#gives no fucks about anything unimportant to her

[arcane-strangeness]

whats your is one thing that you feel strongly about a fandom/media you like that no one else gets?

Aloy, from the Horizon video game series (Zero Dawn, Forbidden West) is a rat, in the way that she's constantly weaseling her way into spaces she isn't supposed to be in and causing problems on purpose. whether that's clambering around the vents in the GAIA base, climbing absurdly high buildings with zero regard for safety (much to Alva's concern, in the Leviathan quest), or brute forcing her way through social interactions (so many questions, she needs to know everything always all of the time), the outcast lifestyle definitely had a lasting impact on her lmao

she is not the voice of reason among her friends, she is the voice of "i'll do it till it's done even if it kills me" much to the concern of EVERYONE around her. someone make this girl take a break because giving her one is not gonna be enough for her to take it. she fought what was essentially a god to her, fell 30-50 feet into water below, swam a decent ways away while being shot at by essentially alien laser guns, was sucked underwater by a current, bashed into several things, thrown off a cliff face in a waterfall, bashed around some more, knocked unconscious, and still tried to get up walk around and keep going a day after the fact. the only reason she seems like a somewhat rational person is because everyone else on the goddamn planet has lost their minds. i love her <3

[girlthativealwaysbeen]

you know it's bad when you hit the 30 tag limit

[candy69gurl]

Noncon w gojo but reader is resisting the whole time so he ends up tying them down. And he’s not even trying to be nice about it, he’s degrading her and choking her all that stuff 🤭

BREAKPOINT

PAIRING yandere Gojo Satoru x f!reader

WARNING non/con, unhealthy relationship (red flag Gojo), use of vulgar words, manipulation, humiliation, fingering on kitchen counter, bondage (hands only), blowjob, cumming in mouth, raw sex, breeding kink, orgasm denial, forcing to say stuffs, clit rubbing, pussy eating, nipple play, choking, degradation, lactation kink, multiple orgasms, oversensitivity, creampie, manhandling, so much yanderee

NOTE twitter link here.. sorry for posting late

Dating Gojo, the incredibly good-looking and powerful guy, isn't as simple as you'd think. He frequently reminds you of your perceived inferiority compared to him, and that he could find someone better.

Every time you're with him, he's makes you feel insecure. He keeps putting you down for your mistakes and flaws, always reminding you of all the things he can do that you can only dream about. He often says mean things about how you look and what you can do, making you feel like you're not good enough for him. Even though he's rude and acts like he doesn't care, Gojo still wants you around, making sure you know he's more important in your life.

He's always flirting with other people, which makes it clear he doesn't respect you. When he's with his friends, he completely ignores you, leaving you feeling invisible and unimportant. Your feelings never seem to be a priority for him. It's clear he's more focused on other things, yet he still wants you to stay. You're beginning to realize this relationship isn't healthy for you, but you still crave his approval and validation, hoping he'll see you as worthy.

Your best friend advises, 'You should leave him, girl.'"

"But I love him," you counter.

"But does he love you?"

You stay quiet. Gojo's words may say one thing, but his actions speak differently. Your best friend is right; you realize you need to do something about it. So you send him a text asking to meet at your place, you need to talk to him over this.

Satoru arrives at your house, his long legs carrying him up to the door with an air of confidence. Knowing he's the strongest sorcerer in the world makes him feel untouchable. As he knocks on the door, a thrill of excitement courses through him, anticipating what awaits inside. The familiar scent of your perfume greets him as you open the door, and he smirks, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

He takes off his dark blue jacket, tossing it carelessly onto a nearby chair. His gaze lingers on you for a moment, taking in your appearance before he speaks in a low voice, ... "Been missing my dick, huh?"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" you snap, glaring at him. He smirks, stepping closer to you, his body heat enveloping you as he looms over you.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" Satoru repeats, a hint of amusement in his voice. He raises an eyebrow, letting the question hang between them, challenging you to elaborate. When he doesn't get an immediate response, he crosses his arms, sitting on your couch and regarding you with a cocky grin.

"So, why the fuck did you call me if you're gonna give me this attitude? " he asks, feigning ignorance. His eyes gleam mischievously, daring you to confront him about your issues head-on.

You stand there, silent for a moment, searching for the words to express your frustration. Before you can say anything, Satoru turns away, sauntering towards your kitchen like he owns the place. He opens the fridge, pulling out a beer and cracking it open with a satisfying sound. Your heart pounds in your chest, your frustration mounting as he drinks it so casually.

As he turns back to you, he raises an eyebrow, the unopened beer in his hand. "You gonna talk, or are you just gonna stand there?" he asks.

"This...this relationship isn't working," you finally manage to utter, your voice wavering slightly. Satoru freezes mid-drink, the beer halfway to his lips. The surprise in his eyes fades quickly, replaced with a cold, hard stare. He sets the beer down on the counter, taking a step towards you.

"Break up?" He repeats, the word hanging in the air like a challenge. "You think you can just toss me aside like an old toy?" He growls, his eyes burning with anger. The force of his personality filled the room, making it hard to breathe. Satoru leans in, his face inches from yours, his blue eyes burning with a fire that matched his temper.

"You better think twice about this, princess," He snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "Once you break things off with me, you'll be all alone. No one is going to love you."

"I'm sure," you say firmly, standing your ground despite the fear in your chest. Satoru's eyes narrow, a dangerous glint flickering in their depths. He steps back, a sardonic smile playing on his lips.

"Did you find someone better than me?" He asks, his voice dripping with disbelief and accusation. The air around you thickens, the tension palpable. Satoru crosses his arms, leaning against the counter, his expression a mix of amusement and contempt. "Tell me... Is his dick bigger than mine?"

You shake your head, your voice trembling as you reply, "No, I just..." Satoru cuts you off, gripping your wrist harshly and pulling you towards the counter. You gasp in surprise, trying to pull away, but his grip is too strong.

He pushes you down on the counter, his dick pressing against your ass, the intensity of the contact leaving you breathless. His eyes bore into yours, the challenge in them undeniable. "Does he fuck you better than me?" he growls, his lips grazing your ear.

You struggle against him, your heart racing as you beg him to let you go. "Please, Satoru...let me go!" You plead, your voice shaking with fear and desperation. Satoru chuckles, his grip tightening around your wrist.

"Not until you realise, what a huge mistake you did by making me mad." he growls, grinding his erection against your ass harder. His eyes bore into yours, daring you to defy him.

Satoru pulls down your pants, revealing your ass. He smacks it hard, the sting of his hand making you yelp in shock. Before you can react, he slides his long, cold fingers inside you, groaning softly at the wetness he finds. His eyes gleam with satisfaction as he mocks you, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Well, well, looks like someone wants more of my cock even after saying she wants a break." He chuckles, twisting his fingers inside you roughly. His eyes are full of malicious.

You can't help but moan in spite of yourself, your body betraying your intentions. Your mind screams at you to fight back, but your body responds to his touch, betraying your resolve. Satoru's grin widens, his eyes gleaming with triumph.

"Looks like you can't resist me, princess," he taunts, thrusting his fingers deeper inside you. "Maybe you don't want a break, maybe you just want me to praise you while I go down on you."

Satoru grips your head tighter against the counter, his fingers thrusting into you relentlessly. Your body buckles under the onslaught, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. You moan loudly, unable to hold back your pleasure.

Within moments, you're screaming his name, your body convulsing as you cum hard. Satoru watches you with a satisfied smirk, his thumb rubbing your clit in time with his fingers. He continues to thrust into you, milking every last drop of your pleasure.

Satoru carries you mercilessly to your bedroom, leaving you with no time to rest. He quickly sets you down on the bed and his hands rich to unzip his pants. Desperate to get away, you try to crawl away, but he grabs your ankle and uses his weight to pin you down. With a flick of his wrist, he removes his blindfold, revealing his piercing blue eyes. Your heart races, fear and desire warring within you as he takes his blindfold and ties your hands above your head, effectively immobilizing you.

"Please, stop!" you plead, tears streaming down your face as you beg him to release you. "I'm sorry, I take back everything I said! I don't want this!" Your words hang in the air, heavy with regret and fear.

Satoru leans down, his gaze hard and unwavering. "The only sorry I accept is by your mouth showing me how sorry it is by sucking me off." He growls, his finger tracing the shape of your lips. Your heart races and your body trembles at the command.

He pulls himself in front of your head, and you hesitate, your heart racing in your chest. The room spins around you, and the scent of him overwhelms you. You understand you have no choice but to obey, swallow your pride, and submit.

Taking a deep breath, you wrap your lips around his shaft and reluctantly start sucking him off. Satoru growls in approval, his hand entwined in your hair, guiding you. Your mind screams at you to resist, but your body obeys him, your mouth moving rhythmically, pleasing him.

As you continue to suck him off, Satoru's grip in your hair tightens. His movements become more erratic, his breaths growing heavier. Your heart races, a mixture of fear and arousal coursing through you. You're determined to make this quick, hoping he'll release you soon.

You rest your head, waiting for him to untie you. But instead, he parts your legs, grinning wickedly as he rubs his cock against your clit. You flinch, but he doesn't hesitate. With a swift movement, he pushes into you, stretching you painfully. A cry escapes your lips, tears streaming down your face. You beg him, your voice trembling with fear and desperation. "Please, be gentle..."

Gojo grins, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Well, well, I thought you'd be fucking other guys, but you're still tight as hell." He says, thrusting harder into you. "Feels so fucking good." His voice is thick with lust, his movements becoming more aggressive.

Your body tenses, your mind spinning in the turmoil of conflicting emotions. You're angry, yet you can't deny the pleasure he brings you. His words fill you with shame, your skin burning with embarrassment. Despite your struggles, his grip on you is ironclad. You moan, a mixture of pain and pleasure washing over you as he continues to thrust into you. Your mind screams for him to stop, but your body betrays you, responding to his touch.

Every thrust is a reminder of your weakness, your inability to resist him. You can't help but wonder who else he's been with, who else has shared in this intimacy. A wave of jealousy washes over you, your heart beating wildly.

"Fuck, you're gushing," he growls, his hips thrusting into you with increasing intensity. He reaches down, pushing your top along with bra up, his fingers roughly pinching your nipple, twisting it. Your eyes widen, a gasp escaping your lips. "Yet you say you don't want it?" He grunts, his voice thick with dominance.

You can't help but moan, your body betraying your anger. His words echo in your mind, reminding you of your place. Despite your struggling, your body responds to his touch, your clit throbbing with each thrust.

Gojo mocks you, his voice dripping with venom. "What's that, are you enjoying it, slut?" He asks, his movements becoming more frenzied. "You think you can find someone better than me? Someone who fucks you better than me?"

His words cut deep, your heart racing with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. You can't help but moan, your body betraying your anger. He laughs, his eyes gleaming with malice.

"Look at you, begging for my cock, you worthless slut." Gojo sneers, his movements growing rougher. "I'm the strongest sorcerer in the world, and you think you can insult me? Ha!" He laughs, his eyes shining with malicious delight. "Listen up", he slows down his thrust making sure you listen to him instead of moaning, "Don't you dare bring that break up again, I own you, I own this pussy, I own your fucking heart, I know it, you love my baby and I love you too.. So let's.. let's be like before, me and you, together.. We can have a baby too, our own family .. so beautiful.", with that he starts pumping into you again hard and fast, desperate to fill you with his fertile seed.

Your cheeks burn with shame, your toes curling as his thrusts grow stronger and rougher, and just before you hit your orgasm, he pulls out, "That's what you get for disobeying me."

You gasp, your pussy gripping on to him as he pulls out. "That's what you get for disobeying me," he growls, his eyes blazing with anger. You feel a wave of disappointment wash over you, your orgasm cut short.

He stands over you, his chest heaving, his gaze locked on your face. You shrink under his gaze not daring to question him why he stopped, you know everything is your fault. NO, he made you believe everything is your fault, but you cannot help but accept it, you cannot help but accept his cock inside you.

Gojo leans down, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight. "Look at you, clenching around nothing, desperate for my cock." He mocks, his hands gripping your thighs. "Worthless slut."

He licks your clit, a cruel smirk on his face. You whimper, your body trembling with need. His tongue teases your clit, your moans growing louder. He chuckles, enjoying your helplessness.

Gojo's hand glides over your body, his touch electric. "Do you want me to finish you off?" His voice is a combination of cruelty and seduction.

Your heart races, your body trembling with need. You nod, unable to speak, your mind filled with a mix of shame and lust. He grins, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

Gojo raises an eyebrow, his gaze locked on your face. "Beg for it, slut." He demands, his voice thick with lust.

You hesitate, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. He slaps your pussy, making you jolt. "Beg," he repeats, his voice cold.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding, "please, make me cum..." You whisper, your voice barely audible.

Gojo's eyes squint, "Hmm, how about you say you love me 69 times then I will think of it."

Your eyes widen, your heart racing with a mix of anger and desperation. You know you have to do it. "I love you," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "I love you... I love you... I love Satoru..." Your voice grows stronger as you continue, each 'I love you' more genuine than the last.

Gojo watches you, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He leans down, his tongue darting out to trace the curve of your clit. "Keep going.." He orders, his voice rough with desire

You nod, your face heating up with desire and shame. "I love you... I love you... I love Satoru..." You repeat, your voice growing stronger with each word.

Gojo's tongue traces your clit, his movements slow and deliberate. You moan, your body trembling with need. He smiles, his eyes locked on your face. "Good girl," he growls, his voice thick with lust.

He slips two fingers inside you, his movements slow and deliberate. "Keep going..."

Your heart races, your body trembling, "I love you... I love you... I love Satoru..." You repeat, your voice growing stronger with each word.

Gojo's fingers slide inside you, his movements slow and deliberate. You moan, your body shaking with need. He smiles, his eyes locked on your face. "Yes.. yes" He encourages, his voice rough with desire.

You continue to profess your love, your body trembling with a mix of desire and shame.

After what feels like an eternity, Gojo slides his fingers out, replacing them with his tongue. You whimper, your body trembling with anticipation.

He licks your clit, his tongue tracing the curve of your most sensitive spot. "Good girl," he praises you, his voice thick with lust. "Sixty-nine times, I counted each 'I love you.'" He chuckles, his eyes locked on your face. "That's a lot of love for me, baby," he teases, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Now, let's make you cum."

His tongue traces the your walls, his movements slow and deliberate. His eyes locked on your face for your reaction. "You taste so good, so wet and needy."

Your abdomen shaking as you move your hips against his face, you cry out, your body trembling with pleasure as you cum. You collapse there, your heart pounding with a mix of ecstasy and shame.

"Untie me now," you plead, your voice shaking with emotion. But Gojo shakes his head, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction, "Nah uh, not till I cum, filling your little pussy."

He inserts himself back inside you, his movements slow and deliberate. Your pussy is oversensitive, making you cry out in pain. "No more," you beg, your voice filled with desperation.

Gojo grits his teeth, his eyes squeezing shut as he feels your walls clenching around him uncontrollably. He slows his pace, allowing you time to adjust to your oversensitivity.

As you recover, he starts thrusting into you, his movements slow and deliberate at first. His pace gradually increases, his eyes locked on your face. "You like being a slut for your boyfriend, isn't it?" He growls, his voice thick with lust.

You moan, your body trembling with a mix of pleasure and pain. "Yes," you admit, not caring about your self respect anymore.

As he thrusts into you, his movements become faster, his eyes locked on your face. "Good girl," he growls, his voice thick with lust. "You're such a good little whore, aren't you?"

You moan, your body trembling with a mix of pleasure and pain. "Yes," you admit, not caring about your self-respect anymore. "I'm your little slut."

Gojo chuckles, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Hmphh, keep squeezing me.. A-ah," he growls, his pace increasing even more.

Your eyes roll at the way he's choking and fucking you like a monster, his hands around your neck, his thrusts relentless. Gojo leans down, his lips colliding with yours in a rough kiss.

You moan into his mouth, your body trembling with a mix of pleasure and fear. He pulls back, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Hah! You gonna cum again?," he mocks.

You groan, your body trembling with a mix of pleasure and fear. "Yes.. Hngh- please I am gonna cum again" You admit, your voice shaking with emotion.

As he thrusts into you, his movements become frenzied. "Y/N, let's... try it again.. together... Can't you imagine? How lovely you will look with your tummy swollen and round with my baby, and milk flowing from your breasts. Just think of it", he bites his lips imaging all of that. He unties your hands, letting them grip onto anything they find.

Your mind is unable to make out his words, you just nod, taking his cock like a doll.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your skin as he sucks on your nipple. "Gonna fill you, hmmph," whimpers escape his lips, "You are so obedient for me baby."

As Gojo nears his climax, his thrusts become frantic, his movements fierce. You cry out, your body trembling with pleasure and pain.

His thrusts become stronger, his movements more intense. Your walls clench around him, milking him as you cum again. He roars, his eyes locked on your face. "Yes, cum for me, baby, cum for your strongest boyfriend," he growls, his voice thick with lust.

He fills you with his seed, his movements slowing as he finishes. "You did well, baby," he pants, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He loosens his grip on your neck, allowing you to breathe.

You collapse against him, your heart racing with a mix of pleasure and fear. "F' me, am your little.. slut.. ." You whisper, before passing out .

Gojo's lips caress your bruised neck, licking them before giving you a small peck on your lips. "I love you, Y/N, I appreciate you," he mutters, his voice thick with lust. "But I ain't gonna spoil you."

He wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Both of you fall asleep in each other's arms, exhausted from the passionate night.

In the darkness of the night, he whispers in your ear, "Never gonna let you escape me, my little play thing."

[disaster-j]

To be extremely clear, Gerard is NOT the hero. He did not save the 118 or the Wilson family.

He wasn't the villain either.

He was a pawn, an annoyance Ortiz placed at the 118 bc she knew he would get in Hen's way and create a nuisance for the firefighters at the station.

The reason Gerard didn't really do anything besides be fucking annoying is bc he's not the same Gerard from 15-20 years ago. He's old and unimportant and his opinions and behaviours simply aren't easy to publicly support even for people who still believe them. He doesn't have the power or backing that he used to.

So. He isn't a villain. He's just a washout who was plucked moments away from fading out of relevance and plopped into a position to be a hindrance to people who originally dethroned him from his imagined kingdom by the real villain.

On the other hand, he isn't a hero.

He didn't swoop in and decide to save the 118. It wasn't even his idea to record Ortiz.

He's a pawn with no king. He was Ortiz's pawn not because he held any loyalty or respect for her, but bc she was a powerful figure willing to give him back a taste of that lost sense of power. But he only ever cares about himself and is the type to happily switch sides for a price.

Bobby understood that. He understood that Gerard is the kind of man with no loyalty or purpose, just a false sense of grandeur and a need to be the centre of attention. The perfect Trojan Horse.

It was Bobby's plan to manipulate Gerard into wanting to humiliate Ortiz the way Bobby made Gerard think she was humiliating him. It was his plan to use the body cams against her to expose her and take her power away.

Bobby is the hero.

Gerard was his pawn.

Bobby saved the 118. Capisce?

