to her by the water dispenser. 

“I’m good with watching, thanks,” Nat chuckles, taking the last sip of her water. 

“Come on, don’t you have any games you enjoy?” 

“Well, there is one,” Nat says, throwing her cup out. 

“No way, what is it?” Wanda asks excitedly. 

“I call it Wanda-pong.” 

Wanda stares confused. “What?” she asks with a small laugh.

“Mhm,” Nat nods. “I count how many times Y/N gets up from her desk and goes to reception to talk to you.” 

Wanda pulls her head back in slight shock. “We’re friends.” 

“If you say so,” Nat says with a wink before heading off. 

***

“Peter! Gold medal,” you announce as the intern had correctly guessed who would be next to come up in the elevator. “Let’s move to our next destination, everyone.” 

“Oh, Y/N!” Wanda runs up to you and joins you at your side with a large box in her arms. 

“What’s up, Maximoff?” you ask with a laugh. 

“I made something for our closing ceremonies,” she says with a huge grin. 

“What?” you say with a smile, and Wanda opens up the box to show you. “Oh, my god,” you exclaim. “This is incredible!” 

Wanda smiles as she looks up at you. 

“When’d you have time to make it?” 

“Automatic voicemail,” Wanda responds cheekily.   

“”All right, Maximoff, all right,” you say, lifting up your hand and giving her a well-deserved high five. 

***

It was the absolute worst time for Tony to walk in with Sam. 

You were in the middle of the coffee race, seeing who could get a full mug of coffee from the coffee machine to Steve’s desk in the least amount of time. 

However, the two walked in halfway through the race, catching you all in your tracks. 

Now, you were back at your desk, filling out the stupid expense reports that had caused your death of boredom earlier this morning. But, in five minutes time you had gotten them done, and you had also closed two sales before the day was over. 

Truthfully, it was about as productive as any other day. If not, more so. 

“All done,” you tell Steve as you hand him the reports. 

“Great,” Steve responds before you walk off. 

You contemplate sitting down at your desk, and doing whatever you could find to do to entertain yourself, however, staring at the medal hung over your desk lamp, you think you have a better idea. 

“Hey,” you say to Wanda as you greet her at her desk. 

“I have 59 voicemails,” she responds with the phone to her shoulder. 

“Great,” you respond. “Actually, can you ignore those and do something for me instead?” 

Wanda stares at you for a moment before her face breaks out into a grin. “Sure.” She places the phone back into its holder. 

“Pefect,” you respond back. “So, today, 5 o’clock, closing ceremonies,” you tell her with a small smile. 

“Wait, really?” You nod. “Notify the athletes.” 

“Will do,” Wanda says as she gets up from her seat. 

***

Knocking on Tony’s door, you slowly enter his office, seeing him hunched over. 

“Tony?” 

“Y/N! Y/N, what’s going on?” he responds.

“Nothing, I just wanted to congratulate you on your condo.” 

Tony furrows his brows. “How did you find out about that?” 

Of course, the answer was Sam. And he had notified you all to be wary of Tony since the purchase was less than savory. 

“Sam,” you nod your head in the direction of his desk. 

“Of course,” Tony mutters. “But, thanks anyways.” 

“No problem. Hey, would you mind coming out here for a sec? I’ve got something for you.” 

“Really?” Tony asks, standing up from his chair. 

Slowly leading him out, you smile at the arranged closing ceremony Wanda had put together, a wonderful stage of first, second, and third place, along with a few surprises she had only told you about.  

“What’s this?” Tony asks. 

“These are the closing ceremonies,” you tell him. “Step up.” You lead him to the top stage, and pull out one of Wanda’s medals from your pocket. “Congratulations to Tony, because he closed on his condo. So, gold medal.” You place the item around his neck. 

“I’m not sure what to say,” Tony says. “But, thank you all, for this, I’m very grateful.” 

You smile. 

“And for, Sam Wilson,” you continue as Bruce leads Sam to the second highest stage. “The silver medal.” You place the award around his neck.

“And finally, for Jennifer Walters, the bronze medal.” You lead Jennifer to the final stage, as she had won most of the games of the Office Olympics. 

You nod at Wanda, and she pushes the play button on the speaker, the Star-Spangled banner beginning to play. 

All of you placing your hands on your heart, you begin to grin. 

“Why are you playing the National Anthem?” Tony whispers to you. 

“Um, because your condo’s in America.” you respond. 

“Fair enough,” Tony says. 

“Ready?” Wanda asks you, and you nod. 

Wanda starts to pull the string linked to the pieces of paper she had folded earlier, giving you a grin. 

“What is that?” Tony asks. 

“Those are the doves,” you answer. 

Wanda glances at you with a small smile, and you give her one in return. 

She did, in fact revive you from your boredom.

[in-my-feels-probably]

Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

I Feel So High School (Every Time I Look At You)

Request: Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

and: art being 10ish years older than reader? that’s all i got. go crazy

Hi! Challengers has been on my mind literally since the day it came out, and I think I've read every single fic on here about it, so I figured I’d give it a shot writing one myself. First of all, I combined your requests, hope that’s ok. Second, this is my first time writing for Art, so please bear with me while I try and get the hang of writing his character. I haven’t written a fic in weeks, so my skills are definitely a little rusty. Please be kind! Anyways, I hope you like this. Let me know what you think, and thank you for the request :)

(Warnings: none? idk, maybe very vague mentions of sex, art is divorced, swearing, i guess the age gap taboo. let me know if i missed anything)

—

You should have known trying to explain your situation with Art to someone else would’ve been difficult, but finally telling your roommate everything was just as humiliating as you thought it would be. She always had a knack for nosing her way into your business, and not even you were immune to her federal level detective skills when it came to getting information out of someone. 

“And I’m seeing him today,” you finished your rant as you sucked in a breath, wincing as you waited for the bomb to drop.

But it didn’t. Your roommate just grinned, standing up and walking over to your closet. You watched with a confused look on your face until she turned to you, already elbow deep in your clothes.

“So…you have a sugar daddy?” your roommate asked, trying to stifle a laugh as she rifled through your closet to help you find an outfit. “No judgment, I’m honestly jealous.”

You picked a pillow up off your bed, launching it at her when she smirked as you flushed. “I don’t have a sugar daddy! I have a…well—ok, I don’t know what we are. But he’s not my sugar daddy.”

“No, he’s just an ex pro tennis player with a famous ex wife who was also a pro tennis player that he had a perfect little girl with, complete with a house in the Hamptons. Now, he’s…what, exactly? A coach? A commentator? Part of Stanford’s glorified alumni? No, I’ve got it! I know what he is — hot. In a beekeeping age, recently divorced, kind of way.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up to help her look through your closet. “He’s only in his thirties. You’re making him sound archaic and washed up.”

“Look at you, gushing over him,” she grinned as she finally landed on something for you to wear, quickly handing it to you. “At least he has good taste. You’re hot, too.”

Your roommate turned around while you quickly changed, sitting down at the foot of your bed. She talked over her shoulder as you got dressed, her voice full of curiosity.

“So, how did this all happen anyway?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Remember alumni week with all the guest lectures and presentations a few months ago?”

“You met Art Donaldson during alumni week? What the fuck! Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have skipped all my classes that week if I thought I was gonna pick up a trophy husband instead of being forced to sit through a mind-numbingly boring presentation from some guy who used to go here that I’ve never heard of.”

“Sucks to suck, babe,” you grinned, finished getting dressed. “I’m good, you can turn around now.”

She quickly turned around, patting the spot on the bed next to her.

“How did this even happen? I’ve never seen you step foot on a tennis court in your life, and I know they wouldn’t have asked him to speak in a graduate lecture.”

You sat down next to her, nodding. “He did a seminar down at the courts for the kinesiology majors or something like that. They were learning about sports related injuries and how to treat them. He told them about how he hurt his shoulder a few years ago during a match, and he talked about all the physical therapy he had to do.”

“You’re telling me you sat through a kinesiology lecture? On a tennis court? When you don’t even study kinesiology?”

“Absolutely not,” you laughed, leaning back against the headboard. “He told me about it that first week while he was here.”

Your roommate giggled, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. “Oh my god! Okay, okay. Spill. Now. I want to know everything.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, but started ranting again anyway. 

—

In truth, you didn’t really know what your relationship with Art was. You’d met when returning alumni who’d gone on to excel in their fields came to campus for guest lectures and demonstrations.

In a total mortifying cliche, you ran into Art in a hallway while you were rushing to a lecture that had already started ten minutes earlier. You would have been on time, but your roommate accidentally locked herself out of your dorm, and the RA wasn’t answering their phone. She had an exam she needed to get to, which—in her own words—“trumps your boring book lecture.” You had no choice but to turn around and save her, making the trek back across campus to let her in. That’s how you ended up running face first into Art, your bag and all your things scattering across the floor. By some miracle, at least the halls were empty.

You quickly kneeled, scrambling to pick up all your things. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m late for class.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, kneeling to help you.

It was then when you looked up, and you felt your heart jump into your throat. Art Donaldson—famous alumni and world renowned tennis player—was crouched right in front of you, handing you half empty tubes of chapstick, a pair of headphones, and a stray pack of gum. Oh god, you thought to yourself. Why me? Why today? You quickly cleared your throat, standing up.

“God, sorry. Thanks…Mr. Donaldson.”

You cringed as you said it, the title of Mr. feeling off as it rolled off your tongue.

“Mr. Donaldson?” he raised a brow, shaking his head. “No, just call me Art. Uh, you know who I am? Am I actually still recognizable here? I figured no one off of the courts would have any idea who I was.”

You glanced down at his shirt, pointing. “You’re wearing a name tag.”

Art paled, raising a hand to awkwardly scratch at the back of his neck. Good one, he thought to himself. Very humble. He cringed to himself as his cheeks flushed, a small smile on his face.

“Right. I knew that.”

You smiled, pulling your bag back over your shoulder as you let out a little chuckle. “I know who you are. Stanford never lets us forget about their prized students.”

“Ah,” he nodded, grinning. “In my day, it was Reese Witherspoon and Jennifer Connelly. Although, Reese dropped out halfway through her degree, so they don’t talk about her much—”

“And Jennifer left Yale to come study here,” you finished. “That’s one they do still brag about.”

Art smiled, leaning back against the wall as he looked at you. You suddenly became very aware of your situation, tearing your eyes away from him to look down the hall where your class was. Art’s eyes followed, and he straightened up, clearing his throat.

“Am I keeping you?”

“No!” you said all too quickly, biting your tongue for a second before you forced yourself to calm down and continue. “Uh, my class already started. It’s not really important, he doesn’t count attendance anyway. And, to be honest, he’s pretty dull. He managed to make Jane Austen boring.”

“Not Bazin’s class, is it?” Art asked, making you raise a brow.

“Yeah, it is. How’d you know that?”

Art smiled, letting out a little laugh. “That’s why I came this way, I wanted to see if Professor Bazin still taught English here. He was a dinosaur even when I graduated. I’m surprised they still let him teach.”

“If they actually read the end of term course evaluations they make us fill out, they wouldn’t,” you mused, making Art grin wider.

“I guess I should let you go then,” Art shrugged, glancing down the hall. “Wouldn’t want you to miss out on something you could use in your scathing evaluation.”

You glanced back down the hallway at your classroom, but you couldn’t get your feet to move. You weren’t sure why, but you didn’t want to go just yet. 

All you did at Stanford was go to and from class and stay on top of your studies. It was monotonous and boring, and you were always up to your neck in papers and projects. Other than your roommate, you hardly had any people left you talked to or hung out with. They all graduated with their undergrad degrees, and you moved on to your graduate studies. Your education was important to you, but it got lonely. You almost never took risks anymore. But as you glanced back at him, that’s what you did.

You took the risk.

“Or…you could save me from my misery?” you stuttered out, an awkward smile on your face.

Art looked at you with an amused expression, tilting his head as he waited for you to continue. You swallowed, fiddling with the strap of your bag.

“My classes are almost all entirely in this building. I’m sure you’re sick of talking about tennis, but between here and my dorm, I don’t think I see enough sunlight in a day to keep me going. Maybe you could walk with me somewhere that actually sees the sun? Doesn’t have to be the courts or anything, although I can say with full confidence that I’ve never actually seen that part of campus and I’m in my graduate studies. Uh, maybe you’ve got somewhere in mind? Or you could let me buy you a cup of shitty cafeteria coffee? I promise I’ll refrain from asking you about your career. But, as I’m sure you can tell just by looking at me, I don’t really know enough about tennis to ask anyway.”

As you rambled on, horrified by your own rambling but determined to put yourself out there, Art smiled. 

He’d met a lot of girls over the years. Some girls who had a genuine interest in him but didn’t last, and some who saw his fame and fortune as a one way ticket to an easy life. 

None of them mattered. 

He had married Tashi, head over heels from the first moment he saw her. He had a kid with her, a career with her, a seemingly picture perfect life with her. It didn’t even occur to him to look at other girls until his marriage started to strain under the weight of his career, and he’d almost forgotten what it was like to look at a girl for the first time and feel that sickening but addictive feeling of butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. After the divorce, it felt so foreign to him that he didn’t even try. He had resigned himself to being a single father who co-parents and lives the rest of his life comfortably and quietly.

But here you were, rambling on with flushed cheeks and bright eyes trying your hardest to ask him out, and he couldn’t be more captivated.

There was just something about you. You were pretty, obviously. Anyone with eyes would’ve been able to see that. But there was something else, too. You were still young and not entirely pessimistic yet, with your whole career ahead of you. Probably no more than a few heartbreaks under your belt, able to muster up some sort of courage to fight for what you wanted. He used to have that, and he missed it — admired it, even. As you finally cut yourself off and looked up at him with mortification written across your face, Art saved you from further embarrassment with a smile. 

“Um…coffee sounds good,” he said with a shy smile. “Not from the cafeteria, though. If it’s as bad as it was when I went here, I’m not gonna let you waste your meal card money on it. There’s a cart outside of the athletics center, I stopped by it this morning. It’s still good.”

Trying your best to mask the shock you were feeling by his answer, you quickly nodded. “Oh, okay. Sounds good.”

You spent the entire afternoon with him. Coffee turned into lunch, and lunch turned into a long walk. Although you both had things to do, neither of you wanted to say goodbye and go on with your day. You skipped the rest of your classes for the day, letting Art show you around campus. He took you to all the places you had never been, and you kept quiet and let him show you anyway when you passed somewhere you had already been a hundred times. He was polite and asked you about your major and career goals, even managing a graceful smile when it was his turn to tell you about his career and how it unfolded after he graduated. He was careful to leave out the end, but he found himself comfortable enough to tell you about the first few years. You asked what you could, but you really didn’t know enough about the sport to ask much of anything.

“I’m boring you to death, aren’t I?” he asked when there was a lapse in silence after you passed a poster with his face on it for a Wimbledon campaign.

“No, not at all!” you replied, tilting your head up towards the poster. “I’m just wondering how you managed it.”

Art cocked a brow, turning towards you. “Managed what?”

“Not becoming a complete asshole,” you shrugged, making him burst out laughing. “I’m serious! You’re not the first celebrity to come here during alumni week. The difference between you and them is that you didn’t show up and immediately start bragging about how successful you had become. As far as I can tell, you’re the same as when you graduated. That seems pretty rare.”

“There’s not much to brag about,” he shrugged, too humble for his own good.

“A career Grand Slam isn’t worth bragging about?” you asked, turning away from him when he gave you a confused look. “Okay, fine, I may or may not have Googled you back in the restaurant while you were in the bathroom. I was running out of things to ask you, and I figured I should know something about tennis. Anyway, I was impressed.”

Art just chuckled. “I’m flattered.”

After walking a few more minutes, the street lamps turned on. It had gotten late enough in the evening that they were starting to light up around the darker parts of the campus. It was your cue to stop walking and look around, both of you realizing how long it had been since you started talking.

“I guess I should be headed back to my dorm,” you said, a hint of disappointment in your voice. “My roommate is probably freaking out by now. She knows I never really go anywhere after class without her—and yes, I heard how pathetic that sounded as it came out. She’s probably gonna call campus security if I don’t show up soon.”

Art nodded, knowing you were right. And yet, his feet didn’t move. Neither of you made any attempt to leave, still standing under the soft light of the street lamps. Art looked at you with soft eyes, absentmindedly reaching to fiddle with his wedding ring with his thumb before he remembered it wasn’t there anymore. Finally, he cleared his throat. 

“Well…I guess this is the part where I ask you for your number.”

“It was nice meeting you, too—” you started, doing a double take once his words registered. “Wait, what?”

Art let out a nervous laugh, shrugging. “You bought me a coffee, it’s only fair that I do the same. I’m here all week. Maybe you’d want to do this again sometime?”

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, that sounds good,” you replied, trying your best and failing to sound as nonchalant as you could.

Art smiled and pulled out his phone, opening his contacts. He handed it over to you, watching as you typed in your number before handing his phone back to him. You fought the heat pooling in your cheeks, fiddling with the strap of your bag. Art grinned, breaking the silence. 

“Go find your roommate. Tell her to call off the search party.”

You chuckled, nodding. “I’m on it. Well…bye, Art.”

“Bye, Y/N. I’ll text you,” he replied, enjoying watching you shuffle back and forth on your heels. 

He made you nervous. And for some reason, he liked that. He’d spent practically the last decade of his life perpetually nervous. It was nice to know someone else felt the same way. 

He watched you go as you turned around and headed back to your dorm, a distant but still familiar warmth in his chest. He’d only known you for a few hours, but he could already tell he liked you. By the time you made it back to your dorm and managed to come up with an excuse for your roommate who immediately interrogated you the second you stepped through the door, your phone was ringing. You excused yourself to the bathroom with a bashful grin on your face, answering the call.

—

You spent the better part of a week with Art when you both had time between your classes and his seminars. 

It felt surprisingly easy and normal talking to him. Your small talk about your careers and plans turned into more personal topics, and then you were talking about anything and everything. You were fully aware of the age gap between you two, but it didn’t bother you nearly as much as you thought it would. If anything, it was part of the draw to him. He was also kind and friendly, with a surprisingly self deprecating sense of humor that made you laugh. Not to mention the fact that he was drop dead gorgeous. You had to actively make sure he didn’t catch you staring at him when his head was turned. He made you want to actually giggle out loud, which is something you never thought you’d do over a guy.

By the end of the week when it was time for him to leave and go back to New York, you both were dreading saying goodbye. 

It was late in the evening, about an hour before he had to leave to catch his flight. He’d finally taken you to the courts, once again only lit by the street lamps overhead. It was the first time all week he’d stepped onto the court and actually wanted to be there, not surrounded by onlookers who knew every nook and cranny of his life and career. Instead it was you, the sweet pretty girl who made him genuinely laugh when you asked him why the points system would ever use the term love to describe a lacking score. 

He fiddled around for a while, teaching you a few serves and how to hold the racquet to hit the ball. Eventually he was on the other side of the net, watching you giggle and chase after the few balls he’d softly serve your way. He could hear you panting and the sound of your shoes skidding across the court, but your laughter was too sweet to make him stop. 

Finally, you stopped to take a break, sitting down on the bench. “Don’t look at me, I might cough up a lung.”

“Very impressive,” he smiled, passing you his water.

“Thank you,” you grinned, motioning between him in the court. “Go on, let’s see what you’ve got. I’m down for the count, but I’m sure the ball machine will be more than happy to fill in for me.”

Art smiled, watching you grin at him with flushed cheeks and glowy skin. If anyone else was asking, he wouldn’t have done it. He wasn’t interested in showing off his skills, or lack thereof to put it more accurately as of late — he’d stopped training as intensely after the divorce, no new tournaments waiting for him to come and win. But the look on your face when you asked was just one he couldn’t say no to. Plus, your knowledge of the sport wasn’t that vast. You probably wouldn’t notice if he slipped up anyway. And if you did, you’d be too kind to make him feel bad about it.

“If you insist,” he groaned, but he was still smiling to himself as he moved to the other side of the court.

You watched him play for a few more minutes. He really was something to see. Every movement he made was smooth and graceful, a far cry from the stumbling around and huffing and puffing you had been doing. Every ball hit its target, every serve lining up exactly where he wanted it to. As silly as it sounded, you actually had to prevent yourself from clapping once he finally slowed down and turned the machine off.

“Look at you go,” you smiled from the bench, handing him back his water as he walked back over.

