#but yeah. highlight was the putting a name to things

[jacenotjason]

253 Facts About Hyaku

(YEAH THATS RIGHT 253 YOU PEOPLE ARE INSANE /AFF) some CW for mentions of death/murder/torture + bugs

Every 50th fact is ☆ highlighted, (50th, 100th, 150th, 200th, 250th), just... for fun.

His name “Hyakuashi” (百足) literally translates directly to “Hundred Legs”

Hyaku named himself. 

While he doesn’t have a last name, he’ll sometimes put it down as “Hyaku Ashi” if he needs to.

Hyaku is 6’1” (185 cm), but his heels make him about 6’4” (193 cm) 

He’s about 130lbs, which with his height, makes him underweight.

Hyaku doesn’t care about this, he prefers to be on the slimmer side (and isn’t even sure if he can gain or lose weight….) 

In a non-spooky style, his eyes would be a deep brown, almost black. 

^ In some writing I haven’t posted yet, I described his eyes as - “Deep black, monolid, and unnervingly still; they didn’t reflect light very much. There was something wrong about them, though she couldn't say how. Looking into them felt like standing in the center of a dark room and knowing, without question, that something in the dark was watching. Not one thing, but many.”

I often draw him with a lot of piercings in his face when drawing in my style, usually a septum most notably, but also a bridge and eyebrow piercing. 

His Meta creation date is December 21, 2024

He doesn’t have an in-universe birthday, not only because his creation is vague, but because he never bothered to pick out a fake birthday. 

^ If ever asked, he’d just give a date that’s very soon to get free stuff. 

Hyaku currently holds the highest killcount of all my OCs, with Mars a far second. 

Hyaku is Japanese!

He specifically comes from Osaka, Japan 

Hyaku is a yokai; He is the human form of The Omukade, or the Giant Centipede. 

Hyaku can return to the form of the Omukade, however, doing so would permanently destroy his human form. 

If asked, Hyaku wouldn’t be able to answer if he prefers to be human, or his original form. 

Hyaku feeds on negative emotions, he purposefully causes harm in order to feed and entertain himself.

His actions range from just shouldering people, to ensuring someone witnesses the death of a loved one.

Hyaku can sometimes tell if someone is also not human.

It’s not a perfect radar, but if he notices he doesn’t feel as full of misery as he should, he might be able to suss out that the person isn’t completely human. 

If Hyaku ever met someone COMPLETELY unbothered by his behavior, he’d continue to bother them worse and worse until they finally snapped

^ or until HE finally snaps, and kills them. Or, if they can’t be killed for any reason, he’d avoid them completely and become annoyed by their presence. 

The worst way I think someone can perceive Hyaku is like a hungry animal that’s just trying to survive, because this isn’t true. Without the need to consume negative emotions, Hyaku would STILL act like this. He’s simply cruel. 

Hyaku views humans as juice boxes; he holds no respect for them. 

He will never respect a human, no matter how intelligent, strong, or ruthless they are. At best, he may find one amusing for a time, like a particularly clever pet.

Hyaku LOVES anything apple flavored, especially apple juice. 

He also enjoys anything apple themed (apple plushie, cup, clothing, etc etc) 

His favorite season is Fall

His favorite color is any warm color (Red, orange, yellow) 

Hyaku bites ice cream 

On the note of ice cream, Hyaku doesn’t like anything too sugary.

He speaks both Japanese and English, with Japanese being his first language

Hyaku regularly slips into Japanese when speaking, usually to insult people around him that don’t know what he’s saying. 

Hyaku put off learning English for a LONG time, and put off learning to read + write English for even longer. 

^ to this day, his reading and writing is amateur. 

Hyaku has a very durable exterior. Traditional weapons (blades, guns, blunt objects, etc) do little damage to him, if at all.

Human saliva melts this armor, leaving Hyaku vulnerable to traditional attacks. 

When saliva melts his armor, it leaves Hyaku’s skin sizzling and numb. Even if not followed by an attack, just coming in contact with spit would be decently upsetting to Hyaku. 

Logically speaking the most effective way to attack Hyaku is to bite him, (if you were human)

Poison would also be ineffective to Hyaku, as… he is venomous himself. 

Hyaku’s venom isn’t fatal. If bitten and injected, it would cause intense pain and swelling, leaving someone weakened rather than dead.

If someone lived after being bitten, the bite would cause an intense fever after a few hours

After the fever pasts, the wound will become very itchy and irritated, baiting the victim to irritate it further and make it worse

All in all, it takes a few days for a Hyaku bite to fully heal 

His venom tastes like apple-flavored bleach 

Hyaku will fidget often with his ahoges/antenna, either twirling them from boredom or pulling on them with anger.

On the alignment chart, Hyaku would be Chaotic Evil. 

☆ His deadly sin would be Lust or Gluttony. 

His tarot card would be The Tower

His flower is a Red Spider Lily 

His animal symbolism would be a centipede, duh

^ but he favorite bug is actually a cicada 

Hyaku has an intact hunter mindset

He’s incredibly good at reading body language when chasing someone, able to predict where they’re going to turn next with really good accuracy 

He’s able to corner people with ease. 

Hyaku has a scar under his right eye, only visible when his glasses are removed

This scar is from when Hyaku was first taken down as The Omukade, suffering an arrow to the face.

Hyaku took his human form as a way to hide and heal, sleeping in Mount Mikami for 100 years.

He healed fast, but chose to stay asleep for longer, waiting for the people that remembered and feared The Omukade to die off. 

His first words as a human were a lie. 

They were “I don’t know where I am,” spoken in Japanese.

Hyaku’s voice claim is Leon Kuwata from Danganronpa, 

^ I’ve never been fully satisfied with his voice claim, but I haven’t found anything that fits better. 

His actual voice would be Leon Kuwata’s pitch, but with Miu Irumas tone, vocabulary and inflections. Basically if Leon said Miu’s lines. 

^ He often overuses curses and swears, and is rather vulgar. 

He’s incredibly vulgar with his words, not afraid to bring up people’s bodies or looks causally

A lot of characters in spooky month represent horror tropes, Hyaku is the representation of “Gore Porn” movies. (Think Tusk, Saw, Hostel, etc)

^ His entire being is a pun on this. He’s a HUMAN. CENTIPEDE. 

Hyaku can also represent the “Monster Disguised as a Man” trope, similar to The Thing, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, It Follows, etc

Bonus, he can also follow the “cannibalism as a metaphor for love” trope, sort of. Technically not “cannibalism” since Hyaku isn’t human, and I wouldn’t describe what he feels as “love” 

Despite his inspiration being torture porn movies, Hyaku would be disapointed in The Human Centipede movie. 

Hyaku can sometimes fall and run on all fours if in a crisis, but he never does this on purpose

Hyaku is not used to being injured. 

If ever seriously injured (Cough, Bob Velseb), Hyaku would falter in his confidence and panic a lot. 

Hyaku’s gender identity and attraction are VERY complicated, I can’t really fit them both into perfect labels. The best way I can explain it is.. Like if a thing that wasn’t MEANT to feel attraction, was suddenly squished into the shape of a human. His human form craves intimacy but he, himself, as the Omukade, doesn’t want it. 

THAT BEING SAID, Hyaku feels connected to masc terms.

He uses he/him, but would also respond to they/them or it/its.

I personally just use he/him with him, as I more associate it/its and they/them with his Omukade form, but feel free to use any of them!

Hyaku would also fall under aromatic and pansexual. 

He feels his own version of attraction towards people and things, which I won’t get into, and that attraction has no preference of gender 

BONUS, Hyaku would also be objectum (thats why I said “people and things”). 

I originally made Hyaku to be an demon x priest ship with Father Gregor, but that got pushed aside in favor of him being a yokai 

^ that being said, i think Hyaku would still be attracted to Father Gregor

^ i have a joke about this but it’s a bit.. Risque. So I’m choosing to hold onto it until the future. Just know that it exists. LMAO. 

Physically, Hyaku can pass as about 21-28.

He usually defaults to saying he’s 26

Hyaku is actually about 1400 years old, give or take 

On Toyhouse, I have his age listed as “Older than tea in Japan”

^ This is true! Since tea came to Japan at about 700 CE, and Hyaku’s age places him at being “born” in about 625 CE

Born in quotations, as.. The Omukade’s birth isn’t known at all.

Hyaku isn’t willing to share where he came from, either.

Possibly because he simply doesn’t remember, but isn’t willing to admit he forgot. 

Hyaku has been around for a LLLLOOONG time. (his story on Toyhouse is currently outdated!) 

He’s been awake and posing as a human since about 780 CE  

In the Heian period (around 1100), Hyaku posed as a wandering onmyōji, using spiritual exorcisms as a front to feed on grieving families. 

He immigrated to America in about 1700

^ to get here, he lied saying he was coming for work 

☆ ^ He brought an invasive bug species with him which still plagues part of the South 

Hyaku adopted the leather jacket style in 1950, and didn’t give it up even when it fell out of style

Yes, in 1950 Hyaku was a greaser. 

In 1970, Hyaku was a member of a band called “PLAY OR DIE”. 

This is when he learned how to play the electric guitar, which he still does today!

When the leader of this band accidentally discovered Hyaku’s true nature, Hyaku killed them in a staged house fire and moved on. 

The other two members of the band were left alive, believing that Hyaku had died in the fire, too. 

He’s been all around America, but came to Spooky Town just about eleven years ago. 

When he first arrived, he caused a car crash to test Spooky Town’s police response time. 

He originally planned to pass through Spooky Town, as the low population didn’t interest him.

However, the cult caused the emotional aura of Spooky Town to be completely rancid, enticing Hyaku to stay. 

Hyaku briefly dated Shotgun Man, but Shotgun actually broke up with Hyaku before he could do any damage. 

^ Hyaku is… still appalled by this. And Shotgun doesn’t know how big of a bullet they dodged. 

Hyaku’s original inspiration, waaaaay back when, was Trevor from The Good Place. I was captivated by that asshole.

^ In fact, one of Hyaku’s first lines I ever drew him saying was, “You should smile more”, which is also one of Trevor’s first and recurring lines. 

One of Hyaku’s later inspirations was LuLu (Luluyam)

Another recent inspiration is Erik Campbell from the new Final Destination movie, and is the reason Hyaku currently works at a tattoo parlor 

Hyaku smokes and drinks. 

He drinks because he interprets it as a luxury

His drink of choice is often red wine… straight from the bottle. He doesn’t bother with formalities like… glasses. 

He began smoking as sort of a dick move, wanting to smoke then quit just to show how incapable humans are

..This backfired, as he’s addicted to nicotine now. Though, he’d never admit it.

If you ever look closely, you can see he wears nicotine patches occasionally, usually hiding them under his leather jacket collar. 

Hyaku is insecure of his hips and hipbones, but he’ll never admit this. 

Hyaku has awful eyesight, and his sunglasses actually double as prescriptions. Once again, he’ll never admit this. 

His bad eyesight is one of the reasons he put off learning to read English for a long time 

Hyaku’s eyes are also sensitive to light. He can get used to light over time, however harsh, sudden lights, like a flashbang would disorient him greatly. 

Hyaku is very embarrassed of his bad eyesight, if it ever became obvious (ex, he runs into a door or mistakes something or something else), he would become very red heheh 

While his eyesight is terrible, his hearing is impeccable. 

His antenna can also pick up on subtle vibrations and movements, allowing him to “see” more clearly 

Hyaku works at a tattoo and piercing parlor 

It’s called “Pins and Needles” 

Some people joke that Hyaku would purposefully give people bad tattoos, but he actually loves his job and doesn’t want to lose it!

He loves his job because the clients there are constantly in WILLING pain, it’s great 

Even though he does his best at his job and gives people whatever they’re asking, Hyaku might purposefully cause a bit more pain than needed. He often pushes the tattoo gun harder than needed, or hesitates a few seconds before piercing someone. 

I’ve thought about his co-workers at Pins and Needles a few times, but I’m yet to give them any designs

I like to think that Hyaku gave Aaron his snake tattoo. 

Hyaku has no living relatives, but I’ve contemplated designing his “mom” just for fun. 

Hyaku is also not above lying about having living relatives for any reason

Hyaku can summon multiple arms from his back! 

When they are summoned, I’ve imagined them sort of… folding out from his skin, like an unfolding chair. His hands would be the last thing to unfold from his back, if that makes sense. I might have to make a visual reference for this one. 

He can summon 4 extra (6 total) before shit gets weird

By “shit gets weird” I mean his torso will elongate to make room

Whenever Hyaku is in a situation where he needs more strength, he won’t stop at just 6 or 8 arms. Once the dam has broken, Hyaku will take a form I’ve named “The Amalgamation.” 

The Amalgamation is basically the result of Hyaku summoning a BUNCH of arms, causing him to move on his arms now, like a centipede.

I’ve compared this form to both “the end result of the human centipede”, as well as “if Tusk was about a centipede instead of a walrus.” 

You may be wondering… well what does the end of The Amalgamation look like? And I don’t have an answer.

I think that’s kind of poetic, not even I, the artist, knows what the end of it looks like 

Hyaku can make bug noises! He often hisses, chitters, or buzzes. 

^ This is because, while his arms are completely intangible when not in use, his mandibles are folded inside his mouth, behind his teeth. So they can rub together and make noises at will 

☆ Sometimes Hyaku’s mandibles are unfolded out of his mouth by accident, usually through anger. 

While he doesn’t bother with an actual routine, Hyaku does take time in the morning to style his hair

When wet or unstyled, his hair would reach his shoulders. 

Hyaku’s design holds a lot of secret symbolism! He’s supposed to heavily resemble a chinese red-headed centipede, even down to the order of his colors 

His orange ahoges are supposed to be the orange antenna 

His sunglasses are not only supposed to look like big bug eyes, 

But are also the red of the red-headed centipede!

His yellow accents (the inside of his jacket, gloves, and boots), are the legs of the centipede 

All the grey + black on his clothes is the rest of the body 

Bonus, his side burns are supposed to resemble mandibles. 

Hyaku’s design is very top-heavy, especially around his torso. His shoulders are broad, but his waist and hips are narrow. 

His legs are also very long, made longer visually by his heels. 

Hyaku’s favorite food is meat, he’s incredibly carnivorous. 

His favorite kind of meat is, of course, human.

He also consumes bugs such as flies, cockroaches, spiders, crickets, and even other centipedes.

He doesn't mind maggots either; finding them in his meat is like a bonus to him.

Though he enjoys it raw, he's very talented when it comes to cooking and preparing meat

During a noise complaint inspection by the police, Hyaku once tricked Jack into eating human flesh he'd cooked

Hyaku’s spice tolerance is VERY HIGH, he often gets food as spicy as he can 

Despite being very physically able (High strength + energy + endurance), Hyaku would rather relax than do something physically exerting. 

^ Another reason he enjoys doing his job, because he gets to sit constantly!

Hyaku is incredibly flexible as well! 

He’s very agile and has a lot of control over his body. He does flips and cartwheels and wooooooh 

Hyaku has been in a couple romantic relationships throughout his life, though none of them meant anything to him. A mix of girls and guys. 

He’s even been married a few times! 

His first relationship as a human was with a girl

^ Her name was Chiyo. 

^ Chiyo was alive in 780 CE, so she has long passed. However, she did NOT die at the hands of Hyaku. 

Hyaku considers Chiyo “The one that got away”. 

Hyaku doesn’t sleep often. Mostly because he doesn’t care

This has resulted in his heavy eyebags, though he doesn’t care about them

^ he sometimes even highlights them with eyeliner

Hyaku would rather sleep at a time he should be awake (ex, work, when someone is talking to him), then during the night. 

On the rare occasion he is deeply asleep, Hyaku is a LOUD snorer. 

Hyaku is not above attacking children, but he doesn’t purposefully target kids for his cruelty. If he were to attack a child, it’s most likely to hurt someone else.  

Hyaku has social media! He mostly posts his tattoo artwork, pictures of his food, OOTDs, dancing, etc. He’s not afraid to put himself online. 

^ he would also ragebait a lot LMAO 

His phone would be as modern as it can be, with a bug charm hanging from it

Hyaku has Thanatophobia, or a fear of death. Hyaku cannot comprehend no longer existing, and the unknown of the afterlife scares him. 

