#dude really... you were so bitter before and shit and now.

[hoshifighting]

rival fashion designer!minghao

— synopsis: where minghao flexes his fashion awards whenever your brand competes against him during fashion week. — WC: 3k — WARNINGS: explicit language, smut, reader uses a transparent clothing (just like rihanna in oscar x swarovski), oral (f. receiving) ENORMOUS DICK!MINGHAO, slight face slap, mentions of choking on a cock, penetrative sex—or trying to.

look, you weren’t trying to start beef with minghao. you don’t even know why the dude hates you so much. okay, maybe you said one thing about his fall line looking like it got snatched off the clearance rack at an IKEA. but that was a year ago. and also? you were drunk and kinda bitter ‘cause your show got bumped for his stupid avant-garde puff-sleeve renaissance clowncore shit.

but now, every fashion week is like a personal vendetta for him to humble you. you’ll be vibin’, sipping your overpriced latte in the designer lounge, and this man will just stroll in, decked out in some vintage runway piece that costs more than your annual budget, flashing that “i won best emerging designer again” smirk like it’s a fucking weapon. and then he’ll throw some casual shit like:

“oh, y/n, is that your collection over there? i thought they were setting up for the kid’s line showcase.”

[...]

so this year, you swore you wouldn’t let him get in your head. you’d play it cool, professional, unbothered. except you walk into your studio late one night, the day before your big runway debut, and this man is just there. sitting on your worktable. wearing a pearl-studded harness and leather pants so tight it should be a crime.

you freeze, halfway through the door, holding the iced coffee you begged your intern to grab five minutes before starbucks closed. “what the fuck are you doing here?”

minghao barely glances up from his phone. “your assistant let me in.”

traitor.

“why?” you slam the coffee on the counter, praying your voice doesn’t shake. the audacity of him just existing in your space is enough to make your blood boil.

he stands, slow as hell, like he’s got all the time in the world. he’s tall—annoyingly tall—so when he steps close, you’re immediately at a disadvantage. but you refuse to back down.

“just wanted to check out the competition,” he says, eyes flicking lazily over the chaos of fabric swatches and half-finished sketches strewn across the room. “cute line. very... simple.”

“fuck you, hao,” you snap, crossing your arms. “it’s called ‘minimalism.’ not that you’d know anything about taste.”

he laughs, soft and low, the kind of sound that creeps under your skin and lingers there. “oh, i have plenty of taste. i just don’t need to keep it basic to get attention.”

and here’s the thing: you hate how much he gets to you. he’s a smug asshole with an overinflated ego, but he’s also stupidly talented, and you can’t ignore the fact that his lines always sell out in under a day. or how his press coverage makes yours look like a local craft fair feature.

but what really gets you is how hot he looks right now, with his ridiculous cheekbones and the glint of that tiny silver chain peeking out from under his collar. it’s disgusting. you hate it.

you’re about to throw a cutting remark his way, something about how he’s overcompensating with all that jewelry, but he beats you to it.

“you know,” he murmurs, stepping even closer, “you’d look good in my designs.”

your brain short-circuits. “excuse me?”

“if you ever want to elevate your style...” he trails off, dragging his gaze down the length of your body like it’s a runway.

“you are so full of shit,” you hiss, but there’s no heat behind it, because your stupid traitorous brain is suddenly imagining what it’d feel like to have his hands on you.

he smirks, all teeth and danger, leaning in so close you can smell his expensive cologne. “maybe. but you’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?”

you don’t answer.

[...]

the next morning, you’re running on zero sleep, fueled by pure spite and caffeine, but your runway show? flawless. models everywhere, hair spray choking the air, seamstresses practically sewing on skin ‘cause the deadlines were that tight. and you were doing a thousand fucking things at once.

fixing a hemline here, shouting at a makeup artist there—“no, not clean girl aesthetic, we’re going full grunge today, wake up!”—all while struggling to get yourself into the swarovskied transparent gown you planned to wear for the night.

no bra, because tits were the least controversial thing in fashion. and the way the crystals draped over your skin looking likew pure art. nipples out and proud, paired with modern curls swirled to perfection and makeup that screamed chaos-but-make-it-glam.

by the time your collection hit the runway, your nerves were shredded. but watching the models strut, each piece shining under the lights... fucking worth it.

and then, the finale: your dress sweeping dramatically across the stage as you closed the parade. you bowed to the crowd, letting the cameras and whispers soak in every inch of you, and as you turned to leave, you felt it.

minghao’s sharp eyes.

you caught his eyes just as they traveled the length of you—from the swirl of your hair, to the unapologetic sharpness of your nipples under the crystals, to the shimmer of your dress, down to the towering heels on your feet.

you just smirked to yourself as you headed backstage, knowing full well your collection didn’t just crawl under his skin this time. it slithered under his flesh, wrapped tight around his ribs, and squeezed.

[...]

minghao’s models stormed the runway like it was their goddamn birthright. and of course, you watched. no designer worth their silk ignored the competition, and minghao wasn’t just competition, he was a walking masterclass in making everyone feel like second place.

he closed his show with his usual flare, stepping out like he already knew the applause was his. fast-forward two designers later, and the nominations for the fashion academy awards started rolling in. you didn’t have to look to know minghao had already claimed half the early awards.

you watched him backstage through narrowed eyes as he balanced four trophies—two tucked in his arms, two in his hands—posing for a picture with that smug-ass smile. you knew that pic was already blowing up on his Instagram. your jaw clenched, nails digging into your palm as the last nominations were announced.

and then, plot twist of the year:

your name came up five times.

designer of the year: you.

new vision in fashion: you.

collection of the year: your brand.

runway innovation: your brand.

showstopper of the year: your brand.

walking out with those five heavy-ass awards in your arms? victory tasted better than champagne. your models and team practically swarmed you, hyping you up ‘cause they knew how much blood, sweat, and tears went into this collection.

but what you really wanted... minghao. definitely minghao. minghao, in your line of sight. because after all the times he flaunted his wins like a smug bastard, you wanted him to feel this.

and lucky for you, fate delivered.

you spotted him in the back hallway, leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone. clearly, he hadn’t heard the last nominees. his head snapped up when your heels echoed through the space.

“oh, hey, hao,” you called out, voice sweet as honey but sharp as glass. you stopped just short of him, shifting the five trophies in your arms so they pressed against your chest. the weight of them pushed your tits up just enough to catch his eyes.

“looks like I’ve got... a plus one on you this year.” you smirked, shaking the awards a little for good measure, the motion making the crystals on your dress catch the dim hallway light.

his eyes flicked down—brief, subtle, but not subtle enough—and then back up, his expression neutral, but you could feel the shift in his ego.

“congrats,” he said, the word clipped like it physically hurt him.

“thanks, babe,” you purred, turning on your heel with a sway of your hips. “see you next season. maybe.”

and with that, you left, letting the click of your heels carry the weight of your victory.

[...]

days later, you were lounging in minghao’s big leather chair, legs crossed up on his table, showing the expensive ass high heels you always wore. his assistant had let you in with barely a question, and you weren’t one to waste an opportunity.

when he finally walked in, his eyes narrowed immediately. “what the hell are you doing here?”

“relax,” you drawled, leaning back like his office was a spa. “your assistant said I could wait. guess they like me more than you.”

he folded his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “didn’t think you’d show your face here after the other night. thought you’d be busy polishing all those trophies.”

you grinned, slow and smug. “oh, i polished them. just thought i’d stop by to see how you’re doing. must be hard, you know—losing.”

his jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. instead, he stepped closer, looming over you. “you done?”

“not even close,” you said, standing up to match his energy. you stopped just shy of his chest, tipping your chin up. “but don’t worry, hao. i’ll let you borrow a trophy sometime if you really need the validation.” you patted his shoulder.

he scoffed, his lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. “you know, i like your attitude.”

you raised an eyebrow. “yeah? you must, considering how much you stalk me every season.”

“maybe that’s why we should work together.”

you laughed, loud and sharp, tossing your head back. “oh, that’s rich. you? work with me? what, so you can take credit for my ideas and call it a ‘collaboration’?”

he tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “i’m serious. we’d be unstoppable.”

for a second, you almost believed him. “unstoppable, huh? what makes you think i’d even want to work with you?”

“because you like the challenge... admit it. you love it when i push you.”

“you’re intolerable.”

“and yet,” he murmured, stepping so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, “you haven’t left yet.”

your laugh came out breathy this time, your pulse quickening as his hand grazed the curve of your hip. “you think I’m staying here for you? please. your assistant let me in, remember?”

“sure,” he said. his thumb traced slow circles against your side, almost lazy. “but you’re still here.”

you were about to snap back with something cutting, something to wipe that stupid smirk off his face, but then he tilted your chin up with two fingers, his gaze locked on yours like a predator sizing up prey.

“stop thinking,” he whispered, leaning in just enough for your lips to almost touch. “you might actually enjoy yourself.”

his lips were soft and plump, moving against yours so fucking good that felt unfair. his hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him, and you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped.

your hands found his chest, the fabric of his shirt warm under your fingertips as you pushed him slightly, breaking the kiss with a smirk. “you’re bold, i’ll give you that.”

“you’re still thinking,” he teased, catching your bottom lip between his teeth before pulling back.

your hands slid up to his shoulders, gripping just enough to feel the flex of his muscles. you threatened to sit on his table.

his eyes widened slighty, his hands immediately grabbing your ass to lift you up, making you yelp. “don’t!”

“what? scared i’ll break it?” you teased, wrapping your legs around his waist.

he places the needles that were spread lazily on the table, inside of a box. he turned, his grip firm as he carried you a few steps and sat you on a nearby armchair.

“there were needles on that table, genius,” he scolded, his tone sulky but his fingers tracing slow lines along your thighs. “you’d be bleeding before I even got started.”

“aww,” you cooed, dragging your nails down his neck. “you worried about me, hao?”

“no,” he muttered, kneeling, dipping his head to kiss along your jawline, his teeth grazing just enough to make you arch towards him. “just don’t want to ruin my night with a trip to the hospital.”

your laugh turned into a soft moan as his lips found the spot just below your ear. “guess you’re not as heartless as you act.”

he pulled back slightly, his smirk sharper than ever. “you talk too much.”

you pulled him in for another kiss, your tongues colliding this time. when you tried to take control, tilting your head for a deeper angle, he pulled back just enough to make you chase him.

minghao’s hands were firm on your thighs, his thumbs brushing against your skin like he wasn’t about to wreck you in the middle of his office. his eyes dragged down, lingering on the way your skirt was pushed up, the space between your legs bare and unapologetic.

he clicked his tongue, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “no panties, huh?” he said. “came here like this?”

“what can I say?” you shot back, shifting slightly so his hands pressed harder against your skin. “i had a feeling you’d end up on your knees.”

his smirk deepened, his fingers tightening slightly as he leaned in, close enough for you to feel his breath. he pressed your legs further onto the armrests, spreading you wider, his hands splayed like he wanted to leave imprints.

his tongue flicked out, close enough to make you tense—but he didn’t touch you. instead, he pulled back, his eyes locking with yours as a smirk tugged at his lips.

he leaned in again, his tongue brushing so close you could feel the warmth from his breath, but once again, he pulled back just as you tilted your hips forward.

“hao..” you warned.

“what?” he teased, his lips hovering over your folds.

your hands gripped the armrests as you glared down at him. “if you don’t stop playing, i swear—”

he cut you off with a broad, strong lick, dragging his tongue from your entrance, through your folds, and up to your clit in one unbroken suck. your head fell back as a gasp tore from your lips.

“that shut you up,” he muttered, his voice muffled as he dipped lower, his tongue swirling around your entrance before moving back up. “needy much?”

“shut up and do it again,” you shot back, your voice sharper than the way your thighs trembled under his grip.

and he did the same. your clit throbbing at the rough skin of his tongue, making you melt on his armchair, he smiled at the sight, he knew how a good head felt after months dealing with needles and sparkly cloths.

his lips latched onto your folds, sucking them into his mouth before he pulls back just slightly, his tongue flicking against your clit in quick, teasing strokes. you let out a pornographic moan, before your clap a hand on your mouth, remembering the team outside the office. he chuckled darkly, his hands tightening on your thighs to hold you still. his lips wrapping around your clit again. this time, he sucked it fully into his mouth, his tongue flicking against it as his eyes flicked up to yours.

“you’re so good at this, hmm—fuuuck!” you said, your nails drowning in the leather of the armchair. “you must’ve practiced on a lot of other girls, huh?”

his eyes narrowed slightly, and his teeth grazed your clit just enough to make you wwhimper. “jealous?” he asked, his voice smug, though he didn’t stop the relentless motion of his tongue.

“please,” you shot back, though the way your breath hitched betrayed you as he did a zig-zag on your bud with the tip of his otngue. “you’re better when you’re silent.”

he smirked against you, his lips curving as he pulled back just enough to speak. “then shut me up.”

your fingers tangled in minghao’s hair, tugging him closer, harder, until his face was buried against your pussy. his groan vibrated through you, desperate, and his hands clamped down on your thighs to steady himself as you rolled your hips against his mouth.

“that’s it... mhmm, just like that...”

he obeyed, his head bobbing as his tongue slid against you in broad, wet strokes, his lips sealing around your clit every few seconds to suck, deep and rhythmic. the wet, obscene sounds filled the room, and your nails scraped lightly against his scalp as you held him there, guiding him exactly how you wanted.

the heat in your core coiled tighter, and you barely had time to register your orgasm hit.

your back arched, your mouth falling open as moans spilled out shamelessly. your hips rolled against his face as you came, and minghao didn’t stop—not for a second. he worked you through it, sucking and licking as though he felt your climax before you did.

he only pulled back when you began to squirm, your breath coming in sharp gasps as overstimulation took hold. his lips and chin were slick as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes glinting as he looked up at you.

“had fun?” he asked, sarcastically.

you gave a breathless laugh, your chest heaving as you leaned back in the chair. “you talk too much for someone who just spent five minutes swallowing my pussy.”

his smirk widened, and he stood, his hands braced on the armrests as he leaned down, his face inches from yours. “and you talk too much for someone who’s about to beg me to fuck her.”

your gaze flicked to his lips, and then lower—to the bulge straining against his pants. “big words,” you said. “let’s see if you can back them up.”

his hands slid to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he walked you back toward the desk—no needles this time. you didn't even had time to register what was happening before your skirt was pushed higher, his fingers brushing over your thighs as he settled you on the edge.

his hand worked his belt, the clink of the buckle making you clench around nothing.

“this isn’t gonna be quick,” he said as he freed himself, the sheer size of him making your breath catch. it was big both in length and girth.

you swallowed hard.

