#he frustrates the hell out of me but he's real interesting

[samaraxmorgan]

Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time His Older Brother Gave Him A Tarot Reading”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: brothers au, pure fluff, reader is not present, Sukuna is pining hard

Word Count: 1.26k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Sukuna isn’t one to make time for his family. Although he has an identical twin brother who bothers him far too much for his liking and an older half brother, he almost never talks about them and spends even less time talking too them. But today he was feeling nice… which is strange for him, but regardless, he decided to agree to come by his brothers’ apartment.

And was quickly reminded of why he never comes over.

Sukuna was seated on the antique couch while Choso kneeled in front of the coffee table between them, flickering candles on every surface bathing the living room in a soft warm glow and reflecting on the shiny surfaces of the crystals placed meticulously all over the table. Choso opened up a small black box, pulling intricately designed tarot cards from inside and fanning them between his fingers before spreading them face down across the table.

Sukuna really was trying not to roll his eyes at the whole ordeal, but the man can only take so much before he’s bound to cave, “This is so stupid.”

“Shh…” Choso leans forward and presses his finger over Sukuna’s lips.

“Don’t touch me.” He grumbles.

“Shut up,” Choso loses his calm demeanor for only a second before he’s closing his eyes again, “I’m focusing.”

“On what?”

“I’m tuning in…” He wiggles his fingers over the cards, “to the energies.”

“Jesus fucking christ.” Sukuna rubs his temples, “When did you start doing this witchcraft shit again?”

“Not witchcraft,” Choso peeks one eye open to shoot a quick glare at his brother, “And yesterday.”

“Oh you’re a real professional huh?” He smirks down at him.

“Sukuna,” His shoulders slump and he lets out a frustrated huff, “Just, fucking shut up.”

The two of them squint as the lights suddenly flick on, Yuuji not quite getting the memo of what’s going on downstairs as he leans his head over the stair railing to peek into the living room, “Ooh, how’s the satanic ritual going?” He calls out from the stairway.

“Yuuji!” The two of them call out in unison. He lets out a little “Oops” and flicks the light back off, running back to his room upstairs.

Choso rubs his eyes, smudging his eyeliner onto his fingers, “Okay just, pick a card.”

Sukuna huffs out an annoyed breath, reaching forward and tapping his pointer finger on one of the cards in the middle. Choso slides the card down in front of Sukuna and flips it over, revealing an upside down picture of a man sitting upright in a bed with his head in his hands and swords neatly stacked on the wall behind him.

“Oh, interesting.” Choso mumbles.

“The fuck is he crying about?” Sukuna leans down and squints at the card on the table, “It’s upside down.”

“It’s reversed,” Choso clarifies, “The nine of swords reversed.”

“Choso, I don’t know what the hell that means.”

The long haired man sits up a little straighter, pointing at the card with a manicured finger, “This first card is your past. The next will be the present, and the last will be your future.” He picks the card up and scans it carefully, “You were… struggling, alone, not one to talk to others even when you need to-“

“What is this fuckin’ therapy?”

Choso groans and rolls his eyes, “God knows you need it, but no. Anyway,” He clears his throat, “You were in a downward spiral, but this is past tense, clearly you’re more open now considering,” He gestures vaguely around the room, “Well, you’re here for once.”

Sukuna is visibly annoyed, not a fan of being picked and prodded at. Choso places the card back down on the table, gesturing for Sukuna to pick another one, which to Choso’s surprise and for Sukuna’s morbid curiosity, he does; tapping his finger on a card pushed to the side of the table.

Choso flips the card over, and once again, it's upside down. It pictures a man sitting cross crossed in front of a tree, three golden goblets on the grass in front of him and a fourth being given to him from a disembodied hand floating next to him.

He’s really fuckin’ bad at organizing his cards.

Choso’s gaze flickers between Sukuna and the card, his brows furrowed in thought so clearly that you could almost see cogs turning behind his eyes, “Four of cups… reversed.”

“The hell does reversed mean?”

“It’s usually a negative version of the card’s meaning.”

Sukuna scoffs, “Oh fuckin’ lovely.”

Choso props his elbow onto the table, tracing the outline of the card with his finger, “You’re withdrawing-“

“Well yeah. No shit,” Sukuna cuts him off, “You’re telling me I’m cursed. What’s the damn card mean?”

“That is what the card means, idiot. You’re reluctant to open up to someone.”

Sukuna leans back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest, “Who?”

“I don’t know,” Choso shrugs, “Maybe the future card will clarify.”

“Absolutely not.” He huffs. Choso looks up at him with confusion, “I told you this was stupid, I’m not picking another.”

The light flicks on once again, Sukuna groans at the sound of Yuuji’s voice yelling from the stairway, “Sounds like someone’s a fucking pussy!”

“Yuuji, quit eavesdropping or I’ll gouge your fucking eyes out.”

The light flicks back off.

Choso looks up at Sukuna expectantly, and after glaring down at him for a moment he breaks, rolling his eyes and flipping over a random card, “If it’s upside down I swear to fucking god-“

“Oh shit!”

“What?” Sukuna sounds almost startled, looking down at the card he sees that this one is upright; picturing a naked man and woman standing in front of some kind of angel. But he’s quickly able to gather the most damning part of the card.

The bottom of the card says “The Lovers.”

“Oh fuck off.”

A smile spreads across Choso’s face, “I don’t think I need to explain this one to you. And it’s not upside down.”

“Reversed.” Sukuna mockingly clarifies.

“Shut up,” Choso leans forward, grin still plastered on his lips, “Who is it?”

“It’s nobody, this shit isn’t real.” Sukuna scowls, but deep down he’s glad the room is so dark to hide the tint in his cheeks.

It’s not fucking real idiot. Stop it.

“How about this,” Choso clasps his hands together, looking up towards the ceiling, “If this shit is real, give us a sign.”

Yuuji flickers the lights.

“No! Stop interfering, this is serious!” Choso yells out towards the stairway.

But Sukuna’s blood runs cold as his phone buzzes in his pocket, quiet enough that no one could hear, but he could feel it.

It’s not real.

The room is silent for a moment as Choso scans for any type of sign, but it’s as if the world had completely stopped turning, not even the candles were flickering. Choso plops his head onto the coffee table, mumbling under his breath, “I don’t know why I thought that would work.”

“Mhm.” Sukuna hums, putting up a disinterested front as he pulls his phone from his pocket, “Can we watch a movie or something now like a normal family?”

Choso defeatedly blows out the candles, collecting his crystals and placing his tarot cards neatly back into the box, “Fine, fine, but I still think it’s real.”

Sukuna’s heart nearly stops beating when he unlocks his phone and sees a text from you, “If u leave dirty dishes in the sink one more time I’m actually gonna kill u in your sleep.”

God I hope it’s fucking real.

A/N: Family bonding time has never been so awkward, anyway here’s that time Sukuna started to believe in magic, or witchcraft, or anything if it means you like him as much as he likes you. Dividers by @adornedwithlight

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[shybluebirdninja]

Snikt Happens

Summary: During a romantic evening, Logan accidentally shreds the condom mid-make-out.

Pairing            : Logan Howlett x Wife!Human-reader

Note                : Fluff, suggestive themes

The evening had been perfect. Logan had gone all out — dinner, candles, the works. Which, for someone like Logan, meant a little whiskey, a perfectly cooked steak, and a slightly suspicious grin on his rugged face. You knew exactly where the night was heading, and you were more than ready.

Things started off slow, as they always did with him, all soft grumbles and the occasional rough kiss. Logan was intense, like usual, and you loved that. He had you pressed against him, his lips moving from your neck down your collarbone, when suddenly—

Snikt.

You both froze. His claws. His damn claws had popped out.

Logan groaned, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. “Shit.”

You couldn’t help it — you burst out laughing, your chest shaking with amusement. “Seriously? You shredded it?” you asked between laughs, half wondering if this could possibly be real.

Logan lifted his head, glaring at the ruined condom in his hand. The thing was in tatters, like it had been through a paper shredder. He looked about as grumpy as a guy could get.

“Dammit, babe, I didn’t even feel it happen. One second I’m fine, and the next—” He gestured at his hand, claws still out. “There goes our fuckin’ evening.”

You snorted, still laughing way too hard for the situation. “You mean our evening just got more interesting.” You shot him a mischievous grin. “C’mon, let’s find a backup. No way that was the only one.”

Logan sighed, retracting his claws with a snikt and rolling his eyes. “Babe, I’m too damn old to be running around a cabin lookin’ for backup condoms. Ain’t there better ways to spend the night?”

He made a half-hearted attempt to pull you back in, his hands sliding around your waist, but you were already slipping off the bed, grabbing a robe. “Too old, huh? Well, considering we need one of those—”

Logan cut you off, his voice dropping low and gruff, “We don’t need anything, darlin’. I’ll be careful, promise.” There was that infamous smirk of his, but you weren’t buying it.

“Yeah, no,” you shot back, already heading for the dresser. “You’re not pulling that ‘I’ll be careful’ crap tonight. Get up and help me find another one before we’re both too annoyed for this.”

Logan groaned again, but this time, he dragged himself off the bed, muttering under his breath. “Bet ya never see Cap dealing with this shit.” His voice was a low grumble as he started digging through the drawer on his side of the bed. “Where the hell did I put the damn things…”

You giggled, sifting through random stuff in his cabin’s nightstand. Some old cigars, a pocket knife, a small bottle of whiskey—typical Logan. But no condoms.

“I swear to God,” he mumbled from the other side, “if I can’t find another one, we’re gonna have a talk about alternatives.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Alternatives?”

He stood up straight, crossing his arms, the definition of grumpy but sexy as hell. “Yeah, babe. I’m sayin’ I can pull out. Or, ya know…” He gestured vaguely toward your chest. “Finish elsewhere. Ain’t the end of the world.”

You burst out laughing again, trying to catch your breath. “Logan, you really think that’s gonna fly right now?”

Logan huffed, clearly unimpressed with your reaction, though his lips twitched into a half-smile. “Just sayin’. Seems a lot simpler than scroungin’ around like idiots.”

You shook your head, still chuckling. “Uh-huh. Just keep looking, tough guy.”

About ten minutes later, Logan was rooting through his closet, now thoroughly pissed off and frustrated. You, on the other hand, were having the time of your life watching him try to stay calm.

“Found one!” he suddenly called, holding up a small foil packet triumphantly. You turned, half expecting it to be another regular condom, but when you got closer, you noticed the packaging.

Glow-in-the-dark. Mint-flavored.

You blinked, staring at the condom in disbelief. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Logan’s face turned red — an actual blush creeping up his neck. “I, uh… forgot I had these.”

You doubled over laughing. “Mint-flavored? Glow-in-the-dark? What were you planning with these?”

“Hey, I don’t ask you about your weird shit,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, it was a gag gift from Jubilee, alright? Can we not make this a thing?”

You snatched the condom from his hand, waving it in front of him. “This is absolutely a thing now. There’s no way we’re not using this.”

Logan groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Goddamn it.”

“Come on, Logan,” you teased, slipping back toward the bed with the packet in hand. “You’ve been through worse. This? This is nothing.”

He grumbled but followed, eyes narrowed. “For the record, this is ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous,” you agreed, tearing open the packet with a wicked grin. “But also way too good to pass up.”

Logan shook his head, crawling back onto the bed beside you. “I’m too old for this shit.”

You smirked, leaning in to kiss him softly. “Maybe. But you sure seem to be enjoying it.”

His lips twitched, and despite the grumbling, Logan finally cracked a smile. “Yeah, well. You make it hard not to.”

[niningtori]

i know it's over | oneshot

pairing(s): choi beomgyu x you, kang taehyun x you

summary: you love beomgyu — you truly do — you just wish he loved you back, but after a particularly humiliating night in which he shows you just how little he cares, you finally decide enough is enough. enter kang taehyun, a sweet boy who's the polar opposite of beomgyu; but while you begin to develop your relationship with him, beomgyu realizes exactly what he's missing.

genre: ANGST, romance, hurt/comfort, fluff at the end

warnings: toxic relationships

word count: 7.3k

notes: repost/rewrite of one of my first works (formerly titled: to know him is to love him, and i do) THERE WILL BE AN ALTERNATE ENDING (edit: jk no there won't be), YES the best friend's little brother!beomgyu au won the poll but i'm so hesitant to post it because i hate it so i thought i'd post this for now until i'm able to edit the other work enough to where it's not an actual eyesore.

you're tired. really tired. exhausted, even, as you stalk through the doorway of beomgyu's apartment. you practically tear off your coat, letting it land harshly on the living room floor with a slight thud. beomgyu rolls his eyes and picks it up with a sigh before hanging it up on the rack.

"i told you it was nothing. why are you freaking out?" he asks flatly.

"she was fucking you with her eyes, beomgyu!" you exclaim in frustration.

"and that's my fault how?"

"it's not your fault, but i'm sick of you entertaining women, let alone your actual fucking ex, while i'm standing right next to you!" his ex is just another fish in the barrel, or at least that's what he says, but the thought that they were intimate together at one point still makes you feel sick. truthfully, your boyfriend is handsome, so you've spent the better part of the past 10 months warding off the women who circle him like vultures. you wouldn't mind as much as you do if he seemed at all interested in helping you do so, especially when faced with his ex that you suspect he still has feelings for, but he does not. quite the opposite, actually. it's like he thrives off of the attention and, god, it hurts. 

"i'm not entertaining anybody. i told her i have a girlfriend now," he, well, you would say argues, but it's said so nonchalantly it doesn't warrant the term. 

"a girlfriend you proceeded to ignore while she hung off of your shoulders and laughed all night! i just don't understand how you don't understand how much it hurts my feelings. i'm a human, too! how would you feel if my ex, who was very clearly interested in me, hung around me right in front of you?" and it's like you're explaining empathy to a child. 

"me? i wouldn't give a fuck because it's not that serious," he replies with a slightly irritated shake of his head. 

it's always like this. always. you're always the one who cares more between the two of you. you were the one who asked him out in the first place. you were the one who initiated your first kiss. your first fight. hell, even your first reconciliation. you're not stupid, you know he doesn't feel quite the same way you do, but he has to feel something, right? otherwise, why would he say yes to you when he's rejected so many other women? your brain hurts trying to wrap your head around it all.

 "you're missing the point! if you were me, you would—" you begin frustratedly, but you cut yourself off. "you know what? i don't even have the energy to explain this to you. i don't understand why i have to explain basic human emotion to you, and i really don't understand why i have to beg and plead for you to care about how i feel!" you all but shriek.  

"you don't have to do shit, just leave if you're that fucking unhappy," he spits out angrily, which is the first real emotion — besides mild annoyance —  you've seen out of him this entire conversation. he gets impatient when you're like this, which usually results in you relenting, but not tonight. you're far too hurt to let go so easily.

"you're right! i am unhappy! i just — why don't you care that i'm unhappy? what can i do to make you give a fuck about me?" you have a brave face on but you can feel your eyes getting hot and your voice trembling ever so slightly. 

"you could try not being so damn needy, maybe that'd help."

your eyes redden even further and your lips unintentionally twist themselves into a sour frown. you hate it when he calls you needy because you do need a lot from him, it feels like. his time. his care. his attention and affection. yet you never seem to get it.

"do you not love me? like at all?" you ask. all of the venom in your tone has been sucked out mercilessly and you sound more helpless than angry.

"do you not realize how fucking crazy you sound?" he scoffs as if he can't fathom why you'd be upset. as if he's not watching you break down in real time. 

"why won't you give me a straight answer?" you question, voice softer than it was before.

he does nothing but scowl, and that's enough of an answer as it stands. he doesn't care. never has. probably never will. 

"then why'd you even say yes to dating me?" you truly don't understand. you thought you were different. you thought he saw something in you he didn't see in his harem of other suitors, and trust that there were many.  

"i dunno. i was just bored, i guess," he answers with a shrug and your world as you know it collapses. the man you love sees you as nothing more than a way to kill time. he's picking you up right now just to toss you away when the next shiny toy presents itself, and so far, you've let him drag you around because you love him — that's how much you love him — but looking at him now, at how unbothered he is, you wonder if you've even got anything left to give.

"i really do love you," you manage to squeeze out with a bitter smile. your poor heart is on display for the naked eye to see, and it seems like he really couldn't care less, but that won't stop you from asking: "does that mean anything at all to you?" 