His cheeks flushed pink, and he was silently praying you couldn’t see it from under the low lights. He was too busy getting all flustered to reply to you, and it made you smile. It was silent for a long moment as you stared at each other, before he finally stood up. You followed him, a sinking feeling in your gut as you realized that it was probably time to say goodbye.

It had been a week you had never even dreamed would’ve happened to you, and yet it did. The one risk you decided to take had led to the most fun you’d had in your entire time at Stanford. You didn’t want to see him go.

As you looked up at him with soft eyes and a melancholy look on your face, like you were looking to him for all the answers, Art felt a sharp tug in his chest. He found himself immediately wanting to fix it, wanting to make you smile again — smile because of him. He’d have done anything in that moment to get you to laugh again.

So, against his better judgment, he leaned in and kissed you. 

It was a spur of the moment decision, one he almost immediately regretted. But then he felt you sink into the kiss, your hands coming up to his waist to steady yourself. He cupped your cheeks and pulled you into him, unable to stop the smile spreading across his lips. 

And that was all it took — he was falling, and falling hard. 

—

That was months ago now, and yet, Art still found reasons to visit you. 

When there was lapses in tours, or it was Tashi’s week with Lily, he always somehow found himself ending up coming right back to you. He’d pick you up from your dorm, and you’d spend the entire day with him. On weekends, you ended up in whatever hotel he was staying at, telling your roommate you were going back home for a few days. When you weren’t together, you were constantly texting or calling. He even sent a postcard once when the ATP took him to Europe. It was cheesy, but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face all day when you got it in the mail. 

You hadn’t exactly put a label on the relationship, but it was clear to the both of you that you meant more to each other than either of you cared to admit out loud. Quite a bit more, actually.

And Art wasn’t stupid — he knew what your relationship looked like. 

Recently divorced, a younger woman by his side. If they knew, the media would paint him as one of two options: an easily manipulated victim of a gold digger, or a washed up athlete who split with his wife that was now taking what he could get, the younger and prettier the better. 

But that wasn’t it at all for Art.

It wasn’t just sex, or a new pretty face. You were something different. A breath of fresh air. Someone who didn’t care about his career or money or fame. You had no interest in what he could offer you, or what you could get out of him. You never made him feel pressured to do anything or talk about anything he didn’t want to. He’d spent so many years craving a sense of normalcy and peace. Time and time again, he’d wanted to go to Tashi and beg for a break in his routine. But, always too afraid to disappoint her and everyone else watching him, he stayed quiet. He never got a break. As odd as it was to say, that’s what you were to him when he met you — a break. A minute to breathe, a moment to relax. He always felt that way around you.

Simply put, he was head over heels for you. He didn’t think he’d feel like that for another woman after Tashi until he met you, and it shocked him how easily the feeling came to him.

And it wasn’t just him that had fallen. 

You practically hung on every word he said, and soaked up every ounce of praise he gave you. You had never been with someone like him before. Someone so experienced and sure of himself, but just as gentle and patient as he was sure. He made you laugh and smile, and he made you feel safe. For whatever reason he had taken interest in you, you didn’t care, you just didn’t want it to stop. You clung to it, enjoying it while it lasted.

And if either of you had anything to say about it, it would last.

—

By the time you finished explaining your relationship with Art to your roommate, she was already pushing you out the door. 

“Go, go, go,” she squealed, tossing you your keys. “Wait!”

She wrapped her hand around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks as she glanced down at the outfit she chose. “Is that a new dress? Did he buy you a dress? Oh my god, please tell me he has a brother.”

“Not sure,” you grinned, smoothing your hand down your front. “Show up to alumni week next time and find out.”

You were already pressing a kiss to her cheek and rushing down the hall before she could get out another word, giggling as you made your way to the stairs.

On the drive over to the hotel, the nerves in your stomach were making you nervously tap your fingers on the steering wheel. You must’ve got caught by every stop light, making the trip even longer. You were practically vibrating once you finally pulled into the parking lot, grabbing your bag and hurrying inside before your nerves got the better of you and made you stand like an idiot in the lobby, trying to muster up the courage to get in the elevator. You coasted on autopilot as you forced your feet to lead you upstairs to his floor, all the way down to his door. You only came back into your body when you raised a hand to knock on the door, pausing to take a deep breath.

Just knock, you thought to yourself. You’re a big girl. Just knock.

You had barely even knocked twice on the door before the door swung open, and you came face to face with Art. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you took a second to take him in. Still as pretty as you remembered, and every bit as alluring. You could feel yourself melting. 

The feeling was mutual. 

Art let out a sigh of relief, like it was the first good breath he had taken in weeks. A genuine smile crept onto his face as he reached for you, practically making grabby hands like a child. 

“Come here, pretty girl.”

You tried and failed to stifle a giggle, immediately burying yourself in his chest. You let out a hmph as you pressed your cheek against him, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist. You could feel his thumb running along the bare skin of your arm, his lips pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He nudged the door closed with his foot, tugging your bag from your shoulder and setting it on the floor without even letting you go. He was warm to the touch, and steady against you. He hummed into your hair, squeezing you tighter.

“There she is,” he murmured, letting out a small laugh. “My girl.”

“Hi, baby,” you giggled, the sound making his heart soar in his chest. 

He slowly walked you backwards to the bed, supporting most of your weight as you laid down. He was quick to follow, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder. His arms hooked lazily around your waist, his weight pressing you into the mattress.

This is what you both had been waiting for. This feeling, this moment. Just this.

“You look very pretty today,” he whispered into your skin, pressing a kiss where his lips rested. “All this for me?”

The humor in his voice made you grin, your fingers running through his hair. “Couldn’t let you be that pretty all by yourself.”

Art smiled, pressing his face further into your neck as he let out a breath. You tightened your grip around him, holding him close. You let your eyes close, resting your cheek against the top of his head. 

A comfortable silence fell over the both of you, as easy as it ever was.

—

A/N - Hi! So sorry this took so long to get out, thank you for your patience. I keep rereading this and editing it over and over, I’m not totally happy with it. But something is better than nothing, and I’m tired of staring at, so here you go! Hope this is ok, let me know what you think :)

[world0fmadness]

TALK TO ME

lando norris x voice actress! reader

♡ general dating headcanons for lando with a voice actress partner!

୨୧ the game release dates are almost all wrong but just… shhh! you guys have been dating since mid 2022 <3

♡ related smau available here and related hc available here | view my formula 1 masterlist here

reading music recommendations: death stranding by chvrches - devil trigger by casey edwards

♡ sticking with the meeting story from lovely voice, i’ll expand on it a little!

୨୧ lando was streaming resident evil village one afternoon, wanting a switch up from his usual games and he’d heard good things about this one so why not play it?

♡ little did he know how much a video game would absolutely change his life <3

୨୧ within and hour he reaches castle dimitrescu

♡ he’s immediately in awe of one character, but it’s not who you’d probably think…

୨୧ instead of simping for lady dimitrescu, like most people do, he was down bad for bela dimitrescu who just so happened to be voiced by you!

♡ he was VERY vocal about how much he was in love with this character but especially her voice… almost demanding his chat to give him the name of her voice actress…

“ guys, who voices this character here? god, she’s got such a lovely voice hasn’t she? can’t just be me who thinks that… ” ( it definitely wasn’t just him, he converted almost his entire chat info bela dimitrescu worshipers )

୨୧ not long after he begged from the voice actresses name, multiple people in his chat post your social media handle and as soon as he sees it filling up the chat, he pauses the game to take a peek

“ bloody hell! that’s her? well the face certainly matches the voice, hm? she’s beautiful ” ( this clip of him goes absolutely insane on twitter )

♡ when you guys officially begin dating, lando goes on a binge, playing almost all of the games you’ve voiced a character in!

୨୧ one of the most infamous being until dawn, which he played on stream…

♡ he had no idea how easy it is to lose a character in that game and you didn’t tell him, wanting to see how far he could get before killing someone off

୨୧ it didn’t take long at all and the first character to die was yours :( you got your jaw pried open and head crushed by a wendigo

“ oh bloody hell, love! i’m sorry, oh fuck, that’s horrible, is it over? i’m so sorry, oh my god… ” ( you could be heard laughing so loud in your shared bedroom before coming in to offer him some comfort )

♡ safe to say lando was fucking traumatised… to see your face and hear your brutal screaming, it was way too much for him and he felt horrible! it was enough to make him restart the game

୨୧ on his second playthrough, he just wants to keep your character safe, all the others can get lost, he doesn’t care but his baby? she’s making it OUT!

♡ and your character does make it out! she was the only one left alive but lando is fine with that, as long as you’re alive

୨୧ whenever you’re on a comic-con panel, you’ll get a question about lando every once and a while

♡ like most voice actors and actresses, you the the motion capture for a lot of your characters too!

୨୧ this has led to a lot of footage of you and lando behind the scenes of games making into “ the making of ” documentaries!

♡ a fan favourite being the documentary for the last of us part II! it had quite a few clips of lando coming onto set and constantly making you laugh during scenes, making crude gestures towards you and calling you “ dotface ”

୨୧ he got kicked off set many times… but that wasn’t enough, oh no! naughty dog wanted revenge for how many times they had to reshoot a scene…

♡ so they got their revenge in the form of lying to lando! they told him they wanted to give him a simple, innocent cameo in the jackson section of the game! he’d be an innocent npc

୨୧ lando was so excited! he agreed right away, letting them take the 360 scans of his face and body, he couldn’t wait to see himself when he played it on stream!

♡ when he did play it on stream, he was incredibly confused as to where he was in jackson, he couldn’t find himself… but he figured maybe he just missed it! all the while you’re sitting in the next room, watching his stream with a downright evil smile on your face

୨୧ he comes across his face and body a little later in the game and oh boy, he was SO upset!

♡ his character wasn’t some innocent npc… oh no… his character was a wlf member that ellie, your character, has to brutally kill to proceed with the story

“ that’s me! for fuck sake! love, did you know about this?! ” ( of course you knew, but you were too busy laughing at how upset he was to answer his question )

୨୧ safe to say he never trusted a developer ever again…

♡ lando is a HUGE shipper for a lot of your character’s relationships!

୨୧ seyloy? he’d scream it from the rooftops, he was rooting for them to just kiss already for the entire burning shores dlc and he yelled SO loud when they finally did <3

“ finally! you know i was getting really worried they wouldn’t make it official… thank god ” ( again, you can just be heard laughing in the background before yelling out “ seyloy for life ” which he repeats back to you whilst chuckling )

♡ one of your favourite characters you’ve ever had the pleasure of voicing is clementine in telltale’s the walking dead!

୨୧ it was the first character you EVER voiced at the age of 8 and you really grew up alongside your character, always coming back to voice her in the following seasons as she grew up

♡ the final season at age 16 was especially special to you because it reveals clementine to be bisexual, just like you… and it’s how you came out to your fans too

୨୧ you and lando have said if you ever have a child, you’ll give them the middle name “ clementine ” because of how much the character means to you <3

♡ of course, children aren’t something you two plan to have very soon so you adopt a dog and end up naming her clementine ( you love calling her sweet pea too )

୨୧ you and lando treat her like a princess and take her everywhere with you guys! one time, you bought her a little replica of clementine’s hat and lando thought it was so damn cute, he made you wear yours and got a picture of you two together before sending it to EVERYONE he knows

♡ whenever you get new roles, he’s so excited for you!

୨୧ he loves letting you practice lines with him at home, though he can never stay serious for long and starts cracking jokes within ten minutes

♡ but he really is just so supportive! when your new game trailer releases, he’s sharing it on ALL of his social medias, flexing about how he has such a talented partner who has played all of these amazing characters and don’t even get me started about when he’s in the paddock… he talks about you to EVERYONE who’s willing to listen

“ well, she has a new game coming out soon so she’s pretty excited to see fan reactions to her character in that and then she has some panels to do as well ” ( it won’t be long before he’s pulling up pictures of some of your characters to show them too )

୨୧ and whenever he’s in the city, if he sees a billboard or any other type of promotion for your upcoming game, he always takes a photo before sending it to you! if you character is on the promotion, he’s asking if you know “ who that beautiful lady is ”

♡ if any of your characters get figurines, he buys them ALL!

୨୧ he has a shelf for them in his streaming room, next to the shelf with his racing stuff on it… two things he loves so much right next to each other

♡ since oscar is also a pretty big gamer and plays some games that you have a character in, it’s pretty common for him to send lando pictures of character at unflattering angles, jokingly asking him “ is this your girl? ”

୨୧ to which lando promptly responds “ yes, yes it is, and what? ”

♡ when you were nominated for a best voice actress award for your role as aloy in horizon forbidden west at the game awards in 2024, lando was ecstatic for you!

୨୧ you’d already won two previous awards, one for your role as clementine in telltale’s the walking dead and another for your role as ellie in the last of us part II in 2023, so if you won again, this would be the second award you’d received whilst dating lando

♡ he dresses up SO good for the awards, just as you do of course, and as soon as you arrive at the event and your pictures are posted to social media… oh it was a frenzy

୨୧ most people were going nuts over how good you both looked whilst some people said nothing would ever top him wearing the custom made cult of the lamb suit at the 2023 game awards

♡ the award show is going great, you and lando loving to see all of the other incredibly talented people receive their awards and chatting to people around you but eventually, it’s time for the winner of best voice actress to be revealed…

୨୧ lando holds your slightly sweaty hand in his, squeezing it as they read out your name as one of the nominees

♡ when your name is read out as the winner, lando lets out the loudest yell right in your ear before helping you stand up and giving you a tight hug

“ YES! oh i knew it love, i knew you’d win! go on, go get your award, i love you ” ( he gives you a quick peck before you walk off too, no doubt being screen recorded by fans watching at home )

୨୧ while you’re on stage accepting your award and giving your speech ( making sure to thank lando at least twice for his constant love and support ) he’s filming you and taking pictures of you on his phone, as if there aren’t multiple professional photographers doing that for him, he looks like a proud mother holding his phone up and very quietly cheering you on from his seat

♡ you guys go out for dinner with some of your co stars after the award show ends, lando constantly telling you how proud of you he is

“ i’m so proud of you, you know that? you deserve it so much, you really do, love ” ( he has so much love in his eyes whilst saying it, it’s nearly enough to make you cry )

୨୧ you spend the rest of the night enjoying a delicious dinner, your dream boyfriend by your side and close friends chatting amongst each other

♡ what a night it was…

landonorris: everyone say congratulations yn! my girl just won her THIRD best voice actress award! i’m so beyond proud of you love, my greatest achievement in life is being able to love someone as talented and beautiful as you

ynln ✔️: oh, lando 🥹

> ynln ✔️: thank you so much, i love you more than you know

> landonorris ✔️: love you so much more

> ynln ✔️: do you ALWAYS have to turn stuff into a competition? 😩

> landonorris ✔️: absolutely ❤️

landoynforever: congratulations yn! three awards is insane…

> loveyouyn: right? no one is doing it like her 😭

oscarpiastri ✔️: congratulations yn! speech could’ve used some work but i’d say it was decent

> ynln ✔️: i’ll pretend that last last little bit isn’t there, thank you oscar!

[leclercsluvs]

MV1 | Songs of a Healing Heart | smau

part 1

an: did i disappear for like 2 months? yeah. is this what i meant to post first thing back? no. not really tbh. also time stamps are not important. also the timeline does not exist in this universe, i'm including some things that's happened irl (emails i can't send), but that doesn't mean i won't use earlier songs (on purpose). also it has been some time since i last wrote something, and my first language is not english, so this isn't perfect <3 fc: sabrina carpenter pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader warnings: swearing, a spoiler for chicago fire (a character death, i will also be reminding you, when it comes, so you can skip that one post it's honestly not that important to the story) inspired by: i can do it with a broken heart - taylor swift

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, & 1.936.203 others yourusername guess who’s single again and guess who has an album coming 🥳🎉💃🎊🎈🎀

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user1 OMG OMG OMG NEW MUSIC NEW MUSIC WHO’S THE HEARTBREAKER???

user2 this is gonna be my fav album of ALL TIME ❤️ by author

maxverstappen1 who hurt you?

yourusername shut the fuck up ❤️ maxverstappen1 never 😌 danielricciardo wow max, really shooting your shot nicely hm maxverstappen1 shut the fuck up ❤️

yourusername

liked by georgerusell63, charles_leclerc, & 1.016.358 others yourusername *aggressively writes songs* >:)

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georgerussell63 why do you need to do it aggressively?

yourusername because why not?🤷‍♀️ georgerussell63 because aggression is not the answer 🤨 yourusername says who? >:( georgerussell63 says max yourusername that’s a lie.

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, & 1.398.244 others yourusername guess what’s finally here! to everyone asking, i’m doing fine, don't worry.

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charles_leclerc okay so there was definitely more than one asking if she’s fine, who else did?

maxverstappen1 i did danielricciardo i did landonorris i did lewishamilton i did yourusername you all did 😑 oscarpiastri like everyone??? 🤔 yourusername as in everyone on the grid, even a few not on the grid anymore. the next one asking, will be feeling my greatness. logansargeant if that’s a threat, max should be the next one asking maxverstappen1 what the fuck

yourusername (chicago fire spoiler)

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, & 2.542.658 others yourusername this idiot forced me out of the house (i was very busy and comfortable watching chicago fire) and now i’m at the track?????

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maxverstappen1 you’re welcome

yourusername i’m not thanking you. i’m fine maxverstappen1 then why were you crying? yourusername uhm because otis just died and he was a good character georgerussell63 SPOILER WARNING??? OTIS DIES?? yourusername oh whoops yeah he does. very sad. very cryable.

charles_leclerc max is right yn. you need to get out a bit more.

yourusername aww charles defending his boyfriend

user3 yn is hanging out with the drivers???

user 4 well yeah. she and max have been friends for quite some time now. she's been to a few races as well user3 woah how did i not know?? user4 she kept a low profile because her boyfriend (or ex) didn’t really want it to be too public. she did take photos with some fans but asked of them to not take photos of her and her bf. how the paparazzi didn't catch them is a mystery to me.

maxverstappen1

liked by landonorris, yourusername, & 2.990.363 others maxverstappen1 isn’t she cute when she’s being sad in the rain on top of your car so you can’t drive her home?

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yourusername now why would you post this? :(

maxverstappen1 because you got yourself sick. yourusername that’s not a good reason danielricciardo because he loooooooves you maxverstappen1 shut the fuck up daniel yourusername shut the fuck up daniel

user5 max and yn having matching responses to daniel saying max loves yn is super cute imo

alexandrasaintmleux i would never post pics like this of you 💕

yourusername we should leave them and go live happily ever after 🤭 charles_leclerc you do know we can see your comment right? alexandrasaintmleux oh so you can see? 🤨 charles_leclerc I SAID I’M SORRY

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, & 1.207.087 others yourusername oh? had a lovely dinner. thank you anonymous man.

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maxverstappen1 looks cozy 👀

yourusername definitely enjoyed the company 🙃 danielricciardo i feel like there’s secrets here 🤨 yourusername like what?

landonorris looks a little like max

oscarpiastri what if it was me? then i would be hurt by this statement :( landonorris well you and i spent the day together yesterday  so i know it’s not you.

user6 okay but the power duo that is max and yn

user7 if it is max

user8 if he makes her happy i guess that’s great? ❤️ by author

[sundrop-writes]

Picture Perfect

(Perv)Sub!Mike Schmidt x Dom!Fem!Reader

Summary:

You and Mike have been dating for a few months now, and you have a great thing going. You're both very horny people who are more than happy to indulge in your desires with each other. So why is it that you find him hiding a dirty picture from you when you catch him masturbating one morning?

(Perv)Sub!Mike Schmidt x Dom!Fem!Reader. Established Relationship. Smut. Takes place outside the movie's canon.

Word Count: 5,100

Horror Characters Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: This is primarily a smut fic; this can be read with or without considering the events of the film, and has no spoilers for the plot of the movie. There are dom/sub dynamics here - Mike is more submissive and the reader is more dominant; because this is a pre-established relationship, the characters have been settled into these dynamics for a while and even though it's not discussed during the fic, we can assume they have established safewords and fully talked about each other's boundaries so everyone is safe and well cared for; she reader has female anatomy, and uses she/her pronouns (but with all my fics, most of the pronouns used are you/yours); this fic does use Y/N. 