“relax... mhmm”

he teased your entrance with the tip, sliding it slowly against you, and the stretch was immediate, even as he slightly pressed in. your breath hitched, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as he pushed forward, achingly slow, giving you time to adjust.

“ngh—fuck!” you gasped, your voice breaking as he filled you inch by hard inch.

“breathe,” he murmured, his tone gentle despite the tension in his body. mouth glued on yours to make sure he feels your puffs of air.

“trying”

he paused, his hands tightening on your hips as he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “you’re okay,” he whispered. “just breathe for me.”

you hiccuped, your chest rising and falling in shallow gasps as your body struggled to adjust.

“there you go,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw as he waited “good girl. just like that.”

you exhaled slowly, your body relaxing slightly helping him to slid in further, the fullness stealing the air from your lungs.

your hands gripped his arms, your nails digging into his skin as he finally bottomed out, his body pressed flush against yours.

“fuck,” he muttered, his voice tight as he buried his face in your neck. “you’re—so fucking tight.”

you swallowed hard, your head tilting back as you tried to catch your breath. “you’re—so fucking big.”

he pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours as a smirk tugged at his lips. “think you can take it?”

your breath hitched, and you nodded, your hands sliding to his back as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “try me.”

minghao hips pulls back just an inch before thrusting forward experimentally. the sound that left your lips was somewhere between a moan and a strangled gasp, your nails biting into his shoulders as your body clenched around him.

he paused, a smug smile tugging at his lips as he tilted his head to the side, his eyes flicking over your face. “yeah, knew that’d happen.”

“don’t—” your breath hitched as he moved just slightly, a tiny shift that made you clutch at him even harder. “don’t fucking smile like that.”

his laugh was quiet, he leaned down, his forehead brushing against yours. “why not? you’re almost cummin already.”

“i’m not—” the words caught in your throat as he slid just a little deeper, your body trying desperately to adjust to his size.

“not what?” he asked, his tone playful as he stilled again, waiting for you to catch your breath.

“not—cumming” you managed, though your voice shook with the effort of speaking.

“hmm.” his thumb grazed your clit, circling it trying to soothe your nerves. “then why are you holding on to me likethat?”

you glared at him, though the effect was probably ruined by the way your mouth fell open with a gasp as his thumb pressed down just slightly harder.

your body tensed as he began to move again, sliding in slowly, each inch dragging against you in a way that made your head fall back. the wet squelch of your body adjusting to his girth filled the room, obscenelly.

“shit,” he muttered, his voice tight as he wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you steady. “you’re so—tight. feels like you’re trying to squeeze me out.”

“maybe i am.”

he laughed softly “you’re all talk,” he murmured, his thumb still circling your clit. “that pussy is begging for me.”

“hao,” you whispered, your hands clutching at his arms as your legs tightened around his waist. “i—fuck, i can’t—”

“you can,” he said softly, his lips moving against your neck. “breathe for me, baby. you’ve got this.”

you exhaled shakily, your chest rising and falling against his as you tried to relax, tried to let the tension in your body melt away. his thumb pressed a little harder against your clit, insistent, coaxing pleasure to override the discomfort.

“that’s it,” he murmured, his voice soft as his arm tightened around your waist. “just like that. let me in.”

your head fell back, your eyes fluttering shut as he finally slid deeper, his hips pressing flush against yours. the sensation stole the breath from your lungs, and your fingers dug into his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor you.

“you okay?”

you nodded weakly, your hands sliding up to grip his hair as you whispered, “move.”

he chuckled as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “not yet.”

your eyes snapped open, frustration bubbling in your chest as you glared at him. “hao—”

“relax,” he murmured, his thumb circling your clit again, making you cry out slyly. “i’m not gonna ruin you all at once. gotta make sure you can take it.”

“i can,”

“we’ll see,” he said, his tone smug as he finally, finally pulled back, his cock dragging against you.

“hao, just—fuck me already.”

his laugh was quiet. “you’re not ready for that yet, look—” he roll his hips, making you hiccup again. “but don’t worry—I’ll get you there.”

“how about you?” you ask, feeling your orgasm building up as he circled the thumb faster, your hips rolling slightly, weak, like the cock inside you was to heavy to make you roll them freely.

“i can get off just by looking at this pretty face...” he slaps your cheek weakly, twice, making you squeeze around him. “listen to what i'm telling you… you're still going to model for my brand.” he chuckles.

“i’d rather choke to death than work with your brand.”

“why don’t you choke on something else, then?”

[beescake]

i am in love with your sollux i think

sollux love party :]

if you’re interested heres some of my personal fondness thoughts on him.. big warning for the mega long read ahead aye

as we alr know sollux's rejection of participation somewhat mirrors dave's rejection of heroism, but even without getting cooked to completion i still find sollux's character v compelling beyond the fourth wall

as someone who doesnt get a pinch of that Protagonist Sparkle to begin with, he can openly say he wants to leave anytime…. and unlike dave, he actually Can leave the scene anytime. but he can never be truly Free from the story via permanent character death like the other trolls.

his irrelevancy is indeed relevant - he’s there so u can point him out.

while his image is intended to be a relic of past internet subculture, his role is not only about hehehaha being a Chad or a 2000s cyberforum 2²chan haxxor ragequit gamebro.

his continued existence also happens to add a Bit to the overarching themes of homestuck! a Bit that gives him longer-lasting thematic relevance compared to the trolls who could’ve had more character potential but didnt get to survive beyond the main story.

the Bit in question:

his defiance contributes to the illusion of agency (treating characters = people with autonomy). he’s “aware” of it, and that recognition is worth noting enough to forcibly keep him alive as both reward and punishment.

considering how his personality & classpect is designed its definitely a very haha thing for hussie to do LOL. he’s made to be op asf so he's resigned to doing dirty work, gradually deteriorating along the way but never truly dying. as fans have mentioned before, him openly rejecting involvement after a while of grim tolerance is like if the sim u were controlling suddenly stopped, looked up and gave u the finger while u were step six into the walkthrough for Every Possible Sim Death Animation.

but since he’s just a sim… the more he hates it, the more you keep him around. if ur sim started complaining abt your whimsical household storyline you’d definitely keep that little fuck.

but yeah i like that sollux is just idling. the significance of his presence being that one dude who's always reliably Somewhere, root core Unchanged, no individual ambitions (possibly due to fear of consequence?), and design-wise: a staple representative product of his time.

compared to dirk's character, who has aged phenomenally well into the present (themes of control + AR + artificial intelligence, clearer exploration around navigating relationships/sexuality, infinite possibilities of self-splinterhood and trait inheritance), sollux's potential is really... contained. bitter. defeatist. limiting and frustrating in the way old tech is.

the world continues moving on to shinier, brighter, more advanced automated things - minimalist and metaverse or whatever but sollux is still here 🧍‍♂️ going woohoo redblue 3d. (tho personally i imagine his vibe similar to what the kids call cassette futurism on pinterest mixed w more grimy grunge insectoid influences eheh)

conceptually-speaking,

at the foundation of it all, the rapid pace of modern development was built off the understanding of ppl like sollux in the past, who were There actively at work while the dough was still beginning to rise

thats one of the cool things abt the idea of trolls preceding humans! the idea that trolls like sollux excelled back when lots of basic shit still needed to be discovered, building structures like networks and codes from scratch, and humans will eventually inherit and reinvent that knowledge in ways that become so optimized it makes the old manual effort seem archaic, slow, and labour-intensive.

but despite information/resources/shortcuts being more accessible now, much of the new highly-anticipated stuff released on trend still end up unfinished, inefficient, or expiring quickly due to cutting corners under severe capitalistic pressures

meanwhile, some of the old stuff frm past generations of thorough, exploratory and perfectionistic development still remains working, complete, and ever so sturdy.

those things continue to exist, just outside our periphery with either:

zero purpose left for modern needs (outdated/obsolete)

or

far too important to replace or destroy, bcs of its surprisingly essential and circumstantial usefulness in one niche specific area.

which are honestly? both points that sum up sollux pree well.

dramatic ending sorry. anw are u still on the fence or are u Sick abt him like me </3

[artslovergirl]

Stanford!art as a secret admirer pleaaaaase

hiii! sorry this took me literally a month to finish i am still not very good at keeping a drabble a drabble and this one really got away from me but i promise in the future that hopefully wont be the case....anywhoo! enjoy! (ty for being my first request ever!) also shoutout to diya for helping me a bit with characterizing art having a crush on someone! mwah!

admittedly, art felt like a creep. not enough to stop sneaking glances at you across the lecture hall but definitely enough to feel hot shame crawl up his neck whenever you would accidentally meet his eye contact.

he quickly glanced away and stared back at the blackboard, trying to pretend that's what he had been looking at all along.

he began fiddling with his pen, pushing the plastic end of it nervously against his lips. he could feel your eyes on him for a few moments longer before turning back around to face the professor.

great. now you probably actually thought he was a creep. which is not exactly how he planned your first form of contact to go.

...alright, to be fair, he never had an exact plan in the first place? but "make awkward eye contact" wouldn't have been a part of it. that's for sure.

he was a little out of his element here. stanford was a hell of a lot bigger than mark rebellato was.

back there, most of the girls knew him, sometimes even liked him already or he had patrick as his wingman. (or when it came to tashi, competition.) but here? he felt so unsure all of a sudden. it felt like all of the experience he had with dating seemed completely useless.

when he first saw you, he was still pretty infatuated with tashi. but that doesnt mean he didnt notice how hot you were. as more time passed the more he realized that tashi and patrick were apprently locked in (go figure the dude finally learns commitment just in time. read bitterness.) and the more he saw you, the more he heard you talk in class, the more he saw you laugh with your friends, the more you wouldnt leave his mind. not to mention how fucking smart you were. well, are.

the lecture ended and as always you were one of the first people out the door. you were always in a rush. or maybe you just had another class all the way on the other side of campus?

he wondered what your major was. he wondered if you knew he played tennis. he wondered if it would even impress you if you found out. he hoped it would.

---

art was sitting in the cafeteria stabbing his fork into his salad that consisted of like 70% veggies and 30% eggs.

he had to say, he was definitely getting sick of eggs at this point. he took a small sip of his gatorade.

usually, he drank blue, but he decided to try red today. maybe because it was patrick's favorite flavor or maybe because he needed at least a little change in routine.

unfortunately, as he went to place the bottle back down on the table, he almost knocked it over as soon as he suddenly noticed you standing by the vending machine. and then turning around. and.. walking towards him? holy shit.

at first, he thought you would just walk past him, but you stopped at his table. he didn't know if he believed in god, but at that moment, he certainly felt like a favorite.

"hey," you smiled politely, "sorry to bother you, but do you happen to have a quarter? that thing doesn't seem to take nickles." you nodded your head towards the vending machine at the entrance of the cafeteria.

"uh." his brain tried to play catch up. "um, yeah, let me check." he let out a small chuckle so he wouldn't sound so nervous, but it sounded more like he was wheezing. he pulled out his wallet, ripped apart the velcro, and checked. he silently celebrated when he noticed he did, in fact, have a few quarters. "yeah, how many do you need?" he looked up at you. his cheeks felt hot.

"oh, just one is fine." he nods, and suddenly, in front of your presence, it seems a lot harder to properly grab the quarter from his wallet. he does manage, though, and as he hands it to you, he feels your fingers brush against his palm.

as if transferred from your fingertips to his palm it felt like a surge went through his body, traveling through his arteries and sparking at the tips of his fingers and toes. you hand him your nickels in exchange. before you could turn to leave, he quickly interjected, "we're in the same class, right? english literature?"

he didnt know where he was going with this, he just wanted to keep talking to you.

your eyes flashed with recognition.

"oh, yeah! art, right? you sit behind me?" you knew his name. "yeah, yeah, that's right." he nodded, his fingers drummed against the table. there was a short lull in the conversation as he desperately tried to grasp for anything to talk about that wouldn't seem like he was hitting on you (even though he kind of was.)

"so, uh, this is actually good timing because i've been sorta meaning to talk to you anyway?" his lips pulled into a familiar charming lopsided smile.

"oh, really?" you tilted your head. "yeah." he nodded, his hand going to fidget with curls on the back of his neck that stuck out of his backwards cap.

"i, uh, need some help with some of the material, and, you know, you're so good-"

"oh, i'm not that-"

"nah, c'mon no need to be modest," there's that grin again, "i don't think i've ever seen you get a question wrong."

you huff, feeling embarrassed at the unexpected praise, "well, it's literature, so it's all interpretation, it's hard to be outright wrong."

"see, that answer just confirms it." he says.

you chuckle, finally giving in and accepting the compliment. "so..you want my help then?" he nods. he really prayed you would say yes because this was really his only plan on how to get to know you.

you mulled over it for a few seconds. then you nodded. "yeah, okay, let me give you my number and we can figure out the details later. i got another class in like-" you glanced back at the clock, "shit, 3 minutes."

you hastily ripped a piece of paper out of your notebook scribbled a number on it and left it on the table. "oh, and thanks for the quarter!" you yelled back (even though you didn't even get to use it) before booking it out of the cafeteria. guess he was right about you always being in a rush.

---

4:58 pm. 2 more minutes till you'd knock at his door. art did another once over of his room. now he wasn't exactly a messy guy but he had to admit his dorm had never been this clean before. actually maybe it was too clean...would you think that was weird? like would you think he was a neatfreak? girls probably weren't into that.

he began messing up his bedsheets just a little so it wouldnt look like he had just spent the past three hours obsessively cleaning every inch of his dorm. even though thats exactly what he did.

it was a pretty small room but you'd be surprised how long it can take to clean if you're doing a real deep clean. not to mention the pain in the ass that doing laundry in college was.

he did all of this because, keeping true to your word, you did make plans with him to help him out with some of the reading.

you : does 5pm on saturday work 4 u?? :-)

art : Yeah, I'm totally free!!

(in hindsight the two exclamation points were probably a bit much.)

just as he was about to check out his hair for the 5th time today, there was a knock on the door. he glanced at the little digital watch on his wrist. 5pm sharp. wow, you were punctual. was it weird that he found that hot?

art quickly brushes a few unruly curls that were sticking out of his backwards cap away with his fingers before moving to open the door.

---

"so, what's the exact stuff you're having trouble with?" you peered at him from his bed, which you were sitting on, which he was being very cool about.

you had asked him if it was okay to sit there after you had exchanged a few pleasantries and then chatted for about 10 minutes.

it was mostly about class at first, then turned into more personal topics. you asked him if he was on the tennis team, because of all the..well..tennis gear in his room.

he nodded and told you about his tennis scholarship. you chuckled and said you had never really watched any matches at stanford so far, but you'd like to see him play.

he really tried to not seem overly enthusiastic about that but he did tell you the exact time and date of his next match.

apparently, you thought the sport seemed "really impressive". ( i.e. you were impressed. i.e. you were impressed by him playing tennis. or that's at least how he heard it.)

then, after he found out you were an english major, which wasn't a surprise, you finally brought up the topic of studying.

he spun in his desk chair, to face you.