"well, i'm sorry you feel that way," he says simply, "but that's not my fucking problem."

your heart sinks to your stomach and you feel like you're going to throw up. in this moment, as you watch the love of your life dismiss you like you're a fucking dog begging for scraps of food, you feel an overwhelming sense of clarity as you realize he doesn't love you. he doesn't even like you. he probably hates you, actually. like a mental montage, every moment in which he showed you that exact sentiment plays all at once in your head.

all those times you let him choose everything from movies to dinner because the idea of a compromise was inconceivable. all of those occasions, special and otherwise, where you were supposed to go out on a date, but he'd bail without a word and you'd forgive him with no apology. even something as menial as when you'd offer him your share of dessert because he ate all of his and you knew he wanted more, and he'd take it without so much as a thank you. how you'd sit and listen to him tell stories about how amazing his friends were, but he'd never even ask about your day. when those same friends would jokingly call you the perfect girlfriend, and you thought it was an indication of how good your relationship was, but in reality, it was a way to tease him because the thought of actually being with you was so abhorrent and ridiculous that it must be a joke. nobody likes a desperate girl, after all. all those times you told him you loved him and he'd just smile and kiss you deeper. memories like these flood your brain with a vengeance so cruel it makes your head ache, and in a way, you realize it's ridiculous to be surprised when there was so much proof of his feelings in the first place.  

"oh. okay," you say with what you hope is a soft and unbothered laugh, but comes out more as a choked one. "i guess there's nothing left to say. i'll get my shit and go." 

you hesitate for a few excruciatingly awkward moments before collecting yourself enough to start gathering your things, which are scattered haphazardly around his apartment from his bedroom to his bathroom. it's like a walk of shame, almost, and you feel even shittier when he plops down on the couch with a long suffering sigh as he begins to massage the bridge of his nose. you feel so small in this moment — like a petulant child who just got done throwing an unsuccessful tantrum — and you're now soaking in the sobering aftermath and sitting with the thought that he just watched you have a meltdown like he was watching a monkey putting on a show. how much more is he going to humiliate you? enough is enough, you think, so before you can actually finish collecting all of your belongings, you're scurrying out of the apartment. before you go, you glance back at him one last time. 

"beomgyu?" you ask tentatively, tears clouding your eyes. 

"yeah?" he replies with a sigh. this is it, you think.

"i don't want to see you ever again," you say firmly. before he can reply, if he ever intended to in the first place, you slam the door. 

-

there's a lot to love about beomgyu. for one, he's handsome, which is obvious, but he has a certain allure you could never help but be drawn in by. he's always been a charming man, but even more so when he's talking to a woman he's interested in. as interested as he could be, that is. he's funny and comically pompous when he wants to be, but still somehow down to earth despite it all. 

he's been described as a mood-maker, and while he grew to resent that term, you thought it was at least partially true, if only in the context of your relationship. when he's sad, you're devastated. when he's happy, you're over the fucking moon. his feelings are your whole world — or were, you guess, since all that's over now.

it wasn't all bad all the time, you think. there were times where you thought he really might reciprocate even a fraction of what you felt for him, and most of the time, that was enough. you could work with that. love looks different for everyone, you would reason. maybe he just had a funny way of showing it. 

there were days where you'd laugh together and end the night lying in each other's arms while you'd cradle him like he was the most precious thing in the whole world because, to you, he really was. he was normally so boisterous when with his friends, but while he would never admit it to anyone else, he'd tell you about some of his insecurities while you gently combed your fingers through his long, silky hair. he'd speak of regrets and longing for people to take him more seriously. he'd never say it, but he wanted people to see you like you saw him. the real him. you'd let him cry while your hands cupped his cheeks and you'd shush him while he fiddled mindlessly with your hair like a child. you'd kiss the tip of his reddened nose until he laughed instead of cried. times like those, you'd really think you were someone special to him, but now you realize you were wrong. you were just an outlet for him, and anyone willing to be an emotional dumping ground would do the trick, too.

after a few weeks of moping, your sadness has begun to morph into anger and resentment. you spent nearly a year of your life trying to make an emotionally stunted man care about you, and that's not even counting the years of pining over him before you finally worked up the courage to ask him out. it was difficult to see it in the moment, but after being away from him for so long, it's crystal clear that he was honestly just an asshole who didn't really like you. nothing more, nothing less. maybe he'd find someone to change for someday, maybe he'd even work things out with his ex, but for whatever reason, you weren't her. that's just the way it goes, you guess. what really bothers you are the "what if's" of the situation. what if you were prettier, or smarter, or kinder; would he have seen you for who you really are? would he have grown to appreciate you if you had given him more to appreciate? 

either way, there's no use crying over spilled milk now. you won't be going back to him any time soon, and he certainly won't come crawling back to you. you'll continue to think of him less and less until your time together fades into a distant (and unpleasant) memory. you smile at the thought.

-

the first time beomgyu realizes just how impactful your absence is, nothing in particular happens. it's a regular tuesday night a week or so after your "breakup" and he's bored out of his mind. he showers, listens to music, texts his friends and makes himself dinner, but something is missing. 

as he sits on his couch, he realizes what it is: you. right about now, you should be pestering him to hang out and showing up on his doorstep to watch a movie. he'd roll his eyes at first, but eventually relent as long as he got to pick the movie, of course. he wouldn't say it, but he'd actually enjoy glancing over and seeing your reactions. you were comically expressive and every twist and turn of the plot had your eyes bulging and mouth agape, turning to him for confirmation that he was seeing the same things you were. when you watched inception for the first time, it absolutely rocked your world.

he's alone, but he puts on a movie, anyway. every so often, his head turns to the side with the corner of his mouth raised, but you're not there to give a reaction. he should be used to your absence by the third twist, but he still finds himself subconsciously turning to you throughout the rest of the movie. when the credits roll, he's half expecting to hear you chatter on about how crazy it was, but it's silent. the only time that would happen would be when you'd accidentally drift off in spite of how engrossed you were. you'd try to fight it off like a stubborn kid, but would succumb by the final act. he smiles at the memory before shaking his head in disbelief. what's wrong with him? 

moments like these plague him more and more frequently, but the most notable one is the night before his first day at a new job. he briefly talks to his friends about his excitement, but he's too embarrassed to divulge just how anxious he is. times like this, he'd come over and complain for however long he needed. you'd sit and nod, asking questions during his pauses to encourage him to continue, always adding appropriate and thoughtful commentary. 

his thoughts wander to how you're doing alone. you really love him, it seems, so he can only imagine how you're faring without him. he wishes you hadn't blocked his number so he could at least ask how you are. maybe you'd even tell him you miss him. not for the first time, he begins to wonder if he pushed you too far this time around. you've gotten angry and given him the silent treatment before, sure, but you've never blocked him and you've certainly never done it for so long. 

he looks you up on instagram for the first time since your breakup. he's not terribly surprised when he sees he's blocked on there too, but all it takes is a switch to his photography account, which you had forgotten to block, to see what you're up to now. 

the first thing he notices is a picture of you sitting outside with an ice cream cone in hand, sun encircling you. your smile is beaming and your eyes are crinkled and he can almost hear your giggle through the screen. the caption reads "ice cream date with my best friend!”

he scrambles through his memories to try to remember a time in recent history when you two did something similar, but he comes up blank. what he does recall, though, is you mentioning a new frozen yogurt place you wanted to visit with him for your birthday. he nodded in response, but he knew he wouldn't go with you, opting instead to get shitfaced with his friends. in retrospect, maybe you knew it, too. he had checked his phone the next morning and saw he had at least half a dozen missed calls and well over a dozen texts from you. when he finally texted you back, you took almost a full 5 hours to respond, which was uncommon. usually, you'd text back within minutes. it occurred to him later on that that was your version of the silent treatment, and it amused him that you could only hold out for a few hours. he honestly found it kind of cute. 

he remembers what you did for his birthday. how you had secretly invited his friends over to his apartment to surprise him after an especially shitty day at work. he came home to an elaborately decorated apartment and all of his favorite people greeting him. he remembers how happy you looked when he opened up your present to him, which was the guitar he had always secretly wanted but could never quite justify buying for himself. you were so excited, any spectator would think he had gotten you the gift of your dreams and not the other way around. you were practically buzzing with excitement when he pulled you in for a kiss. his friends had whooped at the display of affection, and you giggled shyly at their reaction. what did he get you for your birthday again? anything?

he spends days pondering over this and similar circumstances, which eventually turn into weeks upon weeks. what starts as a nagging feeling that he may have gone too far in his neglect for you becomes guilt and anxiety. he recalls just how torn up you seemed the last time he saw you. to be honest, at the time, he was mostly just irritated. but he never thought you'd actually leave. all he can see is that awful look on your face when you finally ended everything, and all he can remember is the fact that he put it there. he knows in his heart that he has no right to feel this way, but he feels it all the same. 

-

you would have never imagined you'd actually like somebody other than beomgyu, but taehyun makes it as easy as possible given the sticky circumstances. you met at a club your best friend dragged you to, both you and taehyun had to remain sober (designated drivers, of course) and ended up having a surprisingly engaging conversation amidst the blaring music and strobe lights. after that, the rest is history. 

he can tell you've been hurt before, but he gently coaxes you into opening up as you spend more and more time with him. you're afraid of being overbearing and coming across as a lovesick puppy again, but taehyun is gentle and seems to enjoy your attention and affection, even if he's a surface level tsundere. more than that, he actually reciprocates it. 

do you still think about beomgyu? of course. do you miss him? well, you'd never admit it to a single soul, but the way you see him in everything has to be an indicator that you do. it's getting better, though. more bearable. 

a month or so into your relationship, you post about taehyun for the first time. you don't know why you're so nervous about announcing to the world that you have a boyfriend again, but happiness overwhelms your fear when you're met with nothing but positivity. 

-

beomgyu is shellshocked, to put it mildly. the picture of you and your so-called boyfriend is sickly sweet. it's not over the top or anything—just a candid of you in a café holding hands with him while looking over the same menu. the caption is nothing other than a heart and squirrel emoji (why?) and both he and your best friend are tagged. his finger jumps to the boy's profile and he sees the same photo. he scoffs at the cheesiness of it all, but his heart aches at the way all of your friends have commented on the post expressing their happiness for you — they had never approved of him for reasons he's only now beginning to understand.

you always defended him in front of your friends no matter what he did or didn't do. you'd "comfort" him after your friends said something snarky and explain that they just didn't understand him. you'd say that if they knew the real him, they'd see him differently. at the time, he'd scoff and say something along the lines of "i don't need for them to see me differently because i couldn't give less of a fuck about what they think”. you'd be hurt, of course you would be, but you'd never say so.

more and more, like an outsider looking in, he can see just how awful he was to you. it's to his horror that he realizes this must be the case for you, too. the chances of you getting back together with him seem slimmer and slimmer, especially now that you've got that pretty boy on your arm. your words echo in his mind as if to haunt him: "what can i do to make you give a fuck about me?" leave, apparently, and don't look back. 

he can't keep living like this. 

-

a knock on your door is all it takes to ruin your night — you had actually had a really good day up until now. you and taehyun had gone on a breakfast date and napped together until he had to leave in the afternoon, so you're humming now in contentment while applying your nightly skincare, thinking relentlessly about the boy you think you might be starting to love. it feels different from the love you felt for beomgyu, but in a good way. you still think about him and wonder how he's doing, but you always derail that train of thought with a god-given force previously unknown to you. he doesn't care about you, you chant to yourself — it's almost like your daily mantra. in the midst of your thoughts, you hear a knock on the door. you smile widely when you surmise that it's probably taehyun again. you don't realize just how big your grin is until it drops. 

standing before you is not your lovely boyfriend, but the man who made you question whether or not you were even lovable in the first place. he has a small smile on his face, and if you were to look a little more carefully, you'd notice that he actually seems a little nervous. 

"hi," he says, breaking the silence. his heart is racing a mile a minute, and potential scenarios battered his mind the entire way here. what would you do when you saw him? smile? he could handle that. cry? he could also handle that, even if he didn't want to see your tears. what he is not prepared for is the blankness of your features when you ask: 

"what are you doing here?" 

his smile falters almost imperceptibly.

"i, uh, i just wanted to see you." you're merciful enough to give him a nod of encouragement to continue. "a-and i wanted to tell you that i haven't stopped thinking about you for the past few months, and that i, um, i think i'm finally ready to be with you," he finishes with a shaky breath.

you're quiet for a moment and squint your eyes as if you're deep in thought.

"but i thought you were dating someone now? your ex?"

"i'm not!" he says almost a little too quickly.

"i heard you were," you counter, not quite believing him. you heard he had been seeing his ex from one of your friends who happened to live in her apartment complex. she had seen his car in the parking lot a few times in the last couple of weeks and had no reason to lie to you.

"w-well, i've seen her a few times, but not seriously. i — to be honest, i was just trying to get over you, but i've finally realized that i can't becau—"

"so, just to make sure i understand, you're not over me so you're seeing her?" his eyes widen in shock before his head hangs in shame as he realizes exactly what he's done and how he must look to you right about now, but you're not finished. "isn't that what you were doing with me?" your voice is low and indifferent, but each word feels tailor-made to slash at his heart. "wow, i guess some things really never change, but don't worry, i'm sure once she moves on, you'll finally see the good in her instead of me," you spit out.

"can you listen to me? please?" beomgyu is so ashamed he wants to die. he fumbles for the right words, but when he accidentally makes eye contact with you, they die on his lips. he wishes you would give him time to process what you're saying and mull over what to respond with because you always knew he was bad with words, but he supposes he lost the right to your patience a long time ago.

"you want me to listen to you so you can fuck with my head until the next person rolls around?" the latter words are strangled by the tightness in your throat, and he can't help but wince. when he thinks it's over, you continue. 

"nobody has ever made me feel as small as you have. i hated myself because of you," your lip trembles and before he can say a word, you're raising your hand to shut the door.

"wait, wait, wait! just let me say this," he pleads as he gently grasps the doorframe. "i... i love you." he almost thinks he hears you gasp, but he's too busy looking into your unreadable eyes to know for sure. he has never said anything like this to you before. you're completely silent for a few moments before breaking the tense atmosphere.

"j-jesus, i mean, i guess i just don't know what to say," you sputter and his eyes alight with what looks suspiciously like hope. "except maybe that... i'm sorry you feel that way?" you finish with a sardonic smile and a roll of your eyes. before he can respond, which he actually intends to do this time around, you slam the door in his face.

-

if you were to ask beomgyu if he loved his ex mere months ago, he'd say he didn't know for sure, but probably. they ended things rather messily, which seems to be a trend for him, but if he really thinks about it, he doesn't know what he liked about her after all. if he had to pinpoint it, he liked the thrill of the chase and the idea of never knowing how explosive things would inevitably get between the two of them. he liked the toxicity. only now does he understand that that wasn't love at all, but some sort of sick game of hurting and being hurt he doesn't want to play anymore. he doesn't want to hurt the people around him, especially not you, but it would appear that that sentiment has presented itself a little too late. 

there's always been a lot to love about you. always. you're so kind and so incredibly patient, at least with the people you love. you're thoughtful and intentional with your words and actions. you're not perfect, but you try your best to be a good and fair person. and you listen. like, really listen. the kind of listening where you're not just waiting for your turn to talk, but the kind where you genuinely want to know what the other person has to say. even if he didn't know it at the time, beomgyu always did love you. was it in the way you deserved? obviously, with the way things are now, it's perfectly clear it was not. 

even if he does bump into you, it's completely pointless. you made it perfectly clear that you want nothing to do with him. the last thing you said to him echoes in his head with an unspeakable viciousness. 

"i'm sorry you feel that way." he didn't realize just how cruel those words were until they were falling from your lips instead of his. he didn't realize just how cruel he was in general. 

he ponders over how succinctly you summed up your entire dynamic:

"i don't understand why i have to explain basic human emotion to you, and i really don't understand why i have to beg and plead for you to care about how i feel!" to be honest? he doesn't understand why you had to do that, either. 

contrary to what one might suppose about him given his overall shitty personality, he had actually had a pretty good go at life. he was innately able to make the world sit and watch him go, and he wouldn't let anyone forget it. but what should he do since you don't want to watch him anymore? what should he do since you don't want anything to do with him anymore? 

as he sits in the extremely uncomfortable chair of his new least favorite bar, he's confronted by this truth over and over again. he's not completely sure why he's even here — he hates this place, but he remembers you mentioning you liked to come here. in hindsight, there's no doubt that that was a way to hint that you'd like to come with him, but what use is it to recognize it now, after all this time? 

not much, apparently. or at least that's what his conscience is telling him. he should leave, he thinks. he should stop coming here every night hoping he'll run into you because it's wrong to make you uncomfortable when you've said in no uncertain terms that you don't want him anymore. he should, he should, he should. and he will, really. in just a minute. that's what he tells himself, but he just watches the door as he gets drunker and drunker, still.

he's on the brink of literally passing out when he hears a sound he'd recognize anywhere: your laugh. he actually thinks he's hallucinating just because he wants to hear it so fucking badly, but it takes the sound of your voice to convince him it's real. you're actually here. he's incredibly drunk, so the idea of being tactful escapes him. he can't miss this chance.