[pers1st]

she's got a way (she got away)

inspired by chappel roan's the subway!

pairing: alexia putellas x reader

summary: after the World Cup, your mind is set on leaving Spain - Alexia doesn't expect you to leave her too

It was clear, from the moment the Euros ended for the Spanish national team, that this situation would, at one point, escalate. You had been sure of it, despite the fact that all throughout the tournament, you hadn't been able to focus on anything but your girlfriend's recovery. Her knee was in pain, and so was her heart, and you were in England, unable to help due to the strict rules Jorge had set up.

Along with Irene, Mapi and Jenni, you were one of the most experienced, as well as one of the most vocal players. Your manager was slowly losing the team - it was evident that no one would really listen to a thing he said anymore, and he needed you to keep them in check. At least that was your theory as to why he appeared in your room almost every night, asking you the most absurd questions, and calming his mind with the thought of you keeping his back.

You didn't, though. It was merely the worry clouding your head that had you unable to speak your critiques, as you had done before. Jorge didn't need to know the reason, though - you were quiet, that was all he needed for now.

Alexia welcomed you back to Barcelona with open arms, though she noticed the bags under your eyes and the residue of salt on your cheeks. It was hard to miss - the fact that you were completely and utterly done. You were done.

You wouldn't go back to the Spanish National team. Not like this, and not without Alexia.

Your girlfriend was your biggest rock, and despite the fact that she was undergoing her own struggle, or perhaps that was the exact reason why, the two of you leaned onto each other more than ever. Set under pressure by the RFEF, the only way for you to escape was to lean your head on your lovers shoulders and close your eyes. Alexia didn't need to hear. She knew what was going on, without you ever speaking it out loud, and just before the World Cup, she started fighting hard for the federation to make up for their mistakes, and finally give their players a bit of fucking attention.

Still, she had to beg you. Had to beg you to come back, promising she wouldn't leave your side, promising things would be different, better. And they were, for a little bit.

The moment you allowed yourself to believe that your voices had been heard was a fleeting one. The referee blew her whistle, the English players fell to the ground in disappointment, and Alexia sprinted towards you full charge.

A moment later, when you were lifted into the air, and touched in places that left your skin burning, it was gone again. That little faith, the tiny bit of hope. It was gone. And a part of you was, too.

You had your medal. You had your picture with the trophy, you had a week of alcohol.

But still, the World Cup was tainted, and the horrifying response by not only the Spanish federation but also the Spanish press, and people, they made everything else unimportant.

You had been holding off on extending your contract. You had told the club you weren't sure yet-

You had been sure. Before the World Cup, the whole discussions and meetings had been merely a strategy to have a little more compensation for the work you did - it had been your agent's idea, but you had agreed either way.

Now, you weren't sure.

Spain felt different, in a way. You didn't believe that the country wanted you anymore, partly because you had been very vocal about what had happened, partly because the RFEF had told you so. Despite Rubiales' resign, they wanted an apology, a public one, for the comments and statements you had published. Otherwise, they didn't want you anymore.

That fateful email slipped further down with every new email you received, and by the time you told Alexia about their threats, the transfer window was almost closed.

It was rainy, that night. It never really rained in Spain that often, especially not in September. Your girlfriend had hoped the two of you could sit on your balcony and enjoy a glass of wine, for once. But it rained and you sat on the couch and before Alexia could place her drink on the sofa, something within you broke.

You didn't want to leave - you wanted Spain, wanted Barcelona, wanted Alexia.

Tears fell from your eyes so quickly Alexia didn't know what to do, almost spilling her beverage all over the couch in order to get to you.

"Amor, what's wrong?", she asked, over and over again, until all she could do was wrap her arms around you and hold your shaking frame until you calmed down enough to say something. Anything. She really just wanted to hear your voice.

"I think I have to leave", you breathed, finally, just when Alexia had believed you to be asleep.

Silence remained in your shared apartment.

And it seemed even more present when your last things had been moved to Manchester, and you were gone for good.

Your voice still sounded through the hallways, usually as the of two of you cooked dinner, separated by the ocean and phones on the counter, loud speaker enabled. You had vowed to each other to speak regularly, FaceTime if possible, and make visits as often as possible.

Alexia couldn't get used to it, though. It was quiet.

However, the changing room was louder than ever. With every week that you played in the color blue, the girls had something new to talk about. Alexia couldn't participate, because as much as she wanted to, it only reminded her that another week without a phone call had passed. You had said you were tired, yesterday, and you had said so the day before as well.

Moving was big. Especially if it was to another country. Alexia believed that you were tired, she really did.

"She scored another, on Sunday. Did you see?", Mapi pointed around the room animatedly, laughing along as Pina enacted the way you had put your entire force behind the shot, almost falling over her own legs as Cata leapt to the side, pretending to miss a shot.

"It was so good! She is shining!"

Unsatisfied with the acting performance of her own team, Alexia decided she needed to see for herself. Barcelona was playing this Friday, and since your game was on a Sunday, she would have enough time to fly over to Manchester with Jana and watch you and Jill in person.

It was a surprise, and she could see in your eyes as you gazed through the family section, that you genuinely were surprised. Leia was standing next to you, arm across your shoulder, finding her own friends in the crowd shortly before warm up would begin.

You radiated, waving to Leia's parents, shortly before your eyes caught those of your lover. Though you hadn't seen them in a while, you recognized them instantly, and your smile dropped for a split second, before it grew even wider. Waving your hands through the air, the stadium seemed smaller, all of a sudden. Alexia felt a rush of warmth throughout her body. Then, you turned around, focussing back on the task ahead, the way you always could.

Alexia could see it, then. You were happier than you had been for a while. She knew the weight that had pulled you down over the past year, and despite the fact that she was genuinely relieved to see you get on so well, it also inflicted a pang of something else.

Was it jealousy? Was it fear?

Jealousy that Manchester gave you something Alexia never could?

Fear that you would come to the same conclusion?

Alexia couldn't tell, but she could tell, as the stadium roared with each of the goals you scored, that you were happy. Jumping into the air to celebrate a goal you merely would've smiled for in Barcelona, all of your teammates crowding you happily, tapping your head and laughing along as you jogged back into position - you were different.

You had changed, silently, right in front of Alexia's eyes. She knew it was for the better.

A brief talk after the game followed, an excited kiss over the barrier, an apology as you rushed to the changing room to get changed, promising to meet her in the lounge after.

Then came the reassurance.

No, it's fine, I don't have to go for drinks with the others.

No, really, I want to have a nice evening with you before you have to leave again.

Of course I want to know how things are in Spain.

The word left your lips as though it sliced your tongue in the process, and despite the fact that you watched Alexia's brow furrow for the split of a second, the both of you never mentioned it again. The conversation dulled out, and despite the fact that Alexia was going to meet Jana at the airport hours later, she slowly began gathering her things.

You didn't stop her.

You brought her to the airport, and she promised Jana was on her way already. You wouldn't need to wait with her.

The previous goodbye had been different. There had been tears cascading down the both of your faces, whereas this time, there was merely a little glimmer of wet in Alexia's lashes.

There had been promises and plans, when you had left Barcelona. Plans to visit, promises to call, to make this work.

Now, you didn't even know when you would come back to Spain. If you would come back to Spain.

Your Catalan was rusty already, a hint of an accent coming through, that shocked Alexia at first.

She knew it was for the better, though. You weren't sad to watch Alexia leave, and Alexia would learn to live with that. It took two hours until Jana came. By the time the two walked towards their gate, Alexia's tears had dried. By the time the plane touched down in Barcelona, your lover had made up her mind to call you later. By the time she got to training later, she could only answer Mapi's question -

How is she doing?

With a wet "She got away."

Mapi didn't even question her best friend's answer, didn't furrow her brows at the prospect of her two best friends' breaking up, she merely offered a bitter smile.

Good for her, Mapi thought, too scared to voice her words out loud for the fear of hurting Alexia. Unbeknownst to her, your ex girlfriend thought the same exact thing.

[tadc-harlequin-au]

Harlequin AU - "Stalemate" (canon, fic)

This is a wip art! It will be updated in the future.

══════☸☸☸════════════☸☸☸══════

One step.

Leather shoes made their way on uneven grounds.

The crinkling of glass underneath the soles made their way prominent to the stepper’s ears, but she couldn’t care less.

This was the last known location of the man she’d been tracking for a while now. And this is the moment of truth. Did she still got it? Or will she fall as a trophy on a mantle?

Time to find out.

Squeaks of a rusty metal gate aired out into the open, gathering the attention of a few unwanted pests. But in quick succession, they were no more, swiftly falling prey to the sharp blade of the Puppet. There was not even a chance for them to strike.

Satisfied with her work, she straddles into the grounds of the mansion. First, the gardens.

One could say it was a serene scene, but for her it was a mere distraction. Unimportant. Simply delaying the inevitable.

She steps out into the lush open grass of the area. A huge empty space filled with nothing but prickly green underneath the blue hues of the night. She found amusement in the fact that there’s a chance she can ruin this place once she meets her opponent.

A lone, mossy fountain sat on the front. Not interesting.

She makes her way onto the stairs of the mansion entrance. Each step fills her with more vigor, excitement coursing through her being. The giant, elegant oak door groaned in protest as she pushed it open.

Empty.

No matter, there were many rooms.

She quickly hears the puttering sound of rotor blades spinning, and she looks to her right, finding a mini-blimp with a literal sharp smile, and a vacant expression on it’s glossy eyes.

“Hellloooooo,” it said, dragging the last syllable playfully, “Can I help you with anything?” The blimp asked with not a care in the world.

“I’m looking for someone.” The Puppet claims, pulling out a parchment of a wanted poster. It was useless to waste her energy on this… creature. So she will entertain it’s questions for now.

“Oh! You’re looking for the boss! I’ll lead you to him!” The blimp confirms her suspicions.

He was in this place, and she’d successfully tracked her target down. Now all that was needed was proof of her soon-to-be victory. It was only by a few rooms that she’d found him.

But the sight wasn’t as grand as she envisioned.

She expected a confident, prideful, and powerful fighter….

NOT whatever this mess who’s currently laying on the ground and leaning deactivated against an office desk was. WHAT THE FUCK.

Did she seriously come all this way for nothing?! She felt a little furious, and she redirected her burning gaze onto the blimp, grasping tightly onto the sword and pointing it’s sharp end with malice. The Blimp did not seem to react at her wordless threat at all, still flashing a sharp smile as it slowly turned to face her.

“EXPLAIN.” She demanded. “HE CAN’T BE ALREADY DEACTIVATED.”

“Oh, this is just something that happens allllll the time. Give him a little time.” The Blimp answered, and turned it’s attention back to 'the boss'. She kicked a leg, no response.

“Let me try!” The Blimp says, and with a clearing of it’s throat, it shouts. “BOSS! Someone’s here to see you!”

And in an instant, the exposed chest of the man lit up in two separate hues, and he sits up straight as if plunged underwater for long.

“GAH! WHA- WHO IS IT!” He yelps in surprise, holding a glass bottle by it’s neck as if ready to throw. His shocked gaze soon falls on…. To the Harlequin, who unveils her tattered covers protecting her from outside elements, and reveals her face.

“Puppetmaster. I’ve come to challenge you.”

He blinks a couple of times with wide eyes, and his stare keeps shifting from the blimp, to her, and then repeat. After a while, his gaze falters and an unimpressed groan escapes the strange Puppet across from her. “Not again…” He mutters under his breath. "Bubble, what did I tell you about letting people you don't know in?"

...Not again?

“Wh- What do you mean “not again”- This is the FIRST time I’ve come here!” She replied, and the Puppetmaster only crosses his arms as soon as he manages to get up on two feet.

“And it certainly won’t be the LAST, I see.” He shuffles away, the metal cane tapping to the marble ground with each step he took, and the Harlequin is left utterly confused. She grumpily follows him to the main lounge, ready to demand once more.

“Are you fucking deaf or what? I said I’ve come to challenge you!”

“Not interested.” He feels around in a bookshelf, pulling out a rather large tome. He opens it and retrieves a bottle full of liquid.

He was really testing her patience, huh?

As soon as he turns around, The Harlequin makes quick work of slicing the bottle in half just to show how serious she is. The glass quickly detaches, and the liquid spills onto the floor, leaving the Puppetmaster with an unamused, disappointed stare.

“.... That was the last of it’s kind, by the way. You just killed off one of my favorite drinks” He replies with a hint of unserious humor, and it makes her teeth grit in frustration.

“I AM NOT LEAVING THIS PLACE UNTIL I GET WHAT I FUCKING CAME FOR!” She angrily responds. “So you either stop with your shit and fight me, OR ELSE.” She points the sword straight at his core, and the pair of dentures simply rolls his eye to the side, and pushes the blade away.

“Hmm. You know, for a moment, I really thought you were different.” He drops to the floor and detaches a tile after tapping at a seemingly hollow tile with the cane, revealing yet another hidden compartment full of unknown bottles. He sticks his tongue out a little as he reaches for them, but as soon as one was retrieved, The Harlequin repeats the same action as before, as well as shattering the other bottles within.

He blinks once, then twice. “Can you stop wasting the only thing that’s keeping me from jumping off of the deep end, pretty please?” He pleads, but it’s completely devoid of sincerity.

She growls, and grabs his collar. He is slightly surprised, but quickly goes back to his uncaring attitude while staring at her grip. “Umm… Normally I would not mind the touch, but you’re wrinkling my shirt.” His carefree attitude was picking at her nerves, and she bares her sharp teeth at him. His eyes widen a little, but it’s clearly not from fear.

He shakes it off, and squints at her humorlessly, unfazed by the threat.

“I am not repeating myself again, Puppetmaster. FIGHT. ME.” There’s a surprising yet subtle hint of desperation in her tone, but it was heavily masked by her aggressive tone and he finds himself disgruntled at his own thoughts.

He sighs.

“I don’t see a point in accepting that offer from a rookie like you, who doesn’t seem to know what fights they wanna pick… But fine.” He relents, “I’ll entertain you a little. I’d rather not cause more mess than usual for my little helper, though. All I ask is that we pick a different location.”

She was a little insulted at the term he had called her. But she swallowed her pride down in favor of the fact that he was finally agreeing to the duel. “Very well then.” She lets go of the collar. “I’m fine with any location of your choosing.”

“Much appreciated, dear. I know an abandoned circus arena that is ideal for this.” He taps his cane to the ground, in contemplation.

“In fact… I think you might like it as much as I do.”

══════☸☸☸════════════☸☸☸══════

It wasn’t the walk towards this “arena” that was agonizing.

But rather the wait she had to comply with if she wanted his participation. Nonetheless, he parts the curtains that cover the entrance, but she only crosses her arms and taps her foot. She was antsy, and his stare was questioning.

“You… won’t go first?”

“Why would I? You’re leading the way.” She replies in clear annoyance.

His gaze shifts to the entrance, trying not to be bothered about this as he makes his way inside. As soon as the Harlequin makes her way inside, spotlights let out a loud click as they all simultaneously turn on, all shining at the sand-filled arena slightly damaged by time… or something else entirely.

There’s a little prickling feeling that settles in her chest, and she can sense her core thrum in dissonance. But she doesn’t understand it, so naturally, she shrugs it off as if it never existed.

The Puppetmaster has had his back turned against her all this time. His head hung low, as if staring into the very ground. But she simply clutches at her sword with her left arm, the grip making a loud metallic clunk. He taps his cane to the ground, and it echoes throughout the tent despite the consistency of the very plane they stand on.

“Are you ready?” His voice, despite them being meters apart, is loud, bold and clear.

She grips her sword harder, unsheathing a little. Her right feet drags across the ground, an obvious stance of preparation before the action.

His eyes are hidden, depriving her of reading his full intent once he turns to face his opponent. Nonetheless, she squints, wordlessly giving him her answer.

The cane taps onto the ground yet again, and she rushes like a cobra. There’s a faint hum of voices in the background but she can’t decipher it.

Distractions.

That was all it is.

And a fighter does NOT get distracted.

She unsheathes the sword fully, ready to lunge as soon as she was close enough. A battle cry escapes her as she swings at the sudden cloud of dust that appeared in front of her.

“Slow.”

He easily avoids the swing, and she barely has a second to react at the speed of his movements, finding herself stumbling. Utterly confused, she quickly turns around to face where he had gone. He was now in the middle of the arena, side-eyeing her with interest that she interprets as complete mockery. 

She clutches the sword with both hands and another battle scream erupts from her. He grips at his cane harder, eyes once more hidden as his jaws snap shut in focus. She leaps into the air to bring down a hard slash, but his cane blocks her attempt, and it results in sparks flying from the exertion of force between both parties.

The Puppetmaster quickly ends this standstill by pushing her back, making her feet drag across the ground from the force by a mile.

“...Yet adept form.” He comments, squinting his eyes at her.

She wipes away at her face, just in case. Her posture straightens in confusion, but it is quickly taken over by anger. “YOU ASSHAT, STOP OBSERVING ME AND FIGHT!” a complain, but her expression changes to confusion once more as he disappears in a cloud of dust from her sight.

Where the FUCK did he go NOW?!

His form appears out of nowhere. Looming over. His eyes are devoid of pupils, and for a moment, she finds herself stuttering.

“H-HOLD ON W-WA-WAIT JUST A SECOND!”

There was no time for waiting in a duel of course, but it slipped from her mouth before she could even think about it fully. She could only assume that he was disorienting her, and it was working effectively.

His cane twirls on his hand, and he uses the other end of the metal rod to push her to bend backwards, just to avoid the flaring poke of electricity surging through the cane. There was no time for the Harlequin to get back up, and she cursed herself for making rookie mistakes, and proving his words right.

What was wrong with her today, of all days?

He sweeps her legs, knocking her off-balance down to the ground, but her athletic build allowed for a very quick recovery, and she was back to steadying her stance again.

“Fascinating. What an impressive reflex. You have a fast recovery.” 

The Puppetmaster seems to be taking notes of her actions, and it was then that she realizes he was simply toying with her.

“Maybe this could work… Hm.”

Her sword drops to the ground a loud clank, which forces his gaze to look up at her. But it was too late.

A very hard kick met his face and he barely had the reaction time for it. He could feel the blow produce a gust of wind as he flew to the old safety bleachers (much to it’s destruction), and a loud crack permeated the air as one of his teeth flew off and broke in half.

A heavy cloud of yellow dust hid him from the view of the fuming Harlequin.

He rises up, seemingly unaffected until he reaches to check at the loss of a denticle. A black substance covered his gloves’ fingertips. His gaze once more lands on the Harlequin, who is now emitting visible hot steam from her body, breathing heavily as her eyes shone brightly with the intent of murder.

“I’ve HAD it up to HERE, with your STUPID ANTICS!” She stepped a foot onto the ground, and the cement underneath the sand crumbled. The lights slowly flickered in response, and his eyes widens in alert.

Uh oh. This was not good. The fight needs to be ended as fast as possible now.

“I suppose I should’ve been paying more attention to a duel.” He clutches at his cane for support as he stands up undamaged (besides the lost tooth), but lets go of it as soon as it’s job is complete.

If she won’t possess a weapon, then it wouldn’t be right for him to possess his either.

Both of them rushed at each other in high feats of speed, and a small crater was created as a proof of the intensity of the hit. When the Harlequin would deliver a punch, a dense gust of wind would be produced as the Puppetmaster blocked each time.

There was now more steam emitting from her body, and the clock was ticking. He had no choice.