"just some of this..interpretive stuff...i feel like i never know what the professor wants to hear from me." he tapped the end of his pen against the book he was holding. "well.." you shifted into a cross-legged postion, you were wearing shorts and he was trying really hard not to stare at your legs.

"you probably shouldnt be thinking about that in the first place, you know, what the professor wants to hear? you should think about what you actually got from the book." he knew this was pretty standard advice but when you said it, it sounded like the most intelligent, world-changing thing he'd ever heard.

"riiight...what if i didnt get anything from it?" he smiled sheepishly, leaning his head on his hand. you scrunched up your nose and playfully rolled your eyes, "oh, come on, how can you read classic literature and not get anything from it? i don't believe that."

you scooted forward a little. a little closer to him. a nervous chuckle left his lips, his gaze swept back and forth between you and the book before settling on you.

truth be told, he was doing fine, at least grade-wise, and even if he wasn't, it wasn't like he was striving to become an english professor, he mostly decided to take this class on a whim. but the part about struggling with interpretations was true, it just maybe wasn't necessarily a dire enough situation to require your help...

"well, maybe youre not asking yourself the right questions before you read." you hummed, gently tapping your finger against your leg. "can i see your notes?"

art panicked a bit at that. he wasn't sure why, but suddenly someone looking at his notes felt oddly intimate. you would be able to read the bits and parts of the book he regarded as important enough to jot down. what he liked. what he didn't like. perhaps it was a little intimate.

he tried to play it casual, though, and nodded as he handed you his english lit folder. his nerves only got worse the longer you took to read through them.

then suddenly, you smiled and nodded a little bit before looking up at him again. he prayed that you couldn't see the way his heart was trying to escape his ribcage right now.

"you know, you couldve just asked me out."

before his brain could even process that sentence, his mouth seemed to go into immediate action to splutter out some kind of denial in order to salvage this, "what? i- no, no, that's not- i mean, seriously why would-"

"i mean, i wouldn't have said no. like you didn't have to pretend to need my help. you clearly don't need it-" you gently tossed his folder back onto the desk. "-plus you're cute."

he didn't move for a good few seconds until he finally caught up to what had just happened.

now, this would've been the moment where he would've liked to be really cool and smooth in his response, but instead what happened was: "um..so then are we..like are you.."

in his defense you kind of caught him off guard. like completely. he had had a plan. how the study sessions would transition into friendship, and then maybe, hopefully at some point would transition into dating. he was a patient guy, really, and you had just skipped like...everything.

"are you free tomorrow?" you asked, as you stood up to grab your bag. wow, you were really taking the wheel at this point. and he discovered that he had shockingly little problem with that.

"uh, yeah, yeah i'm free..like all day." he did have training in the morning but he truly would skip it just this once if it came down to it.

"2pm?"

"sure."

"i'll text you?"

"okay."

"so..it's a date?"

you had stood up from the bed and were suddenly already on your way out. probably because you could tell he needed a minute.

"yeah, a date." he nodded with a (almost lovestruck) smile he hadn't even noticed had snuck its way unto his lips. you reciprocated with an equally excited grin, "cool."

before he knew it, the door had clicked shut, and he was alone again. he felt warm.

"cool."

[cheriladycl01]

My love, is mine all mine - Max Verstappen x Norris! Reader x Charles Leclerc Part 6

Plot: Norris' Twin sister is also a driver in the 2021 line up and is in her rookie era. Not only do the commentators struggle to now talk about the pair in the race, but they also struggle to talk about talent. What happens when two drivers find her eye-catching.

A/N: I've brought Luisia into things because of the timeline and it being 2021. Don't hate on her, or the fact that i've brought her into my writing please!

After the shit show of a party, you woke up earlier than everyone else and left the docked boat. You caught the earliest flight back to the UK. You were so pissed with your friends and brother that they’d just up and left you in the club.

The whole flight home, you pondered whether you just really needed to grow up about ever situation in your life.

Lando and the clubbing group leaving you? They were drunk and probably saw you with loads of other people and assumed you were safe and good.

Charles admitting his feelings for you? You arguably needed to focus more on your career that you’d worked so hard for, you didn’t have time for boys and if Charlie really did care for you like he said, he would understand.

Max sleeping or dating your best friend? Good for him, he should be happy.

You needed to not be bitter about all of these minor blips in your life and just get on with it.

Little did you know that this would create a version of you so far from her normal bubbly self that even people who hadn’t spoken to you in years would be able to tell something wasn’t right with you.

Max and Charles had both tried to contact you through texts and phone calls all which had been ignored, you knew it was for the best to just let it all go and leave it at a what could have been. You had responsibilities far greater that you needed to focus on.

When it came to after the summer having left your brother and gone travelling on your own, updating your Instagram and family group chat whenever you managed to get wifi, you were back and raring to go for your home race.

Lando had sent a text to the family group chat asking who would be coming. He wanted to invite Luisa and only had two passes to give out. So that would mean one for Luisa and one for his dad.

Lando - Can you give your paddock passes to mum and Flo, Cisca can’t make it because of Uni

Y/N - Kinda awkward i had someone in mind i wanted to bring :(

Lando - come on its mum and your little sister Y/N don’t be rude and give up your pass to some random dude you met in Bali …

You ignored it, before going to McLaren and begging Zac for a spare paddock pass. You gave your original 2 to your mum and Flo, but your next one went to Nathan Bishop, he was a goalkeeper for Manchester United and you’d met him on a trip you’d been doing in Bali and he immediately knew who you were and you guys got talking and one thing led to another and you were inviting each other to your sports.

In the time you’d travelled he’d became a really good friend and you didn’t feel as lonely as you had since starting in F1. It was really refreshing.

You met him before, driving him to the paddock in your McLaren and pulling up into the Silverstone car park together.

“Thanks for the pass, I’ve never been to a race before so this is actually really exciting for me” he smiles waiting as you grab your bag from the back seat.

“Always welcome!” You grinned back.

“Mmmm and I’m excited to see if you are really as good as you say you are!” He teases elbowing you as you swipe your pass through the paddock scanners.

“Hey! I am a good driver! I got you here safely didn’t I?” You smile and he just nods, you point out various bits of the paddock talking about all the hustle and bustle and all the different teams and the workers running around fitting last minute bits to the motorhomes.

“Oh come on! We need to get you some McLaren team merch!” You grin pulling him to the quiet fan zone thanks to the early time it was and going to the merch stool.

“Hiya! Oh Y/N! How are you?” The worker smiles noticing it’s you.

“Hey! I’m really good! How are you? It’s hot today, make sure you drink lots of water! Radio through and ask for top ups yeah? And don’t forget sun cream!” You chide knowing sometimes the workers forget that they are humans and will push themselves till breaking point!

“Thank you! Really and I’m all good” she says flashing you the large icy bottle of water she had behind the stand with her. “What can I get for you?”

“Any chance we can get the Y/N number hat?” You grin turning to look at Nathan who just rolls his eyes but can’t help the smile that comes into his face.

“Sure! We have lots on stock today, as you know it’s home race! Good luck by the way! I know you’ll do great!” She smiles and hands you the number 42 on the baseball cap. You place it on Nathan’s head who just laughs at your antics but keeps that hat on before paying the lady for it in cash.

“Hey! I was gonna pay for it! I’m the one that got you to buy merch!” You exclaim in horror.

“Mmmm but it’s my hat … so I should pay for it!” He explains with a cat like grin.

“Argh fine come on! I want to show you round the garage and do track walk with you!” You say gently taking his hand and pulling him through the growing numbers of people in the paddock.

You showed him all around the garage and even let him sit in your car which he was really impressed with how low to the ground it felt, and how much the halo restricted vision. After showing him the pit wall and all of the engineers working and running around before free practice you took him out onto the track to do a walk.

The sun wasn’t as harsh anymore and it had started to cloud over a little bit meaning that the track walk wasn’t as strenuous as you anticipated it would be.

You guys walked around talking about the season so far and how it felt being a rookie along with Yuki Tsunoda.

Afterwards it was time for you to have a team meeting and you didn’t want to leave Nathan on his own so you walked him to the hospitality suite to find your parents.

“Mum Dad! Hey this is Nathan! Can you just watch out for him while I’m in the car please!” You ask kindly showing Nathan to a seat with your family.

“Of course sweetheart! Hi Nathan, I’m Adam, this is my wife Cisca” he introduces standing up slightly and leaning forward to shake the younger gentleman’s hand.

“You gonna be okay?” You ask, unsure if you should just bring him to the garage and find him a seat and headphones and leave him there.

“Yeah - I’ll be” he starts only for commotion behind to stop his words.

“Sorry, I’m running late. Oh … whose this?” Lando asks looking over to Nathan, someone he didn’t think would be around his family.

“This is your sisters guest, hence the hat” your mum explained pointing to the hat still on Nathans head.

“Right … yeah I just came here to drop Luisa off. Please look after her and … you know don’t be weird” he begs as Luisa starts to talk to both Flo and Nathan.

“We’re never weird! Now you both have to go get ready!” your dad grins forcing you both away.

You start to walk together to the garage in an awkward silence until Lando breaks it.

“So you brought a boyfriend with you?” Lando scoffs looking towards you.

“And what if I did?” What’s it to you, you brought Luisa!” You say looking to him confused why it was such an issue you’d brought a guy (who wasn’t anything to do with you romantically).

“Because your playing with a lot of hearts here Y/N and it’s not exactly fair. First Charles, then Max, then Charles again and then Max and now this guy? Max and Charles are my friends Y/N and I can’t help but feel like your going to go one step too far and ruin all of this …” he complains and for a second your stunned into silence not knowing what to even say.

“How am I toying with Max and Charles when Max is off with my best friend and Charles … is so hot headed that I don’t know if I can take the heat of him yelling at me for an overtake every race weekend! So how am I the one playing with hearts when it’s feels like mines the only one being toyed with, even by my own fucking brother!” You cried out frustrated with him, but that was Lando. He always spoke before he thought about what he was saying. Both a blessing and a curse.

You started to hurry off no longer wanting to entertain this conversation.

“Y/N wait … I didn’t mean it like that” Lando admits speeding up after you and walking in step with you trying to slow you down.

“We have a meeting to get to. Let’s not waste anymore time” you say coldly, so coldly it actually caused Lando to shiver as he never had heard that tone of voice or anything remotely close come from you.

Briefing for what it was, was pretty boring only talking about the upgrades they’d brought to this weeks Grand Prix. Lando had the full package and you had half, the others to come next week in Hungary.

You were in the garage after changing into your fireproofs, your race suit hanging down off your hips talking to your engineer about strategy for Silverstone, but it was always changeable depending on the track temp and the weather.

FP1 clearly showed Landos new flashy upgrades and how much quicker it made the car placing him in P2 in between Max and Lewis, the two battling it out for the championship this year.

As for you down in 9th you’d just been testing the track and were on different tyres to the top few people, wanting to test out the hards.

As the weekend progressed and the less you concentrated on all of yours issues and just had fun while concentrating on the race weekend you got better. Ending up starting in a decent P6 for the race and getting points in the Sprint that was held earlier on in the day.

“Okay Y/N, it’s looking like Plan B. Reports of rain on the radar for the last half of the race” your engineer says as you pull up into your P6 stop, next to Lando both your Orange McLarens locking out your row.

“Okay, do we have a pit plan?” You ask knowing you were on mediums in hopes they’d last long enough to get you onto Intermediates or Wet if it’s due to rain that badly.

“We’re checking now, looking into stuff with Lando too and seeing what the other teams and looking at doing, but looking like Pit Plan E”

“Yep, copied” he grit out unhappy that they are already prioritising your brother.

“Well Y/N let’s get racing for you first F1 home race! Lecelrc and Bottas in front of you and Lando, Alonso and Vettel behind you and both. And then Max and Hamilton front row” he explains, you knew you had to get a good start to overtake your brother and possibly Charles if there was an opening so as you were driving round the formation lap, you cleared your mind of everything but racing.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul l @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall l @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 20

part 1 | part 19 | ao3

"Eddie! Hey!" he brightens. Tells himself to take it down a notch; schools his face and voice into something a little less pathetically eager. “What’s up, man?” 

“Not much, dude,” Eddie teases, one dimple popping out. He looks good. Dressed up. Red and black flannel with the top buttons undone; light dusting of chest hair on pale skin, the edge of a tattoo Steve’s never seen. He’s got his black leather jacket and black jeans with no holes and black riding boots on. All he’s missing is a motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm.

“What’s with the, uh…?” Steve gestures to his outfit, because he realizes he’s sort of just been staring at the dip of his throat. Eddie raises an eyebrow. Steve clarifies, “You got a date or something?” 

“Oh, this?” Eddie laughs. “Uh, no. Nope. Can’t say that I do.”

He hops up backward onto the counter, his ass right next to Steve’s elbow, legs dangling over the edge, and he ignores Steve’s protests to get down from there as he leans in to ask in a mischievous hush, “Can you keep a secret?” 

Steve’s breath catches in his throat, twists into a bitter twinge of nerves. He can keep a lot of secrets. Maybe he learned that from his dad.

“Yeah…?” He leans in on his elbows.

Eddie moves in closer still, cups his hand around his mouth and whispers, “I totally forgot to do laundry last week.” 

Oh, my god. “You’re an idiot,” Steve laughs. “That’s your big confession?” 

Eddie’s smile widens. “Yeah. I got distracted with rehearsals. This was the only clean shit I had left.” He kicks one leg out straight to show off his boot. “I’m only wearing these so you can’t tell I don’t have socks on.”

“Gross!” Steve laughs harder and shoves at Eddie, who tumbles theatrically over the edge of the counter, flinging himself to the ground and rolling onto his back so he can fake a couple death spasms and then lie there with his tongue lolling out of his mouth like a fucking weirdo. “You’re so weird.” 

“This night sucked before I showed up, and you know it,” Eddie says from the floor. He opens one eye to wink at Steve, then he gives one final death twitch and drops the act, popping back up to mirror Steve’s pose, elbows propped on the counter between them. 

Steve’s arm hair stands on end. “How was your show, anyway?” 

“Oh, it was greeeat,” Eddie says. “Drunk assholes yelling slurs at me, Gareth barfing in the bushes. Standard Hideout gig.”

"Was someone harassing you?" Steve frowns. He knows the Hideout's a shithole — a ‘dependable dumpster fire where we practice for the gigs that actually pay us,’ as Eddie had put it — but he thought the people there were, like, accepting, or whatever.