-

you try, and try, and try some more, but you can't seem to forget beomgyu's last words to you. he loves you? you scoff at the idea. does he even know what love is? it doesn't feel like it —  truly, it doesn't. if that's what his love feels like, you'd rather not feel it at all. 

that's what you keep trying to hammer into your head along with the idea that you're doing well, and you are doing well. seriously. things with taehyun are better than ever and you can really see yourself building a life with him. everything feels so pure and brand new. your feelings for him may lack the intensity that you felt with beomgyu, but that was years in the making, so it's only fair that you nurture the love that's blossoming between the two of you while smothering out the embers of what used to be with beomgyu. it's only right, right? it should be, but the way you're so torn makes your head spin.

so you decide to go to your favorite bar and forget about everything for the night. it's been a long while since you've let loose, and you're excited. you're surrounded by your friends and you're ready to let go. it's only when you excuse yourself to get some fresh air that you realize fate has other plans. 

when you're walking to the curb to take a seat, you feel a tug on your elbow and whip around. 

"who —" you stop dead in your tracks as your eyes meet with beomgyu's misty ones. the ones you used to love so much. 

"hey," he says weakly.

"what do you want?" you seethe while harshly yanking your elbow from his grasp. his lips purse and even in the dim lighting outside of the bar, you can see his eyes water even more. he's always been such a baby when he's drunk. 

"i just wanna talk," he pleads. he sounds so out of it and looks so pathetic you almost feel bad for him. almost.

"i have nothing to say to you," you reply coldly. 

"but i do." he sounds desperate to a degree that you sincerely never thought you'd hear.

"what, are you gonna tell me you love me again?" you retort with a roll of your eyes. you're obviously being sarcastic, but all he can think in his drunken state is how pretty your eyes shine even when they're impatient to look away from him.

"if you're not gonna say anything, i'm leaving," you snap, turning away, but beomgyu is awoken from his daze and gently pulls you back.

"n-no! i mean, yes. i love you, b-but that's not what i wanted to say."

"well, what did you want to say?" you ask, tone laced with annoyance. 

seeing that you'll actually give him a chance to hear him out, he scrambles for a moment before clearing his throat. he’s so anxious that you can see his hands shaking as he wrings them.

"i just want to tell you that i’m sorry. i know i’ve said it before, but i want you to hear it again, and i’ll tell you as many times as it takes for you to believe me. i want to make it up to you — i really do — and i know that i can change. i'm — i just miss you so much i can't stand it. i-if you don’t feel the same way, or don’t care, or however it is, i understand; but i meant it when i said i love you, and i mean it now when i say that i'm so, so fucking sorry," his voice cracks as he finishes and hot tears threaten to find their way down his face. 

"beomgyu..." you begin, not really sure what to say. what is there to say? and any hope he has of being with you is almost extinguished when he sees how much you pity him in this moment, but he'll hold on for as long as you'll let him.

"you said you saw the real me. you know i'm not all bad, right? i'm a piece of shit, but i can't be all bad," he pleads, tears now streaming unabashedly from his eyes. maybe if he can just find the right words, you won't leave him.

"beomgyu," you sigh, "i've never thought that about you. i know you're not all bad," his face perks up at this and he's tempted to bury his face in your neck and sob in pure relief. the pain he's been feeling for the past few months is about to be over because you understand him. always have. even though he's like this, you can still see the good in him. just the thought alone is enough to fill him with pure ecstasy. he goes to close the distance between the two of you to pull you into his embrace, but you gently place your hand on his chest before he can come any closer.

"thank you for telling me how you feel, beomgyu, but if you think you can fix everything with a few words, you're delusional." his face crumbles at this and a sense of panic and dread pools in his stomach.

"w-what? b-but you said —" 

"i know you're sorry, and i know you'd probably try to make it up to me if i let you, but that's not enough. you really hurt me, okay? and it's just, you know, i'm finally happy now, and i have taehyun. i really like him, beomgyu. and he really likes me," you say with a fond smile, as if you're thinking of taehyun right now, and his heart shatters into a million pieces. 

"it's okay," he smiles bitterly, tears still flowing freely. "i... i understand. i just want you to be happy. i want you to be so happy. you deserve it."

"but..."

"go back in," he sniffles. "you don't need to stay here with me anymore." he swipes at his eyes with his sleeve and tries to send you off with a smile, but it's so forlorn, you wish he'd just keep frowning.

"... okay." you turn away, and even though he told you to do it, he can't help but feel an even bigger lump in his throat now that you're actually listening to him.

"beomgyu?" you say softly, before you enter the door. 

his damned heart can't help but flutter again against his will. 

"yes?" 

"don't wait for me anymore, okay?" and he knows you’re being kind, but it feels so final, it hurts more than any hateful words ever could. he should agree, but the ugly and selfish part of him refuses to lie, so he just shakes his head and waves you off. his love is ugly and his heart is broken, but it's still yours to have. 

"I'm sorry," he murmurs again to nobody but himself as you enter the bar.

-

“tyuuunn,” you whine into your phone’s speaker. you can’t tell how it's been since your final conversation with beomgyu, but now you’re drunk and all you can think about is taehyun. about his kindness, how happy he makes you feel, and how much you want to give him all of that in return.

“what is it, baby?” he coos. even in your inebriated state, you can hear the smile in his voice and it makes you wanna smile, too. 

“miss youuu,” you groan. he laughs at your childishness, and you can feel just how much he’s doting on you. it’s a relatively new feeling, being cared for like this, but it’s one you welcome with fervor.

“let me pick you up from that stupid bar so you can stay the night. how’s that sound?” 

“mmm, hurry up,” you pout, and he just laughs again. god, you’re gonna feel so embarrassed by your neediness come tomorrow morning, and he can’t wait to tease you. 

taehyun is so eager to see you, he almost gets pulled over twice while making his way to the bar. he just can’t wait to see how cute you’ll look in his arms, all whiny and grumpy and begging for affection; and he’ll baby you, like he always does, because you deserve it. when he had heard about your appalling history with beomgyu, he couldn’t believe how someone could treat a person as sweet as you so cruelly. truth be told, you do have a bit of a softer personality, but that only evoked the need to protect and cherish you in taehyun. he can’t fathom the idea that somebody would see someone so pure and decide to take advantage instead of nurturing that innocence. his friends keep saying he’s a sucker, and they’re probably right, but he’ll happily be one for you. 

he’s lost in his thoughts when he pulls into the parking lot of the bar you’re in, but his dopey grin drops the second he sees your dreaded ex stumbling away from the building. his face is red, and he’s feverishly wiping away tears and snot. taehyun is a smart man, so he can easily piece together what must have happened, but the thought that you were still thinking of taehyun in this moment comforts him. you had run into your ex, and instead of running back to him, you’re thinking of your new boyfriend. what a relief. taehyun has always known you were still a little broken up about your split with beomgyu. he came into this relationship fully knowing that, but he liked you so much, he really didn’t care. maybe it was rash of him, but he thought it was worth taking a chance. he thought you were worth taking a chance, and so far, he had been correct. 

he parks and stays in his car. if he were a petty person, he might ignore beomgyu and just walk right by him with his arm wrapped around your waist. taehyun, however, is a good person. so good, in fact, he waits for beomgyu’s friend to pick him up before leaving his car to find you.

when he enters the bar, he scans the crowd before he finds you sitting with your friends. your phone is to your ear and it only takes a few seconds for his own to ring. he smiles when he sees your contact photo (the one you both took on a date to your favorite frozen yogurt shop) appear on his screen. he rejects the call and watches you pout before striding over to you and placing his hand on your shoulder. you turn around with a scowl, but your features immediately melt, and you grace him with a toothy grin. you excitedly squeal and wrap your arms around him. he matches your enthusiasm as he peppers your face with kisses.

beomgyu, who has very unfortunately come back to get his phone, watches it all and it’s enough to make him nauseous. he’s in such a daze as he watches you two that he barely registers his own friend honking at him to hurry up. he sees the afterimage of you leaning into taehyun’s touch and accepts the fact that you’ve truly moved on and won’t be coming back. he replays the last conversation you had and he decides he’ll hold onto your words forever. they’re all he has left, after all.

-

you’re so used to taehyun’s apartment that even though you’re drunk enough to see stars, you’re still able to navigate it with ease. taehyun sits you down on his couch and kneels while removing your shoes for you. 

“so chivalrous,” you giggle. 

“anything for my princess,” he replies cheekily with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen. 

“why are you so nice?” 

“because i like you,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“i like you, too.” you whisper while your face warms. your gaze becomes heated, and he cups your cheeks while gently guiding your face towards his. his touch is soft, and his lips? even softer. 

he doesn’t push for more. you’re drunk and vulnerable at the moment, so he graciously grabs some of his clothes for you to change into and waits for you to come to bed. when you do, you plop down and he pulls you into his arms. you smile at his earnestness. he locks his arms around you, and for the first time in your life, a man is making you feel so happy and secure you can’t help but melt into the feeling. you feel safe. you feel loved.

“i really like you, you know?” he whispers into your hair, and it’s all you can do to keep your heart inside of your chest. 

“i know. i really like you, too.” and you do. things with taehyun are still new, but as his breathing slows, you realize this is how love should be, and you think you want to be with him for a long, long time.

notes pt. 2: yes there will be an alternate ending where she ends up with gyu :,)

[taglist]

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permanent (sfw/[n]sfw): @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @midwinterblizzard @sooberryworld @20-cms @hyueika @boba-beom @vicurious28 @blossommi @lickingan0rchid @katsukis1wife @binniebakery @notevenheretbh1 @shymexican @that1sadgrl @archoive @paegesoobin @buttercreamerie @ifwtxt @softesyoongi @serenityism00 @fairfootedflekk @kyanmeai @definitelynotherr @hyunj00 @taehyunluvrs @m00gyu @denleave1088 @hwanghyunjinismybae @bmo-bri

if you would like to join any of my taglists, send an ask or join here!

[starboye]

starring: nicholas alexander chavez x male reader

request: Nick is the captain of the football team and the reader is the only male member of the cheerleading team, with a phat ass and slutty waist. A slutty femboy if you will. They have this ongoing sexual tension between them which leaves Nick always sexually frustrated and on edge. But whenever things start to get heated the reader just teasingly walks away. But one night when the reader is getting ready for bed, Nick breaks into his room climbing through the window and they have nasty sex all night long

warnings: smut, really rough sex, degradation, homophobia, f slur used but just in sex, fingering, jerking off, teasing

the other girls absolutely fawned over nick, him being the captain of the football team and all made all the women want to fuck him but he only had eyes for you and your righteously phat ass, he wanted you so bad that it hurt, and adding that you were the only guy on the cheerleader team he got to see your ass bouncing everyday during practice.

you on the other hand had no interest in him but you did love teasing him, getting him on the edge just to pull off such as today when after practice nick pulled you under the bleachers with his still sweaty gear on and your marvelous cheer uniform sill luckily on.

"what do you want nick" you ask agitated already knowing what he wants "i see you had a great cheer today, mind showing it to me at my place tonight" nick comes off player like, throwing you off slightly "well i would love to but what's in it for me" you ask filling nicks mind with nasty perverted thoughts "i dunno maybe a little kissing and some other things" nick licks his lips and glances down to yours.

"mm i dont even know how you kiss" you fake pout "well we could change that right now" nick smirks "sure then" you agree which shocks nick but none the less he leans into kiss you but just as your lips are about to touch the school bell rings and breaks you both apart "aw rats and i was just looking forward to it" you fake a sad voice and walk off.

leaving nick with a boner and a head full of thoughts that lead him to the bathroom to jerk off, the whole time thinking of how much he wanted to make you his, fill you with his cock and cum which now sadly is being flushed down the toilet after he came, but this time he has a thought in mind, a devious thought.

now watching you from a far as you get ready for bed, your parents weren't home right now so lucky him, slyly opening your window before slipping in to see you just walking out of the bathroom, taking that chance to pounce on you.

"what the fuck" you yell trying to push the mysterious person off you then realizing it's nick "what the hell are you doing in my house nick" you ask ready to hit him "finally taking what's mine" he smirks before grabbing you and kissing you deeply making you drop your guard surprisingly.

"you don't get to tease me anymore now" he says bending you over your bed and smacking you jiggly ass before spitting on your hole and opening you up with his fingers, pumping them in and out at an alarming rate for quite some time "you wanna hurry this up, my parents are gonna be home in like two and a half hours" you scoff making nick a little mad.

slapping you ass to shut you up before he pulls out his cock and thrusts in into you, a loud whine shooting from your mouth that nick stops by slapping his hand over your mouth and continuing to fuck that delicious hole that he's only ever dreamed of but feels so much better in real life "for a slut like you i expected a looser hole" he teases.

"yeah and i expected better sex but here we are" you slickly say making nick stop going nice and starts absolutely slamming into you, pushing you forward with every thrust but he pulls you right back on his cock to keep destroying your inside, pushing your face down into the pillow to shut up your whiny moans from getting you both caught by the neighbors.

"yeah who's the bitch now" nick boasted watching you turn dumb under him with every pound into your tight hole "dumb little whore just wanted some cock huh to shut up his faggot mouth right" nick says listening to you babble some nonsense "you want me to fill you up hm" he asks slapping your ass to finally hear you scream a 'yes'.

he pounds into you a couple more times before emptying his load in you but oh no don't think thats the end, it's just the beginning for the night this man had with you, had you creaming all over his cock and dumping loads into you like a common whore until you passed out, cleaning you up so your parents wouldn't get suspicious, the next day he saw you he was happy as ever could be.

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac

[willowsnook]

hi! could i get a scotch with lime in a copper mug? 💞✨

lando norris x mclarenrookie!reader

just shut up and come here

-----------------------------------------------------------------

With Max’s car starting to falter, Lando knew he had a real shot at competing for the WDC. As the season progressed, he’d become the favorite, and it finally felt like his time. There was just one problem: you.

In your rookie year in F1, you were holding third place, just 40 points behind Lando. Exceeding all the team's expectations, you’d proven to be a real competitor — and Lando wasn’t pleased. To him, the strategy should have been obvious: you were supposed to help him beat Max. But you saw it differently. After all, you were only 80 points behind the leader, and Zak and Andrea had decided to let things play out between the two of you, which only heightened the tension.

What started as a friendship had quickly soured after you overtook Lando to win in Hungary. Furious, he stormed into your driver’s room after the podium celebration, his eyes blazing.

“What the hell was that?” he snapped, voice sharp.

You didn’t flinch, meeting his gaze. “A clean overtake,” you replied coolly.

“You’re screwing up my chances at the championship!” he seethed, his tone bitter.

"You do realize that I also have a shot at it?" You questioned. "Not my fault that I'm faster than you either."

At that, he got in your face, practically radiating anger. “Just stay out of my way,” he bit out before stalking out of the room.

It was the first of many heated clashes, and even Zak was starting to worry about the tension between his drivers. Things only escalated after your win in Baku, when Lando stood stony-faced on the podium, arms crossed, barely acknowledging the celebration. The media had a field day, and McLaren’s PR department wasn’t happy.

Seeing his growing frustration, your initial resentment slowly turned to concern. His behavior was spiraling, and it seemed no one was willing to address it — except you.

“What’s going on with you?” you demanded one day after a rough qualifying session, pushing open his door to find him pacing.

“What are you talking about?” he snapped, but you didn’t back down.

“You’re being a brat to everyone! It was fine when you were just an asshole to me, but this is getting out of hand.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied venomously.

“If you need someone to talk to, you know McLaren has plenty of resources,” you said softly, trying a different approach.

“I don’t need your help so just fuck off,” he said and you backed off.

That didn’t stop you from giving your own therapist his email, instructing her to email him nonstop until he set up a session. Something must have worked because in the break before Austin, Lando did some press about his struggles with mental health and you heard that he’d bought gifts for the whole garage team as an apology for his behavior.

You two still didn’t really talk but he gave you a head nod now as a hello and there wasn’t much tension between you in front of the media anymore.

Then, on the Thursday before the Austin GP, during your post-free-practice interviews, a reporter brought up Lando.

“Y/N, any thoughts on Helmut’s recent comments?” they asked.

You raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, I don’t keep track of what everyone’s saying.”

“He claimed that Lando has ‘mental weaknesses’ preventing him from being a real championship contender.”

You stiffened, feeling anger bubble up. “Yeah, interesting,” you started, your PR manager nodding, likely expecting you to stay professional. Too bad for them. “Honestly, he can go fuck off.”

The press buzzed with shock, and your PR manager hurried over, but you went on.