For the main smutty parts: some dubious consent - Mike took a picture of the reader’s underwear/up the reader’s skirt before they were dating (when she was sleeping and could not consent) she was physically attracted to him at the time and would have consented to the photo being taken if he could have asked and finds the idea of this happening to be hot but he never asked permission and hid this from her well into their relationship; the reader finds this photo and ‘punishes’ Mike for it even though she likes the photo and enjoys his perverted thoughts about her; descriptions of masturbation - Mike jacks-off when the reader is not looking/not in the room and she walks in on him; mentions of Mike being gagged; mentions of Mike being tied up and overstimulated (multiple orgasms); mentions of Mike eating the reader’s pussy; Mike is called ‘good boy’, ‘Mikey’, ‘baby’; mentions of the reader riding Mike, mentions of creampie kink; mentions of orgasm restriction (toward Mike); marking kink - mentions of the reader biting/marking Mike during a previous sexual encounter; Perv!Mike; mentions of sexual photos being taken with consent (of the reader and of Mike); hair-pulling (towards Mike); thigh riding - Mike rides the reader's thigh as his punishment; mentions of a cock cage (not actually used in the fic); mild pain kink; some descriptions of subspace (even though it’s not called that in the fic); degradation kink (the reader verbally degrades Mike); mentions of spanking; undertones of humiliation kink; mentions of underwear stealing (Mike stole a pair of the reader’s panties in the past); (mild) Mommy kink - Mike calls the reader Mommy (once or twice, it’s not all that prevalent in the fic); finger sucking.

A/N: Here, I did go far beyond what was in the original request, but I saw the mention of Polaroid pictures in the request and my mind immediately went to perv!Mike?? I’m not even sure why. But I had fun with this lmao. And I keep thinking of writing a kind of ‘prequel’ fic of the situation where he originally took the photo, but idk. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! If you want to see more Mike Schmidt fics from me, definitely let me know by reblogging this or commenting on it.

...

When you got out of the shower, the last thing you were expecting to hear was the distinct sound of moans coming from the bedroom. 

Not that you were at all disappointed by the needy, choked off sounds that your boyfriend Mike made. You were just… surprised. 

After the night the two of you had before, the fact that Mike had the desire to masturbate was surprising to say the least. 

You thought that you would have tired him out and left his cock sore and worn out for at least a good day to follow. It had been a rare night when the two of you had the house all to yourselves - Abby was sleeping over at a friend’s place (Mike often credited you with Abby being more open and sociable and feeling up to doing things like this where she wouldn’t have before) - and so, you had certainly taken advantage of that. You enjoyed a night where you could get him in bed without having to gag him or shove his face into a pillow in order to assure his silence. 

You had indulged in his sounds, in fact. 

You had spent the night with him tied to the bed, curious about how many times you could make him cum before his body outright gave up. The answer to that burning question was four, which was a record for him. After the forth orgasm spurted up over his belly, covering him in even more mess, you continued to milk him through it and his softening dick gave you nothing but pathetic clear drips of non-cum - he wept and begged you to stop, threatening that he might pass out from the efforts. 

With the satisfaction of the answer under your belt, and taking in the sight of him so debauched one last time, you finally untied him. And then he spent some time between your thighs, enjoying a reward for being such a good boy, shoving his tongue deep inside of you while the morning sun warmed the curtains, signifying that the two of you had truly been at it all night. 

The two of you eventually slept for a few hours in the morning. After waking up from the haze, you had peeled yourself out from under his heavy grip on your waist when you read the numbers on the digital clock sitting on his nightstand, seeing that it was almost noon - Abby would need to be picked up from her friend’s house soon, and you wanted a shower while Mike was still asleep. 

The last thing you were expecting was to emerge from the shower to the sounds of him getting off yet again. One thing you knew for certain since you had started fucking him - he was insatiable. He was seemingly always horny the moment that he got you behind closed doors. (And often, he couldn’t even wait to get you behind closed doors - something you loved, even if it was inconvenient.) But you thought that a night like last night would tire out the libido of someone even as horny as him. 

But you liked a challenge. 

If he wanted his cock to be truly sore, if he wanted his balls so thoroughly drained - then you would pin him to the bed and ride him with harshness and haste before you had to go pick Abby up. It would be a waste of a shower, but you usually found the feeling of his cum sticking to the inside of your underwear to be a fond one. 

“Mikey,” You called out the playful nickname as you walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. 

You had a towel wrapped around your chest - mostly to keep the chill of the air off you and to keep your wet body from dripping all over the carpet. Modesty wasn’t really a thing between you and Mike, not when you were so intensely familiar with each other’s naked bodies now. 

At the sound of your voice, Mike let out a choked sound, and you saw his movements pause - which was entirely strange. It’s not like you hadn’t seen his naked cock before. It’s not like you hadn’t seen him masturbate before - several times, you had him do so just for your viewing pleasure. 

If he wasn’t allowed to touch himself as a punishment, you always told him so very clearly. But last night, you made no such rule. You simply expected that he wouldn’t want to after the thorough fucking you had given him. So you had to wonder why he was trying to hide from you. 

You walked to stand on his side of the bed, and he stared at you with wide, startled eyes, covering his hard cock with both hands. The sheet was draped around his thighs, revealing his nakedness, as well as showing off the many purpling bite marks that you had left on his chest, stomach, hips and thighs the night before. He was an absolutely perfect picture of sweet debauchery that you would hold fondly in your mind forever. 

“Baby, what are you doing?” You inquired gently, entirely curious as to why he had stopped. “You don’t have to hide from me.” 

“I - I thought you would be in the shower… longer.” He breathed out, pure guilt on his voice. It was almost adorable, seeing how he could go from fucked-out and begging to completely shy about his own desires. 

“I would have invited you to join me in the shower if I knew you wanted more,” You chuckled, stepping forward and running your fingers through his hair, petting him like the sweet puppy that he was. “Needy little thing, aren’t you?” 

Mike leaned into the touch, closing his eyes - the surge of soft pleasure that your simple touch pushed through him caused his arms to go loose, dropping away from shielding his crotch. This made him inadvertently drop something onto the sheets that he had been hiding from you in his closed fist. 

You noticed the ruffle of what sounded like paper and saw the object fall out of the corner of your eye. So you abandoned gently stroking your fingers across his scalp in favor of investigating what it was. 

Mike’s eyes widened in horror and he froze up, completely stiff as you picked up the polaroid picture, and raised it up to get a better look at it. 

Immediately, you knew it was a picture of yourself. 

You knew that Mike had a collection of dirty shots of you. It had only been a few weeks into your sex life when he had pulled out the camera and shyly asked to take pictures of you. You had bargained that he could take as many as he wanted, if you could take some photos of him in return. He kept his pictures of you in a shoebox under his bed and you kept yours in a special jewelry box on your vanity. 

But this picture wasn’t one that you recognized. 

It was your ass - a shot of your dress pulled up from behind, revealing you wearing a simple pair of cotton panties (not something you would have worn for the other ‘photoshoots’, not some impressive lingerie). In the photo, your legs were lazily parted, revealing the way the underwear was slightly caught between the lips of your cunt, even showing your pubes sticking out slightly from the fabric. If you weren’t mistaken, based on the color, that was Mike’s couch you were laying on. 

But when had the photo been taken? 

“Look, Y/N, please, I’m so sorry-” Mike swallowed harshly, desperate to get some air into his lungs as he begged for your forgiveness. “You were just so pretty - and - and - I couldn’t help myself. I know it was awful, just - please, please, don’t be mad.” 

That was when it clicked in your mind. 

You recognized the pattern on the fabric of your dress. You had worn it on the first night you had babysat Abby for Mike - back when the two of you weren’t even dating yet. That night, you had fallen asleep on the couch after you put Abby to bed. And later in the night, you thought nothing of it when you saw Mike’s polaroid camera sitting on a random side table when it hadn’t been there before. It hadn’t even crossed your mind as suspicious after he had woken you up, thanked you for helping out, and let you out the front door for the night. 

That dirty little pervert. 

You resisted the urge to grin at this realization, putting on a stony face and faking anger. You couldn’t have him thinking that this action would pass without punishment. Even if you heavily enjoyed the idea of being a perverted little admirer of you before the two of you even got together. 

You reached over and put your hand on the back of his head, this time digging sharp nails into his hair in a fierce, unforgiving grip instead of petting him so gently. He winced as this, and you noticed a distinct bit of precum weeping out of his still hard cock at the action. You yanked on his head harshly, forcing him to look up at you while you turned the photo around and shoved it in his face. 

Instinctively, knowing that it would likely only make his punishment worse to oggle over his mistakes, he looked you dead in the eyes, resisting the temptation to stare at your ass in the photo. 

“When did you take this?” You asked, already knowing the answer, but wanting him to say it. To emphasize your words, you yanked on his hair again and jabbed the picture closer to his face. 

He breathed out harshly, but didn’t fight against your grip, keeping his large, glossy, guilty eyes staring up at you. 

“Look, I know I did a bad boy thing, I know it was bad, but please, please, I’ll make it up to you.” He begged so beautifully. “I’ll be a good boy, I’ll be a good boy for you, I promise.” 

His words were pitched soft with need, and it was a unique tone that made your stomach clench. As tempting as the offer was, you couldn’t go soft on him now. 

“Answer the question!” You pressed, tugging his neck back even harsher with your grip on his hair. 

“It - it was a long time ago!” He rushed to answer. “I - I shouldn’t have done it, I know that! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” 

“Why did you do it if you knew it was bad?” You asked. 

This was the most interesting question to you. The thing you were most curious about. 

You wondered why Mike felt the need to invade your privacy with something like this when you simply would have given in to his advances if he had asked. 

You had been attracted to Mike since you met him. The entire reason you had taken on the job of babysitting his sister was because you found him to be so intensely attractive, and you wanted to get to know him better. At the time, he was someone who seemed shy and generally anti-social, you yearned to be closer to him. That night, if you had woken up and caught him staring at your panties, you probably would have taken them off and given them to him as a gift just to see his reaction. 

You were too curious to know why he felt that he had to sneak such a dirty photo of you and to this day, even after all that the two of you had done together - still kept that photo a secret. 

“I - I -” 

Mike’s whining stutters were cut off by the sound of the phone ringing. 

You heaved out a sigh and let go of him. On your way along to answer it, you shoved the photo into your purse, which was sitting open on his dresser. He was curious as to why you chose to keep it from him rather than destroying it. He heard your voice brightly from down the hall as you answered the phone and spoke to whoever it was on the other end, and he tattered with nerves as he heard you walking back down the hall. 

“Get dressed.” You barked at him when you reentered the bedroom. “We have to go pick Abby up. We’ll finish talking about this later.” 

Later. That certainly left a lovely slice of doom hanging over his head. 

You had your back turned to him, picking clothes out of the drawer he had cleared for you in his dresser (one step closer to you moving in, he had thought wistfully while moving your stuff into that drawer) - but this left one thing on his mind. 

“Okay.” Mike croaked quietly. “How should I-?” 

He trailed off, and you turned back around with a tee shirt and panties in your hand to see him loosely gripping his still hard cock, slowly beginning to touch himself again. 

You realized that he was asking you how he should finish off, and this caused a wave of spite to roll through you. He thought he still deserved to cum. 

“I didn’t say anything about your dick.” You said, tone harsh and biting. “You don’t get to cum right now. I said get dressed, so get dressed.” 

You dropped your towel casually, moving to get dressed for yourself. This caused a whine from him as your nakedness was once again revealed - something he had seen so many times now that still caused his cock to throb and weep precum, his eyes utterly fixated on the tantalizing sway of your breasts as you leaned down to hook your feet into the fresh panties you had picked out. 

Mike let out a breathy whine, but took his hand off his cock. He looked at you with utterly pleading eyes, clearly wanting you to reconsider - but you wouldn’t budge from the subject. When he didn’t make a move to get up from the bed, you said something that you knew would put some urgency in him. 

“Don’t make me get the cage.” You threatened quietly. 

Mike was up in a moment, moving toward the bathroom to freshen up, eager to follow your instructions. His dick ached at the thought of the cock cage that you had gotten just for him - it was one of the most torturous punishments you had thought up yet. Sometimes he spent whole days with his dick trapped in the metal, unable to get hard, absolutely dizzying - making him silently resent the key worn around your neck that everyone else perceived as an innocent piece of jewelry. 

The two of you got ready for the day and the conflict was soon forgotten when you had Abby in the car. You took her for lunch at some cute little diner that one of your friends had recommended - Sparky’s - and while you ate, you listened to Abby chatter on excitedly about everything she and her friend had done the night before, including ordering pizza, watching a PG13 rated movie (which Mike pretended to disapprove of), painting their nails, and staying up all night telling ‘scary stories’. You were proud of how far she had come, sharing her imagination and joy with others and having some true friends of her own age now. 

After lunch, you and Mike had taken Abby to get some new shoes because she complained that hers were getting too small, and then after some browsing around the mall, it was time to go home and make dinner (if it wasn’t for you, those two would rarely eat anything that wasn’t pre-packaged). After dinner, you helped Abby work on a solar system project for school while Mike napped on the couch (and you couldn’t blame the guy, he had a tiring time the night before). 

You had since put Abby to bed, and busied yourself with cleaning up, glad that Mike was still asleep while you did the dishes. It always pleased you when he slept well - one of the reasons you liked to wear him out with sex was because it was a more natural sleep aid than his medication, and caused him to have a deeper, dreamless sleep without the stupid nightmares. You were more focused on the tasks in front of you than thinking about any possible punishment you might give him over it. 

The fact that Mike had taken a pervy photo of you was all but forgotten in your mind even as you were cleaning up the kitchen later that night. 

The photo and the controversy, the burning questions you had about it only came back to mind as you were attempting to scrub a combination of dried glitter glue and pasta sauce off the table and you noticed Mike not-so-subtly creeping around behind you - attempting to reach into your purse. 

He was trying to take the photo back. 

You quickly tossed down the cloth you had been using to clean up and moved toward Mike instead. You were on him before he could blink, taking his wrist in a bruising grip before his hand could successfully come out of your purse with the photo. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, even though you already knew exactly what he was up to. 

With your thumb pushing harshly into the pulse point of his wrist, and your eyes glaring daggers into his - he was quickly becoming light-headed and soft, the way he always did whenever you were on top of him or when you called him baby boy in that fond, sweet way that you often did. He couldn’t conjure up any real explanation, not when he was feeling this way. 

All he could manage was: 

“But - it’s mine.” He breathed out softly, almost a whiny protest - as if you had taken one of his most precious toys and stashed it away because he had misbehaved. 

In a sense, that was exactly what you had done. 

You could only imagine how many times he had masturbated to the photo before you had caught him. How many times had he cum, looking at that picture of your barely covered ass and pussy before the two of you even got together? Before he even saw you naked for the first time? How many times did he make himself cum when that was his only source of sexual material for his fantasies around you? 

It was these burning questions and the thumping ache between your thighs that spurred your next move. 

You used your hold on his wrist to handle him how you pleased, knowing that a little bit of pain made him so easily pliant to your wills. You shoved him into the small kitchen and shoved him up against one of the counters, beside where your purse was sitting, and he huffed out a quiet whine as you trapped him there. You easily caged him in with one of your hands on either side of his waist, slotting your legs around his so that your thigh was right up against his denim clad crotch. 

You pressed forward slightly with your knee, applying a slight bit of pressure that might be painful on his tender cock and balls (especially after last night). But the roughness of the hard seam of his jeans pressing against his tender flesh, even through his underwear, only lit sparks through him and added to that soft, mushy headspace that he was in. 

He refused to look at you now, shifting his gaze off to the side as you pressed further into his personal space, pressing your nose against the side of his unshaven face. 

“It’s yours?” You posed in response to what he had said, your tone utterly mocking. “It’s yours, is it?” 

You reached off to the side and flawlessly grabbed the photo inside your bag without looking (the texture of a polaroid very unique to feel for) - and you held it up in his view, forcing him to look at it while you spoke again. 

“Then surely, you can explain to me how a good boy like you came to own something like this,” You said, your voice dripping with satire toward the ‘good boy’ title he had given himself earlier that day. 

“I’m sorry,” He whimpered, clearly apologetic about the subject. But- 

“That doesn’t explain how you got this, baby.” You told him, clicking your tongue in a scolding manner. “Come on, tell me about it.” 

You used a hand to grab him by both cheeks between your fingers, forcing him to look at you while he explained it. 

“I - I took it.” He admitted quietly. “I took a picture of you. When you weren’t looking. When you were… sleeping.” 

Again, something you already knew. But it was more satisfying to hear him say it, especially with the sharp bob of his throat as he gulped around his fear. 

“You just looked so pretty, I - I couldn’t help myself.” He whispered, clearly timid to admit his lack of self control. 

Though him lacking self control around you was an intense turn-on for you. 

“After everything I’ve given you, you just had to go and take. You had to be a greedy, filthy, bad boy,” You scolded him sharply. 

“It was different then.” He said quietly. “Then… I - I thought I couldn’t have you. I thought you wouldn’t give me anything at all. I - I didn’t think you’d ever want to fuck me.” 

“Oh?” You huffed quietly, your breath puffing out across his cheek, surprised by this revelation. “So you took this picture because you wanted a filthy little piece of me? You didn’t think I’d ever touch your pathetic needy cock so you had to perv on me in secret, huh?” 

He let out a sharp whine at this. It was rare that you degraded him so harshly, rather than praising him sweetly. Surely enough, even if it was unconsciously fueled by lust, his hips bucked toward you, dragging his cock along your thigh, still trapped inside of his jeans and rapidly hardening from the state of the conversation. 

“Look, I’m sorry-” 

“If you say ‘sorry’, one more time, I’m gonna spank you so fucking hard that you won’t be able to sit down for a week.” You threatened, your voice low and dark. 

He let out a whimper at this, and you weren’t entirely sure if the idea appealed to him or sounded like a true threat. He didn’t tempt you by speaking up again, so you continued. 

“Enough with the sorries.” You told him sharply. “How many times did you jack off to this picture without telling me? How often did you look at it, touching your hard, needy dick and thinking about what my cunt might feel like? Huh? Tell me, baby.” 

Mike jutted his hips again, grinding his hard cock against your thigh. 

“Please-” He croaked out. 

Clearly, he was begging for you to release him from the conversation, and to attend to his aching dick. But you didn’t have plans to do either. 

“If you want me to touch you again anytime soon, you’re going to get off against my thigh.” You demanded harshly. “Or you’re not going to get off at all.” 

Mike let out a pathetic, warbling whine in protest, sounding a lot like a kicked puppy. But still, he began to move more consistently against your leg - you stiffened your muscles on purpose and raised your thigh tighter against him, pushing your leg further into his crotch. This movement forced a puff of air from his lungs as you put more pressure on his hard cock. 

“And you’re going to answer my questions.” You added on, reaching behind him and grabbing his hair like you had earlier that day, knowing that a tight tug on his roots would certainly make him more pliant. 

“Ah! O-okay!” He shouted in return, and you hushed him gently. 

“When were you gonna tell me that you’re a dirty little pervert?” You asked, a mocking laughter dancing in your voice. 

Mike started up a rhythm as he fucked himself on your thigh. He whined in the back of his throat, his brow creasing - partially from the heat stirring in his gut and partially from the embarrassment of your interrogation - before he managed an answer. 

“I - I wasn’t.” He answered honestly. 

“How many other secret pervy pictures do you have of me?” You asked. 

“N-none!” He was quick to respond, eager to clear himself of this guilt. 

He definitely wasn’t going to tell you about the pair of your panties that he had stolen the first time he was over at your place. He also wasn’t going to mention the fact that he had snooped in your bathroom to see what brand of shampoo you used and bought the same one just so he could have your scent on tap. He didn’t need you thinking that he was totally pathetic.  

“Don’t lie to me!” You demanded, giving a sharp tug on his hair. 

“‘m not! I’m not! That’s the only one!” He slurred out, becoming more hazy and pleasure drunk as he ground himself harder into your thigh and his cock leaked into his underwear. His brain was absolutely fuzzy from the streaks of pain coming off his scalp when you pulled on his hair like that. 

“How many times have you jerked off to the picture?” You asked. 

More than once a week since he had taken it. It was his favorite guilty pleasure. 

Earlier that day, he hadn’t even meant to take out the photo and jerk off to it. He had been more than satisfied with everything that happened the night before. But when he had opened his nightstand looking for his watch to put it on for the day, and the photo fell from its place stuck underneath the drawer (a perfect hiding place, in his mind). And just like when he had taken the photo, as soon as he saw you so perfectly posed there, he just couldn’t help himself. The sight of your panties sticking out from under your dress just got to him. 

