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wonryllis · 7 months

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daddy issues, my little girl (m) | park jongseong.

﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ぃ ────𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗺𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹,

preview. you had always had daddy issues, for as long as you could remember. so when jay came along with his caring nature, how could you possibly keep your feelings at bay? not to forget, your roses of love have wilted long before you even knew what love meant but jay, he’s here at your doorstep with a watering can. will you be able to refuse?

or where, new neighbor dr jay park is asked to babysit you over the week. ironically the only man you have ever had a crush on. you are so determined to put aside the feelings but jay makes things so much harder. he is way too sweet and caring and you are way too pessimistic and insecure. how is it going to work with you gravitating towards him in inadvertence and jay welcoming your presence with candor radiance? especially with all of your buried issues coming to life more than ever. false hopes and reserved secrets, reluctant truths and feelings that linger deep. he is right there, two doors away to reach. so why is it that love still feels so far?

meet the cast. daddy park jongseong(jay) with his doll fem!reader

genre. neighbour to lovers, age gap (like 7 years), romance, SMUT MDNI!!, comfort angst, fluff, happy ending, doctor(might change that)!jay with his precious girl. jay literally always at his girl's beck and call, he cares about you a lottttt trope. the "i know you can do it, but let me do it for you" trope. kinda ddlg concept idk? he's like your pillar, comfort person and just everything you have ever needed. practically your dream man come to life. subject to additions later on.

word count. 18-19k so far, est around 35k revamp + second installment.

warnings. DARK THEMES: hints of: daddy issues, attachment anxiety, inferiority complex, abandonment issues, depression, childhood emotional neglect, philophobia, insomnia, social anxiety, hints at emotional/psychological abuse, gaslighting, hints at being suicidal, people pleaser syndrome, mommy issues, thantophobia, atelophobia, atychiphobia, pistanthrophobia, avoidant personality disorder, body dysmorphia. more could be added on release and nsfw warnings will be mentioned in full fic.

theme song. daddy issues by the neighborhood and future by red velvet. on the side you can listen to: love letter by bolbbalgan4, adore you by harry styles, pacify her by melanie martinez, cool kids by echosmith, your existence by wonstein, teenage dreams by katy perry ..

RELEASING. TBD, progress ! 57%

"i’m home!” slipping off your converse, you put the pair inside the shoe cabinet near the entrance and close the wooden door in a sigh before trudging in. the lights in the living room are dimmed, something your parents would never do. it catches you a tad bit off guard but nevertheless you try not to think too much. considering the silence surrounding you they most definitely are out for work and as usual forgot to turn off the lights. with cautious steps you walk futher inside, with all intention to sneak in a pack of chips from the kitchen like a thief even though at this point you’ve practically come to the conclusion you’re home alone, but one can never be too careful.

a cat like shriek leaves you when your eyes land on the back of a figure sitting on the couch, your phone almost slipping through the grasp of your fingers as your eyes widen in shock. startled, your heart more or less stopping in a screeching brake for a split second.

the man visibly flinches at the sound of your voice,“who are you?!-” standing up and turning around to face you,“jay?”

“god y/n, you’re gonna make me deaf,” he complains, face contorting into a tender, teasing expression; a small smile gracing his lips as he walks around the couch and leans against the top of the backrest. you watch as he looks at you, so softly that it makes you wonder, has anyone ever in your entire life looked at you like that? a look radiating such gentleness. maybe not, not until now that is.

“you got home early today, i thought you’d be out for two more hours?” his brows raise in a questioning manner as his gaze shifts to go over the time showing on your living room clock.

“uh, well i was working on a project the last few days but i finished it yesterday so,” you speak unsure if you should even be telling him this instead of asking what he’s doing in here.

“oh okay, that’s good,” taking off his overcoat he walks into the kitchen, folding up his dress shirt’s sleeves on the way,“what do you want for lunch then? do you want to eat takeout? or should i cook you something? you must be hungry,” he takes out a bottle of cold water from the fridge and pours in a glass for you, sliding the cup on the countertop towards you as you approach the space in hesitant and confused steps.

his questions dumbfound you, leaving your brain at a loss, still dazed from his presence before you,“what? why are you asking me that? and what are you doing in my house?” you ask, looking completely clueless when jay turns to look at you expecting it to be some kind of a sarcastic remark. but the lost look in your eyes has him surrendering even if it does turn out to be some joke.

“taking care of you,” jay smiles, straightening his posture in an upright position and moving closer to the counter across which you stand,“technically, babysitting,”

“babysitting? me? but,” it baffles you, is this some prank or are you supposed to know something you don’t? your mind’s mechanical gears slow down, friction arising in between them. you don’t remember anything regarding or relating to the term babysitting. there’s no way he’s serious.. right?

“doll, didn’t your parents tell you they’re gonna be out on a business trip for a week? they asked me to look after you while they’re gone,” what.

yes these past few days when you couldn’t catch a hidden, one-sided glimpse of him in the elevator you did feel weird. and you definitely did subconsciously wish to run across him again, even though you were on a mission to avoid him, but this; this is not what you would’ve liked, this is not what you wanted. this is far from what you can handle, what your messed up self can accept.

“no?” the look on your face has jay almost spilling a laugh, the way your features contort to a whiny crying expression. how cute. he thinks.

“that’s okay, now you know,” trying to imitate you, he scrushes up his nose in a slight pout, reaching out to pat your head twice. and there goes your heart. you never thought you’d like head pats this much, you only remember getting them twice from your father but it felt different. it used to annoy you because he would mess up your hair but the way jay caressed your head it felt you had accomplished something, so gentle and careful yet still close to a ruffle.

taglist ( open. ) @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @lheebra @boyfhee @defnotfertilizedtoesw @brownsugarbaybee @skylaly @sparklovespink @luvyouchuu @ming-h0e @cha0thicpisces @butterflywonie @kgneptun @haechansbbg @m3chigo @wonsbaer @woncine @eneiyri @siyen @wonyoungsvirus @heesquared @enhafim22 @velvtcherie @ineedsomezzz @simjyunnie @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @wonkifangirl @sweetwonieee @luvnicho @fakeuwus @sunpov @notevenheretbh1 @kaykay11sworld @saurxcream @shawnyle @monstaxdirtywonk @wannieepisod @woozixo @sophi-ee @rikiwaify-blog @fluerz @iselltulips @belowbun @yunjinsbbg @enhasnuggles @enhaswirlds @enhastolemyheart @jooniesbears-blog

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chaoticforever · 3 months

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Where The Path Led | Yandere Stephen Strange x Male! Reader

Summary: Who thought having sex with Doctor Strange would cause the man to become very obsessive and delusional?

Y/n stirred groggily, a throbbing headache pulsing in time with his heartbeat. He blinked his eyes open, squinting against the harsh morning light streaming through the window. The brightness only added to his discomfort, and he felt a wave of nausea wash over him. The room spun slightly, and he had to close his eyes again to steady himself.

After a few deep breaths, he cautiously opened his eyes again, this time letting them adjust to the bright light. As his vision cleared, he turned his head to the right, wincing at the sharp pain from his neck. That's when he noticed something that made his heart skip a beat or two.

This wasn't his room.

It took him a moment to register that he also was not alone. An arm was draped casually across his waist, belonging to someone still deeply asleep. Following the arm up, Y/n recognized the face — it was his colleague, Stephen Strange. The man looked peaceful sleeping, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The sight of Stephen lying next to him sent a rush of memories flooding back to Y/n.

The night before, Y/n had gone to a bar in the city, intent on drowning himself in alcohol. He had discovered yesterday that Marcus, his boyfriend of two years, had been cheating on him. The betrayal stung deeply, and he needed an escape. He wanted to forget, if only for one night.

And that's when Stephen had appeared. Noticing Y/n's somber mood, he joined him at the bar. The two men had shared drinks and danced together. Before they knew it, they ended up back at Stephen's place, and one thing had led to another.

Now, Y/n thought back to that moment with a sense of regret. He hadn't wanted to sleep with anyone; he had just wanted a night to forget his issues. Carefully, he eased himself out of Stephen's embrace, holding his breath and slipping out from under the covers. Spotting his clothes scattered on the floor, he began to dress quietly, wincing at the rustling fabric. He located his phone and keys in one of the pockets and quietly left Stephen's home.

Upon returning to his apartment, Y/n made a beeline for the bathroom. The cool water on his face felt amazing, but he knew he looked and felt like a mess. He vowed to himself that he wouldn't indulge in such heavy drinking again.

Going to the kitchen, Y/n began making this hangover remedy his dad had often made for him back in his early twenties. Y/n didn't think he would need it again, but it turns out that he did. As he mixed the ingredients, his phone rang and saw that Mercedes was calling. He answered.

"Hey, Mercedes."

"Hi, Y/n," Mercedes' cheerful voice came through. "So, what did you get up to last night? Drinking liquor at a bar, perhaps?"

Y/n blinked, because how did she just— "Uh, how'd you know that I went out to a bar last night? I didn’t tell you about that."

"I heard from Juan," his friend explained. "Said that he saw you at Charley's bar, getting wasted. He also mentioned that he saw you leave with someone — a tall male with black hair and a goatee. Did you hook up with somebody last night?"

Y/n sighed as he poured the remedy into a cup. "I did. I slept with my colleague, Stephen. It was a drunk hookup though, nothing more, and It won't happen again."

"And why won't it happen again?"

"To be honest, I don't like Stephen in that way," Y/n replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "And after finding out about Marcus, I don't feel like dating or hooking up with anyone for a while."

"I understand," Mercedes' voice was soft. "Take all the time you need to heal but don't let Marcus' actions hold you back. He doesn't deserve your time or energy."

Y/n smiled. Mercedes always knew the right thing to say to make him feel better.

"Thank you, Mercedes," Y/n said gently. "Listen, I'm going to hop in the shower, but we can talk later. Tell Sam I said hi."

"Will do! Talk to you later, n/n," Mercedes responded before the call disconnected.

Y/n placed his phone on the charger and headed for the shower, hoping the warm water would soothe his aching body and clear his mind after the chaotic night he experienced and a challenging morning.

XXXXX XXXXX

Monday morning arrived, and Y/n woke up feeling refreshed and surprisingly energetic, considering the events of the past few days. He had spent the rest of his weekend relaxing in the living room and briefly chatting with his dad on the phone. It felt like he had finally gotten a good night's rest, and the absence of a killer headache was a welcome bonus.

The male stretched his arms above his head and yawned, feeling the satisfying crack of his joints. He whistled softly to himself as he went through his morning routine, preparing for the long day ahead.

As he drove to the hospital, his thoughts drifted back to his night with Stephen. A flush crept up his neck, thinking back to their sexual encounter. Even though they worked in different areas of the hospital— Y/n as an immunologist and Stephen as a neurosurgeon — they still often saw one another. Y/n wondered if the man in question would bring up what happened between them. He hoped he'd agree to forget about the situation and move on.

When he entered the familiar halls of the hospital, Y/n greeted his colleagues with a smile and nodded to familiar faces. He made his way to the staff lounge for that much-needed cup of coffee because his appointments were back-to-back, and he knew the caffeine would be essential to getting through the day. The lounge was empty as he poured the liquid into a cup.

And then:

A familiar voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Good morning, Y/n," that was Stephen's voice. Stephen's arms wrapped around Y/n's body, planting a hand on his chest. Y/n's breath hitched as Stephen planted hot, wet kisses on the back of his neck. "You were really amazing last night, you know?" Stephen nipped at Y/n's earlobe. "We definitely got to recreate that, huh?"

Y/n’s breathing hitched. He couldn’t deny that Stephen’s lips felt amazing against his skin, but he really needed to talk to him to make sure they were on the same page. And seeing how this guy was sucking on the back of his neck, It's clear that they weren’t on the same page.

Y/n turned around in Stephen's embrace, stopping the kisses and taking one step back. "Stephen, we need to talk," he said.

The man in question, on the other hand, shook his head. "Later. I want to make love to you again. Right here, right now."

His hand reached forward, palming Y/n's erection with his fingers. This caused Y/n to take two steps back, needing to put a sizable distance between them. There was no way they could do anything here, especially in a hospital where they could be walked in on at any given moment.

Stephen looked annoyed as he took two steps forward, placing his hand on Y/n’s shoulder. "What is there to talk about?"

Y/n took a deep breath in, gathering his thoughts together. "Look, man, last night was — it was a mistake. A good mistake, but still a mistake. We were drunk, and—"

Stephen's eyes narrowed, and his grip on Y/n's shoulders tightened. "A mistake?" he repeated, his voice dangerously quiet. "Is that truly how you feel?"

Y/n's heart stilled as he saw a flash of something dark in the surgeon's eyes. It was only a fleeting moment, but it was enough to send a chill down his spine. Still, he needed to get these words out.

"Yes," Y/n said softly. "We should forget it. You know, pretend it never happened."

For a long moment, Stephen didn't voice anything, gray eyes fixed on Y/n’s face. Y/n honestly didn’t know what Stephen was going to say, but he just hoped that he didn’t blow up in his face or be upset with him. Then, slowly, he released Y/n’s shoulder and took a step back, grinning.

"Alright Y/n. If that's what you want, then we will pretend that it never happened."

The h/c-haired doctor nodded, internally sighing in relief that Stephen understood where Y/n was coming from "Thanks for being so understanding. We should both probably get to work right about now."

Stephen offered a small smile and opened the door for Y/n, who thanked him and left the lounge. Stephen headed to his office on the fourth floor, while Y/n headed to his office on the third floor.

Booting up his computer, the h/c haired doctor pulled up his patients' files and began reviewing them, preparing for the long appointments. His first patient was a young girl named Sarah, and he took a moment to familiarize himself with her medical history before her appointment.

Exactly at nine o'clock, there was a soft knock on the door. "Come in," Y/n called out. The door opened to reveal a brown-skinned muscular man and a young girl with brown hair and brown eyes peeking out from behind him. Y/n acknowledged the man's attractiveness but shook off the thought since it wasn't appropriate.

"Good morning, Mr. Flynn. Please, come in," Y/n said, offering them a warm smile and extending his hand for him to shake, "I'm Dr. L/n, but feel free to call me Y/n."

"Nice to meet you, sir," Jesse responded, shaking Y/n’s hand and stepping inside. the office, guiding his daughter forward. "This right here is my daughter, Sarah. She's a bit shy, so please bear with her."

"It's nice to meet you, Sarah," Y/n knelt down to the girl's eye level. "You can call me Y/n, too. No need for formalities." He patted on the examination table. "Take a seat here, and we can have a little chat?"

The young girl nodded silently and climbed up onto the examination table, her eyes darting around the room. Jesse took a seat in the empty chair next to his daughter as Y/n began the examination.

"Sarah, your dad explained to me on the phone last week that you've been having tummy aches lately. Can you talk to me about that?" Y/n's voice was friendly.

She twisted her hands in her lap. Then, in a small voice, she spoke, "My tummy hurts sometimes, and I don't know why."

Y/n nodded understandingly. "That must be scary. Can you tell me where it hurts? Does it hurt all the time or sometimes?"

Sarah pointed to her mid-region. "It hurts right here and it usually hurts after I eat."

"I see," Y/n murmured, making a note on her chart. "Okay, I'm going to take a look and see if I can figure out what might be causing you to have these tummy pains."

Sarah nodded, her hand reaching out for her father's hand, and Jesse held it.

Y/n proceeded to perform a gentle examination, taking care to explain each step to both Sarah and Jesse. He asked additional questions about Sarah’s diet, any recent changes in her routine, and any other symptoms she experienced.

When the exam was over, Y/n concluded that Sarah was likely experiencing some digestive issues, possibly due to a mild food intolerance. He suggested dietary changes for her and an over-the-counter prescription to help soothe her stomach.

"Thank you, Y/n," relief was present in Jesse’s voice. "We really appreciate your help. Sarah hasn't been well lately, and we wanted to make sure she was okay."

Y/n waved off the thanks. "It's my job. I'll send the prescription to your pharmacy, and you can pick it up tomorrow. Try the prescriptions for a couple of weeks, and if she shows no signs of improvements, we'll discuss further steps." He reached into his candy drawer and offered Sarah a lollipop. "And here's a lollipop for being the most amazing patient I've ever had!"

A smile appeared on Sarah’s face as she took the candy from him. "Thanks, Y/n!"

"You're welcome. It was nice meeting you and I hope that you feel better soon."

Jesse and Sarah exited the room, and Y/n began sending Sarah's prescription to her pharmacy. Just as he finished, there was another knock banging on his door.

"Come in," he called out, expecting one of the nurses or maybe his next patient.

To his surprise, it was Jesse who poked his head into the room. "Sorry to bother you, Y/n. I just realized I left my jacket here," he walked over to the chair where he was sitting and picked up the jacket.

"It's no problem at all," Y/n assured him.

Jesse slipped his arms into the sleeves of his jacket and turned toward the door. Just as he was about to exit, he paused and turned back, as if to say something.

"Listen," Jesse began. "I know this might be a bit forward, but I wanted to ask: do you have a special someone in your life?"

Y/n's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He hadn't expected this line of questioning, but he supposed it was not uncommon for patients' family members to become curious about their doctors' private lives. He wasn't sure about telling his patient's father that he likes dudes since he didn’t know his stance on same-sex couples, but something compelled him to tell him.

"Well," he chose his words thoughtfully. "to answer your question, no, there's no special someone in my life. There used to be a guy but he lost that title privilege."

Jesse nodded, taking a step closer to Y/n's desk. "Interesting. So, if I were to ask you to join me for dinner tomorrow, what are the chances that you would say yes?"