“Red Bull’s looking for anything to distract from their own mess. It’s 2024, and criticizing a driver for being open about mental health is pathetic. We’d all be a little better off if they put him in a nursing home Lando’s one of the most talented drivers out there, so Helmut can shove it. Thanks.”

You walked off, ignoring your PR manager’s frantic scolding.

Later, after the team debrief, you headed to your room, ready to call it a day. But outside your door, you saw Lando waiting, his expression softer than usual.

“Are you okay—?” you began, but he cut you off, stepping forward.

“Just shut up and come here,” he murmured, pulling you into a hug. You rubbed his back as he buried his head against your shoulder, his voice muffled. “I owe you so much. And after what you said today… even more.”

“This stuff is hard, Lando. Sometimes it feels like the whole world’s on our shoulders.” You pulled back to meet his gaze. “I like it better when you’ve got the energy to actually fight me.”

He laughed softly, then hugged you tighter. “Can we… start over? As friends?” he asked, his voice tentative.

You smiled. “Of course — but only after I win the championship.”

He groaned, but his eyes sparkled with humor. “In your dreams, rookie.”

[mydearzero]

Prey | Professor!Spencer Reid x Reader

MASTERLIST

PART 2

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: You were determined to stay collected and have your professor make the first move. To make him believe he's the one desperate for you. He's onto you though. He knows what you want, what you need. And he's going to give it to you.

Warnings: Professor!Spencer, fem!Reader, Teacher/student relationship, age gap, smut, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), NO Y/N, fingering, praise kink, degradation, dacryphilia, humiliation, semi-public sex, rough sex, creampie, choking, aftercare. If I missed any warnings please tell me!

3.9K words

Criminology wasn't the first class you'd voluntarily take. It was interesting enough, really. But not at all necessary for your degree. 

You loved true crime as much as the next college-aged girl. That's what your excuse would be, at least, when people would inevitably ask why the hell you signed up for the class. But the real reason? 

You'd seen him on campus a couple times, only a semester ago. His jagged yet put-together exterior intrigued you. His eyes met yours, if only for a split second. He was perceptive. Very perceptive.

The third time you saw him meeting with the dean, you knew you were hooked. You felt yourself mouth the syllables of his name. Heard the sound falling off your lips in a whispered tone as you overheard him introduce himself to the Criminal Law professor. 

Doctor Spencer Reid. 

You'd done your research, as any self-respecting student would. He was an FBI agent working for the Behavioral Analysis Unit. He was a proper genius with several degrees under his belt, even when he was your age. 

He wasn't anymore, your age.

A notice got posted on the college's website a few days after your last sighting. Doctor Spencer Reid of the FBI would teach several seminars this semester, with voluntary attendance and limited availability. 

You signed up in a heartbeat. You told yourself it was because he was an enigma, a puzzle for you to solve. His posture, eyes and even how he spoke screamed 'Solve me!' You, someone notorious for your ability to read people, couldn't figure him out. It frustrated you. Everything about him invited you to try and peel back the layers to let you see inside. 

Were you maybe a tad too obsessed with the man without ever having spoken to him? Obviously, but you couldn't help yourself. You loved a good mystery. And this was one gorgeous mystery. 

You tried to be deliberate about everything when you entered the first seminar. Don't spare the professor a second glance, but be genuinely interested. Don't hang off every word falling from his lips but raise your hand often enough to appear engaged. You wanted him to be the one to notice you first, even if it was anything but the truth. 

But Professor Reid was a professor in his field for a good reason. He caught your calculated gaze a few times. Watched as you schooled your expression to perfection. Spencer had to admit, you were good. But he was better. He noticed how your stare dropped to his hands as he moved them while speaking. Noticed how the pattern of your breathing was unnatural. If his hearing was superhuman, he would've heard your heart beat irregularly. 

You could seek control of the situation as much as you wanted, but your body would betray you time and time again. Spencer thrived in this little cat-and-mouse game you'd tried to set him up for. He knew you'd convinced yourself you were the cat, calculated, ready to pounce. He smiled to himself at the comparison. If only you knew you were the mouse in this situation, insignificant and small under his watchful eye. Something for him to feast on.

He'd seen you that day; the first time he was on campus. Captured your observant eye with amusement simmering in his mind. He knew who you were, and why you were here, the second you walked into the classroom. You'd tried to appear confident, sure of yourself, by walking to a spot near the front without sparing anybody around you a second glance. But Spencer saw it for what it was. A nervous but powerful stride of a girl begging for a grain of validation. 

It had been brought to his attention that several girls in the class were only auditing, but not you. You were here for the real deal. You were committed to figuring him out. He could see it in the way your eyes raked over his body, reading his body language with every syllable spoken. You were genuinely interested in the subject matter, even if it was only to listen to him explain it.

He was flattered, really. Although your interest in the professor might've started as superficial as the other girls', he could see himself in the way you lost yourself in the infatuation. It wasn't just his looks that pulled you into his orbit. You were intrinsically aware of the grief, trauma and heartache he'd built up over the years. You were dying to be a part of the gravity that shaped him. 

He could see how you had the power to mould people when you had your claws in them. Though, he wasn't sure it was a conscious ability you possessed. Maybe it was just who you were. You had a need for control in every sense of the word. And God, did he want to take it away from you. 

If he didn't know any better, he'd be afraid you'd commit a string of murders if only it meant he would have to read into it. Consider every detail of the crime scene so he'd have to figure you out. It was admirable; your passion for complete dominance. But you couldn't fool Spencer. 

He saw the way you crossed your arms, bit the skin on your lips until they bled, and picked at the skin around your nails, not quite bringing them up to your mouth to bite them, knowing it would convey insecurity. You were an insecure little girl, convincing yourself of the opposite. 

Your need to understand him and domineer every situation was likely a defence mechanism, but he couldn't judge. Not when your little game got him right where you wanted him. Spencer had to applaud your dedication. The anticipation kept him on his toes every time he set foot on campus. He knew you wanted him to break, to make the first move, and he just might have to if he wanted to rid himself of the everlasting tension that seemed to have taken over his body. 

Fine. Spencer would play your little game if that's what you wanted. 

He saw you getting more confident, convinced he was falling into your trap the second he gave in. How the corners of your lips curled up ever so slightly when his gaze lingered on them. You were so caught up in your success that you failed to notice every action was premeditated on his part. It was only inevitable your eyes would light up with glee and triumph when he requested you to meet him in his office after class. 

You knocked on his door tentatively, trying to slow your racing heart. 

"Come in." Spencer's voice carried through the door. You turned the handle and stepped inside the dimly lit office. 

"You wanted to see me, Professor Reid?" You spoke as your hand lingered on the door, a calculated move to come across as unsure. It was a complete 180 of your usual behaviour in class, but it was a surefire way to let him let you in. You were no threat. 

If only you knew how true that was. 

"Yes, close the door and have a seat, please." Spencer motioned to the chair across from him. You nodded and closed the door quietly before pulling the chair out and sitting down. 

"I would like to discuss your paper with you if you don't mind." Spencer held up the printed copy he insisted everybody hand in. You scoffed when you read the specifications of the assignment. Figures he'd be old school. 

"That's fine. Is there something wrong, Professor?" You batted your eyelashes the way you knew no man could resist. The act of the meek, helpless deer. 

"There's nothing wrong with it, necessarily. I would simply like to discuss the subject matter with you. You sure picked an interesting topic." Spencer leaned against the back of his chair and interlocked his fingers as he saw you smile. 

"What can I say? Your job intrigued me. Though, as I'm sure you could tell from my essay, I can't say I completely agree with the logic behind it." You gave him a small smile to let him know you weren't antagonising but stood behind your choices. 

"Some critiques definitely can be taken into account. But it's been proven time and time again, with every case we solve through behavioural analysis, that the science and logic behind it work. Sure, we can be wrong, even way off. But it's a rare occasion." His eyebrows raised in challenge as he spoke. A small smile threatened to appear on his face as he awaited your answer.

You squinted at his apparent amusement. He wasn't taking you seriously. He knew he'd cracked you when your facade dropped. You looked genuinely offended at his lack of interest in your opinion. He almost wanted to laugh at how easy it turned out to be, to get you to drop the act. 

"Don't look so smug, Professor. It's not a good look on you." You jabbed. You cursed at yourself. That wasn't an argument. You crossed your arms as you leaned back in the chair, never breaking eye contact. 

"I must say, I'm kind of disappointed in you. You seemed to have a great grasp on the subject matter while in class, yet you failed one of the biggest requirements of the assignment." 

You frowned at his words, genuinely confused. You egged him to continue talking. 

"You see, the main requirement was to stay objective. This essay was anything but. I guess I misjudged you. I assumed you were above letting your personal opinions and vendettas get in the way of your academics. Apparently not." Spencer tsked. He was taunting you. 

"How was my essay subjective?" You asked. The more you thought back to it, the more you realized how tainted the words on the pages in his hands were by your disdain for your attraction to him. 

You hated him for making you feel the way you did, and you hadn't even realized it until now. 

"I expected factual work. The only fact I can get from this essay is that you're driving yourself crazy with how much you want me to fuck you." 

You gaped at his vulgar words. 

Hook.

"Don't look so scandalized. You knew what you were getting into when you signed up for my class. You made your bed. Now lie in it." Spencer leaned forward and placed his elbows on his desk, crossing his fingers once again. 

"I think you're full of shit, Spencer Reid." You sneered. 

Line.

"I'm sure you do, sweetheart. And it's Doctor or Professor. I'm not picky." He had the gall to laugh. 

"Profile me then, professor. If you're so damn sure of yourself." You rolled your eyes but looked at him expectantly. 

Sinker. 

"Stand up, lock the door." He instructed. You did as he asked with no rebuttal. He raised from his chair and walked around the desk. You followed him closely with your eyes, unable to predict his next steps. 

He placed a singular finger under your chin and lifted it to make you look up at him. "Good girl." He whispered with intent. You tried to give no outward reaction to the words, but as Spencer had come to predict, your body betrayed you. Goosebumps raced down your crossed arms, and your breathing hitched, even if only slightly. 

You didn't break eye contact, to Spencer's amusement. You really should've known better. 

"You want me to profile you? Sure. In your essay, you kept mentioning speculation. But, you see, it's not speculation. It's deduction. You would've known and been able to differentiate the two if you weren't so busy rubbing your thighs and biting your lips in my class." His words were accompanied by his thumb coming up to your mouth, running it over the chewed-up skin of your bottom lip. 

"You want to know what else I deduced just now?" He didn't wait for your reply as he brought his face closer to yours, leaning in to whisper in your ear. 

"I think you like being called a good girl. But not because of the validation... No... It's the implication that turns you on." His breath scalded the delicate skin of your neck as he spoke. 

You urged him to continue with your silence, breath stuck in your throat. 

"You see, most girls like you like being called a good girl because they lack external male validation. They're desperate to hear those words from anyone. Not you, though... No..." Spencer laughed before continuing. 

"You like it because it implies a level of authority. You love hearing it, especially from me, because it implies that I have the authority to decide for you what you are. And you wanna know what I think?" He leaned back a little to be able to look you in your wide eyes. He traced his finger over your jaw. 

"I think you're a little whore. You don't want someone to validate you. You need someone to completely dominate you." He grabbed your chin forcefully. A soft whimper left your lips before you could stop it. 

"Your pupils are dilated, your skin is flushed, and you're barely breathing. That's how I know I'm right. And I'm not speculating, darling." The alarmed look you gave him did nothing to deter him. 

"Get on your knees." He demanded as he let go of your chin. You did so without question. You looked up at him expectantly, heart beating in your throat. 

"Looks like I finally found a way to shut you up. Though, I can think of other ways. You're going to address me as 'Sir' from now on. You won't speak unless spoken to. Am I clear?" 

You nodded quickly, spreading your legs to alleviate the pressure quickly building. Spencer raised an eyebrow before putting his shoe between your thighs, putting even more pressure than before. 

"I asked. Am. I. Clear?" 

"Yes!" You yelped. A smile that could only be described as devilish made itself apparent on your professor's face. 

"Yes, what?" He asked as he pushed the point of his shoe further between your thighs. 

"Yes, Sir." You all but moaned as you tried to hold yourself up, keeping your back as straight as it would allow you. 

"Good girl." He said the riveting words. 

You expected him to pull his pants down and force your mouth on him, but he did no such thing. 

"You're gonna make yourself cum on my shoe. You better not make any noise." He instructed. 

"Yes, Sir." You mumbled as you slowly started grinding against him. You felt your cheeks get redder and redder in embarrassment. You were mortified at the realization that the humiliated feeling only added to the ease of your grinding, getting wetter and wetter. Your underwear was no longer doing much to keep his shoe clean. 

You looked up at Spencer, who looked unaffected. He put his hands in his pockets and sighed as if the current situation was nothing but an inconvenience to him. You slowly put your arms around his leg as you moved closer to him. 

Soft whines left your mouth as you felt yourself getting closer. You'd never felt as conflicted before. So incredibly turned on, yet so embarrassed to be basically humping his leg. 

Suddenly, Spencer ripped his leg away. You lost your support and fell flat on the floor in front of his feet. "That's enough." 

"I thought you said I had to make myself cum, Sir?" You could hear you sounded as desperate as you probably looked. 

"And I decided I'm not going to let you. Now, who said you could speak?" You quickly closed your mouth. "That's what I thought." 

He gripped your upper arm harshly and hoisted you off the floor. You dared to peek at the shoe that had just now been your seat and were embarrassed to find it reflecting the light, unlike its matte counterpart. 

Your legs wobbled as Spencer guided you to his desk. It was only now you realized the shutters weren't completely shut, light from the hallway shining down on your face as he pushed it down against the mahogany when he bent you over at the waist. Spencer followed your gaze. 

"I guess you'll really have to be quiet, baby. My office hours start in less than an hour." You met his eyes with your own panicked ones. Anybody who did as much as try and look inside past the shutters would see you bent over his desk. He brushed your hair out of your face before flipping your skirt up and examining the sight before him. 

"You soaked right through those panties of yours. Better take 'em off." He said as he hooked his fingers under them and pulled them down. You stepped out of them to the best of your ability.

Spencer picked them up, and gave them a short whiff, before walking around his desk. You didn't dare move but followed him with your eyes, confused. He looked at you as he unlocked a drawer, put them inside, and locked it again. You weren't getting those back. 

He walked back around and admired the sight for a little before he unexpectantly gave your ass a harsh smack. You closed your eyes tightly as you felt yourself get wetter at the stinging sensation it left behind. 

You jumped as he pushed two fingers inside without preparation. He placed his other hand on your back to push you back down against the desk. His eyes were warning you to stay still as he moved his finger expertly inside you. He brought his thumb to your clit, and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from making any noise. The circumstances from before had ensured you were nearing the edge concerningly fast. 

When Spencer sped up, you brought a hand to your mouth to muffle any noise. You felt your eyes tear up at the intensity of the sensation, so you squeezed them closed. Just as you were about to fall over the edge, Spencer stepped away. His weight against you was what was keeping you up. You felt your knees buckle as a desperate cry left your lips. 

"Please, Spencer. Please." 

He looked furious as he grabbed your shoulders, turning you around and pushing you back on the desk. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. He pushed your shirt up, exposing more skin to him. He tugged your bra down, not bothering to unclasp it. He tugged roughly at your nipples, making you keen, and the tears finally spill from your eyes. 

"Not so tough now, huh?" He mumbled as he undid his belt with one hand. The other was still pawing at your crudely exposed breasts. He didn't bother properly pulling his pants down, only taking his cock out of its confines. You imagined you looked downright filthy compared to how composed the man in front of you still managed to appear. There was a stain on his pants from where your crotch had met his, but other than that, he was pristine. 

He gave his cock a few tugs before lining himself up, grabbing your thighs and pushing inside. You couldn't contain the guttural groan that escaped you as the strength of his thrust forced your head off the desk, hanging over the edge. He didn't care as he started pounding away, using his grip on your thighs as leverage. 

You could barely breathe, the angle of your neck not allowing much air to flow. Your ears started to ring as blood pooled in your head, making you dizzy as Spencer kept his brutal pace. You tried gripping his arms to pull yourself back up before you passed out, but hardly to any avail. Spencer noticed your struggle and pulled your head back on the desk. The blood rushing back down, along with a particularly harsh thrust, had you moaning his name. 

You heard his haggard breath as he continued filling you again and again. The sensation of him inside you drove you crazy, the tears from earlier still fresh on your cheeks. Low groans fell from Spencer's lips when one of his hands moved to your clit, rubbing rough circles. 

Just as you'd recovered from your little upside-down stint, Spencer brought the hand still resting on your thigh up to your throat, reclaiming your ability to breathe freely. He squeezed in the exact right spot. Your hands moved to his wrist, not to get him to stop, but as leverage. 