His cock was hard in seconds and next thing he knew, he was sitting there pumping his cock in one hand and holding the picture in the other, listening for the sound of the shower running and hoping he would finish before you did. 

Something about you was so absolutely intoxicating to him, sent his brain back to caveman levels of hormonal and caused him to make the stupidest dick-driven decisions ever. 

“Mommy,” He begged quietly. “Mommy, please.” 

Your stomach clenched - it was a name he used in an attempt to soften you up, trying to make you pliant to his big eyes and whimpering breaths. 

He grabbed both of your hips and tried shoving his face into your neck to hide himself as his hips stuttered against your leg, humping hopelessly like a needy puppy. You yanked him back by the hair before he could fully hide himself and he exhaled in a needy, simpering tone, deflating like a balloon as his shoulders sagged. For a moment, he stopped the movement of his hips altogether - as if expecting you to take over in some way and make him cum. 

“Mommy is only sweet to good boys.” You whispered in his ear. “Mommy punishes dirty little bad boys who can’t take their head out of their dick long enough to behave.” 

He squeezed out a hot breath, seemingly deflating more. You used your free hand to grab his hip, and began guiding him to hump along your thigh once again. 

“Come on, baby.” You encouraged him. “If you don’t cum like this, you don’t get to come for a week.” You gave a gentle warning. “Are you gonna be a good boy? Or are you a stupid little perv? Hmm?” 

The harsh degradation behind your words, the motivation for him to be seen as a good boy in your eyes - that truly got him going again. 

“I’m a good boy.” He said quietly, fucking himself against you, moaning quietly as the friction caused sharp tingles against his cock. “I’m - I’m a good boy.” 

“Show me.” You told him firmly. “Show me what a good boy does.” 

“Please,” He breathed out. “Fuck, Mommy. Please!” 

You knew that he needed more, and you did pity him to an extent - so you gave another tug on his hair and slipped your other hand under the back of his shirt, raking your nails across his back, making claw marks that you knew he loved. The stinging feeling of your nails biting into his skin causing pure sparks that sent heat straight between his thighs. When you leaned in and sharply bit his neck, that truly sent him over the edge, causing him to lose all sense of rhythm and having him bucking wildly, mindlessly against your thigh as he flooded the inside of his underwear with cum. 

“Fuck! Y/N!” He shouted. 

“Shut up!” You bit back. 

You stood back up to your full height, shoving your fingers between his lips to gag him. You knew that you had to be mindful of his volume when she was so deep in it, so absolutely lost in the pleasurable haze that he didn’t care how loud he was being. 

He rode out his orgasm gagging slightly with your fingers pressed against his tongue, his eyes tightly screwed shut, a light sweat gathered on his brow as he continued to hump against your leg, carrying himself through it. 

After a few moments, Mike’s rattling moans turned into harsh, open-mouthed pants around your fingers as he caught his breath, and you eased your fingers out of his mouth, enjoying the thread of spit that came off his lips far too much. 

When he collapsed his head onto your shoulder this time, you let him. 

“You’re - you’re not really mad about the picture, are you?” He asked, gently huffing the words into your shirt as he struggled to catch his breath. “Because if-” 

“I’m not mad about it.” You clarified, moving your hand from under his shirt to pet through his hair calmly, wanting to reassure him of this. “In fact, I think it’s pretty hot.” 

“Really?” He asked, his gaze shooting up to inspect your expression, almost not believing your words. Even though you were always very honest and transparent when communicating your feelings to him. 

“Yes.” You answered honestly. “I think it’s hot that you found me so attractive from the moment we met.” 

“‘Attractive’ is a bit of an understatement.” He mumbled quietly in response. 

Interesting.

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

Heyo! Got a question or two. (Or six-)

- Do you ship Mabifica? Or Dipcifica for that matter? I personally like the former more but I'm just imagining Bill's reaction to having to deal with the fact the girl who insulted Mabel is now dating her/her brother.

Actually, even if you ship neither, I just want his reaction the the Pine twins now being friends(?) With Paz.

Would he try to scare her off? Would he warm up to her?

(If you couldn't already tell, Pacifica is one of my favorite characters, just below Mabel.)

- Does Stan and Ford ever get as close as they did at the end of the show? I mean, Ford must be reeling, sure. But.. Do they ever get on that boat?

- Does Bill make an effort to reconcile with Ford? Even just a show of apology?

- And does Ford bond with the twins? Would he just see them as another thing Bill has tainted?

- Also. Are you planning to make fanfiction of this? Or a comic? Or any media that tells the story? It's now become an integral part of my life.

- Last one! What other bonding moments does Bill have with Wendy? We've got the bets, yeah. But is that all?

(I found your au an hour and a half ago, and I'm already this invested. That is absolutely amazing, considering I don't really latch on to things. (Thanks a lot, autism) I love the art, and I love the tidbits. If it ever gets too overwhelming, don't be afraid to take a breather!! ><)

Hello! I shall do my best to answer!

— I’m personally a Dipcifica enjoyer myself! I don’t see them getting together this summer, so it’s less of a dating thing, but Bill would be decent at recognising the signs of a crush forming thanks to Mabel exposure all summer. He’d be completely against it. He’s listing every reason why the Northwests suck to Dipper, all the times Pacifica has done something to make Mabel feel awful! He’s maybe a little dramatic about it, in true Bill fashion, and is taken aback when Mabel insists it’s okay.

Pacifica’s changing, they both say! Mabel fully intends to be Dipper’s wingman!

Bill finds that idea ridiculous. People don’t just change. Humans are known for staying the same once they’ve settled into their body — that’s just how it is.

Pacifica has proven to be the opposite of everything Bill has taught the twins, and so he sees the blooming friendship as a threat and doesn’t like it. It doesn’t help that it’s around the time his fear of changing is at an all time high, so he’s maybe projecting a little onto Pacifica.

He definitely tries to scare her off initially, and when that doesn’t work, he settles with threatening her should she ever make Mabel upset against. His threats are… very intense and it’s clear the issue runs deeper than just Pacifica. He really goes for her insecurities. Honestly, this may be one of his worst moments in front of the twins? Stan ends up having to intervene and try to figure out what’s going on in Bill’s head beyond just being protective over Mabel.

(Pacifica girl I am so sorry)

He doesn’t warm to her per se, not yet, as much as he learns to tolerate her sometimes being around. She does her best to avoid him anyhow.

— Still working out the exact details so I don’t have much to say right now, but yes, he does. A verbal apology from Bill is also kind of a big deal. Like Stan struggles saying Please, and Ford struggles saying thank you, Bill struggles saying sorry.

— Ford does bond with the twins! I think I mentioned in a post a bit ago that Dungeons Dungeons and more Dungeons is like a gateway for their relationship, and it helps Ford become more comfortable around them and vice versa. Though the general unease still lingers at times, Dipper starts to get comfortable asking him more and more questions about Gravity Falls, and Mabel knits him a few sweaters and tries to catch him up on all the pop culture he’s missed etc. Sometimes he snaps at them when he needs space, and he tends to hide behind Stan some days, but they do get to know this new Ford, and begin to get closer to him bit by bit before Summer ends.

I think he does see them as something Bill has tainted, but not in an irreversible way. If anything, it motivates him to try and get to know them more once the initial fear has settled, to try and re-instate himself as Ford Pines, and be their Great Uncle.

— I don’t plan on making a fic or a comic, mainly because I am busy right now and juggling a lot. It just isn’t something feasible for me and I notoriously don’t do well managing long projects. But, I am hoping to do art and maybe mini comics for it, once I defeat my art block and style crisis, perhaps some one-shots too if I can also defeat my eternal writers block. I’m honoured you think that way of it though!!

— They generally have a very positive relationship! Bill is seen as the cooler Stan by her friends, mainly because of the fact he doesn’t really act his age, and happily enables anything they want to do, and so whenever she needs something, she tends to go to him. (“No hard feelings Stan!”) And If Stan taught her how to shoplift, Bill probably taught her how to get away with murder, not that she’d really need that, the thought still counts. They also share similar music tastes, so when Bill’s around the shack, he’ll ask Wendy to blast some AC/DC while they work. He’s also taught her all the ways to get under Stan’s skin, because he knows for a fact she’ll use them.

I think this AU too, he’s the one who showed her the rooftop spot. He encouraged any form of rebelling against the system, even if that means slacking and getting Stan to shout at both of them.

Thank you so much!? That means a lot to hear and I hope you continue to enjoy it!! And I appreciate it, I’m trying to take it slow and answer whatever asks I can and when I can, to avoid getting overwhelmed.

[chimcess]

Waterlog || pjm (5)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Olympic Swimmer!Jimin, Ex Olympic Swimmer! Reader, Swim Coach!Reader Genre: Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU, Coach!AU, Swimming!AU, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, fluff, eventual smut, I'm so soft for these two it's crazy. Word Count: 10.8k+ Synopsis: After a car accident ends her athletic career, Y/N has slowly started rebuilding her life again as a high school swim coach. That’s until she gets a request from an old friend and finds herself back in the spotlight as the new coach of Olympic swimmer, Park Jimin. Warnings: ANGST, crying, mental health issues, talking about mental health, I'm so soft for them it's actually wild, angst, trauma, panic attacks, talks of panic attacks, talks of sex, k*ssing, I love them so much, jimin still the best boyfriend, small argument, insecurities, strong language, one bed trope, healthy relationship conversations, boundary setting, friends being friends, character has cancer, talks of character death (brief), dry humping, moaning, things are picking up A/N: I know I'm late again, but I have a lot of personal stuff going on in my life at the moment that had made writing challenging. First a breakup, then finding a new apartment, moving, and then waiting for my internet to get turned on. It's been hectic for me! But we are back. This was very lightly edited so I apologize in advance for any issues there might be. I will go through and edit this eventually, I just wanted to get it out for you guys!

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The drive to Jimin’s house was quick, the traffic not fully registering in my mind as I lost myself in thought. I had only ever been in love once before, and that had been a very different time in my life. I was no longer that same person, and the anxiety these new feelings were bringing up made me nauseous. I was not ready to say anything was certain, but I knew for a fact that I was falling hard and fast. 

The small suburb was nice with large homes. A few new modern builds stuck out like a sore thumb, but the area had still kept much of its original blue-American-suburban charm. Coming from Colorado, I was not used to seeing large front lawns or children’s toys left out after dark. Jimin was just ahead of me and I slowed down when his tail lights came on. 

The house was definitely brand new. I had never liked modern buildings, the architecture lacking the charm and personality I sought out when buying my own place in the Springs, but it suited the swimmer. It was difficult to make out much color, but I could tell it was mostly white with black accents on the front. Large windows took up a majority of the walls and a small balcony was above the front door. It was smaller than the other homes, but the yard was bigger than the rest, and a tall fence enclosed the back of the property. 

Taking a second to prepare myself for the rest of the night, I watched Jimin get out of Fiona and open up the two door garage at the front. He seemed to be in a rush, casting a few quick glances at my car as he paced back to the truck to pull it inside. I do not think he could see me looking back.

Picking up my phone, I called Hoseok.

“Everything okay?” He picked up, out of breath.

I smiled, “I’m okay. Promise.”

He had been extra worried about tonight. Out of everyone, Hoseok knew how huge this was for me. At one of our many late night parties I had told him that I could never love again, and that I never wanted to know that feeling again. If it wasn’t Namjoon then it could not be anybody. At the time he had reassured me, but as the years went on he had truly believed that I had completely closed off that part of my heart. To be so excited about someone had him cautious- even if he did poke fun at me most of the time.

“Why are you calling me then?” He asked.

“Just needed a bit of a pep talk,” I admitted, eyes still locked on Jimin’s truck. “I’m at his house. Feeling a little nervous.”

He hummed, “He seems like a good guy. Don’t think there’s anything you need to worry about. Just enjoy yourself.”

I sighed, watching the garage door close, knowing I would have to get out of the car soon. “I think I’m going insane.”

“Talk to me about it.”

Jimin stood by the garage door, looking at my car. I rolled the window down and waved, gestured to the phone, and managed a pathetic smile. He nodded, still watching me with a strange look on his face.

“I think I love him,” I mumbled, unable to look away from him.

Hoseok laughed, “You just figured that out? Baby, anyone with eyes and ears can see how you feel about the kid.”

“It’s been two seconds, Hobi. We barely know each other.”

“You don’t have to tell him anything,” My friend reasoned, voice nothing but friendly. “You’re all over the place right now, and you need to really think about how you feel. No one wants to hear someone ‘thinks’ they love them. Breathe. Relax. Enjoy yourself.”

As I steadied my breathing, I noticed Jimin’s face becoming concerned. He always knew when something was wrong, and it did not surprise me when he started walking across the front yard towards my car. 

“I have to go,” I choked out, panic bubbling in my chest with each step he took. “I don’t want him hearing us.”

“Otter-”

I hung up the phone and smoothed down my hair. My heart was running at a million miles an hour and my hands were shaking. I hated how worked up I got over nothing. Disgusted and discouraged, I forced a smile on my face and opened the car door. My phone vibrated, the sensation tickling my hand, but I chose to ignore it. Fake it till you make it, I told myself. The curve of Jimin’s mouth told me I was not fooling anyone.

“Everything okay?” He asked, coming to stand in front of me.

“Yeah,” I breathed, nodding frantically. In my panic, I did not see the curb and tripped. Jimin reached out to help steady me before I could fall. I shuttered. “Everything is fine. Hoseok just called to check in with me. Didn’t realize we were out together.”

The lie felt heavy on my tongue and Jimin’s eyebrows came together in confusion. He knew I was lying and it made the sinking in my gut all the more unbearable. Knowing I needed to get a grip, I stepped out of his arms and gestured to the house.

“Nice place,” I sounded like I had just run a marathon. “It’s very you.”

Jimin was quiet. Still trying to avoid talking about my odd behavior, I began rambling on and on about how much I liked the landscaping. The large bushes that surrounded the small front porch were a nice pop of color for the otherwise neutral paint job.

“Is that a gnome wearing a swimming ring?” I asked, squinting trying to make out the little figure in the darkness. “That’s so cute. Did your mom buy you that? I-”

“Y/N.”

My mouth clamped shut.

“What’s wrong?” Jimin asked, reaching out to caress my shoulder. “You’re not acting like yourself.”

I sighed, finally done hiding my very apparent discomfort. “Just really nervous about how I’m feeling.”

“Tell me about it?”

I looked at him and nodded, “Can we go inside? It’s really cold.”

“Of course, angel.”

The pet name made me short circuit long enough to get inside without saying another word. Were we on that level now? Would it be okay for me to start calling him sweet little names like that? Would he want me to? What would I even call the guy? Nothing seemed good enough. No words could ever be good enough to express everything that he was becoming to me. 

“I can take your coat,” Jimin murmured in my ears, hands already helping me shrug out of the dark wool coat. “Shoes go on that little shelf over there.”

“Thank you,” I absentmindedly replied, still dazed. 

What about babe? No, too conventional. Sweetheart? No, that was Joon’s thing. Honey? We are definitely not beating the old woman allegations with that one. That also rules out darling and sweetie. He’d never let me live that down.

“Feeling a bit better now?” He asked, hand on the small of my back as he led me further into the house. “You’re not shaking anymore.”

I had not realized how off course my thoughts had gotten. I got so swept up in him that everything else just faded away. Pleased, I smiled and nodded.

He chuckled, “Where did your mind go this time, angel girl?”

I giggled, giddy that we were keeping up the terms of endearment. 

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you,” I leaned into his touch, melting in his arms as we walked. He finally wrapped me up completely, pressing me into his side with his hand on my hip. “I like it when you call me that.”

Jimin hummed, “What? Angel?”

I nodded, putting my head on his shoulder. It was a bit awkward but I dealt with the discomfort. I enjoyed being this close to him. Knowing that he seemed just as eager to be here with me was a bonus. 

“What do you think of the place?” He asked.

Blinking, I tried to disguise the fact that I had not been paying attention to a single thing since we walked inside. Letting my eyes wonder, I almost laughed at how accurate Jimin’s description of his house was. 

Standing in his living room, I marveled at how dark everything was. Black leather sofas, a dark gray fluffy rug, a flat screen, and a black iron fireplace were the stand out pieces. There were a few family photos on the mantle and a fake potted plant beside it, but other than that it was completely barren. It was just as sad and depressing as he said it would be, but instead of feeling disappointed it only made me smile. Everything in here was his and now I was included in that. 

“I love it.”

He laughed, squeezing me impossibly closer, “You don’t have to lie. I know it’s the quintessential bachelor pad.”

“I’m not lying,” I argued. “It’s perfect. Very you.”

“Even the dusty, ugly, fake Der Rose Jungkook got me as a housewarming gift?”

“Especially that,” I joked.

“Okay clown,” He laughed, pulling away from my side. “Go sit on the couch and I’ll make us some hot chocolate. Need to warm you up.”

Giving me the remote for the very large television hanging above the fireplace, Jimin promised to be back soon and left me in charge of finding something good to watch. After flicking through a few channels, I ended up settling on 21 Jump Street and ogled at Johnny Depp and Holly Robinson Peete. My dad and I used to watch the show together when I was young, and it brought me back to the few happy times that we had. I really needed to call him.

“Damn that’s a handsome man.”

I jumped, “Jesus you scared me.”

Jimin laughed, setting down two mugs on his coffee table. They were steaming hot and I decided to leave mine to cool off for a few seconds. Taking his seat next to me, Jimin was quick to throw his arm around my shoulders and pull his legs up onto the sofa. 

“Get comfortable,” He said, crossing his legs. “It’s just me.”

“Yeah,” I snorted, curling my legs up next to me and placing my head on his shoulder. “That’s the problem.”

“You’re being extra flirty tonight,” He teased. “I like it.”

I chose to stay quiet and watch the show. This was one of my favorite episodes. Hanson, Hoff, and Loki go undercover to try and solve a string of drive-by shootings between a couple of gangs, and Booker is trying to investigate a dirty cop on the force. I always loved the scenes between Johnny Depp and Holly the most. They were so cute together and the chemistry was crazy even though their characters never ended up together.

Jimin started playing with my hair, his fingers gently caressing my neck before scratching my scalp. It felt amazing and I relaxed even further into his side. After that episode was over, he leaned down and put his head on top of mine. Another episode came on, this was the second part to the previous, and I let my eyes close. This was really nice. And to think I almost let it all go to shit because I could not keep myself from spiraling.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” I mumbled.

“Don’t be,” He whispered back, placing a small kiss on the top of my head. “Never apologize for being upset.”

Taking a deep breath, I thought about what Hoseok had said. There was no reason to tell him anything right now, or at least, the “L” word did not need to come into conversation. Still, it felt wrong to keep him in the dark. Jimin was always willing to listen and I felt awful for lying to him earlier.

“I really like you and sometimes it scares me,” I admitted quietly. “I called Hoseok to see if he had any advice. Sorry I lied about that.”

He shook his head, “I’m not upset with you, angel. Sometimes they scare me, too.”

“Really?” I had never really thought about that before.

“Of course,” He chuckled, moving away to look down at me. I lifted my head in a rare act of bravery. “I don’t think you understand just how amazing you are.”

I smiled lazily, unable to look away from him. He looked so beautiful in this lighting. The tv on one side of his face, the darkness in the rest of the house casting a dark shadow on the rest of it. I noticed his head inching closer, eyes heavily lidded as he watched me, waiting for a reaction. Heart pounding, I did the only thing I could think of. I closed my eyes and tilted my head higher.

“You smell so good,” He murmured, lips brushing mine. “God, you’re so pretty.”

I opened my mouth to respond but was unable to get anything out before his lips were pressed against it. I breathed out through my nose and allowed myself to just enjoy it. His lips were so soft and plump, his upper lip just barely scratching my skin with peach fuzz, and chin ever so gently bumping against mine as we came together. 

My skin was on fire as he invaded every cell in my body until all I could think about was him. His hand gripped the back of my neck and pressed us together roughly, his tongue licking against my bottom lip asking to be let inside. There was nothing he couldn’t ask for now. I mewled embarrassingly when our tongues twisted together. Jimin groaned in response. 

“Is this okay?” He rasped when we pulled apart for air.

I replied by taking his face in my hands and pulling him back in for more. Jimin responded eagerly, gripping my neck tighter and holding me close. I hummed in satisfaction, leaning into his chest. His skin was on fire beneath me and I briefly wondered if his chest got as pink as his cheeks did.