Surely Eddie's style isn't any more out there than the rest of the regulars.

"Holster your eyebrows," Eddie sighs, "it was fine. Really.” 

“Holster my— dude, what?”

“Your eyebrows,” he repeats. He reaches out with the tip of his pointer finger and gently prods the space between them. “At ease, gentlemen.”

“So weird,” Steve says again. He rolls his eyes and swats Eddie’s hand away, and Eddie just laughs and says ‘There we go!’ because his antics actually did get Steve to unfurrow his face. Little bastard. “Were you gonna rent something, or…?”

“Hell no, my late fees are fucking ridic—”

Eddie cuts himself off, his eyes darting over Steve’s shoulder.

He goes skittish all of a sudden, starts backing toward the exit, stammering, “Ridiculously non-existent. Is, uh, is what I was gonna say. Obviously. Um. Right.” 

His back hits the front door, the bell jangling overhead, and before Steve gets a chance to ask what the hell his problem is now, Eddie starts rambling at triple speed that “Dustin wanted me to check in on you and now I have checked in on you so okay-gotta-go-bye” and practically sprints out of the store.

Doesn’t even look back to give Steve a parting wave. 

What the fuck?

What the fuck?

“What. the fuck…” Steve jumps a foot in the air at the sound of Robin’s voice. He whips around to look at her; realizes she must have been what spooked Eddie. Her nose and cheeks are bright red from the cold, her eyes bugging out of her head, and her jaw is halfway to the floor as she gapes at him, “...was that?”

—

part 21

tag list part 1 below cut comment if you want to be added tomorrow

@heartsong18 @hellion-child @hiimlevi @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @jaytriesstuff @littlebluejane @lololol-1234 @marklee-blackmore @melonmochi @messrs-weasley @mrsjellymunson @mugloversonly @nburkhardt @nerdyglassescheeseychick @noodle-shenaniganery @notsopersonalcharlie @novelnovella @nuggies4life @pending-dope-username @perseus-notjackson @ppunkpuppyy @questionablequeeries @remosdeerica @runninriot @sadcanadianwinter @shamelesspatrolshepherdcowboy @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutforcoffein @solalasoforth @spookednsaucy @steddieas-shegoes @steddie-island @stevesbipanic @steves-strapcollection @taleah-bonnick @teatimeeverybody @th30ra3k3n @thealwithnoname @thespaceantwhowrites @thestarslittleking @thesuninyaface @trensu @violetsteve @wormdebut @yourmom-isgay @zoeweee @zombiecreatures

[pastlivesxpastlie]

I don’t wanna get in your way…

Vessel x m!reader • strangers to lovers

A snowstorm. A broken heater. Two lonely guys. What could go wrong?

strangers to lovers, instalove, shy!vessel, concierge!m!reader, they’re both clueless doormats, close proximity, snowed in together, flirting, teasing, consent and checking in, making out, slight praise kink, blowjob (vessel + reader receiving), brief deep throat, “mate” as a silly pet name

taglist: @lifemod17 @glitterghost @inv3ga @adenobabe @jeriiicho @ivys-thick-juicy-thighs @milk--bones @myaudiocommentary @kittydothedishes @intake-of-breath

🖤 18+ MDNI🖤

You’re not quite sure how you and everyone else in your sleepy tourist-trap of a town missed the announcement about snowstorm, but here you are fielding calls at the check-in desk about vacancies at the cabin (there were none), if the roads were clear over there (they were not), and if you’re open (“I answered didn’t I?” But you’d never say that). You have time for half an inhale after hanging up with someone before the phone rings again. After a closed mouth scream you answer through clenched teeth with a syrupy customer service voice.

“Thank for you calling Lodges at Eden, yes we’re open and yes we’re freezing here too, how can I help you today?”

“Uhm. Well,” the man on the other line starts. You look down at the phone and see the blinking light next to “Cabin 1.” Shit. It’s a guest. “Sorry to bother, mate, but uh…the heat’s playing up in Cabin 1. Is there a chance someone can come look at it? If not it’s totally fine or-“ Shit! It’s the handsome English guy who visits each December.

You wipe a hand down your face to muffle the heavy sigh. If this guy is having heat issues, then soon the rest of cabins probably would, too. And…you’re the only one working today who’s cared to learn how to work on the heat until the HVAC company can come out. So you’d have to face him after being snippy on the phone and face the bitter cold, all in one fell swoop.

“Sure, no problem. I can be over there in 10 minutes, ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, thank you. Really, take your time.”

This dude was too polite. You know how cold it can get even when the heat is working, and it’s almost like he’s resigned to it. You get your gloves on and shrug on your heavy jacket, setting out for the cabin. When you knock on the door, you’re greeted by your too-good-for-this-world guest who is pilled in a hoodie, sweats, a beanie, and a knit scarf. A lopsided smile tugs at his lips as he keeps one arm tucked against himself.

“Hey, you got here fast.”

“Of course I did—you need help.” You walk in and are immediately hit with a blast of cold air. It’s not the HVAC was out, the heater was out, leaving the blower working overtime to emulate a meat freezer. “Fuck,” you exclaim rubbing your hands together, “sorry. That was inappropriate but holy shit it is uninhabitable in here!” This gets a little chuckle from the guy. How is he not livid right now? You go to the thermostat and attempt to override the AC with your code, but it’s no use. You’re no HVAC professional and you don’t want to bullshit the guy. “Alright, so, it’s off now, but that doesn’t mean it will necessarily warm up in here.”

The tall guy nods and sucks in his lips, pondering something. You catch yourself studying his face, the gentleness of it. He looks like he couldn’t be moved to anger in the first place. He shudders from the cold and takes a shaky breath before speaking. “Right. Makes sense. Well, in that case, could I get some extra blankets? Don’t really want to venture out for new lodging and…I doubt you even have other vacancies or…”

“How are you not ballistic right now?” You ask with a hint of wonder.

He blushes and rubs the back of his neck. “S’not your fault, mate. Genuinely, I’ll be alright with more blankets.” His face is beet red from the cold and his shyness. It’s sweet. Something stirs in your belly. Sure you have fleeting crushes on guests—sometimes they’re flash-bang thoughts of how it would be to share the cabin with them for a night, other times you wonder what it would be like to explore your little town with them, hand in hand, seeing it through new eyes. But this was a very general warm, gushy, “heart-eyes,” feeling. Maybe you just felt bad for the guy. But then again he was being more than nice…he was being sweet. You take a deep breath and bite the bullet.

“Look. I don’t feel great about just giving you some blankets and calling it good. Hell, I don’t even think our spare space heater would do much. I…I’m renting a little apartment above the concierge office…check-in…thing… the heat in there always works. Too good sometimes. Stay there for the night. Or however long you need. And I wil—“

“What about you!?” He looks at you like you’ve asked him to do something unspeakable.

“I can…stay in here or…sleep in the lobby. No one is going to come in there when I close up. Because, it’s locked, and—“ you rub your neck and stare at the ground like it’s incredibly interesting. Your new tall friend cuts you off.

“If it’s for the night, just let me sleep on the couch or something. Come on, mate. Don’t…don’t set yourself on fire to keep me warm. You don’t even know me.” There’s a pause. He mindlessly licks and bites his lower lip as he studies your face for a second. “But, seems like we could friends.”

“…Yeah. Friends,” you say, breathless from his stare. “Well…I close up in about 30 minutes, but I have to put a work order in for the HVAC so, might be close to 45 minutes before I’m back in my room. So…you could uhm…” He looks around a bit awkwardly.”

“Right, yeah, I’ll, pack my stuff. Not a lot. Just here to write and…well you didn’t ask…” he says quickly as he starts stuffing things in a backpack.

“Hah, no worries. Just come to reception when you’re ready.”

“Yeah, cheers, man. Thank you.” No man has ever given you such a sincere thank you. Not here at least. Here, you were the fix-it and go-get-it boy. People said “thank you” but that’s because they knew you were just doing what you’re told. This guy seemed to genuinely appreciate you already. It was a strange, warm feeling. It felt nice, but that didn’t mean you needed to imagine him bundled up under a blanket on your couch as he typed away at his computer or what it might feel like to warm his hands with yours. It’s just a nice, friendly feeling. At least that’s what you tell yourself.

About an hour later, you’re wondering if he’s actually coming. You run through the different scenarios. Maybe the heater fixed itself (unlikely). Maybe he found somewhere else to stay (unsafe considering the roads, but fair). Or he noticed how you looked at him for a bit too long between sentences (highly likely, valid, and worthy of banishment). But the creak of the lodge door pulls you from your worries, and there he is. He gives you the same shy lopsided smile and awkwardly stands at the check-in desk. “Hi…do you have a honeymoon suite with a hot tub and mini bar available?” He asks sheepishly. His little attempt at breaking the tension is adorable and makes you chuckle.

“I am sooo sorry, but that suite is for couples only. So unless you’ve got someone you can call…” you tease. He rolls his eyes and laughs.

“Quite the single-phobic policy. Bet you came up with that one, yeah?” he shoots right back with a cocked eyebrow.

“I did. I get the satisfaction of hating lucky, happy couples when I book them and disappointing single people when I turn them away.” You shrug. “Just bring everyone down with me.”

He snorts but his face goes back to serious and stoic. “What a charming young man. Bet the girls love that.”

“They would if they could get me,” you joke as you look at your nails. He gets your meaning immediately and shakes his head.

“Oh, so we will definitely be friends then.” You’ve never locked up the lodge faster, but you don’t make it up to your room just yet. He presses you against the door, his excitement resting between his thigh and your ass. You let out a shaky sigh as his hands run down your sides. It’s a firm grip that tightens when he leans in pants against your ear. “How big’s that bed of yours up there, hm?”

“Big enough…” you grind back into him, “for spooning. Someone on top of the other. Take your pick.” He growls against your neck and timidly lets his hand trail below your belt. “Wait!”

He pulls back quickly with his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” He looks miserable and worried, making your heart melt.

“No, no,” you shoot forward and cup his face. “I just need to know your name.” He smiles has your thumb rubs over his bottom lip. You give him your name and lean forward a bit more. “And who do I have the privilege of sharing my bed with tonight?” His hands run down your back and cups your ass.

“Call me Ves,” he purrs before placing a sweet, chaste kiss on your pout. “….was that ok,” he asks, whispering shyly. Your eyes are still squeezed shut as you process how sweet he is all while being so goddamn tempting. You can only answer by leaning back in for another kiss. His face feels perfect in your rough hands, which are weathered from the cold and having to do so much work around the lodges. But he wants you to stay put. His arms snake around you as your fingers move to hold him right behind his ears. Ves moans in your mouth and gives your ass a firm squeeze. “Fuck, mate,” he pants.

“Hmm…is that what you’re into? Playing with your ‘mates’?” You chuckle with your tongue out.

“You have no idea.”

It’s a race to your attic apartment. Ves pops you with a little spank as he gets past you on the stairs. “Idiot. You won’t know which way to go with out me,” you call up to him. Damn this weasel of a man is fast. When you get to the second story corridor, he’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a sly smirk across his perfect lips.

“Does it always take you that long?”

“Are you always that fast,” you tease back as you unlock the door. Ves steps into your humble abode and puts his stuff down. It’s much toastier in here than most of the cabins, which almost seems unfair. He looks a bit sheepish, like maybe he’s changing his mind. “Hey…alright there?”

Ves looks up with a little smile. “You’re being…outrageously kind to me. And…hot. Why me?”

The question gives you pause. You consider your answer for a bit because you’re not doing this for moral gain and certainly not just to get laid. “I’ve worked a lot of stressful shifts here. I’ve had a stressful life. You’re one of the few strangers who has never asked me for anything. You were ready to freeze to keep me ‘inconvenienced,’ which by the way was just your perspective. So I ask you this…Ves…why not you?”

This elicits an eyeroll and tsk. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“Like what?”

“The kind that…fuck…makes a pathetic man like me fall in love too fast.”

“Takes one to know one, perhaps…?”

In two quick steps he’s on you again. One hand holds the back of your head while the other snakes under your shirt. His hands are still cold, making you shiver. Ves pulls away for a second to chuckle at you before licking softly into your mouth. You capture his tongue between your lips and move as if you’re sucking him off. A throaty pathetic moan reverbs against your lips before you both stumble to the couch in a jumbled embrace. Ves stands up just to look down at you with a ravenous stare. “You want it?”

You’re out of breath as you sit lazily on the couch, head spinning. “Want…want…what?”

Ves smiles a little and his chest heaves a bit faster with his breath. “You know…don’t you.”

The thrill of finding another non-straight stranger who is your type clouded your judgements and inhibitions but it comes crashing down when you’re faced with this decision. You weren’t much of a thrill seeker like this. Hook-up culture wasn’t your thing but this felt different. Something rewarding could maybe come from this. But you also felt safe enough to say, “no. I don’t want it. I’ve never…never done it with another guy…but I know I want you, Ves. Would you still have me? Even if I’m…I’m not ready?”

The softness and tenderness in his face makes you want to cry. Is this moment even real? Ves shakes his head and chuckles softly. “You could make me sleep on this couch right now and never touch me again, and I would still wait for you to be ready.”

Your mouth quirks up in a surprised smile, your words sputtering a little as you take in the nicest thing you’ve heard from a lover. “What are you, a poet? And…why me?” you whisper.

Ves waves off your first question with a groan. “Why not you, hm?” Without moving your gaze you unbuckle your belt and start to take off your jeans. Ves kneels between your legs and takes over getting you naked. He’s not wasting anytime. You can see the flames of lust in his eyes as they land on your cock for the first time. He licks his lips and cracks his neck. “Got a preference? Hands versus mouth, that is.”

You want to say ‘anything please daddy whatever you think,’ but that’s a bit much right off the bat. “Uhm uh…no preference. Love both, honestly.”

Ves nods and grins as he moves closer. He massages your warm, hairy thighs and bites his lips as your tummy moves up and down quickly. “You like that? Muscles are tight…you work too much, huh?” He moves his hands up to lift your shirt, smiling and moaning softly as more of your skin is revealed. Leaning over, he places feather light kisses down your chest and stomach, his hoodie creating a soft, warm barrier between his body and your shaft. You’re desperate to feel him but there’s something about a guy on his knees looking cuddly and adorable and being desperate for your cock. He makes a show of kissing your belly and making his way to your lap again. He lets his left hand trail lazily along your stomach as he finally takes your cock. His eyes close but his face betrays how he really feels—he’s in heaven. A soft moan vibrates against you as he works only a bit of you at a time. This shallow mouth fucking is teasing but you feel like he’ll make it worth your while. He pulls off and lets a line of spit coat the head of your cock to keep it nice and lubed. Ves jerks your cock with a deft touch that makes your brain go blank. It looks exquisite in his wide hand…he makes it look exquisite.