Hyaku also has a small fear of projectiles, or things being thrown at him. You might see a small micro flinch if you raise your arm like you’re going to throw something. 

Hyaku usually fights with his hands/claws, or mandibles, but if given the choice of a weapon he’d pick a knife, or something bladed. 

He smells like gasoline, old blood, and citrus

Hyaku is not a morning person at all, he takes a good 30 minutes to get out of bed. 

He will always arrive late to things

Hyaku would dress up as a centipede for Halloween, and when asked would say he’s a “Human Centipede” 

That being said, Hyaku is not fond of holidays like Christmas, as he finds himself hungry of misery. He’s not a fan of the holly jolly >:( 

While Hyaku’s current job is as a tattoo artist, he’s had several jobs throughout the years

Between these jobs, he’d make money through conning people or simply thieving. 

His favorite job so far has been his current one, though

Hyaku can and will fake vulnerability. Whether in a new place where the people there don’t know him and will take pity on him, or with someone that would simply believe the lie.

☆ He’d fake vulnerability for multiple reasons, either to get something he wants or simply gain trust. 

He sometimes will fake being downed. For example, if shot, he’ll lay on the ground and play dead even though the bullet didn’t actually pierce him. This is just for fun. 

Hyaku is genuinely upset that he missed being a part of the black plague, but he did feel it happening, even all the way in Japan. Not enough to sustain or feed him, but enough to just know something was happening. 

Hyaku is a really ugly crier, though he doesn’t cry often. 

Hyaku doesn’t respect others' personal space, but will shove people away if they invade his. 

^ or if they’re just.. In his way. He shoves people a lot

Hyaku witnessed when Bob attacked Streber, but chose to watch from across the street rather than help

I have a pinterest board for Hyaku! 

I have a Spotify Playlist for Hyaku! He’s characterized mostly by unapologetically lustful and loud songs. 

If I had to pick just ONE song for Hyaku, I’d no doubt go with Centipede Legs by LuLuYam. 

LuLuYam’s upcoming song, Amalgamation, also has some chance of being a new Hyaku theme. Oooo….

Hyaku’s actual music taste would be a blend of rock and breakcore. Everything in between that. He has no patience for slow songs… 

Despite spending a lot of his existence in baggy clothing, Hyaku prefers skin-tight clothes as of the modern year. 

Even a winter outfit (which I’ll… design one day..) wouldn’t be very baggy.

The only baggy clothes he wears are his bedtime clothes, (Which I’ve drawn Here and Here!)

^ The Japanese on his bedtime clothes translates to “bug boy” 

I’ve accidentally trans-coded Hyaku a few times lmao 

Most notably when I joked that Hyaku would lay eggs, then later learned that only female centipedes lay eggs

Hyaku’s name went through a lot of different versions. His name could’ve been: Mukade (ムカデ); a literal direct translation of ‘centipede’, Kijiniku (生人肉); which translates to “raw human flesh”, or “demon flesh” in some contexts, and Uji (蛆); which is just directly translated to Maggot 

Hyaku’s design actually went through a lot of development. In REALLY early concepts he was PINK.

He also had squared glasses in his first sketches, which also featured itsnotmourn’s Winnie. Hi winnie ! 

He also originally had just one colored streak in his hair, back when it was just… hair. Now it’s his antenna so double it and give it to the next person. 

I also briefly considered giving Hyaku a braid in early concepts, like a thin braid that resembled a centipede. I think the idea is cool, but I’m glad I didn’t go with it, it would’ve gotten lost in his design and it gives off more “wise” vibes than Hyaku deserves. 

The first time I ever depicted Hyaku with his canon skintone was in Ponytown. Lmao. 

Realistically, Hyaku would have stretchmarks on his midsection. 

I always draw Hyaku’s extra arms just forming outside of his clothes, that’s not logical at all I just thought it was the easiest way to draw it. More logically I think his extra arms would slide under his shirt then pop out, leaving Hyaku in kind of a scrunched up, DIY crop top 

I also never draw his extra arms with clothing, not only because it made sense to me, but because it helped me remember which arms were the “original” lmao 

While Hyaku does ruin or destroy most relationships, he DOES enjoy having friends that are cruel like him. These bonds are rare.

Though rare, his love language is quality time. 

Hyaku doesn’t currently own any pets, but if he did he’d want something like a snake or a spider. 

I’ve always imagined Hyaku’s mode of transport (currently) being a motorcycle, which he is no doubt a show-off on.

Dogs and cats do not like Hyaku. Dogs will bark at him and cats will hiss at him. 

Hyaku lives in a home large enough to fit a family. He lives there by himself.

How he obtained this house is unclear.

It would be hinted that Hyaku murdered the previous owner(s) and took the house for himself.

Hyaku does not keep this house very clean, but it’s not horrible. Just enough to be trashy. 

If Hyaku had a canonical episode, it would be called “Centipede Legs”

If I had any musical talent, I’d make Hyaku his own soundtrack for the episode

…I’ve also come up with a few names of tracks on said soundtrack. 

His theme would contain subtle electric guitar, ofc.

His “....” theme would include quick staccato strings, like a centipede scuttling. 

Most of the Spooky Month villains die at the end of their episodes. If Hyaku were to die, it would be by an arrow to the head. 

Hyaku is not associated with the Spooky Month cult, but he is aware of them, and they’re aware of him. 

Hyaku sees the cult as a parade of human delusion

He doesn’t believe in The Eyes

Cultist characters can tell there’s something inhuman about Hyaku 

The cult has no reason to target Hyaku, and Hyaku is knows better than to purposefully bother them, they have a loose trust with each other

Hyaku's home also has a basement, where he hides most of his debauchery.

His basement often holds human captives, which Hyaku keeps to stay constantly fed at home. Theyoften die of starvation or blood loss.

His basement also holds freezers of human flesh.

☆ Inspired by the Kelly Affair music video, Hyaku’s basement would also hold kennels

The basement is padlocked from the outside, with a rug over it when not in use.

Hyaku’s basement is always a piece of lore I’m nervous to talk about, as I think it’s “too edgy” sometimes, but I feel as though it was important to establish how cruel Hyaku is.

To him, hosting people in his basement is similar to pickling your own cucumbers or growing your own food. 

for every note on this post... i will give one (1) Hyaku fact.

yes i am Fully copying what Mourn did awhile back, I REALLY WANT TO TALK ABOUT RANDOM STUFF <3 i didnt have enough Hyaku brainrot then but i do now

[bigdumbbambieyes]

slight nsfw

He’s drunker than he’d anticipated.

Not sloppy drunk, just…moving a little looser, his blinks long like a comfortable cat, bumping into things and smiling to himself because oops…

He didn’t expect to get this drunk but his heart was just ripped from his chest, so…

He hiccups softly and moves through the crowd, feeling stupid in his Halloween costume now that Nancy’s gone and now he just looks like some loner loser wearing sunglasses inside. At least they hide his red eyes.

Maybe he’d gone outside to cry, maybe he didn’t.

He pours himself another cup of whatever and turns to go back outside — and runs right into a bare chest.

“Woah, easy, tiger,” the new kid all but purrs, grabbing Steve’s arm to steady him.

Steve blinks hard behind his sunglasses and focuses his eyesight as best he can, furrowing his brows as he shrugs the blond off, muttering/pouting, “Go away.”

Those blue eyes are sizing him up now, a knowing look on that annoyingly handsome face (handsome?), before the guys says, “C’mon, let’s go outside,” and grabs Steve’s arm, pulling him towards the backyard.

God, why didn’t he just go home?

At least the cool October air feels nice on his hot skin, a nice change from the stifling indoor air. He leans against the railing on the deck and takes another sip of his drink, making a face as it hits his tongue and how can he still taste it when it’s basically burned off all his tastebuds?

“Saw your girl leave without you,” the blond hums, leaning against the railing with him, and Steve turns to look at him in the dim light, the yellow-orange glow from the house highlighting the other’s features even with his sunglasses on.

It’s like, kinda unfair, how someone can look this good.

God, what was his name again?

“It’s messed up, y’know,” the blond hums as he pulls out his pack of cigs and pulls one out, “Pretty boy like you? You should be the one breaking hearts.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve slurs softly, watching the other put a cigarette between his lips, eyeing the blond moustache there, how the flame of his lighter shows more of his face, and what was Steve talking about again?

“Well?” The blond breathes out his inhale of smoke, brows pinched gently.

“Well, what?” Steve mutters dumbly, blinking.

It makes the guy laugh, his eyes crinkling as he grins, showing off perfect teeth, too. Fuck him. How dare he.

“Man, you’re wasted,” the blond chuckles, shaking his head, his eyes landing on Steve again as he takes a long, slow inhale.

Is there tension? Steve can feel something in his stomach.

God, is he gonna puke in front of the hot new guy?

Wait, no. No way.

It’s butterflies. He swears it.

“Y’know,” the blond mumbles around the filter of his cigarette, taking a step closer to Steve, those blue eyes boring into his own even through the dark plastic, so close now Steve can smell his cologne and it’s kinda making his head spin in a good way.

“What?” Steve mumbles in return, almost scared of anyone else hearing him, even though it’s just them back here.

There’s a mischievous look on that handsome face as the blond hums, his tone low and slow, “I’d let you break my heart, again and again and again…”

Steve’s drink slips out of his hand and falls onto the deck, spilling between their feet. Fuck. His shoes.

But it’s whatever, because he makes the guy laugh again, although softer this time. Like Steve made him laugh.

He hasn’t made anyone laugh in a while.

“I got it,” the blond purrs, taking his cigarette from his mouth and holding it to Steve’s, and he takes it between his lips silently.

He receives another little smirk for that before the blond is bending down, grabbing the red cup from the floor but not standing right away, no.

Instead, he looks up at Steve, blue eyes sharp and maybe just a little glazed over from drinking, but there’s intent there.

And, well. Steve can’t help but to imagine other things the guy could be doing down there, on his knees.

It’s silent. The only sound is the party inside, muffled, and it’s definitely his raw emotions and neediness that’s mixed terribly with alcohol that makes Steve reach down and put his thumb on those pretty lips.

And he’s not sure what the blond’s thinking, but his lips part, and his tongue coaxes Steve’s thumb inside. It’s warm and wet and the guys sucks, like he would Steve’s cock, and it makes something lost but familiar tilt its head in Steve in consideration.

Oh, he hasn’t felt this in a while.

It feels good.

“What was your name again?” He asks as he pulls the cigarette from his mouth with his other hand, licking his lips to wet them as he curls his index finger under the blond’s chin, keeping his thumb firmly in place.

The blond’s eyes are half-lidded as he mutters his name around Steve’s thumb, his tongue smoothing along his fingerprint, “B’lly.”

“I think you got something in your mouth there,” he hums, smiling as Billy tries to pull away but he doesn’t let him, earning him a glare.

There’s a fire in Billy’s eyes that Steve could become obsessed with.

And he feels it as Billy bites, nothing to break skin, but it’s enough for Steve to pull his hand away with a sharp ‘ow’ and Billy’s immediately standing, crowding him against the railing.

He should feel afraid, or something, but he doesn’t. Just a burning pit inside his stomach, which only grows as Billy reaches and pushes his sunglasses up to the top of his head, their eyes connecting again.

“You wanna get outta here?” Billy asks, plucking his cigarette from Steve’s hand, taking a long drag.

It’s a loaded question, full of possibilities and options. Like he’s been given a second chance at something, and it’s thrilling.

So, he nods, and follows Billy.

[bowxs]

𝒮𝑜 𝐻𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓈𝒸𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓁

Summary - When Dean Winchester moves to yet another new town and is forced into his third new school of the year, he’s not expecting anything different from his past experiences. Until you.  When you're put under the pressure of being one of the most popular people in school, cheer captain, and honors student, you aren't willing to let anything get in the way of what you have been working so hard to build up. Until Dean. Dean doesn’t know how long he’ll be in this town, but damn if it isn't the first time he wishes he could stay- just to have a bit more time with you.

Warnings/Notes - highschool au, popular girl x newkid!dean, set in senior year, small talk about not having food at home, small mention about dieting/body image, mention of food restriction

Chapter 2

Dean Winchester. The boy who never stayed in one spot for more than two weeks. The boy whose life revolves around taking care of his not so little brother, listening to his dad, and making out with hot girls. The boy who never cared for what people thought of him, because nothing really mattered.

His first day at Jonesville High was a Wednesday. And he didn’t know it yet, but it would be the day his life changed.

“Sammy! Let’s go!” Dean called for his younger brother from the front door, looking around the small, dingy apartment for any sign of Sam nearby. Footsteps came closer, a very reluctant looking Sam came into view. His worn-down backpack was slung over one shoulder, his brown hair brushed messily over his forehead, and a way too sugary breakfast in his hand.

“I can’t believe dad is trusting you to actually get us to school on time” Sam mumbled with his mouth full as he slipped on his shoes, ignoring the way Dean shoved him out the door.

The school bell rang through the space, the sound of students settling into their seats filling the classroom. “Everyone welcome Dean- he will be joining us for the rest of the year” you heard Ms. Klark announce to the class as Dean gave a cocky smile to the first girl he saw- you. “Dean, why don’t you introduce yourself to the class?”

“My name’s Dean Winchester. I’m an Aquarius, I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and talking about my feelings.” His voice was sarcastic, that cocky grin never leaving his face. He shot a wink in your direction, like he knew you would like it.

You didn’t. Instead, you watched him almost carefully as he made his way to sit down next to you, because of course it was the only free desk in the whole class.

You tried to carry on with class as normal, but it was so damn hard with Dean leaning back in his chair with his legs spread like he already owned the place. His arm was slung over the back of your chair as you took notes on whatever the teacher was going on about this early in the morning. Physics. You tried hard in school, you had to - maintaining your high average was the only thing ensuring you kept your spot as cheer captain.

“Do you seriously understand this?” Dean leaned over, his voice a low whisper as he looked between your notes and you. “Yeah? What, you didn’t learn at your last school?” you whispered, your voice coming off dismissive. You weren’t willing to get into trouble because some idiot decided to start talking to you.

Dean scoffed at your words, like he was impressed you had any type of attitude. He doesn’t mention the fact he had only spent a week at his last school, or that he didn’t have the money to be paying for textbooks or tutors. He just laughs and shakes his head. “I guess not.”

You went back to taking notes, but most of your energy was spent ignoring the way Dean was staring at you like he was planning his next move. You hated it. Sure, you liked the attention from someone new, but you got enough attention from the whole school already- an extra person, much less a boy, would only get in the way.

“So where's your boyfriend, huh? Is he too dumb for this class or what?”. You scoffed, shaking your head as you highlighted something you thought was important. “No boyfriend.”

Dean gave you a sidelong glance, clearly not believing you, “Why not?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because I don’t need-”

“Mister Winchester- do you want to answer this question?” the teacher interrupted you two, giving Dean a warning look.

“I, uh-” he stuttered, clearly caught off guard by the teacher calling him out. You watched him hesitate, the cockiness temporarily leaving him. The notes on your desk caught your eye- they were the answers for the question the teacher just asked Dean. You sighed, gently nudging the notes in Dean’s direction. Curse you for being a nice person. He noticed, thankfully, and glanced quickly at them before finally answering.

“The answer is increasing. If you were to increase the mass of an object in motion, the net force required to keep it moving at the same rate of acceleration would increase.” Ms. Klark barely hid her surprise. She was quick to nod and turn back to the board, and you wished she would have kept going a little longer, just to stall having Dean talk to you again.

“Thanks for the help sweetheart, but I didn’t need it.” Dean was careful to keep his voice down, not wanting to aggravate the teacher again, but that cocky smirk was back on his face as you focused back on your notes.

“Uh huh. Just shut up, will you? Some people actually care about this stuff.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

You wanted to correct him- tell him that wasn't even close to your name and you definitely weren’t on a nickname basis- but the argument dies in your throat as the bell rings, signaling the first period is over. Finally. You couldn’t get out of there fast enough, your hands already moving to shove your notebooks into your backpack.

“What class is next?” Dean asked, not bothering with the rush of leaving class- he didn’t take anything out of his backpack anyways. “I have chemistry” your voice was a twinge annoyed, he did nothing but distract you and you couldn’t wait to get away.