Jimin broke away, dragging my body closer until I was practically laying on his lap, before guiding my mouth back to his. My lips were numb, swollen, and still begging for more. The show was long forgotten, the noise also like static in the background as I suckled on his bottom lip. Jimin whined, fingers twisting into my hair as he held me in place.

“Feeling okay?” He mumbled into my mouth, taking a second to catch his breath.

“Great,” I slurred, before shutting him up again.

I lost track of time as we sat there entangled in one another. Lips hardly able to feel anything anymore, I broke away and tried to calm my racing heart. Jimin took the opportunity to go for my neck, his plush lips delicate against my skin. I shuttered. 

I could feel my panties sticking to my folds, slick gently wetting my thighs as he continued his gentle assault on my neck. He never sucked hard enough to leave marks behind, but after a few moments I could safely say Jimin was a fan of teeth. They scratched my skin softly, tickling me in the process, before his tongue smoothed over any redness that might have popped up. Moaning, I tilted my head back and granted him more access.

“You’re so fucking hot,” He rasped, licking a long stripe up my neck before biting my ear. “So needy.”

I chuckled, the sound breathless. “Do you want to stop?”

“Fuck no.”

I giggled, kissing his cheek, “Such a boy.”

I nodded, kissing the underside of my chin before pecking my lips.

“I’m your boy,” He smiled lazily, kissing me again.

“Yes,” I agreed, unable to stop smiling as I cradled his face between my hands. “My good-looking boy.”

With one final peck on my chin, Jimin leaned back into the sofa and dragged my body down with his. Laying on top of his body, my eyes fixated on the tv. Buffy the Vampire Slayer was playing now, and I grinned. It was one of my favorite shows to watch when I had a bad day. It was nice to have it with me at this moment. A happy memory with my comfort show in the background only sweetened the already tender moment. 

“She should have been with Spike,” Jimin’s chest rumbled underneath me.

Getting more comfortable, I nodded.

“I kind of like that she decided to stay friends with them both. Tara and Willow were the power couple anyway.”

“Not a fan of Oz?” He started playing with my hair.

“I liked them, too, but for different reasons. The only other couple that comes close to Tara and Willow were Giles and Jenny.”

We were quiet as we watched, small kisses shared during commercial breaks, and I never felt the need to try and open my mouth. Nothing needed to be said when our feelings were so apparent. Hoseok, as usual, was right. I just needed time to breathe and think about things before running head first into a love confession. And if he said anyone with eyes and ears could see how I felt, then there was no real reason for me to say anything. Jimin already knows. He always did.

“God, I’ve always loved that DeSoto Fireflite,” I gushed, eyeing Spike's car hungrily. “The ‘59 model is sexy.”

“Why do you know so much about cars?” He asked.

“My dad’s a mechanic,” I explained. “He owns his own restoration shop back in Pennsylvania and I used to go over there all of the time. I almost ditched swimming to take over the body shop when he lost an employee.”

“You never stop amazing me,” He murmured, kissing the top of my head. “Has he found anything cool recently?”

I grew quiet. Truthfully, I had no clue. It had been almost two years since we last spoke, and I doubted he was looking forward to hearing from me. He had a new family. A new life. One that did not have the space for me in it. My silence must have worried Jimin because he asked if I was okay.

“We don’t talk anymore,” I replied. “He got remarried a few years ago and his wife doesn’t like me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, “It’s juvenile, really. He seems happy though, so I don’t push it.”

“They don’t deserve you. You’re too good to be treated like that.”

I laughed, eyes prickling with unshed tears. I did not talk about this often and it felt nice to get it off of my chest. For a long time Victor had been the person I looked to as a father figure, and we still keep in touch. He always calls for holidays and birthdays, checks in randomly, and asks me how I’m doing. He stayed with me through the worst of the damage, and only left Colorado when his daughter decided to move abroad for school. Denver was too expensive to justify the expenses and his new trainee was in Florida. I missed him a lot more than I ever realized.

“I made my own family, though. Couldn’t have picked better.”

Colorado would always be home because that was where pieces of my heart lived. Jin, Andy, and Hoseok were never planning on moving. Minho would be there as long as Tilly was, and she was around for Hoseok. I had a feeling Max would change that, and the two of them may end up starting a new adventure with Minho in tow. A trouple for the ages. That made me grin.

Michigan was starting to feel like my own adventure. New bonds and ties are formed with each passing day. Going back to Colorado helped to put that in perspective. It did not matter if I was there or not, because my family was, and I would always have a place there. Ann Arbor was different.

The person I envisioned myself spending the rest of my life with lived here, his family and friends becoming like my own, and I could never ask him to leave them. When Na-Yeon died someone would need to be around for James and the kids. When Jungkook and Darcy inevitably went their separate ways, he would need a shoulder to cry on. Taehyung and his panic attacks. Milo and his work stresses. All of it meant that someone needed to be around to bring them back to themselves, and I wanted to be a part of that in any way they would allow me.

“I’m really happy that I met you,” I told Jimin, eyes not truly focusing on the show anymore. “Being here with you- I couldn’t ask for more.”

A kiss on my head, “I feel the same way, angel.”

I fell asleep like that. Jimin had to wake me up a little after one in the morning to see if I wanted to sleep at his place. I politely declined since I promised the Andersons that I would be back for breakfast tomorrow and left shortly thereafter. I barely even focused on the ride home, tired and drunk off of the high of the evening. 

Calvin was awake when I walked through the front door. A plate of cookies in front of him, he held up a finger to his lips and pointed upstairs. Violet had been strict about his diet as of late. The last time he had gone to the doctor his cholesterol levels were slightly elevated, and we had been eating very bland, not all that great food ever since. I smiled sleepily, stealing a cookie for myself as payment. We would never speak of this night again.

Finishing up my cookie, I quickly peeled out of my clothes before heading into the bathroom to do my skincare routine. Exhausted, I was barely aware of the text I sent to Jimin before I climbed into bed. I was asleep before my head ever hit the pillow.

“You’re still not hitting your best time,” I spoke into my headset, looking at the stop watch in my hand. “We’re only at 90%. I want 92%.”

Jimin groaned, frustrated and tired. We had been at this all morning and he was not making as much progress as I hoped he would. I had prepared an 200s anaerobic training set so we could work on his endurance. For the last few weeks we were focused on speed and mastering his butterflies and turns. Now that we were feeling more comfortable training together I was moving onto those issues I had at the beginning. So far it was not going over well.

“This is bullshit,” He huffed, pulling his goggles up. “I’ve been at this for hours and haven’t done anything.”

I shook my head and fought to keep myself neutral. Training had become a bit challenging to work around given our new relationship status, but we both agreed to keep that out of our sessions. We had another date next Friday. He was refusing to tell me where we were going, the only hint being we would be going to Jungkook’s game, but the rest was a mystery. 

“You’re getting better,” I replied, holding the microphone closer to my mouth. I had woken up with a sore throat and could not speak loud enough on my own, so we were finally using my old earpiece to communicate. “You went from 88% to 90%. I think with some more drills we can get up a bit more.”

He went to put his goggles back on, but I told him to stop.

“We’re done for the day,” I said, rubbing my raw throat. “You’re getting angry and I’m losing my voice.”

He stared at me, glowering childishly, and crossed his arms across his chest. Lifting my head a little higher, I looked at him with an eyebrow raised. It was a challenge, one we both knew meant I was losing my patience. Normally he would back down at this point, tucking his tail between his legs, and going to the back to get changed. Today, it would seem, was not a normal day.

“No we’re not,” He said through gritted teeth, eyes narrowed. “I’m not where I want to be.”

“Yes. We. Are,” I made a show of emphasizing every word, tossing my clipboard onto the duffle at my feet. “Something is bothering you. If you don’t want to talk to me about it, that’s fine, but you’ve been acting like a brat all morning.” I ripped my whistle off my neck, bent down, and shoved both it and the stopwatch into the pocket of the duffle bag. Jimin was still pouting in the center of the pool. “I’m not arguing with you. I’m sick and you’re angry. Just go get dressed.”

My throat burned. I talked too much and had not given the sore skin time to rest. Rubbing my forehead, I breathed through my nose in an attempt to cool off. His attitude was really starting to piss me off.

Angry, Jimin made his way out of the pool far louder than necessary. I sighed when the locker room door slammed behind him. I got us off on the wrong foot this morning by being snippy and curt with my answers. His foul mood only made it worse. As training went on I had gotten back into the groove, my annoyance over being ill forgotten, but my bad behavior had obviously bothered him enough to keep him frustrated with me for the rest of the morning. It did not help that I never apologized. 

I took more time packing up my things today hoping that I could “bump into” Jimin before leaving. I tried to think of the right way to word my own frustrations without undermining what happened between us. I hurt his feelings, and I needed to take ownership of that. 

“Sorry for acting like an ass.”

I shouted, shocked, and nearly slipped on the wet floor. Rebalancing on the balls of my feet, I looked over to see Jimin standing at the locker room door. He was still wearing his cap but threw on a pair of shorts. 

“I thought you were taking a shower,” I rasped, all of the fire from earlier gone. 

“Me too,” He ran a hand over his face and leaned against the closed door. “Just felt wrong letting you leave like that.”

I nodded, swallowing thickly. My saliva irritated my throat more and I winced in pain. I really needed something to help with the pain. 

“It’s not just you,” I finally said, my voice cracking. “I acted like an asshole this morning and you had every right to be upset. I’m sorry I didn’t apologize, either.”

“Doesn’t mean I should have gotten all pissy,” He sighed, looking more relaxed now than he had all day. “I’ve always had a bad temper, but that’s not an excuse to talk to you like that. It wasn’t even that big of a deal.”

He was doing that thing again, the thing where he downplayed his own hurt feelings and redirected blame onto himself. Not wanting his mind to go down that rabbit hole, I walked over to him. I rarely went to this side of the room. I usually used the employee shower in the back since I felt less exposed, but Jimin never felt ashamed of his nakedness. The only reason he started putting shorts on is because he noticed how awkward I became.

“It’s okay to be mad at me,” I soothed, reaching out to take hold of his hand. “We both acted a little childishly. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Nodding, he leaned forward to rest his head on my shoulder. 

“I just feel bad,” He whispered into my skin. “You’re not feeling well and here I am making it worse. I’m such a dick sometimes.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding him close. Despite our second date being postponed due to training and the charity event this weekend, the physical affection we showed one another only ramped up. Kissing was Jimin’s new favorite thing, and I hoped we could take it a step further this weekend. Even if he was cool with taking things slow I had come to find out that I was not. Maybe after a nice conversation we could fool around a little more.

“So am I,” My voice was almost gone. “Now, can we stop arguing and get breakfast? A hot chocolate is the only thing that’s going to make me feel better.”

He chuckled, lifting his head to look at me. He was no longer angry, eyes dancing, and I felt a surge of energy run through me. Sick or not, I would do just about anything to keep him smiling. Even if it meant doing the hardest thing imaginable: apologizing. Stepping out of my embrace, Jimin took hold of my hand and walked us back to my duffle bag. He always insisted on carrying it.

“I think a hot tea would be much better for a sore throat,” He mused, “But if it’s cocoa you want, well, who am I to stop you?”

Rolling my eyes, I leaned into his side, “Who’s paying?”

“Me,” He scoffed. “Obviously. Denny’s is way cheaper than putting gas in my truck.”

That made me laugh loudly, the pain in my throat forgotten. We had a rule between the two of us. If you didn’t buy breakfast then you were buying gas for the day. Jimin had taken extra time coming to scoop me up this morning since I woke up sick and refused to stay in bed. After a lengthy conversation about money, we both agreed that he could pay for all of our dates if I could split up other costs with him. While not happy about it, he conceded.

“And they say chivalry is dead,” I teased, rolling my eyes.

The gym was filled, always packed just before and after lunch time. The lull of the afternoon would carry over until around 6 and we had a decent sized group until closing. When Giselle opened up at 5:30 the following morning, the same group of guys were always the first ones in the door. I had spoken to them a handful of times and helped spot one of them once or twice, but that was the most of my interactions with anyone that exercised here. None of us really wanted to be bothered, and kept mostly to ourselves.

Giselle and Sam were chatting at the host stand when we walked by. Jimin was always nice enough to greet his staff, but never stuck around for too long. They were all friendly, and he was very good friends with Yoongi and Megan, but he was too focused on keeping up with his daily schedule to hang out. Despite being late to everything, Jimin was an extremely organized person and hated it when his plans were disrupted. 

“Where are you two headed?” The young woman asked, a genuine smile on her face as she glanced down at our hands. 

“Breakfast,” I answered. Giselle was easily my favorite person here, her only competition being Megan or Yoongi, and I always tried to make time for her when she was available. “Do you need something?”

She shook her head, “Not right now, but would you be okay with bringing in a case of the blue Monsters tomorrow? We just ran out and Yoongi is feeling it hard.”

I laughed and agreed. Yoongi was the resident caffeine addict on staff and would go through pot after pot of coffee during his shift. After Drew, the general manager, told him he was using too many of the Keurig cups, he had moved onto energy drinks. The Lo-Carb Monsters were his favorite, and I was not surprised to hear he was out. He bought a four pack every other day.

“I’ll DoorDash a few packs to the building right now. I owe him anyway.”

“Are you ordering from Busch’s?” Sam asked. 

I nodded, “Probably. I know they’ll have them. What’s up?”

“Can you throw in a couple of sushi rolls?” He asked, and my phone vibrated in the side pocket of my leggings. “I sent you $20. I totally forgot to pack my lunch and I’m swamped with sessions today.”

“Sure man. Spicy crab rolls?”

“You’re an angel,” Sam sighed. “Make sure you get plenty of rest. You sound like shit.”

“Thanks,” I replied sarcastically, rolling my eyes. “See you tomorrow. I think Park will be riding solo tonight.”

Jimin chuckled, “I’m planning on skipping the gym tonight, too.”

We walked out of the building, hands swinging between us. The feeling was so familiar and yet so foreign. I had not dated since Joon’s passing and was severely out of practice, but Jimin made it feel easy. 

“You? Skipping leg day? Scandalous.”

Jimin laughed, sounding like sunshine. “And let my girl sit at home sick by herself?”

That shut me up. After learning I was a sucker for pet names, Jimin had gotten into the habit of using them to get his way. Feeling my face heating up, I forced a laugh as I let go of his hand and rounded the truck. My girl. It made me feel both terrified and comforted at the same time.

My girl…Angel…Angel Girl… I couldn’t pick a favorite.

“Do you mind if I come over?” Jimin sounded less confident now. 

I had barely noticed him starting the truck. Must have zoned out again. 

“I don’t have much to do,” I admitted. “My place is pretty boring.”

“You’re there,” He shrugged. “And you have a tv. I’m sure we can think of something.”

“Okay,” I hid my smile behind my hand and started to look out of the window.

Saline was very beautiful. At this time of year, many of the trees were barren but I knew they would look gorgeous in the summer. I frowned. I was set to be back in Colorado by then if I could not make up my mind about the move.

“Don’t get quiet on me, gran-gran,” I snorted. “You don’t blink when you zone out and it’s creepy.”

“I so do,” I laughed, turning to look at the pretty boy. “You are such a liar.”

That did nothing but make him laugh. “Might want to order those drinks, by the way.”

I thanked him for the reminder and quickly made a small shopping cart. I threw in a few extras. Coconut creamer for Skye, a new box of Hot Pockets for Drew and Dominic, and a large box of cookies and chips for the rest of the staff. Before I could check out, a page popped up of previous things I had ordered before and I quickly added one of those expensive bags of cookies. Those were Megan’s favorite and she had bought me two coffees this week. 

“Do you want anything?” I asked Jimin.

“Maybe some seaweed chips?” We were turning into the Denny’s parking lot. “Thanks, angel.”

I added in a few other items. Band-aids because I knew we were running low, more tea bags, the coffee pods Yoongi liked, and a few different packets of the candy for Giselle. She had such a sweet tooth it was a miracle she only had one cavity. It took me a bit longer to find Jimin’s favorite brand of seaweed chips, and I decided to toss in a few different flavors of the spicy ramen he loves to eat as well. Finally happy with my order, I checked out and messaged Sam that I secured his lunch. He sent me the sunglasses emoji as a reply.

“Earth to Y/N.”

I jumped, blinking rapidly, and saw a thoroughly amused Jimin staring at me. We were parked, the truck was off, and his hand was already on the handle. We both laughed but did not say anything else. If Jimin could be late all of the time then I could space out whenever I wanted.

“I’m so ready for these blueberry pancakes,” Jimin threw his arm around my shoulders as we walked. “What are you getting?”

I shrugged, “Hot cocoa and an omelet, probably.”

“An omlet does sound really good,” He mumbled to himself, holding open the door for me.

“That’s why I’m getting one,” I mumbled, pausing at the door to kiss him. “I’m thinking  ham and cheese.”

Jimin smiled, caught off guard by the gesture, “Shit, if omelets get me one of those then I’ll eat eggs for the rest of my life.”

I laughed, the sound echoing in the small entrance area. This Denny’s was always busy but I could see a few empty booths in the back. Perfect.

“You think I’m playing,” He continued, wrapping an arm around my waist as he grabbed a hold of the second door. “Breakfast, lunch, and dinner if I had to.”

I rolled my eyes, “You don’t need to live off eggs to get kisses, you big baby.”

“No,” He chuckled, swooping down and stealing a kiss of his own. “But it sounded really cool.”

The hostess smiled at our little exchange and I fixed her with a deadpan stare.

“Typical.”

She laughed, “Right this way.”

Hobi: Are you excited about the charity event?

Me: Park’s going to kill it

Hobi: Nervous about getting seen?

Me: Not at all. I doubt anyone there will recognize me anyway.

Closing the trunk of my car, I sighed. We were on our way to the charity meet, and Jimin was running a few minutes behind. Fiona needed to go to a shop soon and Jimin was driving her like she was going to explode any second. It was frustrating as I hated being late, but it was impossible to be angry with him. We had planned on leaving the day before the meet and getting a hotel room so we could both be as well rested as possible. 

To say I was nervous about sharing a room for the night was an understatement. Jimin had gotten a suite with two beds so I would feel more comfortable (his words, not mine), but the added security of separation did little to calm my racing thoughts. I was not planning on having sex this weekend, Jimin needed to keep his energy for the meet, but I would be lying if I said the thought had not crossed my mind more than once.

“Are you okay?”

Snapping out of my trance, I turned to find the man of the hour stood next to me. There was a large duffle bag around his shoulders, and his oversized hoodie only made him look even smaller. Smiling, he kissed my cheek in greeting. 

“Fine,” I breathed, smiling back. “Almost ready?”

Jimin nodded, “Just need to put this bag in the back. You didn’t forget any of your meds, right?”

He had been spending most of his time at my house recently and was well acquainted with my large pill collection. At first he had been concerned as to why I turned down taking medication for my illness back on Monday, but stopped questioning it so much when I told him about the other four pills I take daily. I always avoided taking extra stuff if I could.

“They’re in my suitcase.”

We were going to be in Allendale until Sunday. The meet was on Saturday, and while it was only a little over 2 hours away, I was positive Jimin was going to be exhausted after we were finished. This was an event super close to his heart and he had told me how nervous he felt about attending. Spending two nights seemed like a simple solution to deal with both of our anxieties, and even more so when I brought up my fears of being recognized and harassed. Jimin turned red with anger when I told him about my previous experiences with the news and promised he would never let that happen to me again. 

“I guess we should stop by my mom’s house on the way out,” He mused. “I know she wanted to come but she’s been really sick.”

Na-Yeon’s avoidance of treatment was finally beginning to take its toll on her physical health. I had hardly seen her at all since I came back from Colorado, and from what Jimin tells me she’s done nothing but throw up and sleep. James had told me that she was trying to stay alive long enough to see Jimin win an Olympic medal, but he wasn’t sure if that was going to be possible. I was hoping to speak with her myself and see if there was any way I could convince her to start her chemo back up again. It was killing Jimin to see his mother this way.

“I was thinking,” I handed my keys over to Jimin. “Maybe your mom and I could have a little girl’s day when we get back.”

“Why?” He chuckled, 

I shrugged. Trying to come off as nonchalant was better than honesty. I was not sure how Jimin would take my intrusion, but I still wanted to try it anyway. I loved Na-Yeon, and hoped that I could talk her out of her decision. There had been a time when I would have let myself die, too, but I was fortunate enough to have Andy fighting for me. I probably would have never walked again had it not been for her and Hoseok.