Y/n's heart skipped a beat, and he found himself momentarily at a loss for words. He had not expected this turn of events. Jesse was a handsome dude, no doubt, and seemed like a good guy. Y/n would be down for it, but the timing wasn't right.

"Oh, I'm flattered, Jesse. Truly," Y/n said sincerely, voraciously, "But to be honest, I just got out of a two-year relationship, and I'm not looking to date right now."

Jesse's face fell, but he gave a nod. "I get it. It's too bad I didn't meet you three years ago. Have a good rest of your day."

Jesse turned the doorknob and left Y/n's office. Y/n watched him go, intrigued by his forwardness. He wondered when the next time they'd see one another again.

And Y/n found his question answered by the time Valentine’s Day rolled around. However, not only did he find the answer to his question but he found a revelation as well, a scary discovery about Stephen.

As Y/n sat in his office, writing notes, he heard a knock on the door. He called out for the individual to come in, but instead received another knock. A bewildered expression crossed Y/n's face as he got up to open the door himself, only to find no one outside. However, he spotted a bouquet of roses and a box of expensive chocolates, each with a note attached.

The note attached to the roses said, "For my one true love, Y/n. I can't wait to see you again soon. -Stephen." The note on the chocolates read, "To sweeten your day, my love." There was a heart under it.

Confusion painted a portrait on his face. It seemed as though Stephen believed they were in a relationship, despite Y/n's clear indication that he wanted to forget about their one night together. Y/n knew he needed to set the record straight and speak to Stephen as soon as possible.

His opportunity came during lunchtime when he was sitting at one of the tables outside. Stephen approached and took a seat next to him without asking, greeting Y/n politely and inquiring about his day.

A forced smile appeared on Y/n's face. "It's going well, thank you. And yours?"

"Wonderful, now that I see you," Stephen replied, reaching over to take Y/n's hand in his own. "Did you get the flowers and chocolates I sent? I know you like roses."

Y/n nodded slowly. "Yes, I did, and—"

"Shh, Y/n," Stephen interrupted, pressing a finger to Y/n's lips and running it over his bottom lip. "No need to thank me. That's what good boyfriends do."

Y/n's eyes widened because what the—? Did he just hear that correctly? Stephen thought that they were— "B-Boyfriends?"

Stephen smiled and planted a kiss on Y/n's cheek, his fingers running over Y/n's knuckles. "Yes, boyfriends. You and I, of course. Where do you want me to take you for Valentine's Day dinner tonight? I know this amazing Italian restaurant—"

"Stop," he removed Stephen's hand from his and held up his own hand. "Look, I think you've got the wrong impression. We aren't boyfriends; we're not dating."

"And why is that?" Stephen questioned, scooting closer to Y/n in his chair. "We had sex, Y/n. That makes you mine now."

At that moment, Y/n realized that something was seriously wrong with Stephen. His insistence that they were dating, despite Y/n's clear rejection, was an obvious sign of delusion. Y/n knew he had to be firm and stand his ground.

Y/n shook his head. Why wasn't Stephen getting it? "I'm not yours. At all. We only had a night together. I am not interested in pursuing anything further. I don't want to be with you. Do you understand that?"

Stephen's jaw clenched, and for a split second, Y/n saw a dangerous flash in his gray eyes. Then, Stephen pushed the table away and stormed off, muttering something about Y/n being ungrateful.

Y/n let out a sigh, feeling drained by the conversation. He hoped Stephen would finally understand and leave him alone.

But Y/n really didn’t feel like working for the rest of the day, so he took the rest of the day off and asked his secretary to reschedule his remaining patients.

As he made his way to the parking lot, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He was half expecting it to be Stephen, but he was relieved to find Jesse standing there.

"Oh, wassup, Jesse. What are you doing here? Is everything alright with Sarah?"

"Yes, she's doing much better, thanks to you. The pills you recommended worked well," he responded. "I actually wanted to talk to you about something else."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh?"

"Well, it's Valentine's Day, and I know it's a bit last minute, but I was wondering if you'd like to join me for dinner tonight?"

Y/n was at a loss for words. Sure, he did find himself wanting to get to know this guy better. But he hesitated, unsure if it was a good idea since there are ethical implications of dating a patient's family member. He could get in a lot of trouble.

"I appreciate the offer, Jesse, but I don't know if it's appropriate," Y/n attempted to explain. "I mean, you're Sarah’s father, I'm her doctor. It’s a conflict of interest."

Jesse waved his hand dismissively. "Nonsense. It’s only a conflict of interest if we’re dating, which we’re not. We’ll just be two people enjoying a meal together. What do you say, doc? It could be fun."

Well, when Jesse puts it like that, Y/n guess that sort of makes sense. Since they’re technically not dating, it wouldn’t cross any ethical lines in a literal manner.

Besides, his friends had Valentine's Day plans, and he was the only odd one out. Y/n was planning on spending the day in his living room and ordering some pizza.

"Well, I do enjoy a good meal and good company," the h/c-haired male agreed to the dinner. "Where did you have in mind?"

"There's this restaurant downtown that recently opened," Jesse suggested. "It's called Lepley's and it has good reviews. I've been wanting to try it. Sound good?"

"It sounds perfect. Shall we meet there? Around seven?" Y/n gave a thumbs up.

"Seven it is," Jesse confirmed.

Jesse walked back to his car, and Y/n entered his own vehicle, still processing what just happened. Momentarily, Y/n wondered what the evening would bring.

Unbeknownst to Y/n, a certain man with a goatee had watched the interaction. Stephen's gaze followed Y/n as he drove from the hospital, a dark look in his eyes.

XXXXX XXXXX

Y/n arrived at the restaurant promptly at seven, his heart fluttering with a mixture of excitement and nerves. He had taken the time to dress nicely, opting for jeans and a dressy shirt. Casual yet stylish too.

As he entered the cozy establishment, he spotted Jesse sitting at a table by the window, looking around the place as the gentle music played in the background.

"Y/n, over here!" Jesse waved him over.

Y/n made his way through the bustling restaurant, feeling a pair of eyes on him as he walked. He couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious, but he forced those thoughts aside, reminding himself that this was simply a nice, friendly dinner.

No extra strings attached.

"Hey, Jesse," Y/n greeted politely, sliding into the seat across from Jesse. "This place looks wonderful." He took another glance around the loud, crowded place. Valentine's Day made this place packed.

"It does, indeed," the man sitting across from Y/n agreed, brown eyes flickering over to the fish tank that was on display. "I've heard great things about this place."

A waiter approached their table, handing them menus and offering them drinks. Y/n and Jesse both ordered a lemonade.

"So, what's it like being a doctor?" Jesse asked, leaning back in his seat to give Y/n all his attention. "I imagine long hours."

Y/n nodded in agreement. "Long hours for sure. It's very demanding and a lot of work, yet there's nothing more rewarding than helping patients with health issues."

"That paycheck must be very rewarding too," he said. "With that salary, you get to live in a big house and drive a fancy car."

The waiter returned with their drinks and took out his notepad, asking them what they wanted to order. Jesse ordered a steak with a side of mac and cheese, and broccoli cheese casserole. Y/n then ordered a simple cheeseburger and fries. The waiter said their meals would arrive shortly as he took their menus and left the two alone.

Y/n took a sip from his lemonade before answering Jesse’s remark. "Well, believe it or not, I don’t live in a big house. I live in a small apartment. However, I plan on upgrading to a house once my student loans are fully paid off, which should be real soon. I also plan on keeping my Chrysler. I’ve never been much of a big spender; I like the financial stability that comes with being a doctor. But enough about me. What do you do for a living?"

Jesse explained that he works in the finance department of Stark Industries. He analyzes investments and monitors the company’s financial performance. That was simply remarkable, especially to work for such a renowned company.

Soon, their food arrived, and they dug in, the conversation flowing easily between them. They talked about their hobbies and even shared embarrassing stories from their childhood, laughing together.

As the evening progressed, Y/n relaxed, enjoying the time he shared with Jesse. It had been a very long time since he'd connected with someone so effortlessly, and Y/n found himself hoping that this wouldn't be the last time they met up.

Y/n and Jesse ordered a rich chocolate soufflé to go and decided to split the bill, both insisting on contributing. As they walked out of Lepley's, they realized that their cars were parked on opposite sides of the lot. Jesse's eyes wandered to Y/n.

"Well, I think it's time we call it a night. Thank you for having dinner with me."

Y/n smiled. "Thank you for inviting me. It was definitely better than spending this day alone with a box of pepperoni pizza."

Jesse nodded, placing a hand on Y/n's shoulder. "Happy Valentine's Day, Y/n."

"Happy Valentine's Day, Jesse," he said.

And then, the two men parted ways. As Y/n walked to his car, he felt a sense of content. He was glad he had gone out tonight, and he could say that thoughts of his ex-boyfriend were no longer at the forefront of his mind. Despite the rocky start to his day with Stephen, the night with Jesse had ended on a good note.

Or so he thought.

Y/n had just unlocked his car door when he felt a hand cover his mouth and pull him backward. Startled, he tried to push his assailant off, but the person wouldn't let go, keeping a tight grip on him. He was dragged into an alley, and the arms around him finally released their grip. Y/n scrambled forward and turned to see who the fuck had dragged him in there.

And it was Stephen. Fucking. Strange.

"What the fuck Stephen?!" Y/n shouted, his heart pounding hard and fast in his chest. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Stephen remained silent, staring at Y/n angrily. He was pissed. Before Y/n could react, Stephen pushed him up against the wall, his hand wrapping around Y/n's throat, squeezing the sensitive area a bit.

The dark-haired doctor leaned in close, their noses almost touching. "Who was that guy you were having dinner with?"

"I... I was just hanging out with a friend."

"A friend?" Stephen's lip curled. "Is that what you call it? I saw the way you were looking at him. I won't tolerate cheating."

"You can't cheat on someone when you're not together, which we aren't!" Y/n felt drained by this entire situation. This dude was crazy and needs serious help.

"Oh, we’re together. Always," Stephen pressed his body against Y/n's and dry-humped him from the front. "and forever." Stephen then pressed his lips to Y/n’s. The kiss was aggressive, almost violent, and Y/n tried to pull away, but Stephen held him in place, his hand leaving Y/n's throat to grip his jaw. "You always did like it rough," he murmured against his mouth before pulling away with a grin.

But the grin soon faded as Y/n's foot connected with Stephen's groin, causing him to double over in pain and drop to the ground. Y/n seized the opportunity to run back to his car and drive away, his hands shaking on the steering wheel. As he turned off his car engine, entered his apartment, and dropped his keys on the table, Y/n's hands were still trembling.

This was the last straw for Y/n.

Tomorrow morning, Y/n is filing a report with Human Resources and if that didn't resolve the situation, he would consider transferring to a different department. This kind of behavior cannot continue.

XXXXX XXXXX

Y/n was up early the next morning, determined to meet up with HR before his shift started. He was going to put an end to this situation with Stephen once and for all. It was clear that Stephen had developed an unhealthy obsession with him, and the h/c-haired male refused to put himself in more situations like this.

After a shower and a cup of coffee, Y/n dressed in a sharp suit, ready to face the confrontation head-on. He was aware that presenting himself confidently and assertively would be important to being taken seriously. As he finished tying his tie, the news played in the background — something he usually ignored while getting ready for work. But this time, Y/n turned the volume up and his eyes were wide with shock at the reporter's words.

A picture of Stephen appeared on the screen, and the reporter explained that Strange had been involved in a major car crash, his vehicle flying off the road and crashing into a nearby riverbank. He had died from the accident last night.

Stephen was dead.

A mixture of emotions washed over Y/n, but the predominant feeling was... relief. He was relieved that he wouldn't have to deal with Stephen or his antics anymore, and he could go to work without always worrying about being harassed. A smile crept onto Y/n's features as he shut off the TV with a click of the remote. He no longer had to worry about talking to HR.

Today was going to be a great day at work. In fact, it turned out to be his best.

As the months passed, Y/n's life only improved. He finally finished paying off his student loans and upgraded to a four-bedroom house, ecstatic to move out of the city and away from the constant chaos that seemed to surround his old apartment building. He received a salary raise at work, took a vacation, and even adopted a golden retriever named Max to share his new home with. His life was great, and he's going to keep it like that.

Y/n was now sitting on his couch in the living room, channel surfing as his dog snoozed by his side. A huge storm raged outside, with lightning flashing, thunder rumbling, and rain pouring down. He had just found a channel to settle on when the lights flickered and the TV shut off.

"Damn this storm," Y/n muttered.

With a sigh, the man grabbed his phone and headed toward the basement. When he reached the circuit breaker, he flipped the switch, and his lights came back on.

Y/n returned upstairs, but he felt too tired to stay up any longer. He had been dozing off before the lights went out, so he decided to go to bed. After changing into his pajamas, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and let out a small scream. Stephen Strange was standing behind him, a smirk tainting his features. But when Y/n turned, no one was there.

He looked around the room, ensuring that no one was in his house, and shook his head, thinking his mind was playing tricks on him. Stephen was dead; there was no way he could be standing here. It had to be his imagination or something.

With that thought, Y/n got underneath the covers and closed his eyes tightly. The sound of rain always helped him fall asleep faster. He entered the first stage, the twilight stage, when the man heard a weird noise that he couldn't describe. He opened his eyes to see an orange portal materializing on his bed. And he backed away very fast. What the hell was that? Just then, he was sucked into the portal, only to find himself... back in his room?

Y/n blinked. He realized that he was, indeed, back in his own bedroom, but something felt off. How had he fallen through some sort of portal in his room, only to end up back in the same place?

"Leave it to you to make pajamas look sexy, Y/n," a familiar voice commented.

The h/c-haired male stilled, recognizing the voice. No, no, no, that can't be right.

But, sure enough, when Y/n turned, there stood Stephen Strange. He was alive...? And wearing some sort of cloak.

"W-What are you doing here? They said you died in the car crash," he stammered.

Stephen threw his head back in laughter as if that idea was totally preposterous. "Well, technically, I did die in the crash, I was saved, thanks to surgery. I went to Kamar-Taj, became a wizard, and all that good stuff. The Sorcerer Supreme here."

Y/n couldn't believe this. How had this guy managed to do bad shit and become a wizard? It seemed unfair. Y/n tried to take a step back, wanting to put more distance between them, but Stephen held up his hand, and Y/n's lower body froze. He couldn't move the lower half of his body — no matter how hard he tried.

"What the hell did you do to me?" Y/n tried to run but, once more, couldn't do it.

"Just something to ensure you don't run off on me," Stephen explained, walking towards Y/n until he was standing right in front of him, eyes glancing at Y/n lips. "You know, I've missed the taste of you."

Before he could speak, Stephen's mouth captured his in a fierce, possessive kiss. Y/n couldn't move his lower body, but he could still move his face, so he turned his head to the side. Stephen gripped his jaw, forcing Y/n to maintain eye contact, and continued his relentless, demanding kiss. Finally, Stephen pulled away, his breathing ragged. "Tell me you love me," he whispered, cupping Y/n's face in his hands, his thumbs stroking Y/n's cheeks.

Y/n shook his head, his breath coming in short gasps, "I hate you so much, man."

The wizard paused, his eyes darkening. "You hate me?" he repeated slowly, his voice low and dangerous. And he looked furious, pissed. With a wave of his hand, Y/n was thrown on the bed and landed with a thud. Stephen climbed on top of him, pinning his arms against the bed. "You hate me after everything I've done for you? After everything I've given you?"

"Yes, I do," Y/n breathed out truthfully. "Because you're fucking crazy, Stephen."

"Now, that’s one thing we can agree on," Stephen released his right hand to run his finger over Y/n’s jawline. "I’m crazy for you, and you are going to love me."

Then, something weird began happening to Y/n. Longing and desire engulfed him, his thoughts filling with images of the person he hated most. No matter how hard he tried to think of someone else, his thoughts kept returning to Stephen.

"What," Y/n shook his head as if he was trying to shake whatever was happening to him off. "What did you do to me?" His vision was starting to become blurry.

"Rest now, my love. We'll talk later,"

Y/n soon slipped into unconsciousness, his mind clouded with confusion and a growing sense of unease for the future.

Stephen smiled as he watched Y/n fall into a deep sleep, his breath evening out. He moved to place Y/n's head in his lap, gently stroking his hair. Even asleep, Y/n looked good, just as he was that night.

The Sorcerer Supreme's thoughts drifted back to that fateful night with Y/n, the night that had changed everything. He remembered the way Y/n had looked at him across the crowded bar, their eyes locking briefly before Y/n quickly looked away, taking another sip from his drink. Stephen had known in that instant that Y/n was interested, and their amazing night together had only confirmed his theory—they were meant to be together. That night was literal proof of their love.

When Stephen had woken up the next morning to find Y/n gone, he had been confused about his whereabouts. But he had shrugged it off, absolutely certain that he would see his lover again soon.

And when he saw Y/n in the lounge, he couldn't resist coming up behind him and kissing his neck. God, Y/n's skin had felt so good against his lips, and he had the sudden urge to take Y/n right then and there. But Y/n had surprised him by saying that their night together had been a mistake. There was no way that night could've been a mistake. It was perfect.

Stephen knew that Y/n was only saying that because he was scared — scared of getting into another relationship. And that was okay. Stephen would give him the space he needed because he knew that deep down, Y/n felt the same way.

So, he had given him space, settling for watching him like a hawk from afar. But when Valentine's Day rolled around, the best holiday for couples, Stephen knew it was the perfect opportunity to spend some time together. Y/n had more than enough time to get over that stupid ex, and now it was their time to be together.