With a revenge kick to her torso that she blocks with both arms, he sends her flying to where she had previously dropped her sword, as he rushes to his own “weapon” of choice too. 

She grabbed at the sword and rushed.

He grabbed his cane and did the same.

The speed executed between both parties was unmatched, and a heavy cloud was produced for the last time in the middle of the arena as both fighters collided their weapons.

Their gazes were intense, the Harlequin smiling when she pointed her sword directly at his core. But the blue light emitting from the Puppetmaster’s cane made her look down to where it was pointed.

It was also at her core.

Satisfied with the way the Harlequin stopped fighting out of slight confusion, he opts to explain the current situation.

“Now, you can pry open my core and deactivate me just as easily,” he starts. “... But if you so much as move the required centimeter to do so, the tip of my cane will touch your core which will shock your heart with the amount of electricity that can power 5 large cities.”

Her eyes widened.

“We’re both made of metal. How the fuck are you going to defend yourself from this?!”

“I won’t.”

It was a simple statement that made the Harlequin realize what he’s doing. “Do you have a shitty death wish or something? That’s crazy! There’s no way you can produce that much charge either, you’re just fucking bluffing!”

“Am I, now?” There was not a hint of humor nor sarcasm in his tone. He was dead serious.

She couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t fucking believe it.

“We’re at a stalemate, dear.” She gripped the handle of her sword with much intensity, baring her teeth in frustration and denial.

“This fight is over.” He proclaims no winners, and the Harlequin begins to kick the remaining sand in the arena all around, throwing a temper tantrum.

“NO!” She shouted while gripping at her head, uncaring of the noise. “NO, NO, NO! THIS WASN’T SUPPOSED TO END THIS WAY! YOU CHEATED YOUR WAY OUT OF THIS, YOU-” Her joints stopped responding to her actions, and she finds herself kneeling onto the ground. Horror filled her entire system as she tried to decipher what’s happening, but before she knew it, All she could see now was the tattered, faded yellow-red stripes of the tent ceiling.

And then the view of his stupid dentures face came into her sight, and he was back to observing her again.

“You’re still functional, are you?”

“UNFORTUNATELY.” She grit her teeth.

“Hm.” An acknowledgement.

She could hear the way he takes a seat onto the ground beside her.

“You’re quite an odd one.”

“CAN YOU STOP TALKING.”

“Hm….” He contemplates. “No, I don’t think I will~.” There’s a smug pitch in his tone (that would’ve made a vein pop somewhere in her head if she was organic). “You’re the first sane Puppet I’ve talked to in a long while.”

… Was this somehow some kind of cruel punishment?

“Just let your body cool down and re-adjust for now. You really pushed yourself back there.” She couldn’t exactly tell what he was doing, but if the slightly muffled way of speaking was any indication, she could only assume he was checking his now missing tooth.

But that wasn’t what grabbed the Harlequin’s attention. Rather, she was slightly intrigued about how he knows what’s happened to her, when she didn’t.

“What are you even talking about? What’s happened to me?” She asked, temper slowly subsiding, although irritation was still present.

“What’s happened is that you accidentally began to overcharge yourself.” He was more than glad to explain. “Your body couldn’t keep up with the amount of energy spent, and now here you are, lying down on the ground.” He taps at the sand above her head with the golden sphere of his cane. “You also nearly overheated that you could’ve exploded your core. But you can’t feel that, can you?”

She sighs. “Of course I fucking don’t. I’m a Puppet. I don’t feel things, I just do things. At least that’s what I think I should be doing.”

There was a moment of silence between them, one that the Harlequin was more than glad to have. But almost as if being mocked by timing, this quiet was broken by the voice of Puppetmaster once more.

“What’s your directive.”

“Fight SOMETHING, I guess.”

“No.”

“What?”

“Tell me your FULL directive. I don’t want a summarized version.”

She sighs again. “FIND— FIGHT— PROTECT—- CITY—- FROM HARM.” There was a slight pause and a bit of glitching in her voice when she recited the blanks.

“…Well, I must say, this is quite the predicament.”

“Can you stop being so fucking cryptic and just tell me?!”

“... You’re broken.”

“EXCUSE ME?”

“An incomplete line of command. It’s making you act on your own." He explains. "For shorter terms, you’re a loose cannon.” He mutters something else under his breath that the Harlequin couldn’t hear, and for a moment, there’s an unreadable tone with his delivery that she can’t decipher.

“Wha… what the hell does any of that mumbo jumbo even mean…” She would drag her hand across her face if she could right about now.

“Say, how would you feel about an alliance?”

“I feel like punching another one of your teeth out, that’s for sure.”

“I’m flattered, but also serious. You and I are quite possibly the only Puppets left sane here in this world. And I have an idea that I can only really do with YOUR help.”

“I’m not fucking interested in your passion project.”

“Your purpose seems to say otherwise.”

Her brow creases. “What, are you gonna say it involves fighting something?”

“Not just that. It’s also to protect this city from further harm.” Now that got her attention. She’s cautious, but in all honesty, also intrigued.

“We can discuss this even further once you’re all good to go. But for now…” He trails off as he stands up, and she can finally move a little bit of her joints on her fingers. Her body was seemingly cooling down to allow slight movements again.

“My name is Caine. Do you have a name?” For a moment, she senses a foreign bit of deja vu.

“... Just the code on my shoulder.”

“What is it?”

“P-1210.”

“Well, I can’t be calling you that. How about a proper one?”

“Whatever knocks your socks off, I guess.”

“ ‘Pomni’. What about ‘Pomni’. ”

There’s a response at her core that she couldn’t fully understand. But it seems that it wants her to agree.

“... Sure, I-I…I guess.”

“Pomni it is.”

══════☸☸☸════════════☸☸☸══════

[rosiesmuts]

The Temptations of Jennie Kim

BLACKPINK Jennie

Words: 4,000

A/N: Boo! 👻

Jennie Kim is a pure unadulterated bitch.

Obstacle one is making it past the bouncer; having your name on the guest list makes that an easy task. Obstacle two is the sea of people; a VIP wristband solves that little inconvenience. Your expected prize for completing these side quests is a night of dancing, ending with divulging in the salacious body of a world famous idol. The light at the end of the tunnel is anything but. Obstacle three is something you couldn't see coming. That world famous idol has already found her seat, only it's on the lap of another man.

Your mind goes a million miles a minute trying to figure out a plan:

1) 'I should go up and confront her.' No, causing a scene wouldn't be good for anyone.

2) 'Fuck this I should just go home.' No, I can't let her just win so easily.

3) 'Fuck it, I'm already here, might as well grab a drink.' I guess this is the winner.

Probably not the best plan, but the one you've chosen.

"Don't tell me you're obsessed over her too."

An unfamiliar voice. Your eyes follow the voice, finding yourself face to face with a beautiful woman. It shouldn't be a surprise, this club is crawling with them. Too busy wallowing in your pity to notice her join your table and too late now to do anything about it.

"Huh?" Admittedly not the most suave response, but it's the one that comes blurting out.

"Jennie. Half the guys here are just sitting here staring at her, what's so special about her anyway?"

"Are you really surprised? BLACKPINK is a pretty big deal. Besides I want staring I was just-"

"Look at yourself, you're even sneaking in little peeks while talking to me."

Her hand is placed under your chin, forcing you to finally take a good look at her. You start to speak but she cuts you off.

"What’re you drinking?"

"Whiskey."

It's rare to see a woman take control. And here you were, sitting face to face with one. She flags someone down and orders you a fresh drink.

"What's your name?" You regret your lame choice of ice breaker the moment it's said out loud.

"Unimportant. Let's just have some fun and see where it leads."

Maybe there is a god. So far nothing you've said could be constituted as smooth, yet here she was, still giving you a chance.

Where things led was more surprises: first, a dance. A hot body pressed close and shaking, accompanied by a mind clouding cocktail of scents. Your eyes dart all over her: the glow of the mysterious woman's pale skin under the multicolored lights; her plump lips; her toned midriff.

"Still thinking about Jennie? I think you've got enough room to squeeze me in."

Both her hands come to rest at your hips, gently pushing yours forward and squeezing your body closer to hers. Your eyes lock, the music from the club fades out, and you find yourselves with your noses an inch away. This insanely hot girl, not the one you intended to spend tonight with, but not the worst thing you can think of right now. The tip of her nose brushes yours and her hands push forward one last time, the kiss can only be delayed a second longer.

"What the fuck are you doing?!"

Jennie Kim has some nice timing. Just when you were about to give into this other woman, there was a tug on your shoulder and you're spun around–Jennie Kim's face, contorted with a mixture of anger and jealousy.

"You. Step the fuck back, he's not yours." Jennie shoves her hand out to your impromptu date, but that was apparently not an adequate barrier to keep her away. The girl comes up and wraps around your arm, not allowing Jennie to steal you away.

"He was until you got in my way."

"In case you didn't hear: step the fucking hell away." Jennie is nothing short of livid. People have stopped dancing, staring at the unfolding scene. Your new date notices the attention.

"Fine! He's not worth it anyway." And just like that your new acquaintance storms off, her hips and the smoke trailing from the bottom of her black dress being the last you'll ever see of her.

"Walk. Right. Now." Jennie drags you towards the hallway, likely intent on either berating or maiming you somewhere in private. In any other scenario it would sound like the fantasy of every man in South Korea, but right now you know it's bad.

A private room behind the dancefloor, a much better place to be killed and your corpse dumped than in front of hundreds of witnesses. She shuts the door with a slam hard enough you think it might shatter and locks it with an unnecessarily loud click.

"Who the fuck was that? You've only been here two minutes and you're already on top of another woman?!"

"Hey, hey, fuck you Jennie. Do you know what I saw when I came here? After you invited me? Oh you were totally there, sitting on another man's lap."

"That's not the same."

"Not the same my ass. Can you even begin to explain what it is then? No of course you can't. Because you're a spoiled fucking idol who does whatever the fuck you want."

You turn to leave, but are pulled back and receive a rough slap across the face. There's no pain, only the sudden red color filling up that side of your vision. She did it again. This time it brings with it the burning sensation. A stinging radiates across your cheek, an angry mark that burns more as the adrenaline fades.

Then in almost cliche like fashion you grab her face and slam her into the nearby wall, returning her slap with an aggressive kiss. Jennie doesn't try to pull away, in fact she gives just as much as she receives. If her jealousy made her slap, her frustration makes her kiss harder, her teeth digging in slightly at her efforts.

"Someone is still obsessed with me hmm~?"

"Fuck you." The reply is snarled out through the tears in your teeth.

"Why don't you? Make sure everyone out there knows who you belong to. You weren't even interested in that slut anyway. All you could think about was me."

Any rebuttal was silenced the instant a hand traced the outline of the bulge forming in your jeans. No words need to be said; she's right, there's only her. Her face, her smell, her voice. Jennie bites your collarbone through the shirt to try and get a rise and boy does it. A firm hand groping her behind and pulling her into you, meeting the hardness growing in your jeans. Jennie chuckles, enjoying the reaction.

"Do it. Go ahead."

Jennie fucking Kim. The girl of your dreams. The girl of your nightmares. You've fallen into her trap. What's happening right now can only be described as karma's cruel payback, an attempt to dangle your greatest desire right in front of your nose–before a final humiliating insult is slapped on it.

"You little bitch." Jennie taunts you, unraveling her flirtatious intentions as her skirt rides higher and higher along with your patience. "Go on. Put me through the wall. Pull it out and fuck me as hard as you can."

It would be too easy, wouldn't it? Giving her what she wants after what she did. Instead she's dragged to the couch and bent over you knees. Jennie yelps in surprise, before realizing what's coming to her.

SMACK.

"I didn't say stop." Jennie responds after feeling the forceful slap at her backside.

Another. Jennie cries out, before letting the sweetest sounds come tumbling out of her mouth. Your palm raises once more, pauses, and then swings down and impacts against the exposed skin. A large pink spot forms on the exposed skin as a result and you're starting to think Jennie is actually getting turned on.

"P-please."

"Well since you asked so nicely."

Her panties are brushed to the side and two fingers plunge in and begin exploring without any warning. Jennie squeaks and curls up at the sudden and bold invasion, but it doesn't take long before those two fingers find the sweet spot and stimulate a cascade of pleasurable electricity. In and out they go, aided in their efforts by the squelch of their occupant's excitement. The couch rocks as Jennie arches and bucks wildly, alternating between sporadic whimpers and full on screams of delight.

"I'm so close...so so close..."

Your fingers pull free then another smack against her ass again, interrupting her moment of bliss.

"You think you deserve to cum Jennie? Hmm?"

Jennie answers with an arch to her back, a long, sensual moan that turns into a low pitched growl.

"Yes...Yes...just let me cum please please."

She's grinding at the air, her desperation on full display. You're just a few seconds away from finishing her, of making this cute bitch cry out and go rigid as waves of pleasure radiate all the way from her groin to the rest of her body.

"Feel that pressed against your stomach Jennie? I think you need to suck it. Prove you deserve it."

Her feet meet the ground as she kneels between you legs, and with a final lustful glance, begins to pull away the zipper to your jeans. "You're a real fucker aren't you? Fine, I'll show you."

Down goes your underwear, tossed to the side of the couch, and up Jennie comes with the heaving package in her face. A tiny lick along the bottom of the shaft and then a more robust and adventurous one the entire length. No preamble this time, only the sudden heat and wetness as the girl with a history of petty remarks envelopes your member, coiling her tongue around the sensitive areas and sinking further into your lap.

This girl, Jennie Kim. How can she be so talented at such a crude act? The walls of her mouth shift in a thousand ways as she draws a throaty groan out of you, her tongue expertly knowing all the ways to drive you crazy. This fucking bitch, going deep, purposely drooling all over it, and looking up in satisfaction as she gags and chokes. Up and down she goes, swallowing and sucking back a mouthful every single time she rises. The picture perfect idol, loving nothing more than a throat full of cock, a wide streak of mascara under her eyes and spit all over her face.

The room grows ever hotter, the look in Jennie's eyes begging, imploring for you not to hold back. You sit upright and clutch onto her hair, fingers locking as tight as possible to guide her, taking charge of her bobbing head, sending yourself all the way up to your pelvis. Her arms are limp, her face is a mess, you've reduced a famous singer and model to a panting wreck, and that sight is almost too much.

"Fuck my mouth..." the pleads of the famous superstar when you let her up for air. Her request is granted, her hair gets pulled and the momentum carries your pulsating member all the way to the base. Inch by inch, millimeter by millimeter until the tip of her nose touches the pubic bone and her jaw is stretched as wide as possible, the outline of the member embedded into her throat.

The unholy gags are the hottest fucking thing ever. And the little flutters, her struggle not to cough, the spasms. Jennie Kim, proudest bitch alive. Choking and gagging on your cock, no thoughts in her brain of anything else but to please. She loves it, she wants it. More, more, more, always more, begging with her eyes the only way she could.

With a heavy gasp, you finally let up, letting her burning lungs draw air. While she is a coughing wreck, her face slick with tears and saliva, the thought that fills the forefront of her mind is exactly what's about to happen. The thrill, the idea, the exhilaration, she can't contain the giggling smile.

Jennie was a bad girl, touching herself while you fucked her face, showing off her fingers covered in her own juices and licking them clean. This woman was going to be the end of you, that smirk.

"You and that stupid ass cock." Jennie takes matters into her own hands, straddling your lap, lining up the tip. She's in control, now she'll decide just how far you'll sink into her.

"Dumb fucking whore." Your fingers wrap around her delicate neck. Her eyes widen, not in fear, but in excitement. They darken, her pupils dilating, the clear response to the aggression is reflected in a quickened pulse under the flesh. It isn't surprising the more forceful you get, the wetter she seems to get.

And holy fuck it feels so fucking good, Jennie's lower lips engulfing your tip. The walls of her cavern part and pull you deep within her, her breathing changes pace and volume, whimpering and panting as it sinks in further. She's warm, she's welcoming. Every inch is a bit tighter, the friction causing your heart rate to rise, and her arms, encircling you in a vice grip, coaxing a tighter hold on her throat. You can almost see the lightheaded effect it's having, the subtle shifts in her vision, the dream like daze that accompanies such euphoric sexual bliss.

Up and down Jennie bounces, the tempo of her breathing just a second out of synch, every moan coming just a second later. You don't try to hide your own pleasure either, groaning with a volume only a centimeter away from yelling and definitely noticeable beyond the walls. With a firm slap to the ass, her pussy responds in the best possible way; squeezing tightly for a moment and sending a pleasant shiver down your body.

Jennie fucking Kim. Her tightness, her perky tits, the fucking supermodel and worldwide heartthrob, riding you. That's a story to tell. The sight of this gorgeous bitch bouncing up and down like her life depends on it, the sound of flesh colliding reverberating throughout the room.

Her cries of pleasure come louder, with no sign of the fun ending any time soon. Another thrust and her eyes roll to the top of their sockets. The adorable scrunch in her nose, the contortion of the expression of carnal pleasure, the euphoria right after. The small smirk in the corner of her lips and the grinding of her hips into yours. She's close. Her face gives that away. Her walls pulsate, and if that doesn't sell it the pitch change of the moans certainly do. Her noises shift in timbre. Whines and loud whimpers, the sudden erratic nature.

There's no stopping her now, it's out of your control, and it's fucking beautiful. Jennie fucking Kim, cumming on your lap. Her thighs begin to spasm, a waterfall of juices spilling all the way down to the floor, pooling around your ankles. That fucking face, a cacophony of ecstasy. Then with one final, powerful groan, she suddenly stops. Her eyes shoot open and she curls up, freezing and grinding away. You pull her hair back, forcing the perfect idol to bare her neck and shriek, as her orgasm consumes her senses, her legs thrashing about and toes curled into their arches. Jennie fucking Kim came, her face red and a smile creeping upon the ends of her lips.

It's not over, not even close. Jennie's face a mask of desire, her breathing deep, still needing more, the short, panting breaths catching the tiny pieces of her hair waving across her face.

"Fuck me like you mean it." Jennie goads you on. Your hands wrap around her tiny waist, fingers digging into her flesh, and you start thrusting. Up into her body, down into her lap, each of her downward drops meeting a upward thrust, your hips meeting hers halfway. In no time her squeaky noises are echoing against the walls, your pelvic bones colliding hard, both of your bodies jerking about as you throw everything into each pump. Her eyes turn dark, a drunken gaze. Fuck yes, those lips curling back into a naughty, crazed smile.

"You can't fucking resist it can you?" Jennie screams the question, feeling your hands force her up and slam her back down with your hips surging forward. Her whole body lurching backwards from the impact and then snapping forward from the following motion. Another one, the smack of flesh meeting flesh resounding once more and the squirt of liquids spraying the air and wetting the sides of the couch. Jennie no longer cares, letting her body get fucked and then roughly jammed downwards and impaling herself repeatedly, filling the room with the loud slaps.

"You're nothing but a fucking whore aren't you?" You say it directly to her face and as expected the deprecating talk turns her on like nothing else. A genuine laugh followed by a growl and a "you want this tight pussy all for yourself?"

And another smack, a spank and a squeeze of her delicate ass. Her neck tilts backwards. Yes! Look into those deep pools, her gorgeous, intense stare. Losing control, that face, her mouth, it's open and wet and covered in saliva. That cute kittenish tongue sticking out of the edge of her lips.