"You look so good like this, like a slut for your Professor. Crying on my cock while I decide if you get to breathe." You moaned as your nails dug harshly into his wrist. You were slowly getting lightheaded again. 

"You're gonna cum on my cock when I tell you to." He spoke through the sound of skin hitting skin. His voice was strained, low moans reaching your ears.

"Yes, Sir." You struggled to get the words out. 

"Good girl," Spencer said once more, giving a few more intentional thrusts deep inside you. A noise that could only be classified as a scream bubbles straight out of your chest when he hit the right spot over and over and over again. He finally released the hold on your neck. 

"Cum." The demand had barely reached your ears as your vision went white. You felt his hips stutter against your own, shooting his load in tandem with your own orgasm. 

He slowly pulled out and admired the sight of you still trying to recover, legs wide open, dripping with his cum on his desk. 

You were on the edge of hyperventilating, all the sensations overwhelming you. Spencer slowly helped you sit up, careful to not let your privates touch the harsh wood of the desk. You let yourself fall against his chest as he held you up.

"Hey, hey. You're okay. Come on, look at me." He spoke softly, in complete contrast to just mere minutes ago. You met his eyes, which had softened tremendously. 

"I'm sorry if I was too harsh on you." He quietly apologized, wiping the stray tears from your cheeks. 

You shook your head. "No, no... You were right. That was exactly what I needed, I suppose. Good profiler." You chuckled emptily. 

Spencer stifled a laugh as he wrapped his arms around you. "Next time, you can just ask for what you want, okay? No more of this little game." 

"It was fun, though. Guess I underestimated you, Sir." 

Spencer groaned at the title. 

"Too soon, baby girl. Maybe clean yourself up before going there again." 

You winced as you felt a trickle of his cum down your leg. 

"Yeah, maybe." You grimaced. You were going to be sore for the next week.

He lifted your face to his, the action feeling a lot less domineering. His eyes were gentle as he slowly leaned in, placing a delicate kiss on your lips. 

"You'll still need to rewrite that essay." He muttered as he pulled away. 

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, hitting his shoulder lightly before giving him a peck. "Sure thing, Professor." 

PART 2

[megaderping]

I feel like the fandom vastly overstates how "crazy" Akechi is in third semester. Navigator Akechi has this feral energy, yes, and he clearly enjoys tearing through Shadows in his All-Out Attack battlecries and in his Showtime, but look at Akechi any other time in Third Sem. He's calm. He's levelheaded. He's the one person Joker can turn to at the start of third sem to be honest, frank, and real about the circumstances they find themselves in. He investigates the situation, is furious but stoic about being let off so easy. His chats during the jazz club show the same philosophical and introspective side of him that showed in his confidant.

It's just... flanderization, to act like all he is is HAHAHAHA WACKY MURDER GUY during third sem. His navigator lines can come across as very extra, but that's just one side of his character, and you can easily read it as him letting loose in battle.

This one line really encompasses what Akechi is really about in third semester, and it frustrates the hell out of me when people act like he's a "fake Akechi" that Maruki made, when the entire point of his role here is that it's him, and it's his choice to defy Maruki's reality, no matter what becomes of him.

That, and if you really want to get pedantic, Tactica confirms it's the real Akechi by having him mention hobbies like bouldering that Joker would only otherwise hear about in third sem. The DLC story is memorywiped, ergo these are Akechi's genuine interests in the Mementos chats and in the Jazz Club scenes.

I think a lot of misconceptions about third sem Akechi really boil down to not engaging in the optional interactions and focusing on the big, in your face moments as opposed to the quieter and more reflective ones, and it's a shame, because it's not even that the people who do this flanderizing hate Akechi per se. It's just a pet peeve. xD

[wandering-winchesters]

First Moments: Kiss

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Summary: The first time Dean Winchester kisses you Word count: 861 A/N: I am debating on making this a series, covering different "Firsts" with Dean.. Any interest in that? Let me know!

The first time Dean Winchester kisses you, it happens in the least romantic place imaginable—an old gas station parking lot on the outskirts of nowhere. The sun is setting, casting an amber glow over the cracked asphalt and the Impala parked nearby, her paint gleaming like polished obsidian. The faint smell of gasoline mingles with the crisp scent of impending rain, a storm brewing in the distance.

It wasn’t planned. Nothing about Dean ever feels planned, really. He’s a mess of contradictions—cocky and self-assured one minute, guarded and vulnerable the next. You’ve been riding shotgun with him for weeks now, chasing down leads, salt-and-burning restless spirits, and fighting things most people wouldn’t dare to believe existed. Somewhere along the way, you became more than just hunting partners. You don’t know what to call it yet, but there’s a connection between you, an unspoken pull that you’ve both been too stubborn—or scared—to acknowledge.

Until now.

It starts with an argument. Of course it does. Dean has this way of pushing your buttons, and tonight he’s doing it with the precision of a master.

“You can’t just run in there without a plan!” you snap, your arms crossed over your chest.

“And what was your plan, huh?” he shoots back, his voice rising. “To stand around and wait until the ghost decides to play nice? That’s not how this works.”

“It’s called strategy, Dean. Maybe you should try it sometime instead of going full kamikaze every damn hunt!”

He scoffs, dragging a hand down his face in frustration. “You know what your problem is? You think too much. Sometimes you just gotta act.”

“And you think too little!” you retort, your eyes narrowing. “One of these days, your impulsiveness is going to get you killed.”

The words hang in the air, sharper than you intended, and for a moment, Dean just stares at you. His jaw tightens, and there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—hurt, maybe, or regret—but it’s gone before you can be sure.

“Fine,” he says, his voice quieter now. “If you’ve got it all figured out, why the hell do you even need me?”

It’s not the first time you’ve fought, but there’s something different about this one. The air between you feels charged, like the storm rolling in above. You don’t answer right away, and Dean takes a step closer, his boots crunching against the gravel.

“Why, huh?” he presses, his tone softer but no less intense. “Why do you keep sticking around if I’m such a screw-up?”

Your heart pounds against your ribs, a wild, erratic rhythm that matches the storm clouds overhead. You open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat. Because it’s not that simple. Because you don’t stick around in spite of his flaws—you stick around because of them. Because Dean Winchester, for all his faults, is the kind of person who will throw himself in harm’s way without a second thought to save someone else. Because he’s loyal to a fault, fiercely protective, and has a smile that could light up the darkest corners of the world, even when he doesn’t believe it himself.

“Dean…” you start, but his name barely makes it past your lips before he moves.

It’s not hesitant or tentative—it’s sudden, like he’s been holding himself back for too long and finally snapped. His hands cup your face, rough and calloused but somehow gentle, and then his lips are on yours.

The kiss is everything you didn’t know you needed. It’s not perfect—Dean’s lips are a little chapped, and the angle is slightly awkward at first—but it’s real. There’s an urgency to it, a raw, unfiltered emotion that leaves you breathless. His hands are warm against your skin, grounding you even as the world seems to tilt on its axis.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly your hands are fisting in his jacket, pulling him closer as if the space between you is unbearable. He responds in kind, deepening the kiss with a low, almost involuntary sound that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s like the dam you’ve both been holding back has finally burst, and there’s no going back now.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing hard, your foreheads pressed together. The storm is closer now, the first drops of rain starting to fall, but neither of you seems to notice.

“Wow,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

Dean chuckles, a low, self-deprecating sound. “Yeah, uh… sorry about that. I probably should’ve—”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, your fingers still gripping his jacket. “Don’t apologize.”

His eyes meet yours, and for once, there’s no wall, no mask, no bravado. Just Dean.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he admits, his voice soft and almost vulnerable.

You smile, your heart swelling in your chest. “Took you long enough.”

He laughs, the sound warm and genuine, and the tension between you finally seems to ease. The rain starts to pick up, but neither of you moves. For once, the hunt can wait. For once, the only thing that matters is this moment—messy, imperfect, and absolutely perfect all at once.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @hobby27 @jc-winchester @whump-loverz @pizzagirlxnsfwx @king-of-milf-lovers @jollyhunter

[ashthemadwriter-archived]

What if I...

—You make a tempting, unexpected offer; how are they going to react?

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

Pairings: Dazai, Chuuya, Nikolai, Fyodor, Sigma, Jouno X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Suggestive content, mentions of giving blowjobs (whether it'll happen or not is up to you lol), unstablished relationship (you're just friends, but are you..?), rushed writing

Genre: Humor

Format: Drabble

Word Count: 1.6K

↳Osamu Dazai"

Listen y/n..." Dazai cooes at you. "I'm a little bit busy with... uh, work; so I don't think I'll be able to accompany you on this mission"

Shaking your head to the side with frustration, you bend a little on the desk, gazing into his Hazel eyes to show your desperation "Oh c'mon Dazai! You're not seriously gonna make me go to this tiresome mission by myself?! They're all politicians! It's gonna be boring as hell!"

The pile of paperwork on his desk are making you question your eyesight, but you know Dazai better than that. He probably saw it coming so he placed them there on purpose to prove his point.

...Not that it could exactly be called a "point".

"Listen..." Your voice is so low that only Dazai can hear it. "There must be some way for me to change your mind"

His expression doesn't change one bit, still looking through the documents for nothing, pretending to be occupied. "Sorry to burst your bubbles, but I really can't—"

"What if I suck your dick?"

Eyes shooting you a shocked gaze and hands staying still, it seems like he's completely lost interest in the paperwork. He's looking through your soul and the moment his lips start moving, you know you've won the battle.

"For... for real?" "Yes, for real"

The surprised face is all gone and instead, there's a totally new face now; a smug face of a man who's gonna team up with you for the mission and get a little prize in the end.

"So when do we leave?"

↳Chuuya Nakahara

"Listen Chuuya, with great looks comes great responsibility. There's a reason why you're this hot!"

The red-haired man looked away as an attempt to hide his flustered face, his voice still gravely. "Stop it y/n. I'm not gonna be your model for the photoshoot"

"Why not? You're the perfect choice!" "The answer's no! Get over it"

"Hmph! You're no fun" You crossed your arms and pouted as you leaned to the chair. You couldn't make heads or tails of it. Why was he so against being your model? You were just gonna take a few photos of him wearing casual clothes and maybe some light makeup. It was for your photography class and you were supposed to take a pic of somebody under the rays of sunset. With Chuuya's red hair and blue eyes, it would be a breath taking pic. He just looked so pretty under the sun.

As Chuuya took the bottle to sip from it, you found yourself desperate enough to give it one last shot.

"What if I suck your dick as a payment?"

And then the explosion happened. Chuuya's hand snapped, the bottle fell on the floor and drops of wine literally squirted out of his mouth. He was coughing so strongly that you rushed over and started hitting him in the back like he was some kind of ketchup bottle. His face was crimson red, but whether it was from choking or embarrassment, you couldn't really tell.

When he finally came down and caught his breath, he placed his hand on his chest and looked at you with eyes the same size as a baseball, meanwhile you looked at him miserably with the word "sorry" written all over your face.

"So... is that a yes?" "NO!"

Well, at least you nearly killed him.

↳Jouno Saigiku

"Ok I don't know why you're refusing. I'm just giving you the opportunity to make up for your mean attitude by doing something nice! You know, to go to heaven, like me and other nice people, Teccho for example"

Jouno was still expressionless. He merely sipped his cup of coffee and placed his hat on the table. "I appreciate the offer, but after a lifetime we definitely need a break from each other"

"Ugh you jerk! C'mon it's a piece of cake for you! You've arrested plenty of people before! You're smart, you're strong and I came to you for help which shows that I'm really desperate!"

Your relationship with Jouno was... questionable. He teased you, had a tendency to piss you off all the time, but somehow you were friends. The weirdest type of friendship that had ever existed, probably.

"I can see that. See I do wanna help you out, but I just love seeing the new you"

Shaking your head to the side, you leaned back to the couch. A hard case was given to you and you really didn't want to blow it up, but you needed help, and everyone else were busy. Except for your horrible friend here.

"Jouno, Jouno, Please..." You took his left, gloved hand. "I need you! I'll do anything in return! I'll team up with you and insult Teccho for a whole year! I'll write every one of your reports! I'll even suck your d—"

Jouno didn't hear your voice anymore. In fact, the only thing heard in the room was pure silence, and of course your heartbeat.

You were shocked.

He got his hand out of your grasp, placing it next to your head. His other hand found its way to your lips, softly caressing them. Meanwhile you didn't say a word, just stared at his handsome face and swallowed your saliva.

"Hypothetically, if I help you out, how far would you go to make it up to me?"

Forget about your friendship. You weren't that close anyway.

↳Fyodor Dostoevsky

"I'm going to go to my parents' with my boyfriend tonight"

"I thought you didn't have a boyfriend, dear" Fyodor tilted his head to the side to gaze at you.

"I don't! That's where you come in!"

Nikolai exchanged a look between your nervous expression and Fyodor's smile, and pouted. "Hey! Why didn't you ask me instead?"

"Yeah yeah, if I ever wanted to give them a heart attack you'd be the first person I'll go to" You sighed and looked back at Fyodor. "So? Would you please help me out?"

Fyodor was sitting next to you on a chair. He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "Ah... I'm not sure about that. Wouldn't it make our relationship awkward?"

"No! No not at all!" Your voice was rushed and shaky. "You see you're the perfect choice for this"

"Hmph!"

"Shut up Nikolai. I mean, you're tall, you know how to talk to people— in a satisfying way, ah, you know what I mean, you're handsome, you have very pretty hair, you have the most beautiful violet eyes I can stare at until forever..."

His brattish smirk made you shut up and give a few embarrassed coughs. Your flushed cheeks weren't exactly helping you out at the moment.

"Eh... So you're the best in many ways... Now, would you please help me out?"

Fyodor gave Nikolai-who was also smirking- a meaningful look, and his smirk got broader. "I will think about it"

"What's there to think about? You get to have a free dinner and also have a great time! My dad has the same taste in books as you! I'll even suck your dick at the end!"

You suddenly shut up and stared at the two men with eyes the same size as a racket ball. Now there was also two pare of knitted eyebrows along with the smirks. Nikolai's winking and muttering "Yeah baby" didn't help you loosen up at all.

Fyodor leaned closer until the phrase "personal space" lost its meaning, staring at you. His pretty eyes were sparkling, making it harder to steal your gaze from them. His voice was as gentle as the sea breeze, the perfect melody to caress your ears.

"So... I'll get to date the most beautiful girl in the world, spend a whole night with her and then get something afterwards?"

You were so drowned in your thoughts that you couldn't utter a single word. This moment was magical, making you wonder if he were going to seal your lips with his, totally forgetting about Nikolai's presence.

...Until he started talking.

"Do you guys want me to leave the room? Cause there's no way I'm doing that"

↳Nikolai Gogol

"...Which is why clowns are so fragile and have strong emotions!"

You shook your head with disappointment. "Yeah yeah, get it. But that doesn't answer my question"

"What was your question anyway?"

Ugh.

"Would you please babysit my cousins with me?"

"Hahaha! I remember now!" His face brightened with joy. "Well, no"

You leaned closer to him miserably. "Oh c'mon Kolya!"

"Sorry dove, I just don't get along with children. Not a fan"

"But they're triplets Kolya! I can't handle them on my own!" At this point you were literally begging. "Pretty please?"

"Triplets? Ha! Another reason for me to say no"

Well, that was it. You were going to be alone with your naughty cousins for four hours and then hand a burned house and probably only one of the boys back to your aunt because you lost the other two.

"Unless..."

Ah! There's still some hope left.

"You offer me something in return?"

Nikolai's face was dangerously close to yours. His smile was bright, but his intention didn't seem to be. Although that didn't scare you. It only made your body numb with excitement and through your clouded mind, you somehow put two and two together and blurted something out.

"Eh... What if.. What if I suck your di— Woah Nikolai what are you doing?"

A chuckle left his mouth as if something simple had happened, but this wasn't simple. He had just lifted you up and was carrying you bridal style to your bedroom.

"You took the hint all by yourself. How about that, my naughty dove?"

"K— Kolya! Where are you taking me?"

Your red cheeks only made his smile broader. "We're gonna get your clothes changed, go to your aunt's aweful house, babysit your horrible cousins, and then get ready for a night of fun"

↳Sigma

"So... How's the best manager in the world?"

Sigma's stare was still pointed at the documents. "I'm not planning a birthday party for your friend y/n"

"What are you talking about?" You smiled cunningly, lightly caressing his arm from the other side of the desk. "Can't I just compliment my incredible friend? Who happens to be an expert in planning and managing stuff?"