“Just want to be closer to her,” It was not a lie. I was dating her son and I wanted us to be like mother and daughter the same way I had been with Namjoon’s family. “She’s been looking a little down lately. Maybe getting out of the house a little might cheer her up.”

Jimin grinned at me, his expression soft. Leaning forward, he kissed my forehead. My chest warmed. He was always touching me as though I was made of glass.

“Have I ever told you how amazing you are?” He asked.

“Once or twice,” I replied, a giggling bubbling up my throat. “We should get going. Traffic is going to start piling up soon.”

Piling into the car, I relaxed into the passenger seat and took a hold of Jimin’s hand. He chuckled, pulled away to put the car into drive, and placed his hand on my thigh. I could feel a light layer of sweat on his palms. I put my hand on top of his.

“Are you sure you’re okay driving?” I asked him, tightening my grip.

“Yeah, angel,” He replied, smiling over at me. “I’m good. I like driving.”

“Still,” I argued, “You’re going to be swimming all day tomorrow. I feel bad making you drive, too.”

“Don’t,” He lifted my hand and kissed the back of it. His eyes never left the road. “I’m happy you’re here with me. All that other shit is just details.”

That shut me up. We drove in silence for the few minutes that it took to get to his parent’s house. I decided to stay in the car while he went to say goodbye. Jimin deserved some alone time with his folks, and I had sent a text to his mother this morning promising to send her a video of him swimming. All she cared about was making sure she could have a phone call with him when everything was over with. Na-Yeon missed watching him swim more than anything and it broke her heart that she was too ill to come with us today.

James waved at me from the front door and I returned the gesture with a huge smile. He had been so excited to see me after finding out about Jimin and I. James was extremely supportive and had already started to call me his daughter. I had yet to return the favor, but secretly loved it. Jimin would get so embarrassed, he’d turn red and scold his dad in Korean. Na-Yeon would watch them silently, but send me a smile and a wink when she thought no one was looking. Wedding bells were already sounding off in their heads.

I thought it would bother me more than it did. Instead, I felt calmed by their excitement. I had been really worried about the age gap between the two of us, but having our family and friends be so accepting had taken that weight off of my shoulders. 

Ne-Yeon’s little head poked out from behind her husband’s shoulder. She looked worn and had bags under her eyes, but her smile was just as big and beautiful as it always had been. Touched that she had thought to come and greet me, I got out of the car.

“What are you doing out of bed?” I teased, wrapping my arms around the frail woman.

She returned my hug with full force. It was concerning that her squeezes felt feather light. I hoped she was eating enough.

“Bodybuilding,” She joked, her voice lacking the usual spunk it carried. When I went to let go, she held me tighter. “Take care of him.”

I nodded, “I will.”

Jimin and I left a few minutes later. Na-Yeon was hanging off of him for as long as she could, her little arm wrapped around his waist as the four of us stood in their doorway. James and I never made physical contact, but Jimin always swore his dad preferred me to him. The older man was always smiling at me, his eyes sparkling brightly, and his mouth moving so quickly at times it was difficult to understand what he was saying. Today was one of those days and I struggled to pay attention to anything else.

“Dad,” Jimin interrupted Jame’s latest fishing story. “We have to go.”

James deflated.

“When you come back?” He asked me. 

“Sunday,” I replied. “We should be back for dinner.”

He smiled again, “I make daegusal-jorim for you. It’s spicy.”

I grinned. If I remember right, that was some sort of cod dish. James was always making some type of seafood since he was fishing constantly. Na-Yeon often complained about never eating any other meat. Jimin and I were always happy to indulge ourselves in his father’s cooking.

“I’m cooking,” Ne-Yeon said.

I looked at her, “Really?”

The last time I had eaten her food was Jimin’s birthday back in October. She made a huge pot of kimchi stew since it was her son’s favorite, and I remembered it being delicious. Sometimes Jimin would talk about all of his favorite foods he grew up eating, and 9 times out of 10 it would be something his mother had made him. Apparently, according to Jimin, his father could only cook fish. Na-Yeon, however, could make magic out of nothing. 

“Yes,” She insisted. “Need to celebrate my baby.”

Jimin flushed, his mother’s fingers pinching at his fat cheeks. “Mom.”

“I’ll try to get us back early enough to help you out,” I offered, checking my watch. “We really do need to go, though. Trying to beat the traffic.”

With a few hugs and a couple of kisses on the cheek, Jimin and I left. I had finally grown used to Jimin playing the radio while he drove, and I enjoyed watching him as he sang along. Catching my eye, Jimin grinned widely and serenaded me. He had a pretty voice, soft and sweet, and I felt my heart jump into my throat.

It was shocking just how comfortable I was in this car with him. Instead of staring out the window, watching the roads like a hawk, I was laughing and enjoying his presence. With the radio blasting, I opened my mouth and sang back. Jimin’s eyes widening, his voice growing more confident as he took my hand in his.

“With a taste of your lips I’m on a ride,” He giggled, squeezing my fingers.

“You're toxic,” I wiggled my eyebrows. “I’m slippin’ under.”

“With a taste of a poison paradise,” I leaned over and kissed his shoulder. “I’m addicted to you. Don’t you know that you’re toxic?”

Satisfied with myself, I leaned back in my seat and watched him sing. My actions only emboldened his own, and soon Jimin was singing his heart out in the driver's seat. His hand on my thigh moved closer and closer to my core only to slide back down when he realized what he was doing. Each time I laughed it off, but inside I was yearning for him to do more. Not in the car, I might have a real panic attack then, but possibly when we were in the safety of our hotel room.

The drive was quicker than normal. We had beaten the traffic by an hour and our impromptu karaoke session in the car made the time fly. The sun was just beginning to set as we pulled up at the hotel and Jimin was practically skipping inside. Making him happy was something I took great pride in, and my little performance in the car had made him radiant.

My chest puffed out when I caught the front desk receptionist eyed him hungrily. Her pretty eyes were unable to stop staring at the beautiful boy beside me. Hand in hand, we took our key card and made our way to the elevator.

When the doors shut, Jimin pulled me into his arms. I sighed in relief. He smelled so good, his chest warm and hard, and I could smell the faint hint of his after shave. It didn’t matter if we won or lost this event. Nothing was going to destroy the high I was on.

“I’m nervous,” Jimin mumbled, letting me go when the elevator dinged. “I know a few of the guys I’ll be swimming with tomorrow. They’re all really good.”

I nodded, “You’re better.”

“How do you know that?” I had never heard him sound so unsure of himself before. “I haven’t been competing like I normally do this season.”

“Because you’re Jimin Park,” I replied easily, the confidence in my tone unmistakable. “And I’m Y/N Y/L/N. We’ve both put in a lot of work and time into this, and you’re going to be great.”

“But-”

I shushed him. Taking the keycard from his hand, I swiped the card through the reader and opened the door. Behind me, Jimin breathed through his nose. It was a loud, defeated sound. Stepping into the room, I gestured for Jimin to walk inside and closed the door behind us.

It was a standard hotel room. A large queen sized bed was in the middle, a small love seat beside it, and a mini fridge beside the large flat screen hanging on the wall. The air was stale, like no one had been in here in a while, and I could faintly see fading stains on some kind in the dark carpet. I bit my lip. Maybe I should have gotten the nicer place Taehyung had suggested.

“5 Stars?” Jimin dead-panned, the little smirk on his face telling me he was joking.

I sauntered closer to him, hands resting on his chest, “Of course. Only the best for an Olympian.”

He sighed, wrapping his arms around my waist, “Thank you angel.”

Still feeling high off of his presence, I kissed his cheek.

“I was talking about me.”

“Yeah?” He mumbled, lips brushing my own. “You think you’re funny?”

I nodded, dazed, “Hilarious.”

“Ass,” He breathed, before finally kissing me properly. “Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?” Another kiss. Then another. Then another. “It’s distracting.”

“What should we do about that?” I choked out, chasing after his retreating face. “Where are you going?”

He giggled cheekily, eyes glittering mischievously. 

“We need to eat, don’t we?”

I rolled my eyes and huffed, grabbing the back of his neck with my hand. “Fuck the food.”

He pulled away again, his face far more serious now. All of the playful lust flowing through my vein was stopped dead in its tracks leaving a chill in its wake. Fearful I had been too forward, I immediately took a step back and shied away from him like I had been burned. Jimin noticed this and shook his head, reaching out to grab my hand. I let him.

“I want to,” He told me. “I’m just not ready for that yet, and I think you deserve better than some nasty motel in Allendale.”

I nodded, my understanding of his fears doing little to dull the sting of his rejection. I knew it was not a real rejection, he had just asked for more time, but my heart ached with the memory of him moving away from me. It made me feel disgusted. Still, I forced a smile onto my face and nodded. I hoped he could tell I was okay with his request. It was only the hurt feelings that made me want to run away and hide.

“I get it,” Even I could hear the sickeningly-sweet edge my voice had taken on and hated it. I was so bad at this shit. “We can take our time. Whatever you want.”

Jimin frowned but chose not to say anything. Pulling back from him, I wandered to the tv and picked up the remote. A home renovation show was on and I knew I would not be paying enough attention to the tv to care how awful the acting was. 

“What’s for lunch?” I asked absentmindedly, trying to come across more relaxed than I felt. “I saw a pizza place on the way in if you’re feeling it.”

Silence.

“Maybe something less greasy,” I mused, already feeling myself growing panicked. “Milo said there’s a really good Italian place not too far from here-”

“Baby.”

I stopped talking and looked at the pretty boy standing across the room. He looked so sad and it broke my heart. I hated it when he didn't smile. I hated it even more when it was my fault.

“Talk to me,” He urged, coming to stand beside me. He made no moves to touch me for which I was grateful. “I know you’re upset about something.”

I shrugged, “I take rejection about as well as anybody else, and I don’t want you to feel bad about it so I’m moving on. I know we’re both hungry so I’m trying to figure out food. I’m sorry if I’m being weird again.”

He nodded, smiling sadly. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.”

I reached out to hug him. Jimin was happy to take me into his arms. I loved how safe and secure I felt in his presence. I was slightly taller than he was, my body made for swimming, but he never seemed to mind. Leaning down, I tucked my head underneath his chin and closed my eyes. Breathe, I told myself.

“You didn’t mean to,” I replied. “I’m sorry if I made you feel pressured or rushed into anything.”

He chuckled, “I want to have sex with you. Just not right now. Not tonight.”

I closed my eyes, “Later?”

That made him laugh. I grinned in response. My foul mood left with a kiss to the top of my head. We were fine. There was no reason to get insecure. We were fine. Jimin liked me. I liked him. That’s all that matters.

I adjusted myself and leaned my head on his. Jimin buried his face into my neck and left a few gentle kisses on the sensitive skin. I whined in response, curling into him. Jimin groaned, the sound strained. I felt it in my core.

“Definitely,” He rasped, giving my neck another kiss. “We need to stop before I change my mind.”

I giggled, pulling away from him. If he wanted space and time then I would give that to him, even if it meant making the both of us a little uncomfortable for the next two days. With the awkward moment behind us, we started planning out dinner and I was confident in our chances at winning tomorrow. Even though it was a charity event, we were both excited about the donation money going to the hospital where his mother received treatment. Jimin especially.

After our late lunch (we decided on pizza), we came back to the hotel. I was adamant that Jimin take the day off from swimming to preserve his energy for tomorrow. His old coach (asshole) had always forced him to swim at every possible moment, and would become angry and condescending when Jimin asked for time off. I swore the next time I saw Hamilton I’d give him a piece of my mind, but knew that I would ultimately leave him be. The guy was a slimeball and didn’t deserve my time and energy.

Crawling into bed that night, we talked for a few hours while a crime tv show played. Jimin enjoyed pillowtalk and I just enjoyed his company too much to tell him to stop talking. Once it was around ten, his eyes closed in the middle of a sentence and light snores followed soon after. That was another thing he was good at- falling asleep wherever and whenever.

I got out of bed a few minutes later, my mind too busy to go to sleep. As quietly as I could, I walked out of the hotel room. Jimin did not move an inch. 

Hoseok picked up after the third ring.

“Do you know what time it is?” He answered, fake anger in his voice.

“Yeah, 10,” I rolled my eyes. “Way before your bedtime. Are you free?”

Hoseok hummed, “Yeah. What’s up?”

I groaned, embarrassment creeping up my spine. I would have preferred to talk to Andy about this, but I knew she was working tonight and would not be free. Tilly was an absolute no go, and I did not feel comfortable enough with anybody in Saline to call them this late to talk about my dry sex life. They were all Jimin’s friends first anyway.

“Jimin says he’s not ready for sex and I’m trying not to overthink it. I need your advice, oh wise one.”

Hoseok laughed, “Dude, I can’t help you. My girl is the same way.”

Shocked, I tried to remember if I had ever heard about this mystery girl before. Then, it hit me. Andy had mentioned something about a blonde girl. She must be serious for Hoseok to casually bring her up in conversation. I wonder how long he’d been hiding her from the rest of us.

“Your girl, huh? And who might that be?”

Hoseok sighed, “I know it sounds crazy, but she’s a swimmer.”

Racking my brain, I tried to think of every blonde swimmer I knew of. MacKenzie Boyd was way too young, Rhonda Yara lived in Florida most of the year, and Brittney Powell was just not Hoseok’s type. That left Opal Simmons and Tove Alfson. They both lived in Colorado, both were fantastic swimmers, and both seemed like nice girls. Opal was the older of the two, so I was more inclined to believe that was who he was talking about, but this was all under the assumption that the girl was a professional swimmer.

“Do you remember Opal Simmons?”

I snorted. So I was right. Feeling good about myself, I nodded and told him that I did. She was pretty, but I remembered thinking she was unremarkable. She had been doing extremely well this season and swimming more than she ever had before. I had a good feeling about her run at this year’s Olympics. She had always swam in teams and this was her first time doing a solo season.

“How’d you meet her?” I asked, leaning against the metal railing across from the door.

“I went to go see Ozzie and she stopped by to talk to him for a few minutes. She took one look at me, smiled, and gave me her number. And you know I’m a sucker for a confident woman.”

“So you took her to the most expensive bar in Colorado Springs?” I joked.

Hoseok spluttered, “How’d you know about that?”

“Well international super spy,” I teased, “You blew your cover. Jin saw you and told Andy. Andy told me. I didn’t tell anybody.”

The swimmer groaned and I could not help but laugh at his expense. We were always like this. Teasing and joking around with one another. A few tender moments sprinkled in between. I remembered when people thought we were a couple simply because we were friends of the opposite sex, but I had never felt anything but sisterly love for the guy. We were always there for each other through thick and thin, and right now I was grateful for his crude sense of humor. Hoseok rarely took things seriously and I needed a bit of fun. It made my anxiety feel less scary.

“We had fun,” He defended. “She’s fucking awesome, man. You’re really going to like her. Next time you’re in town, bring your boy so we can go on a double date.”

“Will do.”

We had a momentary pause. That meant Hoseok was thinking. He tried to choose his words carefully when he was being serious, so I knew that meant we were going to actually start talking about the reason I called. He was far more easy going than I was, so I was sure Opal’s timidness did not bother him at all. I was the spaz of the group only being outdone by Andrea.

“Did he say why?” Hoseok finally asked.

I told him about what had happened this afternoon and the small moments before. The way he always stopped things before they could get any further. How kissing him sometimes felt like he was saying goodbye. How genuinely upset he was by my reaction to his constant pausing. Hoseok listened to everything before saying another word.

“Maybe he’s had something happen to him in the past,” Hoseok brought up. That was something I had not really considered before. “He just sounds a little scared and nervous. Not unwilling, just hesitant. You should talk to him about it. I mean really talk to him. That’s what I did with Opal and it made going at her pace seem less daunting.”

“So you don’t think I’m doing anything wrong?” I finally asked, voicing my fears from earlier. I could not tell Jimin that’s what I was afraid of, it felt too childish, but Hoseok was used to my ever present anxieties. “I really didn’t mean to invalidate him.”

Hoseok chuckled, “I think you’re doing just fine, babe. You just need to learn how to relax and let shit happen. He likes you. He told you he wants to have sex with you directly. Don’t let yourself ruin this, okay?”

I nodded, feeling a frog forming in my throat. It felt wrong to cry right now, but it was the most therapeutic way to handle how frustrated I was with myself. I was too old to act like this. Too strong and independent. This really should not hurt me the way that it does, and yet I could feel myself closing off again.

The door behind me opened and I startled, almost dropping my phone. Whipping around I saw Jimin standing there, no shirt and a pair of sweatpants hanging loosely around his hips. Dark hair a wild mess, he rubbed his eyes and tried his best to look more awake than he felt. My heart melted, some of the stress I felt moments before lessening. He was here. We were fine. I was just being overdramatic. I just needed to breathe.

“I have to get some sleep,” I told Hoseok, eyes never leaving Jimin’s body. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Talk to you then,” I hung up.

Jimin’s eyes searched my face and I could feel a few escaped tears on my cheeks. I felt small under his watchful gaze, but the gentleness in his eyes never wavered. I stood there stupidly, unable to move.

“Come back to bed,” His voice was soft. “I miss you.”

And because he made me behave like a good little lap dog, I crawled into that bed without protest. Pulling me into his arms, Jimin held me close and tight. I relaxed and let his body heat warm me up. I had not realized how cold I had gotten and shivered. Jimin kissed my nose and got comfortable.

“Don’t leave me,” He rasped, already falling back asleep. “Please?”

I almost cried again. He sounded so lost and defeated. Maybe Hoseok was right. Maybe something happened to him that made sex feel terrifying. What it could be I had no idea, but I hoped that with time he could help me understand. As desperately I wanted him to know me- I wanted to know him.

“I promise I won’t,” I whispered, kissing his chest.

His arms squeezed me gently before there was nothing but snores and the sound of the A/C in the room.

Taglist: @ownthesunshine @screamertannie @lovelytaes-blog @pernesianparapio @tae-with-some-suga @sumzysworld @chimmisbae

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[shutupineedtothink]

[Theory] Agatha All Along title meaning + character arc for Agatha

Back on the theory train — here’s another thing that’s bugging me. Why is the show called Agatha All Along, besides the cute allusion to the song. I know for a fact Jac Schaeffer is too clever and too good of a writer to not make it mean something more.

I’m feeling like it must tie into Agatha’s character arc for the show, so let me take you on a little hypothetical journey here.

Spoilers below the cut!

Now that I’ve rewatched those last few episodes of WandaVision, I can’t get Agatha’s flashback out of my head. Particularly her saying, practically pleading, “I can be good” and her mother replying “no, you cannot.” Like holy shit. That’s a condemnation if I ever heard one. A different kind of curse passed down by a different kind of mother.

I’m starting to wonder… what if Agatha was always this powerful, even without the Darkhold. What if she was so innately powerful, her own mother and her entire coven was afraid of her? Maybe they even suspected her of being the Scarlet Witch, and therefore capable of ending the world itself? And because she was so powerful, and every other witch around her didn’t even want to touch her much less teach her, what if she went looking for resources herself? And whether that was the actual Darkhold or something else “above her station” (… I’m not convinced she had the Darkhold yet at the time of this WV flashback scene) that only served as the indictment the other witches needed to finally attack her?

Basically where I’m going with this is… what if Agatha was raised to believe she was bad? If she was always told she was basically evil incarnate, always feared for her power, too powerful for her own good, too powerful to be good, to anyone… her own coven, her sisters, and her mother were afraid of her and shunned her… what would that core belief do to her?

Let’s also assume her coven were the first (maybe only) people she intentionally killed (and even then, in self defense). The way she looks when she takes the amulet from her mother’s body — she’s angry, but how much of that anger is directed at herself? How much of her thought, well, look, they were right. I am bad. I am evil. And there’s no turning back now. And I hate myself for it.

Except maybe, she tries. She’s constantly trying to escape this fate, this identity that was forced on her. She never joins another coven in the centuries after, not only because no one wants her and she has serious trust issues but because she doesn’t want to hurt them, intentionally or not. She doesn’t need their power, she’s already more powerful than just about any other witch. So she studies. She learns the craft. She controls her power. And she leans into the persona of Agatha the powerful evil witch, because why not? That’s what they all think of her anyway. Let her control the narrative then. She wears her reputation like armor, so that no one can betray her ever again. As Rio says, “you’re vulnerable.” And she replies, “only physically.”