“You mean we have chemistry.” that smirk was back on his face as he tried to correct you. “No, I mean I have chemistry class next period, not chemistry with you.”

“I know, sweetheart, I have chemistry next period too.”

Oh. That’s what he meant. You looked down, pretending to focus on packing your bag to hide the tint of embarrassment dusted on your cheeks.

“Looks like you're showing me around school today.” Dean commented, and you could hear his cockyness. He knew you were embarrassed about the misunderstanding. “Then you gotta keep up with me.”

Dean followed you through the halls, almost like a lost puppy. Almost- if it weren’t for him winking and smiling at any girl he made eye contact with. You thought he was too cocky for someone who just moved into the school, but god with a face like that he just barely got away with it.

You didn’t bother with the small talk or introducing him to the school, focused solely on making it to class without snapping at him for distracting you and almost getting you in trouble.

“You really don’t talk a lot, sweetheart.” He commented, watching you as you confidently walked through the hallways. “Not my name, Winchester.” you shot back.

“Not my point. Are you this quiet with everyone? You don’t seem like the type” he kept talking as he watched you wave to a couple people in the hallway. You definitely weren’t the quiet type. You were the epitome of popularity- you knew practically everyone in school, all the teachers loved to have you in their class, and the cheer captain pushed the stereotype even further.

“Maybe I just don’t like you.”

“Nobody dislikes me, sweetheart.”

“I dislike you” Dean scoffs like you just told him the worst lie ever, and shakes his head as you shoot him a pointed look over your shoulder.

“You can’t dislike me, you barely even know me” he tries to reason, a hint of humor in his voice as you guys enter the chemistry classroom. “C’mon, give a guy a chance, huh?” He keeps going, even as you find your way to your seat, watching him sit down next to you.

"I don't think 'this guy' needs a chance" you rolled your eyes at his remark, already moving to take your textbook out of your bag. "I think 'this guy' needs to find somewhere else to sit."

Being well known throughout school, maintaining your honours average, your spot as cheer captain, and the need for your parents approval- it never bothered you. It was just normal. You didn’t date because you had to focus. “future is more important than present, choose your priorities” is what your dad said, and you believed him.

Dean watched you as you got ready for the class, clearly not taking your words seriously. You didn't even know if you were taking your own words seriously. You wanted to- wanted to tell him to find a seat on the other side of class so you could focus and do what you would normally do- but something inside you stopped you from doing it.

"I don't really think you want me to move, swetheart." his voice was playful and cocky at the same time, and he was looking at you with a lopsided smirk.

"No, I'm just too nice to actually ask you to leave." you sighed, already trying to focus on the board, which was getting increasingly difficult with Dean staring at the side of your face. Damn him. "Whatever, just stay quiet this class, okay? I don't need you being the reason I fail."

Dean doesn't comment on the way you seem way to smart to fail anything, even with him talking. He doesn't comment on anything during the whole class, instead keeping himself busy with his own thoughts.

My name’s Dean Winchester. I’m an Aquarius, I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and talking about my feelings to this girl.

"Sammy- I swear this chick is totally into me!" Dean beamed as his hands drummed a familiar rhythm on the wheel of the impala. The day had gone amazing in his eyes- he got a few girls numbers, kissed one or two of them, and met you. You were the most important part of his day.

"Uh-huh, I'm sure she is" Sam's voice was tired, clearly not having as good of a day as Dean. "Do we have dinner at home? I'm starving."

Dean ignored the way his stomach grumbled at the thought of food, focusing on Sam instead. "Nah, but I'll stop by the gas station for you, alright? Can't have you staying this short forever."

"How was your day, honey?" your mother asked from across the table, the sound of utensils on plates finally being interrupted- even if it was with awkward small talk. Dinners weren't often filled with conversation, unless it was about your grades or upcoming cheer competitions you would need to attend. You just weren't a close family, and that was okay.

"It was alright," you dismissed, playing around a bit with the food on your plate. "there's a new kid that just moved here." you mumbled before taking a bite of your food, trying to ignore the way your mom watched you lift the fork to your mouth.

"A new kid? This late into the school year? How odd." Your mom commented, still watching you eat with her brows furrowed a bit. She cleared her throat before she spoke up again, not bothering to look at you this time. "Remember that diet coach said you should stick to, honey. Don't need him to up your training again"

"Yeah, mom. Can't forget."

The next few days were like a broken record. Everyday, Physics, Chemistry, English, then History. And everyday, it was the same “Hey sweetheart.” over and over. You got used to it eventually- it was like a new, slightly annoying routine that you found yourself growing fond of every time he said it.

The day you first met Dean Winchester was on a Wednesday, and you didn’t know it yet, but he would change your life.

a/n- im soso nervous to post this but gosh, this idea has been brewing for everr and i just had to get it out, especially after a few anon reqs to have this be made!! im hoping to have multiple parts to this fic, and i can't wait to see where this takes me <33

i dont know if anyone will want this, BUT if you want to be tagged for the next chapter, comment and say you want to!

[katsukilvr]

drummer!katsuki notices their die hard fan, reader. ༄ BAND + COLLEGE AU,female reader, quirks don’t exist in this AU, shotoxsero, minaxkirishima, jirouxdenki, reader smokes,author doesn’t smoke so not accurate, so does bakugo, swearing, suggestive ༄ pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4 (the end)

dynamight.is.the.best started following you.

you furrowed your brows. you blink. you blink again, wondering if this was some sort of dream or a figment of your imagination.

dynamight?!

you clicked on the profile, checking if it was some fan account. you knew he had his fair share of fanpages, like every musician does, but this one was strange. no profile picture. no bio. no mutuals other than shoto. he had just a bit of followers. the next natural thing was to call shoto and ask who it was? and confirm if it was actually him before you started freaking out.

the phone rang once. twice.

“y/n!! hey what’s up?” he answered, he was somewhere loud, like a restaurant, you could tell. “hey—uh—where are you right now? i got a question.” you said closer to the microphone so he could hear you. “i’m out with sero, mina, and kirishima.” he said, nodding his head as if you could see him. “oh, sorry! really quickly, who’s this? they just followed me on instagram and i don’t know if it’s a fan account or..” you said, trailing off as you sent him a screenshot of the profile.

“oh yeah, that’s bakugo!” he said, laughing softly, knowing how much he’s your favorite. “bakugo?! like katsuki bakugo?!” you laughed, kind of shocked. “yeah.” he chuckled back. “well i’ll leave you alone for now, call me later.” you say, hanging up after he said bye.

“byee.” he called out in a sing-songy way as you hung up. he put his phone down, looking back up at his friends confused faces. “oh that was y/n, i think katsuki finally followed her on instagram.” he laughed softly, shaking his head.

“seriously? that’s great!” kirishima laughed.

“finally. he’s been obsessed with her for the longest time—just can’t admit it.” mina exclaimed, running a hand through her pink hair.

“yeah, he’s been asking me about her for the longest time, man.” he laughed, shaking his head.

“at least he finally grew the balls to do something, saw him talking to her earlier.” sero said, slurping up some pasta infront of him, before changing the subject.

back to you.

you were staring at your phone. at the notification. how did he find you? i mean, it’s not like you were incredibly private, you had a small following on instagram and you’d frequently post, but you didn’t think you were easy to find. you guess it was just that he searched your name in, but that meant he searched. for you. he searched for you.

you didn’t know why but you felt giddier than you were supposed to.

you followed him back, or atleast requested to follow him back since he had a private account and he accepted almost 10 minutes later.

it was time to snoop. (if he even had anything posted.)

you clicked on the anonymous pfp, visiting the profile, sighing in relief when he had 4 posts up, a couple of highlights, and one story.

you clicked the story first and gasped, a huge bicep meeting your eyes. you could see a bit of his chest but he was flexing his arms, that was definitely the main focus. god, he looked so good. this gym picture made your thighs clench, your heart flutter and skip a beat. it’s almost like he knew you were gonna see it.

katsuki was a confident man. he knew he was talented. he knew he was handsome. so he had no problem when he found your account a couple hours ago, and planned to post a gym photo, knowing he was gonna follow you after the show, so it didn’t seem intentional that he posted for you, but everyone else knew.

they knew cause suddenly, he was active on social media, suddenly he was posting more pictures of him, more photos of his friends, and what he likes to do, all for you.

their next show was next week, saturday, and he wanted you backstage. badly. but you didn’t know him like that, and he didn’t know you like that. at least with todoroki, him and sero were together and he knew him from highschool, but you? you were sort of unknown, you were ‘shoto’s friend’ or ‘that one fan’ to them. he couldn’t justify to his friends that he wanted to invite you backstage without admitting to everyone that he was interested in you. as if they didn’t know already.

he had a plan, he was gonna come up to you again after their next show, just like he did this time, and invite you to their usual get together after the shows. the only reason he didn’t was because he had an exam tomorrow, and needed the sleep. so he did, he slept knowing you followed him back, and saw his story.

truth be told, this week couldn’t go by slower. for both of you. college classes and work were taking a toll on you and the only thing willing you through these days was the concert on saturday.

once saturday rolled by, you were excited. with katsuki’s money, you got to bring a friend with you, your coworker, ochaco. you both met up an hour before the show, getting dressed all pretty as you did your makeup, putting on a ton of jewelry like you always did, with a pretty little skirt and that t-shirt of theirs with bakugo’s signature on the back. you took a couple photos and tagged ochaco in a story on your instagram.

you hurriedly got in an uber, taking pictures and talking about whatever was on your guys’ minds.

again, you were front row with her, screaming your hearts out and having fun, a night to remember. ochaco had found some girl and got whisked away with her, leaving just you, like you usually were by the end of the night.

you were in the same spot as last week, pulling out your phone to call for an uber, shivering in the winter air when you felt fabric envelope you from behind. it smelt nice, almost sweet like caramel, but it also had this cologne, an expensive scent it was, one that made your knees weak. it was also really warm, but not the only reason heat was coursing through your body. you turned to see who it was, already having your suspicions.

“hey.” katsuki smiled down at you, wrapping his jacket around you. “take this, you’ll catch a cold.” he said with a gruff, but soothing voice. you thanked him, smiling back at him and nodding as you pulled the jacket onto yourself more. “you were amazing up there.” you said, tilting your head and averting your gaze. “thanks, pretty.” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “you had someone with you tonight, who was that girl?” he asked, trying to spark a conversation. “oh, that’s my friend, ochaco, she’s real sweet. she works with me.” you explained, your cheeks still flushed from the name/compliment he called you earlier.

conversation between the two of you flowed incredibly easily, and before you knew it, 15 minutes had gone by of the two of you just talking.

“hey y/n.. did you wanna join us for dinner? it’s tradition for us to get food after concerts.” he asked, scratching the back of his neck, all of a sudden nervous you were gonna say no.

“yeah, of course!” you said, grabbing your phone and cancelling the uber you ordered, and almost right on time, his friends had left the backstage area, beckoning them over to get in the car.

you said hi to everyone, following them to the car and getting in beside shoto, talking to him about the show, ochaco, and bakugo. once you guys parked, everyone got out and started walking towards the restaurant. you and bakugo trailed behind the group, just chatting, the energy between the two of you electric. you sat together in the restaurant, and only talked to each other and it felt like everyone else around you guys disappeared when you both talked, the candlelight flickering across his face beautifully as you rested your head on you hand, eating up every word that fell from his lips and since you didn’t have work tomorrow, you had a couple more glasses of wine then usual before you all had to leave.

“do you need a ride home?” katsuki asked, looking down at you. you nodded, swaying as you stood, your walking kind of faltering so he slipped his arm around your waste, keeping you stable as he led the two of you to the car.

as he drove the both of you home, he let you rest, he didn’t expect anything of you, no talking, no flirting like you guys have been all night, no nothing. he just wanted you home safe, and he wanted to be the one to do that.

“you know, your nice lookin’” you slurred slightly, staring at him as he drove.

he glanced your way, chuckling lowly, in a way that made you squirm in your seat. “yeah?” he murmured, “i think your nice looking too, y/n.” he said, his eyes on the road but he could feel your eyes burning into him. you thanked him with a giggle, finally taking your eyes off him and looking out the window.

“you know what photo i always wanted?” you spoke up, glancing at him.

“hm?” he hummed in response, paying attention to the road.

“have you seen the ones where the girl hangs her head out the window and leans back?” you laughed softly, looking at him like he hung the moon.

he chuckled, nodding. “yeah, i’m familiar, why? you want one?” he asked, whipping out his phone already.

“will you? thank you, katsukii…!” you say, rolling down the window, giggling and laughing and you stuck your head out and leaned it back, the wind blowing through your hair. it was exhilarating and you could hear camera clicks and see the camera flashes as he took multiple photos while still staying attentive to the road, laughing along with you.

you didn’t know until the next morning, but he had posted one of those photos on his story with the song, the only exception by paramore playing in the background of it.

you eventually sit back down in your seat, your hair messy as you laughed softly, asking to see the photos, sending yourself the good ones by putting your number in, a cheeky way into giving him your number.

he laughed along with you.

“your beautiful.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

before you knew it, he was pulling into the driveway of your apartment buildings and walking you up.

you invited him in, and he followed, only to make sure you were nice, warm, and safe. you changed into your pajamas as he waited in your living room. he practically tucked you in, putting your phone to charge, leaving a glass of water on your night stand along with some painkillers and left when you fell asleep, he tucked your hair behind your ear before leaving, needing to get back home.

he dmed you later that night for you to see in the morning.

“sorry i left, y/n. i had to get home to my dog.”

“forgive me?”

he sent with a link to backstage tickets to their next show, with meal and drinks included, all paid for, for next sunday.

sorry this took so long.. i would’ve posted this by 7PM if my phone didn’t die before i could save the draft for the og version.. </3

tags: @lillyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

[headkiss]

non bau! reader suggestion! : librarian! reader!!! oh how i love librarian! reader...

-🪲

tysm for your request!! <3 | 0.8k words, r wears a dress and is referred to as she twice

As a library assistant, you’re used to receiving phone calls. Turning on your customer service voice, answering questions, wishing them a nice day, hang up, repeat.

It’s one of the main things you do, stationed at the desk for most of the day until there are enough returns on the cart to put away. You’ve already answered four calls this morning. Easy ones, at least, about whether or not you have a book in stock or your hours.

It’s the fifth phone call that surprises you completely.

“Hi, my name is Spencer Reid, I’m with the FBI.” is what the voice on the other side of the phone says to you when you pick up.

“Oh! Um. How can I help you?”

“We’re working on a case here, and I’m looking for a book that might help us. Would you be able to see if you have it in stock?”

“Yeah! Yes, of course. It’s what I’m here for.”

“I’m looking for a copy of Wuthering Heights. It would have been checked out and returned recently, probably by a white male.”

Your stomach sinks a little. “Is that the, uh, guy you’re looking for?”

“He might be,” Spencer says. Then, as if he can sense your spike of fear, “Let us worry about that, you focus on the book.”

“Right,” you flex your fingers and turn to your computer, pulling up the records. “Yes, it looks like a copy was checked out on Monday and returned.. yesterday evening.”

“Would you be able to set that aside for me?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you so much,” he says, then the line clicks.

You keep the phone in your hand for a moment, grasping on to the fact that someone the literal FBI is looking for might have been here just yesterday. Hell, you might have even spoken to him before.

Just as you snap yourself out of it and set the phone down, the front door is pushed open, a gentle breeze ruffling the pages of the books nearby. Through it walks a man wearing a sweater vest over a button up, a tie around his neck. His hair gets ruffled by the wind, too.

“Hi, I’m Spencer. We spoke on the-” he pauses when he looks at you, his eyes flitting across your face to your nametag and back up. His voice is quieter when he finishes “-phone.”

It’s then that you notice the credentials he has clutched in his hand. “Hi! That was faster than I expected.”

“The precinct is just around the corner,” he says.

You nod. “Let me just go grab that book for you.”

Spencer watches you go, your dress sweeping against your thighs as you slip out from behind the counter and into the aisles. He rocks back and forth on his feet, fidgeting with the hem of his sweater.

When you come back, Wuthering Heights in hand and cardigan slipping off your shoulder, he almost forgets why he’s there in the first place.