When you two first met, he used to get flustered by your flattering comments, but now Sigma's eyebrows only jumped in surprise. "You... can, but it won't change my mind"

"Pretty please?" Dropping the act, you got up from your seat and stood next to him, putting both of your hands on his shoulders. "I really need your help. I don't have a clue about this and you're the only one I know"

"I'm sorry y/n, but I'm caught up with work. You know that the casino is very busy this time of year, there's nothing I can do"

You sighed and sat on the chair again, desperately thinking about a way to convince him. What would make men do women a favor...

"What if I suck you dick?"

Sigma was still staring at the documents, which made you wonder if he had heard you, but his eyes were not the same. They were widened. He slowly lifted his head and looked at you like he was about to chop off his hand and stick it down his ass, and that made you finally realize it.

"Oh I forgot that you're three years old! I mean you haven't even hit puberty yet. Oops. My bad"

Yeah, Sigma needed new friends.

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[secriden]

I thought I was done talking about Style in THK's episode 2, but jokes on me, no I'm not.

I keep thinking about Style and Bison's first interaction and how pure and sweet it was. In the middle of the mess that is this 4-way whirlwind of lies and deception, it felt like a refreshingly honest conversation between two people who are only accidentally lying to each other.

Style seems incredibly earnest when he tells Bison that Kant is "down bad" for him. It doesn't feel like Style is 'wingmanning' Kant here; or if he is, it isn't meant to be malicious or to mislead Bison. It feels like someone being friendly with his bff's crush and hoping that they can get along because he thinks this one's going to stick around.

Similarly, when Bison tells Style to go for Fadel for real, it feels very honest and earnest. Setting aside whatever games Bison is playing with Kant, Bison seems to genuinely want someone for his big brother, and not just so he can date who he wants or as a distraction.

It's also interesting how Style's protest is that he can't see himself actually gaining feelings for Fadel because in a way there's nothing to recommend Fadel to Style at this point. As far as Style is concerned, Fadel is arrogant and condescending, rude and ungrateful (after all, he did replace a bunch of parts in Fadel's car for free), a stick in the mud about his brother dating, and can't seem to take a joke.

We see the polite, pleasant and reasonable Fadel, but Style doesn't.

Which is why I've been obsessing over Style's expressions immediately after the conversation with Bison. Bison's parting insight is "He's rough on the outside, and on the inside," and I think he accidentally piqued Style's curiosity with that line. Because why does Bison still want his brother to have a "real" relationship, then? What makes Fadel worth loving, despite (what Style thinks is) nothing to recommend him?

Ugh I wish I knew how to make gifs because BLESS @airenyah FOR MAKING THESE GIFS!!! Dunk goes through a whole sequence of expressions here that suggests a shift happens in the way he's thinking of Fadel. There's a pensive and thoughtful look and then almost like, "Oh what the hell, might as well see where this goes" kind of amusement at the end. And I think the reason he has this shift is because he's realised that Bison clearly loves his brother and that must mean that there's more to Fadel then his initial impression of the man.

It's interesting that his next attempt at messing with Fadel actually invites Fadel to play along with it. It's so much tamer and more private than the previous attempts because he isn't actively trying to humiliate Fadel this time. And it works?? Fadel engages in the roleplay, indulges Style's ridiculousness, actually chops faster (whilst the most hysterical series of minute expressions play over Fadel's face <3). Perhaps this was Style testing the waters: can Fadel engage with something playful and not take everything way too seriously? Huh, turns out, he can!

The next time Style shows up around Fadel, he's circled back to that playful over-the-top flirting that characterised the garage scene. This is the first time in this episode that Style is actually flirting. Every other time was just to frustrate/humiliate Fadel but notice how he's actively trying to look attractive to Fadel now? He's putting all his best (ahem) assets on display, and poor Fadel has no real protection against this. And, oh, Style is loving this! He's gleefully lapping up every single time Fadel fails to completely hide that he's affected by him.

This, though. THIS precisely is the point I think Style decides that he really does want Fadel for himself. There's so much playing out over Style's face: the determination to push things further, the delighted surprise to see Fadel so rattled, the razor sharp focus, and then desire. Style has finally broken through Fadel's "roughness" and he loves it.

If that uncle hadn't walked in, I'm convinced Fadel would have let Style do anything he wanted, and I think Style knew that.

It's the first time Style immediately chases after Fadel when he walks away from him, and he's absolutely delighted when Fadel all but chokes him against the lockers because that means he still has Fadel within reach.

The whole conversation about "love at first sight" is breathtaking because it feels like Style is discovering what's going to make Fadel crack as he says it and realising just how much he wants this. And no, I don't think he's in love with Fadel yet (not by a LONG shot), but I think he realises that he wants Fadel to fall in love with him. This is such a shift from what he expressed in the diner to Bison. In the diner, there was no hope, no chance for this.

The kisses catch Style by surprise too: you can see that he's just reacting, pushing to see where Fadel will finally draw the line. Because Fadel kisses back in the first kiss and actually fails to push Style away for quite some time in the 2nd kiss (the camera purposely lingers on the way Fadel's hands hover over Style's waist without shoving him back). The third kiss is the point Fadel finally starts fighting, and in the immidate aftermath you can see Style watching so carefully again. And Fadel nearly kisses him again, you see the way Fadel's eyes drop to Style's lips, the way they both freeze and linger in the moment for that one second. The way Style registers that moment and it leaves Style shaken himself.

It's so interesting that this is how we leave Style in this episode (we only see Fadel's fantasy version of Style after this point). I've got two possible interpretations for this line:

Style possibly catches on that Fadel is more dangerous than he seems. Maybe just from vibes, maybe from something in the way Fadel threatened him that kicks off some kind of fearful instinct. This could be what makes Style start questioning if Kant told him the full story and lead to whatever scene it is where Style demands answers in the episode 3 preview.

Alternatively, perhaps Fadel is starting to become real to Style in ways he wasn't before. Fadel was almost a caricature of a man, one which Style didn't like very much before, and that made it easier to fool around with him. But this? This almost tortured man who clearly wants Style but can't seem to give into that desire? Something is going on and Style isn't sure it's worth the game to either of them anymore. Because maybe Style recognises that he's more affected than he should be. And that has implications that Style was not ready for.

[tinfoil-jones]

Question:why is Jerk Ford like this? From what I understand nobody seemed to have bullied him at all so did he just come out of the womb and thought "I'm gonna be a menace to everyone and everything"? That would be so funny-

There's a lot of reasons why the other Fords hate Jerk Ford.

Like, a lot of reasons. You don't get called "Jerk Ford" for no reason.

But one of those reasons is that any given version Stanford Pines is going to be defined by his scientific curiosity, and interest in finding the answers to mysteries.

The frustrating thing about Jerk Ford? They cannot, for the life of them, figure out why he's such a jerk. There's no real answer and they hate that.

Nothing particularly bad ever happened to him compared to other versions of himself. Bill didn't traumatize him, he got over any feelings of betrayal from his brother, he was mean to people before they could try to bully him as a kid, and Fiddleford never started a cult.

He's not even evil. He doesn't want to kill people, take over the world, or even be renowned in the scientific community. He just wants to be a petty b***h to everyone.

And he doesn't lack empathy. No, he has empathy, but what makes him a jerk is that he chooses not to use it.

Guilt, doubt, shame, and fear are just words to him.

Canon Ford? Canon Ford hears about him for the first time and asks himself "Surely he can't be that bad? He's just another me at the end of the day." And then it turned out, he really was that bad. So I don't think they would have interacted much. I do imagine this exchange happened, however:

Canon Ford: Why are you SUCH A JERK? Jerk Ford: This can't be the first time you've looked into a mirror.

A physical fight is possible; the MAB-3L dimension from Lost Legends showed several alternate versions of Mabel interact without destroying the dimension, so we're gonna act like 'you'll collapse the entire dimension if you interact with an alternate you' isn't a thing. However, Jerk Ford is a hater, not a fighter. His mouth is always writing checks the rest of him can't cash. Canon Ford could absolutely beat his a** if he wasn't so good at getting under your skin and escaping when you're too upset to pin him down.

And Jerk Ford has always been like this. He was like this growing up. He was like this straight out of the womb. Even as a baby he was a jerk, he'd be that baby who would cry on an airplane flight just to stop as soon as the flight ended.

Stan has never known his twin brother to be any different, he knows he's a jerk to everyone except him, so he tries to minimize the damage. He insists that even though Jerk Ford is an a**hole, he does care he just struggles to show it. But no one so far has believed him, not even their family.

Hell, the reason Filbrick didn't kick Stanley out this time around is because Jerk Ford told him "You know, without Stanley around, I don't have any reason to hold back."

"Hold back? You're the biggest menace in all of Glass Shard Beach, and you expect me to believe you've been holding back?"

"Are you going to take that risk, Pa?"

(He didn't take the risk, they'd been banned from so many places already because of Jerk Ford)

[eelclaw]

the protagonists of the broken code. who's rootspring

i am tbc's number 1 hater! negative thoughts below

shadowsight: other characters sometimes acknowledge that he was manipulated by ashfur, but the narrative puts all of the blame for the ashfur situation on him, neglecting that (a) he did exactly what he was supposed to do as a healer (obey and take messages from a starclan cat), and (b) the codebreaker hysteria was far more a product of clan culture than the actions of a single apprentice. he isn't treated like the victim that he is, and it is frustrating and not cathartic.

bristlefrost: what the hell does she even do. what does her spy arc accomplish or contribute (like mother, like daughter). she finds out that bramblestar isn't bramblestar far too early. she's so perfect and she has no flaws and she's so empty. i want her to be worse. how much more interesting would she be if she was sneaky and selfish? if she was loyal to the imposter because she truly believed in what he was saying? not to mention how she reciprocates rootspring's feelings with literally zero warning, and ceases to have what little character she'd had to begin with. i genuinely don't care that she dies, they did nothing to make her an engaging character. miss bristlefrost, i'm sorry they did you so bad.

rootspring: first rootpaw thinks he's weird because of his father. i hate this because i hate tree. later, rootpaw thinks he's weird because he can see ghosts. so they give him this "i just want to be normal" deal, and the clans suddenly pretend that ghosts are silly and not real. sure, rootspring and tree are the first clan cats with this specific power. and i get that the clans have very rigid beliefs, and they are afraid of anything that contradicts those beliefs, and that's interesting! but ghosts have been appearing to clan cats all the way back to tpb. fireheart tries to kill clawface at one point and he senses spottedleaf's spirit beside him, there to avenge her death. so rootspring's issue is stupid and he's nothingburger to me.

bramblestar: the arc really depends on me giving a shit about what happens to him. which i don't.

i think bramblestar is unintentionally a bad person and a great character. he proves himself by rejecting tigerstar, but he's still deeply insecure. he makes mistake after mistake (conspiring with tigerstar; hesitating to save firestar from the fox trap; forsaking his children after finding out they're not biologically his; using his power over squirrelflight as a warrior, deputy, and leader to control her), and for none of these mistakes is he held accountable (no thunderclan cat except leafpool learns that he plotted with tigerstar; he is allowed to remain deputy; his children think he was the best father ever; in every situation, squirrelflight seems to bear the consequences of his actions).

in other words, bramblestar gets chance after chance to redeem himself, and he keeps fucking it up. again, that's interesting! there is a story here about how difficult childhoods affect adults, and how powerful men are not held responsible for hurting people. except that's not how he's written. he's written as a completely good person, a brave and noble leader, and all of the clans respect him and they need to get him back.

there's a crazy amount of bramblestar worship in this arc. even rootspring, a brand new skyclan apprentice, thinks about how important bramblestar, the thunderclan leader, is, and how all the clans wouldn't be the same without him. i can't take it seriously.

graystripe: graystripe also got a crazy amount of worship. i couldn't stand reading every few paragraphs about how great he is.

side note: shadowsight, bristlefrost, and rootspring all want the same thing. they advocate against killing bramblestar's body. wouldn't it be more interesting if the protagonists had different perspectives and opinions? if they wanted different things? for example, it makes sense that shadowsight wouldn't want bramblestar dead. he feels like the only way to make up for his mistake is to recover bramblestar alive. but bristlefrost could be in favor of killing bramblestar, because the only way to make up for her mistake (supporting the imposter) is to get rid of him. putting our protagonists at odds would generate some interesting conflict.

conclusion: i also have problems with ashfur (why does ashfur try to stir up trouble with codebreaking which will certainly get him caught when he could just take over bramblestar's body and live quietly with squirrelflight), tigerheartstar, mothwing, starclan, the dark forest insta-death water, firestar possessing rootspring, the pacing (oh my god! they were debating whether to kill bramblestar for like three books! and for three more books they were running in circles in the dark forest!), etc. but i've already written a lot and i'm out of steam lol.

let me finish by saying these are kids books, and i'm not expecting them to be the cream of the crop, but there are a lot of writing choices which are incredibly misogynistic and/or completely baffling from a narrative standpoint. i still have a soft spot for this series though. dammit. okay bye

[d1xonss]

Cigarettes After Sex

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 11

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : ⚠️ Smut (18+) and a lil bit of angst

✧ Word Count : 5.6k

AN ~ Not a request but I had this idea that I just couldn't get out of my head. Plus I've been in the mood to write something a little spicy since you guys liked the Older oneshots so much. Hope you enjoy!

Your eyes stayed focused on the pages of the book you were reading in front of you in the smoke filled garage, occasionally turning the pages to continue on with the chapter. In the background you could hear the tools clinking around, along with a few curses that fell from his lips when he couldn’t get something just right. Every once and a while you couldn’t help but look up and stare at him for a few seconds, knowing the real reason you came out here to keep him company while he worked.

Over the past twelve, long years you had known Daryl, you still didn’t exactly know what you were to each other. Some would call the two of you friends, and though that may be true, you always knew there was something a little more there than what meets the eye. And you knew he felt it too, but neither of you were willing to admit that out loud. Too hardheaded, you supposed.

It always caught your attention when he left a few lingering touches on your skin, how he embraced you so dearly as if you were the most important person in the world, or even how he occasionally left a small kiss on your forehead. You couldn’t help but think he did all of these things for a reason, as if to ease you into something that he was always terrified of. And hell, maybe he was easing himself into it too.

You always knew he was never much of a romantic person, he never quite showed interest in anyone else the way he always did with you. Though when he finally did open his heart up to a woman named Leah all those many years ago, he got absolutely crushed in the process, leaving you heartbroken for him as you witnessed him go through it all. In the back of your mind, you hoped it would work out between the two of them because you knew he deserved someone that would treat him right. And though that person may not have been you, it didn’t matter, as long as he was happy. That’s all you had ever wanted for him.

However, you couldn’t help but notice ever since he got hurt, he had been slowly pulling away from you. Not in a way that was drastic, but you always seemed to notice the little things. He had completely stopped showing you affection whatsoever which was very out of character for him considering how close you were. All of the little things he used to do that would make you smile, he had brought to a halt without warning. The only thing that he really did now was just a small squeeze on your shoulder, and that’s only if you were lucky.

It frustrated you slightly, not because of his sudden wall he built up, but because subconsciously he thought you would hurt him the same way she did. He was now scared that the same thing would happen all over again. And it bothered you in a way he could never understand. Because after all you had been through together, he still didn’t seem to know you at all.

“Pass me that screwdriver, will ya?”

Your thoughts cut short when he started to speak, absentmindedly nodding your head as you turned towards the toolbox that was placed right next to you. You dug through them for a moment before you spotted the familiar red handle, grabbing it and stretching your arm out to hand it over to him.

He met your hand halfway as he accepted it gratefully, “Thanks.” he muttered with a small smile, the cigarette still dangling from his lips as he spoke.

You nodded before watching him for another moment, tilting your head to the side, “What’re you fixing up anyway?”

He shrugged as his eyes stayed down, “Just some repairs…nothin too fancy.” he spoke, his eyebrows furrowing as he worked.

“Ah.” you muttered with a small nod, going back to your book as you assumed he didn’t want to be bothered while he focused.

Though upon hearing your small mutter, the quietness taking over the space, Daryl subtly looked back up at you for a moment. He knew things had been different, way different than what the two of you were used to, and a part of him felt bad. Mostly because he knew it was his own fault. He had pushed you away when you had done nothing wrong, and he felt guilty for it every single day.

With that in mind, he cleared his throat as he took a puff from his cigarette, “Ya still want me to teach ya?” he asked, his tone growing softer than before.

You glanced up from your book again, seeing the small smile he had on his face as he reminded you of something you had requested a long time ago. You had rode on the back of his motorcycle many times before, but a part of you wanted to learn how to ride all by yourself. And he clearly remembered.

A smile wormed its way onto your face as well as you nodded, “Yeah…yeah I’d like that.”

He nodded in return as he went back to tuning up his bike, “Gotta start ya off slow though. Can’t have ya crashin into some tree the first time ya get on.”