Then at some point, the unthinkable happens. She meets Rio, falls in love with her, figures out who she is (not necessarily in that order) and maybe she thinks, what kind of person falls in love with death? Surely that must be even more confirmation that she’s horrible (despite the fact that Rio is not horrible, not really, and certainly not to her). But she tries not to care, and mostly she doesn’t because she’s in love.

And then she has Nicky, however that happens, and she’s absolutely terrified but he is hers, and she loves him like she never loved anyone before. And she’s determined — he will be powerful but he will never think he’s anything less than because of it. He is finally, finally something good that came from her.

And then he too, is ripped away from her, by her own lover Death, and however it happened (even though it definitely wasn’t intentional on her part), she knows it’s her fault. Because she is evil, she is horrible, and this is her fate. She is betrayed by the people she loves, and she is left behind.

But still! She can’t give him up. She can’t stop trying. And she feels the absolutely insane surge of power in Westview and inserts herself into the Scarlet Witch’s hex, when no other witch would even dare get close, because maybe with enough power, with Wanda’s power, she can remake Nicky. (“And you wanted him back.”) She can create somewhere he’ll be safe and everyone else will be safe, and she won’t cause any more damage, to anyone. Death will never find them. She can raise her son in peace. She never wanted Wanda’s power just for power’s sake, she wanted what Wanda created, but better. Her version.

And then that too, was gone. And once again, she was painted the villain.

And now? Now it seems like all the pieces of her past are coming back to haunt her all at once. A new coven of witches who seem impossible to get along with, her lover Death who she tried to escape for so long, and a boy who looks like he might be the version of her son she was trying to recreate, who seems to adore her despite everything she is and wants to learn magic more than anything else. It’s all come back around.

So maybe, through reasons and events currently unfolding, Agatha’s journey on The Road (and the show) is to realize, or at least begin to maybe believe slightly, that she’s not inherently evil. She’s not an inherently bad person, or bad luck, or horrible. It wasn’t all her fault. Nicky’s death wasn’t her fault, even if she couldn’t save him. Death is part of her journey, as it is for us all, and maybe she can learn to accept that, maybe even love the woman who carries that name again, or at least forgive her.

Maybe this boy isn’t hers, but she can care for him and teach him the magic she never got to teach her own son. There can be a coven who actually has her back, who even sees her as their leader, who knows her and accepts her for what she truly is. Extremely flawed, powerful as all fuck, snarky and sarcastic, but the real her.

Not Agatha the evil witch. Not Agatha the villain (because she never was one). Not Agatha the hero either. Just Agatha. All Along.

———

Eh?? 🤷‍♀️

Now maybe in the show it’s not quite as angsty as all this, but Jac Schaeffer is writing this character too complexly and Kathryn Hahn is playing her too complexly for at least some of this not to be true. Agatha’s not just a villain. She’s not true evil. It’s only episode 4 and we basically know for a fact based on her reactions alone that Agatha did NOT sacrifice her own child for the book of the damned. And I just can’t get over the way Kathryn Hahn almost seems to be playing two characters with Agatha, the (evil) witch and the vulnerable Agatha underneath that only seems to surface for Teen and Rio, so far.

It’s fascinating, and I just want to see her get the depth of story she deserves. And we deserve, tbh.

[everythingiloveblog]

I have so many things to complain about in ep10, that I have a hard time organizing my thoughts

Other than that, some things have been bothering me about Jack as a character, or rather the choices made for his character. Because they are definitely making some interesting (derogatory) choices with Jack’s character.

I love Jack, he is (was?) the character I’m interested in the most, but I’m starting to think that I will never get the depth(?) I thought I would get from him.

I was definitely on his side during ep7-8, defending him while people had a hard time understanding his point of view, or putting themselves in his shoes. But since ep10, like I said , some things have been bothering me.

One of them is that I noticed that Jack barely has any emotional bond with the characters in the show.

The show did it well with Joke though.

Joke & Grandma: they had so many emotional scenes of talking to each other & supporting each other & doing things for each other that I feel like, at this point, people care more about the bond between Joke & Grandma, than Jack & his own Grandma (or even Joke & Jack)

Joke & Hoy: Hoy has been on Joke’s side since episode 2 if I remember well, always feeling bad for him, understanding that if a rich kid like him is not going back home, there must be a reason, teaching him to drive, asking him his type, etc. And even in this last episode, he was comforting him at the hospital

Joke & Tattoo: Tattoo couldn’t care less about him at first, since he doesn’t like rich people and like, he doesn’t know him anyway. So he betrayed him twice, with barely any remorse, and if his mother had been on his side, he would have been gone with the necklace. But things didn’t go his way and Joke decided to forgive him TWICE, which led to Tattoo being thankful & remorseful. Since then, an emotional bond has been formed

Joke & Arun: well, they started as enemies (with the first group heist of the show), now they are in good terms. Not much going on between them but at the very least, Arun is now part of the 4 Little Pigs, so they are spending time together, getting drunk together & they did that heist together as well

Joke & Toi Ting : they don’t have that many scenes together, but I feel like they always give the big emotional speeches to Toi Ting to Joke (first in ep6 when she cried because she got bullied for being uneducated, and in ep10 twice after her dad left & when Joke was going to leave)

Joke & his father and brother : whether we like it or not, they clearly developed a story of love & forgiveness, etc (I don’t have much to say about this storyline as I don’t like it, but I understand that it’s a cultural thing, as most of the Thai bl I’ve watched did the same thing)

Even Boss & Nang had some interesting conversations with Joke in the show.

Now let’s look at Jack...well, I feel like everything is superficial

Jack & Save: who are they even to each other? They talked like 3 times, and it was nothing very noteworthy. He’s like this random lil bro that he’s close to, and we don’t know why, how or when they got close. So the betrayal feels a bit off, and the reveal was also underwhelming (to me at least)

Jack & Hope: once again, why the beef? No explanation. A few antagonistic interactions at the beginning, then nothing.

Jack & his grandma: we had some scenes, and of course they love and care about each other, but weirdly enough, their emotional bond feel weaker than the one she has with Joke...idk

Jack & Hoy & Tattoo: he was their debt collector, helping them because they couldn’t pay...and that’s it. He’s like the nice neighbourhood big bro. They like him, they respect him. But we don’t see much of it. They barely hang out with Jack. And when they do, Joke is always here. They are giving more Joke’s friends hanging out with Joke’s boyfriend tbh

Jack & Toi Ting: We know that she likes him, she was his eyes in the neighbourhood when he was working, I liked that scene with Jack, Toi Ting and her dad. But again very superficial. Like I said, the big emotional moments with Toi Ting are given to Joke and Jack is on the side so...

Jack & Arun: nothing to say I fear

Jack & Nang : does Jack even know that she exists? Oh yeah, she was at the table during his birthday dinner at Rosé's...does he know who she is?

Jack & Boss: probably one of his most developped relationship...and it’s an abusive one. Like I said in a previous post, Jack got emotionally manipulated by Boss during the 5 years he worked for him, and then ended up being verbally, physically and mentally abused by him, while being used as a pawn to Boss’s quest for power (after almost killing his grandma). All those scenes of Jack closing his fist while talking to Boss better not be for nothing

Jack & Rosé: Well, she liked him, he didn’t, he worked for her while being a potential spouse (forced by Boss). He ended up telling her that he didn’t like her but said they could remain friends...where was that friendship though. Nothing they shared was genuine though...so like idek (I wish there was an actual friendship formed between them actually but oh well)

Jack & his parents: Very surprised about the fact that he NEVER talks about them, ever. I actually thought that Oh (Jennie’s character) dying the same way as his parents would trigger him or something, but no. He thought about them briefly in ep4 (after Joke fixed his little bookshelf corner) but Grandma was the one bringing them up, saying that she misses them.

So...yeah. It’s disappointing really. I feel like there was so much more that could have been done with Jack’s character

And it also might be one of the reasons why it’s easier for the viewers to connect with Joke than with Jack

[sansaorgana]

📻 PLAYLIST — LEADER OF THE PACK

TRACK 1. — HE'S A GOOD GUY (YES, HE IS) BY THE MARVELETTES ⏮ ⏸ ⏭

PAIRING — Benny Cross x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — On the first day of high school you meet a new friend. Your parents say he's from the wrong side of the tracks but you can't be convinced as you develop a crush on him, not knowing yet that it is only the beginning of a much bigger adventure you are going to have with Benny Cross in the next few years.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — The gif is NOT a faceclaim – the Reader's looks are not described. I just wanted the vibe of a retro high school and it's not even the correct era lol I have no idea yet how many parts this story will be but I missed writing for Austin's characters and I wanted to finally write down the idea I've had for a while now. Also, this time I decided to lowkey use the playlist format since this sort of music is one of my favourite genres (old r&b, soul, doo wop etc.) 🥰 Of course you don't have to actually listen to those songs! 😅

WARNINGS — era accurate sexism and mindset of characters (I assumed it would be like late 1950s / early 1960s and they are from a small town), Reader and Benny are minors in this part (they are not even a couple, though)

WORD COUNT — 5,470

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

LEADER OF THE PACK (TRACK 1.)

“Have you made any new friends at school?” Your mother asked with a smile when you were chewing on a steak with mashed potatoes. You nearly sighed at her question, trying very hard not to roll your eyes. Why were parents always asking that?

Well, to be fair, you had never had many friends.

There was Rachel whom you had known ever since you two had been toddlers. Rachel was definitely your best friend. Back in the day there had also been Tammy. There had always been the three of you everywhere but for about a year now Tammy had been acting differently. Ever since she had started dating, that is. Her boyfriend Louis was in the football team and he wasn’t even saying hi to you or Rachel. 

“I don’t know if it counts as making a friend but…” you started, nervously fidgeting with the fork in your hand. The person you were about to mention was a boy and you were scared of everyone’s reactions.

Your mother would tease, probably. Father and older brother would begin their interrogation as if it was anything serious.

“Miss Cooper sat me with this one boy,” you finally revealed and you watched your father lowering the newspaper he had been hiding behind until now. He raised an eyebrow at you after exchanging a meaningful look with your older brother Luke.

“Why did she tell you to sit with a boy?” Your mother smiled.

“What boy?” Your father asked, harshly.

“I’m supposed to help him in class. He’s nice but not the brightest, if you get me,” you tried to explain. “He’s not stupid – just slow when it comes to studying,” you quickly added.

“So he’s stupid,” Luke rolled his eyes.

“No!” You defended your new friend immediately.

“Who is he?” Your father repeated the question, irritated already that you had ignored him the first time and that you were fighting with your brother. Women in that household were supposed to be quiet and obedient.

He hadn’t survived the war for his own daughter to act like a brat – that was what your father was often saying. He was using the war to guilt trip you, your mother and Luke whenever he thought it was needed. 

“His name is Benny,” you nodded at your father. “Benjamin Cross,” you added.

Your parents looked at each other with a quiet sigh.

“What is it?” You asked and looked at your brother questioningly but he seemed to be as oblivious as you were why your parents reacted that way.

“I’m sure he is a nice boy…” your mother started softly, “but he is not from a good family.”

“They’re from the wrong side of the tracks,” your father explained. “Doesn’t surprise me that the boy is slow. I’ve never seen his father sober. I think he’s lost every job he has ever had.”

“And his mother?” Luke asked, curious already. One thing about your brother was that he was extremely nosy and an awful gossip.

“What about his mother? I haven’t seen her in ages,” your father looked at your mother.

“I do believe that Mrs. Cross passed away some time ago,” your mother hummed to herself. “Yes! I remember now,” she nodded eagerly. “She died two years ago. Evie told me about it last winter when we were Christmas shopping.”

“What Evie?” Your father asked.

“You know Evie! The one living down the road. Jack’s wife, that accountant.”

“Ah, yeah, yeah, Jack’s wife,” your father picked up the newspaper again. “Either way, Benny Cross is not your new friend,” he decided as he gave you a stern look. You felt your cheeks heating up. “He’s just a boy that Miss Cooper sat you with to help him. That’s it,” he finished and hid himself behind the newspaper again.

“And if he ever bothers you, just tell me!” Luke pointed his finger at you and you nodded nervously, going back to your meal.

Even though your father had decided that Benny Cross was not your friend, it was difficult to remember about that. Perhaps his grades were not good and his clothes were poor but who ever cared about such things? What mattered was that he knew how to make you laugh even though most of the time he was a quiet guy.

In fact, he was making you laugh so much that Miss Cooper angrily separated you two after three weeks of sitting together. She gave you a scolding look and said those words that would make your blood run cold under any other circumstances:

“I am so disappointed in you, (Y/N).”

But now you didn’t really care. You were just angry that she separated you from Benny. You introduced him to Rachel during lunch break but Rachel was not convinced.

“I don’t mind him. And you know that I couldn’t care less about his family!” She gasped when you accused her of being prejudiced. “It’s just… I think he might have a bad influence on you. On the both of us. We shouldn’t hang out with him for too long. But it’s very noble that you want to help him with his grades,” she assured you quickly when she spotted annoyance on your face.

“Why noble?” You asked her. “I didn’t even think of that. I just want to help my friend,” you explained.

“Oh, admit it!” Rachel giggled. “You fancy him.”

“What?!” Your eyes widened and you stopped walking, adjusting the books in your hand. Rachel chuckled and stopped as well, turning around to face you.

“Oh, (Y/N), come on, I have eyes, too. He’s handsome with those baby blue eyes and golden hair. And I’m sure you haven’t missed those muscles under his shirt. If it’s true what they say about his family, I am convinced he is used to physical work,” she covered her mouth to hide another giggle escaping her lips.

Truth to be told, you had never seen Benny Cross as a potential romantic interest… until now. You swallowed thickly at Rachel’s words, realising they were all true – he was a handsome boy with a devilish smile.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” Rachel assured you. “But please, don’t become another Tammy and don’t leave me behind just because you have a crush!”

“I won’t!” You promised her with widened eyes and you grabbed her by her wrist to squeeze it. “I promise.”

Ever since that conversation with Rachel, you began to treat Benny a little differently. When he was making you laugh, you were trying to make your laughter sound more girly as you would throw your head back and fix your hair in a feminine manner. Instead of making silly faces at him, you started to cover your face with your hand to show him how flustered you were becoming. And for the very first time you didn’t spend your pocket money on a new record or a book – no, you spent it on a new pastel pink ribbon for your hair even though you knew that Benny would teasingly pull on it at school.

His hands were often dirty so whenever he pulled on it, he was leaving a small mark on the soft fabric of the ribbon. If it was any other boy, you would get frustrated and angry but you would never get angry at Benny – in fact, you were laying on the bed in the evenings, listening to your dreamy records and brushing the ribbon with your fingertips, tracing the marks left behind by Benny’s dirty fingers.

You never minded the dirty hands – they only meant he was working hard. He revealed to you that he had to do a lot of jobs after school to help his father to earn enough money to get through the month. In the end, instead of getting a thanks, he would often get a beating from his drunk old man. He was never talking kindly about him and you couldn’t blame Benny for that. There was a lot of hatred in your new friend whenever he mentioned his father and those were the moments when you were quite scared but also intrigued – when his pretty eyes filled with sparkles and hatred. He would quickly soften again, though.

It was obvious, though, that he had no time to study after school or do his homework. You were trying to help him but he was too ashamed to invite you over to his place and you were scared of taking you home because your father would not be happy about it. You never said anything about it but it was as if Benny knew anyway – he never proposed to go to your place after school. So, the only time you had to help him study was during the lunch break.

Rachel was sometimes sitting with you two but she was not happy about it. She had you all for herself after school, though, so she was trying to be understanding. When it came to Benny’s friends… Well, he didn’t have them.

Benny was too strong and too mean looking to be pushed around so the kids just left him alone and let him be. However, the boys from the football team – Tammy’s boyfriend included – were often making comments about Benny being stupid, poor or weird. You were always telling him not to listen and he was shrugging his arms, but it was hard to believe that he truly didn’t care about such things. They always had an impact on a person, especially so young.

The school in your small Illinois town was not big so your brother Luke was quickly told that you spend most of your lunch breaks sitting by the same table in the corner of the cafeteria with Benny Cross.

“I would like to ask (Y/N) about something,” he said during dinner on that day and everyone looked at you. You froze, already expecting the worst. You loved your brother because he was your family but you didn’t like him – too often he was trying to act like your father.

“What is it?” Your mother asked, worryingly.

“I was told that Miss Cooper separated (Y/N) and that Cross boy a few weeks ago because they were loud in class. Yet, I still see them spending lunch breaks together,” he revealed and your heart skipped a beat.

“You were loud in class?!” Your father snapped and you swallowed a lump in your throat as your hands began to shake.

“I… I am sorry…” You looked down.

“Don’t be angry at her! I am sure it was that boy’s fault!” Your mother defended you.

“Perhaps. Why does she still spend time with him then?” Your father observed you intensely.

“I… I want to help him,” you explained quietly. “I help him to study, that’s it. He is nice to me and it’s not like he’s stupid, he really is not!” You exclaimed after spotting Luke snorting at your words. “But he doesn’t have time to study after school.”

“Well, that is so noble of you, darling,” your mother caressed your arm but you flinched a little at the word that she used – noble. “We should be glad that our daughter is so helpful and compassionate,” she laid her eyes on your father.

“Being around that boy means trouble,” your father shook his head. “I cannot punish you for having a good heart,” he sighed. “Women tend to be too weak. That is why you have fathers and husbands to show you the right path.”

“And brothers,” Luke nodded but your father did not comment on that.

“I don’t want you to start getting worse grades because you put too much effort into helping somebody else,” your father pointed his finger at you.

“But daddy! I learn as well when I help Benny to study!” You protested.

“While you are repeating the basics with him, you could already study more advanced subjects yourself. Aren’t you always saying that you want to go to college one day?” He furrowed his brows and you shut your mouth. The college argument was always making you feel guilty, too. It was almost as bad as the war one. “I am not saving my hard-earned money for you to go to college only to find out you are wasting your time on a deadbeat Cross boy!”

“He is a lost cause, sweetheart, you must realise that,” your mother was much more gentle when she caressed your cheek but the meaning of her words was the same after all. “I know it’s sad but the truth is he is going to end up like his father and we cannot do anything to stop it. It’s a waste of time to try.”

“Enough,” your father raised his hand. “I don’t want to talk about that boy ever again.”

And just like that the rest of the meal went quietly with your mother occasionally trying to cheer your father up by bringing up some random facts from her boring day full of shopping, cooking and cleaning. 

After dinner, you stayed in the kitchen to help her clean the table and wash the dishes while your father and Luke were free to go and spend that time on whatever they wished.

You were drying the plates with a cloth, biting on your lower lip and waiting for the right time to start a private conversation with your mother.

“He’s nice to me, mommy,” you finally whispered.

“Hm?” She turned her head around to meet your gaze.

“Benny Cross. He is nice to me and he makes me laugh,” you tried to explain in the simplest way possible. “He is my friend now. I can’t just… I can’t just stop hanging around with him. He doesn’t have anyone.”

“He surely has some friends,” your mother furrowed her brows.

“Not at school, no. He mentioned some guys from his street but they don’t go to school anymore,” you explained.

“They’re older?”

“Not much. They just… They dropped out or got expelled,” you lowered your voice and your mother sighed, extending her hand to give you another plate to dry. “Mom! I know what it sounds like but I don’t think he’s a lost cause. I think a push into the right direction could save his life,” you were desperate to make her understand. “We cannot claim that we are good people when we turn our backs on those in need.”

You felt bad for referring to Benny as someone in need and you were sure that his pride would be bruised but you also were aware that it was the only argument that could convince your mother – she wanted to be a good person above anything else. She wanted to be known for her kindness and her nice family as if the whole meaning of her life revolved only around how others perceived her. She wanted to always be soft and feminine – just like your father wanted her to be. And she wanted the exact same from you but you had ambitions that both scared and impressed her. Like the fact you wanted to go to college or you had the courage to stand up for yourself and argue with your father sometimes.

“If it doesn’t interfere with your own studying then I don’t see a reason why you can’t help him,” she sighed as she nodded in a whisper. “However, I don’t think your father should know about it. I’ll try to talk to Luke and make him understand so he doesn’t snitch on you again,” she assured you and your eyes brightened.

“Thank you!” You squealed happily and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Mom?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Can I invite Benny here after school one day? Maybe on Friday? We don’t have many classes so we’d have a few hours before daddy comes back from work and Luke has his baseball practice at that time,” you tried to give her as many reasons as possible for her to agree.

“I don’t know, (Y/N)... I’m not sure if it’s a good idea,” your mother shook her head and went back to washing the dishes. You sighed and didn’t say anything else but you could see that she was intensely thinking about something. “On the other hand…” she started, “...your father is going out with his friends from work for dinner this Friday. He won’t be back until late in the evening.”

“So you agree?” Your eyes widened. “Oh, mom, you would meet him and I’m sure you’re going to see what I see… That he’s a nice boy!”

“Alright… But don’t make me regret that,” she gave you a scolding – but still soft – look.

Benny was trying to play it cool because he always tried to come off as unbothered by anything but you could see that he was nervous. He had one class less than you on that day but he promised to wait for you behind the school building and when you ran up to him with books in your hand, you spotted him throwing a cigarette on the ground before stepping on it with his shoe to put it out.

“Benny!” You gasped at the sight. You had no idea he was smoking. “My mom won’t like it when she smells the cigarette smoke on you!” You pointed out.

“She’ll think it’s my old man’s,” Benny only shrugged his arms and took the books from you to carry them for you. That sweet gesture made you forget in an instant about his awful habit you had just found out about.

You walked down the street to your house and you caught yourself struggling with a very odd mix of feelings – you felt proud walking down the street next to Benny Cross who was holding your books. His jeans were worn out, his blond hair ruffled and his steps heavy – no other boy around here looked or walked like him. And because of that… You felt a little ashamed, too. Just a little. And only because some of your neighbours were looking you up and down after you said good afternoon to them. You just hated the way they were staring.

Lost in such thoughts, you spotted that Benny was looking around uncomfortably. He was watching the houses and the perfectly trimmed lawns, the white picket fences and flowers planted in the gardens.

“Does it look different where you live?” You asked, naively. It was hard to imagine that not every neighbourhood where people lived didn’t look the same.

“You’ve never been there, have you?” Was all Benny asked as he cracked a sad smile with a hint of pity.

“N-no,” you admitted and shook your head, embarrassed of yourself.

“That’s alright, doll. I’m glad you haven’t and I hope you never will,” he nodded firmly.

“It’s here!” Thankfully, you had a reason to change the subject because Benny had nearly walked past your house. You grabbed him by his sleeve and pulled him towards your front door.

You pushed them open and walked inside as he began to fix his hair with his free hand and his face turned a shade paler.

“Mom, we’re home!” You announced and took your shoes off. Benny mirrored you and took his off as well but he seemed to be pretty surprised that it was your custom.

Your mother entered the hallway from the kitchen, wiping her hands in the apron. Her smile was cautious and soft as if she was approaching a wild, stray kitten abandoned by the road.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. (Y/L/N),” Benny straightened his back at the sight of her.

“Good afternoon, Benny. (Y/N)’s been talking a lot about you,” she hesitated but eventually extended her hand towards him and you hissed at her because you didn’t want her to mention such things that you were talking about him and all that. It was embarrassing.

“Mom!” You whined as Benny looked around, trying to find a spot where to put the books he had been carrying for you all the way home. You took them from him with an encouraging smile and he nodded at you before shaking your mom’s hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Benny said.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, too, Benny. (Y/N) mentioned to me you are going to study, yes? Go to her room now and I’ll call you for dinner when the time comes,” your mother announced and your heart skipped a beat. You had no idea Benny could actually stay for the meal.

“Um… Benny, go upstairs,” you handed him the books again. “My room is on the left,” you added. “Wait for me there,” you said and he nodded.

You followed your mother to the kitchen.

“What is it?” She asked you. “I thought you’d be happy that I invited him.”

“I am! But what about Luke?” You squinted your eyes. You knew that your brother would not approve of that.

“He informed me this morning that he is taking Patsy on a date after practice. He won’t be home until evening,” your mother informed you.

“Patsy?” You chuckled. She was two years older than you – just like your brother. And she was everybody’s dream, so you were told. Beautiful, from a good family, obedient, with good grades. A perfect woman and a wife material.

Something you were scared you would never be.

“Yes, Patsy. I am so happy for him,” your mother grinned widely and you smiled, too, although you didn’t care about your brother enough to be happy for him. In fact, you gritted your teeth that everything in his life seemed to go so perfectly as always. Your father’s golden boy.

Would your life be similar if you had been born a man, too?

Either way, you hugged your mom and ran upstairs to join Benny inside your room. He was standing in the middle of it and looking around in a way that made your cheeks heat up. It was a typical girly room like millions of others but now you somehow felt embarrassed about it.

“It’s a bit childish,” you admitted.

“No, it’s very pretty,” Benny shrugged his arms and blushed when his eyes met yours. “I think it suits you,” he admitted and remained standing there awkwardly.

“Thank you,” You sat on the chair by the desk where he had put your books already and you pointed at your bed to let him know that he could sit on the edge of it. He did that but very carefully as if he was scared of making your sheets dirty.

You gathered the books and moved up to sit next to him so there would be no more distance between you two. You started with doing your homeworks together and you quickly realised your father might have been right about something – Benny would be a distraction. You couldn’t stop staring at his face. At his plump lips that made you think of nothing but kissing, at his beautiful, long eyelashes that were dark even though his hair was golden. Speaking of his hair – it was so fluffy and had different shades  of blond depending on the layers. You were counting all the moles on his cheeks and getting lost in his ocean blue eyes. Whenever your hands brushed each other while trying to turn the page at the same time, you couldn’t help but notice his big hands with long, thin fingers. Those were very pretty hands even though they were rough from all the physical work he was usually doing after school.

He was helping people for money – mowing the lawns, fixing sinks, carrying heavy things, all kinds of stuff. But what he enjoyed the most was fixing cars and motorbikes. He had revealed that to you recently and you thought it was adorable that he had a passion and it could actually be turned into a solid job later in life.

The longer you were explaining things to him, the faster he was understanding them. You were pretty convinced by now that he was not stupid at all.

“Benny?” You batted your eyelashes and he turned his head around to look deep into your eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Can you promise me something?” You dared to ask.

“What is it, doll?” He smirked. He would often call you a doll and perhaps you should have been offended by it but in fact it was causing you to have butterflies in your stomach.

“Promise me that you’re gonna finish high school, alright?” You furrowed your brows.

Benny was visibly surprised by your words. He didn’t get to answer, though, because the door opened widely without knocking and your mother walked inside. You and Benny moved away from each other slightly.

“The dinner is ready,” she announced with a smile. She seemed to be pretty happy with the sight of the open books and notebooks scattered everywhere. You nodded at her and you stood up to follow her downstairs. Benny walked behind you. “How was the studying?” Your mother asked when you were sitting by the table.

“It is going well, ma’am. Your daughter should become a teacher,” Benny smiled at her.

“She might! (Y/N) wants to go to college, has she told you?” Your mother asked him while putting salad and chicken onto his plate. “Will it be enough for you, Benny? Such a strong boy like you must eat a lot,” she chuckled before turning around to put the food on your plate as well.

“It is enough, ma’am. It looks delicious, thank you. I can’t remember when was the last time I had vegetables for dinner,” Benny chuckled nervously while you and your mother exchanged meaningful looks. You both were sorry for him.

“Well, you can eat as much of this salad as you wish. My husband and son are not dining with us this evening,” your mother explained softly before taking her seat and you all began to eat.

“Thank you,” Benny blushed.

The rest of the meal went pretty calm since Benny was a quiet boy most of the time. In fact, it made you feel special that he liked to make you laugh because he was not very fun with others around. He was an outsider towards most but you probably had made him like you because you had treated him kindly and you had tried to help him from the very beginning. You hadn’t judged him and you hadn’t made it feel like an act of charity.

Despite being of a quiet nature, Benny was answering your mother’s questions politely and, oh dear, she asked a lot. Lots of her questions were about Benny’s family and you just knew that she was itching to ask about how Benny's mother had died but thankfully she didn’t actually ask that.

She was in the middle of telling a funny story when all of you froze at the sound of the front door opening. You and your mother looked at each other, scared, and that was when Luke entered the dining room and winced at the sight of Benny.

You sighed with relief at the sight of him because your father would be a much worse possibility but it still did not mean that it was alright. You were nervous and so was your mother. She decided to play it cool.

“Oh, hi, honey!” She greeted her son. “How was the practice? How was your date with Patsy?” She tried to sound cheerful.

“Both went fine,” Luke answered with a clenched jaw as he looked Benny up and down. “What is (Y/N)’s… friend doing here?” He asked rudely and your mother gave him a scolding look.

“Well, that is not a nice way to greet a guest, is it? (Y/N) invited Benny to help him with homework and I wanted him to stay for the meal,” your mother explained.

Luke approached Benny with an extended hand as you watched the interaction with fear. You knew that for men it was some sort of a game of dominance. Benny hesitated for a very long and tense moment, staring at your brother’s hand with contempt. Finally, he stood up and shook it back. You could see his knuckles turning white from the strength he was using to show off how firm his hold could be.

“Nice to meet you,” Luke gave him a fake smile.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Benny nodded and sat back on his chair. “You been on a date with Patsy Carter?” He asked.

“Yes. Do you know her?” If Luke’s eyes could kill, Benny would be dead now.

“Nah, never spoke to ‘er but you know, it’s hard not to know who she is,” Benny winked at him playfully as you chewed on the inside of your cheek. You couldn’t understand why Benny wanted to provoke your brother so much. The situation was bad enough already.

“Are you insinuating something, Cross?” Luke’s fists clenched.

“Lucas!” Your mother tried to calm him down.

“Just sayin’ she’s a nice piece,” Benny commented and you looked away, trying to hide your anger.

You couldn’t believe that Benny said such a disrespectful thing about another girl – a girl your brother dated – in front of your own mother. It made you feel like a fool to ever defend him in front of your family. Perhaps they had been right – he was from the bad side of town and his ways were too different to try to change them.

“Don’t test me, kid,” Luke drawled out. Thankfully, that was all he said before walking out of the room. Your mother looked at you, panicked, before standing up and following her son to talk to him.

“Why have you done that?” You asked, sniffling your tears back when you eventually turned your head around to meet Benny’s gaze. He seemed to be confused why you reacted this way. “You have no idea for how long I have been defending you and…”

“Oh, thank you, doll,” he interrupted you and his voice was full of irony. “The tramp you defended turns out to be a bum? How shocking,” he commented and you spotted that awful sparkle in his eye that would often show up whenever he spoke of his father. But why was his anger aimed at you now?

“I didn’t mean to offend you…” your voice began to shake. “I just thought we were friends. You were nice to me.”

Benny sighed. He tilted his head as he examined your face and you just knew that he was thinking of you as naive.

“‘m sorry,” Benny mumbled out. “Didn’t want to make you sad. I just don’t like bein’ treated like your big brother treated me,” he explained.

“I know,” you calmed down immediately. “I’m sorry about him, too,” you assured him and glanced at the clock on the wall. “My daddy’s going to be home soon. I think it’s time for you to go now,” you told him and you were scared he would get angry again at that but he understood. Benny nodded and left the table. You followed him to walk him out.

“Tell your ma that the food was great, ‘kay? And apologise to her from me,” he asked while putting his shoes back on.

“Yeah, sure, Benny,” you nodded and hugged your own self. You didn’t want to say goodbye yet. “See you tomorrow at school.”

“See you,” Benny winked at you and squeezed your arm. “You’re a nice girl, doll. Thanks for everythin’,” he added before going out and those few words were enough to make your heart swell in your chest.

You watched him walk away with his hands inside the pockets of his jeans. You were sure he would go back to his place on foot while whistling some song he had heard on the radio earlier. That was his way.

When you went back to the dining room, your mother was already cleaning the plates.

“Benny’s just left. He wanted me to tell you that the food was great and he wanted to apologise for–” you started.

“Save it,” she interrupted you and looked up to meet your gaze. She was angry and you were taken aback by that. “It was the last time this boy was here, do you hear me?” She asked, harshly, but she gave you no time to answer. “I managed to beg Lucas to keep it a secret but he is not happy about it and I can’t blame him.”

“But mom, I am sure you could see that Benny is a nice boy. He only was rude when Lucas acted like a–”

“I said, save it,” your mother snapped and you shut your mouth immediately. “Help me with the dishes now, will you? Let’s not talk about it anymore.”

MASTERLIST

[die-pink-maus]

A Weekend in Vienna 🇦🇹

While vacationing in Germany, Chantelle’s (OC) best friend, Adrian (also an OC), books an impromptu trip to Vienna to visit extended family. Chantelle decides to join her for the last few days of her trip, where she meets an interesting friend of Adrian’s family who offers to show the two around the city for the weekend🤭

TW: Pretty much none, not for this chapter anyway, but things will get 🌶️spicy🌶️ in the next parts. Also there is an age gap between OC and König, she is 25 and he is about 36-37.

CW: FemOCs, female pronouns used, while both characters are technically OCs please feel free to imagine them however you’d like, ultimately the main character is the reader, I just didn’t want to use “Y/N” so I gave them names 🙈

Word Count: 1,516

*DISCLAIMER*

This is my first time EVER writing any kind of fan fiction so please go easy on me 😭 if you like where things are going, likes and reblogs would be greatly appreciated! If you’d like to see anything in particular in the next part or part(s), I’d love to hear it!

This version of König is based on the above interpretation drawn by @lettaniko (I hope you don’t mind me using it! I absolutely love this drawing it’s perfect! 🫶🏼)

I like a nice build up to the smut so if you like to get right into it this is probably not going to be for you…but if you can wait I it out I promise it’ll be worth it 😂

Enjoy! 💋

7:30am. There’s approximately 30 minutes before my train departs for Vienna, and I still haven’t reached the train station yet. I scrambled as I dashed out of my hotel room, hoping I’d left the place in a somewhat decent state and I hadn’t forgotten anything valuable as got into the elevator. I’ve been exploring Munich for the past two weeks and I’ve been having the absolute time of my life. Although traveling alone can be quite scary, oddly enough, I’ve never felt more at home. Munich is such a vibrant city, filled with all kinds of exciting things to do and I’ve met so many incredible people, it’s definitely been the experience of a lifetime. To say that I am not looking forward to going back home to Vancouver would be an understatement, but all good things must come to an end. I’d spent about a year and a half learning to speak German, and promised myself that I would plan a trip in celebration of achieving fluency, so here I am! Now, Vienna wasn’t initially on my list of places to visit when I decided to come to Germany, but my best friend, Adrian, ended up booking a spur of the moment flight last week to visit extended family in Austria and suggested I come hangout with her during the last few days of my trip. Seeing as its only a 3-4hr train ride from Munich, I figured why the hell not! I’ve heard Vienna is beautiful, and Im at all not opposed to exploring another city.

Upon arrival at the train station in Vienna I was greeted by Arian, excitedly jumping up and down while holding up a large white sign that read “Willkommen in Wien, Schlampe!” I rolled my eyes and shook my head, laughing as I got off the train and ran over to her, tackling her in a tight embrace as she laughed hysterically. “Did you have to let the whole station know that I’m a bitch or…?”

“Honestly, they should’ve known the moment they saw you.” She said jokingly. “How was the ride over?” She asked.

“Amazing, I haven’t slept that well in years. It also didn’t feel like a 4 hour train ride.”

“Trains in out here are quite quick so I wouldn’t be surprised if it somehow took less time. They definitely shit on the ones we have back home.”

“Oh for sure.” I agreed as we began walking over to the car.

“So a family friend of ours just came back from a mission in the states, he’s in the military bee tee dubs —“

“Yeah kinda pieced that together when you said ‘mission’.” I chuckled.

“I don’t drive out here so he’s gonna give us a ride back to my aunts, cool?”

“Sounds good.”

“He’s also a lot more familiar with Vienna than I am, so he offered to show us around a bit later on this evening.” Aw how nice of him. Knowing Adrian, the first place she’ll want to be taken to is the nearest bar, that girl can drink! If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my time in Germany, and my 10 years of friendship with Adrian, it’s that Europeans love their liquor. There are people from all parts of Europe in Germany and that’s one thing that remains quite consistent across the board. I also love my liquor, which is probably why I ended up fitting in so well.

We finally arrived at the car and opened the trunk to begin loading all of my luggage inside. I’d brought a small carryon suitcase, a duffle bag, as well as a large suitcase that was full of clothes I’d over packed from home, and a bunch of other clothes and souvenirs I’d bought in Munich. “Okay this one’s gonna be a tad heavy.” I warned as Adrian grabbed hold of the handle on the top. I reached forward to try to help her lift, but neither of us could manage the weight. “I got it.” His voice was low, but gentle. He had an accent, but it wasn’t overwhelming or harsh, nor did it make anything he said hard to understand. I wasn’t expecting to see the person I saw when I’d finally caught a glimpse of him…I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man like this in my entire life. Adrian and I stepped back as he grabbed hold of the suitcase, lifting it with absolute ease, as if it were light as a feather. His arm muscles bulged within the confines of his olive green long sleeved shirt as he tossed the suitcase inside the trunk. My heart began to race, It felt as if I was watching him move in slow motion. “Easy peasy.” He smirked as he turned around and looked down at me, his dazzling dark blue eyes awash with amusement at Adrian and I’s prior struggle. Jesus Christ…This man is an absolute unit. He’s gotta be at least 6 foot 7, if not taller. He’s incredibly easy on the eyes in a rough and rugged kinda way — a nice low trimmed beard, medium length dark brown hair, and a smile that is captivatingly dangerous to say the least. His presence alone exudes a confidence that causes me to grow weak in the knees. “I’m König,” he smiled knowingly as he stretched his hand out towards me. I know I’m definitely not the first woman to look at him the way I am. Even though I’m trying to keep my composure, it’s very clear that he can see right through it. “And you must be Chantelle?” He asked, eyes slowly roaming about my frame from head to toe. He bites his lip slightly as they return to my gaze, suggesting so much without saying any words at all. “I — yes.” I blushed, sheepishly brushing my hair behind my ear as I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.” He said. “Oh yeah, König Chantelle, Chantelle König.” Adrian yelled from the backseat. He laughed and shook his head as he closed the trunk.

We arrived at Adrian’s aunts house about 45 minutes later. König helped us load all of my things into the foyer before letting us know he’d be coming back in a few hours to take us out to this bar that he and a few of his buddies on his task force frequent whenever they’re home. I’ve been thinking about him ever since he left — those mysterious blue eyes, the way he slightly bites his lower lip just before laughing at something ridiculous Adrian has said, the way his arm muscles swell beneath his shirt with the slightest movement…God, he’s sexy. I could think of a million different ways I’d want him to ruin me. The thought alone of being trapped beneath his large brawny frame writhing in pleasure as he thrusts into me over and over has me clenching around nothing. Though I’m not usually one for a one time fling, I have a feeling he’d be able to convince me. “So, you wanna tell me what all of that was about?” Adrian asked as she helped me settle into the guest room. “What are you talking about?” I asked. “Since when are you a shy girl?” She giggled. Sigh. I figured she was referencing my unusual silence during the car ride over here. “He’s hot as fuck but I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“Ugh!” I groaned as I covered my face with a pillow. She’s right. I’m not very easily intimidated. I’m quite the confident woman and I ensure everyone in the room knows it, but this was different. Almost as if our energies were fighting for dominance, and mine didn’t stand a chance. “Hey if it’s any consolation, my jaw dropped the first time I saw him without his mask too.” Mask?

“Mask?” I asked.

“Yes…the last time I was here he was on base training recruits, so I’d see him often in full tactical gear. He’s a snipper, so he wears a mask to hide his face in the field. I mean, that was hot too, but in a Ghostface kinda way”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the comparison, but I was curious to see what his entire ensemble looked like. “How old is he?” I asked.

“I think he’s in his mid to late 30s? I’m honestly not too sure, and it doesn’t matter to me either way.” She winked. “I was sensing some unspoken vibes between the two of you in the car though. Don’t think I didn’t see both of you stealing glances at each other every now and then.” She smirked.

“Stop,” I scoffed. “A man like that is definitely not single, and even if he is…I don’t know” I blushed. “I didn’t see him looking at me..”

“K well I see everything, he definitely likes what he sees, and clearly the feeling is mutual on your end as well. Looks like tonight will be interesting.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen, Adrian.” I laughed as I rolled my eyes. Nothing’s gonna happen…right?

PART II 👉🏽 A Weekend In Vienna 🇦🇹: PART II

PART III 👉🏽 A Weekend In Vienna 🇦🇹: PART III