Another thrust. Jennie's body flies forward from the impact, a lustful grin stuck on her face, burying your face in her small tits. Her chest jiggles with each pounding, a single moment of freedom followed by an instant of being engulfed in their softness. Those perfect mounds of flesh, enough to drive any sane man or woman mad with obsession, bouncing inches from your eyes, sweat coating their supple surface. Her giggle erupts and she sees that dumb smile plastered all over your face. Her nose rubs against your own. The stare is intense.

"We really fucking hate each other huh?" Jennie teases then goes in for a kiss. A sloppy, messy affair, her nails dig into your back, leaving a series of scratches as her pussy tightens around the engorged member within her. She's cumming again, the contractions drawing out another series of grunts.

"That's right, keep your dumb cock buried inside, you fucking love this tight pussy."

Oh how far this idol has fallen, the foulest mouth coming out the prettiest lips. Then she whispers in your ears to hold her hips tighter and fuck her harder, and fuck did you deliver. Her throaty groans filling your ears, a crescendo and a rapid beating pulse under your palms. You're close, this little superstar making sure you're as deep as you can be and clinging for dear life.

Jennie's hands wrap around your throat, squeezing, choking the life out of you, your vision blurring, and at the same time she's squirting a second wave and shaking violently. Her hips never stop moving, fucking herself silly. She doesn't stop, the nasty smirk has returned and a mumbled string of 'fuck fuck fuck' under her breath.

Jennie fucks you. Those perfect abs, her slim body, the smell of sex radiates all throughout. You're getting lightheaded, this cute piece of ass a violent whirl of raven hair and painful grip. The harder she orgasms, the harder she squeezes your neck. Then, stars start filling your field of vision and your vision goes white, the pulses start firing. Sick sadistic oxygen depravation brings one of the hardest orgasms in your life. That twisted smirk of the psychotic woman, the evil in her gaze as the heat fills the pit of her belly. She feels it, your load splashing inside of her womb. As you release, so do her fingers, the blood rushing back to your brain not a moment too soon.

Her expression, oh how proud she is for her conquest. You couldn't look anywhere else, this perfect devil in front of your eyes. The cute, tingly and erotic feeling flowing from your groin, it never stops and only grows, the continuous shots, emptying everything you have into her. This little fucking bitch, controlling you until the very end.

Jennie fucking Kim sits satisfied as you gasp for air, a mixture of confusion, satisfaction, and pleasure overwhelming your body. That beautiful little smirk, her hips rolling about, enjoying your final twitches before everything softens.

"See, now tell me that wasn't worth the wait."

Jennie collapses forward, a content sigh, a murmur in your ear about how her body feels. Your legs and feet tingle, a sort of numbness and buzz from the powerful waves of euphoria. Jennie stretches like a cat, all while nuzzling against your neck.

She leans in for a kiss, soft, gentle, uncharacteristically kind. Fingers thread into her hair, your palm resting against the side of her neck. She's warm, and tired, the once energetic and brash girl now settling down, almost vulnerable.

"You know why I keep coming back to you?" Jennie seems almost kind, running her hands through your hair and looking at you with loving eyes.

"Must be my big cock." You tease her, pinching her bum, and stealing another kiss in the process.

"Of course you can't be serious for a single fucking minute." Jennie shoves her shoulder against yours. "No you idiot. When we fuck, it's so fucking good. And look at you. Trying to act all tough, but when I tell you to fuck me harder you do just that. And when I tell you just like that you don't change pace for a moment."

The affection, her soft words. Jennie Kim loves to act hard, to show herself off. There's the world's most famous pop star, snuggled into your shoulder. Her finger tracing along the outline of your chin, the last few beads of sweat dripping down her forehead and her eyelashes. Jennie almost looks sweet, smiling down upon you. That signature gummy smile, the tiny dimple on one side. How can someone so rough, have such a charming side?

"Give me your jacket fucker."

Now this, this was much more of a Jennie thing to say. What a cute and silly request after something as passionate as what the two of you did. Jennie's sweat soaked body. Your brain is a fog, still lost in the moment, struggling to take the demand seriously, still looking at those flawless thighs, now tinged pink.

"I can't leave this place looking like this. You're taking me home. Don't think I'm done with you yet." The look in her eyes, that mischievous glimmer. A girl bent on devouring you. Her knee pressed against your crotch drives you back into reality. "Did you not get the fucking memo? Hurry the fuck up."

There is no shortage of nerve in this girl, and fuck if her confidence and commanding tone isn't doing anything for the part of your brain in charge of desire. If anything, you know she's not exaggerating, she still isn't fucking done. Not by a long shot.

It'll be another long night, the same pattern of anger and lust. Spoiled fucking idol Jennie Kim, turning you into a fucking puppet. Letting you do the strangest things to her in the middle of the night. That bitch. That perfect little devil.

And you wouldn't have it any other way...

[blasphemecel]

Michael Kaiser — Mean

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 6.4k TYPE: Fake dating, This is not fluff or angst but a secret third thing (with a cheerful ending) WARNING(S): Depersonalization/identity issues

The first time you meet Michael Kaiser, you get a bad impression.

Yeah, sure, he doesn’t have the most stellar reputation, anyway. You’ve met all sorts of unpleasant people in your life and he manages to disappoint even when the bar is so low, the only way to go lower is through digging.

You don’t exchange a word with him, but rather you have the misfortune of having to listen to him talk throughout the entire meeting. He starts countless arguments, some valid to an extent. You can tell he’s just doing this because he’s addicted to the sound of his voice and speaking to people like they’re unimportant specks of dust all while commanding their attention. There’s no point to his fussing either because he ends up signing the same contract you do.

Waste of your goddamn time — he might as well have not signed it and saved you the trouble, since the ordeal ends up lasting three hours because of him.

Maybe you should’ve not signed it yourself, but your PR manager was salivating at the idea of fake dating as a publicity stunt, especially with Kaiser who’ll be posing with you for a photoshoot in a few months, so you said ‘whatever’ and here you are. In this predicament with an insufferable man you imagine you won’t get along with, which already predisposes you to never giving him a chance.

___

The first time you speak to Michael Kaiser, you unsettle him.

It’s unlike him to feel disturbed, let alone at the slightest thing. He’s met all sorts of sickos, so he considers himself unflinching in the face of anyone who has anything off about them.

But he’s fifteen minutes late to the ‘date’ you’re supposed to use as a tool to subtly launch your fake relationship and he’s expecting a scolding. Kaiser spots you and heads in your direction, taking the seat in front with a shitty smirk and an ingenuine, half-assed apology on his lips.

What he gets in response is a blank look — almost… unimpressed, which naturally someone like Kaiser takes as a challenge and already sets the tone for the rest of the conversation — and it’s as if you’re staring into his soul. Then in an instant your expression flips to convincing joy, your warm smile contrasting his snide one, and you say, “Let’s act like we’re really stoked.”

A chill runs down his spine. On a logical level Kaiser knows you’re faking it, but it looks real, and that’s what he finds freaky. Also, the speed.

“Let’s not,” he says. “You’re weird,” he adds after you don’t respond.

You don’t react to this information either and settle for maintaining your smile.

The barista decides to spare him from having to look at you while you don’t say anything. He’s pretty sure you’re doing this deliberately, to torture him. When you attempt to order something, he talks over you and asks, “Can you give us one of those shitty milkshakes with two straws in them?”

She stares at him in bewilderment. “We don’t sell those,” she says eventually.

“Can you make one?”

“No…”

“You’re scum,” you tell him, dropping the happy facade. Again, the quickness strikes Kaiser as disturbing. Then you give her a valid order, and he asks for water since they offer that everywhere and he can’t be bothered to read the menu. After the barista leaves, you say, “I could have lactose intolerance.”

“You could. I could be trying to kill you.”

“I don’t know if a milkshake would be enough to kill me.”

“Maybe I was trying to give you a stomach ache,” he concurs.

You don’t dignify that with a reply either.

Kaiser tries to speak with you again, “I really fucking hate milk.”

“Then why’d you do that?”

“To embarrass you, of course,” he says, like he’s revealed to you the natural order of things.

“Hm.” You consider this new information. “I’ll definitely think of a way to get back at you.”

The lukewarm threat seems to amuse him more than anything.

Then you proceed to have a hostile few hours together in public as instructed. You end up throwing napkins at his face.

Kaiser isn’t good at pretending to be in love. The only such image he seems capable of projecting is one of a middle schooler who’s failing to find a balance between playful and mean. Though it also doesn’t matter to you because you mostly teeter on the edge of mean, slightly left of apathetic. Nothing really matters to you.

___

For your second court-ordered date with Michael Kaiser, your manager tells you to get caught holding hands with him at a park after the cafe meeting doesn’t spark much controversy. The notion itself has you scrunching your face, but you don’t complain about it or voice your opinion.

Again, he’s late picking you up by a not negligent amount of time, leaving you to stand in front of your building, motionless and impatient.

Instead of announcing his presence in a more acceptable manner, Kaiser blares the car horn until you realize it’s him. After you crawl inside the passenger seat, you turn to look at him and see that he looks very pleased with himself. It’s obnoxious.

“I hope we die in a car crash,” you greet.

“We won’t.” You don’t know why, but his brain interprets this as an opportunity to brag. “I’m an excellent driver.”

He’s not. Somehow you make it to the park without getting into a catastrophe — which, as established, you wouldn’t have minded.

You exit at the same time and Kaiser frowns at you by the time he circles his way around to you. You don’t care enough about what’s bothering him to raise a questioning eyebrow let alone ask, but he tells you, “I was going to open the door for you and then offer to help you up. You ruined everything!”

You roll your eyes. “How gallant.”

“Get back in,” Kaiser says, pointing (as if the gesture will be enough to convince you to play along). “Let’s redo it.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. I have a vision for these kinds of things, that’s all.”

“Your vision is trashy and uninspired,” you reject promptly.

Kaiser seems to be the first person in the world who finds your attitude funny rather than objectionable because he grins at your response. But he’s more so looking at you like you’re a bug he finds fascinating in comparison to the rest, without any real respect or acknowledgement. 

“I admit maybe it was a bit cliche,” he says. “Would’ve made me look good, though, if someone caught it on camera.”

You smile that ghoulish smile again and grab his hand like you were told. His fingers are cold and yours even more so, making the grasp clammy and uncomfortable while you begin your stroll. You don’t even know what you’re supposed to talk about with him. Soon enough, you scowl, both the silence and the sensation of getting touched proving too much for you to hide your displeasure, even though Kaiser seems content with letting the silence fester.

“Oh? Why’d you stop? I’ve started enjoying your creepy masquerading.”

“I’m disgusted,” you say.

“Disgusted,” he repeats. “By what? Me?”

“It’s making me sick. Who knows where your hand’s been or what you’ve done.”

Albeit visibly offended for the first time if the lack of an annoying smirk is anything to draw judgments from, Kaiser drops it first. Your arm hangs by your side again, limp.

“Let go, then. Or do I need to do everything myself?” That’s quite a dramatic sentiment coming from a man who has done nothing all day besides a short drive and taking a few steps.

“But my manager said-”

“Who cares? I think my manager’s lucky I agreed to this bullshit in the first place,” Kaiser says. “By the way, my hands haven’t been in any sewers or anything to warrant this reaction, thank you very much.” He must be the type of person who only ever says thank you as if being grateful is some big joke.

“I’m not being literal. I know who you are and what people say about you. My disgust is conceptual.”

“Flattering.” Kaiser’s pleased again with the mention of this tidbit, like the mental image he’s getting of you searching him up gives him immeasurable amounts of satisfaction. One thing you’ve come to notice about him since your last outing is that he’s shameless. “You’re not special, though. Lots of people know who I am.”

“See, this is exactly what I’m talking about. You’re scum.”

“Do you usually talk to people you barely know in this way or is it preferential treatment? I’d love preferential treatment, but the other option is amusing too.”

“Usually,” you say in a monotone. “That’s why I don’t speak much. More so supposed to be looked at rather than heard, and so on.” You finish off your explanation with a flippant gesture. That’s what it’s like for you — ‘shut your trap, it ruins your appeal.’

“Well, I-” there’s an emphasis on the word ‘I’ because Kaiser always thinks his opinion matters, “-think your worldview is pathetic and embarrassing. What’s the point of being looked at if no one will listen to you? How can you be fine with that?”

Fair point. You concede in your head, but don’t commit to agreeing with him out loud. “You’re not special either. Most people gross me out.”

“You hurt me this time.” He’s sneering, though.

After a while of walking, you find yourself sitting on a bench next to him. A few pigeons strut around near your feet, bobbing their heads back and forth, almost catching a groove. “If I had any bread, I’d feed them.”

“I’m not surprised you’d feel interested in such a commoner’s activity,” Kaiser says, as if he is somehow superior to you for not wanting to participate in this.

“Vile,” you say, voice still neutral. You’re not looking at him either, attention glued to the birds.

He doesn’t know which part of it you find dismaying — was it the class shaming or what? “So you like pigeons, but you hate humanity. You’re one of those.”

“I don’t hate humanity,” you say. “But nature is repulsive by default. It’s not amoral. When we’re cruel and ugly, that’s a conscious and opportunistic decision. Every day CEOs throw their employees and workers under the bus for more profits. Someone’s getting murdered as we speak. We’re faking a relationship to attract brand deals. I’m getting sick just thinking about it.”

“Get a hobby instead of thinking about stupid shit like that. Caring about how ugly and bleak everything is won’t get you anywhere,” Kaiser… advises.

“Look at the pigeons.” You’re watching the one with the missing claws, wobbling and struggling to get around. “Humans domesticated them and then abandoned them. I love flora and fauna. They’re interesting and exist much more differently than we do.”

“Does that mean you like my tattoo then?”

“Not everything needs to be about you. It’s not like people will forget you exist when you don’t force yourself to be at the center of conversation.”

This stings him the tiniest bit. Either you’re probing into an insecurity or he’s reading too deep into what you’re gathering from your conversations with him. “If I wanted to have a pseudointellectual conversation, I wouldn’t ask a vapid model to psychoanalyze me.”

“Your opinions are unoriginal and stereotyped just like your ideas about romance,” you say, finally turning around to face him again with those haunted eyes. He’s unamused now, clenching his jaw and all. “A stupid athlete wouldn’t be my first choice for a ‘pseudointellectual conversation’ either.”

“You look down on others and judge them, so what makes you so different from all those ‘scum’ you hate? How are you exempt from your own standards?”

Do you realize you’re displaying similar behaviors to those you’re scolding him over?

“Well, there’s a simple explanation for that,” you say. Kaiser is expecting an argument or something, but you kind of floor him with your follow-up. “It’s called hypocrisy. I’m probably just as disgusting as the average person.”

“Your life must be miserable if you look at everything through this lens. What was the phrase, rose colored glasses? Yours must have shit smeared over them.”

You shrug then make a 50/50 motion with your hand. “My life’s neither good nor bad. I’m indifferent on the subject.”

“Uh huh.” Kaiser considers this, then his lips twitch up, and then his smile broadens — it’s snide and smug again, and you come to the realization that he probably doesn’t know how to smile in any other way — before he inches a little closer to you. Not enough to brush against you, but enough to count as an attempted provocation. “I think people like you shouldn’t be considered alive. Legally speaking. And if we’re being figurative, you’re obviously already dead.”

You frown at him, since he’s kind of right. The fact that Michael Kaiser has the capability to discern truths you don’t want to hear rubs you the wrong way.

“Speaking of birds,” you start, deciding to change the topic, “you remind me of a peacock.”

“Wrong.” He’s pouty now. You find the expression cute, but when you catch the thought you throw up in your mouth a bit, so you ignore it. “I’m clearly a swan.”

“The fact that you have a preference when it comes to what animal you’re considered is sad.”

“And you’re entertaining. Let’s hang out again soon even if those sorry fucks don’t suggest it.”

You find it bewildering how he calls his PR manager’s input a ‘suggestion’ and seems to think he can do whatever he wants. Which, maybe he does, seeing the way he conducts himself. You’re also tempted to tell him to make up his mind on whether he enjoys your company or not, but there are more important matters right now. “We’re not supposed to do that, I don’t think.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that.”

“Why this desire all of a sudden?”

“It’s what I want.” What impeccable reasoning. “I think I can make you enjoy yourself,” he says. “Don’t get me wrong. Not for your merit or anything stupid.” Kaiser offers what you’d describe as a flamboyant hand wave in the air, demeanor laced with complacency. “I think it’d make me feel really charitable and generous if I can manage to add something to your depressing life. Give me a chance to try.”

“Word of advice,” you scoot away from him to the point the edge of the bench is digging into your ass and it honestly hurts, “you’re not gonna get anywhere with that attitude. How you phrased it disgusted me again.”

Kaiser finds your favored terms interesting. Everything is sickening and disgusting and vile and scummy from your perspective. Deep down for reasons he doesn’t want to ponder, he can relate.

“Great. You’ll come around soon,” he promises, with the confidence of someone who thinks this is a game he has a high chance of winning.

___

Kaiser makes it a point to inflict his presence onto you as much as he can afford to with your schedules, even though there’s no need for it. Not that you refuse him either. He’s kind of interesting to keep around, in his own Kaiser-ish way.

Earlier today he invited himself over to your house. He’d decided you need to come up with a story about your ‘relationship,’ but didn’t wanna discuss it through text messages. Apparently he has an interview coming up and wants to be prepared in case they ask him about you.

“How did we meet?” you ask, sitting on the other side of the couch and leaning against the armrest, away from him.

The answer is immediate: “I saved you from a burning church.”

You question what other fantasies this man could probably have because that’s the most absurd thing you’ve ever heard. Your voice somehow remains flat despite the bewilderment when you ask, “Why?”

“Because it’s flashy and dramatic.”

“But if anyone searches it up, they’ll see there haven’t been any… burned churches?”

“You’re such a killjoy.” Kaiser sighs. “It makes it sound mystical.”

“No it doesn’t,” you say, rather flippant about the entire thing. “It makes you sound like a pathological liar.”

“I like your sense of humor.”

“Thanks, but I’m not kidding about this.”

“Then what do you think it should be?” Kaiser asks. Obviously the purpose of this inquiry is to criticize your choice of scenario — even you can anticipate such a predictable move.

You roll your eyes and then look away from him in contemplation. You hadn’t really thought about it, since you don’t do interviews, and therefore you don’t need to concern yourself with hypotheticals on the matter. “Some kind of party, maybe. Post-match celebration?”

“Makes sense,” says Kaiser. “Doesn’t compel me, though. Boring.”

With a hum, you try to imagine what would both appeal to Kaiser and sound realistic. Though he doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’s swayed by practicality. “I went with someone else, but you swept me off my feet so hard, you stole me away from them.”

“I guess it sounds plausible enough while still having an element of fantasy.”

“Is the idea of me liking you the ‘element of fantasy’?”

“Yeah… That’s why I want it.”

You didn’t expect such a response. It has you looking at him weird. You do so often anyway, but now you do it for longer as if trying to glean something. In response Kaiser tells you to take a picture since it’ll last longer. The reply seems extraneous and distracting, and that only makes you feel more suspicious of him, which is weird since you’re not sure what you’re even inferring.