“Here it is,” you say, walking up to him, the book held out in front of you.

“Thank you,” he takes it from you, fingertips brushing yours.

You scan his face, and he looks so gentle, so sweet, that you let your curiosity slip out. “Can I ask why you need a book to solve your case?”

“We think the unsu- the man we’re looking for might have left a clue behind in it.”

“Like, a highlighted passage or something?”

“Exactly like that.”

“Defacing library books and wanted by the FBI… this guy really sucks.”

Spencer laughs. A quick, surprised thing that makes you smile, too.

“I hope it helps you find him,” you say.

“Me too. Thanks again,” Spencer says, looking at your nametag again and then letting it slip from his lips. “I’ll bring it back as soon as we’re done.”

“You don’t need to do that,” you say. “It’s considered damaged and, well, I’d rather not have a book read by a killer on the shelves.”

Spencer nods, saying yet another soft ‘thank you’ before heading out the door.

He slides into the passenger seat of the SUV (he would have walked to the library but they were kind of in a rush, active killer and all), and Morgan is immediately suspicious. “What took you so long, pretty boy?”

“She had to find the book,” Spencer says, clearing his throat.

“Oh, okay. Weren’t getting your flirt on or anything, huh?”

“I wasn’t- she was nice.” Spencer can feel his cheeks warming. He hopes Derek doesn’t notice as they pull out onto the street.

He knows you said not to return the book, but Spencer thinks he’ll bring it back anyways. Eidetic memory works better on printed words and images, after all. Maybe he’ll just.. forget.

[kxsagi]

Can i request reader putting on makeup on those Giant plushies and sending them to the bllk men and saying "look at how beautiful you look such a beautiful princess" GBSHSBSBAHA

“𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩, 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐬”

a/n: YES THIS REQUEST IS SO CUTE AND FUNNY OMG (had too much fun here)

i decided to use the same characters as the ones from the “me, my partner and their four foot tall plush of me” post!

ft. shidou ryusei, itoshi sae, itoshi rin, isagi yoichi, kaiser michael

shidou ryusei

he walks in mid-sentence like “babe have you seen my –” and pauses. 

the four-foot tall plush version of him is sitting on the couch. it has a full face of glam makeup, glittery eyeshadow, rhinestones, and a pink bow on its head. 

you’re crouched in front of it, lovingly whispering, “you’re such a beautiful princess, look at you… the prettiest shidou there ever was.” 

dead silence. 

suddenly: “YO. IS THAT LIP GLOSS? DID YOU USE THE GOOD ONE?!” 

grabs the plush like he’s found a long-lost sibling. “SHE’S BEAUTIFUL. SHE’S MAJESTIC. SHE COULD KILL A MAN.” 

does a spin with the plush in his arms. dips it like he’s in dancing with the stars. 

“she’s everything i’ve ever wanted to be… and more.” 

later tries to do the same makeup on himself but somehow ends up looking like a possessed drag queen. 

“still hot though, right?” 

you: “you look like you lost a bet.” 

shidou: “hell yeah i did. to the prettiest bitch in this house: me 2.0.” 

itoshi sae

you hear him walking down the hall. you rush to put blush on plush! sae’s cheeks. 

just as you’re brushing it on: “what are you doing?” 

you jump. he’s there. in the doorway. expressionless. 

plush! sae is wearing a flower crown and has lip tint, soft eyeshadow, and perfectly feathered brows. 

“you look beautiful, princess,” you say with a smile, patting its head. 

sae: “that thing is four feet of emotional damage.” 

walks over slowly. crouches. stares the plush down. 

“why does it look better rested than me?” 

you: “because she drinks water and minds her business.” 

sae: “she also has highlighter on her collarbone.” 

you nod solemnly. “she glows from within.” 

he takes a picture of it. you think it’s for memes. 

later find out he made it his lock screen but zoomed in on the flower crown so you wouldn’t know. 

plush mysteriously disappears two days later. you find it in his closet with makeup wiped off and a sticky note taped to its chest: “be normal.”

itoshi rin

rin sees it from across the room and freezes. 

“what the hell is that.” 

“a princess,” you reply, holding the plush’s hand lovingly. 

it’s wearing eyeliner sharper than his cleats, a glossy lip, and a tiara. 

rin: “is that my team jersey cut into a miniskirt...” 

you: “she’s fashionable.” 

rin stands in front of the plush and stares at it like it owes him money. 

“her name is riniella.” 

“kill me.” 

he starts ranting about how it’s weird, unhinged, and possibly illegal, but halfway through he stops mid-sentence: 

“wait… why does her winged liner look better than yours?” 

he smirks at your deadpan face. walks away like he didn’t just gaslight AND instigate a makeup battle. 

you catch him later watching a makeup tutorial on his phone with headphones in. 

plush! rin stays seated on the couch, silently judging both of you. 

isagi yoichi

the second he sees it, he yells. like, anime-character-scream. 

“WAAHHHHHHH WHAT HAPPENED TO ME?!” 

the plush has rosy cheeks, a sparkly lip, and eyeliner with stars at the corners. 

“you’re a princess now, yoichi. embrace your beauty.” 

he clutches his head like he’s having an existential crisis. 

“i look… kind of good. is this how it feels to be… divine?” 

you: “yes, queen.” 

sits next to the plush and whispers, “we’re one now.” 

you try to take a picture of them together but he blocks the camera like, “no paparazzi!” 

gives the plush a little pep talk before every match: “yoichina, this one’s for us.” 

once brought the plush into the bathroom and came out with matching headbands for the both of them. 

“we’re exfoliating today.” 

you: “you’re taking this too far.” 

isagi: “no such thing when you’re royalty.” 

kaiser michael

sees the plush with a flower clip in its hair, rhinestone eyeliner, a pearl choker, and lip gloss so shiny you can see your reflection. 

stunned pause. 

then he smirks. 

“of course i look good. even stuffed me is flawless.” 

leans down and dramatically bows to the plush. “your majesty.” 

then turns to you: “you’re jealous, aren’t you?” 

“jealous of what?” 

“of how good we look. the power is insane.” 

he starts doing photoshoots with the plush. 

“get my good side. now her good side. now both of us doing kissy lips.” 

eventually tries to recreate the look on himself. spends two hours in front of the mirror. 

comes out with glitter in his hair and rhinestones on his cheekbone like he’s going to coachella. 

“if she’s the princess, i’m the entire royal court.” 

you: “you literally put on blush for a plush.” 

kaiser: “yeah, and i served harder than any makeup artist in this country. bow to the king and queen.”

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[ilovekkarnolds]

“Why You Always Got an Attitude?”

UConn!Paige Bueckers x Teammate!Reader

Description: You and Paige Bueckers argue like it’s a sport—petty, loud, and way too often. But after one late-night practice turns into something more, ignoring her stops being so easy.

Divider: @cursed-carmine

That little smug grin she always had on. That fake innocent voice she used when she was really being shady. The way she acted like she wasn’t the biggest name on campus but still got every door opened for her. Every pass from professors. Every retweet. Every little TikTok with her corny voiceovers getting millions of likes while you out here grinding for half the recognition.

And the worst part? She knew you ain’t like her… and she thought it was funny.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she smirked at you as she passed you in the locker room, her hair still wet from practice, UConn hoodie halfway off her shoulder like she just accidentally looked like a Pinterest board.

You didn’t even look up from your phone. “Die.”

“Awww. You missed me,” she said with that fake lil pout, reaching out to flick the back of your ear as she walked off.

You sucked your teeth and turned to your homegirl Jana. “Bro… why she always in my face?”

Jana just laughed. “Lowkey you love it.”

“Please.”

But deep down? Yeah… okay. Maybe she was kinda cute. On a good day. When she wasn’t running her mouth.

⸻

The Problem Started With That Damn Study Group

You wasn’t even supposed to be in there. But your academic advisor had pulled you aside, talking about “keeping eligibility” and “grade check” and “maybe partner with someone academically strong.”

Next thing you know? Paige sitting right across from you at a library table. Hoodie up, glasses on (that she did NOT need—like girl, you play basketball, you don’t read for real), and legs stretched all the way out like she paid rent for both sides of the table.

“Hey, partner,” she grinned.

You groaned. “Please don’t start.”

The first hour was cool. Quiet. Focused. You did your notes. Paige did hers. You halfway started thinking maybe she’d stay out your way.

Then she started doing that thing where she tapped her pen against the table every five seconds. Humming under her breath. Typing loud as hell. Bumping your leg with hers on purpose.

By the time she reached over and stole your highlighter, you slammed your notebook shut.

“I will literally swing on you.”

Paige leaned back in her chair, smiling like she loved the chaos. “I’m just tryna get close. Why you so mean?”

“You’re annoying.”

“You’re cute when you mad.”

Silence.

You blinked.

She blinked.

Jana, who had been sitting behind y’all fake-studying, damn near choked on her water. “Oh—OH?!”

You grabbed your stuff and walked out before you did something stupid.

⸻

It Got Worse at the Party

Somebody’s birthday. One of the football boys. The whole women’s basketball team was there, scattered in different corners, taking shots, dancing, arguing over dumb stuff. You showed up cute, in your little skims dress with your hair done nice and long. and your lip gloss poppin’. You wasn’t here for Paige, but when you walked in and saw her standing by the speakers in a black fit with a slick back bun and a silver robe chain on… yeah. You noticed.

And she noticed you noticing.

It started off petty. Every time you walked past her, she stared too long. Every time she laughed at somebody’s joke, she looked over to check if you were looking. She stood behind you during a group photo and put her hand on your waist like it was normal.

You was fake ignoring her the whole night… until you caught her talking to some girl from the volleyball team.

That’s when the switch flipped.

You grabbed your drink, walked right past them, and just happened to laugh extra loud at something Jana said… tossing your hair like you was in a music video.

Paige peeped it.

Later that night, when you were sitting on the porch trying to cool off, she came outside.

“You really got an attitude tonight, huh?”

You rolled your eyes. “Do I know you?”

She stepped closer. Smelling like Hennessy and Dior. “You act like you don’t, but you do.”

Silence.

Neither of y’all moved.

Then she hit you with the, “Say you don’t like me to my face.”

You sucked your teeth. “I don’t like you.”

She licked her lips, leaned down right next to your ear. “Liar.”

Then she walked back inside, leaving you sitting there looking dumb.

⸻

The Night It Finally Happened

It had been building for weeks. More flirting. More arguing. More tension.

After practice, you stayed late working on free throws. Paige stayed late too. Said she needed to shoot threes, but really? She barely took five shots. She just kept watching you from the corner.

“Your form off,” she said after your third missed free throw.

“Mind your business.”

She grabbed the ball before you could. “Lemme show you.”

You snatched it back. “I’m good.”

“Scared to let me touch you?”

That was it.

You shoved her. Not too hard but enough to say “stop playing with me.”

Next thing you knew, she shoved you back. Then y’all were chest to chest. Then she kissed you.

No warning. No slow build. Just hands on your face, her lips on yours, and your knees damn near giving out on the baseline.

You kissed her back harder than you should’ve.

⸻

The Aftermath

It didn’t make sense.

Y’all was still arguing every day. Still throwing shade on Instagram stories. Still fake ignoring each other in the hallway just to end up texting at midnight like:

Paige: “You still hate me?”

You: “Yeah.”

Paige: “Pull up.”

Now you here, laying in her bed, scrolling through TikTok while she sleeps next to you with her arm slung over your waist like she ain’t just been the most annoying human alive for the past month.

Jana texted you:

“So y’all dating or nah?”

You typed back:

“idk. shut up

And when Paige shifted in her sleep, nuzzling into your neck with a sleepy little, “Stop moving… come here,” you smiled to yourself.

Hating her was easier.

But this?

This was kinda fun too.

END.

You guys asked for paigeee here ya gooooo, hope u guys liked it!!

[minisugakoobies]

Match My Freak | JWW

Pairing: Voyeur!Wonwoo x Reader

Genre: smut, non-idol!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: non-consensual voyeurism, dirty talk, non-consensual use of camera/recording, masturbation (f), use of sex toy (vibrator), mentions of masturbation (m), mentions of oral sex (f receiving), cumming in pants, unreliable narrator, Wonwoo is not a good guy here (ymmv)

Word Count: 1.8k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own SVT - they just inspire me

Summary: Your neighbor loves it when you put on a show for him.

A/N: Yeah so... I just like the thought of a Wonwoo who likes to watch. 🤷‍♀️

🚨 IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH NON-CONSENSUAL VOYEURISM, DO NOT READ! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. DO NOT COMPLAIN TO ME - YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU CHOOSE TO READ. 🚨

Unbeta’d as usual. If you like this, please let me know! I’d love to hear what you think (but please be kind I’m fragile 🥺) 💕

SVT Masterlist 💜 Main Masterlist

The sun’s beginning to set when Wonwoo takes his seat in the ratty old armchair by the open window. He removes his glasses, carefully wiping them clean with a cloth he pulls from his pocket before placing them back on his nose. He’s a little early tonight, but it’s fine. He’ll wait. He’s a patient man. 

The minutes fall away like dominoes, each one ticking into the next. The sun dips lower, casting dark shadows over the alley that separates his apartment building from the one next door. A flicker catches the corner of his eye and turns to look, gazing into the window directly across from his bedroom. As he sits quietly, patiently drumming his fingers on the soft cushioning of the chair, a figure enters the room.

Wonwoo has loved you from the moment he first saw you. It’s been a little over six months since you moved in across the way. In all that time, he hasn’t learned what you do or where you’re from or even what your full name is. But it’s fine. None of that matters. 

He’s sure you were made for him.

You walk around your bedroom, following the same well-worn path that you do every evening. Disappearing into your bathroom and emerging a few minutes later in a silky bathrobe. Sitting at the vanity to attend to your skincare routine, gently massaging your beautiful skin with rich creams and moisturizers. Wonwoo appreciates the way you care for yourself. He likes that you have your nightly rituals. He has his own, too.

He reaches for his camera.

It’s late summer, the time of year when there’s no relief to be found at night, the air just as warm and suffocating as it is during the day. Sweat prickles on Wonwoo’s forehead, but he ignores it. He’s glad your landlord is as cheap as his. Air conditioning units would only make this difficult for him. He’d figure it out, of course, but it wouldn’t be as easy as it is now. 

Sometimes he thinks it’s a sign from the universe, how easy this is. Proof that the two of you are meant to be.

He brings his camera to his eye, playing with the focus, until the pretty face reflected in the vanity mirror is perfectly clear. Click-click-click goes the shutter, the only sound that can be heard in Wonwoo’s bedroom, other than his heavy breathing. 

His room is pitch black around him. Wonwoo’s always been comfortable with darkness. It hides all manner of sins. It hides him from your view on nights like this, even when you walk over to your window to lift the sash. A light breeze ruffles the bottom of your bathrobe, exposing more of your thighs to Wonwoo’s hungry eyes. His finger strokes the shutter button again. 

You undo the belt of your bathrobe, letting it fall open, and Wonwoo captures the reveal of the sheer babydoll chemise beneath. It skims the tops of your thighs, not quite covering the matching pair of panties you wear with it. Wonwoo’s gaze roams over your body, admiring the way the clingy material highlights your skin. He loves when you dress up for him. You never bring anyone home. Who else are you wearing these things for, if not him?

Of course, you’ve never acknowledged his presence. That’s part of your game, isn’t it? To display yourself for him but never look at or talk to him. Put on a show but never react to him taking your photo or touching himself. 

He’s very good at playing your game. After all, he wants to win. 

You’re a worthy prize.

You recline on your bed, propped up against a stack of pillows, and start scrolling on your phone. As he watches, shutter clicking, your free hand slides down your torso. Your fingers curl, pressing into your covered pussy, rubbing in slow circles. Oh. Wonwoo swallows thickly. 

It’s one of those nights. 

Silently, he puts his camera down again. Locates the button that switches from photo to video. And clicks it. 

The red light flickers on. 

Wonwoo quickly brings the camera back to his eye, practically cracking his glasses in the process. He fixes the focus, aiming the lens at the hand between your legs. As you start to caress harder, your legs part slightly, giving him a clearer view of your panties. The tiniest swirls of lace are visible to his eye, as is a growing wet spot. He silently thanks the universe that he splurged on an expensive camera model. 