Stephen had also decided to get Y/n some generic Valentine's Day gifts, chocolates, and flowers, and planned to take him to a fancy restaurant in the city. But once again, Y/n didn't want to go out with him, which was starting to piss him off. After all, they were boyfriends after their night together, so why did Y/n keep insisting that they weren't? It's annoying.

However, what was even more annoying was discovering that Y/n was going on a date with someone else. Someone who wasn't him. Stephen's blood had boiled with unruly anger. How dare he cheat on him like this? He wouldn't stand for it.

The surgeon hadn't thought twice before he pulled Y/n into an alley after his date and scolded the man for cheating. Y/n was clearly playing hard to get, wanting to make him jealous, and it was working. Stephen was going to show Y/n exactly who he belonged to, which had resulted in a kick to the groin. That had been painful, but he had recovered quickly and hopped into his car to follow Y/n. He wouldn't let Y/n escape his grasp.

That's when he got into a car accident and died briefly during surgery before being brought back to life. He was then taken to Kamar-Taj, where Stephen had become the Sorcerer Supreme and the Master of the Mystic Arts. Pretty cool.

Throughout his time there, one person remained at the forefront of his mind.

Y/n.

Stephen had also realized that his love for Y/n was still strong, and he knew that Y/n loved him as well, even if he was too stubborn to admit it. Now that he was a wizard, he was going to use his abilities to bring Y/n to his new home.

And that's exactly what he did.

Stephen brought Y/n to his new home near the Sanctum, using magic to make the inside of the home identical to Y/n's old room. He knew that Y/n would love him for the time and effort he put into making sure everything was just right.

Once again, Y/n surprised him by saying that he hated him, which frustrated him.

Was it that hard for Y/n to accept their love? Well, if he wanted to be stubborn, Stephen would have to make him see it. He cast a spell, a love spell, to ensure Y/n's devotion. It was his way of making Y/n see the truth — they belonged together.

Y/n woke up sometime later, yawning. His eyes fluttered open. The first thing he saw was Stephen, sitting next to him.

"Are you okay, my love?" Stephen asked, fingers tracing patterns on Y/n's cheek.

Y/n smiled lovingly at Stephen, his pearly white teeth flashing. "Of course, I'm okay. I get to wake up every day next to you, handsome." He moved forward and wrapped his arms around Stephen's neck, pulling him into a nice, loving hug.

Stephen's smile was victorious, and he melted into the embrace, his arms coming around to possessively wrap around Y/n's waist. Y/n was finally his, and he had finally admitted that he loved Stephen as much as Stephen loved him.

He knew that some might call him obsessive or even delusional, but he didn't care. He did nothing but help Y/n see the truth. In his eyes, Y/n was his and his alone. He would do whatever it took to keep it that way, no matter what. After all, what’s life without a little danger?

XXXXX XXXXX

#avengers x reader #avengers x male reader #marvel x reader #marvel x male reader #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x male reader #yandere stephen strange #yandere stephen strange x reader #yandere stephen strange x male reader #yandere doctor strange #yandere doctor strange x male reader #dark stephen strange #dark stephen strange x male reader #x male reader #male reader #male reader insert #male reader imagine

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avalordream · 4 months

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Prompt: Imagine you get isekaied in Our Life. Only thing is that you wake up as a child and remember everything. You can only save at this point but you can still access the save and load menu and see your previous runs.

Meanwhile your precious neighbor is slowly becoming self aware, getting deja vu with every passing second- as if this has all happened before...

A/N: A few days after I posted this- a few other thoughts came to mind- SO HERE IS MY ATTEMPT AT VOCALIZING THEM

You’re keenly aware of how small and tiny you are the moment you wake up.

For the first few days, you started to acclimate to…the family home.

It wasn’t YOUR family though. It never was. It was MC’s. Not your’s.

You could project all you wanted onto MC but it was never your family or your life to experience. It was theirs.

Even so, you quickly found yourself missing the life you were used to. More specifically:

The cuisine.

It was hard not to draw suspicion to the fact that you were craving different food genres aside from Mom’s Pamela’s mac and cheese and cheeseburgers.

Ma’s Noelani’s Hawaiian food helped quite a bit to hold you over as you started to ponder over how to approach it.

Kind of hard to bring it up to your MC’s parents that you wanted Asian/Middle eastern/Indian/Pakistani/Mexican/etc food when there was none of that for miles around

For the time being, you had to quietly hint and nudge their thoughts into that direction but not enough to make them suspicious. Noelani obviously had her suspicions about Cove getting into the house from Step 2-3 but never brought it up once. From what you could tell, she was scary observant

Another issue was how clumsy your new body was.

Your mind might be able to remember how to do everyday tasks like writing and such but this tiny body didn’t have the muscle memory to match it

Much to Liz’s dismay, you spent quite a bit of your time forcing your hands and legs to train to do things your adult body could do in a snap

Time wise- technology was a huge sucker punch. It made you feel bad for taking your own devices for granted.

That being said, self learning everything was going to be hard without a phone or computer on hand, especially knowing that you’d have to go through the cursed education system all over again- but most likely much harder

There had to be a reason older folk complained about it, right?...

Your MC’s birthday was the same as your own, just that the birth year is 1997. That being said, the current year was 2006… Funny. You were only two in 2006…

…

Back to self learning, you tried to practice what you considered basic math long after everyone had fallen asleep

Usually, your day was filled with entertaining Shiloh and Liz, playing in the park or going along with whatever Liz said. Judging by the giant for sale sign across the street and the date, you figured out that you got isekaied roughly at least a month or two before Cove and Mr. Holden would move in.

Who knew how that would go now that you weren’t subjected to just three choices?

Even after playing around, your body was exhausted and your baby mind was just as pooped out.

The first few days you would wake up early as children do and tried doing your math and remembering as much as you could at that time

Yeah, Liz nearly gave you a heart attack after she barged in and you had to play it off as you scribbling absolute nonsense cause you were bored

After that near collision, you changed your prep time to being at night. Sure, you woke up to Liz shaking you and not getting enough sleep in the morning, but you needed to refresh your memory the best you could

You couldn’t do it every night though and did your best to keep some sort of schedule so you wouldn’t forget - and worry your MC’s moms

They noticed the first few times of how sleepy you’d be when you’d wake up later than usual - granted if Liz didn’t wake you up - and a few nights after, you nearly got caught right in the middle of your review.

Pam was more sneaky than Noelani, so you should’ve seen this coming- but even so, you had everything spread out on your rug when you just barely heard her footsteps come to your MC’s door

You had enough time to shove everything underneath your bed - your room was messy enough but better safe than sorry - and quickly dive under the covers before you heard your door open with the softest of clicks

She was around for a good while before you heard the door close again but you didn’t relax until you were sure her footsteps went back to the master bedroom

After that, you were much more careful about how long you spent studying and when. You haven’t been caught since.

Occasionally, you’d have to sneak in your MC’s parent’s room to grab any books that you needed. Good thing Noelani was a book nerd.

You did have to be careful about your self learning- you didn’t want them getting any suspicions that their kid was suddenly…different out of nowhere.

You had no idea what MC was like as a kid before the events of Our Life so you tried your best to piece together what you could

Speaking of, there were a bunch of things you quickly realized about Our Life, one of which is that game didn’t go over nearly everything that MC went through, let alone before Cove came or others that it only touched on briefly

For example, the tourists that came and went every year happened to be close friends of Pamela’s from her time in university, hence why they were so friendly to you and Liz in particular.

It was also why they knew how to… handle your ever changing moods. At least-

That’s what it looked like to them.

To you- it was because you had to battle MC’s initial responses to these scenarios.

Go figure, this body still had its fair share of emotions inside of it, leaving you to figure out if this sharp pang of fear or worry was your own or not.

It left you second guessing everything you did, especially when you’d be up at night, studying and practicing your writing

It seriously irked you, knowing your writing was sloppy even though you knew this body couldn’t help it. It didn’t make seeing your scrappy writing less frustrating though

Despite how much you tried to hide how YOU felt, not MC, Noelani still picked up on the small shifts in your behavior.

One of these being the irritation you harbored for your writing.

Speaking of emotions, you found your body easily overwhelmed by any stronger ones- your own irritation making you cry- an alien feeling and one that took even you by surprise.

Worse part? The first time happened was in front of Noelani when she tried to help you practice your penmanship

Naturally, she tried to comfort you MC by trying to console you, saying it’d be better with practice and wiping away your tears but no matter how YOU tried, the tears wouldn’t stop flowing

It wasn’t until much later that you realized that MC’s tiny self had their own limits and by pushing those adult feelings and expectations that YOU had onto it sent it into a messy overdrive.

After that, you had learned to slow down- the world wasn’t ending…even if it felt like it.

…

The nail in the coffin for you that made YOU cry. Not MC’s body: Your dreams started to resemble parts of your life.

You’d dream that you were back at your desk job or filling out mundane paperwork but no matter how boring it’d be, it was YOUR life.

The one YOU were used to and familiar with

You’d always feel so relieved to be back where you were supposed to, whether you were happy with that life or not

It was that feeling of having all your choices in your hand and being in control of where you wanted to go, if that made sense.

Nobody made those choices for you except well…you.

Only to have that feeling of familiarity ripped away once you registered Liz waking you up to play while “Ma and Mom snooze the day away!”

…

You just want to go home…

To YOUR home…

-> Part 1.5 <- ⊹ ‧₊˚ Isekai Self Aware Taglist: @lilqi @annoying-mary ˚₊‧ ⊹

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for-a-longlongtime · 25 days

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Guilty Pleasure (3/7) - dbf!Joel x reader

Sunday dinner with your parents and Joel is... weird. But also hot.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, mdni Series warnings (tba): Age gap (reader is 22, Joel is 42), masturbation (f), use of sex toys, oral sex, PiV, anal, hair pulling, dirty talk, getting caught, playful use of 'daddy' (no real daddy kink), outrageous flirting, groping, reference to m/m, Joel's arms should always come with a warning. No outbreak!AU. Word count: 1.7K A/N: I told you part III would follow soon! I had initially planned this for tomorrow, but then I figured I might as well turn dinner with da-- I mean, dinner into a Sunday meal, because why not. 😈 Thank you so much to everybody who has been commenting, reblogging (I appreciate you sharing it with others!!) and liking this fic so far! Things get messy today... let me know what you think. Is reader playing this right, or...?

< part 2 | series masterlist | main masterlist

Surprisingly, it's Joel who is late for Sunday dinner.

Not your father; he’s home early even, looking tired and stressed but trying to put on a front - which is far from the first time you’ve seen him do so. When you were younger, you once asked your mom why he never was more upfront about having hard days. Since he frequently appeared on tv to talk about new ventures or collaborations, you knew that his work wasn’t exactly easy breezy, but whenever you had asked him about it as a kid, he would brush off those concerns. “Somebody’s gotta do it,” or “I’ve got the experience to pull it off”, or any corny variation of that.

You used to love joining him at his office, something you got away with when you were still in primary school - which you realized later probably had to do with the sizable annual donations your father made to your school. Either way, it was exciting. The massive building where he worked, the technology, all those people looking extremely important in their outfits, swiping access cards in order to get into secure areas, so many meeting rooms, and not to forget the press room. You were in awe, determined to work there when you’d grow up, to follow in your father’s footsteps.

Until things came crashing down.

The missed plays, PTA meetings, and staying up late weren’t so bad initially. What started bothering you the most was how everybody seemed to give him a pass. Most of all your grandmother. She spoke about how your grandfather used to be in charge, many years before your father took over, and how good he was. How your father was so much like him. Responsible, in charge, a leader, ‘such a good man’.

And see - that was the problem. Because no matter how well you did at school or with the things you loved to do, it always felt like you were merely in his shadow. You’d never be respected the way he is - because you weren’t like him, or them, which everybody seemed to expect.

So you decided to not care. Absolutely zero fucks. You didn’t need his approval, or anyone else’s. You were going to do whatever you wanted to do.

This summer, that meant doing Joel. A lot, preferably.

Joel, sitting at the table with you and your parents, looking all broad in his green flannel, almost having missed dinner this evening - which of course you would’ve gotten shit for if it had happened to you. “Issues at the construction site, damn Tommy couldn’t handle it on his own,” he grouses as your dad puts a beer in his hand, while your mom assures him it is no problem.

Aside from Joel being so damn distracting with his presence, it’s weird to all be seated at the dinner table on a Sunday. It’s not just that this hadn’t happened since you moved home for the summer; it actually was something that hadn’t happened in many years. While your father is talking to Joel about his work day, you get up and wander over to the fridge to grab a beer, grateful for the hoppy refreshment as it hits your taste buds. Liquor would be better, but this will do for now. You watch your parents and Joel talk, not even being aware of you having stepped away from the table. You finish the rest of the beer and put the empty bottle aside, then grab a new one from the fridge to take back to the table.

The drink helps you feel a little more comfortable in your own skin, tune out the chatter that you’re not too interested in, and rather take advantage of the opportunity to watch Joel. Perhaps his mouth and hands in particular, as you imagine them on you, feeling that stubble against your own decidedly softer skin; your cheek, or between your thighs, or elsewhere. He doesn’t seem too aware of your eyes on him, talking with your mom about some pergola or something.

Meanwhile, your father does seem to be paying attention to you, which almost catches you by surprise. But unsurprisingly it takes just a couple of moments until he’s irritating you again. “Were you able to stop by at the DMV to get your license sorted out?”

“No, I haven’t. I’ll get it done, just let it go - okay?,” you sigh, annoyed that he’s bringing it up for the fourth time in a few weeks. “A rideshare to the nearest one is just so expensive. If I could just use mom’s car…”

Your mom pauses her conversation with Joel as she shakes her head. “Without a license? I don’t think so,” she says resolutely. “You’d better figure it out, because I don’t have any time soon to take you over there.”

“Now there’s a shocker,” you mutter to yourself, shaking your head when your father’s voice cuts sharp as he asks if there’s a problem. “No, there’s no problem. I’ll take the damn Uber, if I can….”

“I can take you. Tomorrow afternoon.” Joel’s voice barely interrupts you as he doesn’t lift his eyes from his plate, spearing a little cherry tomato with his fork. “Will that make you stop whining? Need to stop at Home Depot after, though.”

The comment thrills you unexpectedly, though that is tempered a lot by the grin you see on your father’s face, no doubt because of the whining comment Joel made. Asshole. “Can’t make any promises,” you respond breezily. “I’m good company in the car though, as long as I control the aux.”

Joel almost snorts at that, shaking his head. “Over my dead body, kiddo.”

*Kiddo*. It stings, you realize, as you hold on tight to your second beer that’s already half empty, your fingers pressing too hard on the chilly glass. You thought that you two had moved past that now - that being around him, and admittedly dropping some not so subtle cues, would have made it clear to him that you are anything but a kid.

“Well, you’re getting up there in age just like he is,” you say much too casually, leaning back in your chair as you take a long drink of your beer while you nod at your father. “So maybe that won’t be that long from now?”

Your mom hisses your name immediately, looking mortified, but Joel isn’t bothered one bit as he continues to eat his dinner. Meanwhile your dad remains quiet, but the look on his face speaks volumes. You give him a challenging look in return, then finish your beer as you get up from the table again. “Who else wants another drink?”

“I think you’ve had enough for now.” Your father speaks as he takes off his glasses, rubbing his temple as if he feels a headache coming on. “Just finish your food.” You consider ignoring his comment or pushing back some more, but then you get momentarily distracted as the kitchen lights seem to flicker.

“I’m headed out tomorrow at 10 am,” Joel suddenly interrupts your thoughts, now finally looking at you as he reaches for his glass of water. “Don’t be late.”

“For you? Never.” You manage to not bat your lashes as you sit back down and continue your dinner, but your dad is still looking not too amused. He’s easy to ignore though, and as you chew you listen with half an ear to what your mom is saying about some party. It’s not long before your eyes wander back to Joel again, wondering what you could say or do that actually would get under his skin.

He’s sitting right across from you, and without thinking too much about it, you slip your right foot out of your sandal, slouching down a little in your chair. Your heart is racing as you try to calculate the odds of getting it right, but then in an opportune moment when your dad leans over to Joel to talk to him about something, you extend your leg under the table and check whether you can reach Joel’s leg with your bare foot.

When Joel pauses his conversation for a moment, seemingly to gather his words, you know that he most definitely feels your foot against his calf. His eyes flash to you for a quick second, and you innocently smile at him as you slowly run your foot up a little higher, to his knee, while considering how far you could slide it against his thigh without it being noticeable to anyone else.

Meanwhile your dad reaches for the bread basket between him and Joel, taking out a dinner roll, and your heart beats faster when you feel Joel’s leg twitch against your foot. “Could I have the bread basket, please?”, you ask your dad, who nods as he picks it up and hands it to you.

You take the basket from him, picking one of the rolls - and as your dad looks over at your mom who is telling him something, you bring your glance back to Joel. He’s staring right at you now as you’re still rubbing your foot against the inside of his calf, and you see his throat work as he swallows.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

Joel immediately flushes and clears his throat, shifting his chair back a little so your foot can’t reach him anymore, and he reaches for his water so fast that he almost knocks the glass over. You can’t help but giggle, sinking your teeth into the soft bread as you’re feeling pleased - so the man *does* have a weak spot. It just takes the right approach to hit it.

“Think I’m gonna go clean up from work,” he announces as he pushes his nearly empty plate back, giving your mom an apologetic look. “Been a long day. The food was so good, though.”

“The food’s wonderful.” Your dad nods in agreement as he takes the last bite of his bread. “Did you still want to hit up the gym?”, he asks Joel as he reaches for their plates as he gets up from the table. “I’ve got about an hour now before I need to head out again.”