___

Officially it’s your fifth date with Kaiser, unofficially it’s the tenth. This time you’re holding up a frog in your open hands.

He doesn’t know what the point of all the nature-themed outings is — maybe to make him seem down to Earth in the public eye since he’s become notorious for how insufferable he is? Either way he doesn’t care, and he’s not the type to wander at landscapes, but your affinity for ugly animals is kind of cute.

The frog isn’t some special one either. No crazy colors or anything, just a regular green tree frog (according to your expertise). You let it jump onto your palms, since apparently touching their skin is bad for them or something. Kaiser scrutinizes it in distaste, staring down into its big eyes while it croaks. “So you can handle a disgusting amphibian, but you can’t hold hands with me.”

“I see you’re still thinking about that.”

“Well, it was insulting. And besides, it’s never happened to me before.”

“You’re not so bad. I don’t think I’d vomit if we brushed against each other anymore.”

Kaiser seems curious but nonetheless pleased with this development. “Why the change of heart?”

“Because you listen to what I say,” you tell him.

He somehow resists the urge to piss himself laughing at the sound of that. “Your standards are so low. It’s so sad that it’s funny,” he says. Maybe he would’ve dedicated some more time to teasing you over it, but he comes to a realization which immediately lifts his mood. This must mean he’s in your good graces somewhat, and not many people seem to fit there, so that makes Kaiser special to a degree. Right?

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.”

“Who would’ve thought someone who looks the way you do would come out like this?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I think you were one of those kids who, like, shoved sticks and leaves in mud and called it a potion.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean now?”

Kaiser lets out an annoyed sound, tired of elaborating. “It means I think you’re strange.”

“Hmm, I bet you do,” you say. “There’s a quote I like: ‘It is no measure of health to be well-adjusted to a profoundly sick society.’”

“Yeah, and I bet that’s the kind of message you love. What’s it from?”

“Interesting story,” you say. “This is Jiddu Krishnamurti’s most famous quote, but it doesn’t appear in any of his books. Allegedly he said it to some other guy.”

Kaiser blinks and nods, maybe trying to keep a pretense of having the slightest concept of what you’re on about. “Whatever, got it. I can’t remember the last time I read a book of that sort. Maybe I’ll check him out.”

“You don’t seem like you’d be interested in that type of thing,” you say, staring at him as if you’re trying to figure him out.

“Actually, I am. Can you stop taking every chance to insult me?”

“I’m not. At least not on purpose… So, what are your hobbies, anyway? You never told me.”

“I practice. What do you take me for? Well, I read, too, but psychology non-fiction only.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him. “That’s it?”

Kaiser opens his mouth to justify himself even though there’s no need to be defensive — maybe it’s that he feels like he’s lacking in some department after you bring your attention to it with your little response and generally Kaiser hates to be insufficient. But before he can argue and try and talk himself out of whatever perception you have of him now, an interruption happens.

The frog, which had been lazy and content with merely existing in your grasp, springs without any warning. It leaps out of your fingers and lands on top of Kaiser’s head.

Today you learn Michael Kaiser screams at an ear-shattering frequency when he’s startled. Soap opera level of shock and overreaction.

___

It is when you’re eating at a trashy place for lunch that Kaiser’s looking at his phone, which you find rude since you’re supposed to be spending time together and whatnot. He eats like a pig, too, not graceful at all — you wonder what his fans would think if they saw him with crumbs over his mouth and sauce on his chin. Good material for a public embarrassment campaign, you think.

But it’s in that moment that he finally wipes himself with a tissue and reaches out to all but shove his phone in your face. “Look, we’re so hot!”

You grace the picture with a dismissive glance before looking back down at your meal, disinterested. You already know enough about Kaiser to assume he’d get a kick out of power couple fantasies. And other power fantasies. Really, you find it pathetic.

It was something out of the photoshoot he was showing you, his favorite you presume. Even someone like Kaiser, who has conventional features, isn’t perfect when it comes to these unreasonable standards. He’d been way too stiff next to you while he posed and though his face is symmetrical, his expressions tend to stray to one side, and obviously it’d been corrected.

There’s a mismatch between you on the covers and your image in the mirror. Maybe your brain is exaggerating the disconnect, but every time you see them, it’s like staring into an airbrushed, distorted amalgamation. In other words, you prefer avoiding both the edited products and your reflection whenever you can.

“We don’t look like that,” you say, offhand about his enthusiasm as you are with most things.

Kaiser scoffs and then very blatantly tries to compare between whatever version of you he has on his phone and the you in front of him. There’s not a single good thing you can say about his decision — it’s making your skin crawl just knowing it’s what he’s doing.

“Close enough,” he deems after careful examination.

“I don’t think it’s me.”

“It’s quite literally you.”

“I don’t think anything is me. Like I’m just what I see. My perspective, my point of view. You get what I’m saying?”

“No?” Kaiser says, laughing at you and your apparently strange affliction.

“Well if not that, you have to admit things captured on camera aren’t real.”

“What are you talking about,” Kaiser asks in a flat tone, which leaves it as something less than a question. A few more snickers escape him and he’s grinning at you like a bastard — if at first he regarded you as a slightly more fascinating bug than the rest, by now you must be his favorite, the rarest… A tree lobster. “You make no sense.”

“It totally makes sense. Imagine we’re having sex-”

“What kind of stupid come-on is that?”

“It’s not a come-on, I’m explaining. So, imagine we’re having sex-”

“In what position?”

“Whatever you want as long as it works for the scenario. Anyway, imagine we’re having sex-”

Kaiser laughs harder and then attempts some seductive sort of expression which doesn’t land with you. “I’m imagining it,” he informs.

“Shut up and let me get to the point. Imagine we’re having sex and I’m recording it-”

“Wow, I didn’t take you for such a pervert? Not that I hate it.”

“-so I’m looking at you through the camera lens. The phone’s between us. I’m not, like, in the moment with you. My mind’s absent, it’s all digital. So if you think about it we’re not even really having sex.”

“... You’re losing me even more,” Kaiser says after some contemplation, finding the fantasy unpleasant all of a sudden with this new spin to it. A moment passes during which he takes another big, possibly exaggerated bite, but he at least has enough decency to chew and swallow before adding, “I think you just have a problem.”

You roll your eyes, wondering if he even entertained the thought, but shrug since it doesn’t matter in the end. “Why are we always talking about how I’m weird? If anything, you're eccentric, not me.”

Kaiser wrinkles his nose in offense at the notion and makes an incomprehensible hand gesture in the air. “No. I’ve turned out totally normal. Don’t put me at your level.”

A lot of curiosities spin around your head concerning Kaiser’s behavior whenever you meet and you’re yet to find an answer. What does he want? Clearly he’s comfortable with and used to wanting, but what is it? Attention? Money? Fame? Status? All, none? Will it ever be enough? Is it even the kind of hunger which can be satiated?

Who is he when he’s not playing this ridiculous character?

“I can’t get a read on you,” you tell him.

“Well, you’re socially inept. I doubt you can get a read on anyone.”

“So are you.”

Kaiser feigns hurt over this. He does that a lot. Maybe he finds it hilarious, maybe the performance is all for shits and giggles — who knows.

“I want to dissect your head,” you say after a while of silence.

“Really? That’s what you wanna do with me?”

“Mhm. With a scalpel. I’d make an incision around your temple maybe.”

“My beautiful and demented angel, is that your way of saying you wanna get closer to me?” The sentence comes out mocking with a paper thin smile, but there’s a sense of admiration in it. What for? You raise an eyebrow in visible confusion at the… nickname, but Kaiser doesn’t elaborate. To take away from the tension(?), he announces, “You’ve got something stuck between your teeth,” pointing at your mouth all amused.

___

Kaiser had an ulterior motive in accepting that deal. Though wording it this way makes it sound like some calculated, opportunistic, sinister scheme, when in reality it’s nothing beyond immature and a little humiliating.

Of course, in true Kaiser fashion, when looking to meet someone, he goes straight for the most convoluted option. So when the stupid idea came up, he agreed, even if he put on a bit of a show at first and acted irritating. Confessing to wanting friends is so embarrassing. He’d rather shoot himself at point blank or perhaps commit an act of auto-defenestration than admit the real reason for participating, much less in front of you.

Despite the jabs, you’re also not bad at all. Calm and uninvolved in anything that upsets him and without any expectations towards him.

At first he found your indifference derogatory, but as the months have passed by, there’s a sort of comfort in knowing that he could’ve been some random guy off the street and you would’ve probably treated him the same. In front of you he is neither on a pedestal nor someone to be knocked down on his knees. More Michael than he is Kaiser.

Things have been teetering on a dangerous edge lately. His mind is wandering off towards you again, more and more often each day. Like maybe he’s excited for the next time he sees you or something else repulsive in a similar vein, a giddy feeling bubbling in his stomach. Is this what it would’ve been like to be a little boy with a crush?

Generally he prefers not to socialize with background characters. So he doesn’t know why it’s while he’s having some benign daydream about you that some newbie he hadn’t bothered remembering the name of decides to interrupt him. Besides, it’s inconvenient, he was supposed to be leaving and this guy is blocking the changing room door.

“I heard you’re banging a model,” he says, as if they’re good pals or some shit. Kaiser is also mostly immune to annoying locker room talk since all the other psychotic men he knows are too busy being as fanatical as him to waste time on something as useless as objectifying someone to pass the time, yet here this lowlife is.

Kaiser regards him with a judgmental side eye — for a second too long, almost television-style — and tries to move and sidestep him. “Why do you care? Pathetic cuck.”

“Woah, don’t be like that. I just thought it was funny. I’ve heard about that person before, would’ve thought it would be more of a hit it and quit it type thing. Yet here you are, still together.”

The emotion that zaps him is almost disorienting. Kaiser bruises easily, but it’s all about him. There’s never been much room for anyone else in his mentality of suffocating self-absorption, a depressing way to try and compensate for anyone who’s ever wronged him. Right now, though, he’s feeling anger on someone else’s behalf. A borderline exotic situation.

“So I was curious if that thing about loonies being the best at fucking was true? I’m assuming it is ‘cause I don’t know why else you’d stay with a schizoid.”

In the heat of the moment, when he’s pissed off, Kaiser is not the most poetic wordsmith. Thankfully politeness and civility are sensibilities which elude him. Without a second thought or any regret, he makes use of his water bottle still in his hand and dumps the entire contents of it over his head before elbowing him out of the way while he’s still confused.

___

You really don’t want to be having this conversation.

For fuck’s sake, you’re on break. And isn’t that supposed to mean relaxation? Yet the other model for the shoot today has been bugging you with unpleasant questions, putting you on the spot.

“Isn’t he a narcissist, though?” she asks, refusing to let go of the topic no matter how unresponsive you’ve been.

“I guess? Maybe. In a way…”

“You’re sooo… I don’t know. Like, you don’t even sound sure about what you’re telling me.” She narrows her eyes at you, leaning in a bit closer. “Aren’t you scared of him? Or is it ‘cause you’re so sheltered, you don’t know not to mess around with guys like Kaiser?”

Scared of him? It sounds ludicrous. At worst he’s whiny.

“He’s harmless,” you say. “Just a little rude and preoccupied with himself, that’s all. Actually, he’s an interesting and attentive person.”

She covers her mouth and lets out a sound of amusement, apparently now finding you more convincing and therefore dropping her worries. “He was saying you guys are suuuuuuuper in love with an interview.”

Not too engaged with the topic — since it’s about whatever lies Kaiser told the interviewer to entertain himself — you ask, “Is that what he was saying?”

“Yep. Didn’t you watch?”

“No.”

“Fine. Maybe he’s ‘interesting and attentive.’ I mean, I don’t believe it, but whatever. What about you, though? Do you like him, let alone love him? Can you even like anyone? I mean, shit, you know how you are. So, like, can you? Are you suuuuuuuper in love?”

You avert your eyes. “Yes,” you say. It’s true. You do like Kaiser well enough, probably more than you should. “And stop making assumptions about him and me.”

“What if I don’t stop? What are you gonna do?”

That’s… A very good question because there’s nothing you can do at the moment. Seems like a good opportunity to weaponize your reputation of being a deranged serial killer. “I’ll lick your eyebrows.”

You don’t know if your delivery is persuasive or not, but the idea you’d do such a thing must come off as believable enough because she makes a strange face before backing off.

___

You despise being in situations. And making decisions.

There’s a stupid PR meeting again. Your manager, who you think should move onto writing trashy novellas instead of administering poison to your career just because his imagination is overactive, proposed a new stunt. With the fake relationship running its course, you were discussing ways to publicize the ‘break up’ and he suggested a cheating scandal. Not to mention his great idea had you as the cheater — you swear he’s praying on your downfall at this point.

Maybe because you’ve been treated as some kind of fucked up creature incapable of thought and trustworthy decisions, something insentient, you would’ve went along with it like always. Even though you know you’d look bad, the point is to make noise, and it would be a scandalous story if not anything else. Another indignity doesn’t matter much on an endless list.

Then Kaiser in true Kaiser fashion declared that he wants to keep the relationship going. To you, such an act of flippant defiance is unthinkable.

But obviously this forces you into a position where you need to pick between your options. They’re all staring at you, waiting. Kaiser is smiling at you from across his seat like you’re in on a joke with him. Anxious, you say, “I’ll think about it,” and stand up to leave.

You’re sweating because somewhere within you wanna announce ‘Yeah, I wanna keep seeing Michael Kaiser,’ but it’s so preposterous.

Kaiser doesn’t chase after you (though it’d be his style to do such a thing solely for the drama), but he catches up to you by the time you make it outside of the building, approaching the parking lot.

“Hey. Hey! Hey, stop ignoring me. Heeeeeeey.”

God he is such an annoying pest sometimes. You turn around to face him, snapping, “What?! What was that about anyway?”

“No, what’s with you? What is there to think about? You don’t want to look like a clown in front of the world, do you?”

You’re looking at Kaiser again like you’re trying to figure out a mystery. He always wants things, but what does he want from you? There has to be a reason for this. Otherwise, he should’ve been fine with the separation instead of trying to prolong it.

“Listen,” says Kaiser, a little apprehensive at your silence and expressionless gaze, “I can tell you barely tolerate your shitty job and that you probably don’t like the moronic idea your anthropomorphized cyst of a manager came up with, so why aren’t you protesting it?”

Those are objective enough observations. However, “Anthropomorphized cyst…?”

“You’re changing the subject,” Kaiser huffs, irked. “And by the way the fake meek act isn’t cute at all. They’re making money off of you. Tell them to fuck off and die and stop acting like a hostage.”

“This is very inspirational and all, Kaiser, but how about you tell me why you wanna keep the fake relationship going?”

“Doesn’t matter. If you don’t want that either, you can say we’ll settle for ending it instead of-”

You cross your arms. “Again, your attempts at a pep talk are adorable and appreciated, but you’re changing the subject now.”

“They’re not adorable. I’m right. Say I’m right.”

“Fine, fine, you’re right,” you relent with a roll of your eyes.

Kaiser smiles snidely and clasps his hands behind his back. “Thanks,” he says in a sarcastic tone. Then you expect him to entertain your question, but he doesn’t, leaving you in an uncomfortable staredown against him and his stupid ‘beautiful glowing blue orbs’ ass eyes.

“Answer me,” you demand.

“Your unpleasant personality and reclusive ways have bewitched me.”

…

…

“… What?”

“I won’t repeat myself,” Kaiser says with too much attitude considering the situation. Like, he just spoke out one of the most absurd sentences you’ve ever heard.

“Do you have a brain tumor?”

The outrageous suggestion makes him scoff. “Really? You think I need a brain tumor to like you?”

“Maybe,” you say. “Should’ve let me operate on you when I offered.”

“You’re mentally disturbed,” he replies like the fact turns him on or something.

“So were you asking me out or what?”

“Yes? No? Yes. Yeah, fine, I am.”

“Do you search up ‘personality’ on porn sites?”

“Come on, be serious. I mean what I’m saying and I want to give things between us a try. Do you?”

You cringe as if admitting your feelings or overall being in touch with them in the first place is a physically painful sensation, but in your defense you think you might throw up. “Yeah… Yeah, okay, I’ll tell him tomorrow. My manager, I mean.”

Kaiser swings an arm around your shoulders, visibly pleased with the way this is all going. He sings, “That’s the spirit.”

What had he wanted from you? Affection and care, apparently. You think back on when you’d called him ‘disgusting’ and a foreign guilt overcomes you since you don’t usually lament the remarks you make during your misanthropic hissy fits.

Is it fine for someone such as yourself to also indulge in wanting? Hesitant, with shaky arms, you embrace him around the middle, the gentlest of hugs. Kaiser freezes for a moment as if he’s unsure what to do when he’s not the one initiating things, but eventually returns the gesture. Melts into it, even. Two existences brushing against one another, at first glance contrary yet perhaps similar in many ways.

When you finally pull away from each other little by little, Kaiser says, “Let’s elope now.”

You sigh. “You sure have a way of making everything sound way more exciting than it is.”

(He drives you back to your place, but still sucks at driving. Chivalrously, he avoids crashing the car, though.)

___

Yall I was drinking light yellow tap water for a few daysdo you think somethings gonna happen to me ?

Btw I hate this but it's finally finished after like around a month so whatever lol I' M FREE

[triassictriserratops]

I know we all love talking about jealous Katniss but I want to talk about jealous Peeta because reading the books now as an adult makes me realize how obvious he was about being jealous, he’s just not possessive or a jerk. Because it’s hilarious to me that he just keeps bringing stuff up that he’s jealous about but trying to be subtle. “I thought he was your cousin””she’s just mad because of her boyfriend” “is that really the only time you’ve kissed Gale”. Good grief, he brings up Gale more than Katniss ever does. But it also matches his character that uses words for everything. He just keeps bringing up stuff while Katniss is like WTF. Post marriage he doesn’t really get jealous but once in a while I’m sure there may be a minor thing here or there that makes him jealous and he brings it up during dinner to Katniss who is just focused on the food

Jealous Peeta absolutely FED me, It was NOT SUBTLE.

and we know there were a LOT more moments of jealousy than he let on. he makes a point of telling Caesar that he knew other boys liked her - so i imagine there was a bit of locker room talk and a LOT of Peeta biting his tongue and taking his frustration out on the mat instead.

(Once, he got a record-breaking - and SLIGHTLY arm-fracturing - win when one of the guys on the team talked, in detail, about what he wanted to offer Katniss as a trade the next time she came by his parents' shop.)

I fully imagine that Peeta was aware of, and HAAAAATED the fact that the two went out to the woods together. He NEEDED to believe they were cousins. Like, for his sanity. because he can't IMAGINE that Gale would actually fumble the bag by being alone with Katniss every single morning for 4 years and NOT making a move.

And Peeta was trying to undermine Gale, too. "I hear the girls talk about him a lot - baby girl, that man is a whore, i wouldn't do you like that."

no and then the HIJACKED jealousy???? UNFUCKING REAL. Every single barrier that boy put up for himself was GONE. ERADICATED. He was SEETHING with a jealousy he couldn't even really understand and just sitting at that table like:

So of COURSE he has to turn it around and try to make HER jealous. Make her realize how unimportant she is. He could have anyone. He could even take Annie.