“Ffffffuck, babe” you moan with your eyes rolling back. Your hand tangles with his hair when he sucks you again. You have no intention of maneuvering him, but you’re desperate to show any kind of affection. He doesn’t look up at you as he sucks you off, just closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy you. A strangled moan rips through you as Ves lowers his head further, letting the head of your cock just tap at his throat. “God…fuck Ves slow…slow down….”

Ves quickly retreats and sits back on his knees, panting. His lips are puffy and wet…he looks like a good boy. “Sorry.” You reply by sitting forward and pulling him in for a kiss. He pulls at your bottom lip with his, making your growl softly.

“Don’t apologize. You should be proud.” You move his hair a bit out of place to caress his temples. “Never apologize for being a good boy.”

Ves shakes his head and mixes a laugh with a sigh. “None of that, please.” You lean over and give him a chaste peck.

“I’m sorry. Can I make it up to you? With that Ves is on his feet pulling down his boxers and sweats. He moves to take off his hood but you stop him. “I like how it looks,” you say plainly before fixing your gaze to his throbbing cock. Before long it’s in your mouth…and he’s louder than you expected. His whimpers and grunts fill the room, interrupted only by your own moans and the occasional wet crackle of your throat being gently fucked. He can’t get his speaking voice above a whisper.

“You’re….you’re so good. Oh that’s it…fuuuuuck, love.” Ves holds your head with both hands and looks down at you. “I think you’re the good boy…you like hearing shit like that, huh?” His voice gets louder. “Like being used and praised?” He wrenches you off of him and stares at you as he tries to catch his breath. “Where’s your bed, mate?”

If you weren’t cock-drunk and totally gone for him you might be mad that he was still calling you “mate” but there was something about this chance encounter between barely-acquaintances that made it irresistible. You hop up and lead him to your room where you pull back your covers and land face first in your pillows. Ves pinned you against him, his hard cock rubbing against your ass as he writhes on you. He kisses and bites as your neck when your head falls back. His hand finds your cock again, and you revel in the warmth. “Feels s’fucking good,” you moan out. Your hand quickly shoots behind you to stroke Ves’s cock, but he stops you.

“Roll over, darling,” he growls against your skin. “Want to watch you.” You squirm and turn around to face him—he’s already stroking himself. “Show me what you like.”

“A-a-a-re you sure? You don’t want m-“

“Shh shh shh shh. Stroke yourself for me. Let’s watch each other.” You nod and bite your lip as you stroke yourself for him. After doing this an infinite number of times yourself, fucking your fist in front of Ves…it’s erotic. Pure pleasure for the sake of pleasure. He murmurs for you to “C’mere.” Desperate little kisses pepper your lips as the head of Ves’s cock rubs against your own, making your both moan into each others mouths.

“I’m not going to last long,” you huff.

“Me neither…s’fucking hot.”

“No, that’s you…”

Ves growls softly and quickly lifts his hoodie. “I’m imagining what you’d look like…ffffuck….bent over for me.” As he soon as he voices his fantasy, you’re imagining it too and bucking your hips into you fist harder.

“Keep talking.”

“You’d be…so…so good for me,” he whispers, “so fun to play with…just…fuck reach around and—“

He’s cut off by your gasping moan and how hot your cum is running over his knuckles…soon enough he’s cumming, too.

After you get cleaned up, you come to a little. What did you just do? Ves notices how solemn you’ve become and rubs your back. He asks if you want him to leave. You lean in, holding his face, and kiss him deeply. “Stay with me. Let’s figure this out together.”

Ves threads your hair through his fingers and studies your face. “Together.”

[lovebugism]

Spoooooky request, what if the gang went to a haunted house and everyone made fun of reader for being scared, but Steve holds her hand and walks with her 👻

thanks for requesting angel! i switched it up a bit and did a sort of second part to this fic! you def don't have to read it but it'll give some context :D — you're still getting used to the world post-vecna, but it's easier with steve holding your hand

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

The haunted house off Fifth Street looks strangely familiar. Two stories, faded cornflower paint job, boarded up windows. It looks like a dollhouse from hell. It looks like the goddamn Creel House. It’s like some kind of sick joke.

It didn’t take Hawkins very long to recover from last spring. Mostly because it was just an earthquake to everyone else. No one died, nothing was ruined beyond repair. To the rest of the town, it was just a minor natural disaster — an inconvenience more than anything.

No one knows that a thirteen-year-old girl killed the monster trying to end the world. No one knows that the local freak nearly died saving a bunch of teenagers. No one knows that one song, one heavy metal guitar, and one good memory just narrowly saved your life. 

It’s secrets all of you are gonna have to keep for the rest of your lives. It weighs you down accordingly.

“Am I crazy, or is that…?” Robin trails off, freckled chin tilted towards the velvet blue sky as she gapes at the artificially rotted house. It glows a sickly green color on the outside. The windows light up red every now and then, in time with the screams echoing from the upper story.

“Yeah,” Nancy answers, breathless and equally dumbfounded. “I think it is.”

A beat of silence falls over the group of you. It doesn’t feel so heavy with the surrounding chatter. The crowd continues to bustle around you on the street, falling over themselves with laughter and lingering fright. They have no idea the ghost story they grew up with nearly destroyed the world.

The bitter realization makes your chest ache. Steve seemingly understands this and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. You wonder if he can feel the way you tremble.

Eddie scoffs a cynical laugh from the other side of you. A pink, sadistic grin tugs at his lips, almost as wild as his curls billowing in the autumn breeze. “It’s basically kismet then, huh?”

Steve shoots the boy a half-hearted glare, then deflates because he realizes he can’t really be mad about it. Those damn demobats might’ve taken a pound of flesh from his stomach, but it’s nowhere near the feast they made out of Munson.

“C’mon on, dude,” he murmurs quietly with a subtle nod down at you.

“What?” Eddie snorts. “If I don’t laugh bout it, I’ll start crying, so… Take your pick, man.”

Steve wants to tell him that there’s no shame in crying. That he’s done it plenty of times since the fall of ’84. He’s cried for you, for himself, for the kids who will never get to be kids again. He figures it’s better than letting it all build up until you damn near explode. 

But now’s probably not the best time for that talk. Or any time, really. He’ll get you to get all serious and sappy with Eddie about that another time, just like you did for him.

“I’m gonna, uh— I’m gonna go get the tickets,” Jonathan murmurs with his usual Byers mumblings. 

He wasn’t around for the whole Vecna ordeal — just the weird shit in California and the secret lair thing in Nevada. He feels like he can be a bit braver about the whole thing for the four of you.

Nancy brushes a kiss to the boy’s cheek before he leaves. She does that a lot now, with Jonathan and all the rest of you. She always feels like she needs to say a proper goodbye and I love you whenever someone leaves. Just in case the world decides to end again.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Steve mutters to you, gaze twinkling with sincerity but stern still. “You know that, right?”

He knows that you know, but he feels the need to say it anyway. Mostly because he knows you were already scared of most things before everything went to shit. You’ve always been delicate, tender, like an open wound. Now, you can’t step outside without shaking. You’re always shuddering with the distant fear that the curse might return and no one will be there to save you.

Steve knows this, too. That’s why he holds so ardently to your trembling hand. It’s a silent reminder that he’s there, that he won’t let anything happen to you again, that he’ll always be around to save you when you need him.

“Oh, my god,” Robin groans, eyes wide and head tilted back. “Leave her alone, Steve! She’s fine!”

You know she’s just trying to be supportive. She thinks Steve’s coddling you because you’re quiet — that he’s sticking up for you because he thinks you can’t stick up for yourself. 

He is. And you can’t. But still, she’s only trying to help.

Steve looks to his left to glare at her. They seem to communicate telepathically for a moment. His eyes soften again when he turns back to you. His deep cinnamon gaze swims with a honeyed concern, a silent “Are you fine?”

You nod. “I’m okay,” you tell him, mustering a soft smile that wavers at the edges.

He doesn’t believe you, not completely, but he doesn’t press it any further.

Jonathan returns with the ticket stubs. They’re black and blood red. You take the one he gives you with hesitant, clammy hands. He seems to notice how terrified you are without you having to say a single goddamn word.

“I’m not a huge fan of these things either,” he confesses with a thin-lipped smile. A light-hearted way of telling you that you’re not alone in the fear you keep hidden (very poorly hidden, you figure).

You smile back at him, but it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. 

Your fingers fidget with the paper stub — maybe a distraction for yourself or maybe to hide how you’re too anxious to stay still. Steve figures it’s a bit of both. ‘Cause he knows you too well and not a thing gets by him. There’s nothing about you that he doesn’t notice.

He turns to face you completely while everyone else gets their ticket. He keeps his wedged between his middle and forefinger as his hands curl around the outsides of your elbows. He’s serious, but still soft — gentle, but still firm. 

“Babe—”

“Stevie,” you interject with a similar tone. “I’m okay.”

“You heard her, Stevie. She’s fine!” Robin retorts, curling her maroon-tinted lips into a smirk. She scoffs out a laugh and gestures up to the fake haunt across the street. “This shit is basically for kids. No one’s dying here, alright?”

You know what she’s doing. She’s sticking up for you and taking the piss out of her best friend at the same time. It’s nothing new — hell, it’s her favorite hobby. She’s got your back now the same way she had it in that house last spring. 

But still, her words sting a little.

Because she’s right. This place is for kids. And you still feel a bit like you’re dying.

Steve knows this, too. He knows everything about you. Even the stuff you wish he didn’t.

His sneakers scuff against the pavement when he turns to Robin. His eyes narrow in a challenging squint as he crosses his arms over his chest. He doesn’t look quite as intimidating as usual in his fluffy, cable-knit sweater. 

“Well, you know what? I’m scared, actually. I don’t wanna do it, okay? You got me, Rob.”

The girl grins something cynical. She shakes her head all slow, like she’s just caught him in some kind of lie. “I knew it. You little baby.”

Steve lets her tease him. It’s not like he isn’t used to it by now. He just rolls his eyes and bears it, lets her laugh about it with the rest of the group as they head towards the haunted house. 

You watch with an attentive gaze while they head inside, flinching softly when you hear a thunderous boom and the sound of their screaming a second later. It leaves you secretly grateful that you hadn’t gone in behind them. 

A wavering sigh tumbles from your lips, a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Steve exhales a gentle laugh from beside you. He smooths a wide palm up your spine and down again. He leans over to press the side of his hip against yours.

You cross your arms over your chest to make yourself as small as possible while you glance over at the boy beside you. You look at him so far beneath your lashes you’re basically peering at him from the corner of your eye.

“Thank you,” is all you say. It’s all you need to say.

Steve shrugs with a plush, crooked grin. “’S okay. I know you’re too sweet to say no, so…”

“I wanted to do it,” you confess, clearing your throat when your voice breaks.

“I know.”

“I guess I’m not… as used to everything as I thought.”

“I know,” Steve repeats. His hand curls around your waist and makes a home in the very center of it. He pulls you closer with the urge to melt into you. His brows raise, eyes sparkling when his smile widens. “But that’s why I’m here, though, right? We’re gonna get better together.”

You nod up at him, smiling more sincerely now. 

Arms still crossed, your hands ball into fists to fight the urge to smooth a hand through his hair — to push back the rogue chestnut strands hanging over his forehead.

You hesitate, so he beats you to the draw. He swipes a golden hand over his head right before he leans down to kiss you. 

He smacks a sweet peck to your smile. A bright light flashes with another thunderous boom a moment later. You flinch and pull back. You swear you hear Eddie screaming, “jesus fucking christ!” from the upper story. You forget to be scared.

You didn’t think it was possible. The whole getting better thing.

Steve makes you feel like could be.

[unlikelypandahologram]

Reasons to ship every single version of MegOP

since Very Dumb Discourse™ exists about whether or not certain versions of this ship are valid, this is going to be THE most positive post about all versions of MegOP. refer back to this post for reasons to ship your favorite version of MegOP if anyone gets weird about it with you. now let us begin!!

G1: goofy '80s faction dads fighting each other in a denny's parking lot every week LET'S GOOO, that shit is fun as fuck. orion pax also totally had a celeb crush on megatron before megatron ruined that and shot him and his pals 😔 and there's a lot of angst you can add with megatron becoming galvatron and optimus coming back to life to see how much he's changed!

BW: it's the sheer fucking comedy gold factor of a newly minted college graduate and a terrorist dinosaur IMMEDIATELY singling each other out on a prehistoric rock and deciding to call their daily gang slap-fights the BEAST WARS, what iconic drama queens LMAOOOO. also, megatron made his final body in BM look like optimal optimus SPECIFICALLY to fuck with him, and that's just...incredible

UT: the fact that megatron CANONICALLY acted like a grieving widower over optimus after he died in armada is. amazing. never forget their absolutely insane obsession with each other that they can never EVER give up on played a direct part in unicron nearly ending the world <3

Bayverse: this is the one continuity of all fucking things that gave us the lore about megatron being prime's lord high protector. absolute galaxy brain writing from the tie-in comics. also these two would ABSOLUTELY have the messiest, nastiest, most brutal hate sex imaginable, and that's beautiful. <3

Animated: optimus being a rookie washout underdog and megatron being a super scary much older warlord is a really interesting and underrated fresh take on their dynamic! lots of fun to be had with exploring what their relationship would be like after megatron finally acknowledged him as his archnemesis, lol. also...age AND size difference ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Prime: do i even need to say anything, i'm pretty sure that one flashback still of orion and megatronus being friends is responsible for birthing a million shippers for this pairing alone LMAOOOO. the bitter ex-boyfriends energy was TRULY off the charts in this show, it's a damn shame megatron never appeared in RID15

Cyberverse: same bitter ex-boyfriends energy but this time with dates at maccadams. megatron also dies encouraging optimus to beat the unhinged alternate dimension megs AAHH THE ANGST

IDW1: they're both depressed gay war criminals in this one who CONSTANTLY live in each other's heads rent-free and that's amazing, lmfao. also, megatron becoming an autobot means this is one of the VERY FEW continuities where it's not nigh impossible to figure out a way to give these two a happy ending together in fanon

IDW2: space date space date SPACE DATE. they were falling together and everything. megatron also LITERALLY tells optimus to open himself to him...to give him the matrix...yeah megs my dude i'm sure that's the ONLY thing you wanted from optimus "opening" himself. toootally positive, lol

G1 Marvel: megatron was SUPER fucking pissed and weird as shit about the time optimus died over a video game. it counts

Dreamwave: their first fight had megatron urging optimus to join him AND they disappeared together in a space bridge explosion once which is like, a fanfic-esque setup for them to be alone. also i'm pretty sure this is the continuity where optimus accidentally gave megatron a lobotomy, so...uh...potential for angst is to be had

SG: mirror universe!! evil crazy villain optimus with noble goody-goody hero megatron has so much potential for absolute chaos. bonus if you also bring in the normal versions somehow through multiverse shenanigans <3

KP: the only way this version of prime can redeem himself from the creepy underage human girl bullshit is if he gets a good hard dicking from megatron. next

Prime Wars: huge "ex-husbands go on a road trip with their disgruntled daughter" energy here. megatron also LITERALLY says "oh optimus, if only you could see me now" <3

Earthspark: again...need i say why? they're pals and working together from the get-go, what's not to ship??