You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself with a roll of your eyes, “Right, we probably wouldn’t want that. But I think I’ll have a pretty good teacher…I’m not too worried.”

His heart swelled, though you couldn’t see, but that comment touched him in a way, “Yeah?” he asked as he looked back up at you.

You nodded again, “I trust you.”

You trusted him. That little comment meant more to him than you could even fathom. It meant that after all the things he had put you through, all the things he regretted, you still loved and trusted him just the same. He couldn’t help but pause for a long moment as he contemplated all of that, how only a few little words could mean the absolute world.

Though when he was lost in his own mind, the cigarette that he now held between his two fingers, slightly burned his skin as some hot ash fell from the tip. He let out a small noise as he shook it off, only now noticing how smokey the space was from how much he was chain smoking with you in the room. He knew you never cared, but a part of him still felt a little bad.

“Sorry.” he muttered as he raised his hand to fan the area a bit, “Didn’t realize how much I hotboxed ya.” he chuckled a little.

You laughed it off as well, waving him off, “You know I don’t mind. Actually I kinda like the smell.”

He raised his eyebrow a bit at the unexpected comment, looking down to the stick in his grasp as he thought about your words for a moment, “Ya never told me that.” he muttered.

You shrugged, “Never really came up I guess. But I don’t know, it’s always kind of been comforting.”

Daryl silently knew what that meant without you even having to explain. And that only made his chest fill with even more warmth than before, knowing he was the reason behind your words. He knew he meant a lot to you, but just hearing you say that his bad habit was somewhat of a comfort to you, it almost made his mindset shift.

You absentmindedly closed your book as you noticed he grew quiet, “You know any cool tricks?” you asked with a smirk.

He huffed quietly with a small smile, wordlessly taking another hit and holding it for a moment before effortlessly blowing it out in small spurts, the smoke forming into little o shapes in the air. You nodded to yourself as you watched him, “Solid.”

He chuckled a little, “Thank you, thank you.” he said as he bowed his head a bit.

Tilting your head a little, you thought to yourself about any more little tidbits he might have experienced, “Have you ever shotgunned it?” 

He raised an eyebrow at you, “Who’s askin?”

“Me.” you smiled sweetly.

He found himself chuckling again, shaking his head as a few memories came to mind, “Uh yeah…yeah I have.” he admitted a bit sheepishly, hoping you wouldn’t ask for any details.

A hum passed through your lips in response, opening your mouth to speak again, though he seemed to beat you to it, “You ever done anything like that?”

You scoffed, “Who’s asking?”

But he didn’t answer you. He only stared at you with the same small smile, however, there seemed to be something a little more behind his eyes. Though you couldn’t tell what that was, it intrigued you slightly. “No…” you answered honestly.

“Ya wanna try?”

It felt like your heart had dropped and settled into your stomach, swearing that you heard him wrong. “You’re not serious.”

But the smile on his face only grew a little, confirming to you just how serious he was as he nodded for you to come closer to him, “Come here.”

In all honesty he didn’t know what he was doing, and seeing the shock on your face only made the small pit in his stomach grow further, though he didn’t show it. He couldn’t really think in that moment at all about how this could be perceived, all he knew was that he wanted to be closer to you. Suddenly having a craving for it, having been without it for far too long.

A few beats of tense silence passed before you finally found the strength to stand to your feet, moving closer towards him as he stood tall as well. You tilted your head back a bit as you looked up at him, standing just a few inches away as you almost waited for him to instruct you on what to do next. Because in all honesty, you didn’t know what you were doing. 

His eyes traced over your face for a moment, almost wanting to ask you to stand a little bit closer to him, but ultimately he refrained. He knew he couldn’t be greedy with you, not when you were already so precious to him. He only held the cigarette out towards you, watching as your delicate hand took it from his grasp, all while never removing your gaze from his.

“Go on and take a long drag.” he instructed, his voice coming off in an anticipating whisper.

You only nodded your head in response, placing the end of it in between your lips as you slowly inhaled all the smoke it had to offer. Daryl couldn’t help but stare down at your lips the entire time, he studied you in the most mesmerizing way it almost caused you to choke on your own spit. Yet you still couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and it made you grow a little frustrated all over again.

Your heart then fluttered when the smoke filled your lungs, taking the cigarette away from your mouth as you leaned up on your tiptoes to get closer to him. His hand instinctively came up to cradle your jaw as he pulled you even closer to his lips, feeling them barely brush against each other before the blissful feeling would soon wash over the two of you.

Exhaling the smoke, you blew the thick cloud right into his mouth, hearing a quiet groan leave him in response. It surprised you how good it felt, how your skin practically ignited with fire at his simple sound of enjoyment, it made your mind wander to a very dangerous place. His hand didn’t stray away from your face as he inhaled the smoke until he physically couldn’t anymore, the craving he felt only building to a new level as a part of him wanted to taste you. Just for a moment.

But the thought vanished, everything crashing down in an instant as he felt you pull away from his mouth, clearing your throat a bit. His eyes fluttered open to see you standing there awkwardly, not knowing what to say as the two of you had never dared to cross this line before in the past.

“Well, I guess now I can cross that one off the bucket list.” you joked with a small, forced laugh.

“Do it again.”

Your eyes snapped back up to meet his as he spoke with zero hesitation in his tone, not even acknowledging that you made a comment at all. “What?” you asked quietly.

He took a small breath before speaking again, repeating the phrase, “Do it again.”

If you weren’t stunned before, you sure as hell were now as you stood almost frozen before him. To say it was one thing, but to repeat it with such confidence was another. He was serious. What started out as just a suggestion, now turned into something a lot more real.

But you found you didn’t protest. Because you wanted it too.

You then held the cigarette back up to your lips, inhaling it all over again as you were surprised you didn’t cough even once in the whole process. His eyes practically lit up as he saw you repeat the action, mentally preparing himself for the familiar feeling that would hit him all over again. But the thing he couldn’t get past was that he had never felt it before now. He only felt it with you. And it was very surreal.

Your perfect lips parted from the cigarette after what felt like a lifetime of waiting, moving back up to him to exhale the smoke into his mouth once more. The man breathed it in as if he needed it to stay alive, his hands coming up to your arms to hold you in place as if he was scared you would pull away again. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Not even if you wanted to. The slightest brush of your lips made your breath hitch, but before you could even register what you were doing, you pressed your lips firmly to his. It almost didn’t feel real.

Daryl responded immediately, instantly bringing you into him as he wrapped his arms around you to hold you closer to his chest. Your hands went up to the sides of his face, tilting your head a bit so your noses wouldn’t clash so much, the kiss intensifying in just a split second. It was like all the years of the built up tension, the built up feelings, were now finally being unleashed after so long of waiting. You supposed before it was never the right time, but now, it couldn’t have felt more perfect.

His tongue moved to run along your lips almost teasingly, begging for an entrance as his hands gripped you even tighter. And you accepted his request, parting your lips for him and feeling his excitement grow as he didn’t take it for granted. His tongue swirled rapidly in your mouth, letting out a groan of pleasure as he tasted your sweetness. You shivered slightly at the low rumble you heard from him, something about it turning you on even more as you had never heard that sound from him before. It was like a switch flipped.

He continued to absolutely devour your mouth, his hands now running down the curves of your body in a slow and teasing manner, taking his time. You gasped softly as you felt your skin almost tingling under his touch, wanting to feel him everywhere. So without thinking, you quickly moved your hands down to his chest as you frantically began to try and tear his shirt off of him. Your fingers worked on each of the buttons, though you couldn’t see what you were doing, it all felt like it was happening so fast you almost had no time to prepare yourself.

But in a fit of panic, Daryl quickly pulled back from your mouth as the feeling of you trying to take off his shirt finally registered in his mind. He still remained close to you, but his sudden actions stopped you from yours, your hands freezing in place as it was clear you had pushed him too far. But your expression was filled with confusion and concern as you couldn’t understand why he looked almost scared to go any further.

He sighed as his eyes remained closed, almost ashamed to look at your face as he gently leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours. “I…I can’t.” he whispered.

Your eyes seemed to widen as it clicked in your mind. He hadn’t done anything like this since Leah. Since he had been burned so badly by her. Since he was left shattered and heartbroken because of what she did to him. He opened up to her unlike anyone else, and she left him. A lump formed in your throat as the realization set in for you, seeing just how scared he was for this to potentially happen to him all over again.

“I can’t do this, I…I can’t lose you too.”

You sighed softly as you shook your head, your hands tilting his face up a little more, “Hey, look at me.” 

He simply shook his head, his eyes remaining closed, “Daryl, look at me.” you pleaded quietly.

When he did finally open his eyes, you could see he was starting to tear up, breaking your heart even further. Not only to see how much he was hurting, but how much he was truly terrified to lose you. Although in your mind, that wasn’t even a possibility.

“You couldn’t lose me, okay? Ever.” you whispered, “I’m not going anywhere. You know me…I would never hurt you like that. Never.”

Upon hearing your voice reassure him so sweetly, his tears slowly slipped down his cheeks, watching as he swallowed thickly to try and pull himself together. But you didn’t want him to be embarrassed. You understood more than he probably realized. Which is why you were quick to wipe them away with your thumbs, leaning up to kiss the ones you had missed in hopes to offer him even more comfort.

He shuttered under your touch, quickly finding your lips with his own again as he kissed you deeply, holding the back of your head steady as his lips were filled with passion. You responded to his kiss with hesitance, not wanting to push him again as you didn’t have a clear response to how he was feeling. But once you felt him take your hands, guiding them back up to the buttons on his shirt, you had your answer.

In a flurry of hurried kisses and laughs, nearly tripping over one another as you tried to make it back inside the house, the two of you finally landed on the couch in the living room. Neither of you really cared about trying to make it all the way upstairs, almost as if it was a silent agreement that you were both impatient. You panted heavily as each piece of fabric was being discarded onto the floor faster than you could even realize, yet his hands moved across your skin with such ease and gentleness. The action alone told you a thousand things, and yet he didn’t need to say a word.

You quickly lowered yourself to your knees the second you saw the opportunity, getting in between his legs as he sat on the couch. His eyes widened at your actions, “Aye, you don’t gotta-”

But his words were cut off with a groan as you lowered your mouth to the tip of his dick, darting your tongue out to slowly swirl around and tease him the smallest bit. You knew you didn’t have to, but you wanted him to feel special for once, you wanted him to feel important and loved. And besides, you just couldn’t help yourself as your mouth practically watered at the sight. And the small noises he was letting out as you licked sensually along his shaft, was almost like a reward of some kind.

He threw his head back slightly as his hands went up to hold your hair back for you, feeling you teasingly lower your lips just a little at a time to take more of him in your mouth. It was almost like torture with how slow you were going, but it was also the most enjoyable torture he could even endure. His muscles twitched in anticipation and he was already beginning to sweat, clenching his teeth together all the while.

“Come on,” he muttered breathlessly, talking more to himself than he was to you.

But you still took it as a sign, seeing he had enough and finally lowered your mouth even more to take him further. A shaky moan left his parted lips at your actions, hissing slightly when he felt your teeth barely brushing against him as well, though it wasn’t enough to hurt. Just enough to get his attention. You then began slowly bobbing your head up and down the length of him, swirling your tongue and hollowing out your cheeks to really make him squirm. His hands tightened around your hair in response, another low groan echoing around the room as he basked in the state of pleasure you provided.

His breathing grew heavier and heavier by the second, growing even more sensitive to you as your pace began to gradually pick up, trying to take even more of him in your mouth. You couldn’t lie though, he was bigger than what you had experienced in the past, which made you almost nervous. But hearing what you were doing to him so far, it gave you the right motivation you needed to keep going.

“F-Fuck.” he breathed as the tip of his dick hit the back of your throat, feeling your hands running up and down his thighs as you tried not to gag. Though he felt you struggle a bit, pulling your hair up slightly as if signaling you that you could ease up if you needed, but you didn’t. He felt too good in your mouth for you to want to stop.

Your head then moved a bit faster, taking him as deep as you could as you heard his whimpers and moans, not even trying to hold them back anymore. He wanted to make it known how good you were making him feel, just the sound of it was enough to make you wet, and he hadn’t even touched you yet. Your spit soaked him completely, making it almost easier to take him entirely in your mouth as you felt him hit the back of your throat almost every time with each pass.

His breath hitched, “Oh shit,” he muttered as he tried to regulate his breathing, “Ya need to get up here…come on.” he almost pleaded.

And you didn’t need to be told twice, feeling how hard he was now he was nearly throbbing in your mouth, knowing he was close to falling apart. So your lips slowly parted from his aching dick, leaving a few lingering kisses behind before you slowly stood back up to your feet with a smile. Looking at his face now, he gazed at you as if you put all the stars in the sky, as if you painted him the most beautiful sunset you could’ve ever laid your eyes on. Or as if you had given him the best head of his life.

He watched as you wiped your mouth from the spit that nearly dribbled down your chin, quickly reaching forward to pull you in and crash his mouth against yours, licking your lips completely clean. You giggled in response to his eagerness, attempting to remove your thong as it was the last thing in the way, struggling to kick it off your ankles. Though the moment it hit the ground, you instantly moved forward and broke away from his mouth for only a moment, straddling his hips as you hovered on top of him.

The man nearly gawked at the sight of you, “God…” he muttered as if he couldn’t find the words. But you knew what he was getting at, knowing that his actions always spoke louder than his words ever could. And he only proved that further when he lowered his mouth to one of your breasts, sucking gently at your nipple to elicit a small whimper from you.

You could feel his lip curl up in response to your little noises, his hand coming up to gently massage the other with his rough fingers. The scratchiness of his calloused palms made it even better somehow, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine as you lowered yourself a little more onto him in response. He hummed at your actions, encouraging you to continue as his mouth worked wildly along your breast.

One of your hands then moved down to gently guide his tip towards you, running it up and down your slit to gather the wetness that pooled there. Your chest heaved up and down as you were almost overwhelmed with the tingles running through your entire body, nearly causing you to shake. 

Daryl’s mouth then dragged all across your skin, leaving a small trail of small hickies along your chest, groaning as you continued to play with him a little. Your other hand came up to run through his hair, tilting your head back a little as you dragged his dick up to circle around your pulsing clit. That seemed to cause you both to gasp, the slow and tormenting teasing beginning to be too much as Daryl quickly removed his mouth from you, his hands moving to your hips as if to position you in the most perfect way he could.

You followed his lead as your hands moved up to his shoulders to steady yourself, feeling him move his dick down to your entrance to align himself with you. And when you finally sunk down onto him, it felt like absolute heaven. A long, slow moan left your lips as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, hearing a harsh grunt escape him as he tried to refrain from pounding into you. He knew he needed to take his time, wanting to draw this out for as long as he could as if it were the first and last time. He hoped for more, he prayed for more, but he knew it was never guaranteed.

His forehead fell to rest in the middle of your chest as the two of you basked in the pure errotic experience, slowly managing to move your hips once you were ready. It was slow at first, gradually easing into it as you lowered yourself back down onto him again and again, your hands moving to grip the back of his hair. He groaned as he felt you tug a little at his roots, but in all honesty, he didn’t care. In fact, he liked it.

You moaned softly as you rocked your hips against his, pulling almost all the way off of him before he filled you completely once more. What you were feeling was almost indescribable, not having felt it with any other man you had been intimate with in your entire life. But with him, it felt so different, so incredibly good. Like his body was made for yours, fitting together perfectly like a puzzle piece you had been missing for far too long. And you weren’t the only one feeling like that, with him squirming beneath you, it was just a sign to not stop your movements anytime soon.

You bounced on him at a steady pace as you balanced yourself, feeling his hand travel down to rub slow circles along your clit with his thumb. You nearly cried out in response, your heart racing out of your chest, “Oh fuck…yes.” you breathed as his pace quickened.

“Yeah? Ya like that?” he asked as his face moved close to whisper in your ear, feeling his teeth gently bite down on your earlobe.

Your mouth fell open in response as you gasped, nodding your head frantically, “Yes…yes.” you moaned as you continued to rock against him, feeling your wetness drip all over him with how aroused you were.

“Mmm,” he hummed his mouth traveling down to kiss along your jawline, “You’re doin so good sweetheart.” he breathed as he held back a groan, “So good.”

His praise only spurred you on more, your fingers tugging a bit harder at his hair which caused him to groan, thrusting his hips up into you to match your pace. The sinful sounds that escaped you should never be heard by anyone, you couldn’t even believe you were the one making them. But he was the one to cause all those little reactions, adding something more to push you over the edge. And it was working too, you had felt it ever since you were down on your knees in front of him. The familiar tingling in your stomach was building to the point where it could spill over at any moment.

He panted heavily as he began to suck on the base of your neck, “I love you…God, I love you.” he whispered.