"Fuck Everthorne and their star-crossed bullshit." (because he TOTALLY viewed them as star-crossed. Nobody believes in the existence of Everthorne more than Peeta Mellark)

"And fuck Katniss too, and NOT sexually (unless?...) No, FUCK HER (biblically???) NO."

Honestly, I personally don't see him getting jealous at all after "so after". Once she gives him the security and peace of saying the words - he'll never doubt her. Not once. And Katniss loves in an all or nothing way. And with Peeta, it's ALL.

If anything? It's Katniss. Post-marriage Katniss has a bow with the words "for trifling hoes that wish they could" etched into it. It's specifically her "that's my WIFE" bow and she's just ITCHING to use it.

That being said, while he may not be jealous Peeta is VERY competitive whenever Gale is visiting the district. For, like, the stupidest shit. Gale comes to town carrying a buck so he'll just go and move bags of flour, one in each arm, like it's nothing. (He's actually sweating HARD but he refuses to admit it)

[californ1asnow]

Needy

Mike Schmidt x reader

blurb, smut without any satisfaction. MxF (F receiving). Thigh riding?? 18+

send in requests for anything similar

word count: 694

Mike Schmidt has a thing for making you flustered.

He’s not sure when or how it happened but all he knows is that he’s got to be careful whenever you’re both in public, in case things might get too out of hand.

Like right now.

It’s Halloween night and Abby is staying over with her friend, which meant you and Mike were able to go out and party. A rare occasion considering the fact that the two of you were always watching her.

You were invited by a mutual acquaintance and had convinced Mike the day before to come with you, beckoning him with a night off and free alcohol. What he didn’t realize was how revealing your outfit would be, and how turned on it would make him.

You’re wearing a black jumpsuit with a low cut V-neck, purple cape, and heels tall enough that accentuated the long curves of your legs. Your hips are robust in comparison to the tight suit, giving your figure a nice look. And by god is Mike all but crumbling at the sight of you.

Maybe it’s the outfit or maybe it’s all the alcohol he’s consumed, either way he doesn’t care, he knows he needs you tonight. Right now.

That’s how you’ve ended up flush against the wall of a random stranger’s bedroom. Hands digging aggressively into the flesh of your hips, his lips are pressed hot against yours. You grasp wildly at the buckle of his jeans, pleading for them to come off.

He mumbles into your ear about something unimportant, most likely suggesting the two of you should get home. A shaky breath escapes him after you pull his hips closer into your own.

“Can’t,” you whisper back, voice deep with lust, “I can’t wait until then.”

“Fuck it,” he says, voice stern. Hot, calloused hands travel down the length of your back, tracing the curve of your ass, before pulling you up and around his waist. Without breaking contact with your swollen lips, he moves to make his way to the nearby bed.

Your skin feels like it’s on fire with every touch he makes. The rapid rise and fall of your chest with each excited breath causes you to shiver. Mike’s lips trail down the side of your jaw, peppering wet, open mouthed kisses across your skin.

Your jumpsuit and his shirt sit forgotten together in a pile on the floor. Only your underwear and his jeans separating both bodies.

You grind your hips as deeply as you can against his clothed boner, enticing a moan out of the both of you. He’s attached to your neck, sucking hard enough to surely leave a dark bruise for the next day. The whimper that escapes your throat is breathy, a sign of how needy you are for his touch.

“Shh baby girl,” he hushes, “no one can know we’re in here.” He mumbles against your skin, a low groan following as he presses you further into his hips.

Your clothed folds rub sickeningly slowly against him, causing you to whine for more friction. Mike takes note of the needy sound, and strips you free from the fabric. His hands grab at the sides of your waist, gently rocking you to a steady rhythm against him.

The rigid feeling of denim against your sensitive clit is enough to drive you crazy. Your stomach twists with the budding sensation of your first orgasim. The pleasure starts to wrack your body, but before you’re able to fully relish in it someone knocks at the door.

Mike hurriedly, but gently, pushes you off of him and collects his shirt. You find a spot to hide and he opens the door, greeting the person standing behind it. He hopes the person is too intoxicated to notice the wet spot you left on his thigh from your near orgasim. They exchange a few words before Mike convinces them to leave, and soon he’s back by your side.

“‘M sorry princess,” he mumbles against your lips, “let me make it up to you.”

You’ll realize the next day how hoarse your voice would be from moaning his name all night.

[jamiesshelves]

Parts of TSC I can't stop thinking about (after my first read)

Jean having a few minutes before Riko got to him and using it to text Renee a warning. NOT asking her to help him. But warning her. Probably to protect Kevin and Neil more than himself.

Jean viewing himself as a captive with Wymack and Abby

Jean calling Neil Nathaniel until that sudden switch (just like when Neil thought of himself as Nathaniel)

Jean being the same age as Neil, so one of the youngest characters we know

Jean worshipping Thea and her calling him Paris

Jean throwing out Andrew's candy

Jean roasting Aaron for being unimportant even with a murder investigation going on

Renee giving Jean forehead kisses

"Right person, wrong time"

Jean taking Renee's picture and it being the only picture he has

The way the world perceives Riko as a martyr after his death

The way the world brushes aside that he almost killed Neil on live TV

"The only one close enough was andrew"

Jean reaching towards the TV as if he could save Neil and wanting him and Andrew to run

Jeremy being brunette through the events of TFC

The Trojans being okay with their plan for the foxes game because they knew they'd lose to the ravens eventually anyway

Jeremy living at home and having an estranged family situation

Jeremy having a butler he loves and trusts more than his family

BarkBark

Jean's promise to Kevin

Jean calling Kevin a "beautiful boy"

Both Jean and Jeremy trusting Kevin whole heartedly

Kevin giving truths about the nest to Jeremy

Kevin admitting to sticking to Andrew like glue because he didn't know how to be by himself after the nest

The coaches concern as they realize the way raven coaches treated Jean

The rumors about Jean and that Neil never thought of them

Jean being confirmed a bi king and simping over everyone except canon beautiful Neil

Jean probably not simping after Neil because he's the partner that could've been, aka a brother/safe space he never got

Jean not realizing why top surgery scars, and his abuse scars, would be seen differently

Jean not understanding why Trojans can pick their own clothes, food, majors, etc

Andrew letting Neil go to the FBI in California without him because he trusts his runaway to come back

Neil's immediate response to hearing about Greyson is hiring a hitman

Neil sassing the FBI

"I guess Drake wasn't a biter"

Neil telling Jean he can lock his door if it makes him feel safe but he doesn't have to worry anymore

Cat wanting to teach Jean to ride a motorcycle

"Kevin has earned the right to be"

Jean being afraid to ever teach anyone French again

Jeremy hiding from the police

Elodie

"That's putting it mildly." WHAT THE FUCK STUART.

Jean's list.

Jean still texting Renee

The reason the Trojans stay so positive

"I'm not safe with you anymore"

The parallels between Jean and Neil

Jean thinking he never got anything he didn't deserve

Jean only having a carry on bag like Neil

Wymack giving Jean money and his note

The Trojans giving Jean forehead kisses

Jeremy being into Jean but wanting to allow Jean to be able to heal first

Honestly more but this is enough for now lol

[gemini-sensei]

Shy!Eli Moskowitz x Goth!Stoner!Reader

Request: Could you do shy! Eli dating a Goth girl who smokes weed headcanons please

🍃 It started off as Eli watching Reader from afar. He was too shy to approach and say anything. He thought he was being discreet but Reader knew. She saw the way he looked at her, so she decided to ask him what his deal was. She was joking but Eli thought he'd done something wrong and started apologizing.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to stare... it's just that... y-you're so pretty..."

🍃 Reader smiled and assured him that he wasn't in trouble or anything like that. She actually thought he was pretty cute and his stammering admission only furthered that thought. She asked him to hangout some time and he didn't want to be rude by saying no, so he said yes.

🍃 They ended up going to a park and walking around for a while until she pulled him into the woods to smoke a joint. At first he refused it when she offered but when she told him it would help him stop worrying so much, he thought it wasn't such a bad idea. Two puffs in and he's high as a kite.

🍃 They ran around the playground like little kids and had fun being high. They spun themselves silly on the swings and fell onto the grass with stupid little grins on their faces. They talked about everything and nothing at the same time. They made fond memories that she'd go on to say was their first date.

🍃 Like him, Reader is an outcast but by choice. She's goth and perfectly fine expressing herself but other students - like the popular kids - don't care for it. They try to bully her for it but she's content with where she's at in life that it doesn't bother her. Or she's too high to give a fuck.

🍃 When she and Eli start dating, her friends come sit with them at lunch. It's unintentional, but they act as a shield to Eli and Demetri. The bullies learned a long time ago that Reader and her friends can't be bothered by their comments, so they scoff and walk away when they see them hanging out with the two nerds.

Reader sees them walking up to the table where Eli and Demetri are sitting and she walks over with her tray, sits down, and he friends follow. She smiles at Eli and takes his hand into hers under the table. Then she turns to see Kyker and his friends at a standstill, not sure what to do, and she flashes a fake smile and waves her fingers at him, being a bitch to them since they wanna act like bitches.

🍃 He didn't think hed ever like getting high, but he loves sitting in her car together and smoking with her. They sit in an empty lot and hot box the car, only to end up making out heavily over the middle console.

🍃 He starts to adopt her beliefs about his bullies, how unimportant they are and how what they say doesn't matter. She definitely brings out a side of him he didn't know he had. Regardless of that though, he's still shy and quiet Eli. He just doesn't let the bullies bother him so much anymore.

🍃 Black lipstick smooches all over his neck. When it's smeared on his lips or around his mouth, Demetri is always at a loss for words. Eli never knows what to say if he's caught with the lipstick on him. He gets so flustered and stammers even more than usual.

🍃 Late night dates, long drives, and open-late diners are all perfect dates for these two.

🍃 Him worrying about his mom finding out he's smoking weed with his girlfriend, but she's too happy he has a girlfriend to notice his red eyes when he comes home after his dates with Reader.

🍃 People think she's too goth and spooky for him but obviously they just don't understand the couple. Reader gives zero fuck about their peers. She only cares about Eli and is more than happy to show that in any way she can.

🍃 Did I mention high sex? Yeah, these two end up there a lot when they're high, more often than not.

If there's any interest in making this a full fic, lmk and I'll see what I can do.

[starhvney]

𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝟑 | 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟏: 𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐒

𝐂𝐖: story is beginning to diverge from canon, teenage girls being mean asf, corny teenage drama, lucinda insults someone for having a crooked nose hahahahhdha(i also have a crooked nose, do not take offense my crooked nosed sisters!!!)

𝐀/𝐍: I wrote in some unimportant characters that very much fit the “mean popular cheerleader girl” stereotype, cause… plot. if you happen to be a cheerleader: ily, you’re awesome, and i do not think you’re a bitch! i just cannot resist the 2000s stereotype undertones that are littered in PDH, and had to do it to em. ok cool enjoy the reading guys!

𝐖𝐂: 5,900+

𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑: @arienic

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 ☆ 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒

the tension you felt for the next few weeks was truly nerve-wracking. as the days grew colder, aphmau raved to you every morning in her warm coat and scarf about how she couldn’t wait for the snow—and while you were excited too, a little buzzing noise in the back of your head bothered you like a mosquito trapped in your bedroom.

when was her next move?

it’s not like you were scared, per se. you have a good strong network of people now, who you were pretty sure would defend you 'til their last breath if anything were to happen. no, you weren’t scared of ivy anymore. but damn, would she not let go of the spot she’s earned in your brain.

was she plotting something that would be harder to refute than just some measly rumors? was she smart enough to do something like that? or was she taking so long for her next move just to reopen your scab just as soon as you thought it had healed over?

honestly, you haven’t seen much of her if at all since the sports festival. which was shocking, because all of your friends—including garroth—had been glued to your side for most of the day, and you’d think maybe she’d at least try to talk to the boy in some of your classes. but now she merely was in and out of the classrooms like a ghost, her two little ducklings following after her.

maybe you scared her off when you threatened her in the bathroom, and she decided to back down for good! that would be the best-case scenario, right? she thought long and hard about her actions, realized her immaturity, and decided to make a change for the better.

“can i talk to you?”

…

how is it that every single time you decide to venture out in the hallways alone, this guy manages to find you?

“what do you want, gene?”

there’s no mocking laughter, or offended scoff, or a wrinkle of his nose. honestly, you hadn’t seen much of him, either. his little trio have continued on in their ways without much care for you or aphmau, and honestly, you kind of respect it. kind of.

once you told him to—more or less—fuck off, he did. unlike ivy, there wasn’t any shit-talking or catty comments or disgusted glares. he truly did leave you alone, as did sasha and zenix. while you still weren’t their biggest fan, it definitely put them on a higher pedestal than ivy in your eyes. they were not the greatest, for sure, but they were at least open about it. and the amount of fucks they didn’t give was honestly a bit entertaining—as long as you weren’t on the receiving end of their antics.

this was the first time you’d talked to gene or even made eye contact with him in what was way over a month by now. so while a part of you was saying to just ignore him, the unsettling calmness in the way he approached you had you curious… and honestly a bit concerned.

“i don’t want anything.” he rolls his eyes with a sigh, looking around. “i just have something to tell you.”

“really?” your disbelief is evident in your tone, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. “don’t want to threaten me with those pictures again?”

“i don’t have the pictures anymore.” he pulls out what looked like a burner phone, a stark downgrade from what he had before. “don’t even have your number anymore, my old phone shattered and i haven’t been able to buy a new one yet.”

“wow.” you deadpan. “all that blackmailing and evidence down the drain, huh?”

he wrinkles his nose in distaste. “yeah, well. i wasn’t the one who broke it.”

“oh? finally pissed the wrong person off, huh?”

he rolls his eyes. “how it broke doesn��t matter. i’m actually trying to help you out here, so can you just shut up?”

you open your mouth to shoot something else his way, but honestly, you find yourself at a loss for words and snap your mouth closed again.

there’s a pause like he was expecting a different reaction, before his eyebrows lift in surprise.

“ivy is up to something, but i’m letting you know that i don’t have shit to do with it. i'm not entirely clear on what since she doesn’t have those pictures anymore, but she’s plotting on your downfall.”

“what, you two aren’t buddy-buddy anymore? i thought you would be on the same side.”

he scoffs, genuine offense wrinkling his features. “that is insulting as fuck. of course we’re not “buddies”. i fucking hate preps, the little pricks.”

amusement threatens to quirk at your lips, but you bite down the urge. gene was a prick too, but at least he was funny.

“look,” he sighs. “i know we didn’t have the best end to our friendship—”

“that’s putting it lightly.”

“—but,” he shoots you a look of annoyance, “ivy annoys me more than you, and i hate her style.”

“pink hair not your thing?”

“oh my fucking—” he groans into one of his hands. “i mean i don’t like the way she goes about being an asshole. at least i’m open about it, and it’s funny bad. she’s just… bad in an annoying-bitchy-backstabbing-way. i’m not a fan.”

“so… why are you telling me this?” you shrug. “i definitely haven’t given you any reason to help me out.”

he presses his lips together, straightening his back. “honestly, you’ve earned my respect. i still kinda like you. plus, you’re friends with my little brother, so. you get extra little brownie points from me. don’t you feel honored?”

“not particularly.”

gene opens his mouth to quip something back, though instead flicks his eyes up to something behind you, suddenly looking annoyed. following his line of sight, you look back to see two girls lingering by a turn into another hallway, standing close together and whispering like journalists who had just heard the juiciest gossip. when they notice you both looking their way they scurry off down the hall, whispering excitedly and giggling.

the hell?

“…i’m not trying to get involved in this one, as shocking as that sounds. just thought i’d warn you that you’re not in the clear. and… i’m not the reason for it this time.” he starts stepping back, hands shoved in his disheveled blazer pockets and lazily turning away from you with a wave. “bye.”

…that’s it?

“…thanks?” you call out, lip curled in confusion.

“you’re welcome, kitty.”

…

“i take it back.”

☆

gene’s warning floated in your head for the next few weeks, and you couldn’t let it go. if he of all people reached out, then your paranoia about the situation surely wasn’t for nothing

and it. sure. wasn’t.

it started with a few nasty looks in the hall, mainly from the cheerleaders. it made sense, since ivy was on the team surely they would go with what she said over some rando new girl.

on top of it, ivy was still… unnervingly quiet about it all. and as the days went on, she seemed to behave more and more… depressed. whether she was faking it or truly felt that way, honestly you couldn’t tell.

more weeks go by with more and more weird looks. more people leaning to whisper to their friends as you walked by. honestly, you’d been tempted to stop one of them and ask what the problem was. after all, if a rumor had started, how is it that none of your friends or you have heard?

it progressed to a few cryptic notes left in your locker, from scribbles of random insults to things like ‘everyone knows what you are’ and ‘we know what you did’. honestly, it was more irritating than nerve-wracking like you’re sure the senders intended for it to be, and all you did was scoff and throw the scraps of paper when you saw them. every once in a while someone would “accidentally” knock into your shoulder with theirs in the halls. at first, you didn’t pay it much mind, but once your binder had clattered to the floor for the fourth time, you’d be stupid not to catch on.

it wasn’t until nearly winter break that you finally got your answer. 

everything about the day felt off. from waking up to icy sidewalks and walking to school alone (aphmau went to school early for tutoring), to—for once in the past month—finding yourself alone as you walked through the halls to class. it wasn’t bad, but you felt a strange sense of nervousness.

when you open. the bathroom door to see not one, not two, but five girls from the cheerleading team by the mirrors, you almost consider spinning around and waiting until after homeroom.

instead, you walk into one of the stalls with (metaphorical) balls of steel, not sparing a glance at their pointed stares as you pass by. you take your time, too, hoping they’d be gone by the time you came back out.

silly, shouldn’t you know your luck by now?

once again, you consider just leaving when the girls are still crowded around the sinks taking their sweet time giggling under their breath and typing on their phones. you squeeze your way to the open sink by the furthest wall from the door, stuck between them and your nearest escape.

spider-lashed eyes darted up and down your figure—quite obviously—and a few beats passed like this of you washing your hands while they stared like you were in their way.

your name falling from one of their lips genuinely startles you, however, and you nearly jump in your skin as the sound. you’d expected them to simply stare and whisper like they had for the past few months, so the fact someone was finally speaking up both drove a cold spoke of anxiety into your veins and made you a little eager at the same time.

“…yeah?”

the girl who said your name was one of the seniors, and was model tall. a lot of the cheerleaders were either around your height or taller, but she made you feel short in comparison. it was—truthfully—really intimidating to be specifically called out by her, especially knowing ivy definitely twisted the truth to get all of these girls on her side. she could be really kind for all you knew, but that didn’t matter if ivy had the first say.

she steps forward, a perfectly manicured hand tosses her hair over her shoulder before getting placed on her hip. looking down at you from her tall nose, she fixes her lips in a way that said maybe she wasn’t all that nice.

you should stop giving people at this school the benefit of the doubt.

“that’s your name, right?”

“…yeah.”

“well, i was just wondering about something. you must think you’re pretty sneaky, huh?”

“i don’t.” you raise your eyebrow. “i can’t say i’m following.”

she scoffs, the other girls rolling their eyes and giving each other looks, like they were all in on an inside joke that you weren’t a part of.