Your nightgown is rumpled up around your waist as you press your hand more firmly against your cunt. It isn’t enough, judging by how you dip your fingers beneath your panties to glide over your slit.

“Come on, baby.” Wonwoo wasn’t planning on adding narration to this recording, but the words slip out anyway, in a low, urgent tone. “Slide them in.” He zooms in again, on the wetness gleaming on your fingertips. 

He’s disappointed when you pull your hand away, but that feeling is short-lived when he sees what you’ve reached for - the bright red toy that you keep under your pillow. It’s long and thick and Wonwoo feels his cock jump at the thought of it spreading you open. 

He could use it to help stretch you for him. 

Swiftly, rather desperately, you shimmy your panties down your legs, and Wonwoo’s mouth floods with saliva, nearly choking him as he stares entranced at your bare pussy. He wants to put his lips on it, kiss it until you’re squirming, pleading for him to slide his tongue inside. You’d make such a beautiful mess of his face. 

His earlier impatience is forgotten now as you work yourself up, dipping the tip of the vibrator in and out of your soaking folds, the quickening rise and fall of your chest letting Wonwoo know how much you’re enjoying teasing yourself. By the time the toy disappears into your cunt, Wonwoo’s just as breathless himself, and hard as a rock. 

“Yeah, just like that,” he murmurs, adjusting his lens again to capture the deft movement of your hand. “Fuck yourself for me.” For him, just him, and no one else. 

As if obeying his very command, your hand moves faster, and your mouth drops open in a pleasured gasp. Wonwoo groans. If only he could record the sounds you’re making, too. But you’re not loud enough for his camera to pick them up from here. 

He clucks his tongue. There’s no way he’ll accept such weak noises when he’s the one fucking you. He’ll coax loud cries from you any way he can. 

Your body undulates like a wave, hips canting as you plunge the toy deeper, and something inside Wonwoo snaps. There’s too much distance between you right now. With an aggravated huff, he slips off the chair, kneeling in front of his window. He lets his camera rest on the window sill as he lines up his shot. It’s better. But it’s not enough.

He needs to be closer.

As quietly as he can, he clambers out onto the fire escape. 

He’s taking a risk by being out here. There are no lights in the alley, but the glow of the moon is bright. That doesn’t stop him. He moves silently, crouching against the chipped metal railing, camera peeking through the slots, closing the distance between you as much as he can. 

For now, anyway.

His grip on the camera turns to iron. He’d rather fall off this fire escape than drop it. He glances around the alley, double checking that there’s no one else around. Once he’s reassured that it’s just you, him, and the moonlight, he refocuses - first his mind, then the lens. 

His breathing quickens as the toy slides into your folds again and again. He’s never envied an inanimate object more. He licks his lips, imagining the taste of you on his tongue. You’re not sweet, he’s sure of that. There’s nothing sweet about you, the way you tease him, leaving your curtains open like this. Inviting him to watch. 

Tempting him to do more.

His cock strains against the fly of his jeans, and he drops a hand to his crotch to squeeze himself, biting back a moan. Desire overwhelms him, but he can’t risk jerking off out here. The absolute last thing in the fucking world that he needs right now is to get caught. That would fuck up his plans. That would destroy him.  

Your other hand plays with your breasts, pushing your babydoll up until one is exposed, thumb rolling over and around the nipple. Wonwoo pictures himself there, lying beside you, head bent to take your other nipple in his mouth. He’s not sure he’d be able to hold himself back and allow you to finish yourself off. His fingers twitch at the thought of taking the toy from you and fucking you with it, through orgasm after orgasm, until you’re both drenched in sweat and exhausted.

He shoves the fantasy aside for later and retrains his steady gaze on your motions. He grips himself again when you start to pump the toy in and out faster. Your hips rise to meet each thrust, and Wonwoo might ruin his boxers at the sight. Fuck, he can see through the zoom how soaked the insides of your thighs are. He palms his erection slowly, trying to give himself just the slightest bit of pleasure, not enough to tip it over, only enough to feel good, and that’s when you start to come. 

As he gawks open-mouthed into the lens, your pretty pussy swallows the tip of the toy one last time. Then your hand suddenly lets go, grabbing a fistful of sheets instead. You shudder and writhe, and Wonwoo nearly drops his camera as he loses control too, the wet warmth of his cum spreading in his pants. 

Doubled over on the fire escape and breathing hard, it takes him a moment to regain his composure. Once he’s recovered, he stops the recording, and lifts the camera to his eye again to take another look. You haven’t moved from your bed, but you did remove the toy, and now have one hand tracing lazy circles around your clit. He wonders if you’re going to go again. Some nights you seem insatiable, seeking your high with a fervor that gives him chills to recall.

He’ll make sure you get your fill, when it’s time. 

For now, he’ll keep on watching. 

He’s always been a patient man. 

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

© 2024 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.

[fuddaroundandgetbueckets]

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

A Long Time Coming Part 4 - Paige's Birthday

Fall - 2021

Today was Paige’s birthday. 

Azzi woke feeling giddy, excited to finally gift her best friend the gift she’s been putting together for the last two months. Her day was full with weights and classes, and although she was seeing Paige later in the evening to celebrate, she immediately found her phone and called her on FaceTime, running into a study space down the hall to not wake her roommate. It was 6AM.

Paige picked up on the fifth ring. She was surrounded by darkness, and her eyes looked swollen from sleep, face half squished into her pillow, lips slightly glistening from the drool Azzi knew escaped her mouth when she was in deep REM sometimes. Cute, Azzi thought.

“Bro, it’s 6 in the morning,” the birthday girl said groggily, voice scratchy.

Azzi beamed, angling the phone down at her face so Paige could see her full smile. “Happy birthday P Buckets!” She exclaimed. “You’re old as hell now, bighead.”

At hearing her words, Paige pushed more of her face into the pillow, feeling a smile creep up on her face. She felt a blush coming on as well and wasn’t sure why; perhaps because Azzi was the first to wish her a happy birthday, because that was such an Azzi thing to do.

“You’re the biggest head for calling me this early,” Paige grumbled, sliding a hand down her face, trying to wake herself up. She opened her eyes and smiled fondly at Azzi through the screen, “Thanks dawg, ‘preciate it.”

“Are you excited for later?” Azzi sat now on a bean bag in the room, her cow slippers tapping the floor. The team had decided they were all going out to celebrate Paige, as they had a later practice tomorrow.

“Yeah, should be fun. Gonna get you drunk,” Paige was pushing half her face into her pillow again, a mischievous smirk on her face.

Azzi slightly blanched at the thought, her body always being a temple to her. She rolled her eyes, “You can try.”

She let out a quick grunt as she got up from the bean bag, the cut t-shirt she slept in slightly falling down her shoulder. Paige’s eyes flickered to her friend’s exposed collarbone and chest, suddenly feeling warm.

“I’ve got to start getting ready for lift and class but I just wanted to call you and let you know I’m glad you were born or whatever,” Azzi said casually, slightly pacing the small study room. “And I love you, or something.” She blushed at her own words, trying hard to continue looking at Paige directly.

Paige stared at her for a moment, mouth slightly open and her lips turned up. She settled on a small smirk, “You’re so corny.”

Azzi groaned and threw her head back, “Shut up.”

Paige chuckled softly. After a beat she replied, “I love you too, Az.”

___________________________________________

Paige’s day was filled with calls and texts from friends and families, even getting a text from Geno that read Happy birthday kid. Strangers around campus even knew it was her birthday somehow, something she could attribute to the phenomenon of her celebrity. It did feel strange to have someone wish her a happy birthday that she didn’t know the name of, however. Regardless, she was on cloud 9.

Her apartment had been unofficially assigned as the pregame spot, something she didn’t mind at all. Her teammates filtered in and out of her room as she got ready, hyping her up and making her laugh.

“Oh, she looking like a dime and a half,” Nika hollered, adding highlighter to Paige’s cheekbones.

“I’m a bad bitch, you already know,” Paige sang absentmindedly, scrolling her phone as her friend did her makeup.

Nika took this distracted opportunity to slightly clear her throat. “So,” She started, “Tryna look pretty for anyone tonight?”

Paige scrunched her brows at the question, slightly laughing. She hadn’t talked to anyone like that since last spring. “Nah, dude. I can’t even remember the last time I was messing with someone like that. I got this shit on for myself,” She cheesed at her friend through the mirror. 

Nika, about to continue her subtle interrogation, was interrupted as Paige stood abruptly. “Azzi texted she’s here, be right back,” Paige said, partially out the door already.

“Mhm,” Nika said to herself.

A few seconds later, Paige walked back in with Azzi. Both held slightly flushed cheeks and smiles, Azzi with a purple gift bag in her hand. She gave Nika a quick hug, “You look so good!”

Nika smiled, “Nah, look at you – I see that belly ring out, girl. Tryna impress anyone tonight?”

Azzi stayed flush and quickly shook her head saying, “Oh my god, no” at the same time as Paige’s “Chillllllll.”

Nika clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth, putting away her makeup she brought over to help Paige get ready, “Well if I don’t see you talking to anyone tonight I’m gonna be disappointed.”

Azzi just laughed, settling herself at the edge of Paige’s bed. Paige gave Nika a quick dap and thanked her for helping her get ready.

“Yeah, yeah,” Nika replied as she left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar and eyes catching Paige join Azzi on the bed. She smiled to herself.

The pair now sat alone in Paige’s room, Azzi wringing her hands slightly at a curious nervousness she wasn’t used to around her best friend. She wasn’t sure when it happened, but Paige was starting to look…almost mature. Perhaps it was the makeup and the flat ironed blonde hair, but Azzi had never seen Paige’s cheekbones so defined, or noticed that her cheeks hollowed in a way that accentuated her sharp jaw line. Her lips looked full and glossy, and her eyes looked almost navy as she stared at her through long mascara-coated eyelashes.

Azzi blinked. She stood up and shoved the purple bag in Paige’s lap.

Paige looked back and forth between the bag and back up at Azzi standing in front of her knees, huffing a laugh at the abruptness. More seriously, she said quietly, “You didn’t have to get me anything, Az.”

“Sure,” Azzi motioned to the bag, “Open it.”

Paige began pulling the tissue paper out of the bag, a lopsided smile she didn’t realize she was wearing sat on her lips. Inside, sat a photo album, a few friendship bracelets, a chocolate chip cookie bucket from the Minnesota State Fair, and a new purple iPad case.

“Your case got scratched,” Azzi said, noticing Paige’s silence as she sifted through the items.

Paige opened the album wordlessly, her chest hammering. It was littered with photos from their summer together, some taken on their phones, some taken on a polaroid. Most were Paige and Azzi smiling with or at each other.

“I had them printed out,” Azzi needlessly explained, still looking to fill the silence that Paige had fallen under. “Those are all my favorites.”

Paige looked up at her then, her heart feeling so tender as she looked on and smiled at her friend. She felt so seen. She felt so loved.

“I love it, Az,” She smiled wrapping Azzi in a tight hug, rocking them back and forth, “Thank you so much.”

Paige’s head landed on Azzi’s chest, her arms wounding so tight Azzi had no choice but to step in between her knees. Azzi laughed, letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and hugged her back, her arms finding themselves around Paige’s shoulders.

“Yay,” Azzi said quietly as they held each other.

Paige smiled goofily at her and pulled away, her hands lingering on Azzi’s waist before falling back to the items in her lap. She got up, gently placing the bag on her desk, making a mental note to set aside several hours tomorrow to eat chocolate chip cookies and stare at each photo in the album until she had them memorized.

“Alright,” Paige said, “Let’s party.”

___________________________________________

At Ted’s, it was packed.

Paige was being greeted by everyone, and surrounded by her teammates. As Dorka went to the bar to grab the group another round, Paige cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “Yo, get Azzi another shot!”

Azzi, standing next to Paige with a toothy grin, looked objectively good. Great, even. This was something Paige’s tipsy brain could register. Her hair was down and looking voluminously curly, she was wearing a baby blue crop top that made her skin color pop, and her belly ring was twinkling every so often from the dull bar lights. Yeah, Paige thought, she looks good.

Paige found herself staying near the younger girl, something she chalked up to just feeling protective since Azzi was underage at the bar and new to the school still, and had only drunk a few times in her life. It definitely wasn’t because she just wanted to be close. Or because Azzi was smiling at her with doe eyes and had both dimples on display.

Paige was now being brought shots, her friends loudly cheering as she threw them each back. She grins at everyone, her mind starting to feel hazy from the alcohol. 

Azzi slides in closer next to her, her cheeks flushed from the packed bar and alcohol. She tugs Paige’s shoulder down so she can ask in her ear, “Are you having fun?” 

Paige pauses at the small second of contact of Azzi’s lips to the shell of her ear. She stares back at the younger girl, eyes half-lidded with a lazy smile, “Yeah, you?”

They smile stupidly at each other with their faces an inch apart, Azzi nodding. She turns back to the group to join the rowdy conversation, her fingertips grazing down Paige’s bicep and staying there. Paige continues staring down at her, lips slightly parted, a voice in her brain saying touch, touch, touch.

Without thinking, Paige’s fingertips lightly graze the exposed small of Azzi’s back. They stay there as both girls sip their drinks, listening to Aubrey tell a story to the group, laughing when the others do.

The voice in her head tells her more, more, more.

She lays her palm flat on Azzi’s skin, dragging her finger tips across the side of Azzi’s waist. When Azzi shifts slightly to be able to hear something Ice is telling her, her hand falls. 

Paige puts her hand in her front pocket, clenching and unclenching her fist. 

Azzi turns back to her now, laughing, “I can’t believe you did that.”

Paige smiled lazily, instinctually moving close, her eyes following Azzi’s straight nose and lifted lips, “Tell me what I did.”

Azzi leaned in as well, gripping Paige’s bicep. Paige unknowingly flexes.

“Ice told me last year on your birthday you had to turn down like 10 girls,” she said, still laughing, “That’s so stupid.”

Paige shrugged and stared at her with half-lidded eyes, her lips still upturned, “Ladies love buckets, what can I say.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “Delusional,” she said, leaning into Paige’s ear, “You think you’re so cool, don’t you?”

Paige grinned, their noses almost brushing as Paige took her turn to say in Azzi’s ear, “Yeah, and you do too.”

“You’re so full of yourself,” Azzi chided, her eyes dancing on Paige’s face.

Paige tsked. “Quit playing,” she said, her voice coming out lower than she meant, they’re faces inches apart.

“Yo, is Nika good?” the pair heard Aaliyah ask the group, effectively snapping them both out of their bubble. Nika, it turned out, was not good. Aubrey had found her throwing up in the bathroom, apparently having drunk so much she felt sick.

The sophomores plus Azzi decided wordlessly they would help their friend get home safely, calling it a night. They each took turns carrying the Croatian back to her apartment, ignoring as she mumbled, “I’m Eastern European for fuck’s sake, how did this happen.”

In the end, Paige and Azzi were the two who remained until 2 in the morning, helping Nika wretch and clean herself up. Azzi, cooing and holding Nika’s hair up while she rubbed her back. Paige, picking out her clothes for bed and getting her toothbrush ready for her.

“Thank you both,” Nika mumbled, her accent sounding thicker than normal as she eventually lifted her comforter up to her chin. Azzi set a cup of water down for her near the bed, Paige placing a trash can on the side just in case. “You’re so cute together”.

Paige and Azzi paused, silently agreeing to ignore the comment.

“G’night, Twin,” Paige said quietly as her and Azzi left her room, heading back to Paige’s apartment.

As they walked together on a quiet sidewalk, illuminated only by street lamps, Paige looked over at Azzi who had tired eyes. “You’re sleeping over,” Paige told the younger girl, “It’s late.”

Azzi simply nodded, letting Paige lead her to her apartment in comfortable silence, their forearms brushing every so often.

When they arrived, they immediately began getting ready for bed. Washing their faces together, Azzi putting toothpaste on Paige’s toothbrush, and then her own (the spare Paige kept for her just in case).

Azzi wordlessly grabbed her favorite oversized shirt and boxers of Paige’s to wear, both changing with their backs turned.