The words threw you off guard for a moment as your eyes widened, but you didn’t stop, nor were you scared to say it back. “I love you too.” you responded breathlessly.

That phrase had gone unspoken between the two of you for years, constantly avoiding saying it to each other for no reason at all. Perhaps it was stubbornness, or just the fear of the feelings not being reciprocated. But for whatever reason, this moment alone brought it out to the open. And it couldn’t have felt better.

Daryl thrusted deeper into you upon hearing your response, causing you to gasp as you felt the string finally snap inside you, releasing your orgasm as your muscles twitched. Feeling you squeezing him, he cursed as he quickly pulled himself out of you in one swift motion, cumming all over your stomach. You could’ve sworn your vision went black for a moment as you slowly came down from your blissful high, not a word being said for a few minutes at least as you both tried to regain yourselves. 

His head rested against your chest again, his lips beginning to leave a trail of kisses up your skin as your eyes were still hazy, leading them up to your neck where he nuzzled his face, pulling you close to his chest. You hummed in response, running your fingers through his hair as you thought to yourself for a moment, finally finding the strength to speak.

“Did you…really mean that?” you whispered hesitantly.

He pulled his face back to look at you, his head still too far up in the clouds that he clearly didn’t hear you. The big grin on his face was evidence of that. “Hm?”

You huffed with a small smile, “The whole…I love you thing…did you really mean it? Or was it like the heat of the moment.”

His brows furrowed in concern as he gently cupped the sides of your face, “Of course I meant it. I love you.” he repeated again, as if to make sure you really heard him.

You smiled in slight relief, “Did you mean it?” he asked with a smirk.

“Yes.” you said with a breathy laugh, “I just…wanted to make sure.”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean, darlin,” he said as he leaned in to rub his nose against yours lovingly, “I’ve always loved ya…my dumbass just took too long to admit it.”

You shook your head in response, “It’s okay. I understand why.”

He sighed quietly as he thought about how much he may have missed out on, how much went down the drain just because he was scared. Not only to have his heartbroken, but to potentially lose one of his best friends if you didn’t feel the same way he did. There was always a risk, but he let the fear consume him, and now he was kicking himself for it seeing how easy it was to be with you. He should’ve always known, and now he felt he was too late.

You quickly noticed his change in his expression and gently tilted his chin up so he’d look at you, “Hey…what’s wrong?”

He shook his head, “M’ just…m’ sorry.”

“For what?” you asked in confusion.

“For not actin on this years ago. For pushin ya away when I was hurtin just because I was nervous about it happenin all over again.” he stopped suddenly to gather his thoughts, “I just feel like I wasted so much time.” he finished with a whisper.

Your face was filled with worry about hearing him apologize for something that he had nothing to be sorry for. It hurt you seeing how much this was affecting him, knowing that the two of you should be happy that it finally happened. Not wanting to dwell on the past.

You leaned in to gently kiss his lips for a moment, pulling away enough to speak, “Well, it’s a good thing we got all the time in the world now.” you smiled.

His eyes slowly filled with a little more hope, “You mean…”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I love you.” 

He let out a small breath he was unaware he was holding, pulling you close to press multiple kisses all over your face, “I love you too.” he whispered, continuing to trace his lips wherever he could reach, igniting an infectious laugh from you.

It seemed his prayers were answered. 

~ Thanks for reading!

[inmyheaddd]

✦ public displays of trouble affection - percy jackson x reader

summary: a boarding school au, where percy is the most annoying boy you’ve ever met, and becomes the reason you get in trouble for the first time ever. the worst part? hes not even sorry— he’s just laughing the whole time! wc: 1k

you were doing your best to stay focused, really. the museum your class was visiting was quiet apart from the low chatter of your classmates, filled with dimly lit displays of ancient artifacts and paintings that all seemed to blend together after a while. you were leaning closer to read a plaque about some old pottery when you felt the tiniest nudge against your shoulder. 

you shot percy a warning look, but he just grinned back at you, all wide-eyed innocence. you turned back to the exhibit, ignoring him, but—seconds later—another nudge.

“percy, seriously, cut it out,” you muttered, keeping your eyes forward. he only grinned wider, pretending not to hear as he nudged you again. 

you finally turned to look him in the eye, but then he spoke again. 

“that one reminds me of you,” he said, pointing to quite possibly the ugliest painting of a seal you’d ever seen.

you scoffed, nudging him back harder. “oh, you’re real funny.” in hindsight, maybe that was a little mean—he hadn’t even nudged you that hard. but this was percy, the most annoying boy in the history of ever, so you didn’t really care.

he gave you a once-over, that infuriating spark of amusement in his eyes. “oh, is that how it is?” he asked, eyebrow raised, the grin on his lips growing wider.

you crossed your arms, tilting your chin up, daring him to try anything else. “yes, it is.”

“alright, then,” he said, cocking his head to the side, and before you could react, he gave you a tiny push with both hands. it wasn’t a hard push, but you weren’t expecting it, so your arms uncrossed as you caught your balance, furrowing your brows at him.

“percy! what the hell?” you said, but you were already laughing despite yourself. 

without even thinking, you shoved him back— way harder. 

he barely stumbled though, and you were just about up to push him again when you froze at the sound of your name from behind.

your teacher stood there, a scowl set firmly on her face. “stop this foolish behavior. we are in a public space,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “you’re setting a bad example, while wearing the school uniform. is this really how you want to represent our school?”

whatever was left of your smile faded. of course the moment she turned around was when you pushed him. 

“no…” you muttered, heat creeping up your face as you heard percy snickering beside you, trying to disguise his laugh by pretending to look interested in some dinosaur bones.

“you’re usually so responsible,” she continued, looking at you with mild disappointment. “what’s gotten into you?”

you heard percy snort under his breath, and saw him cover his mouth with his hand out of the corner of your eye. you wanted to slap that smirk he was trying to hide off his face. 

how come he wasn’t the one in trouble? 

“nothing, miss,” you mumbled, shaking your head quickly. “i’m sorry.”

“alright,” she said with a sigh. “don’t let it happen again, otherwise you won’t be able to go on trips again.” it took all your energy to not groan in annoyance right then— but you ended up just nodding.

it was like percy could sense your frustration, and you could just as well sense that stupid grin on his face growing.

she finally turned away, heading off to talk to another group.

the second she was gone, percy practically doubled over, his laughter barely contained. you turned around and glared at him, fists clenched.

you never got in trouble. this wasn’t even fair! sure, you weren’t in real trouble, but you never got shouted at either.

“shut up.” you grumbled, “you’re such a pain, this is all your fault.” you stood there, arms crossed, watching as he bit his lip, still grinning.

“but, you’re usually so responsible!” he mocked your teacher and teased you all in one go, “what’s gotten into you?” 

he gave you a quick, teasing once-over. 

“it’s hard to be responsible when i have someone as annoying as you around.” you retorted, crossing your arms once again. 

“oh, so you’re saying my presence makes you act differently?” he teased, tilting his head to the side. “don’t flatter me, you’re too kind.”

“wha— no!” you scrambled for your words, which is something that usually never happens.

“that is so not what i meant, and you know it!” you exclaimed, and percy just chuckled harder, raising an eyebrow at you like he didn’t believe you, just to annoy you further. 

it was working.

you huffed, “you’re so insufferable!” he shook his head with a laugh, looking you up and down before he turned around, only laughing harder as he walked to some other classmates, and clapped one of his friends on the back. 

how come he didn’t annoy anyone else like he annoyed you? 

in the next instant with an exasperated sigh, you walked over to your friends, hoping to complain about how much of a nightmare percy was being, but they barely let you get a word in.

“oh my god, percy, stoppp!” one of them cooed, putting on an overly sweet voice as she clasped her hands in front of her. “you’re so annoying!”

another friend batted her eyelashes dramatically. “seriously, how do you put up with him? he must be the worst.”

heat rose to your cheeks. fast.

“what do you guys even mean?” you muttered. “you’re making make no sense.”

another friend snorted, “please, be so honest with yourself right now.” and then as if to prove her point, she starting nudging your other friend, reenacting what had just happened with percy.

“perrrcyyyyy,” she drawled in a voice that didn’t even sound like you, pushing your other friend dramatically, “you’re soo insufferable!”

then your friend put on a deep voice that definitely did not sound like percy. “ahahaha, don’t flatter me, push me again, i like it.” she ran a hand through her hair, narrowed her eyes bit her lip and in an attempt to ‘act like a boy’.

“guys, what?” you exclaimed with your eyes wide in horror. “that didn’t even happen! stop!”

they all just started laughing harder, “i swear, you’re not funny,” you muttered, feeling your face heat up even more. 

you turned around, fear fading momentarily as you saw percy still facing the other way, completely oblivious. a wash of relief washed over you—at least he hadn’t heard.

but then, as if he could sense your gaze, he glanced over his shoulder. he locked eyes with you, that stupid grin still there, then he raised one teasing brow at you, telling you he definitely had heard. 

taglist: @lovethornes @littlemissmentallyunstable @midiosaamor @maybxlle @imaseabear 

@sheisntyou @off-to-the-r4ces @anintellectualintellectual @wish-i-were-heather @hxress23

@hermesenthusiast

[witchygod]

Thinking about Kenji Sato Flanderization

I think certain scene with Kenji certainly stood out out about Kenji for fans, particularly the "do my own thing" and "I know it's been a long year but you got me now" scenes and I've noticed a trend where Kenji is characterized as well honestly a bit of an asshole, sometimes to an unlikable degree so let's talk about it.

I also think these scenes have paid into some instances of flanderization of Kenji's character. Yes he's a bit arrogant and witty but he's not as egotistical as everyone thinks- he's certainly not as RUDE as everyone seems to perceive him though he does have a temper. It should be noted his temper only seems to come through when he's extremely stressed or on the field- in conflict. He's very graceful in how he handles Ami's questions as wel. He only gets snarky with his coach because his coach approached him first with abundant hostility which I'm gonna be real- not the kind of behavior that is ideal, one could argue he was trying to weigh Kenji's value but with the context of Kenji being a world series player in America this is value as an athlete that should be proven already, if he's concerned about Kenji's arrogance that'd be another thing and while that's certainly AN issue but he admits it plainly what it is 'this is Japanese baseball not American' and Kenji responding to that with a bit of disrespect is extremely fair- and coming from his coach it very much paints the tone of how he's gonna be interacting with his teammates.

A large part of Kenji's rudeness is a direct result of hostility or an active defense from either invasive questions perceived attacks on how 'japanese he is'. This is not a subtle sub theme of his character mind you- he straight up admits to Ami that the reason he 'doesnt give a shit' is because he had to learn to because he was always being judged for being Japanese in America.

Let's not get it wrong though- Kenji is arrogant and egotistical because seriously who gives out their autograph without being prompted. These are some traits, but he's not entirely up his own ass, and he's not rude (Mama Sato raised a very good boy... Ultradad helped too) . Aside from when he was pissy with her for asking some extremely personal questions off the back at a press event- Kenji is extremely respectful of Ami, he makes sure to remember the reporters by their names not publicist and while he's not humble he's very sociable. Hell he's even polite talking to the Kaiju- actively taking a gentler tone of voice with Gigantron despite his frustrations (and increasing panic over the fact the KDF is going to kill her and he can't figure out how to stop it)- he's snarky with Mina but even then he isn't entirely dismissive of her, honestly he treats an AI more like family than a servant which is a big difference in attitude than most egotistical superheroes with ai companions.

Kenji is not the sort to be a womanizer hell he doesn't even seem the sort to attend parties unless he's forced to, it's pretty clear he's a bit of a loner- this is evident as much as there is never a mention to him missing his teammates in America and the fact the only person he has to talk to in Japan aside from his father is an acquaintance he's not even certain won't publish his personal conversations with. (She won't because she's a fucking professional with ethics which is also the reason that she's not a love interest God bless I love you Ami💕) He's overwhelmed by relearning how to fit in to Japan, dealing with the xenophobia,adjusting to the new culture of baseball become Ultraman deal with his daddy issues and mourning the disappearance of his mother- all things that heavily influence his attitude and a lot of times seem to be overlooked by people.

We take away one or two of those stressors Kenji goes from snarky and arrogant to a whole lot more sociable and pleasant. He's at his core a sensitive and confident individual who's just really passionate about baseball. He's kind enjoys teaching others about his special interest and is charismatic and bold despite being prone to holding people at arms length. Which is fair because he has a lot of dangerous secrets.

In short Kenji Sato is just a Mama's boy girl(jk)

In short Kenji Sato is a pretty complex character who suffers from a decent amount of emotional constipation and just straight up having no friends. He's respectful and kind and a bit sensitive which can make him seem pretty temperamental and he's prone to pushing people away at the first sign of hostility or when they overstep his boundaries. He's extremely stressed throughout the movie and adjusting to a lot of NEW, and the KDF/Kaiju trying to get chunks out of him and the pretty blatant xenophobia from the baseball scene (ill justified by him playing badly :/) doesn't help.

I also didn't mention much of his reluctance to being a hero and his irresponsibility to the role initially I realized and I think that should be its own subject because what's going on there is less a personality thing and more.... Directly correspondent to his relationship with his father, and the fact he was GROSSLY unprepared for the role. But I do want to note that his sense of responsibility is a lot stronger than people think because it doesn't really take a lot to convince him to do the right thing after Nobiranga's death. If he was still prone to inaction after this event I'd chalk it up to a personality defect but no he's pretty quick to make more of an effort as Ultraman after this, he saw the consequences of his actions and while he's gonna whine about it he does what he has to.

I may also go on a Rant Rant later about his coach and how the next movie really needs to try to save his character because he's shit at his job....

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

Tom catches Evans trying to sneak into the Restricted Section for the third time that week a couple days later.

He knocks on the door frame – the element of surprise did him no favours last time – and leans against it casually. “Hard at work, Evans?”

Evans looks up at him with a glare that could strip paint, before turning the glare back to his book.

“It must be serious, to demand so much of your focus.”

No response.

“Perhaps I can help you with your research,” he offers. “I’m quite good at it.”

“What do you want, Riddle.” From the frustrated tone to the tense body language, it’s clear this is not really a question. More of a muggle sirens-and-lights warning.

“Why are you so convinced that I want something from you?” 

“You’re a Slytherin, of course you want something.”

Tom doesn’t bother to point out that Evans is also a Slytherin; he gets the sense it’s a sore spot.

“And yet you don’t exhibit such scorn for either Malfoy or Black. What makes me so deserving of your suspicion?”

Evans snorts. “Those two couldn’t disguise what they’re really after if their lives depended on it. And neither of them is trying to get into my pants.”

“Well, more fool them.”

Evans sputters, flushing up to his ears.

“Piss off, Riddle!” The boy stands up, flinging the book closed (time magic, Tom notes – something to consider later) and almost falling over in his rush to leave as he gets tangled in his chair.

Tom darts a hand out and grabs onto Evans’ wrist before he can escape.

He narrows his eyes and considers the evidence. It’s a disproportionate reaction to an innocuously flirtatious comment. Tonight's efforts to take Evans to bed (or the table, or against the wall – he’s not picky) might be a wash, but perhaps he can learn something to improve his chances in the future.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Evans scoffs, looking increasingly distraught. “Everything’s wrong! And you being weird doesn’t help.”

“Weird?” Tom says, a little offended. “If my advances are unwanted, just say the word, but there’s nothing weird–”

“Stop playing with me!”

“Why do you think I’m playing with you?”

Evans snorts derisively. “As if someone like you would be interested in someone like me.”

That brings Tom up short. Is something so trivial the only obstacle?

“Do you think so little of yourself?”

“My self-esteem is neither here nor there,” Evans says irritably. “And jesus, how big is your ego – I don’t want you, so there must be something wrong with me?”

“I didn’t say that. What did you mean by ‘someone like you’ and ‘someone like me,’ then?”

“I’m a nobody, Riddle,” Evans says after a brief pause. “No fortune to speak of, no connections in high places, no real future prospects. There’s nothing exceptional about me. And you,” he hesitates, weighing his words. “You are exceptional – you would accept nothing less for or from yourself. People expect great things from you, and I have no doubt you could achieve them.”

The boy looks straight into his eyes. “But I do doubt your ability to tell the difference between ‘great’ and ‘terrible.’” 

Tom feels a shiver slide down his spine, his breath catching in his throat. He wants to peel Evans open and find out what he knows, why he thinks that, who the hell he thinks he is to say such a thing to him. At the same time, Tom wants to get as far away from the suddenly strange boy, and that’s far more manageable at the moment.

He casts a quick obliviate and returns to his dorm. Sleep is long in coming to Tom that night.

(Tom Riddle’s Guide to Repeatedly Failing to Get Laid in the Restricted Section)