“dating both laurance and garroth at the same time? acting like just an innocent friend but playing them behind their backs? we heard everything.” she lets out a short, mockingly dry laugh. “how you’re just trying to add them to your already long body count?”

so she went ahead with that narrative, did she?

“that’s what you heard, huh?”

another girl steps forward, and you vaguely register hearing the late bell to homeroom ring.

“you seem pretty shameless about it. especially now that you’re dating gene. trying to get the best of both worlds, huh?”

“huh?” you respond dumbly, face wrinkling in confusion.

“still trying to play dumb?” she pulls out her phone, tapping on the screen and turning it towards you. “we have the evidence.”

there’s a picture of you and gene leaving the school, and by the looks of his outfit it was the day you went to go meet his mom. she slides her finger on the screen to show another picture, this one your recent conversation with him just a few weeks ago.

damn. no one in this school knows how to mind their business, huh?

it makes you wonder though. did gene purposely stop you in the hall so those girls could get that picture? was he lying to you after all?

no. gene would have no reason to be a part of this. while you didn’t trust him, you believe he meant it when he said he had nothing to do with this.

“okay? those are two pictures of us talking. are you and i going to be dating the next time you talk to me?”

“ew.”

you throw up your hands with a deadpan expression, looking back over to the first girl. “my point proven. so, now that we’ve established you’re stupid enough to fall for amateur level gossip, what else would you like to accuse me of?”

“excuse me?” she scoffs.

“you’re just saying that to get out of the fact that you’ve been caught.” another girl starts. “we’ve seen how ivy’s been acting lately. you’ve been bullying her because of her crush on garroth, cause you want him all to yourself. like you didn’t already have enough attention.”

you narrow your eyes. it is a little over eight in the morning. you’d barely woken up an hour ago, and there’s currently not enough fucks in your head for you to give.

when you fought ivy towards the beginning of school, you told mrs. hwit you wouldn’t get into one again. you’d hate to see the disappointment on her face, but a quick crack to the nose would honestly be less trouble than trying to understand the scattered reasoning they were giving you.

very suddenly you find yourself… at a loss for words. they wouldn’t listen to you anyways even if you did give a solid argument. they just wanted more fuel for their gossip, and whatever energy you had to defend yourself dissipates at the thought.

just as you’re about to try and shimmy away from the group, the bathroom door squeaks on its hinges as it swings open. it reveals a familiar face, the daughter of the very teacher you’d just been thinking about mere seconds prior. she’s boredly looking down at her phone while walking in, half humming half sighing as she twirls a finger curl around her finger…

you expect her to maybe stutter in her steps or seem surprised when she looks up, but as soon as her red irises flick up to the scene in front of her, she saunters right around the group and up to your side without even a flicker of a change in her expression.

“oh, there you are. what’s going on?” she says, leaning between you and the cheerleading group to reapply her lip gloss in the mirror.

“we’re just talking to her,” the senior says, suddenly sounding much more casual than she had been before.

lucinda very softly scoffs under her breath, standing to her full height and spinning on her heeled mary janes to fully face the group and—whether meaningful or not—cuts you off from the girls.

“oh, really? what about? i love a little gossip in the bathroom.”

the girls look at each other with very minuscule grimaces on their faces, like a pest has just run over the tiles in front of them. it was quite obvious they were doing it in a way to single her out—which honestly would’ve worked on a shy or quieter kid—but lucinda’s complete nonchalance and total patience for a reply just made them appear… humorously awkward.

“about how she’s been bullying one of our cheerleaders. she even beat her up!” one finally speaks up.

“oh, did she? that sounds very unlike her.”

“yeah, she did—!”

“can i see the proof?”

they collectively stare at lucinda dumbly for a second.

“uh, well ivy has the pictures and screenshots, so.”

“but none of you do…?” lucinda crosses her arms and curls her lips judgingly, like they had all just told her two plus two was three.

the senior scoffs. “no—”

“so you don’t have proof. have you seen any of this proof?”

“no, not yet.” the girls suddenly look defensive and a bit embarrassed. “ivy was going to report it to a teacher before she showed it to everyone else.”

“so, you haven’t even seen this “proof”? i’ve heard girls whispering about this for a month, and you’re still believing her with no proof? are you serious?” lucinda deadpans, the sultry valley girl rasp in her voice the cherry on top to her total 1 v 5 take down.

“well, obviously we believe ivy over a slut who hangs out with delinquents and dates guys like gene!” the one who had the pictures of you on her phone argues, her face red.

“well i’ve heard the football boys whisper some real interesting things about you.” lucinda reaches back to grab onto your hand, pulling you into her side. “you’re quite the one to be making slut allegations, slut.”

the girl gasps, and lucinda pulls you with her to walk around the group. you think that’s the end, but she seems to have a few more snide remarks up her sleeve as she slows down again, red eyes judgingly piercing into the group.

“all of you are fucking pathetic. pull your heads out of each other’s asses for once, and you may be able to breathe some fresh air instead of regurgitating ivy’s shit you swallowed.”

she turns to the tallest girl—the senior who had confronted you first.

“oh, and by the way, i heard you complaining in class the other day about that crooked ass nose of yours,” she says, hand squeezing around yours as she stares the girl down. “say anything about her again and i’ll break it. then you can get a nose job for free! on me, bitch.”

there’s a few offended protests that echo through the group, though they seem to be grasping for straws as no more insults come from their mouth other than reworded shouts of the same allegations from before. lucinda doesn’t bat an eye, walking right out the door and dragging you along with her into the hall without looking back.

“unbelievable.” she scoffs, ginger curls bouncing as she hastily walks with you down the hallway.

you stare at the tiles, listening to the clicking of her heels on the floor. it’s a while and a few more turns before she stops, and you snap out of your zoned out daze only to realize she hadn’t led you back to your homeroom door. 

“why are you crying?”

where are you now…? mrs. hwit’s room?

you open your mouth to refute lucinda’s strange claim, though shock yourself into silence at the shaky uneven breath you draw in.

oh.

you were crying. 

you guess that’s why the lines of the tiles were a blurred mess under your feet.

“i…don’t know,” you mutter, bringing your blazer’s sleeve to your face with a sniffle. “i don’t know.”

lucinda sighs softly, pulling you into a hug. she smells like a rich feminine perfume, her charm bracelet tinkling by your ear as she pats your hair.

“overwhelmed?”

nodding and gulping down the lump in your throat, you feel a bit embarrassed as you try to gather yourself. crying in the middle of your school’s hallway was not necessarily on your bucket list.

“you’ve had to put up with a lot this year—this semester. it’s okay.”

you’re not sure what it is about lucinda that makes your tears flow so freely in front of her. she wasn’t necessarily scary or heartless, but you definitely never expected to be breaking in front of her out of all your friends. maybe it was her calming voice, or the pure confidence she exuded—but either way, her casualness about it all helped you gather yourself within a few minutes.

“better?” she asks as you pull away, pulling up her sleeves to pat your cheeks dry.

“yeah,” you whisper.

“good. while we wait for your face to… not look like you’ve been crying,” she pulls your arm, walking into mrs. hwit’s empty classroom. “we’re telling my mom.”

“right now?”

“yep.” she pops the ‘p’ as she says it, marching you right up to her mother’s desk.

the gray-haired woman quirks a brow, slowly raising her eyes to the two of you with an almost knowing look on her face.

“can i help you, ladies?”

lucinda unpockets her phone, opening her camera roll and clicking play on a video. the screen is black and for a moment there’s nothing but rustling noise and faint voices.

“…you’ve been bullying… as if… attention…”

there’s a moment of quiet before the familiar squeak of the bathroom door clarifies the scene.

“oh, there you are. what’s going on?”

your eyes dart over to a very smug lucinda.

holy shit, she was recording?

the rest of the video plays as you stand in awe, barely registering hyria’s stern look as lucinda’s threats are replayed at the end. she spares you a wary glance, and after a few mutterings of explanations later, she finally looks over to you with full attention.

“i’m proud of you.”

“…what?”

“i am proud of you. for opening yourself up and confiding in your friends. i can see how close you’ve allowed yourself to get to, not just lucinda, but to quite a few friends. and good ones at that. compared to how… tense you were at the beginning of this year, i’m proud to see how far you’ve come.”

you swallow down the lump in your throat.

“thank you.”

she leans forward, narrowing her eyes. “and we can add on the fact that you didn’t rip any hair or clobber anyone’s faces this time… yes?”

sheepishly, you recall her stern warning from your first fight with ivy, shifting on your feet. “…yes ma’am…”

she taps her hands on her desk. “good. we will talk about this more later, but for now you both need to get to class. i have some reports to fill.”

once again, you find yourself being led in a daze back to homeroom, lucinda scoffing under her breath every few seconds and shaking her head while tapping on her phone. you don’t snap back until you walk through the doors and everyone’s eyes—including ivy’s flick up to you in 

“well, there you are. i hope you have a good excuse for being twenty minutes late—”

“it’s excused. mrs. hwit sent you an email,” lucinda speaks up, just barely slowing in her steps as you both walk to your seats.

“…alright. thank you, miss hwit. these teacher’s kids…”

lucinda barely pays any mind to the last remark, her eyes held on ivy’s with a malignant smile curved up on her lips. you don’t even bother to check ivy’s face, watching the cracks in the tiles before sliding in your spot next to kate. you can hear lucinda take her seat in front of you, 

there’s a very gentle pull on your hair, trying to get your attention.

“what happened?” katelyn whispers, and when you don’t immediately respond she whips her head to the ginger in front. “why are her eyes red?”

slowly the girl twists in her seat, tapping an acrylic nail with a wry look on her face. she offers no context to the concerned teens next to you, instead intentionally flicking her eyes to ivy before leaning closer. “oh, it’s on, bitches.”

☆

every class you went to after homeroom you were accompanied by at least two friends on either side of you, even ones you didn’t think knew of the situation from this morning. you had giggled about your formation of bodyguards and insisted you were fine, but whether they continued to ham up their protective act out of genuine concern or because you found it so amusing you weren’t sure.

while it was definitely entertaining, you had to draw the line when laurance nearly skipped one of his classes to sit with you in yours and travis tried to follow you in the bathroom when none of your girl friends were around.

now you practically had a circle formation around you, and both you and aphmau find yourself squished together between your friends while you all walked to lunch

“i don’t know what to do!” aphmau whines under her breath, tucked by your side. “i mean, why would anyone even spread a rumor that i’m dating aaron? and what does ivy gain from saying you’re dating gene?”

you lift a finger. “one, from what you said, it sounds like whatever… mark or scent or whatever that aaron left on you must be a part of werewolf dating culture. plus there’s the whole thing of everyone calling you the female alpha. you should talk to him about it—”

“i told you, i tried, but i didn’t even get to bring that part up! he was upset when i told him how lily was trying to use him and had the nerve to say he was disappointed in me! like i don’t even like you and i’m looking out for you! i mean… we both haven’t been very nice to each other, but—”

you hold up your other hand, groaning under your breath. “—everything leads back to those three girls. this is such a mess.”

her shoulders slump. “i know… i’m getting sick of it.”

you hold up a second finger.

“to answer the second question, ivy is doing this because she’s shallow and can’t comprehend why a boy would want to hang out with a girl unless it’s out of romantic interest. so she’s “sabotaging” our relationship with garroth so we’re not “competition”—in her eyes at least.”

“…that’s kind of sad.”

you let your hands fall while your mosh pit of a group makes it to a table, sighing as you take your seat.

“yeah, it is.”

“hi!” someone whispers excitedly next to you, and the higher pitch could mean nothing other than…

“oh! hey, nana.” you smile at the beaming meif’wa, who was holding something behind her back.

“oh, and hello, aph!” she says sheepishly, taking the seat next to you and giving a small wave to aph. “i just thought… i would make something for you since you helped me with making friends and i really look up to you. so… i wanted to give you this!”

she pulls out a small pink box with a clear top that had some winter themed cookies inside, and a bracelet with pink beads and a few bows decorated throughout.

“…this is for me?”

she nods, her fanged teeth poking out from her lips as she smiles. “i made some cookies for all of our friends, but i made a friendship bracelet for you and aphmau. i have the matching one, see?”

she lifts her wrist, showing off a bracelet with much more vivid pink hues than your muted one—a show of her consideration to preference despite the still super cutesie design. the amber doe eyed girl next to you leans forward, gasping excitedly when she’s handed a bracelet with purplish-pink tones.

“so… if you guys want them you can keep them.”

“of course i want it! thank you, nana!” aphmau squeals, leaning over to hug her and rounding you up in the embrace in the process.

“yeah, thank you. this is adorable, honestly it made my day.” you smile.

nana’s eyes light up, sparkles shining in the girl's eyes. “you do…? i’m so glad!”

aphmau looks like she’s going to say something else before the attention of the group is taken by lucinda, who rushes to sit at the table while giggling under her breath.

“what did you do?” teony deadpans.

there’s a sudden screech from a girl on the other end of the cafeteria, and after your heart jolts from the startle you quickly turn to look around, lucinda’s snickering growing a bit louder and obvious. a few of the cheerleaders are wiping away at their uniforms and backing away from a familiar head of carmine hair, who was standing in utter disgust and shock while staring down at her hands.

it takes you adjusting yourself in your seat, but you can see the food on her tray was no longer… food. instead it had melted into a pretty disgusting looking goo, almost like snail slime as it seemed to splatter all over ivy’s face and uniform. the girls who had previously been standing next to her were unfortunately subjected to being in the splash zone, the booger substance also smeared on their neat uniforms.

your eyes widen, jaw going slack as you turn back around to look at lucinda. “you… can do that?”

she quirks a brow, shrugging and looking smugly at the scene behind you as it unfolds.

“remind me never to piss you off,” laurance huffs, staring at the scene with a bit of a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

katelyn grits her teeth. “don’t tell her who you like either or she’ll turn them into a frog.”

“that was one time.”

“like, five months ago!”

“oh, whatever.”

garroth, who has been staring at the scene with equal shock to yours leans over, a bit of a grimaced smile on his face. “well, as much as this karma bit seems nice on the surface, i hope it doesn’t cause you more trouble.”

you blink, before slowly shaking your head and laughing under your breath. “honestly, i don’t even care if it does at this point.”

there’s a beat of him looking at you in surprise, before he also begins to laugh. “you know what? fair enough.”

☆

another week passed, and snow had begun to coat the ground. you had begun to wonder if taking the bus would be worth it to avoid the frigid air blowing in from the distant mountainside, a thought aphmau had also pondered with you after one too many slips on the sidewalk just in the past few days alone.

thankfully, pondering on the issue wasn’t something you had to do for long after you’d both mentioned it next to the one and only laurance zvahl.

“thank you so much again for driving us, cadenza!” aphmau beams, tapping her shoes on the floor of the blue volkswagen you both had eagerly scrambled into.

“yeah, of course! i couldn’t live with myself if i left two cute girls to freeze on the streets!” she dramatically declares, grabbing at her heart and clenching her fist.

laughter bubbles from both yours and aphmau’s lips.

“i see where laurance gets it from.” you raise your eyebrows.

“hey! i’m this charming on my own, thank you very much.” he scoffs, turning to face you two. “by the way, did you two hear?”

“hear what?”

he leans towards the backseat, elbows on the middle console. “ivy, lily, alex, and a few of the cheerleaders got busted for everything. they’re in iss until winter break.”

aphmau’s jaw drops. “they got suspended? for real?!”

cadenza nods her head, lips pursed at the juicy gossip. “even the seniors had started to hear all those rumors, but honestly most of us took your side over ivy’s. but the fact that everyone started to know about it means the school had to do something. i think it’s deserved.”

since the beginning of this week, you did notice the girls weren’t really around, constantly getting called out by administration with a gloomy look on their faces. you got called out once, just to give a rundown of everything that happened, but since then everything went… quiet.

turns out while you had been in the counselor’s office, the whole school had an assembly and was given a big talking-to about bullying and how if any teacher heard or got a report of a student spreading rumors, they’d get severe punishment.

that threat probably wouldn’t be taken too seriously, and would likely be ignored by next semester. but at least it worked as a public shaming that would hopefully deter ivy from messing with you again. not surprisingly, gene and his “gang” flew completely under the radar once again, fading into the background while everything else went to shit.

a part of you wanted to say the whole thing seemed like overkill, that it wasn’t that big of a deal. but honestly, the peace you’ve felt this week for the first time in months overrides your embarrassment that this all started over you—and aphmau too.

while cadenza turns up her music and laurance turns to stare out at the snow, you turn to aphmau with a small bit of curiosity in your eye. while one side of the issue had been resolved pretty outright… you’d noticed something really strange about the way aphmau very suddenly quit complaining about her issue with aaron. in fact, you’d noticed them walking very calmly together and even laughing–seeming to get along quite well considering their fiery past.

“so…” you start, narrowing your eyes and lowering your voice.

aphmau looks back, a bit unsettled at your sudden change in mood.

“yes…?”

“about that aaron guy.”

her face shifts to a strangely flustered expression, amber irises flicking away as she slowly shrugs. “what about him…?”

weird…

“you two seem to be getting along now. what happened?”

“uh, well!” she shifts in her seat. “it’s kind of a crazy story.”

you nod expectantly.

she deflates, eyes darting up to the front seat before back at you. “now..?”

you nod, eyebrows impatiently raising on your forehead.

“okay!” she groans under her breath. “so… you know that online friend i told you about? like, the one i’ve been friends with for years now? fc?”

you nod, face wrinkling in confusion.

“well, it turns out that fc… is aaron.”

…

…

“what?”

“yeah. it turns out we’ve actually been friends all this time… and enemies? without knowing it. so, we decided to give each other a try at being friends in real life and start over. turns out he’s pretty nice.”

“he’s pretty nice?”

she shrinks into her seat, looking a bit frightened by your demeanor. “yeah…? i mean, i was pretty mean to him too, so…”

“so… huh?! he’s pretty nice? he was a dick to you for the past five months, and now you’re friends in one week?”

she grins awkwardly, shrugging. “yes?”

cadenza whips her car into her spot, making laurance dramatically gasp and place his hands on the dash–saving aphmau from any further of your scrutiny. with two fingers, you motion from your eyes to hers, before slinging on your backpack and leaning in with a hissed whisper.

“you’re not off the hook, young lady.”

“okay, mom,” she sarcastically responds with an eye roll, slipping out from her side of the car with a dramatic huff. this conversation definitely wasn’t over, but at the very least you could be happy that the situation was… resolved. for now.

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.

tag list: @orinlin @pain-in-the-ashe @youmake1mistake @arienic @wasting-away-on-the-internet @angelhyperfixates @remiechu @valentique @kalegrinch

[fangirl-writes]

Who Do You Love?

JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): angst

Request: I NEED MORE ANGST SO WHAT ABT THE READER IS UNSURE IF JJ LOVES HER OR NOT SO SHE BREAKDOWNS IN FRONT OF HIM AND HE REASSURES HER AND FLUFF ENDING

Notes: Man JJ and angst just go together and that’s unfortunate but a happy ending is mandatory. Also Cleo’s in here but there aren’t any season 3 spoilers. I think if this situation were actually in the show, it would be way more action-y and dramatic but I wasn’t feeling that so have this instead.