Skybound: optimus literally wears megatron's arm. truly beautiful <3

TF One: it's not out yet but give it time. the entire movie is going to be about orion and d-16 being madly in love and tragically breaking up, baby!!

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄: Hate Sex w/ Ex!Fratboy!Bucky Barnes (ft. sorority sister!reader

a/n: i cannot begin to tell you how fucking aware i am that this is late and i'm almost falling behind but ohmygoodness i've been literally exhausted for the past two days. i'm lowkey pissed about it because i was super excited to write for this day and actually writing for it felt like i was dragging my feet behind me.

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

Fuck James Buchanan Barnes.

He’s a piece of shit, an asshole, a womanizer, a player, a liar and a dirty fucking cheat, but goddamn it, why do you always find yourself here? 

You hated him – no – you do hate him! 

Even people that hate their exes like the fact that they catch their eye, that they can’t find it within themselves to look away from them, that in some way, some capacity, they will always want them, that they will always be theirs regardless of whoever they get with in the future. 

Bucky knew you’d come to the party at his frat, and you knew that you would go with every intention of fucking with him. To everyone else, you were just bitter exes - that needed to fuck out whatever was going on between the two of you - so when you showed up in a dress that fell just below your ass, your friends figured you were just trying to get laid; but no one knew that this was his favorite color on you, let alone his favorite dress.

You just so happened to pick it out, that’s all! Couldn’t a girl want to pamper herself nowadays?

You fake laughed at whatever the dude that had fallen right into your trap said, a manicured hand lifting up to slap him on his arm gently, making extra sure to graze the naked skin of his arm that was exposed by his muscle tee with your acrylics. You fluttered your eyelashes at him innocently, a faux sweet smile on your face. 

Subconsciously, you knew that you wanted Bucky to take you home, or to his room, or to wherever the fuck he wanted too – but you’d never admit that to yourself. You couldn’t. He couldn’t win this game of cat and mouse, not without a fight, and you just so happened to love playing dirty.

You could feel Bucky’s stare burning into your back. Your bodycon dress was completely strapless, leaving little to nothing to the imagination as your breasts threatened to spill out over the top. You weren’t a sorority slut by any means, one of your sister’s had that covered, but still, you were going to go home with somebody tonight.

Even if he was an idiot.

“That’s so funny, Aaron.” Aaron laughed nervously, cheeks blooming a deep red as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s uh- actually Eric.” Right. “Sorry.” You giggled, raising the neck of your beer as if it was some sort of explanation for the fact that you don’t really give a shit about what his name is and more about what’s in his pants.

Before you could speak, your eyes raised up to meet Bucky’s, who was standing across the pull, two ladies vying for his attention as he puffed on what looked like a blunt. It looked like he was in the same boat that you were; that he didn’t care about what they were saying, only you.

Biting your lip, you turned your gaze back to Aaron – Eric. 

You knew you’d have to up the ante in order to get him to move, because right now you know he thinks that you’re all bark no bite. You’ll show him.

“You know…” You made a finger walking motion up his arm, the tips of your nails now slightly digging into his skin. “How about we get out of here?” You fluttered your eyelashes up at him. “It’s too crowded… and loud.” Your hand finally rested on his upper bicep, giving it a soft squeeze. The poor man’s jaw was slightly dropped, as if he was a fish out of water. 

“Yeah, yeah, I-” He attempted to say, but when you raised your gaze again, Bucky was gone, and you had forced yourself to bite back a wolfish smile because you knew he was on the move somewhere.

“What’s goin’ on over here?” Bucky’s voice sounded as he approached the both of you from behind. Eric looked as if he had seen a ghost, but the poor boy had no idea that he was just a pawn in your game. 

“Oh- uh- nothin’ man, just talking.” You raised a brow at Eric’s shaky excuse. Internally, you rolled your eyes. What a pussy. 

“Really?” Bucky asked in amusement, not even bothering to hide the face splitting smirk that contorted his face. “Yep.” You responded, popping the ‘p’ as you took the blunt from him. You wrapped your mouth around it, your gaze almost challenging him as you sucked, pulling the smoke into your lungs. It burned but it was worth it to see the tick in his jaw and the slight twitch in his eye at the sight of your pursed lips.

“I think that I um- I’m just gonna go.” Eric squeaked awkwardly. All lustful intention slipped away from him as he grasped his hand and shook it. From the poor man’s wince you can tell that Bucky put a little bit too much force in his shake.

When the random guy slipped away you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Real smooth.” You commented. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” 

“I’m talking about you trying to act like you weren’t trying to fuck me right in front of him.” The way you said it was as if it was the most casual thing on earth. “I almost forgot how possessive you get when you know someone else wants me.” You tilted your chin up to finally face him, and you caught yourself from almost stumbling over your words at the primal look on his face. 

You did it. You won this game fair - enough - and square.

“Too bad my pussy doesn’t belong to you anymore, isn’t it, James?”

“Shut the fuck up.” He growled, taking an intimidating step towards you. But you weren’t scared, if anything you were turned on. 

“Don’t get mad at me because I’m right, even though anger does look good on you.” 

You went to step away, but he was quick to snatch your wrist, “Were not done talkin’.” You made a noncommittal attempt to tug yourself free. “I am.” 

The tension between the two of you sizzled like oil on a pan, beckoning, calling for someone to do something, anything, to appease the burning desire that was coiling in Bucky and yours’ guts.

“If you’re not done then I guess we should find somewhere quiet to talk then.” 

He didn’t give you the chance to offer a rebuttal because he was already dragging you away from the prying eyes of party goers, his frat brothers and your sorority sisters. You already had an idea of where he was taking you, pushing the both of you through the sea of people that flooded the house, most of them drunk or high or a hammered off of a little bit of everything that was rotating throughout the home.

When he’d found his room, he was grateful that no one had decided to fuck in it, because that was what he was supposed to be doing.

He let your body be the thing that slammed the door shut with a loud bang!

He kissed you harshly, his left hand grasped your chin while the other hiked a full leg over his hip, grinding his erection onto your needy core.

“Fuck!” You gasped, your back arching off the wood as you broke the kiss. The friction of his jeans against your pulsing clit sent you staggering for balance, your inhibitions clouding your mind when you allowed your self-control to completely flee from within you.

“Bucky baby.” You whined. The man practically preened at the sound of his old nickname, his humping turning harder and calculated. He clearly had an end goal in mind. 

“What were you sayin’ about this pussy not bein’ mine no more?” He quipped. “I still mean it.” You gasped. He growled, but nonetheless, that didn’t deter him from shoving his face in the corner of your neck and biting down on the skin. Hard.

You yelped at the pain, but it shot down straight to your stimulated core. The bite only drew you closer to your embarrassingly fast approaching orgasm. It had been so long since you’d been touched by him, and God, you missed his hands, his voice, his touch, his smell, his cock.

“‘M close, Buck, ‘m so close.” You murmured, waving your fingers through his brunette hair and tugging on the strands. You felt a burning bitterness well-up in your gut when the tips of your fingers brushed against the hard plastic of the silver crown on top of his head. You sneakily took it off before throwing it somewhere in his room.

“No need to be jealous, honey.” He teased with a smirk on his face. “Shut— shut up!” Your rebuttal only came out as a whine. You could feel the cloth of your laced thong stick to your wet labia with every grind on his jeans – which also now sported a dark spot on his pants.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You swore as you came. “There you go. That’s it, good girl.” Small whimpers slipped out of you as he worked you into overstimulation. 

“God,” He groaned. “I’ve gotta fuck you.”

Guiding his face up to yours, you brushed your lips together, holding your intense eye contact with one another. “Then fuck me, Buck. I think you have a point to prove.” He leaned forward just a bit to nip at your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth. 

“Fuckin’ naughty.” Bucky grunted, forcing your leg down from his hip for a moment to snatch your panties down your legs. Your hands shot out to his belt buckle, slipping the leather out of it and unbuttoning his jeans. It was your turn to shove his pants down and grab his hard on, his hot cock pulsing in your hand.

The air in the back of his throat caught at the feeling of your stroking, “God– turn around.” You did as he said and felt his large, calloused hands pushing up your dress.

“Gonna make sure everyone at this fuckin’ party knows you’re mine.” He says lowly, pulling down his underwear to his mid-thigh and prodding his tip at your entrance. “Even if you fuckin’ hate me.” With that, he entered you, splitting you in half on his cock.

You cried out at the feeling, false nails scratching at the surface of his door in an attempt to keep yourself steady. “Feels so good, Buck. So, so, good.” You mewled, your hips pushing out on their own accord to try and take your own pleasure. “Always so fuckin’ greedy.” He chided. His hands grabbed at the fat of your ass, pulling out of you only to slam back in, sending you up the wall.

Your bodies moved in a familiar symphony that had been sung numerous times before, as they hadn’t forgotten one another, they were just simply waiting for the both of you to press play.

His dick repeatedly prodded at your g-spot, the friction sending you into overdrive as you moaned, and cried and begged. “God, I think ‘m gonna cum, Buck!” You exclaimed, walls repeatedly clenching down on him. “That’s right, doll. ‘Fuckin squeeze me.” He bellowed, his own thrusts growing sloppy as he neared his end.

Your noises raised in pitch before your arms gave out and you collapsed forward, instead opting to cross your arms and rest your head on your forearms.

“Gonna cum in this sweet pussy, sweetheart.” He said through gritted teeth, his thrusting growing sloppy and uncoordinated.

“Do it, fuck, I-” Your words died out, your body wracking with shivers as your second orgasm of the night overtook you. 

It wasn’t long before you felt his seed warm your insides, painting your womb white as your eyesight went white, and your pussy sucked him up for all he’s worth.

Your chests heaved.

“I still hate you.” You huffed.

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less.” He said through a smile.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @zippertwat @hallecarey1 @zippertwat @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl

[newtkive]

pixels [ newt x reader - modern text au ]

ch. 2 - drama queen core

summary: minho's drama finally catches up with him, but newt becomes a hero.

warnings: strong language, mutual pining, none really.

➥ m.list

__

THE GLADE

[ 12:08 PM ]

y/n: gm pookies

newt: it’s the afternoon.

y/n: yeah well

ur east coast

newt: so are you y/n

y/n: FINE BAD MORNING THEN ARE U HAPPY?

minho: drama queen is awake

newt: you’re the drama queen min let’s be fr

minho: u want me to die be honest

newt: see .

tommy: hey guys :3 been waiting for you all

y/n: awwww tommy <3 gm

tommy: morning sweetums

minho: ew stop

newt: how did you sleep?

tommy: good! used my new heated pillow

newt: not you

minho: not you

tommy: wtf

WHO THEN?? THERES LIKE 7 OTHER PPL IN HERE

minho: he means y/n

and there’s 4 other people not including newt and y/n dumbass

y/n: oh

why just me????

newt: cuz you stayed up til 6 am

y/n: ..

how do you know that

newt: i saw you were active on discord

gally: doesn’t that mean you were awake too then

newt: ok and?

minho: thats crazy newt

newt: no it isn’t

i just casually saw it

y/n: hehe

im ok i need to sleep more. sims 4 was really consuming me

why were you awake??

newt: up for work

minho: you get on discord before work?

chronically online..

newt: can you choke and pass out and hit your head please

minho: THE WAY U WANT ME DEAD IS INSANE

y/n: he’s gotta check on his discord hoes before hitting the grind

newt: there are no discord hoes

unless you count thomas

and i don’t

tommy: well why not

newt: because you disgust me

tommy: love u too :3<3

minho: y’all about to kiss aren’t you

newt: never say that shit again im outside your door with a b*mb

minho: why censor it

just blow me up it’s my grandmas house anyway. u want to jump her that bad????

gally: blow that bitch up i say

y/n: HELLO???!,!!

gally: minho not grandma

she loves me cuz im so tall

minho: tall people always gotta remind you they’re tall 😒

like we get it bigfoot

gally: shut up tinkerbell

y/n: you’re somewhat tall minho

minho: any man under 6’0 is considered short

y/n: yeah but newt is 6 ft trapped in a 5’10 body so not totally true

newt: what does that even mean

minho: give me a break

i can tell you exactly what that means

she wanna hit

newt: stop

tommy: don’t get his hopes up

newt: dude

stfu

y/n: what newt said

gally: can we appreciate the only one actually over 6 ft here

minho: no.

tommy: im the same height as newt!!!!

y/n: yea but ur like 3 ft trapped in a 5’10 body tommy not the same

tommy: oh ..

minho: kind of real

newt: can someone kick gally i’m tired of seeing his fucking name on my phone

gally: then turn your phone off don’t you have old ladies to tend to at the library

newt: yeah and they all love me

y/n: so real

if i was old i’d go in there and imagine you’re my young boyfriend and cling to everything u say

tommy: true im the old ladies

y/n: LMAO

minho: write a fanfic y/n why don’t you

newt: yeah you both are old and not beating the dementia allegations

y/n: IM THE YOUNGEST HERE

ur just mad you’re old as dirt

tommy: youth has left you newt and it has turn you bitter in your old age.

minho: thomas knows big words who knew

newt: which word in that sentence was big??

y/n: shut up minho

minho: wtf did i do

y/n: idk but i imagine you sitting there typing on your little phone and i got pissed

minho: WHAT???!.‘wKWHFO

newt: LMAOOOOOOOOOOO

yeah chubby little fingers hitting the wrong letters on his iphone 8

minho: im leaving

tommy: dont leave i forgive you for what you said

minho: i don’t give a damn

y’all mad y’all are all fake im the realest i’ve been prophesizing and reading scriptures 7000 years before y’all fake asses were born be so for real right now

y/n: not reading that

congrats

or sorry for what happened idk

about to drink my coffee in a wine glass

tommy: just drink wine

newt: it’s noon tommy??

tommy: ok and?

newt: explains a lot

minho: no coffee for me this new year only water and pussy juice fr fr

[ newt removed minho from the group ]

tommy: woah

y/n: woah..

newt: i can’t take it anymore

alby: How did you get that access..?

newt: don’t worry about it

in times of need i have to step in like that

y/n: hi alby!

alby: Hey y/n!

tommy: you’re such a hero newt

gally: that was deserved

who wants to play minecraft rn

y/n: me!!

alby: I’ll play, I’m off work today.

y/n: let’s go to the desert i want a camel

gally: alright but then the caves after i wanna mine

newt: if you mine with her you gotta bring extra food and storage when she dies so you can pick up the fallen items

gally: i forget you’re her designated babysitter

y/n: oh please no he isn’t

and i’ll bring my own food

newt: you always say that and then leave it in the stove oven

y/n: WELL I WONT THIS TIME

newt: sure ok

i’ll get on after work

[ alby added minho to the group ]

minho: when i get you.

newt: why did you add him back alby

alby: He was harassing me.

newt: be a man and take it

gally: im leaving

[ gally left the group ]

minho: im going to throw up and die

newt: im staying out of this

minho: (guy who caused it) im staying out of this

y/n: why does gally alwyas leave 😔

newt: why question a gift from the heavens

tommy: get online y/n gally is attacking my dirt house w a pickaxe :((((

y/n: NO IM COMING

minho: im coming to your work newt

newt: okay im locking the door early then

minho: i’ll smash through the glass idc

newt: i’m leaving my shift is over at 1 today.

minho: i’ll use life360 on you

newt: i deleted that app

minho: i’ll stand in the middle of the street

newt: ok let me position my car in front of you

just come to my apartment and we can play w them on pc and xbox

minho: …. fine but i hate your guts

newt: fine

y/n: HURRY GALLY IS ATTACKING MY SHED NOOOOWWW

newt: i’ll just rebuild it

minho: i’ll set it on fire just wait

[munchymuchy]

Don’t rib the kish

..Gggrrrruuoowww..