“Did you have a good birthday?” Azzi asked quietly when they were laid in bed. They faced each other, fingers ghosting the other without them realizing due to their tiredness.

“The best,” Paige said softly, smiling slightly. “Thanks for helping with Nika.”

“Of course,” Azzi mumbled with her eyes closed, “You were nice to help her like that on your birthday.”

“Making sure the people I love are good is more important than drinking at Ted’s,” Paige told her simply, eyes also closing.

Azzi hummed. She opened her eyes and stared at Paige for a second, taking her in. She looked so at peace it made something in Azzi’s heart ache in a way she couldn’t place.

"It's funny," She said quietly, shaking her head slightly “Even on a day that’s supposed to be dedicated to you, you can’t stop thinking of everyone else.”

Paige opened her eyes then, staring back. She felt her mouth open and close, but no words left her lips. 

She shifted so she lay with her eyes staring at the ceiling.

“I want so much, so badly,” she started, so quietly Azzi had to make sure she was hearing her right. A few seconds later, she continued.

"I want it so much I feel guilty. I feel guilty for wanting more when I already have so much. I want to be the best there ever was. The only way I know how to offset this guilt is by pouring into everyone else around me. It makes me feel good and appreciated and loved in a way I don’t know how to pour back into myself on my own.”

They lay silently for a moment, Paige feeling Azzi’s eyes on the side of her face. Several seconds pass, and Paige thinks Azzi won’t respond to her admission when suddenly she feels arms wrap around her waist. Azzi bends her head to fall into the crook of Paige’s shoulder, nose hitting her exposed collar bone. Paige doesn’t move apart from resting her cheek on top of Azzi’s head, closing her eyes and letting herself be held. Azzi sighs quietly. 

“You’re a good person, Paige,” Azzi says. “The best person I know. I love you a lot.” 

Her words are simple but somehow, she says exactly what Paige needed to hear. She doesn’t try to change how Paige feels, or anything about Paige as a person. All she does is validate her and appreciate her as she is. Paige’s heart feels so full from Azzi’s affirmation that she stays quiet and ignores the subtle prickly feeling of her eyes.

And for a single second, only one, she lets herself imagine that when Azzi said “I love you a lot”, she meant it in the way they aren’t supposed to mean it. She didn’t know why. 

Neither realized, but Azzi did mean it in the way Paige hoped. 

[pazzi5351]

Can’t be friends.

Paige x Azzi

Word count: 1.2k

An: an anon asked for this and I started it yesterday then I had dance then the knicks were playing (they lost💔) and I’m just now finishing it k bye hope ya like! Also I added like no fluff and lowk leaving it on a cliffhanger cs idk what else to add🤧

————————————————————————————

Paige and Azzi had always been, different. Their parents noticed it when they first became friends. Their teammates noticed it when Azzi stepped on UConn’s campus for the first time, and Paige’s mood drastically changed.

The only people who didn’t seem to notice were Paige and Azzi themselves.

They went along with being “just best friends” though, the lines between that and something more had been crossed years before.

They went along with being “just best friends” until the glances between them lasted a beat too long. The hands on backs rested lower. And, the tension between them was so thick, people were starting to see it.

Especially their teammates.

“Ok Paige. What the hell is going on between you and Azzi.” Ice asked Paige, while watching the lobby screen of their fortnight game.

“Yeah,” Kk chimed in. “You guys are like, super, weirdly, close.”

“Bruuh. What are y’all even saying right now?” Paige asked, with an incredulous look on her face.

“We’re asking, friend to friend, if you and Azzi have something going on.” Ice said, matter of factly. “It’s totally chill if y’all do, I mean, we don’t care, we just wanna know.”

Paige slowly put her controller down, and turned to look at her friends. “There’s no way you’re seriously asking me that. Right? Me and Azzi are just friends. Why’s that so hard to believe? Sure, we’re close but, y’all are close too. It’s the same thing.”

Ice and Kk shared a look.

“No. It’s not the same honey. Not at all. I mean sure Ice and I are close but, you and Azzi, y’all are close.” Kk said, putting emphasis on the last word.

“Define ‘close’. Because since Azzi and I are just soo ‘close’, I’m sure you have examples of our ‘closeness’.” Paige said, rather defensively, for a reason she couldn’t name.

“Sure,” Ice nodded. “You open her water bottles, drive her car, when she very clearly has a license; you bring her snacks, text her asking if she ate or if she’s hungry, you bring her food without asking, you always, and I mean always, let her steal your clothes, but when I ask you say no, or you ‘don’t know where it is because last time you saw it Azzi had it.’ What else Kk? That’s all I got.”

“Oh I’ll go on,” Kk responded. “Paige, you literally have carried her out of the bar when she was ‘too tired’ to walk, I’ve watched you make snack bags for her, and for away games, you carry her bags and yours to the bus so she, and I quote from you, ‘doesn’t strain anything holding her bags because they’re heavy.’ There’s a lot more, but you look shocked right now, so I’ll let you sit with that.”

When Ice and Kk finished, Kk was right. Paige was shocked. She never realized how much she did for Azzi. All of it was just second nature to her, like taking care of Azzi was her birthright.

All she could say to her friends was “Oh.”

Ice raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? Just ‘oh’?”

Paige blinked, like she hadn’t even heard the question. “I didn’t—I mean, I just… I don’t know. That’s just how we are.”

Kk crossed her arms, gaze steady. “No, Paige. That’s how you are with her. There’s a difference.”

And maybe Paige should’ve argued, should’ve denied it again. But instead, she sat there, controller long forgotten in her lap, a cold dread settling in her stomach.

Because they were right.

She didn’t sleep that night. Her mind kept playing scenes back like a highlight reel: Azzi asleep on her shoulder during the flight to South Carolina. Azzi curled into her side on the hotel bed, scrolling on her phone while Paige absentmindedly braided her hair. Azzi in her hoodie. Azzi in her car. Azzi everywhere.

And the way her chest clenched whenever Azzi smiled at someone else like she used to only smile at her.

Paige rolled over, staring at the unread text.

Azzi💗: “u up?”

She didn’t reply.

For days after that, Paige pulled back. Not enough for Azzi to call her out, but enough that the gap started to form—small, but noticeable. She stopped waiting outside practice for Azzi. She made excuses to ride with someone else. She laughed at her jokes but didn’t meet her eyes.

And it was killing her.

Because nothing had changed—but everything had.

The final crack came on a Tuesday after team workouts. Everyone else had left. Paige was gathering her stuff when Azzi stepped in front of her, arms crossed, face unreadable.

“You mad at me?” she asked, quiet.

Paige blinked. “What? No. Why would I be mad?”

“You’ve been avoiding me, Paige,” Azzi said, voice firmer now. “You don’t even look at me.”

“I’ve just been tired.”

Azzi scoffed. “Don’t lie to me. You suck at it.”

Paige’s hands tightened around her hoodie. “I’m not avoiding you.”

Azzi’s gaze narrowed. “Then why do I feel like I did something wrong?”

Paige swallowed hard. “You didn’t.”

“Then what is it?” Azzi asked, voice low. “Because if you’re gonna push me away, your best friend, at least tell me why.”

Paige shook her head. “You don’t get it.”

“Make me get it,” Azzi said, scanning Paige’s face for any type of answer. “Because I can’t fix something you won’t tell me.”

Paige scoffed and shook her head. “That’s the thing, Az. You can’t fix it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s me,” Paige said, finally meeting her eyes. “It’s what I feel when I look at you. It’s what I do, for you, without thinking; like carrying your bags, buying your snacks, giving you every part of me like it’s nothing. And it’s not nothing. Not to me.”

Azzi’s lips parted, but she didn’t speak.

Paige’s voice cracked. “I don’t know when it stopped being just friends, but I know I didn’t even notice until it was too late. And now I feel it all the time. All the time, Azzi. And I didn’t want to say it because if I do, everything changes.”

Azzi took a slow step forward. “It doesn’t have to change, P.”

“I’m scared.”

“So am I.”

There was silence.

And then Paige, barely above a whisper, said, “I think I’m in love with you.”

Azzi didn’t move. She just stood there, slightly taken aback, breathing slowly, staring at Paige like she’d waited years to hear those words.

Then, finally, “Good. Because I’m in love with you too.”

They didn’t kiss that night, no. It was two girls, with a long history together, sitting on a bench, still sweaty from practice, hands shaking slightly as they reached for each other. It was quiet. Heavy. Real.

They didn’t tell anyone right away. Not because they were hiding, but because Paige wasn’t ready to say it out loud again.

When the team asked where they’d been—when they snuck away during a night out or vanished from the locker room after practice—Paige would shrug, let Azzi answer. She couldn’t bear the teasing, the jokes. Not yet.

It wasn’t until Ice caught them in the hallway—Azzi standing too close, Paige’s thumb brushing over her knuckles—that someone finally said it.

“You’re together, huh?”

Azzi nodded slowly. Paige froze. Azzi noticed.

Ice smiled, small and sure. “Took you long enough.”

And Paige’s chest loosened, just a little.

[runningupthatvecna]

okay so that recent cast wars interview/press game thingy still has me on the floor (positively) and i wanted to share my personal highlights (in no particular order and because i do enjoy a good chaotic press game, especially from a cast that has been hilariously entertaining so far)

– d'pharao giggling the entire time at every little thing that's being said like he only attended the whole thing to have a laugh

– "hellraisin" –will poulter (2025)

– michael gandolfini as shrek and joseph's reaction: "that's absolutely horrible"

– "cash wars" –cosmo jarvis already being done with this shit before the introduction

– kit and will being the only two taking the whole thing seriously by actually trying to gain their teams any points

– joseph and charles giggling and acting like 10 year olds in the back of the classroom while cosmo's just sitting there in his little corner looking like an annoyed father having to chaperone his six rowdy children to sunday brunch, not even moving once the entire time and just going "i don't know" and "i don't care" at everything lol he's my new spirit animal

– will being so done with the meme question, "luckily the internet has been cruel to me multiple times"

– "flame face quinn"

– this entire exchange of words and emotions: kit: "there's no way they're gonna get it" joe (to kit and charles, very quietly): "hard-on" michael (off): "panic attack?" kit (to charles and joe): "yeah hard-on" charles: :O kit: "eReCtiOn !!" which isn't even the correct answer to the question being asked charles and d'pharao: hihihi will: "he's great in heartstopper but i don't remember this moment" charles: "cause you never saw it" will: "i've watched it, I'VE WATCHED IT bruv!!!" joe: "what's your favourite fucking episode?" will, in the most british accent of british accents: "I dOnT kNoW tHE ePiSodES !!!!"

– will and d'pharao just cracking up at joe's question of what to all the boys i loved before is

– joseph's drawing of will as a cat lol

– joe: "IN WHOSE POCKET?!" kit: "in which pocket?!" will: "sorry?! puts his hand where?!" d'pharao: *loses it* joe, again: "in whose pocket?" kit: "that's fucking assault" charles: *shoving his hand into d'pharao's pocket* "i'm flirting!" will: *holds his rear side into the camera* "put your hand in my pocket!" kit (while being stuck alongside charles' hand on will's ass): "oh shit, calvin kleins!"

– "cosmo fuckface jarvis" and joseph visibly reveling in cosmo's non-reactions

– kit: "cosmo's his middle name" cosmo: "i don't care" someone let this man leave and go home to his bed lmao

– joseph and kit being total siblings kit: "i actually think i know [eddie munson's band name]" joe: "it's your demographic" charles: *loses it* kit: "??? my fucking demographic what the fuck, what are you talking about!!!!" while everyone joins charles in losing it and joe finding himself to be the most hilarious person to have ever existed which in all honesty– relatable

– kit, after charles did his gollum and stitch impression: "the veins in your neck!" joe: "it's called COMMITMENT, KIT" sassy bitch

– everyone losing their shit at "tom fuckface hardy" while joseph thinks about starting a career in comedy so hard he has to get out of his chair and resemble a tomato

– "i can tell you someone who isn't" *raises hand* –will poulter, not cast in avengers doomsday (2026)

– kit: "is it the death of the fuckface unicorn?" joe, lecturing his younger brother: "you can't use fuckface like, ALL the time" also joe, two minutes later: *starts playing with kit's ear, causing kit to wriggle out of his chair and tell him off* someone come and pick the children up from buzzfeed daycare please

– "we get wot, we get three seconds they get ONE YEAR?!" –joseph quinn (2025)

– #justiceforwarlock

– this entire group of grown men starting to act incredibly unhinged the second they are in each others presence lol

[maroonpascal]

It's lights out and away we go

Pairing: Harry Castillo x f!reader

Summary: life is always full of surprises with Harry, and the next one looks very fast

Warnings: brief mention of smut, use of pet names (my love, babe, darling)

Word count: 3.8k

Notes: happy race weekend! Monaco is one of my favourite gp so I thought of writing a little thing, just for the vibes. No drivers or teams are mentioned specifically, they get mentioned just as “your favourite driver” - “your favourite team”

Dividers creds: @saradika

|| MY FICS ||

Your feet are swinging from the kitchen counter, phone in hand as you scroll through the highlights of the latest race, the roaring of the engines filling the big kitchen. You’ve always been passionate about cars, about racing, and more specifically about formula 1, always dreaming about how it would feel to hear those engines in real life and not from behind a screen. The sound from your phone is so loud that you didn’t hear Harry coming into the kitchen, noticing him only when he wraps an arm around your waist, pressing a kiss over your bare shoulder, his eyes squinting at the screen.

“Did I wake you up?” You utter, a hand going through his hair, him shaking his head and placing another kiss on your neck.

“Oh, remind me when is the next race?” He points a finger at the screen, leaning his head onto your shoulder to have a better look at it.

“It’s next week,” you answer putting down the phone on the counter, now slouching an arm around his shoulders, “and it’s in Monaco.”

He nods at your words, he would always listen to your rambling about f1, even staying up late or waking up at insane hours to watch it with you, even though mostly he would just watch you and see the smile on your face and the passion you have melt his heart.

“And have you ever been to Monaco?” He asks, looking up at you with those dreamy eyes, your thumb brushing on his forehead, “No, I haven’t, neither for the race nor for any other reason.”

You have dreamt so many times about how it would be to attend a race there, at such an iconic circuit, one of those circuits that would always make you hold your breath, especially during qualifying, for how tricky it is.

“Mhmh,” he nods, and you can see a glimpse of a smirk on his lips, “But you would love to go there, right?”

And now he is being cryptic, you tilting your head at him, “Yeah of course, I have been dreaming about that for so many years, but I never got the chance to actually go.”

You study his face for a moment, and you can tell that he is hiding something, but you patiently wait for him to stop being cryptic, which he always is before unleashing some kind of surprise on you, and definitely you have to stop yourself from dreaming about still going to that damn race.

“Oh well,” he reaches for something in the pocket of his shorts, “I wonder what is this, how did it end up here?” Holding a thick letter in his hand, wrapped with a little bow.

You tense up, your breathing literally stopping.

“Harry-” the words dying in your throat because it couldn’t be, right? It couldn’t be real, it couldn’t be happening to you.

“I think that a little bird might have left it for you.” He hands you the letter, taking it in your hands while they are trembling, unable to do anything rather than staring at it.

He brushes his nose over your shoulder, nudging you a little, “Come on, I’m curious to see what it is.” His lips pressing a kiss over your skin, and your heart beats so fast, it races in your chest as you start to undo the little bow, hands still trembling and fingers hesitant to see what these papers hold. You could never know what Harry’s surprises could be, never even imagine what his plans could be for a night out or a weekend trip, but surely right now you are hoping for just one thing while you unfold the papers.

And the words on the paper are clear as a day “You’re in! Time to start the countdown for the Monaco Grand Prix!”

You swear you can feel your heart stop just to then start racing again, “You got me the tickets for Monaco? Oh my god!” Your voice already breaking with tears of happiness as you jump off the counter to properly hugging him, almost jumping in his arms, repeating an infinite series of “thank you” over his shoulder, as you’re sure you’re wetting his t-shirt with your tears.

“I can’t believe you did this for me, I really can’t.” You say, voice heavy with emotions, “We’re going to Monaco‼” and you cannot help but jump in his arms, him lifting you up as you kiss him, hands cupping his cheeks, still those tickets in your hand.