It wasn’t that JJ was a bad boyfriend. On the contrary, he was a better boyfriend than his circumstances would’ve led you to believe.

But lately it had been nagging at you; a year into the relationship and he hadn’t told you he loved you. Not once.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t said it. In fact, when you said it the first time, JJ looked like he was ready to break up with you on the spot.

But he didn’t and you just assumed that he wasn’t ready. You always put your whole heart to things and JJ was no different. You’re convinced he’s the one.

But now, after everything that’s happened to you guys, he still can’t say it?

John B. and Sarah got metaphorically married after not even six months in a relationship and JJ can’t tell you he loves you.

Are you that unimportant to him? Or is this just a fling to him? And breaking up with you is just something he hasn’t gotten around to yet?

It’s a stupid thought, JJ never does anything he doesn’t want to do and he’d never play with your feelings like that, but you can’t wrap your mind around why he doesn’t just tell you.

There can’t be another girl, right? That’s just silly when would he have the time-

...him and Kiara had been spending a lot of time together lately.

But her and Pope- no. That hadn’t worked out either. Was that where you and JJ were headed? To an unceremonious end that you wouldn’t talk about? You didn’t think you could be as cool with it as Pope.

Maybe that’s because you weren’t a true pogue.

Which was just as silly because you’d been friends with them since way before you and JJ became a thing. But you two were the first to break the “no macking” rule, even before Kiara kissed John B.

Oh, fuck.

First John B. and then Pope...Kiara wasn’t just making her rounds on her friends, right? Trying each of them out until one fit?

No, how could you even think that? That’s a horrible thing to think about one of your friends. But the insecure little girl inside of you was trying to come up with an explanation. One that wasn’t just “he’s not ready.”

Because why wasn’t he ready?

You tried to push these feelings down. Tried to not stare at John B. and Sarah with jealous longing, to not feel queasy inside when Kie and JJ hugged.

If anyone noticed your discomfort, they didn’t say anything. There was just so much going on, as always, and anyone’s feelings that weren’t out in the open fell to the wayside.

But, if you were being honest with yourself, it was starting to wear on you.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Cleo said, snapping her fingers in front of your face. “Why ya staring at Kiara like you wish her head would explode?”

You blinked, a blush coloring your cheeks. “What? I-I wasn’t-”

“Now, come on. Don’t lie to your auntie Cleo. What’s going on?”

You rubbed your arm, considering. Cleo might be the best person to talk to about it. She and JJ weren’t really close, so she could give a rather unbiased perspective on things. Maybe she could help.

“It’s just...you don’t think there’s anything going on between them do you?”

Your gaze was transfixed on the way Kie and JJ laughed, doing a little dance to the music playing at the wreck. 

“Them two? Nah. They bicker like siblings, but I don’ think either of them are interested like that. Besides, aren’t you and JJ an item?”

You nodded. “Yeah but lately I’ve been...kind of worried about it.”

“How so?”

You took a deep breath.

“It’s stupid, really, but JJ and I have been together for over a year now and...he hasn’t told me he loves me. Which I know is a stupid thing to be worried about but I can’t keep it from bugging me-”

“Hey, hey, slow down there,” Cleo said, coaxing you from the brink of rambling. “If it’s botherin’ you this much then it’s not stupid.”

You bit you lip, anxiety pooling in your stomach.

“For what it’s worth, JJ looks at you like your da sun. But if you’re really this worried about it, just talk to him. Either way it goes, you’ll have your answer.”

You gave her a grateful look. “Thanks for listening.”

“Anytime. We’re friends, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Now go talk to yer boyfriend before someone’s head explodes.”

You laughed, feeling a little more relieved, but that anxiety returned the closer to JJ you got.

He was his beautiful self, as always; drinking a coke in board shorts and a muscle tee, sunglasses perched perfectly on his nose, and strands of blond hair falling gracefully over them.

“Hey, baby,” JJ greeted casually as you approached, putting a hand on your thigh when you stopped by his seat.

“Hey, J,” you replied, trying to keep the waver out of your voice. “Can we talk?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah! Yeah. I just need to talk to you about something...alone, preferably.”

You glanced around the group, who were all staring at you with curious eyes and wondering glances. You never asked JJ to “talk,” especially not alone.

“Yeah, uh, okay.”

JJ got up anyway, but you could tell by his body language that he was just as weirded out by this as the rest of the pogues (except Cleo, who gave you an encouraging nod when you glanced at her).

He reached for your hand, but you crossed your arms to sneakily avoid it and took off toward the docks. That he definitely noticed.

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” He asked, sitting himself down beside you on the dock.

“Actually, no, but also yes? Um, you’re gonna think this is stupid and I really need you not to blow up at me for it because I think I’d lose my mind if you did.”

“Y/N, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

You let him take your hand this time and squeezed it for comfort.

“I just...why haven’t you said you love me?”

JJ’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“It’s stupid, I know, but, J, why? I’ve told you I love you. I’ve told you multiple times, even just out of instinct, but you haven’t said it once.”

“I say it-”

“No. You don’t.” You snapped.

This put JJ into defense mode. “Why’s it so important to you anyway? They’re just words. Just because you say them doesn’t make them true.”

“But are they?”

“What?”

“Are they true?”

Tears were rolling down your cheeks now, unable to control your emotions when he was discounting your feelings like this.

“This is stupid,” JJ said, standing up.

That shattered you.

“So, that’s it then?” You asked, feeling your heart sinking in your chest. “You don’t love me?”

“Of course I love you, Y/N! Why the fuck would I be with you if I didn’t love you?”

“I don’t know, you tell me!” You shot back. “Because this has been bothering me for weeks and you haven’t noticed anything’s been off! You’re too busy with this stupid treasure hunt and hanging around with Kiara-”

“Is that what this is about? You’re pissed because I’m hanging out with Kie?” JJ asked, face pinching angrier with every second.

“No, that’s not what I-”

“Well, maybe I should date her! At least she wouldn’t act like this!”

“Maybe you should!”

JJ’s face fell and silence settled between you.

Tears were still falling from your eyes and you hugged yourself, regret and guilt pooling in your stomach.

“You don’t mean that,” JJ whispered.

“I don’t know,” You replied, softly.

“You don’t know what?”

You shook your head. “I just don’t know. I don’t know if I meant it. I don’t know if you love me. I don’t know if I want to be dating you any more.”

JJ looked like you felt, completely shattered. Tears were pooling in his eyes and his mouth was slightly open, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t get the words out.

“Y/N-” he started, reaching out for you.

You stepped back from him. “Just...just don’t.”

You shouldered passed him, heading up the dock.

JJ watched, frozen, as you grabbed your bicycle from where it was leaned against the Wreck’s building and biked away.

He also caught sight of his friends, who’d been watching the encounter from the balcony, and they looked to him, confused.

What just happened?

JJ wasn’t sure either. But he knew that if he didn’t do something soon, he was gonna lose the most important thing to him.

It wasn’t until the sun had gone down that JJ finally showed up at your house.

You’d been expecting him since you left without resolving anything in your fight. In fact, you’d been aching for him for that long, wishing he’d come hold you in his arms and tell you everything would be okay, like he always did. But when he was the cause of the pain, would that make it better or worse?

You were almost asleep when there was tapping on your window.

You went to it almost too quickly, opening the curtains to see JJ standing on the roof with a small bouquet of flowers in his hand and an unsure grin.

With a deep breath, you opened the window.

“Hey,” JJ said, sliding into your room as you moved out of the way.

You didn’t respond to him, just crossed your arms and waited for him to start talking, a tired frown etched on your face.

“Um...these are for you,” he said, holding out the bouquet.

They were Gaillardias. The flowers that grew in the soft sand along beach walkways. JJ always said they reminded him of you because they were bright and beautiful and thrived in the sun.

The thought warmed your heart and you felt yourself wanting to cry again.

You took the bouquet from him, “thank you.”

You put them in a small vase that was on your desk, having once held the flowers JJ got you for your birthday a few months ago and you were just too lazy to put the vase away. You were thankful for it now.

“So,” he started, taking a seat on your bed. “Can we talk about our fight?”

You shrugged. “I guess we have to, right?”

JJ nodded as you sat next to him.

“I’m sorry for bringing it up,” You said, avoiding looking at him. “I knew it was stupid and I still brought it up. I just wanted to know...”

“It wasn’t stupid,” JJ replied, also not looking at you. “I’m sorry for saying it was.”

“Would you tell me why?” You asked.

“I-” JJ sighed, turning sideways and pulling you along with him so that the two of you were facing each other.

You wrinkled your nose. “JJ your shoes are all sandy-”

“I’ll take them off,” he said, quickly pulling his sneakers off his feet and dropping them on the floor, making sure to wipe away the sand before taking a deep breath and continuing. “I can’t say I love you because I really do. It’s hard for me to say because everyone I’ve loved before have left me. My mom’s gone, I loved my dad just as much as I hated him, Big John’s gone, I thought I lost John B.”

JJ hung his head, stopping to take a breath. “I guess I’m just scared that I’ll lose you, too,”

You chuckled a little. “You know, it’s funny, I wanted you to tell me you love me because I didn’t want to lose you. I thought that if you weren’t saying it, that meant that this wasn’t something you were invested in.”

“I’ve never been more invested in anything in my life,” JJ admitted.

You smiled. “I guess that’s all I need.”

“No,” JJ shook his head. “No, this time I’m going to say it. I love you, Y/N.”

You felt like crying all over again. “I love you, too,”

JJ took your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours. A gesture you returned, putting your hands on his chest and gripping his grey t-shirt tightly.

A thunk hit your window, causing the two of you to pull apart and turn your attention towards it.

“Oh, yeah,” JJ said, getting up and sticking his head out of the window. “We’re good, guys!”

Confused, you joined JJ at the window.

The twinkie was sitting in your driveway, passenger and side door open, with the rest of the pogues around it.

“Good,” John B. said. “We were starting to think she killed you.”

“Not yet, he’s still worth keeping around,” you said, jokingly.

“You guys coming down? We’re gonna go have a bonfire now.”

JJ smirked. “Nah, I think we’ve got some more apologizing to do, if you know what I mean.”

“JJ!” You said, shoving his shoulder and blushing furiously.

“Be safe!” Pope said.

“Use protection!” Kiara said.

“Don’t do anythin’ I wouldn’t do!” Cleo chimed in.

“I hate you all!” You said, disappearing back into your room.

JJ laughed, leaning back in and closing the window.

“Now,” he said. “Where were we?”

“I’d really like to start at ‘I love you’,” you said, smiling bashfully, sitting back on your bed.

JJ leaned forward on his hands that were on either side of you. “Well, then I love you,”

You were giddy inside. “Alright, let’s do this.”

JJ laughed as your wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned backwards on the bed, taking him with you.

Yeah, maybe love doesn’t only have to be said in words, but it’s nice to hear. And JJ would say it indefinitely more times, if only to see the smile it brought to your face.

[instantpansies]

taking psychic damage from sfth abigail again. why is she so compelling GAUGHHH. she is lady macbeth and ophelia and i feel SO pretentious to talk about her like that but!!! she is the one who encourages mark (husband) to get revenge, she's the one who pushes him forward and comes up with the plans. BUT ALSO he abandons her the moment revenge is in sight. doesn't even stop to think about her own desires or reasons or consent. she's behind him at every step of the way but he never turns around to look. aighwuahwa

she and mark have built their lives entirely around destroying the man who humiliated them when they were ten. they've pushed each other further and further into their obsession and centered their entire purpose around gaining back the glory they never really had in the first place. what, a kids' football team with a losing streak? they've completely lost sight of why they're even doing this.

i think abigail almost realizes. not quite though. she's still trying to support her husband as far as he goes, still convinced their cause is a worthy one. but she seems so absurdly lonely and unsatisfied, drowning in the chaos that no one else seems to question. what even is abigail? a vessel. an enabler. another constant reminder of the humiliation and defeat of thirty years ago.

but he loves her, right? yes, he's fucking the neighbor's wife to gain mythical football skills, but he loves her. he says he loves her. she couldn't leave now. not after everything they've worked for.....so she lets him go, of course. it's all about the raccoons.........

and in the end, she dies, swallowed by flames she couldn't have foreseen. mundane, accidental, offscreen - her death was entirely unimportant. (the fact that sam is the one who establishes she's dead. sam who plays her husband, not luke whose character would benefit - so obviously i'll extrapolate.) and mark doesn't even give it a second thought. she doesn't even live long enough to find out that all her efforts were wasted. the mythical football prowess doesn't even exist. they're fighting for plastic cutouts of bad memories, and in the end she sees them melt away in nothing but flames. she crumbles to ash as her husband misses goals across the street. there was never going to be anything for her.

i'm gonna be physically ill

[roostersgirlfriendlovesf1]

you're losing me | charles leclerc

prompt: charles has been off the past couple of weeks and all y/n wants to do is help him, but what can she do when he won't open up? it's tiring feeling alone, but it's hard to speak up. will charles finally let her in or will it be the end?

warnings: angst and sadness, but it ends up ok lol

a/n: hey guys! this is just a one part story, but i would really love some prompts. please feel free to request anything! i write for bradley bradshaw, lando norris, charles leclerc, mason mount, jake sersein, and christian pulisic. i also love using songs as inspo so pls feel free to use a song as a prompt! thanks for the support!

The past couple of weeks had been a game of if Charles would speak when he got home or not. The endless amounts of sympathy y/n gave him didn’t seem to open him up. She thought that perhaps he would let himself enjoy life over the summer break, but she doesn’t think he has even said four words to her. The past few days he had left early for runs, climbing out of bed and getting back into it without so much as a squeak of a floorboard. Nightly rituals between them had been forgotten.  This was only their third month… She thought. There were so many things left unsaid between them, things that she felt unimportant to tell him. Things she thought could be seen as coming off “too strong.” But she was extremely tired of feeling alone. She missed his arm around her as they watched the Monaco skies, she missed the smell of his hair after he showered, and she just missed the sound of his voice. Her clothes in his drawers dedicated to her started to feel misplaced. She felt like her presence started to feel like an intrusion. She was practically living with him, but it started to feel like she should be paying rent. 

y/n sat on a barstool, waiting for Charles to come back from running whatever errand he hadn’t told her about. Her head was in her hands as she stared lazily out the window, dark clouds were forming. Click. The door opened. She looked at him, urging him to speak. He looked at her, a quick glance before walking into their room. She heard the water start running in the shower. A tight feeling formed in her throat. How can he not see there’s a problem?  She placed her head in her hands and allowed herself to shed a few tears. A few minutes went by before the sound of footsteps interrupted her silence. She picked her head up. “Charlie?” She tries to get his attention. No answer. Nothing new. She’s not sure she even remembers what it sounds like when he says her name. A sigh leaves his mouth.

“Yes?”

“Where are you going?” She asked, just a simple question.

“Out to dinner.” He tied his shoes. 

Please just look at me. Please just see that there is something wrong. A brief moment of silence. “Somethings not working.” She bit her nails.

“I don’t understand.” He shook his head, dismissing her statement.

“I know you don’t.” Her brows furrowed. This can still be fixed. Everything we built can still stand. “Charles, you haven’t said four words to me since you’ve gotten home. Hell, you’ve barely talked to me for weeks. I don’t know what to do!”

“I don’t know what you're talking about.”

“You haven’t even touched me.” The room once filled with light felt cold and empty.

“Didn’t know you needed that validation.” He mumbled. 

“A hug is seen as validation? A fucking hug from someone I haven’t seen or spoken to because he won’t respond whether it’s in person or over the phone!” Just pull me into a hug now, all will be forgotten. Please just hold me. 

“I don’t have time for this right now.” Disappointment. 

“It's now or never. I’ve given you the best I have.” Tell me what to give after that. Her voice caught. She stood, feeling vulnerable in his sweatshirt and his sweatpants. Silence again. Silence that he was not willing to break. “Okay.” She nodded. “I’ll be out of here by the time you get home. I just-” She ran a hand through her hair, “I just need a bit to gather my things.” Guilt panged in her chest, the feeling of being an intruder tearing through her. She held her head high as she walked into their room, grabbing an empty box from beside the trash. 

“Y/n.” He stood in the doorframe. She willed herself to continue packing, despite her longing for his voice. “Y/n.”

“Enough!” She slammed the shirt she had started folding into the box. “Just go to dinner.”

“I didn’t fucking ask you to stay through anything!” He snapped. “I don’t need to see you or feel your embrace every time I come home from a shitty race weekend.”

“Good because it's never happening again! You won’t ever have to see me again after tonight.” The sound of thunder caused her to flinch. Charles’ face softened as he glanced out the window. 

“You can’t leave tonight.” He shook his head.

“I’ll do whatever I want.” She seethed. She kept her head down, making no eye contact. “You’ll do whatever you want tomorrow when the storm clears.” He stated. Y/n held her breath until she felt his presence dissolve. The sound of his footsteps led her to believe he went to his sim room. She shut the door quietly before breaking down. Her face felt burning hot as she rapidly shoved clothes into a random backpack. She frantically tried to collect herself before stepping back into the living room. She held a box in her arms as she struggled to open the apartment door. Rain poured as she sheltered under the overhang of the building. Her heart pounded, all she wanted to do was get out of his way. Y/n made a run for her car and quickly opened the trunk, shoving the box inside before slamming it closed and heading back inside. The lighting of the apartment was dark as the natural lighting was miniscule. Charles had moved to the couch, a solemn look in his eyes as he scrolled on his phone. He glanced up to see y/n drenched in rain. “Mon coeur…” He watched her as she ignored him and kept walking back to their room. He followed her, attempting to talk, but was quickly denied as she reached their bathroom and quickly locked the door. 

Y/n peeled off the wet clothes and glanced at herself in the mirror. A quick rush of feeling came back to her as she let out a sob, steadying herself on the sink counter. The coldness of the rain washed off of her as she bathed in the warmth of the shower, although the tears never ceased to flow. How does she pick up her life after this? The relationship was so public, that doesn’t just fizzle out. 

She walked into the bedroom, towel wrapped around her. Charles was sitting at the foot of the bed, feet planted, head in hands. She quietly grabbed her undergarments, a shirt, and a pair of sleep shorts from the bag she had packed earlier and retreated back into the bathroom. She never did that. Charles thought. She never hid herself away instead of doing something so intimate as changing her clothes in front of him. She changed in the bathroom and washed her face. Y/n opened the bathroom door slowly and noticed Charles in the same position. “I’m so embarrassed.” He spoke. 

“Now you talk…” She whispered. 

“I’m so fucking emberassed with myself I can’t stand it.” He held the end of the sleeves of his sweater in his hands. “I know I don’t deserve you and I know I’ve treated you horribly. There’s no excuse.” He kept his composure. “My team is just so-so aggravating and for a while I viewed you as my escape from all that, but the more interested in me you got and the more you wanted to know the more I grew embarrassed. I’m embarrassed with my performance in the car and I’m embarrassed for you to see that I’m undeserving of you. I never wanted to tear you down with me though.”

Her mouth opened to speak, but her body moved first. She sat down next to him and pulled him into a hug. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“Me too.” She kissed the side of his face.

“I love you.” He brushed the wet hair off of her face. “And I really don’t want you to leave.”