Here you are in a tiny bathroom stall sitting on the toilet but you weren’t using the bathroom you were gonna be used as a bathroom. Your front view was filled with the most famous ass in wrestling and that was rikishi. His ass blocked your whole view of everything, his stomach gurgling like a volcano made the situation scarier. The only thing you were hoping in that moment that he didn’t pull his thong down, thankfully he still had it on and between those fat cheeks of his.

He looks back at you with a smug look on his face. Seeing that you’re looking very nervous but also curios on what’s gonna happen. “Don’t worry little dude this gonna be breeze…just remember this is what happens if ya hide food that’s mine hgnn”. Yep, This whole situation your in came from you hiding his food from him as a rib. You started to open your mouth to yell weight but a gust of wind filled it instead.

Frrt!?

Broootttt!

FrrrbbbBbTtRtRt!!?

Brorott!

It sounded like his farts weren’t gonna stop and the sounded of you coughing really made him giggle. This was basically him doing his pre-match ritual to you as a “get back” to your rib, “man his farts are rank, what’d this dude eat” you thought to yourself as you covered your nose and turned your face. However his gargantuan ass was a mere inch from your face making it harder to get away from the blast zone.

“Whew..that feels good been holding these in for a while. Had a pretty big bean salad before you wanted to go and try and rib me. Gonna have plenty of fuel for a while” Rikishi said wiggle his ass side to side making small poots come out more.

“Fuck cough cough.. i won’t hide your food, I won’t rib you anymore Jesus” He continued to wiggle his booty and turned his head to look at you. “Uh uh uuh, face your punishment. No point in trying to get away from this ass”

BBbbrrbrbtbrbrtbtbtbtbtb??!

Sprtrtrbrtrbrbtbrtttt?!!

These farts he was releasing now sounded wet, veerrrryyy wet. It even took rikishi by surprise by their squelchy sound and the rotten smell. Kishi started to do a fanning motion near his butt and playful tease you. “Damn that stinks, smells like straight shit.” He could tell it look like you were gonna pass out so before you could do that he pushed his butt right into your face. This caused you to snap in a more alert state when your nose was attacked by old fart smell along with man musk.

“Hang in there bud, imma let you go in one second” with that being said he started to move his hips side to side for good ol stinkface. Your nose was deep in his clothed crack and your mouth was half way open to get a somewhat taste of his ass. It tasted salty almost like a cracker but also bitter like kale or something. It felt like forever until he got off, your head practically popped out of his ass in a cartoonish manner.

Rikishi grabbed your face to face him. You felt so tired and your whole body smelled awful inside and out. “God dayum you smell just like ass! But hey at least you know not to rib me anymore right?” He said squeezing your face tighter making you nod in agreement. “Good~….now get outta here all this farting made my bowels full unless you wanna stay for that too?” He said with a voice filled with anticipation. You quickly get up and rush out, you really didn’t wanna stay in there while he pooped since you already know what his farts smelt like. Fresh air was the only thing on your mind…..but you could feel yourselves wanting more after getting out…more of that chunky ass.

[willowser-but-nsfw]

literally COULD NOT stop thinking about this. all day. i blame @violentoxidation. afkljalijlajf

katsuki comes back first, just as the atrium roars with applause.

it's a good enough distraction to return to, the sharp sound of hands echoing in his eardrums, bringing him back to the here and now. there's enough sweat coating his hands to make him nervous and he's thankful for the dimmed lighting, at least, so that he can stick to the shadows as he wipes them on his slacks.

someone passes by with a drink tray and—he's fucking thirsty. always is, after stuff with you. doesn't matter how much goddamn water he drinks, it's all gathering at the small of his back and behind his knees and in the crease of his elbows. good thing you convinced him to bring the fucking jacket.

god, hopefully he doesn't stink.

katsuki isn't a fan of the bitter, sharp taste of alcohol, but at least it's something; downing a flute of champagne in one go probably is a mistake, but it's not his first bad decision of the night and with you around—as a little fucking minx—it's not bound to be his last.

he feels gross. he really, really does. call it post-nut clarity or whatever the fuck, but—he goddamn knows better than this. what a great headline that would make, catching him with his pants down at the fucking hero summit. adding lecher to the list of shit the media has against him already. public indecency charge at the least, not to mention the shit storm that would hit you, too.

he should have waited until you were both home; hell, in the car in the driveway, at the very least. thank fuck nobody walked in or saw you coming out of the same place, like horny teenagers in a public goddamn bathroom. gross.

—so why the fuck is his dick still throbbing in his pants?

it's infuriating, to realize he's just as much of a pervert as kaminari denki.

who, of course, is the first to notice his arrival back at the table, swinging his own glass precariously as he calls,

"yeah, kacchan!" the celebratory tone in his voice makes katsuki's stomach flip, and all his sweat runs cold. "let's get fucked up!"

katsuki's a terrible liar and he knows it, but he still tries to feign indifference, reaching for the cup that is most likely kirishima's. "ain't drinkin' that shit, i just want water."

"pfffft, lies!" denki spits all over the tablecloth. "i saw you down that champagne back there!"

"why the fuck are you watching me?"

"are you okay, man?" kirishima asks, frowning as he eyes katsuki up and down. "you're sweating."

"yeah, i—fucking do that, numb-skull." katsuki chews an ice cube between his teeth, trying to remember how his hair looked before he left the bathroom. fuck, did he even check?

denki laughs. "yeah, dude, that's his thing!"

katsuki's nose wrinkles, suddenly offended. "it's not my thing to just sweat, asshole. there's a lot that goes into this shit that you couldn't even comprehend—"

"dude, are you sure you're okay?" kirishima asks again, and then his eyes go wide, like he's figured something out. katsuki hopes not. "did something happen between you and—"

at the very mention of your name, katsuki's stomach tightens and bullets slide down his temple. he can't even think about you right now, because it only reminds him of how much of a scandal this could have been, how badly he wants to take a shower after having his ass out in that bathroom. probably needs to torch these pants.

he can't even think about you right now because—he's never gonna get the image of your face in the mirror out of his head, the way your dress looked bunched up at your hips. how smudged your lipstick got and the imprint it left on his thigh. how fucking wet you were over this perverted shit and how much he liked it—

"dude?"

katsuki snaps, slamming his hand on the table hard enough that the glasses shake. his voice is too breathy when it comes out. "don't fucking worry about us!"

"about who?"

all of katsuki's blood sings—violently—when you run a hand across his back, leaning into his arm as you shuffle to get into your seat. he can tell you've reapplied your perfume because his mouth waters immediately, like he's going to be fucking sick, though the tension in his balls says otherwise.

kirishima eyes you warily, jumping back and forth between the two of you. "everything okay?"

"with us? oh, yeah," you lean into the table, trying to catch katsuki's attention though he keeps it zeroed in on a wrinkle in the tablecloth. "we're great, right?"

from his peripheral vision, he can see the swell of your cheeks from your smile. it matches the even, light tone of your voice, painting you as the picture of fucking innocence even though you were just in the public fucking bathroom asking to get railed.

"please," you said, with your big, pretty eyes, which gleamed in the hall light. and you don't ever ask, because you don't fucking have to, but you asked then and—how the fuck was he supposed to say no?

katsuki finally glances at you and—he needs another cup of fucking water. you look goddamn perfect, perfect, like nothing ever happened, except that there's this little glow surrounding you. some bullshit aura of happiness because you got what you damn wanted.

you smile at him, bright and coy, as he looks at you, and when you pull your lip between your teeth, katsuki nearly sinks his teeth into his fist. underneath the table, his body directly disobeys him.

"yeah," he rasps, eyes returning to his empty cup as your hand rests near his knee. "we're peachy."

wasn't his first bad decision of the night, and it's not bound to be his last.

[kelcemenow]

As The Snow Falls - Chapter 7.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 1661

Warnings Strong language and a whole lot of fluff.

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

With Travis stood behind you and his arms wrapped around your waist, he gently placed a kiss on the side of your neck. You giggled and reached for the door handle. Travis was ready and dressed for skiing but you still needed to go to your room to change your clothes and Travis was only too pleased to accompany you there.

Turning the door handle you placed your finger against your lips. "Shhh!" You warned him as you knew the rest of the group would still be asleep.

Travis grinned and held you tight before you both headed towards your bedroom door. Your feet became tangled with his as you tried to walk in tandem and as you stifled a loud laugh by clamping your hand over your mouth, someone appeared briskly from around the corner.

"Jasmine!" You exclaimed, a little louder than anticipated.

Travis quickly stepped away from you and you noticed Jasmine's eyes narrow profusely. You cleared your throat and awkwardly smoothed out your pyjamas.

"What's this?" Jasmine said with an uncomfortable breathy laugh.

Travis scratched the back of his neck, "Uhhhh...we were just joking around."

"Joking around? Looks like some pretty serious flirting going on?" Jasmine folded her arms, "Is there something going on that I don't know about?"

You glanced to Travis quickly, "Jas-"

"Whatever, I don't care. I need coffee." She fluttered her eyelashes, "Travis, would you make some for me? Your coffee is so good!"

Travis exhaled and shrugged his shoulders, "Sure."

You rolled your eyes, "Yeah, I gotta go...and...get dressed."

Lowering your head, you marched straight to your room, your heart rising in your chest. As soon as you reached the door, you swung it open and rushed inside of the room, leaning your head against the cold wood once it was closed.

"Fuck." You whispered to yourself with a smile.

______________________________________________________________

The crisp snow crunched loudly underneath your boots as you retrieved your skis and poles from the shelter just outside of the cabin. You breathed in the cold breeze, feeling the sting of the bitter air as it filled your nostrils. As you clipped your boots into the skis, you felt a hand on your shoulder, making you jump slightly as you turned your head quickly.

"Shit, sorry!" Jason's face beamed back at you.

You clutched your chest and breathed a sigh of relief, "You scared the hell out of me, man!" You laughed.

"So? You and Travis, huh?"

You lowered your eyebrows, "What about me and Travis?"

Jason laughed, "Oh, come on! You think I'm blind?"

You turned back to reach for your poles, mostly to hide the growing smile on your face that you were failing to hide.

"I can see something a'brewing there, man!" Jason raised his eyebrows at you. "Come on, spill! And be mindful, the guy is still my brother. I don't want all of the disgusting details!"

You shifted yourself closer to him, lowering your voice, "Honestly, Jason...I don't know what's going on, but I can't stop smiling!"

An arm quickly swung around your shoulder as the 6 foot 3 inch Center pulled you in closer, "Me neither! My favourite girl and my little brother...getting it on."

You let out a throaty laugh, "Don't dude...Jasmine seems to think she's got dibs on him and she's already sniffing around us like a bloodhound. And I don't really want to deal with another Jasmine tantrum right now."

"Oh, hell nah!" Jason stepped in front of you, "We only have one day left here and I'll be dammed if I let something ruin the vibe."

You grinned and nodded your head, just as Travis appeared from behind Jason's shoulder.

"Ready to go?" His voice deep and thick with excitement.

Jason's eyebrows jumped up quickly before he turned to face his brother, "Enjoy, man." He said, slapping his palm against the side of Travis' bicep and disappearing back into the cabin.

Travis threw you a wink, your heart leaping at the sight. As he made his way closer to you, your chest tightened, the cool air filling your lungs. You shuffled your feet awkwardly, looking down at the skis that were restricting your movements until Travis was suddenly inches away from you. He raised his arm and reached behind you, his intoxicating scent almost hypnotising you. You took a deep breath, rooted to the spot and watched as the muscles in his neck pulsated as he grabbed his own skis. He glanced down at you and smiled a little.

"What?" You breathed a laugh as you spoke.

Travis' smile widened, "Nothing." He pressed his lips together, as if he had more to say.

"Go on?" You nodded.

He looked away, avoiding your gaze for a second, "You just look...beautiful."

Your cheeks quickly flushed and you looked down to your feet, the snow laying flat from where you had been standing. Your immediate reaction was the brush his compliment off, but you remembered what he had said earlier. He wasn't going to stop so you needed to get used to it. You raised your head to meet his gaze again, his icy stare somehow spreading a warmth across your chest. "Come on, I'll race you to the ski lift."

You darted away, sliding smoothly across the fresh snow, your eyes beginning to water from the cool air whipping past you. You confidently guided yourself towards the lift entrance, pulling your ski goggles down to shield your eyes from the bright morning sunshine. You glanced back quickly, noticing that Travis had barely made it away from the lodge. Bending your knees slightly, you increased your speed before angling the back of your skis quickly to the right, powder spraying onto the lift gates as you stopped dead. Pulling your goggles back onto the top of your head, you watched as Travis slowly but steadily made his way down the small hill towards you, his hands gripping onto the poles.

Your eyes widened as you noticed that he wasn't slowing down. You held an arm up and waved it from side to side in an attempt to get Travis' attention.

"Put your toes together, make a point with the front! Toes together, Travis!" You yelled out, your voice thick with panic.

Travis obeyed, a small mound of snow piling up in front of him, eventually bringing him to a halt next to you. You smiled as he pulled off one of his gloves and wiped his brow, taking a long breath before meeting your gaze.

"What? Okay, so it's been a while since I've skied." He said, shrugging his shoulders and putting his glove back on.

"I didn't say anything." You giggled as you pushed the gates to the ski lift open, "Not a thing."

Travis followed closely behind you, "You didn't have to. Your face said it all."

You exhaled another laugh, your warm breath visible in the cold air, "Come on, stop your pouting and get in." You patted the seat next to you.

"How come you're so good at this anyway?" Travis said as he struggled to manoeuvre himself around the cart.

"I worked a couple of seasons in France."

Travis raised his eyebrows, "Fuck! I didn't know I was with some sort of expert. I thought I was gonna impress you." The cart jerked as he quickly collapsed down next to you.

"Impress me?" You nudged him playfully, pulling the bar down across the pair of you just as the cart lifted slowly into the air.

Travis' eye's darted across his surroundings, "Well, yeah. I didn't think my sub-par skiing skills would be so rusty."

"I could show you some basics? Maybe, refresh your memory?"

"I like the sound of that." His arm slowly draped around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him, "Although, would it be totally unprofessional for me to make out with the teacher?"

You held his deep gaze, the world around you seeming to fade away, "Maybe you should try it and find out."

Travis' pale eyes sparkled and the corners of his mouth moved into a large grin before he lowered his head down towards yours, closing the already short distance between you. His soft lips connected with yours and moved slowly with a gentle pressure. Your skin tingled with a sudden pleasure that spread across your whole body as the kiss progressed. Travis brought his hand up to tenderly cup your cheek before sliding it to the back of your neck, his fingers softly stroking your hair. You carefully shifted closer to him, aware that any small movements would swing the cart, but Travis held onto you tightly. Your tongue danced against his and the warm, wet sensation caused your chest to flutter. As your lips parted further, you gasped for a quick breath before allowing Travis to explore your mouth again. The kiss was slow, romantic even, and as the cart swayed gently in the breeze, you melted completely into his arms.

You opened your eyes only slightly and a small ray of bright sunlight blinded your gaze. You pulled away from the kiss, looking to see that Travis' face was still plastered with a smile.

"I'm crazy about you." He whispered.

"Good." You quietly replied, "Because you've got detention with me later."

Travis' head jerked back, his eyebrows lowered with confusion, "What? Why?"

"That kiss." You smirked, "It was very unprofessional."

Travis grabbed your waist and dug his fingers into your flesh, causing you to let out a loud roar of laughter. The cart swung dramatically from your erratic movements and Travis quickly held onto you again, protecting you as you both screamed out with more amusement.

You took a deep breath and rested your head on Travis' shoulder, looking out onto the morning sunrise. The warm red and purple colours surrounded you both, your breathing slowing down to a contented pace. You sat in comfortable silence for a few seconds before Travis cleared his throat.

"Come to Kansas City tomorrow."

______________________________________________________________

This took some time...and I'm really sorry! I've had a crazy couple of weeks and writing took a bit of a backseat. But I hope you liked this chapter, the comments I have been receiving for this series have been amazing! I'll get to working on the next chapter right away and if you have sent in a request, do not worry, I will be making my way through this requests once this series is finished! If you want to be included in my Taglist, just let me know!

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[bipanicoverthegravessiblings]

Hey. Found you not so long ago but I’m already lovin it (pa ba ba pa baaaa I’m lovin it)

I was thinking about one plot for a long time. It’s TCOAAL request.

so the reader is male, kid from bad family. Well his only family was mother that abused him for quite awhile. Then, at the age of 15 he killed, dismembered and ate her before running away. (I took this idea from one concept metal album I’ve listened to recently).

Then he met graves siblings and they kinda became friends. it’s Ashley graves x male reader. again I like the stuff you do. Have a good day.☺️

Welcome to the blog dude, hope you enjoy your stay!

And bonding over mutilating and eating your shit mother’s corpse, how romantic <3

TW: Descriptions of bludgeoned corpses and cannibalism

Ashley Graves x Male Reader

Life on the run is….interesting

Trips to the store to buy food is always an anxiety induced endeavor of if the cops or store clerk recognize you as the kid of that one couple who went missing

That poor, poor couple

Such upstanding people of the community, a shame what happened to them

….a shame

You remember the night clearly. The taste of their blood. How it clung to your clothes and skin.

You sat before your parents….or….what was left of them. Things were never meant to go this far. You just- you just wanted to defend yourself! That’s all!

You didn’t expect to not stop after the first swing…

You had run off of the adrenaline of it all, the pure catharsis it gave you to watch your father crumple under the barrel of your metal bat. The way your mother’s face smashed in as you hit her over and over and over again. All the built up hate. All the built up rage coming back in full force.

Though, that feeling was gone. In its place was the reality of your situation. You had killed your parents, their blood on your hands and murder weapon. You couldn’t go to jail, you were just a kid! Nor would anyone believe it was self defense…your folks had always been such “great people”. No one would believe they’d hit their kid.

You knew one thing though, you had to get rid of the bodies. You couldn’t bury them, no- a police dog would dig that up right away. They’d rot if you hid them in the house…

….which left only one option.

You don’t regret killing your parents

You kind of regret eating them, that’s only because you did it shittily

There’s really no good way to prepare a corpse- and there was a lot so you tried them all

Maybe they were just that bitter of people

Or you just couldn’t cook

It’s probably both

But, it’s been 7 years and no one’s found out

The case on your parents went cold

So did yours

So really the only thing making you anxious to leave the motel room was getting caught

You’d been here for a while, the trash starting to pile up

It’s hard to tell if the stench was the shitty motel, or you.

You were going to take it out when- you paused..

Your blood ran cold as you watched through the blinds. A hooded person, face obscured from your view, coming towards your room. You internally said your prayers until….they made their way up the stairs to the room above you.

You let out a long sigh of relief, placing your hand over your heart to make sure it was still beating. It was- at far too fast of a pace though. But it was still beating nonetheless. Though, once the adrenaline rush from that scare passed you by….you realized something.

There were only two people staying in the room above you.

Your anxiety has led to you to be rather…observant- noting the pair of dark haired people when they arrived. They always left the room together, and not once did anyone else show up. And you had seen them rush out earlier….but never come back.

Now, this suspicious looking hooded figure that definitely didn’t have a knife in their hand could easily just be a friend…..but it just didn’t sit right with you.

Your eyes widened, staring out the blinds again as your neighbors made their way to the stairs. If your heart was pounding any faster it would burst. For a moment, you asked yourself-

Are you really going to risk your life for two strangers?

And you didn’t even have time to answer, as you already opened your door before you processed the question.

You had come out of your hobbit hole of a room, scream warnings up the stairs before the pair entered their room- seemingly stopped to discuss something

They blinked down at you with their unamused pink and green eyes, and you felt yourself shrivel under their stare

Green eyes began speaking to you- wanting you to go away and that they’ll handle whoever is in their room but Pink eyes stopped him

She thanked you, asked for your name, and that they’d love to just run away…but their stuff was in their room and they didn’t have the money to responsibly replace it all

But there was three of you, and only one burglar

You just needed a weapon

It hurt to grab your old bat…the one you foolishly kept since that night, but….you did

And you followed them into their room

You kept your footsteps light as you entered the room, it smelled of old furniture and the air was stale- much like your room when you had first arrived.

You looked at your neighbors, Ashley and Andrew they had introduced themselves as. Ashley walking in so casually before she loudly announced to Andrew, “Oh golly gee Andrew! What a great dinner. Let us grad our stuff post-haste and burn off those calories with a walk in the park!”

You and Andrew shared a look of confusion, to which Ashley grimaced at and continued on.

“I will be but a minute! Be ready…” her cherry blossom eyes stared daggers into your own, clearly referring to you.

You gulped, nodding as you readied your bat. Ashley guided you to where to stand, just to the side of the closet where you wouldn’t be obscured. She gave you a final glare as she moved to the other to safely open the door. Your hands shook as the grip tightened on your bat, nodding to let her know you were ready.

It was all a blur, the hooded figure bursting out with their knife in a stabbing motion. Before he could even process what was happening, you brought your bat down to the back of his head hard. He collapsed to the ground, not down- but that same rush from that night came back to you….and the next thing you knew they were mush on the floor.

Ashley and Andrew stared in bewilderment as you fell to your knees, bloodied bat slipping from your hands and you caught your breath. You were a monster. You knew it, and now they knew it.

But that didn’t seem to matter, as you felt a hand gently tilt your chin up to look up. Your fearful eyes staring into Ashley’s surprisingly calming gaze as she spoke,

“What did you say your name was again?…”

[basu-shokikita]

My headcanons about early Dethklok forming

Nathan, despite having a relatively normal upbringing, rejected ordinariness and uniformity. He didn't want to be like everyone else, he didn't want to be like his parents, even though he loved them very much. He wanted to stand out, to do something with all the brutality he had inside. Not a fucking job or an ordinary girlfriend to have children with, he'd die before being part of that. It was around this frustrating time of his life that he discovered metal and something changed inside him. He had finally found his true calling. He would form the greatest band in the world.

He started going to a bunch shows, to scout for musicians. His priority was the guitar because the chemistry between the singer and guitarist was quintessential to the band. If he didn't have a good guitarist, then he had nothing. Nathan was at some mediocre band's show when he got blindsided by Skwisgaar's talent. Right as the show ended, he went backstage and told Skwisgaar he wanted to him in his band, completely ignoring the outraged reactions of the rest of the band. Skwisgaar asked if he had other people in this so-called band and Nathan said no. Utterly fascinated by Nathan's determination, Skwisgaar decided to take a gamble. He dropped his current band then and there to follow the man.

After abandoning Snakes n' Barrels, Pickles (like his note indicated) wanted heavier music. So, rather than being hunted by Nathan, Pickles was the one searching for bands to join. But not famous bands, not already established bands, he had already been there. This time, he wanted to join a band from the scratch. A band that was only starting and he could grow with in real time. While going from city to city to find raw, new talent, he saw an ad on the streets and thought Dethklok sounded promising. He was very amused when he walked into some shitty garage and saw Nathan and Skwisgaar standing there like some lost teenagers. When he listened to them play together, though, he knew it. This band was going to make it and he wanted to be there for it.

Now that Dethklok had a guitarist and a drummer, they needed a bassist. Skwisgaar said they could get anyone because you can't hear bass anyway but Nathan disagreed, he wanted to find the perfect bassist for his band. The night before opening auditions, they went to a bar and saw some guy getting into a fight with some pretty tough dudes. At first, they were in awe of this guy's brutality but as the confrontation kept going, they realized he was actually a fucking coward. They were excited to see him get his ass kicked until, when the guy kept shit-talking even though he was about to get destroyed, Nathan realized. Dethklok needed a pathetic and obnoxious quota to achieve ultimate brutality. Not only did they save Murderface but they also got him to join the band before even listening to him play.

Magnus appeared last and introduced himself as this hotshot that knew everything about the industry. They were young and naive and allowed himself to be lead by this so-called pro, though Nathan was always skeptical of Magnus sweet talking. At first, it was nice: he introduced them to people, he knew how to party hard and presented himself as some kind of role model for them, encouraging them to look up to him. As time went by, however, it became increasingly evident that Magnus had never really made it big and was bitter that his time was running out. He grew bossier and meaner because they weren't growing as fast as he expected. By the time Nathan kicks him out of the band, he had already been considering the option and Magnus' outburst just helped him do the final call. Nobody opposed.

Bonus: Charles was one of the people Magnus introduced Dethklok to. However, he saw their true potential unlike Magnus and stayed after he left. If anything, he was glad to be able to manage the band without as many obstructions now (Magnus was pretty difficult to deal with).

[baflegacy]

ripping through the softest skin

“I had five plus years of thinking we would never be friends again, Angela. You just learn how to live with it.”

(drabble)

—

He finds her by the balcony.

“Angela—“

“—No, Ian. I don’t need it right now.” She takes a long swig, wincing at the burn of alcohol. “Let me just sit outside. In peace.”

Despite the hard set to Angela’s jaw, Ian takes a seat beside her anyways. “You know I can’t leave my kid alone like this.”

She lets out a bitter chuckle. “We both know we don’t really do that ‘kid/dad’ thing, dude. That’s you and Arasha’s thing.”

“Still,” He sighs. “Of course you’re fucking capable, you’re an adult—but I don’t just want to leave you out—“

“How do you fucking do it, man?” Angela glances at him before staring at the skyline again. “I feel so, so—stupid. Thinking that—“

“—You had a chance?” Ian finishes for her, smirk softening when he sees her grimace. “I had five plus years of thinking we would never be friends again, Angela. You just learn how to live with it.”

“You still believed that even when he came back?” She asked, not unkindly. The question still makes him frown, though.

“Had to, anyways. If nothing happened before, then why would…” He trailed off, before shaking his head. “Just—don’t beat yourself up over it, okay? You thought there was something between you two and then suddenly there wasn’t, nobody would think you’re the bad guy for catching feelings along the way.”

“Easier said than done, Ian.” Her voice turns wobbly at the end. “I just thought—“

Angela’s voice catches on a sob, and Ian wraps an arm around her and pulls her close, letting her cry.

“I thought we were on the same page,” She confesses, her voice sounding impossibly small. “Because—because I’d just get these looks and she’s one of the few that just gets me and I thought it was the same for her,” Her breath rattles as she exhales. “I—I know she’s my best friend, I know we’re best friends, but I thought we could’ve been more than that. That we were on our way to being more than that.”

Angela wipes her tears with her sleeve. “I thought she’d be my person and I’d be hers but—clearly that’s not fucking happening,” Another bitter chuckle. “God, I must’ve looked like an idiot—thinking that I ever had a chance. Of course I fucking don’t.”

Ian sees all this; The tears that are drying on Angela’s cheeks, the slight tremor in her voice, the pinched look on her face. He sees all this and pulls her closer.

“I don’t—I can’t—“ He starts, voice thick. “Look, you and I know that this shit can’t be fixed in a month, but what I can tell you is that it gets easier.”

“What, seeing them?”

“Living with it.” Ian smiles ruefully. “To tell you the truth—it never really stops hurting. Sometimes it—sometimes something comes up whenever I even see him and I just—“ He closes his eyes and exhales, tries to keep his voice monotone. “It never really goes away, is what I’m saying. Not in the way you want it to.”

Angela says nothing, but pats the hand that’s wrapped around her. Ian thinks it’s a start.

(Somewhere, inside, Anthony wraps an arm around Amanda’s waist as she kisses him on the cheek. He scrunches his face, looks at her, and laughs.

And Anthony thinks that maybe, maybe this is what love is like.)