You take a look out of the plane’s window, seeing the sea and boats and you swear you can already see the red and white lines on the street.

It all becomes so real when you land, getting off from the private jet only to get into a luxurious car, Harry would never settle for any less nor he would want you to do that. He drives along the streets as if he’s known them forever, letting down the window on your seat, the warm breeze messing with your hair, “Have you ever been already sometimes?” You ask, look lingering on him and on his sprawled hand on the steering wheel as he turns on the right.

“Yeah, a couple of times for work, but never to the actual Grand Prix.” He glances at you, “And to be honest I never thought I would have actually come here to attend one, but there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, my love.” He takes your hand in his, still looking at the road but pressing a kiss on your knuckles, “Every day is a surprise with you,” he continues, “I find myself doing things or going places I had never seen, or even at least experiencing them the way I do with you.”

You listen to him, as he leaves your hand back on your thigh, “There is something special about what we do together, what I get to do with you,” his eyes catching the sunlight, the sun creating a shadow on his face, accentuating even more his already perfect side profile, “Because I do it with someone I love for the very first time in my life.”

And definitely it is not the first time that he tells you he loves you, but this is such a new confession, this gives a new layer to it, “Every place we’ve been together to, darling, now it is different in my eyes, because I got to love you there, I got to love you on the other side of the world, in places that I would have never imagined to be with someone as special as you.”

Eyes glimmer with a couple of tears, and you love how emotional he can get, how he wears his heart on his sleeve despite his first appearance being the one of just someone very rich or entitled. But he couldn’t be far from being entitled, he’s the truest person you’ve ever met and you think that sharing all these experiences with him might be the biggest gift that life could give to you.

You look down at the ring shining on your finger, that little diamond creating rainbows on the console of the car, just one of the latest gifts from him, and yet the best gift will always be having his love.

It’s almost sunset when you reach the villa he rented, all in pristine white with golden details, and sleek black gates, Harry opening them with a remoter, and going in, the villa surrounded by just peace and quiet, being on top of the hill; you take a look at Monaco from up here once you’re out of the car, having taken out all the luggage, but staring for a moment at that beauty, sea breeze gracing your uncovered skin on your arms.

“It’s breathtaking.” You whisper, his arms wrapped around your waist as he presses a kiss behind your neck, “It really is.”

And for sure he is not looking at the landscape, he’s looking at you.

Your hand caresses his arm, as he presses a kiss on your cheek, and you can’t help but thinking that you’re leaving in a dream.

And that first night there tastes like champagne and his kisses, seeing that city at night might be even more magical, the lights making the sea shimmer. You should be used to all of this, but every time spending the nights between expensive restaurants and exclusive clubs is always something else with him, but every time it feels like the first one, marvelling at those beautiful places and at how charming Harry always looks, and the way he treats like a princess.

Day 1 || Free Practice 1 and 2

“So, maybe I forgot to tell you that we don’t have the tickets for the Grand Prix only.” He whispers, as if he’s saying a secret that somebody else could hear. You’re getting ready for the first day of the race weekend, picking the outfit with the colours of your favourite team. “Harry, I swear- what else have you gotten me?” You smile, failing to believe how the surprises never end with him, there’s always a new one around the corner.

“Well,” and this time instead of handling you a folded letter he gives you a velvety box.

You take the box in your hands, being so soft as you touch it and placing it on the bed and sitting for a moment there, looking up at him, because it really can’t be what you think it is, again.

He leans on the door frame of the bedroom, dreamy look on his face, and you dare to open the box, the light making shine immediately the passes inside.

Paddock passes.

You take one in your hands, trembling, and you can’t help but jump from the bed and going to hug him, almost unable to utter a word that is not “thank you, thank you.” getting all emotional over his shirt, still clutching that pass in your hand.

“Harry, you know that I couldn’t love you more than this.”

But he tilts his head, hinting at something else, and you stop him before he can say anything, “Is there something else?!”

And he laughs alongside you, ducking a bit his head, as he brushes his thumb on your waist, “You know how some people get access to the garage of the teams…”

“Oh no way, Harry, there is no way that we’re getting even to the garage? That we have a fucking VIP access?”

“Well, yeah, the final surprise is that we can go to the garage of your favourite team, you will see the cars and everything from up close and… of course you can meet your favourite driver.”

—

And so it begins, your dream of going through the gates of the paddock, heart beating so fast as one moment after you’re surrounded by all the noises, engines revving, mechanics working and people talking about the weekend and all sorts of specifics about the cars.

Team crews going around in their team colours, and you even manage to get a couple of photos of some team principals, Harry just following you along and for some reason he really thinks this is where you belong, this is your whole world. He’s even more sure than that when you get escorted to the garage of the team, seeing your eyes glimmering with emotions as you see the cars.

Your heart beats so fast, drumming against your chest in a way that is making your ears ringing: they’re really there in front of you, these cars that you’ve never imagined you could see, not even from behind a fence, let alone from this up close, catching all the details as you get a tour and full explanation of all the tools in the garage, the screens, and of course the parts of the cars.

Emotions run even wilder when you finally get to meet your favourite driver, and it goes exactly as how you’ve always imagined it, if not even better. You get to talk with him a little too, telling him all about why he’s your favourite and you can feel the tears in your eyes because of the happiness; Harry just goes along with everything, beaming with joy when he gets to take some photos of you and the driver together, because seeing you this overjoyed literally has no price for him.

“Do I have to worry about some competition?” He jokingly asks after, giving you the phone to look at the photos, and you lightly hit him on his arm, “You could never worry about that.” Shaking your head as you both giggle.

Free practice begins and you’re both given the big headphones, marvelling even at those as you wear them, only to see the drivers getting into the cars and starting to get away from the garages, the rumbling of the cars so strong that you swear you could feel it in your veins.

Harry has almost stepped back from all of that, leaving you your moment to enjoy the dream, because it is not about him right now, it is all about you.

You take a look at the screens, seeing the timings and looking at how most of the cars are on track, feeling that adrenaline that it would always give you when you see those cars running on track.

You even get the chance to see some pitstop practice, seeing that quickness, that sort of blink and you miss it, holding your breath while they do it.

And the day goes by, eyes marvelling at the screens, the data showed on them, and the engines being the loudest noise you’ve ever heard. You lean into Harry’s side when it’s time to go, both free practice ended, still thanking him for this day and for the way he’s left you all the time needed to be just with one of your biggest passions.

He waves it off, as he would always do, as you walk down the paddock and through the exit, because he has the possibility to make your dream too, and he would do it again and again, no questions asked.

You both spend the remaining of the afternoon wandering around the city, arm in arm, Harry telling you all about the places he’s been here, talking about the days spent here and even though they must be happy memories he has a sort of melancholia as he recalls them, because it was a time when his job was the only thing that mattered, when he still didn’t know what he wanted, and jumping from city to city, country to country, was all he did, never setting roots anywhere and never having a stable relationship in his life. But this time is different, this is the time when he’s gonna finally have memories that are gonna stick with him forever, because there will be no way he will ever forget how excited you look in that garage or how you kept smiling at him whenever you saw something new in the garage, even though he really doesn’t understand that much of all that stuff, but he would always listen to you and to what makes you happy.

Day 2 - Free Practice 3 and Qualifying

Still today you get the access to the paddock, having the privilege to watch practice 3 from the top of the garage buildings, looking at the pitstops from up above and having also a nice view of a little part of the track, seeing the cars running on it. Harry looks adorable, wearing the cap of your favourite team and leaning on the balcony, and on your shoulder, today asking you a little more on your predictions and just listening to you in that charming way that he has.

And for qualifying, you get to go to the seats, and of course he got some of the best seats at the race, heading to the Harbour, looking down at all the boats and seeing how you have such a great view of the track, seeing the famous chicane right after the tunnel from up here.

You know damn well that these might be the best seats in Monaco and so the most expensive, but once again Harry reassures you that it was no problem getting them and that if you want to, that’s exactly where you’re gonna be next year too. You shake your head at him, smiling, knowing that nothing could ever stop him from giving you such gifts.

And seeing the cars from this grandstand is something else, seeing them in action, drivers pushing to their limits to get the best time, and getting through the next phase of qualifying.

You hold Harry’s hand as you look at the time of the final lap of your favourite driver, the one that could determine if he’s gonna take pole position or not, heart beating fast against your chest, looking at the screen for the first part of the lap and then in a heartbeat seeing him coming down from the tunnel, through the chicane, and on the track right before your eyes, engine roaring as he goes at the highest speed. You go back looking at the screen, now holding Harry’s hand with both of your hands, him looking up at the screen too, hoping and hoping that he’s gonna get pole just for you.

A rush of happiness makes you jump from the seat when he finally gets pole, screaming his name as other people in the crowd cheer too, “He got pole, he got pole‼”

On the way back to the villa, you can’t stop smiling, almost jumping for how ecstatic your area, Harry endearingly glancing at you.

During the night you can’t even fall asleep, such is the excitement for tomorrow, making definitely good use of the time you’re both spending up, lost in the bedsheets as you moan each other’s names.

Day 3 || Race day

This is it, you think as you’re letting Harry closing your dress for the day, this is the day. The dress falls perfectly on you, having chosen one of the colour of your favourite team, Harry looking like a dream too in that elegant shirt and trousers. The ring on your finger shines as you close the necklace around your neck, Harry’s eyes catching the light of it, “You’re stunning, darling.” He utters on your shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses there, hand reaching his cheek.

And you know that if you don’t put an halt to that, you will never leave this house. Because sure, you spent the night lost in each other but it’s never enough with him, and you too could never get enough of him.

“Come on, babe, let’s go.” You say, “We still have tonight, you know?” And he ducks his head onto your neck, breathing in your perfume, and declaring his defeat right after when he leaves your shoulder, and taking the passes from the couch in the living room, as you reach him, checking if you have everything and putting that pass around your neck, even matching your dress.

The atmosphere at the track is buzzing, sun shining high on you as you take your seats, nervously checking the time, and once again squeezing Harry’s hand as the cars are lining up on the grid before the start, anxious for your driver on pole position. You hold your breath and the screen shows the clean start, everyone getting through the first corners and soon the thundering of the engines reaches your sector, your pulse so strong at seeing the raw speed, imprinting in your brain these moments, enjoying them fully.

78 laps are a lot, and the race lasts even more given a couple of yellow flags and even a red one, heart jumping in your chest hoping it wasn’t your diver, who instead gets blissfully through all of that, still holding his position, lap after lap.

And it is in the last lap that you realise you’re really about to witness your driver winning at your race, and seeing him crossing the finish line makes you cry tear of joy, failing to believe how lucky you got to be here and to witness his win right before your eyes, Harry at your side looking just as thrilled as you. A river of emotions washes over you, this weekend having the most perfect ending, so many dreams having become true.

You’ve always wondered how it would feel to see all of this in real life, and now you can tell that it feels like being on cloud nine, like walking on a cloud for the rush of joy flooding your veins.

Leaving the circuit after is quite hard, having to leave behind this magical place that has delivered to you so many new memories, keeping Harry close to you and still having that glimpse of tears in your eyes.

Maybe it’s all the adrenaline of having seen your favourite driver on the top step of the podium, maybe it’s the happiness fuelling your body, emotions running high, but you can’t help but leaning on him as you’re finally back at the villa, kissing him as the golden light of the sunset is making him look even more gorgeous.

You kiss him breathless, as he lets you both into the house closing the door behind you and one second after you’re pressed against the wood of it, his hand reaching the hem of the dress and starting to trail it over your thigh, grabbing your skin; hands get lost in his curls, as he leaves wet kisses on your neck, and you’re sure he can feel your pulse strong there, lips burning on your ignited skin, having to fight the urge to fall on your damn knees for the way he’s making you so weak.

“Harry…” you exhale, as his hands are going behind your thighs before finally lifting you up, and taking you upstairs in his arms, keeping on kissing him, and you don’t even know how me manages to get you both to the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed with you sitting on his lap, straddling him.

His hands are quick on the back of your dress, letting fall off from your shoulders and you leave him just for a moment, to let it fall onto the floor, then going back to sitting on him, arms around his shoulders, as you tangle your fingers through his hair, kissing him again and breathing him in.

“Should we have our own race?” You tease, voice low close to his ear, kissing him on his neck, him throwing his head back a little to let you give it all to him, “And see who’s gonna win?”, he whispers after kissing you.

“Oh we’re both gonna win.”

Author’s note: feel free to tell me in the comments/tags what driver you imagined winning the gp 🤍

[cheolieji]

Seungcheol

warning: Smut,unprotected sex, breeding kink and idk what else im too lazy

A/N: This is in no way to say mingyu acts like this. it's just part of the fiction

not proofread

I'm lowkey bad at writing smut🫢

feel free to send requests!

check [17] (pink highlighted) to see my yes and no's

seungcheol is the type of guy to walk on the street side of the sidewalk

seungcheol is the protective boyfriend everyone wishes for

the perfect and clingy boyfriend

you wanna wear a short dress? go ahead, he can fight

a guy just looks at you the wrong way, his fist is tightened, his jaw is clenched, and his death glare... goddd if looks could kill

you love it when he's protective over you

but something happened that made you think, is he a little too protective?

now you're sitting in his living room beside him, hands rubbing against each other, nervous to say it

seungcheol, of course, notices this. "You okay hun?" "Yeah! why wouldn't i be?" weird... but he just nodded his head, turning his attention back to the show playing. the sound of tv playing in the background mixing with your thoughts, should you really ask him about something so little that could turn into a heated argument?

"Hey-" "babe-" "Yeah? you say it first"

"no its just uhm. i" his eyebrows raised in confusion. What are you trying to tell him?

"Okay. will you promise not to get mad?" "Of course baby, why would i get mad at you?

"You know how we went to the kims gathering?" he just nods "yeah and how mingyu kept looking at me and stuff?" "Where are we going with this" his eyebrows still raised

"Nothing like that. It's just the way you were glaring at him. felt a little.... i don't know.. rudee? I'm sure he didn't mean it like that. " "Ah, that? i know him, babe he doesn't have good intentions. when he looks at someone like that, it means he wants something out of them." he pauses for a second, "and plus, you're mine..."

you blushed in your seat

"okay good i guess... i thought you were being a little too protective"

"Hey. It's good to be protective over what's mine!" he giggles while hugging you and placing you on his lap. and you're straddling him now. Suddenly, the air shifts

noticing this, seungcheol pulls you in closer before pressing a kiss on your lips. It starts to turn into a makeout session with you grinding on him while heavy breathing leave your mouths

"Can i?" As he's looking down at your pants, you nodded. he takes your pants along with his off. "No panties? want me to fuck you that bad? huh?" You nod again, eyebrows furrowed. "Say it, baby, i wanna hear you" "yes please cheol just fuck me, please"

he teases your opening with his dick before slowly entering your already wet cunt. shit did he get bigger?

"You feel so good, baby, just for me." Now he's fully inside you. He waited a bit for you to get used to his size

he's balls deep inside you, and you're a moaning mess, but he's looking at you like you're the prettiest thing in the world

he's hitting all the right spot "ah- cheol please" your gummy walls wrapped around his thick cock feels like heaven, for the both of you

he's leaving hickeys all over your neck as you're riding him like there's no tomorrow

bouncing on his dick as you're moaning his name loudly. it's like music to his ears

you feel the familiar pit in your stomach "fuck cheol im gonna cum" he lets out a loud grunt before cumming inside you "fuck ill fill you with my babies"

" gonna make you forget about that fucker" he continues thrusting inside you until you reached your high before softly kissing you

you let out a loud moan before falling on his shoulder. "You know, if you wanna put babies inside me, we should probably do more." "you wanna move it to the bedroom?" he carries you to the bedroom for a night of pleasure

[ambrozjas]

the gang x reader who loves makeup ꨄ︎

the outsiders x reader (separate)

✧˖*°࿐ notes 🧸ᰔᩚ

guys i swear i’m working on your requests i just wanted to use this as a filler to feed you guys while you wait, but trust me, i’m workin on it 💕 thank you for all the likes and reqs !! love you all xoxo

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

some curse words, makeup, reader is compared to “a girl in a magazine” in johnnys part, kissing?? i dunno 😭

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

DARRY’s thumb rubs along your thigh. he lay on his bed while you were sat at the desk besides him. you placed your vanity mirror on the wooden surface and had been working on your makeup for about half an hour.

darry had seen his mother put on makeup whenever she’d go out with his father, so he had a better idea of makeup than someone like steve or two bit. he liked whenever you asked him questions like ‘this or that’.