You dig your nails deep into the palm of your hand under the table as you watch the men leave the room, your eyes following Joel’s every step. Fuck, he’s hard. Or at least has a semi in those jeans. It makes you feel giddy and accomplished, and you can’t wait to tell your friend about this latest development.

next: part 4 >

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#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #dbf!joel #tlou au #joel miller fanfiction

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matan4il · 3 months

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Out of curiosity, what does the UN actually gain from keeping the terrorists in power? Obviously antisemitism but way do they materially gain?

Anon, don't be so quick to dismiss antisemitism. It's a really powerful motivator, for some people even more than money, because it is often to connected to a person's views of themselves, their society and the world. As such, antisemitism can be linked to issues of self-worth or hope for the future. And the place where someone's self-worth depends on demonizing Jews, or their future hopes depends on the notion that their society will be so much better, if only a Jewish collective (whether the Jewish religion, race or state) will be dismantled, they are emotionally invested in ways that can be far more crucial to them than money.

So I personally do think that antisemitism played a big role in how the UN has acted regarding Israel for decades.

For example, the UN sets up a special agency to help Koreans in Dec 1950 (UNKRA). By Jul 1958, less than 8 years later and 5 years after a ceasefire was achieved between the two Koreas, the agency was seen as having served its purpose, and was dismantled. Since then, if there are ever Korean refugees still in need of help, it goes through the general UNHCR (established 1951. It replaced the UN's temporary agency IRO, established Dec 1946, which itself took over from UNRRA, established Nov 1943), the UN refugee agency that takes care of ALL refugees in the world... except the Palestinian ones. Their agency (UNPRP) was established by UN resolution 212 in Nov 1948, and later became UNRWA in Dec 1949.

Now, take a second to consider how there was NEVER any UN agency dedicated specifically to help about 1.5 million Jewish Holocaust survivors at the end of WWII, which is May 1945 (with many of them still being murdered after the end of the war, in places like Poland in Jul 1946 or Libya in the Nov 1945 and Jun 1948 pogroms). No special agency for them, no intervention to protect people who had literally been through and somehow survived the worst genocide in human history, and were still being targeted and killed after it was done, even though the UN had a talent for establishing plenty of refugee agencies just fine during those years. But there was a special agency set up for the Arabs in the Land of Israel, even though they were the aggressors in the 1947-1949 Independence War, and it still operates to this day, unlike UNKRA, which was set up later than UNRWA. Why? What reason is there for treating Holocaust victims worse than the Arabs who declared a war of extermination against Jews in Israel? Or for treating Palestinians better than any other group of refugees in the world, even though other groups often need the help much more?

I can only see one thing in common when it comes to all of these illogical, counterintuitive decisions, and that is antisemitism. Dislike the Jews? Deprive them of getting their own agency, even while others get one. Hate the Jews? Dedicate special resources to the refugees who can be used as a political pawn against the Jewish state, while still counting them as refugees even after being resettled with citizenship elsewhere, unlike every other refugees group.

And never forget, the UN's voting "democracy" (where antisemitic abuse is not penalized in votes) IS inherently vulnerable to the tyranny of the majority. There is only one Jewish state at the UN. There is a block of over 20 Arab countries, another of over 50 Muslim ones, and when they're told a lie such as the one invented by Amin al-Husseini in 1929, that the Jews are attacking the al-Aqsa mosque, then it's easy to recruit all of them against Israel without even much effort. Then add countries which have vested interests in keeping the Arab and Muslim countries on their side, or who have issues with the pro-west, pro-democracy countries (and Israel is not only one of them, it is closely allied with the US, which is the leader of that stance) and basically the one Jewish state has close to no chance.

But over the years, in addition to being invested in keeping the issue of the Palestinian refugees going as a tool against Israel, to present the Jewish state as uniquely oppressive, the UN has also become invested in the jobs that the conflict produces for its members. UNRWA alone employees over 30,000 people and is, by the UN's own admission, one of its biggest employers.

On top of that, the UN also has other workers who deal specifically with the conflict (and therefore are employed thanks to it), such as OCHA oPt. OCHA (Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs) is the "humanitarian arm" of the UN and oPt is its branch that takes care specifically of the Palestinians. WHY is there even a need for this, if the Palestinians already have (UNIQUELY!) an entire UN agency dedicate just to them? And then on top of that (yes! A redundancy on top of a redundancy!) they also have a Palestinian branch for the OHCHR (Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights).

Having so many employees dedicated to this specific conflict does make the UN financially invested in keeping it from being resolved. Also, it's probably easier to get donations for the UN when talking about this falsely over-hyped conflict (here's a recent example, a report shows there's no famine in Gaza, the UN has known this and kept it quiet), especially when the hype is fed by so many antisemites happy to spread libels about the Jewish state. Some of the antisemites are likely very rich and happy to donate to any organization targeting Israel (I can even name some very wealthy governments happy to continuously donate to the UN and UNRWA, when they're also known for their antisemism, like financially sponsoring known antisemitic professors at US universities).

I do think the antisemitism is what enabled the creation of the financial aspect to the UN's anti-Israel bias, and interest in preserving the conflict, but now I'll mention one more factor. It's also one that IMO was preceded by the antisemitism and financial interest, but now it adds its own fuel to the fire. Since 2007, when Hamas violently took over Gaza, in order to keep its programs running there, the UN has been collaborating with Hamas. Because that's what happens in an actual dictatorship, which has absolute power over its people, and doesn't allow for any civilian liberties. If you wanna run a UN agency in North Korea, you will HAVE to collaborate with Kim Jong Un's dictatorial regime. And if you want to run a UN agency in Gaza post Jun 2007, you will HAVE to collaborate with Hamas. So that's exactly what the UN has been doing in Gaza. In doing so, it has been collaborating with a genocidal, antisemitic, radical Islamist, terrorist organization. And as has allowed Israel to enter Gaza and gather evidence, we have more and more proof that the UN is complicit in Hamas' crimes. That is NOT something the UN wants the world to realize. So it's trying its best to stop Israel from fighting in Gaza, to prevent the gathering of further evidence, at the same time that the UN is doing its best to screw over Israel's credibility. If the UN can vilify the best witness against it, who will believe the evidence about its complicity anyway?

I hope that helps answer the question!

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

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johnbrand · 2 months

Text

Fathering Normality

“And then I just shoved it right in!”

Luke grunted as he thrust forward, drawing a laugh out of his friend Colton. Luke had been recounting the entire night before to him, going over every detail. How it started as a boner, how that boner led him to a bar, how that bar led him to rubbing up against some girl, and how that girl led him to shooting multiple loads directly into her tight pussy.

“It was exhilarating!” Luke recalled, the natural masculinity giving his voice a gruff, dense texture. “And all I can think about now is…doing it again…and again!”

Luke thrusted once more, trying to relieve the pressure building up in his thick cock. Colton could not help but happily smile along with his friend, very familiar with the experience of breeding a woman himself. In fact, his girlfriend had recently found out she was pregnant. When Colton had first received the news, he had been ecstatic. When Luke had received the news from Colton days later, he had not been.

Just a week ago, Colton and Luke had been in the same positions; Luke dramatically recounting some tale while Colton laid back and listened. Although, that time had been more violent. “What do you mean she’s pregnant?” Luke cried. “What are you two going to do? You’re too young, neither of you have secured jobs. We all just barely graduated from college a few years ago!”

Argument after argument flew by, but eventually Colton could not handle it anymore. His friend was supposed to be supportive, happy for the couple as they were with the situation. Then a strange thought came to Colton’s head–maybe Luke would be more supportive if he was able to see his side of things.

Colton had shot the bullet directly into Luke’s head without hesitation. There was no way his gay friend could have understood the joy of breeding, fertilizing, and bearing fruit other than by being converted to try it himself. Of course, Luke did not remember the sound of the gun firing, dropping to the floor, or his limp body being handed over to local enforcement. Colton did not even think Luke remembered the past version of himself. And now that Colton had met the new model, he hoped he would soon forget too.

Gay Luke had been fun. A little bit on the shorter, skinnier side, but still a ball of energy. He always had a theatrical flair, and he kept himself well-maintained, but he had commitment issues and terrible spending habits. This Straight Luke though, had nearly made the equally heterosexual Colton blush. He was now much taller, more muscular, with that ball of energy transformed into sheer masculine confidence. Luke still held that capacity to put on a performance, but now it was powerful and captivating.

Colton had contacted Luke at the end of the incubation period, not knowing what to expect. Yet he would have never predicted the stacked body-builder in a plain, short-sleeved button-up and dirty jeans appearing at his door. Sure, there were some things Colton felt a little guilty about. Luke’s former luscious locks had thinned out and shortened into a tiny quiff afflicted by male pattern baldness. His hygiene had definitely taken a hit; Colton had smelt the new funk as soon as those massive shoes had come off at the door. But the conversion affected everyone differently, so because Luke appeared obliviously overjoyed with heterosexuality, Colton felt that he could be too.

“So I just started countin’ as I rammed in. ‘One, two,’” Luke continually thrusted to display his point. “And eventually, it had to be like on 15 or 16, I felt that first burst of ecstasy. After that I lost count, I just went into hyper-mode.”

Colton chuckled, getting up to grab us some beers. He tossed one to Luke.

“Thanks bro,” Luke cracked his cold one open. “By the way, what did you call me over for anyway?”

“Oh man, I thought I already told you,” Colton half-lied. “My girl’s pregnant: I’m gonna be a dad.”

Luke’s eyes lit up, “DUDE! That’s awesome! Congratulations!! God, if only I could be so lucky, right?”

Colton cheered to that, smirking at the possibility. He had been right when he had chosen to father normality. Thanks to him, one could metaphorically say he would soon be fathering twice the amount of children as a result of Luke’s conversion.

#gay to straight #male tf #male transformation #breeder tf #normality tf

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brodieland · 7 months

Text

.˚ 𓈒 ࣪.𝝑𝝔 Can we finally call a Truce? ´ˎ˗

Percy Jackson x Fem!Hades!Reader Synopsis: After the years of hating each other (secretly pining), you're finally together !! Now how does your dad take the news..? Warning(s): some swearing Word Count: 2342

╰➤ MASTERLIST pt5

2 weeks later

[11:39] AM

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＠seaweedbrain • 10 min

Liked by Styxgirl and more.. ＠seaweedbrain: embarrassing the way me and my girl eat all y'all up🤦🤦 View comments..

＠StyxGirl: ughh who is that girl and why is she so finee😭 →＠seaweedbrain: ＠StyxGirl she not allat fr (im horrendously down bad) →＠deathboynico: ＠seaweedbrain take it to the dms😬👋 →＠seaweedbrain: ＠deathboynicoo I will spam about my gf as much as I dam well pls !!

＠wisegirl: we did itt🙄 ＠BeaurengardOnTop →＠BeaurengardOnTop: ＠wisegirl only took like five years brooo 😭👋 →＠seaweedbrain: ＠BeaurengardOnTop better late than neva‼️ →＠StyxGirl: ＠BeaurengardOnTop mb im a little stubborn😛 →＠seaweednbrain: ＠StyxGirl make up for it by coming over !

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝜗𝜚

And there you were, on your way to meet up with your boyfriend. Yes, boyfriend. Percy Jackson was now your boyfriend. When you told your beloved friends Silena and Annabeth, they weren't as shocked about it as you thought they would be.

"Finally."

"It's not like we weren't expecting it."

Maybe at least pretend. Let's all hold hands in a circle and jump up and down and chant of happiness. Okay maybe that's too much, you had just thought that after all the screaming at you to get it together, they'd have more of a reaction for when you finally got it together. Whatever, moving on. Finally you made it to Percy's, aw he left the door open this time. Now what if you just scared him a little.

You slowly walked through the door to be sure not to make any noise. After you did that you tip-toed your way to his room and ran through the door, the loud sound of it combined with your screaming scared the shit out of him.

He threw his phone in the air and sat there like the soul left his body. "Did I scare you?"

"I think I saw the stars" you started laughing at Percy as you walked toward him. "No like never do that again please."

"Hey," you sat on your legs in front of him on his bed. "No promises" you smiled as you leaned forward and kissed him, which he happily did back. You pushed back into him, laying down on top of him. After a few minutes your phone started ringing from your back pocket. You went to reach for it when Percy grabbed your hand.

"Come on just ignore it" and went back to kissing you. You ignored the phone till it stopped ringing. You went and continued on with what you were previously doing, at least that's what you wanted to do. Right after it stopped ringing it started again. You leaned up from Percy and let out an exasperated and dramatic sigh as you got up and answered the phone.

"Hello" you said harshly.

"Sorry to interrupted you" Nico said. "Jeez."

"Nico did you need something" you said trying to get him to talk quickly.

"Did you forget what day it is" Nico asked.

"Enough with your little riddles what is it?" SPIT IT OUT.

"Its parents day" Nico stated.

"So what, our moms are dead, who cares." Percy almost laughed at your bluntness but he didn't know if it was the time for that.

"Not those parents, godly parents. Dads here." You almost dropped the phone out your hand when he said that.

"Dads there" you asked, voice sounding a little high-pitched.

"Yup, so you might wanna hurry up. Bye." Shit. See the thing is, you weren't necessarily scared of your dad. Maybe a little, he has anger issues. Despite him being Hades, him being your father made him less scary, but you guys still weren't the closest. The only problem is Percy, your boyfriend, and guy you are currently sitting on. He has a hatred for Percy one would not understand and you don't want to know how he would react to him now dating his daughter.

"My dad's here" you said once more. You looked down at Percy who looked a little nervous. "Why are you suddenly nervous about Hades' presence?"

"Because he hates me and I'm sleeping with his daughter."

"Haha. Well, I gotta run, literally. Bye" you said as you quickly pecked him and ran back to your dorms. Not even noticing Poseidon chillin the couch relaxing, and knowing of your presence. It only took 6 minutes to make it back home, that may have been record time. You summed through the door and opened it to see your dad and Nico sitting on opposite sides of each other in the living room.

Nico and your father never had the greatest relationship and it really showed. Ever since his his real sister Bianca died, their relationship was strained. You wondered if she never passed, would your father had liked him more? All you knew was that it was better for everyone if you were around, less awkward. Kind of.

"Hey guys" you said as you slide in the seat next to Nico. He looked kind of nervous, expected when your sitting in front of the god of death, even if he is your father.

"Hello Y/N, me and Nico were just.. talking." It was silent when you walked in.

"Really? About what?" You played into it. You turned and saw Nico suppressing a small smile.

"you know, the usual" Nico said. Code for nothing by the way. You wanted to laugh a little but you didn't let that show.

"I didn't realize my kids were little jokesters" Hades said seriously. "Y/N, did you forget the date today?"

"Um, no" you lied.

"Then why is it you weren't here. What was more important that seeing your father? Hmm?" Your father questioned you. It felt like he knew, but its not like you or anyone you know would've told him. They know his feelings about Percy. And there's actually no way Hades uses instagram. As you were in thought, you may or may not have been quiet a little too long.

"Did you know Aphrodite hasn't shut up about this little love show of hers? Do you know how it felt to find out she was speaking of my daughter and Percy Jackson of all people? And the pictures online on that weird app she showed me? Despicable." Your father rambled while shaking his head. You turned to Nico in shock while you watch him try not to laugh at your possible despair.

"Um, surprise? I guess.." you said unenthusiastically and nervous.

"I'd kill that boy, but it'd be a whole thing with my brother. I'm not in the mood for that family drama." Hades rolled his eyes while speaking. "You have a rather ill choice with men in my opinion. You must hope I don't have a run-in with that boy. And lastly, if he even dares step foot in my realm once more, just remember I don't care if he's your.. boyfriend." He didn't elaborate on what would happen if Percy stepped foot in the underworld again, he didn't need to say another word for you to get the picture of what would happen to him. You were sure he didn't even want to go back in the first place. Unless maybe his mom got kidnapped again, but you know, fat chance.

"Yeah.. gotcha." You said simply. That actually went easier than you thought it would.

"Always, nice to see you both, but I must head out" Hades said as he stood up from his seat.

"Bye dad" you and Nico said at the same time. You both sat in silence as you watched your father walk out the room and disappear back to the underworld. You let out a sigh as you lifted your feet on the couch and leaned over on Nico's shoulder. He leaned his head on yours.

"Next time I'll remember the date and not leave you too alone again, I know its awkward" you said.

"At least he was just focused on you" Nico sighed.

"Yeah, blame Aphrodite for that I guess." You sat up. "And why didn't you get grilled about Will" you said jokingly annoyed.

"Well for starters, maybe because Will isn't like, his mortal enemy." Oh okay.

"Alright bro, no need to get snappy with me."

"Sorry Y/N, just stating facts here" Nico shrugged. "Anyways I was in fact planning to hangout with Will so.." Aww, wait..

"Are you kicking me out again?"

"Sorry, he has to many siblings" Nico said.

"Whatever, I was gonna head back to hang out with Percy anyways" you said as you got up headed it out. Nico shouted a bye from the couch and you shouted it back as you shut the door and made your way to Percy's.

Finally your back. You are currently standing at the door pounding on it like there's no tomorrow. Fifteen seconds later Percy opened the door looking at you wide-eyed.

"How'd it go with your dad" he asked quickly making you laugh. He moved to the side letting you in.

"Oh it went fine, just make sure to stay out of his way and the underworld or, you know" you said knowing you didn't need to continue speaking.

"Sounds just like my brother" you stopped in your tracks. Poseidon, Percy's dad, is currently sitting on the couch.

"Oh, um... hello." You said. Percy chuckled at your awkwardness.

"Don't worry, just cause your dad would like to blast me to bits doesn't mean my dad feels the same about you." you rolled your eyes as Percy said this. Poseidon just laughed at the two.

"I would've said hello to you earlier but you were running out quite fast" what was he.. oh.

"Oh, you were here?" You were just thinking about what if Nico never called you getting to to go home. Now THAT would've been more awkward than having a conversation with your own dad. And for the record, its very awkward.

"Yes I was. Aphrodite would've had a field day" Poseidon joked. You and Percy got a little warm in the face. "Anyways I must be off now, things to do and kingdoms to run, you know how it is." Poseidon walked up to Percy to hug him, he pulled away and ruffled his hair before walking out the door.

"I wish Hades was friendlier like Poseidon."

"Me too."

"Wanna have a movie night" you asked.

"Oh my gods let's go. I'll go make popcorn" Percy said excitedly.

"We're having a Harry Potter movie marathon" you stated as you went to get the first movie ready.

"Yo low-key I could take him in a fight. He's not all that." Percy said as the microwaved beeped letting us know that the popcorn finished.

"That's really interesting Percy"

"You know I could why are you the way you are" Percy was sitting down next to you on the couch, moving close under the blanket.

"You mean why am I so amazing and cool and sexy and hot" you joked.

"I think we should just click play"

You guys stopped paying attention after the first movie.

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＠StyxGirl • 5 min

Liked by deathboynicoo and others... ＠StyxGirl: someone tell me why Aphrodite is showing my dad my instagram💀💀 ＠seaweedbrain View comments...

＠BeaurengardOnTop: bc we knew Hades was on instagram💀 →＠seaweedbrain: ＠BeaurengardOnTop are you trying to get me killed?? →＠BeaurengardOnTop: ＠seaweedbrain perchance. →＠wisegirl: ＠BeaurengardOnTop YOU CANT JUST SAY PERCHANCE??

＠deathboynicoo: she almost got ur boyfriend killed🤦 →＠StyxGirl: ＠deathboynicoo ur boyfriend could be next if u don't watch out🤷‍♀️

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[10:35] AM

When you woke up you were now alone on the couch. You sat up and looked around for Percy when you smelled waffles. The delicious smell gravitated you toward the kitchen.

"Good morning" you greeted Percy. You walked over behind him while he stood at the stove as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

"Good morning sleepyhead" Percy said. You kissed him on his back and jumped on the counter next to the stove.

"What a gentleman, cooking me breakfast." He looked at you confused, making you confused. "What?"

"What makes you think this is for you, I was the hungry one who took initiative" he looked at you like it was obvious.

"You're saying" you swung your arms around "all of this food is for you? You dam near big as hell you know that?"

"Oh I've heard" he winked. You just looked up at the ceiling and sighed, wondering how you got yourself here. "I'm just messing with you, obviously this is for the both of us."

"Thank gods, I was so hungry I wasn't even going to mention the blue waffles." you said as you just picked one up and stuffed it in your mouth.

"Okay, last time I checked we weren't barbarians. Grab a plate" Percy said.

"Ugh what are you my dad" you joked.

"Erm no. I think your dad would actually start a war if he heard you were comparing us" you both just started laughing. After you composed yourself you went and grabbed a plate for your waffle, you proceeded to drown it in syrup, earning a glare from Percy.

"Hey Y/N, don't freak out when I say this but I think there's a waffle hiding in your syrup."

"Oh my god thanks for telling me, I had no idea" you said sarcastically. "Gods forbid I eat the way I like."

"Your allowed to do what you want as long as its not.. never mind. I just forget your so.. special" he paused before he said special, clearly not calling you special the way you would've like. These men.

"Sorry you don't enjoy cuisine the way I do" You rolled eyes as Percy finished getting food and you both sat at the kitchen island to eat. The waffles were really good and didn't need all that syrup by the way. You just liked bothering Percy. You also just liked Percy himself but you didn't need to inflate his ego more (ur dating its okay to say you like him).

..............................................................................................................................

No clue if there's going to be a pt.6, but if have ideas for it lmk🫡

Taglist: @damdemigodishness @katiepotatie @loony-loser @mxtokko <3

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson pjo #percy pjo #percy series #percy jackson fluff #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months

Note

🎶🎻 let's see if this actually helps me find this later

WIBTA for marking up my friend's sheet music?

ok so I (15m) have a friend (17f) and we both play cello in the classical music ensemble at our school. we have both been playing cello for approx 7 years. we had very different musical upbringings: she learned to play cello in a class with a bunch of other kids, and from what I gather there were many other instruments and the teacher took kind of a hands-off approach, which is typical for the kind of elementary school she went to. I, on the other hand, learned through private lessons (which I don't think I'm better for, it's just different) and my teacher (who I still take piano and cello lessons from) is a little bit obsessive when it comes to correct technique and stuff. I care a little less about technique than my teacher, but I definitely developed quite a few of her habits: I always pay really close attention to what the sheet music tells me, especially dynamics and which direction my bow needs to go in, or how many notes I'm playing in a bow stroke. part of this is because that's what the composer would have wanted and also because when I started my teacher would make me mark everything, and I mean EVERYTHING in my sheet music. we're talking fingerings, bow markings, highlighting every chreschendo and decrescendo, putting the counting in for all of the rhythms and more. now I typically only mark super important things, like if I keep forgetting a note or something, and I rarely mark my cello sheet music in ensembles, though everyone has seen me mark my bass music, since I'm new to bass.

Recently, since it's about 2/3rds of the way through the school year and we have a good group, my ensemble has been playing more challenging stuff. the parts or more intricately layered and dynamics are a pretty big thing, especially for the cello section, since we basically have one line for half of a piece which is just to play some half notes that crescendo and decrescendo over and over. and it's like, all we do, like it's a pretty big part of the song. the issue is that my friend just kind of ignores the dynamic markings and bowings in the music and what the other cellists are doing (there's three of us, including me and her and she sits in between us) so she just kinda plays the piece at the same volume. the whole time. and it's written right there. and she's heard me play it solo without the ensemble before, so in theory she knows how to do it. and after seven years of playing the cello, you should have the bow control to play quietly.

now, this wouldn't annoy me so much if her ignorance wasn't a recurring thing. last year, we played aquarius with the jazz ensemble and we both really liked the piece. except we had this one part. we had to play a bunch of tied whole notes in the beginning. just two in a row and then we'd change bows. (if you don't play an instrument, a tied note is basically when the note is played over two measures, in this case we would play the same note fore eight beats, and then reverse the direction of our bow) now, I can hold my bow in one direction for eight beats. it's not fun or easy and I'd rather play a melody or bass line to begin with, but if you're playing quietly (like we were supposed to be) you can maintain a pretty steady pace for eight beats in one bow. my friend NEVER did this. she would just run her bow back and forth on the note until we moved on to the next and then do the same there. and I'm talking like she'd play maybe ten notes while we played one. which, obviously, through off the rhythm. we weren't as close last year and I didn't know she'd been playing as long as she had, so I ignored it. but, she kept doing it and she still does. I've confronted her about it multiple times, saying how it's like if you breathed half way through a note on a wind instrument, how it messes us up because her bow will go in a different direction than the other cellos and hit me in the elbow a lot, and how it makes us look weirdly messy. every time she just kind of says okay and walks off.

now, I think my friend could benefit from having her sheet music marked like my teacher used to make me, because clearly just mentioning it to her is not enough and as we move on to harder music it's making us look worse. so, wibta if I brought some extra pens and highlighters and reminded her to circle or highlight different dynamic, rhythmic and bowing notations if she doesn't play them the first few times?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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flurrys-creativity · 2 months

Text

Limerence

Limerence (n.) - the state of being infatuated with another person

Pairing: Choi San (Ateez) x Fem!Reader; Genre: Slice of Life, Gym Buddies, Smut; Rating: nsfw, 18+, MDNI; Warnings: pervert San, including pervert thoughts, picturing inappropriate scenes, stealing a panty, mentions of the male reproduction organ and the state it's in, SMUT-> oral (m receiving), semi-public sex (as in anybody could have walked in at any time), reverse cowgirl, unprotected sex, cum shot; Wordcount: 2.862

Summary: It all started with a moan. The second San heard your moan, he couldn't forget it. No, his mind and whole being were consumed by it and he needed to fulfil his desire. One way or another.

A/N: This is part of the Perverteez Collab, which came to life with members of @pirateeznet , including: @sanjoongie, @daddyfordaeddy, @mingsolo, @potatomountain, @desirehorizon, @bunnliix and @skteezcursed I definitely enjoyed writing this and I'm all excited for the others to drop their stories sooner or later this year! Go check them out too!

It had all started with a moan.

Skin slapped against skin while the steam of the sauna filled the air. You had your hands tangled in his dark locks, trying to keep yourself grounded while San snapped his hips with harsh thrusts into you.

While you knew what you had innitiated, you never thought it to be like this.

San on the other hand had desperately waited for this day to come.

Ever since you joined the same gym he frequently visited, he was already smitten with you. Something about your aura got his attention and he couldn’t help himself but get to know you.

Over time the both of you became gym friends. You two would run on the treadmills beside each other, help each other during weight training and hang out at the protein bar after workouts.

You had become used to how touchy San was while he guided your form during your sets and you honestly didn’t mind it either. Hence, you had absolutely no issue with him offering his hands for your sore shoulders.

“I really have no strength in my arms and upper body”, you laughed pitifully, wincing when you rolled your right shoulder.

“Yet you could crush a melon with the strength in your legs.” San chuckled softly and handed you one of the two protein shakes he just made.

You accepted it with a smile, but still slumped down on your seat. “Yet, you don’t seem to be as affected on leg day than me after shoulder day.” You grabbed the straw and stirred it around the shake mindlessly with a prominent pout on your lips. “I honestly wish for my arms and shoulders to just fall off.”

San laughed heartily. He even had to place his shake on the counter and hold his stomach, the cartoonish image his mind created had him nearly rolling on the floor. “How about”, he wheezed between his laughter, “I give you a simple massage?”

“You would?” Your eyes widened, sparkling with excitement. The second you saw San nod, you turned on your seat and showed him your back.

Therefore San had abandoned his own protein shake and placed his large hands on your shoulders. At first he only brushed his fingers and palms over your skin. After a few brushes he grew bolder, pressing down into your flesh and muscles in all the right places.

You moaned out, eyes closed with a blissed expression painted over your features. Your head rolled forward and you could feel how your muscles relaxed more and more.

San on the other hand tensed up. That moan did things to him he wasn’t prepared for. His mind almost immediately constructed all kinds of situations where he could hear your moans:

Having you ride his dick in the same sex sauna room, fucking you from behind in the showers, pressing you against a wall of the changing room while fucking your dripping hole or eating you out in one of the fitness course rooms.

He couldn’t care less about who could stumble upon you two - not when you could be moaning out his name, sharing with the world who made you feel so good.

San only snapped out of his thoughts when you placed your hands on his and stopped his ministrations.

“Thanks for the massage, I truly feel new energy running through my veins.” You snickered as you stood up and showcased your arms like a bodybuilder. “Might even go for another workout.”

His eyes followed your form as you skipped away to another machine. San didn’t want to admit it but his gaze was definitely trained on your ass.

Only after you disappeared from his sight did he get a hold of his thoughts again. Heat creeped up his neck and cheeks as guilt spread from his mind throughout his whole body.

Still, your moan haunted his being and mind, his dreams and his everyday life. Whenever he saw you, his desire for you rose again and he needed to fulfil it - one way or another.

“Wait, your position is all sloppy”, San chided you softly and stepped behind you. He pressed your behind against his front, one hand on your hip and the other on your lower stomach.

You squeaked in surprise, feeling his heat radiating against your back. San’s fingertips pressed into your hip tighter than they should and you could feel the outline of his hardening dick. You swallowed audibly, gasping softly at the feeling. Yet, you tried to reason with your thoughts, telling yourself it meant nothing and was simply a natural body reaction of his.

San had his eyes closed and inhaled deeply, absorbing everything from this moment to savour it for later.

These instances happened more frequently, San becoming insatiable. At the same time his guilt increased as well. Every time he pleased himself underneath the showers, picturing your face, body and moans, the feeling of guilt followed soon after: having his face flushed and making him unable to look you in the eye when you two met after changing.

“Sometimes I think you’re taking longer and longer to get changed”, you teased him with a snicker adding to your words. “And I thought women were the ones taking forever.” You pushed yourself up from the chair you had waited on, grabbing your gym bag and hoisting it up on your shoulder.

“You’re imagining things”, San mumbled, pouting and turning even more red than before.

As you only continued giggling about it while moving towards the entrance, San’s gaze dropped down to your ass again. At the same time he noticed something peeking out of your gym bag.

His heart rate quickened upon realising it was your underwear. Any fear or second thoughts left his mind while he hastened his steps, moving to be besides you.

“Stop laughing”, he grumbled, diverting your attention to his face. San sneakily grabbed for the pair of undies, stuffing them immediately into his pocket as if nothing ever happened.

“It’s adorable how red you get when I tease you.”

“Stop teasing me too.”

You laughed even louder now, gleefully shaking your head. “But I love seeing your adorable side.” You raised your hand and cupped his cheek, gently guiding him down to your level so you were able to give him a peck on the other cheek. “See you tomorrow, big boy.”

San clenched his hand around the fabric of your panties, freezing up completely. It wasn’t that he turned into a statue due to your peck. On the contrary, by clenching his hand he actually noticed a wet spot on the fabric. Now his thoughts spiralled while they imagined all kinds of things.

Could it be that you liked him the same way he liked you? That you got turned on by his close presence?

The pad of his thumb rubbed slow circles on the sticky wetness of your panties, making him fantasise about fingering you and circling your sensitive clit. San nearly came in his own pants from these thoughts alone. He immediately stopped his movements, getting overrun with guilt upon seeing you turn around one last time and innocently wave your arm at him.

Part of his brain hated him for having such a dirty mind and all these lustrous thoughts about you. San felt bad for having them, felt bad for making you the object of his desire. Another part of his brain swore to himself to be better.

That resolve died the very next day during his bench presses. You stood right above his face, keeping track of his movements. His face was so close to your entrance, if you would just sit down.

“Hey, focus!” You leaned forward and slapped his upper arm, glaring down at his face before looking back up at his hands and the weights. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

San closed his eyes, simply humming with a restrained tone. He truly tried focusing on his work out but his perverted mind told him he could feel the heat radiating from your thighs right next to his ears. His dick twitched in his sweats and he knew he either had to fuck you immediately or have a steaming hot shower to evaporate his thoughts.

You yelped in surprise when San slammed the iron bar into its safety position all of a sudden. His hands came up to your thighs and pushed you away from his head before he sat up, facing away from you with ears glowing red.

“I need to let off some steam.”

“Well”, you rounded the machine and stood next to him again, “the sauna might help you in that case.”

San only nodded before he stood up and trotted away towards the changing rooms. Initially he wanted to take a shower but the longer he thought about it, the more he feared he’d jack off to your image again. Hence, he followed your suggestion of going into the sauna.

It didn’t surprise him when he entered the mixed cabin and nobody else was in there. Even though there were quite a few members at the gym, most of them stayed away from revealing too much of their body to others - at least when it came to the private parts.

With only a towel around his waist, San sat down in one corner. He leaned back on his elbows and let his head drop back as well, trying to soak in the heat as much as possible. San didn’t even react when he heard the door open and close again, nor did he react to the footsteps walking over.

“Is it helping?”

The speed it took San to sit up straight again nearly gave him whiplashes. He stared at you with wide eyes, hands awkwardly folded over his lap. “I, what, this, I..”

You giggled softly, hiding your mouth behind your hand. “This is the mixed sauna. Are you that surprised to see me here?”

San silently shook his head as his eyes momentarily roamed over your figure. You only wore a towel as well, having it secured with some sort of knot at the front of your chest. The towel barely reached over your ass, making San think of a different kind of steamy yet again. He pressed down on his lap, desperately trying to conceal the massive hard on between his legs. His ears turned red once more, especially when he noticed how your gaze dropped down to his tensed hands and back up, with a glint in your eyes he couldn’t quite put a finger on.

You clasped your hands behind your back, knowing full well that the action seemed innocent but highlighted your boobs perfectly while you softly turned your upper body from side to side. “Is that seat taken?”

San blinked several types, barely processing your question in the first place. “Huh?”

You leaned forward, forcing San to look at your face. “Is THAT seat taken?” You repeated your question, purposefully dropping your gaze down to his lap and back up again.

When San finally shook his head, you placed a hand on one of his knees. You tapped your fingers in a walking motion along his upper leg, grinning to yourself when San unconsciously spread his legs wider. You kneeled in front of him, using your other hand to unclasp his. “Tell me to stop if I’m overstepping.”

San grabbed the wooden planks of the bench right next to his body when your fingers glided over the prominent curve of the towel still hiding his dick.

Your hand, which wandered along his leg, slipped underneath the fabric. You wrapped your fingers around his thick shaft, feeling yourself already getting wet by the thought of having him inside of you.

A soft gasp escaped San’s lips. He stared at your beautiful face, entranced by your aura and your actions. San barely noticed how you pushed the towel away, revealing his cock to you. All he could focus on was your tongue, gliding over your lips in a sensual way right before it connected with the tip of his throbbing dick. He groaned and his eyes fluttered shut. One of his hands came up to your head, fingers threading through your hair while you went down on his length.

While San didn’t push you down, you thrived upon feeling the weight of his hand on the back of your head - combined with the weight of his cock on your tongue. You were able to set your own pace, alternating from slow to fast, deep to shallow.

It didn’t take long to have San a moaning and grunting mess underneath you, his hips stuttering ever so often and making you halt in your movements completely.

San cursed underneath his breath, leaning back on his elbows again and throwing his head back.

You used the chance of him not holding your head anymore - even though he had put no force into it before - to give his shaft one last lick and a kiss on the top before you stood up.

San opened his eyes, about to whine from the lack of stimulation, when he saw your tongue gliding over your lips and licking away the precum that got on it. His eyes glazed over from the desire, making him barely register how you turned away from him.

With San having his legs spread, you stood between them and slowly crouched down. You grabbed his dick and aligned it with your wet hole, going down on him with ease. A moan ripped through your throat when he filled you up completely. You pressed your legs closer together, whimpering from the pleasurable stretch inside of you.

Once you adjusted to his size, you placed your hands on his knees again, using them as leverage to push yourself up and down over and over. You continued riding him and even ignored the burning of your thighs from the constant squats.

As if San came to his senses and noticed how your body fought against exhaustion, he wrapped his arms around your torso. With one hand he pulled the towel down, fondling with your tits and twirling with your nipples. “You sound so beautiful”, he grunted in your ear, pulling you back against his chest and tightening his hold on you, right before his hips snapped into you.

You weren’t sitting anymore, instead lying on his chest. Your head rolled to the side and you felt San immediately latching his lips onto your soft skin. Broken moans came out of your mouth as San started to hit all the right places inside of you as well.

“That’s.. so much.. better.. than I ever.. imagined!” San underlined his statement with hard thrusts, making you cry out in pleasure. “Can’t believe I’m finally fucking you for good. You’re so fucking tight and wet for me! This pussy was made for my cock, made for me to fuck.” One of his hands wandered down to your clit, pinching and rubbing it. “That’s it, that’s my fucking girl.”

You immediately tensed from the added stimulation, feeling your high approach faster than you anticipated. His hands, his dick, his filthy words and the knowledge where you two were, all added to your building orgasm.

“Tell everyone who makes you feel that good, tell everyone who is making you wobble from soreness tomorrow. Let us show everyone the best workout you’re having.” San became erratic in his words and his thrusts, feeling how your walls clenched around his dick and chasing his own orgasm.

You screamed his name when you came, your vision turning black and then white as San continued to fuck you through your orgasm. You turned somewhat limp on top of him, feeling blissed from your high.

San pulled out of you, stuffing three of his fingers inside your throbbing hole instead. He pumped them in and out, while simultaneously rubbing your clit with the pad of his thumb. His other hand grabbed onto his dick, pumping it hurriedly until ropes of white cum shot out and painted your stomach.

You raised your head slightly, watching his cock shoot out more and more of his sticky semen. Seeing your painted stomach and lower chest as well as his fingers pumping into you, triggered a second orgasm. You arched your back, gasping out loud from the unfiltered pleasure washing through your whole body. At the same time your hands roamed over your skin, spreading his cum all over it.

“Shit”, San exhaled shakingly, “you’re so fucking beautiful.”

“Took you long enough to act on it”, you laughed softly as you turned your head and placed a kiss on his jaw. “I had hoped to have had this kind of workout last night after you stole my panties.”

San pushed his fingers deeper inside of you from the surprise, underestimating the force behind it.

“Ah, please, more.”

“You knew?” San turned his head to look at your profile, making note of every miniscule change. He noticed the sly smirk on your lips and how you only opened one eye, looking at him through a hooded lid.

“Since the moan that triggered it all.”

Taglist: @xavi-in-kpopland @songsoomin

#pirateeznet #cultofdionysusnet #kwritersworldnet #wkcnet #kvanity #ateez #ateez san #choi san #ateez fanfic #san fanfic #one shot #ateez one shot #san one shot

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tinytennisskirt · 1 month

Text

The Thrash Particle

loosely based on the song 'The Thrash Particle' by modern baseball (don't let the song deter you! It's not a mandatory listen)

summary: art has loved you forever. but even in loving you first, patrick was first to date you. you're now single and still friends with both boys, but art's feelings never really left, even when patrick's did. Art loves you and you're all he wants, but he can't have you.

warnings: drinking, yearning, some fluff, mostly angst, jealousy, tiny hint of puppy!art MWAH

Art couldn’t do it. He couldn’t watch Patrick’s game. Not when his serves used to be dedicated to you. Not when you grinned wide, perfect lips parting for perfect teeth on a perfect day. The sun was setting as Patrick continued to play. The crowd was loud and you were beside him, but he couldn’t do it. Art wondered if he could play sick and pretend he felt better for the party later.

He didn’t want to leave you there in the stands but the way you cheered for him felt like kicks to the ribs. He usually never had an issue with it, he was over it, past it, beyond it. So you dated Patrick, and that was fine, you were his, and now you were nobody’s and there were no hard feelings. They didn’t exist and maybe that was the issue. Like a ball hits a racket, impact, he remembered sitting back in his dorm at MRTA and watching you kiss him, too high to mind being the third wheel. You kissed Patrick a lot then and it was hard to forget how you did so. Art wished it was him then the same way he still wished it was him in general.

The problem became Stanford. The distance with Patrick on tour. And it ended mid-summer and apparently, it was mutual but the thing about a mutual breakup is that it didn’t crash and burn into nothing. It was still something and you were still friends and that was fine, on a normal day Art was completely fine with that. You three had always been friends. You just liked Patrick enough to date him and no matter what Art felt, he had to swallow that for the sake of his best friend. There was nothing he could have done back in high school and now you were single, there was still nothing he could do without ruining one friendship or the other.

“My mom is calling,” Art lied, speaking over the roar of the crowd. Your eyes widened and you nodded, smiling at him too. “I’ll see you back at my dorm?” You shot him a double thumbs up and Art just nodded in return, getting up and leaving, the sun setting behind him, walking toward the night. He took out his phone as if his mom calling was something real and he stuffed it right back into his pocket, sitting at the base of a nearby tree. The dusk was warm and a cool breeze blew his curls around.

He found himself fidgeting with his watch, twisting it around his wrist, thinking about you and only you. Fuck, the conflict of his feelings. The ones he used to feel so freely. Grade ten, liking you first, knowing you were perfect from the first time he saw you play, spinning in a circle when you won that game, jumping up and down, coming to find him in the stands the second you could. You’d been his friend before that moment. After that, you were everything. And it stayed that way throughout that year. You, Patrick, Art, best friends, always hanging out. Art would flirt, you flirted back but he never knew how genuine it was.

He wanted to tell you how he felt, but he didn’t want to ruin anything by doing so. So at first, he stuck it out. Shrugged it off, and lived his life knowing he wanted to date you more than anything- pay for your meals and pick you up pretty necklaces from consignment stores and go to movies and have it all. Pretended like he didn’t think about it all the time. He knew it would fuck up your relationship with Patrick if he told you- if he dated you. He would wait it out for the perfect time. But Patrick didn’t extend the same courtesy. It was you and Patrick, over the summer between eleventh and twelfth and it was the first day of school, finding out you were dating. And had been for a month. Because you worked the same goddamn summer job and got to talking more seriously. So serving ice cream between tennis matches turned into something that excluded Art. And it just about crushed him then.

It did get easier. You and Patrick had him around a lot, assuming that he didn’t mind that you were together. Hands intertwined, Patrick’s hands on your hips, telling Art about the first time you’d… It had ups and downs, he was never truly okay with it. He never truly got rid of the jealous ache in his chest, the ache he had for you, his best friend’s girlfriend. Because he had liked you first, you, young and pretty and spinning. Sparkly lip gloss and rhinestones on your jeans and knit sweaters with cats on them sometimes. The way you only drink tea from November 12th- December 31st because of something your aunt said when you were nine. How you tuck your hair behind your ears when you receive a compliment, how you fidget with your lower lip the same way he does, how you’ve never said no to coffee in all the years he’s known you. He liked you first and he watched you kiss his best friend and it did get easier, but never completely. How could it?

And when you dated it his feelings couldn’t just disappear. That wasn’t him, he couldn’t just turn that off, not when he’d felt this way for so long. So he stopped flirting for what he had control over- sometimes it would slip but you didn’t really seem to mind. And you didn’t seem to bring it up to Patrick and Art wasn’t a homewrecker, so he wouldn’t ruin anything intentionally but some part of him hoped it would end. He hated hoping for that, but what else could he do when Patrick swung around the corner while you two were watching tv and offered to grab you a cup of tea? It was all the hotel room had, but it was November 22nd. You said ‘no thank you’ with that perfect smile, fidgeting with your lower lip.

And it was a mutual ending and that was the problem. Nothing crashed and burned, it was all still very much existing in the past and you were friends, you were all still friends. And Art still fucking wanted you. It had been worse- the wanting- because you and Art were at Stanford together, and when things were boring, you were in his dorm room laying upside down on his bed talking about everything and nothing and you were close to him. Closer than you’d been allowed when you were with Patrick just for the sake of not coming off the wrong way. You were single and you were beautiful and every sentence spoken in the lamplight of his dorm room on a quiet, intimate Friday night threatened to spill his every secret. But no matter how much he continued to want you, he couldn’t have you. It was wrong to date your best friend’s ex.

Fuck. You were his every thought, all the time.

He remembered when you were both younger and you’d kissed him on the cheek. Not just a peck either, you’d mushed your face into his cheek, your hand on his other cheek for leverage just because he remembered your birthday. Out of everyone who had forgotten, he remembered and he gave you some stupid gift, a pink tennis ball and you loved it so much because it was the only thing you’d gotten. Even Patrick forgot your fifteenth. It was okay, though. Just made you appreciate him more. And then there was the first time you hugged him, really hugged him, arms around the neck when he won a game. You smelled so sweet. And then there were those casual touches he had never forgotten, too many to count, even now, your hand over his when you spoke or on his knee, or fixing his hair… It never ended. And with you around, it never would. But he wasn’t supposed to feel the way he was feeling for you. It was wrong.

Art met you back at his dorm. Patrick wasn’t there yet. You’d changed, you were in a pretty black skirt and a pale blue tank top and you looked… too good. You had clipped some of your hair up with little clips Art knew you kept from when you were a kid and you were just so beautiful it hurt to look at you.

“Okay, so I have shooters and you have vodka and Patrick has mixers.” You worked out the alcohol situation for the party. “Plus I have vodka too, but don’t tell Patrick I’m holding out on him.” You tossed Art the little vodka bottle with enough for two. It was already half-gone and Art gladly drank the rest straight. “No mixer?”

“No mixer,” he repeated. “How did the rest of Patrick’s game go?”

“Pretty boring.” You replied. “He keeps trying to pull that one trick shot and fails, so he plays it off. It was just a lot of that for the rest of the game, he looked like he was practicing.” A smile crept up your lips, teasing. “I told him in passing that I would fall in love on the spot if I ever saw that trick in real life and not just on tv and he made it his goal. Back before we were-” you coughed. “But he started trying to master it and hasn’t stopped.”

“That’s the one with the double fake-out and the back… underhand thing with the twist?”

“Yeah! That one. Whatever it’s called. He looked dumb doing it, honestly. It involved a lot of twirling to play it off.” You added. Art chuckled, tossing the bottle into the recycling from across the room. “It’s the move from that movie we watched the day we met. You and me. The stupid low-budget tennis underdog movie, you remember?”

Art laughed, remembering. He didn’t remember much about the day he met you. Not where or even when. but he remembered that movie and the fact he made friends with the girl who sat down with him to watch it on the boxy common room TV because that’s all the stupid VHS would play. Tennis movies. Apparently some MRTA alumnus had directed it. With some movie magic that move that Patrick had been trying to do was born. It probably wasn’t even possible. “I remember. That was the one with the guy whose cat choked on the tennis ball.”

“Halloween costume idea number one,” you remarked, laughing. It was stupid. Things were always stupid with Art, from the very beginning. “Jesus, the budget was low but they still managed that one shot, that one move.”

“He’s still trying.”

“He’s never going to get it.”

“You hoping that he doesn’t so you don’t have to fall in love with him?” Art asked. Mostly as a joke, but the small silence that came after was uncomfortable. It was only a few seconds. Your eyes met Art’s and you shook your head no, whatever that meant. “I’m sorry.” Even Art couldn’t escape reminding himself and you of things.

“Why? It’s funny,” your smile broke through the clouds. “I’m confident in him never getting it. So I confidently say I will, in fact, belong to the first person who pulls that move in my sight.”

“A gamble. What if it’s some old ugly guy?” Art held up his hands like the hands of a monster. Your grin was the most beautiful thing in the fucking world and it was almost heartwrenching to not be able to do something about it.

You shrugged, just as Patrick knocked on the door. “I’ll just have to be his controversially young girlfriend then. And then marry him and take his money and make my own awful tennis movie.”

Art smiled, getting the door. He let the conversation slip to something new as Patrick walked in with the mixers. Classic orange soda and for you, your favourite, cherry coke. At least Patrick remembered some things. The three of you talked about the game and you didn’t mention anything about him and his stupid attempts. There were certain things kept between the two of you that almost made up for certain other things.

Around nine, the three of you headed across and just off campus to where the party was taking place. It was a wonder how it hadn’t been shut down yet with the music audible from a street over. You were excited to go and urged the boys to pick up their pace. Art just smiled, trying to, but Patrick was still a little beat from the game earlier, so he wanted to go slow. Art kept pace with you just a few steps ahead.

“He’s wearing his shirt backward,” you whispered to Art, giggling.

Art looked behind him, laughing quietly. “Patrick?”

“Yeah?”

“Your shirt is on backward, bud,” Art chuckled. Patrick looked down and immediately started turning it around. He looked back at you, continuing to giggle. You were so beautiful in the yellow of the streetlights. Art was glad that he wasn’t a bad-decision drunk so he didn’t have to worry too much about anything, taking another swig of the vodka as they neared the house. You snatched the bottle back and copied him, tossing the bottle back to Patrick, who had fixed his shirt now.

You grabbed Art’s wrist gently, guiding him. You reached back for Patrick’s but he was a bit too far. Your hand then slid down his wrist and into his own hand. He pretended it was nothing, like his heart didn’t skip. “We’ll go around back so we don’t have to pay. One of my girl friends is dating one of the guys throwing the party so they know me. Just come with me. I promise it’s not too bad once you’re in there for a while.” Your fingers went so far as to interlock with Art’s. Art almost pulled his hand away just for the sake of Patrick, but you were only pulling him along, nothing crazy. He smiled, your hand was so soft for a tennis player. He was sure his hands were calloused… “You’re so slowww, come on, come on.” You urged both boys, Art’s hand in your own still, leading them up and around to the doorway.

You stopped at the door and you pulled Art almost into you when you did. He had to brace his hand out on the doorframe above you to keep from crashing into you. You laughed at him and he just pressed his lips into a straight line. You didn’t even let go of his hand. Seemed the pre-gaming was pretty decent. Art didn’t let go either. Patrick already pushed his way into the party. You just stood at the door, still holding Art’s hand. “I promise it’s better inside.”

Art laughed, “It’s you who won’t go inside.”

“Pretty sure it’s you.” You replied, teasing little smile. Pretty. “I’m just. Waiting.”

“For your friends?”

He didn’t get an answer. He was only met with your hand slipping out of his as your friends came and grabbed you away, your laughter absorbed by the loud music. You were out of it, it was okay. Art just went to go find Patrick, grabbing the secondary bottle of vodka back from him, taking another swig, no mixer. And Patrick cheered him on. There wasn’t anything wrong with drinking heavily at a party like this.

You were around, you passed Art a few times, asking if he was okay. You couldn’t hear his response, so you leaned in, asking him to speak a little louder. He told you was okay, noting your handle gently on his upper arm, how good you smelled in this pit of strong perfume and bad cologne mixed with the smell of weed and alcohol. You smiled and your palm grazed his cheek as you went separate ways again, you back to your friends and Art back to find Patrick.

He couldn’t tell how drunk you were. You seemed about your wits when you found Art again. You were worried about how much he had, asking Patrick how much of the bottle Art consumed but failing to find out truthfully. Art would admit he was maybe just a little bit drunk. Just a little. The lights stretched and he could feel static in his veins but he hadn’t had enough to be drunk drunk. But he was very drunk.

Art found Patrick, leaning against the wall by the stairs. He was talking to some blonde, Art was too out of it to care. “Do you get jealous watching Y/N talk to other guys?” He asked, filter off. Sober thoughts, drunk words.

Patrick, also drunk, smiled. “Do I get jealous about the guys Y/N is talking to?” He gestured to the girl he was just talking to. “No, I don’t care. Why, is he ugly?”

Art laughed, looking the other way. He didn’t see you with any guys, he only saw you with your girl friends. He wasn’t even sure what possessed him to ask the question, but Patrick didn’t care and that was the answer. “I wouldn’t know,” Art said. “Do you still think about her?”

Patrick shoved Art playfully, “Huh?”

“I’m drunk I don’t know, man,” Art pressed his hand to his head. “I mean I’ve known her forever so it’s weird all around. I think about her.”

Patrick leaned into Art, their faces close. He grinned at Art. “Yeah? What do you think about?”

“You and her.” He replied, bad grammar. He couldn’t feel much at all other than the buzz that warmed his skin in the already-hot house. “It’s weird seeing her with anyone who isn’t you. I mean, that was just a year and a half ago, right?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “I think about her in a friend way. I mean, she’s hot but I don’t want her anymore, if that’s what you’re asking.” Patrick was a little less drunk than Art.

Art groaned, “I don’t even know what I’m asking, I’m-“ he leaned against the wall but the wall was a bit further than he thought. Patrick grabbed his upper arm to save him from crashing into that very wall and the boys just laughed at how drunk Art was. The small, weird conversation would haunt Art later when he was sober. For now, it was just really funny. And Art had more to drink from a random girl who poured some of her Smirnoff right into his mouth and he got a shot from another guy with a bong. He was so far gone. So drunk. He even smoked a little weed just for fun. You passed Art again, grabbing his arm so he wouldn’t walk past without noticing.

“You are so so drunk,” you said, cupping Art’s face in your hands. He grinned wide, eyes shut, letting you. Your hands were soft and a little cold, which was refreshing. “You’re okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He replied, not even opening his eyes. Your thumb grazed over the left side of his cheek. He just hummed, which you couldn’t hear over the music. You were concerned for your friend who was usually the responsible one who drank the least just to make sure Patrick’s dumb ass got home okay. Art was a weed guy, Patrick was the alcohol guy.

You smiled, hands leaving his face, sliding down both of his arms. “Let’s get some air, okay?”

“Okay,” He replied with the will of a puppy training to be a good dog. He let you lead him to the back door and you helped him down the stairs with the help of one of the guys smoking on the back step. He was really fucking drunk. The backyard was mostly dark aside from the orangey light on the side of the house. He rubbed his eye as you helped him sit down on the swing bench at the edge of the lawn. It was pretty trippy for him to sit on a moving bench, but he was vaguely aware of your hand on his back and his shoulder.

You were sat on your knees, your feet beneath you and the way you braced him was a little bit hug-like, your one arm around him, hand running slowly up and down his back in a soothing manner. “We did not have enough with us to get this drunk,” you laughed gently. He just smiled. Even under the influence, he was a little scared to say something he’d regret when sober. “You promise you’re okay?” Your voice felt like velvet. He could feel it. It was a weird drunk superpower.

“I’m okay, just had a lottt of vodka. And other stuff.” He smiled, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t want to look at you, you were so close that if he did, your faces would be too close. “I feel great.”

“You don’t look great,” you said, tilting his head to face yours with a simple touch of your finger to the side of his jaw opposite you. He was putty in your hands, you could do whatever you wanted and he would let you. It wasn’t your intention, though he wished it was. “Is something going on? I want to know. You never drink this much and I know your mom didn’t call earlier. Your stupid ringtone didn’t go off.” You knew this might not be the time to get an intelligent answer, but it might be that. Art’s face was so close to yours he could see every detail and speck of colour in your eyes. Even in the dim.

“What was the question?” He grinned. You just laughed quietly, biting your lip. He was staring at your lips, he knew that. “I’m sorry…”

“You have had too much. Way way way too much. I think we should get you home. Or even to my dorm. My dorm is closer.”

Art tilted his head just a bit, soft smile on his lips. “I was thinking about the movie. The tennis one.”

“Art…” you hushed, your face still close to Art’s. It was no wonder you dated Patrick, you had the same habit of talking way too close to someone’s face. “What about the movie?”

“I think Patrick is gonna figure out the move.” He said, no meaning behind it. But somehow the words set up the perfect vision of the day he met you. Sitting on the floor. Only a few years ago but you were so cute then and you were so gorgeous now.

“Really?”

“Probably. With his luck.”

“His luck?”

Art just shook his head, he barely even understood himself. “Fuck, I think maybe I did drink too much.”

“Yeah?” You smiled, continuing to try and ground him a little more. You’d signaled to one of the guys to grab you a bottle of water and you handed it to Art when you received it. “Can you sit here while I go grab Patrick?” You even unscrewed the cap from the bottle for him. He nodded and you gently pat his thigh, getting up in your little skirt to go find Patrick. He was glad you weren’t there because how would drunk Art hide his stupid fucking boner?

You slipped into the house again and Art sat there thinking about you. Had he admitted to something yet? He wondered through the alcohol. Maybe he did and he just didn’t remember it already and maybe he wouldn’t remember it again. He hoped he wouldn’t. He drank the water in small sips, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees, shirt sleeves rolled up. He hated that you were off limits. He hated that he wanted you so fucking badly. He hated that in his head he could admit he was probably in love with you. How could he not be?

Patrick came outside and sat on the swing next to Art. “Y/N is saying goodbye to her friends before we go.”

“I need a babysitter,” Art chuckled, but the laugh died out. “I’m so fucked.”

“You’re drunk, that’s what. I don’t know why she’s all worked up about it, she’s drunk too.”

Patrick still didn’t understand you. Art found that a little funny. She wasn’t worked up, she was worried. And there was more to the story than Patrick could ever know. “It’s fine.” Art managed.

“How long were you out here?” Patrick asked.

“Fuck, I have no idea.”

“Just you?”

“Yeah, why?”

Patrick was quiet, but he was smiling. “Uh huh… I know you like her, Art.”

“I probably love her but it’s all fucked.” Art admit. Patrick’s smile didn’t waver one bit. He already knew it, there wasn’t any denying, he knew Art. And he knew Art loved you. It was easy to love you, your personality, the way you look. “I’m sorry, that is…”

“No, no, it’s fine. You’re a good guy and it’s hard not to love her. I mean, I never could, not really.” Patrick was also drunk, there was space to be honest. Art just shut his eyes and took another swig of water. “She’s amazing.”

“She is.”

“And you’ve loved her forever.”

“I think so,” Art replied. “Remember watching that tennis movie? The really shitty one? I watched that movie with her before you watched it with her. She watched it with me, then showed it to you.”

Patrick nodded. He knew.

And you hopped down the steps and back to the boys, asking if they were ready to go and Art was as ready as he could be. Both boys had confessed to something and now the real stuff was out of the way, you and Patrick tried to help Art walk back to your dorm. The stairs were harder than they looked. And your dorm room was small, but you let Art have the bed. He laid on his side with your trash can next to the bed in case he needed it. You made him drink another cup of water while you changed into your pajamas in the bathroom. Patrick made you a makeshift bed on the floor and you thanked him for everything, bidding him goodnight. Art was too out of it to properly say anything other than ‘goodnight, Pat’.

Patrick went back to Art’s dorm to sleep for the night. You smiled, looking at Art on top of your purple sheets. He was still laying on his side, fidgeting with his hands. He was feeling just a little less drunk, but still drunk. You put your hands on your hips and he raised his head to look over at you.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah,” he replied.

“Enough to answer my question?”

“Hm?” Art propped himself up on his elbow as you came to sit on the edge of the bed. You in your pajama shorts and your tank top, no bra. He did what he could not to look. But his focused stayed on you, perfect, concerned. He loved that you cared so much.

You kept your warm smile on, “Earlier today, the game. You just upped and left and you weren’t being called. And then, maybe I’m reading into it, but you don’t usually drink that much… I just thought maybe something was up.”

Art heard all of your words this time, noting the way your eyebrows furrowed. “No. Nothing, just two events.” He shrugged. He lied to you, which he hating doing because you were beautiful and he just never wanted to lie to you. But he had to because telling you the truth would be wrong. And would create a wreckage he wasn’t sure he would be able to clean up alone.

“Art, I love you, but I’m not stupid.” You replied. “What’s wrong?”

If he had words lined up to say, they were gone when you said what you said. He knew the context, but you did love him, regardless of platonic or not. As much as he wished it was different, it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. He looked at you and he wanted you more than anything. He was young, but he’d known his future was supposed to be you. He wondered if he belonged in yours the way he knew you belonged in his. He looked at you, met your eyes, his mouth twisting to the side. He looked at you, wondering how it was possible to need you so badly, how Patrick had you and how he never could. It was unspoken.

His heart ached. He felt it even through the buzz. His heart physically hurt looking at you. And you just looked back, your hand outstretching to take his. “Okay.” You said, smile still there. “You promise that whatever it is, it’s fine?”

The silence hung for another moment. “Yeah.” Art lied, feeling his chest squeeze just a bit. He wanted the feeling to pass again, he wanted this to be easier. He wanted you more than anything. You were all he needed, he knew there was nothing he needed more, he would give anything to be with you the way he wanted. Anything. Everything. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, I promise it’s okay. I was just worried. And I’m here if you want to talk or tell me… anything.” You grinned and Art grinned back, it was all he could do when you squeezed his hand. “I care.”

“I know.”

“Good. You should.” You said. “But you should finish your water and go to sleep. I’m scared for your hangover tomorrow.”

“Me too.” He said, his chest constricting so much he swore he couldn’t breathe. You turned out the lamp, but the purple night light in the corner cast just enough light. Art’s hand was cold without yours. You got into your makeshift bed and said goodnight to him.

The next few days Art took to himself. Said he was sick, then he said he had practice. He had a game in just a few days so he made himself busy because that night almost broke him. He needed to remember his place. He needed to remember that he couldn’t have you for a reason. Both him and Patrick forgot about their confessions, their understanding, lost to a night of drinking. You missed him, but you and Patrick understood. Saw him once that week in the cafeteria for lunch.

And then there was that game. You made plans for afterwards, just you and him because Patrick had to get back on the road half-way through the game. He apologized, patting Art on the back before the game. You rolled Art’s sleeves up, folding them over instead of letting him just push them up. “Good luck.” You said. And you smiled that winning smile.

The game began and things kicked off pretty strong for Art. He always played better when you were around, it was just how things went. He played well- kicking the other guy’s ass. He could hear you and Patrick cheering, swearing and not meaning to. It was funny. And then he let it get to him after a week of trying to cleanse himself. It was you and Patrick. You and him, it would always be you and him because he never even got the chance and it wasn’t like he could still be jealous. His chest tightened and he missed the ball. And then it happened again and again and he tried to focus on you. Gorgeous, flawed but still perfect. Kind, caring, intuitive. You with your quirks and favourites and the things he loved about you, but he couldn’t say. He tried to save the game, but it was up and down.

You watched him, not taking your eyes off the game, even when Patrick pat you on the shoulder and said goodbye. You said it, but Patrick, occupied with his phone didn’t notice that you didn’t look at him. You’d said proper goodbyes before anyways, it wasn’t a big deal. You sighed, watching him miss another ball. This was a game that would help him qualify for so much more… his backhand was off and he just seemed like he wasn’t there. There was only so much time left, so much left to play… He had only a few chances to fix this and you were on the edge of your seat over it. You cheered extra loud for him, crossing your fingers he would pull through. You missed him a lot the past week, you were excited to see him, but with everything that seemed wrong, this just went along with it. He had this game in the bag, he’d been practicing all week…

He could keep the scales balanced but he couldn’t get ahead. He was so plagued by this thought of you, the twistedness of his situation, how completely fucked over he was. You were there and you weren’t his and you couldn’t, wouldn’t be. It was fucked. It was all so fucking stupid? What did you want? Was it always Patrick? Was it ever him? Could it have ever been him?

He hit the ball back and scored another point and he just needed two more to win but two more to lose and fuck, he was stuck. The ball went back and forth, the rally having you on the edge of your seat, fully submerged in the game, wanting this win for him so badly. He worked so hard and he’d been so down lately, in his own head and he needed this. Another point was scored by Art. He just needed one more to win. The rally continued and it was increasing in intensity by the second to the degree that it was almost violent. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath at such a close game.

Art glanced over at you, alone where you sat in the crowd, no Patrick in sight. Just you in the glow of the sun. An angel, a good luck charm, someone beautiful. And the ball came flying at Art in a way he hadn’t anticipated. It was as if time slowed down. Art stuck his racket out sideways to anticipate it. He then switched angles, going at it with an upright racket. A double fake out. Time stayed slow, the ball was still in air and Art stepped backward, twisting his arm around him and itself. The racket met the ball and it was propelled with a mix of an underhand and a backhand at the same time. His body followed through with the twist and his opponent, not knowing what the fuck that was, fumbled and missed.

Everyone stood to cheer for Art, but not you. You stayed seated, looking at him in complete disbelief, eyes wide. He pulled the move. He did the move from the movie. Art just stood on the court, looking at you. His eyes said what he couldn’t. That he loved you. And you knew it. As if you were telepathic, you knew it. It’s why he practiced the whole week. He loved you and he said it through that one stupid move from that one stupid movie.

You just tilted your head and smiled. Isn't this what you wanted? And that smile of yours turned into a laugh. A gorgeous laugh that he could hear, even in the crowd. His eyes were soft and they were telling. He hadn’t intended to pull that move when he did. But you swore what you swore. In that promise you’d made, there was some truth. Words unsaid were murderous. Ruinous. You just got up and left.

taglist: @swetearss @lalalandofive @xoxog0ssipg1rl @bayleequits @reallycreativeusername @kaaaiiaaa

#challengers #art donaldson #challengers x reader #art donaldson x reader #tinytennisskirt #challengers fic #art x reader #art donaldson fic #art donaldson fluff #art donaldson angst #the thrash particle

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coff-in · 3 months

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HIIIIIIIII ITS ⭐️ ANON AGAIN I'd like to request a older sister (2-1 year older than Andrew and shes like tall asf) that has the personality of omori from the game OMORI (if you dont whos Omori/ his personality: like doesn't speak for shit and is surprisingly patient with hooligans despite his anger issues) who also likes to gardening.

Ashley would probably give her some silly ass nickname having to due with flowers. Andrew would TRY to be chill around her since he has intrusive thoughts about both girls. (I AM NOT LETTING HIM LIVE THAT DOWN)

But OLDER SISTER READER would probably only put up with Ashley's attitude/lies and no one's else's. For example later in their life when they are sacrificing their parents, Renee would try to bribe Andrew and Reader into ditching Ashley but then Reader speaks up for the first time in her life, only to say "shut the fuck up, you bitch"

Heres more info on older sister Reader:

Her gift is Altered sight, as in she sees the world differently. Like she can see if people are lying or their true intention. So that's why when Renee was talking abt ditching Ashley she said shut the fuck up because she saw her true intention (whatever it was anyways).

Her bunny color would be red

Also her weapon(s) would be her bare hands, gardening sheers, or a hacksaw

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk ⭐️

notes from coff-in: LET ANDREW DATE HIS SISTERS PLEASE!!! i've never played omori but i remember watching manlybadasshero play it during the quarantine. kinda ran out of steam at the end (it's late and i'm very tired, my apologies ⭐️ anon)

[fem] reader-insert, [reader] is older than andrew by two years, incest

mr and mrs graves loved how quiet [reader] was as a child. she didn't make any noise, didn't talk at all, and was overall easy to overlook. the perfect child! why not have another? when andy came out the cursed womb, he was the same and probably learned to keep quiet too via [reader], his big sister. what's the harm in one more child? mrs graves would then learn the harm in having another child that is NOT quiet. leyley came in and couldn't be as quiet or put away as her older siblings, but thankfully this isn't [reader]'s first rodeo in taking care of a child... she's not good at it though (which makes sense cause she's fucking four years old)

andy and leyley are still very close together, especially leyley to andy since she's closer to andy's age (and goes to school with him longer) than [reader], but they both look up to [reader] as a mother figure. leyley had trouble dealing with [reader]'s quietness/muteness but her patience for leyley makes up for all the frustration she goes through. she definitely expects [reader] to pay more attention to her because she's the baby of the family, their little baby sister. how is she supposed to know shit if no one is there to teach her? how is she supposed to feel safe if no one is watching her? damn, she fucked up breakfast again even though andy taught her how not even a day ago, thankfully [reader] is there to make it for them, right? andy doesn't mind [reader]'s quietness. he's so used to leyley's loud and impulsive nature that having someone who's quieter and more mindful is appreciated. especially since she's older, andy sees her as the perfect role model to look up to.

i doubt the apartment they lived in had a yard but they do have a balcony, so i think [reader] would grow herbs and plants that can grow in pots (like strawberries and tomato plants). andy and leyley would pick up some things from watching [reader] take care of them (though they might've killed a plant once from forgetting to water it). [reader] would try her best to teach andy and leyley about taking care of the plants, what they're used for, how to prepare them into meals, etc and it would give them (specifically andy) such an oedipus complex. having [reader] comfort them when they're mad, staying patient and calm when they get frustrated and yell at her, hugging them when they're sad, UGH just being such a good mother figure and a big sister. andy loves hugging her, feeling safe in her arms. THEY WOULD BOTH LOVE HEARING HER HUMMING WHEN SHE DOES STUFF AROUND THE HOUSE

as they grow up, they both get very protective over [reader]. she can't date other people! it's a tad bit hard to enforce that since [reader] is two-four years older and usually aren't attending the same school as them for very long. they usually try to make it as CLEAR as possible to her current partner that they do not like them. andrew is very passive aggressive towards them while ashley is just... aggressive. [reader] gets mad at them the first and second time, enough for andrew and ashley to feel a little bit bad, but eventually [reader] just stops trying to date people (or at least bring them over to the apartment). she can't be too mad at them, they're probably a little bit scared to share their big sister with a stranger...

quarantine isn't so bad to them. [reader]'s little balcony garden helps them not starve for a little bit longer than canon, but not by much. andrew and ashley are both grateful to [reader] for trying to keep them all alive, but it's not a burden that she has to shoulder on her own. seeing the cultist, killing the wardens, escaping the apartment-- all very stressful things that they help [reader] through. andrew sleeps with [reader] some nights and holds her close. maybe even snuggling closer to her chest... after all, [reader] holds some power over him, no? she's older, if she is uncomfortable with it then she can just tell him to stop. he likes being the middle child. having the power and control over ashley but being watched over and taught by [reader], having both that dominate and submissive dynamic with his sisters. would definitely call [reader] mommy after they kill their parents

i find it kinda funny that the demon gives ashley a clairvoyant trinket and [reader] altered sight but doesn't give andrew anything. poor guy. i think [reader]'s true sight would honestly alter the dynamic of the graves' sibling relationship. if she can see the true intentions of people/seeing if they're lying than surely she would be able to tell when andrew is holding himself back and repressing his affection or can see ashley's overwhelming insecurity. would she play into these feelings? anyway, andrew and their parents were shocked when [reader] actually spoke when in the basement, especially when it was against mrs graves? like omg... boss moves, you know?

"shut the fuck up."

"h-huh?"

andrew kneeling down to threaten mrs graves with his cleaver, "[reader] and i don't like it when you talk about ashley like that."

----

coff-in

#cobweb in the coffin #⭐️ anon visits the coffin #tcoaal #the coffin of andy and leyley #andrew graves #ashley graves #tcoaal x reader #the coffin of andy and leyley x reader #andrew graves x reader #ashley graves x reader

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elleluvsjurin · 2 months

Text

Toxic Baby Mama!Siyeon

Lee Siyeon x Chubby fem!reader

Synopsis: You and Siyeon broke up only a year after giving birth to your daughter, Moon. It was a mutual breakup so there were no hard feelings. Yet, she’s still obsessed with you but uses your daughter as a cover up for her obvious feelings for you!

Warnings: g!p Siyeon, toxic baby mama, smut, reader is down bad but she won’t admit it, reader has stretch marks, Siyeon is a slight lover girl, Nayeon mentioned 🦅

word count: 1.5K

Siyeon knocks at your door for the fourth time this week, wanting to see Moon. Regardless, you open the door to see her. Her shoulder disheveled hair sculpting her face perfectly. She eyes you up and down before letting herself in.

“Hello stranger. Where’s my Moonie?” She jokes and you roll your eyes at her playful persona

“She’s asleep, she should be up within an hour or two. Did you want anything to drink?” You eventually walk into your kitchen and she follows you.

“Actually I think I know what I want to drink.” She mumbles. She watches you pour some tea in a cup for yourself.

“You’re such a weirdo.” She laughs at your fake disgusted expression.

“I wasn’t a weirdo when I was fucking you the other night. I can’t get a little lovin’?” She flirts, testing the waters. Your breath gets caught in your throat before you a swig at your drink.

“Siyeon, you know how I feel when you say those things when Moon is here.” You reply.

“Hey…I’m just saying. But I’ll get something later tonight, yes?” Siyeon comes over to you and smacks your ass.

“Also what why were you posted up with Nayeon yesterday? She has something that I don’t, Y/N?” She questions

“She’s just a friend, Siyeon.” She scoffs and looks at you with an annoyed expression.

“Please don’t piss me off, Y/N. How are you going to let me fuck you one day and then the next day you’re posted up with other women. You know how I get when you’re around other women.” She mentions

“Siyeon…we’re not dating, did you forget that?”

She stays silent

“Ok.” Is all Siyeon says before walking out and leaving you alone.

One Week.

You had been texting Siyeon for one week straight without her texting you back. You hadn’t even heard from her except from the fact that she sent you money for Moon’s expenses. Until she shows up at your door.

“Siyeon. What the fuck is wrong with you? How dare you just leave me and your daughter alone because I posted a picture…a picture!” You’re angry, no, you’re fuming. What is her issue, you think to yourself.

“No. Y/N. You’re the one who’s sleeping with other women while we’re sleeping together. I’m here for Moon.” She says, nonchalantly

“What the hell are you talking about? I’m not sleeping with Nayeon-”

“Yet.” She cuts you off and grabs Moon from her highchair, on which you were feeding her on.

“Why do you have to be so immature sometimes, huh? I can’t have any friends?”

“No! You can’t!” Her voice booms, scaring Moon to the point where she starts crying. You instantly grab her to calm her down.

“Shh shh, It’s ok my love, mommy’s here.” You softly pat her head and kiss her cheek to comfort her. You eventually rock her to sleep on your chest.

“We’ll talk about this when I get back.” You mutter

You eye Siyeon before taking your child to her room. Siyeon goes to sit on your couch, poking her tongue in her cheek before you come back to her.

“Listen. Y/N. I wanted to say that I’m sorry for the mess I made. I know it was fucked up for me to assume that you are sleeping around even though we’re not dating. I also wanted to say sorry screaming and making our daughter cry, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. To be quite honest, I still have feelings for you so it pissed me off when I seen that post and I know I shouldn’t have abandoned you for a week, that was fucked up and once again, I’m sorry.” You look at her for a minute or two, thinking about all of the sorries you’ve heard that have came out of her mouth. You realize that you can’t cut contact with her because she is the mother of your child and that would be a little selfish of you so you decided to forgive her…again.

“I accept your apology but if you pull this shit again, you will not step one foot up in this house!” You exclaim to her very clearly. She comes over to you and softly pinches your cheeks before you see a smile creep up on her face.

“I understand. You just look so adorable when you’re angry, I can’t help but smile at you.” She picks you up and places you on her lap so that you’re straddling her.

“Let me show you how sorry I am-”

“Siyeon…you know how I feel about having sex while our child is here.”

“Let’s make it quick, shall we?” She starts by kissing on your neck.

“Please…” you mumble and she chuckles

“Use your words, baby.” She says up against your skin

“p-please siyeon..” your voice trembles as you feel her slender fingers go down your panties, her fingers finding your clit.

“so wet for me, hmm?” she mumbles in your ear as she slowly rubs your sensitive clit. Your body jerks at the sudden movement.

“f-fuck” you whimper

“yeah? am i making you feel good, hmm jagiya?” she taunts in your ear, her fingers rubbing in figure eight movements.

“yes, feels so good..” you groan. She moves her fingers at a fast pace on your clit and you completely fall apart.

“shit shit…shit! god im gonna cum!” you shout out

“be a good girl and give me my reward for playing with your pretty pussy. cum for me, baby.” by those words, you squirt all over her hand.

“Stand up for me, baby.” You comply and you stand in front of her, she eyes you up and down. She lifts up your dress and slowly kisses your stomach. She kisses every stretch mark on your tummy while she looks up at you.

“Siyeon…” you whisper quietly

“Yes?” She looks at you, sincerely

“Why do you act like this?” You ask, genuinely

“Because I still love you. You’re the mother of my child. I want you to be my wife. I want you to be my last everything, don’t you see that, Y/N?” She mumbles against your tummy, slowly pulling down your panties.

“Then show me. I’m sick of having you fuck me, I want you to make love to me.” Siyeon flips you onto the couch, slowly spreading your legs.

“i love this pussy, you were made for me.” She pulls down her pants and underwear, exposing her cock. She softly rubs her tip up against your slit.

“please.” you look up at her innocently. she slowly slides her cock into your tight cunt and you whimper.

“god you’re s-so cute, Y/N.” Siyeon’s voice trembles as she slowly slides in and out of your cunt. Your eyes roll to the back of your head feeling her instantly hit that certain spot inside of you.

“o-oh my god…siyeon~” you whimper

your moans giving her the encouragement that she needs, she speeds up. She pushes your legs up, near your head so she can get a better angle. Her tip hits your g-spot which each thrust and she eventually starts moaning with you.

“fuck you feel so-mmph good…so so good, all for me, jagiya.” she wraps one of her hands around your neck while she pounds into you

“god I love you..” you squeak out. Her balls slap against your ass while you try to quiet down. Siyeon grabs your face and roughly kisses your lips.

“im gonna knock you up again so that everyone will know that you’re all mine!” she grunts out, her movements slowing down

“shit…i-im gonna cum-ah!” you cum all over her cock. She shoots her load deep into your womb at the same time.

Siyeon slowly pulls out of your swollen cunt. Her seed dripping out of you has her going ballistic.

“my gorgeous girl. are you ok, i wasn’t too rough?” She asks, concerned.

“I’m perfectly fine.” She pulls you up off of the couch and straightens up your gown.

“you know, i really do love you…and I’d like to try again, with us, here soon.” Siyeon mumbles

“I know and I love you too but I think we should take things slow. Especially after what just happened without the past week.” You say, helping her put her clothes back.

“Of course, I understand.” She finally has all of her clothes on and she kisses your cheek, lovingly

You softly grab her face and stare at her.

“What?” Siyeon asks, slightly confused

“Nothing…I see Moon when I see you.” You giggle

“Really? I never noticed.” She says playfully and you lightly smack her shoulder.

She holds your waist, pressing her forehead against yours.

“You’re so cocky..” you whisper softly

“You like it though.” She smirks and kisses your lips once more.

You guys stay still for a few moments before Moon starts crying in her crib. Both of you rush to get her at the same time…

THE END

a/n: IM SO SORRY i do not know how to end a fic! But i hope you guys enjoyed this fic that has been sitting my the drafts for two weeks loll

#kpop gg #fem reader #wlw post #siyeon #dreamcatcher #gxg smut

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softtdaisy · 9 months

Text

🌲 new year kisses l mick schumacher

summary. mick has been your new year kiss for years. what happens the day he met someone new?

words count. 2,119

a/n. i honestly don't really know what to think about this one?? I really hope you will love it🫶

a very angsty Christmas l masterlist

The stars were shining, the music was loud, the people were screaming. No doubt, you were at the annual New Year’s party at your friends’ house.

It has become a tradition now. They were doing this in a rooftop apartment in Berlin, it felt out of the world and time. Maybe that was the whole point of this party, finally. To live a life you weren’t used to, act differently and do what you were scared of most of the time. It was refreshing to end the year like this. Both for you and for Mick.

Because they were his friends, first. He was the one who brought you here, right when you started becoming friends. He wanted to share this moment with you. There were still a few things beating the feeling he had when he came here every year. This feeling of putting his issues and fear at the door and just living the beautiful life he was supposed to have.

“How come I’m still amazed by this place every year?” Mick asked, taking off your coat. You turned around to answer him, telling him that you were feeling exactly the same. But you got lost in his blue eyes. In magnificent, perfect eyes that were undressing you. You may have cheated a little, wearing the silver dress you knew he loved on you, to get this exact look from him.

You went with him at the end of the season party a few weeks ago, wearing this same dress. You could never forget Mick, being completely drunk, whispering in your ear “being around you is like a little death.” And if you thought for a second that, maybe, he didn’t realize the meaning behind the expression, the wink he gave you and the way his hand fell slowly at the end of your back were enough to prove to you he knew.

You put a hand on his arm. “I told you,” you finally replied, “it’s magic.” You gave him the biggest smile, trying to save him from his thoughts. And yours, too. Coming back here was like letting your feelings come back again too. These two things seem to go together.

And while Mick took your hand to bring you inside, you chose to put all of this aside. Waiting for the moment that you knew would happen later. The one that would wreck your mind again. Like every year.

“Here comes the couple!” you heard your friends say. You rolled your eyes while Mick laughed, bringing you even closer to him. You felt his lips on your hair, the kind of kiss you were always craving for. It was easy to play around the idea of you being together. It wasn’t the case. It has never been.

When you met Mick, there was an evident chemistry and attraction between you. Everybody saw it to the point some drivers assumed you were his girlfriend the first time you went to a Grand Prix weekend.

But that was the sad part. You weren’t. Because you were both seeing different people at that time.

During the first months of your new friendship, you grow closer, dealing with your attraction for each other without doing anything that could hurt your partner. Some moments were harder than others. Mick’s arms have become your safe place and some parts of you hated that nothing could ever beat this feeling. And you knew for sure that you were the only one that could calm his anxiety.

Maybe these things were part of the reasons you both ended up single before your first friendship anniversary. The thing was, if you were close before, you were even closer now that there were no “other people”. You slept together in the same bed naturally and way too often for just friends. Nothing ever happened, except for some kisses and hugs that lasted longer than they should. But the way he was caressing your hair when your face fell naturally on his chest, the way he would whisper sweet words to your ears while you were playing with the line on his chest. These weren’t things friends should no.

You both knew it.

You were both too scared of what could happen if you decided to speak up.

It was easy as long as none of you found someone to spend their life with.

“What are you looking for?” you asked Mick. You noticed how he seemed to search for something right when you walked inside. You frowned, looking at the same place he did to understand what he could have been searching. It didn’t make sense. You just arrived.

You saw his cheek turning red before he turned his head to you. “Where we kissed last year.”

You rolled your eyes to hide your shyness. He didn’t need to remind you what happens every year here. You perfectly remember that.

It has become some kind of tradition over the years. It started at your first New Year together.

You were both newly single, ready to drink to forget and enjoy the night with your favorite friend. And you did have fun. Dancing so much you had stiffness. Singing so loud you lose your voice.

So closed you ended up kissing each other at midnight like it was the most natural thing to do.

You didn’t question it that night. The feeling of Mick’s soft lips on yours, his hands lost everywhere on your body and his smile, oh that smile, pressing against yours was so magic that you didn’t want to know if it was right or wrong. It didn’t matter as long as you appreciated the moment.

You barely ever talked about it. Just saying that it was a fun and nice thing to do and complimenting each other on your kissing competences. But it didn’t mean a thing.

Right?

And it was perfectly fine that it happened again every time. It was the only moment you could think that maybe this new year would be the one where you would finally confess your feelings and try something together.

In the end it always ended up the same: Mick got so focused on his career that he didn’t want to start a relationship and your own job prevented you from traveling as much as you would. Each time you saw each other you got closer but without ever crossing the couple line. It was an eternal circle you weren’t sure would end one day.

“Ten!”

You turned around, noticing all your friends started the countdown already. How could you not even see it was finally midnight? You put your champagne glass on the counter, watching everyone running to the living room.

“Nine!”

You laughed nicely at the couple who just left the bathroom in a hurry, clearly stopping what they were doing to be with their friends. It reminded you of your thir New Year you spent with Mick. For some reason, you managed to get locked in the bathroom together. You freaked out first, sad that you won’t be with everybody else for that moment. But then you started laughing at the situation. In the end, it wasn’t that bad that nobody could see you kiss at midnight, again this year.

It was the first time you wondered if maybe this could be more than just an ambiguous friendship.

“Eight!”

Thinking about Mick didn’t bring him to you. You looked around, confused. You can’t lose a tall blonde man like him, it’s impossible. But you couldn’t see him anywhere, not even when you joined all your friends.

“Seven! Six!”

You asked around if they saw Mick. Some of them ignored you, deliberately or not, some laughed, thinking it was some kind of joke. How would they know if you don’t? You were the one supposed to be with your best friend. So focused on your search, you didn’t notice some of their looks on you. Meaningful. Quite sad, too.

“Five!”

You had a hard time finding your way to the other room, they were all so close to each other they were like a big whole person. Maybe it was a sign from the universe that you should go further. That you should stop before the disaster.

“Four! Three!”

You finally saw Mick, on the balcony. You were wondering why he was there? Why would he be outside by himself? You walked to the door, ready to join him.

“Two!”

Before you opened the door, you saw him laugh. Then you saw her.

“One!”

You watched silently, incapable of moving, while he grabbed her face between his hands.

“Happy new year!”

Or was it, really?

Could it be a good year when it starts with the man you’re so deeply and secretly in love kissing another woman in front of you? What hurts, was that it hit so close. She looked just like you and you felt like a watcher, looking at your relationship with Mick. The way he always kissed you with his hands on your face like that so his thumbs could caress your skin, how he would always smile against your lips, how his whole body was reacting to the kiss.

Expect it wasn’t you. Not this time.

You kept watching them. Hoping that maybe you were dreaming. That it wasn’t Mick.

But the truth was there. It felt like a hole in your heart, one that kept growing each second that passed. You felt selfish. Feeling this bad when all Mick did was finding someone new. When you were too scared to confess your own feelings.

It wasn’t until your friends started to come over you, screaming and singing like you were supposed to, that you realized it wasn’t fair. Neither to you, to keep getting your heart broken because you couldn’t take your eyes out of them. Or to Mick, to expect him to wait for your strength to show up and not try to find love again until then.

“Happy new year!” you heard them and you let them take you away in their happiness, pretending you were fine. And maybe the drinks and the music helped you forget for another hour what has just happened. You just pretended everything was just fine and since you still haven’t seen Mick, you could act like it was just a lie. Maybe, in another universe, he wasn’t even there and didn’t ruin you without meaning it.

It was almost 2 when you saw Mick again. Someone had spilled their drink on you by accident and you were now looking for a sweatshirt in whoever room you were in. You heard the door opened in your back and assumed it was the bed’s owner that was just checking you weren’t making a mess. Which you could have done, since you were shaking from how you were with your wet dress.

But it wasn’t. “Honey, you’re here!”

You almost stumbled from the chair you used to have access to the top of the wardroom. Mick noticed, rushing to put his hands on your waist to catch you. “That would be a pretty bad way to start the year with broken bones.” He laughed and for a few more seconds, you put aside all that happened earlier. Just enjoying this feeling of being in his arms, again.

Then the truth hit you when you saw the lipstick marks. On his lips, on his cheek. Even on the collar of his shirt.

Mick had found someone to kiss tonight. And it wasn’t you.

“Someone had fun, I see.” you tried to sound as light-hearted as possible, not letting any sad feelings appear in your voice. But considering how drunk Mick looked, he probably wouldn’t even notice.

The huge smile that drew on his face the moment you talked about that let you know you were right. He had no idea what was going on in your head. “I have so much to tell you! She gave me her number, I’m seeing her again to see if we can make this work out somehow.” He looked so happy, almost jumping around like a kid on christmas day. You didn’t have the heart to break his happiness with your sadness.

So you put your hands on his face and give him a light kiss on the forehead. “I’m so happy for you Mick. You deserve this.” You didn’t need to find any excuse for the tears in your eyes. He started to hug you tight against him before he even got the time to see them.

This is what you get for being too scared of speaking in fear of losing the man you love.

You end up losing him anyway to another woman.

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