“which one? peach or mint?” you asked as you held up two lip glosses, the peach gloss in a soft pink tube and the mint in a sage green one.

darry seemed to think for a moment, humming in thought. “th’peach one.” he finally said, nodding his head in the direction of where you were holding the peach tube.

“thanks, dare.” you mumbled, your lips forming an ‘o’ shape, ready for application.

“why do you always put on makeup?” he asks, eyes fixated on you. a satisfying pop of your lips before you look over to him and shrug.

“dunno, makes me feel pretty.”

“you’re always pretty, darlin’.” darry continues, moving his hand from your thigh to your hand, interlocking both your fingers and squeezing.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“how d’ya get that thing so close to your eye?” SODAPOP asks. you’ve been doing your makeup for about ten minutes, soda watching you like a hawk.

“i just raise my eyelid and put the curler to my lashes, piece’a cake.” you shrug, mouth open as you apply some mascara. “really?” he asked, taking a glance at your drawer full of makeup products, an assortment of pretty colored tubes, he would guess were either for your lips or eyes.

“yeah, why? you want some?” you laughed, expecting a ‘no’ in return but got only silence. you looked back at him. soda had just shrugged exaggeratedly.

one thing let to another and you ended up perched on sodapop’s lap, his eyes closed as you decorated his lids with blue eyeshadow.

“soda—! don’t crinkle your eyes!” you exclaimed, your boyfriend simply chuckled and gently grasped your wrist. “‘s not my fault it tickles, babe.”

soda opens his eyes to look at you, pulling your palm to his lips for a soft kiss.

“you know, you just ruined the eyeshadow, right? your eyes are hooded so the shadow will get—“

“shh, i’m tryna be romantic ‘ere.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“oh, PONYBOY!” you squealed, dragging out the ‘y’ in his name and running down the hallway already carrying your makeup bag.

you poke your head in through the doorway to find pony laying on his bed, nose buried in another one of his books. he glanced at you, already suspicious of the fact that the rest of your body isn’t visible.

“huh?” he questioned, his eyes flickering between the words of the book. “you wanna be the best boyfriend ever and do me a favor, pony?” you grinned as you dragged out the syllables in his name.

“what’re you doin’?” he inquired. you started to step slowly into view, your bag held behind your back. “i just need’a see somethin’ real quick.” he sat up a bit as you got closer to him and placed the book on the desk next to his bed, careful to mark the page he was on with a bookmark.

you finally bring your hands around to your front, unveiling the small makeup bag filled to the brim with products.

“oh, no.”

“oh, yes.”

“no! you ain’t touchin’ my face!”

and before he knows it, ponyboy has a face full of makeup on and you’re finishing it off with some sparkly highlighter on his nose.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

you had a date with JOHNNY at the drive-in, planning to see one of elvis’ new movies.

you had done your makeup, using the multitude of products you had in your room, and you looked snatched. your hair was cute, whether greased up or not, it never failed to look effortlessly gorgeous, johnny always thought so.

he was already waiting at the drive-in, accompanied by dallas who unfortunately was “chaperoning” him for the night, probably just trying to keep a lookout for drunk broads.

when you had arrived though, boy, was johnny astonished. his eyes widened at just the sight of you, it was like you were a princess walking up to him in slow motion.

once you had caught up to him and dally, johnny couldn’t help but mutter, “y’look like one of those ladies from the magazines..”, he gawked at just the utter sight of you.

“thank you?” you giggled and gave a quick peck to his lips. “i’ll get us a coke!” you jogged over to the concessions area with a bunched up wad of money in your hand. johnny watched you walk away, mouth still parted a bit in shock.

dallas, being the shithead he is, rudely tapped johnny’s cheek, making him close his mouth. “you’ll catch flies, johnny.” he said, exhaling the smoke from his cigarette.

once you two had actually sat down, dally chatting up some girl a few feet away, johnny turns to you. “s’that a new lipgloss?”

“yeah, you like it?” you asked, blowing him an exaggerated air kiss after.

“tastes sweet.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“c’mon, doll, it’s been like twenty minutes.”

“hold on, DALLY, i have to finish this wing!” you affirmed, your words altered with the way you opened your mouth so your skin would stretch, giving you the perfect opportunity with eyeliner and mascara. one struggle almost everybody goes through, is getting the other eyeliner wing to match the other.

“you’ve been at this for a while, just draw a line ‘n call it a night.” dallas insisted, he didn’t much like waiting, and he never understood why people took so much time just to do their makeup.

“no, you don’t understand. it has to be perfect.” you said, enunciating the ‘p’. you look at dallas in the reflection of the mirror and see him sigh in defeat and hollow his cheeks with another inhale of a cancer stick.

“you better not be smokin’ that thing in here, stinkin’ up my whole room.” you wrinkled your nose, the smell of cigarettes never leaves your room as long as dallas comes over.

“you do it too.”

“i smoke outside, not where it’ll penetrate a whole room full of cute things.” you rebutted.

“whatever you say, doll.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“do i look like a pretty princess?” TWO-BIT asked as you applied blush on his cheeks. you and his kid sister giggled at the sight. two’s eyes covered with all sorts of bright pinks and yellows and blues, colors that his little sister suggested.

“yes keith, you look like a pretty princess.” you said, watching two’s nose scrunch at the brush tickling his cheeks.

“what next?” you asked to his sister, turning to her as she held a finger to her chin in thought. then, it was like a light bulb went off inside her head. she grinned at you, a catlike smile that you returned, one that made two-bit worried about what would come next.

“lipstick.” was all she said, and immediately she handed you a bright red lipstick. you let out a soft laugh as you looked at two-bit’s expression, cocking an eyebrow as usual.

“you ain’t doin’ what i think you’re doin’, right?” he asks, then you wiggle the tube of lipstick at him, getting it closer as he shifts away. he placed his hands up in defense, “baby—! c’mon, you wouldn’t do that to your wonderful lovely boyfriend, would you?”

as he tries to scurry off, you hook your leg around his waist and keep him in place while his little sister laughs hysterically in the background. you grip his cheeks so his lips could purse, giving you the perfect access to apply his lipstick.

he ends up looking like a scrapped lisa frank design and that lipstick ends up in kiss marks littering your face, accompanied by ‘eww’s’ in the back provided by two’s sister.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“shit! it burns!” STEVE yells, his lips a cherry red with irritation.

“why’d you put it on your lips?” you threw your arms up, representing a ‘what the hell?’.

“thought it was your lipstick thingies!”

“why would you put it on your lips in the first place, steve?” you laughed and rushed over to get a paper towel and a few ice cube. “i thought it’d taste good.” he muttered, his lips a comical plump as he glared at the tube, feeling silly how he didn’t read the white letters on it saying ‘duck plump’.

when you came back, you sat down next to steve, gently wiping off the gloss before he snatched the napkin and wiped it off aggressively himself, desperate to get it off.

you both looked at each other before he looked down at the ice cube. “wha’s ‘at supposed to do?” he asked. you stammered, “i don’t know you were in hysterics! ‘pleasee! oh please get it off! it burns—!’” you cut yourself off with a laugh, laying back on the bed.

“yeah, yeah. whatever..” he grumbles, throwing another glare at the lip plumping gloss that lay abandoned on your desk.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ thank you all so much for all the love n requests, i swear i’m writing them just give me some time 🫶

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

[amourrs]

bachelor!abby who hasn’t stopped thinking about you since your last encounter with her. she’d gone back to the same club she met you at about thirteen times in the first month after meeting you, hoping against hope she’d catch sight of you- but to no avail. eventually she called it a day, assuming that you’d only been in town for the night and she wouldn’t see you again. after all, she’d seen you on a few big billboards and even a couple of video campaigns lately- not that’s she’s keeping track or anything. she definitely hadn’t snapped a picture of your face on a trip to times square and put it into reverse image search to find out your name (that would be sooo creepy, and also stupid when she could’ve just searched “prada spring/summer ‘24 campaign model” instead of spy kidding that shit— something she only realised three days after the fact) and then found your instagram (three million followers, almost twice abby’s) and spent three hours scrolling through all your posts and highlights and scrutinising every detail. did she slip her hands down her pants and start circling her clit over her boxers with a whimper of your name as she looked at one selfie of you in a bikini, glistening and gorgeous? absolutely not! she would never do such a thing… so when she does eventually let it go, she lets it go for good, aside from the occasional horny search of your name on instagram to see you in cabo or bali or marrakesh where she accidentally double taps a photo and has to hastily remove the little red heart to avoid embarrassment (not that you’d see it with that follower count). it’s a random monday when abby steps into yet another exclusive club, alcohol and maybe a little something more coursing through her veins and sees you. at first she has to do a double take. maybe she’s fucking tripping or something, maybe manny’s started giving her laced shit- but no, it really is you, in the flesh and staring back at her. she’s trying to figure out whether she should approach you outright or send you a drink across the bar when you suddenly clear your throat at her from about half an inch away and she jumps. “been enjoying my instagram, pervert?” abby doesn’t know what she was expecting from you, but it wasn’t that. she blushes, cerise to the bone, something she doesn’t find herself doing often. “can you blame me?” she tries to play it off cool, but your laugh indicates it falls flat. “oh, come on, then. bathroom in fifteen, yeah?” the blonde splutters, choking on her own words as you tilt your head to the side, watching her flounder. “uhh, whaddya mean—” the tut that spills from your lips has her flinching. why are you the one with the power? she’s not used to this, and all she knows is that she’s so fucked. she hangs on your every word like an overeager puppy anyway. “bathroom. fifteen minutes,” you repeat, lips curling into a tiny smirk. “maybe this time you’ll get your pants off before you cum.”

[charliemwrites]

Part 5 (it’s getting out of control) of Charmed Slasher Simon.

Part 4 is here. (Master list coming soon)

(Slight warning for a coworker being a bit of a pushy creep but Simon handles it)

“Riiiiileyyyy.”

Ah, that’s your naughty voice. It means he’s going to want to do awful, terrible things to you out of pure endearment for your cheek.

He turns, arches an eyebrow as you nearly skip up to him. Your hair is shorter.

“New haircut?” he asks as if his fingers aren’t twitching to bury in it and pull your head back.

“Yup! Thought about dyeing it orange, but decided it would clash with my flat.”

He snorts, gives in to the urge to curl a strand around his finger, watches it bounce back into place. You don’t seem to mind, sticking your cute little tongue out at him. (If you’re not careful, he’s going to put you on your knees and have you wrap it around his cock right there.)

“Sensible choice,” he replies, “yellow is more your color.”

You giggle, aren’t bothered by his flat, almost inflectionless tone. “You think?”

“Highlighter yellow. Or maybe banana.”

“Hey, I like bananas!”

He smirks. “Oh yeah? Big ones?”

You shove at him, face going hot. He doesn’t move an inch, not that you were trying hard. Touchy little thing. You remind him of those little birds that flutter around lions, picking and pecking right under their noses, amusing themselves with death.

“Don’t be icky, Riley.”

“Icky.”

“Gross nasty.”

“We’re name calling now?”

“It’s not name calling if it’s true.”

He clicks his tongue, ushers you into the building.

“There a reason for the new hair?” he asks, eyeing it. It’s pretty, don’t get him wrong. But he didn’t know you were getting your hair cut today.

“Fancy office party tonight,” you sigh, rolling your eyes. “My stylist just managed to get me in, but now I’ve gotta rush to get ready.”

“Now who said you could go out?”

“What are you gonna do, stop me?” you laugh, clearly thinking he’s teasing. He’s not. If you looked at his face, you’d know it. But you’re busy fussing with your keys, trying to unlock your door.

“I might.”

“Oh, you stop,” you huff, shaking your head. “It’s not even movie night!”

He’s been coming over once a week to watch a movie and drink with you. One of you picks the movie, the other picks the takeaway. He always chooses a horror movie, likes how your eyes water when you get truly scared. You refuse to watch slashers (haven’t told ‘Riley’ why) but you’ll indulge paranormal ones.

It’s not movie night - those are on Saturdays. This is Friday.

“What if I just kidnap you?” he asks. “Keep you in all weekend?”

You hum as if in thought, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Could I go back to work on Monday?”

“Have to see how I’m feeling on Sunday.”

You giggle. “A tempting offer, but you’ll have to settle for kidnapping me just for Saturday.”

“I don’t think you understand how kidnapping works.”

“I’d be a terrible hostage,” you say. He arches an eyebrow, inviting you to continue. “I have to pee when I’m nervous, I’d be talking their ear off - and! I cry like, so much.”

Oh he knows. He thinks of tears running down your pretty face when he cums.

“Some kidnappers like the crying. Theyre sadists.”

You scrunch your face. “But it’s like… gross crying. Total mess. And I make dying seal noises.”

No, you don’t, not in his experience with you at least. But he’s not going to explain that to you.

“Didn’t you have something to get ready for?” he asks because he’s violently wrestling the urge to make good on his threat.

“Fuck!” You glance at your watch, brows scrunching. “If I’m late, I’m blaming you, Riley Simmons.”

“Oh no.”

You stick your tongue out at him one last time and disappear behind your door.

—

He hears you come back at 11:30, has been waiting up. Pauses when he hears two sets of footsteps, a man’s voice talking to you. A wave of bloodlust nearly drowns his better sense.

You brought someone home from a work event? Did you lie to him and go on a date?

“Well, thanks for walking me to my door, Brandon.”

“Was happy to. Don’t want anyone snatching you up off the street now, do we?” An annoying laugh. Yours sounding a little flat and strained joining him.

“Oh, hey, mind if I come in?” Brandon asks. So casually, as if the yes is expected.

Simon’s hands ball into tight fists.

“Ah, it’s pretty late…”

“Well, that’s what Saturday is for, right?”

Oh. That little roach. Simon’s going to hang him by his own guts.

“I have plans tomorrow, actually.”

Good girl.

“That’s alright,” Brandon persists. “Just one drink. Least you can do since I went out of my way, right?”

“I mean, you didn’t have to, I would have been fine.”

There’s some genuine annoyance in your voice this time. Simon’s proud.

“Nah, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you go home after having drinks?” Brandon chuckles.

“I didn’t have that many - and anyway I’m here now, so…”

“And so am I. At least a little something for my troubles?”

And Simon hears just the slightest, faintest ruffle of clothes.

That’s enough.

Simon yanks his door open and steps out. You’re nearly pancaked to your own door, head snapping to him with relief.

“Riley!”

Brandon takes a step back, expression stormy. Simon almost laughs. Little prick is barely taller than you, has done hard work maybe twice in his life. His hands look softer than yours. And he’s wearing a sweater vest.

“Did we wake you up?” you ask.

Simon saunters down the hall towards you. The closer he gets, the more nervous Brandon gets. But you seem to relax a bit more with each step, even shift towards him.

Very good girl.

“Was already up.” He doesn’t look away from Brandon, radiating menace.

You hum in understanding - know Simon keeps late hours. Brandon clears his still-intact throat and you jolt a bit, expression wilting.

“Oh, um. Riley this is my coworker. Brandon, this is Riley, my neighbor.”

“How do you do?” Brandon replies stiffly.

Simon’s not playing along.

“You try to push her again, someone will be pushing you in a wheelchair the rest of your life. Understand?”

Brandon sputters while your eyes go adorably wide, expression caught between horror and gratitude. Like you don’t know if you should be condoning his threats.

“I beg your pardon?!”

“Not yet, but you will if I see you here again, yeah?”

Brandon’s face drains of blood. You press your lips together.

“Now get the fuck out. I’ve got her from here.”

Brandon, worm that he is, scurries away with a hasty “see you Monday”. You don’t reply, too busy blinking up at Simon with parted lips.

He chucks you gently under the chin, eyes narrowing in amusement.

“Off to bed. I’m kidnapping you tomorrow.”

You audibly swallow, then nod.

“Thank you.”

“Good manners.”

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist