#he's actually always been like this guys; it just took a while to see it in games

[whatifitis]

♡ In Between - FC 43 ♡

Summary: You and Franco has a nice night in, when you start to think about your guys relationship and wonder if it's time you tell him that you really like him.

WC: 2320

CW: overuse of song references, nothing really, it's quite fluffy, maybe some negative thoughts the reader has about themselves?

It’s a Saturday night, one of the least chaotic ones now that your best friend is a driver in F1. Franco was called up to fill Logan's seat for the rest of the season which is beyond exciting and you couldn’t be more proud. The only downside is that his schedule is so much more packed now that he’s getting acknowledgement from so many teams and people. All this new media coverage feels so insane. And something that doesn’t help is the fact that you’ve slowly been falling for Franco.

The two of you have been friends for a while. But in recent months, you’ve started to see him in a different light. You’re sure it’s just a crush but it’s been well over 2 months that you’ve felt this way. Some say that crushes only last about 2 months, once you’re past that mark, you’re actually in love with the person. You hoped this crush would go away, afraid to ruin what you have with Franco. Your relationship with him is the best that’s ever happened to you. You never want to lose him. But alas, the crush did not go away. So now you’re here.

It’s a bit late into the evening now. Franco asked you out for lunch earlier and now the two of you are lying on his bed, watching American Pie. The two of you were lying on the bed, side by side. Franco was lying with his back against the bed's headboard while you lied next to him on your side. The safest place you’ve ever known, next to him.

The two of you were halfway through the movie when he asked you a question that you didn’t quite catch the first time, so you angle your head up to look at him. As soon as you locked eyes with him, Franco couldn’t help but laugh. When you moved your head to look at him, your glasses had skewed on your face.

His laugh always was so contagious, it always got you laughing too. When you two had calmed your laughing fits, Franco took his hand and adjusted your glasses into the right position, before leaning forward and gently kissing your forehead.

“You’re beautiful… and funny… And smart. Like nothing I’ve ever seen.” You turned to bury your face in your hands, trying to hide your blushing face. You love it when he talks, not just about you. About anything really, he’s your favorite yapper and you wish you could listen to him all day. Your favorite sound ever.

“Hey, let me see that beautiful face again.” Franco says, grabbing your hand and moving it from your face. “Hi” he says when he can see you again. “Hi” you reply, smiling so hard. It was so hard to believe this was real, your guy's friendship. It was the type of relationship you’d always dreamed of, that sort of naive and innocent relationship that was filled with laughter and joy and… love? Was it too soon to use that word? Maybe considering you were just friends… Just. Friends.

“So,” Franco started, pulling you out of your thoughts, “What’s the dream?” “The dream?” you look at him, confusion written all over your face. “Yeah, the dream. Your dream. What you’re working towards.”

You laid there for a beat, thinking about it. What was your dream? All this time, you’ve just been focusing on surviving, not so much on the living.

“Um, I’m not sure. I’ve never really thought about it. I guess I want to finish my masters degree in uni. Then after that, just… live, I guess.” you look up at him with a smile. “That’s it? You don’t have any other goals or anything?” - his eyebrows furrow, showing you a confused expression. You shake your head no. “You’re kidding.” - Franco snorts in disbelief. “Well, what are yours? Your plans, goals.” You ask as you sit up against the headboard of the bed. “Em, well, I guess F1 was always a big goal, and now I have it.” he sits there for a second, thinking, twisting his lips as he does, “I’ve also always wanted to have a nice house for my family.” “What does this house look like?” you ask. He takes a moment to think, trying to come up with an honest answer for you. “I never really thought about that to be honest. I just want something nice with enough space for my family. I think a pool in the back would be nice. A big backyard so we could have barbecues as well.”

You’re smiling at him, admiring the person in front of you. You could find the whole meaning of life in those eyes. You’re glad he gets you, and your dark sense of humor. And when you let him in on all your bad decisions, he made them feel less terrible the second that he’d listen.

Don’t stop talking to me. Maybe stay here forever, with me.

“I think that sounds lovely.” you say. “Thank you.” he replies, blushing at your words, “What about your house? Your dream house. Surely you have a dream house.”

You sit up straight, so ready to answer this question. You won’t lie when you say you’ve always wanted to be asked about this. “I do. Um, well it would have a green kitchen. I saw a picture of one online a while ago and just became obsessed with the idea. And the bathrooms would be pink and red, I just think that would look sick. Oh! I also really want a blue hallway.” Franco gives you a confused look, “A blue hallway? For what?” “There’s this band that I love and in one of their music videos, the band painted a wall in the house blue.” “Ah. Which song is the one for the blue wall?” “It’s called True Blue. It’s a song about the person you love and who loves you. This person knows you so well, maybe even more than you know yourself.” “Interesting” he nods his head as he mentally writes down the name of that song so he can listen to it later. He turns his body more towards you, asking “Do you have a true blue?” “I think I’m slowly discovering mine” - you confess. “What about you? Got a true blue yourself?” He looks at you before looking down at his hands and failing to suppress a smile. “Yeah, I do.” “Well, go on. Tell me about them.” you insist. “She’s really cool.”

She? Was he talking to someone else? No, don’t be like that. Maybe it’s just a friend or something? Right?

“She is also really smart.”, he continues, “She loves reading and not only listening to music but also creating it.” Is he talking about me? I do that. “And she’s really good at that. She’s also the hardest working person I know. Like I mean she’s really smart, like Einstein smart.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at this. He’s definitely exaggerating but you have to admit, you’re pretty fucking smart.

“Oh, is she now? She must be one hell of a catch” “Oh trust me. She is and I’m very lucky to have her. She’s also the most beautiful person I’ve ever known. Not just on the outside, that’s an added bonus. But she’s just incredible. And she laughs at all my jokes. And when I save the dirty ones for her, her nose crinkles. It’s really cute actually. Her voice as well, oh my god. The best sound ever. Like when there’s something she’s really interested in or really passionate about, she could talk for hours. That’s one of my favorite things about her. That and her laugh, I wish I could bottle up the sound of her laugh and keep it with me, so I can listen to it whenever I want. Don’t even get me started on how she is with my family. They all get along so amazingly, it’s so much greater than anything I could ever imagine. I think one of the selling points was my family loving her as much as I do. This girl also will drop everything for those she loves. It doesn’t matter if she has work or school or anything, she will drop it just to make sure you’re okay. And she will beat anyone’s ass if they hurt you. I think I’m falling for her. I don’t wanna look at anything else now that I’ve seen her. Now it’s like there’s daylight. Whenever I’m with her, everything feels okay.” “Wow.” is all you can say in this moment. Was he really talking about you? Or are you wishfully thinking he is? “Yeah”, he blushes, “wow”

You take a moment to take all that information in. Maybe he wasn’t talking about you. You clearly see how amazing he is, other people are able to as well. Your mood kind of dampens from these thoughts. You really thought you two could be something. You guess you made it all up in your head, it’s just all one sided.

“What’s wrong?” Franco asks. “Hm? What?” you respond, startled from the sudden break of silence. “What’s wrong? You kind of spaced out.” “Oh, nothing. Was just thinking.” “About?” he responds, sitting up from the bed to lean a bit closer to you. “It’s really nothing. Let’s keep watching the movie” you try to smile and lighten the mood again.

You move to raise the volume on the tv, but you feel Franco’s hand wrap around your wrist lightly. You turn back to look at Franco. He looks confused, and a bit scared?

“Wait, I need to talk to you.”

Oh shit

You return to your spot on the bed, not fully relaxing as his last sentence is kind of terrifying. “Yeah, of course. What’s up?” “I need to tell you something… about that girl.” “Oh”

Damn, alright. Keep bragging about how it’s not me, I guess.

“Well, I know she often thinks negatively about herself. Like she doesn’t deserve that type of stuff. Like love and happiness. She also has a hard time believing that people really do care about her. But I do, I love and care about her so much. And I know she’s afraid of letting people in, and she’s let me in a bit, but I want more with her.”

Ok, fuck me then. Wow, leave it to Franco to absolutely break my heart, unknowingly.

“So, what did you need from me?” “You dumb ass, it’s you! You’re the girl. You’re my true blue.” he lightly laughs.

What.

“What.” you stare at him blankly.

What the fuck? Is he for real right now? How though?

“I like you. I want more with you! You’re my true blue! I want you for worse or for better. I would wait for ever and ever.” - his tone is quiet as he confesses his feelings for you. You sit there silent for a moment before catching something. “Bitch, did you just quote Taylor Swift?!”

He looked to the side for a minute, as if he was thinking or trying to remember something while he pursed his lips. “Yeah?” he laughs, “I know you like her a lot so I listened to her a lot to try and learn some of her songs. They’re pretty good”

I’m going down without a fight, I don’t know how he does this. He makes me really nervous. What is he doing to me now?

“You listened to her… just for me?” you ask, still hesitant on whether he’s being serious or just messing with you. Cause you’re still falling for him and you can’t stop. This might be the thing that breaks you if it doesn’t end well.

“Yes. Staying up with you, despite the space between us. I’ve never felt so close to someone. You came out of the blue like a shooting star. You wait and wait for it to appear, and when it does, it illuminates its surroundings, just for a second. And that is the feeling that I want to feel forever. Everytime I get to see you, it’s like you illuminate every space you walk into.”

What if he’s my weakness?

“I- I don’t know what to say. All this time, I’ve been keeping on my mind on the running away. And for the first time, I’d consider to stay. I know I make the same mistakes a lot and I never learn. But I think I did one thing right.” you say, smiling as his starry eyes spark up this dark night.

He’s looking at you with so much admiration in his eyes.

“I got so damn close to packing it up, then you happened. I’ll never leave out the back door and I don’t plan on running away from the good things anymore.” - you continue.

The two of you just sat there in silence, staring at each other with smiles plastered on your faces. Franco is the first to break, moving closer to you, leaning close to grab the side of your face.

Breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out

You’re close enough to feel each other breathe. Just one inch closer and… His lips are on yours, connecting gently. They’re warm and soft. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling your bodies closer together. At the same time, Franco brings his other arm to wrap around your torso, grabbing the side of your waist so you don’t slip away. It’s like taking your first breath of air in years. You feel his lips on yours as butterflies erupt in your stomach.

After a few moments, you break the kiss, needing to actually take in some air. Franco’s hand is still on the side of your face, slowly he slides it down to connect your fingers with his.

“Can I be yours?” he asks, “Your forever true blue?” he asks. “Forever and always”

[verycoolusername1]

Heartbreak is one thing, my ego's another

Summary: Luke meets your parents, which leads to taking a huge step in your relationship.

Luke Hughes x gn!reader

Warning! Mentions of a embarrassing childhood story(that I have made up((it isn't that bad) 😔)

A/N: I have never been more tired but man is Hotch(from criminal minds) so damn fine in the earlier seasons- I miss him more every single day.

And I gave your parents names to help me keep track of them... guys say hi to Bobby and Athena(definitely wasn't taken from a certain fox/abc show about first responders whatsoever)!!

You fixed your hair for what felt like the tenth time in the past five minutes. Luke groaned quietly besides you, wanting to do nothing more than to hold you.

Yours and Luke's relationship was fairly new, only ten months in, and you decided it was time for him to meet your parents.

"Are you done now?" Luke asked the question for the 3rd time.

You sighed. "Yes, I'm just nervous. Everything needs to be perfect."

Your parents were coming in to visit you since Luke and the team were staying home a couple of days.

"Everything is going to be perfect, no need to stress." He kissed the crown of your head.

"Well, I'm sorry for wanting my parents to like you." You joked, but it did nothing to ease your nerves.

The doorbell rings, scaring the two of you.

"Shit," you cursed. "They're here." You grabbed Luke's hand and took him to the living room but not before fixing his shirt and hair.

"My hair is fine, baby stop it." Luke swats your hand away.

"No, it's not," You continued to fix it before the doorbell rang again, and you sighed in frustration. "Don't touch it."

Luke rolls his eyes. "Aye aye captain."

You walked up to the door and were greeted by your parents.

"Oh Y/N there you are." Your mother smiled warmly at you.

"I was beginning to think we were at the wrong place." Your dad joked.

"Just had to fix stuff up is all." You said, but you didn't miss your mom's glance. "Not like that, mom!"

Your mom only chuckled in response, moving past you. "Now, where's this boy you keep talking about?"

"He has a name." You told her.

"Which is?" Your dad snickered at your mom's patience.

"Luke." He appeared from the bedroom. "Luke Hughes. It's a pleasure to meet you both, Mrs. and Mr. Y/L/N."

"Oh please, sweetie, call me Athena." Your mom looked at him warmly.

Your dad shook his hand. "Bobby is fine. No need to be formal son."

While they shook hands, your mom whispered to you. "He sure is tall."

"Yeah I know, you should see his brothers." You told her.

Your mother's eyes widened. "There's more??"

"Just two mom, both older." You answered.

"So tell me about yourself, Luke, Y/N was just telling me you had two brothers." Athena spoke.

The four of you guys recently moved to the kitchen as you got the plates.

"Uh yeah, two older brothers, Quinn and Jack. We actually live with Jack, Y/N cause I asked and me and Jack work together. He makes appearances here and there mostly to tease us."

"Yeah, siblings tend to do that." Bobby chuckles.

"You said you and Jack work together? What do you guys do?" Athena asked.

"Oh uh actually me and my brothers play hockey, professionally." He answered.

"So your other brother Quinn isn't on the same team with you two." Bobby put the pieces together.

"Yeah, don't get to see him much during the season, but during the summer, we hang out all the time." Luke adds.

You came back with plates, clearly struggling. Something that Luke had noticed.

"Hey baby, cmon, let me." He took two of the plates away from you and served your parents.

Your parents observed the scene with a silent conversation between eyes.

"I was doing fine, Luke." You sighed.

"You were totally going to drop the plates. You don't have to do things by yourself. You can always ask Jack and I to help, I tell you that all the time." Luke mumbles.

"Y/N was always known for being stubborn. It'll take them a while to finally let you help." Bobby reassuranced Luke.

"Yeah, like once when they were younger, they were so sure they were going to be a lawyer." Athena says an example. "But refused to ask for any advice from their aunt who was a district attorney, said they wanted to do it by themselves and didn't need help from anyone."

"Sounds like Y/N, alright." Luke chuckles but quickly stops when he sees your glare.

You noticed your parents seem to be welcoming Luke in with open arms, which was a shock, considering the last time you brought your ex home, they were furious. But then again, you were also a teenager. Now you're an adult.

Your dad seemed to catch the interaction between the two of you and laughed. "Don't be mean to your boyfriend Y/N." He scolds playfully.

"I wasn't being mean just warning him is all." You smiled innocently.

Now your mother started laughing. "We certainly raised them well."

"Yeah, no, we did." Bobby chuckles alongside his wife.

The four of you ate the meal with laughter and jokes till it was time for your parents to leave.

Your dad talking with Luke before pulling him into a hug, your mom pulled you to the side.

"He's good for you, Y/N." She said, you nodded.

"I know." You smiled softly.

"Don't let him slip through your fingers honey." She hugged you. "And let him help you from time to time." She winked.

You groaned. "I thought we was over that."

"Oh please we'll never get over that sweetie." She kissed you on the cheek. "We'll text you when we get back, love you."

"Love you guys, too." And with that, you shut the door.

"That went better than expected." Luke says beside you.

"If your definition of better is disaster. Just promise me one thing, baby?" You looked at him.

"Anything." He hummed.

You looked at him sternly. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid... like ever in front of me, or I will break up with you."

Luke chuckles. "Noted."

[rainbow-nerdss]

The Abby of it all

(figured I should get what I've got of this posted before tonight... Just in case 👀)

Buck shouldn't be upset about this. It's been years, the mention of Abby should not send him into a spiral. He's happy right now! He's in a good place, with Tommy, and with his life in general. The only thing missing is Chris, and… he's hopeful there, too.

But, he supposes, this wasn't just a mention of her.

They'd been having the exes talk, him and Tommy. Kind of intense, kind of emotional, but necessary and a little bit cathartic, too. It started when the news came on, Taylor's face filling the screen. Buck groaned.

"Ugh, can we change the channel?"

"What? You don't like news reports about corporate espionage?" Tommy asks.

"No, uh... We used to date." He nods at the screen, grimacing.

"Huh." Tommy squints for a moment, and hits the power button on the TV remote. "Gotta be awkward, seeing your ex on TV?"

"You have no idea." Buck starts talking about his first date with Natalia, then Taylor, and after a while Tommy picks up the thread, talking about the last guy he dated. They bounce back and forth, no particular direction to the conversation, until Buck realises something.

"You haven't mentioned... What about before? Did you ever, you know, date women before you came out?"

Tommy sucks his teeth for a second, then nods. "Yeah. I don't talk about that much—I'm not the proudest of it, but I actually had a pretty serious relationship with a woman while I was still with the 118."

"Really?" Buck asks, voice neutral while Tommy gathers his thoughts.

"Yeah. It was... Good, I thought. Until I met her brother, and thought: damn, he's hot."

Buck throws his head back and laughs. "You did not sleep with her brother!"

Tommy snorts a little. "No! God, no. He was happily married to a woman, had a kid on the way and all. Nah, it was just a moment of: shit, I really can't keep pretending this isn't a fact about me. You know?"

Buck nods. After a pause, he asks the question. "What did you do?"

Tommy sighs. "That's the part I'm not proud of—I didn't really do anything. I kept dating her. She was going through a lot—family stuff, her mom was sick, and I just... Didn't wanna do that to her."

Buck hums, tracing patterns over Tommy's arm while he stared into space, remembering. 

"How did it end?" Buck asks.

"Badly. She knew something was off, always so perceptive. She confronted me, and I just... I couldn't keep it in anymore. I told her. We ended it. She ended it.”

"Damn."

"Yeah. She's fine, though. After the initial hurt,  she rebounded with some hot young probie she met on a call, and now she's married with step-kids. We still send Christmas cards to each other." Tommy laughs. Buck… doesn’t.

"On a call?" Buck asks. "She was a firefighter?"

"Oh! No, not a firefighter. She worked at dispatch, actually."

Buck's entire body convulses, blood turning chilled. "Dispatch?" He asks. 

He runs back over everything Tommy said about her. He remembers a voice, frail and confused, calling him by the wrong name.

"You... You're Abby's Tommy," he realises. 

Tommy blinks in surprise. "How do you...? Oh. Oh.”

Buck takes a breath, long and shaky. Tommy's words reverberate in his head. Rebounded. 

Hot young probie.

Is that all he was to her?

"I… I didn't know I was a rebound," Buck admits, voice small. Tommy reaches for him, but he flinches away. "She... Abby was everything to me. She was the first person I ever let myself imagine a future with. Her leaving... it kind of... broke something in me, Tommy. Something that it took months—actually, years—to find again. And she never even..."

"Evan, I... I had no idea."

Another thought occurs to Buck, then. A darker, worse thought. He almost doesn't want to ask, but he knows he'll drive himself crazy with wondering if he doesn't.

"Did... You said you were with her while you were with the 118?" 

Tommy nods. "I was."

"Did you ever... Did she ever come by the station?"

Tommy squints, like he's trying to remember. "I don't know. I know she met Sal. Gerrard kept asking if she'd come cook for everyone, like a ‘good wife.’" He rolls his eyes. "I don't think she ever did, though."

"So she... She never met Chim, or-or Hen,or Bobby, then? They didn't—"

Tommy shakes his head. "I'm sure they would have told you if they'd known."

Buck swallows. He feels sick. 

Rebound.

The final straw hits a moment later. She told Tommy about him. She's told Tommy about her husband, her step-kids.

She couldn't even tell him what country she was in while they were dating. 

Buck stands abruptly.

"Are you okay?" Tommy asks.

"I need... I need to go."

Buck grabs his keys, puts his feet in his shoes, and walks out the door.

"Evan! Evan, come on! Let's talk about this?"

Buck's halfway to his jeep already, but he turns. "We will. I promise, we'll talk, but I just... I don't think I can talk about this yet. I'll... I'll call you, okay?"

And here he is now, in his jeep, driving without aim through LA. He doesn't know where to go. He doesn't want to be near Tommy right now, though he did nothing wrong, and he doesn't want to be alone.

He drives past Abby's—his—old building, and has to fight a scream which tries to tear itself out of his throat.

Who asks a rebound to move in with them? Had she actually used that word, or was Tommy just inferring?

He knows who he has to talk to. 

He hopes Tommy was wrong. He hopes Abby was genuine. Because if she wasn't, Buck's really not sure what he will do. His relationship with Abby set the bar he compared every other relationship to—how can he trust his instincts, if that was all a lie?

He fights for the memory of when Abby told him about Tommy—what had she said about him?

She didn't talk about him much, he thinks. She hadn't even mentioned the fact that he was a firefighter—Buck would have remembered that.

“He wasn't ready for all of this.” Buck hears the echo of her words, remembers interpreting it to mean her mom, her situation. He remembers worrying that he might not be ready for it, but really wanting to be.

Looking back, he absolutely hadn't been ready. 

Had that been her way of not outing Tommy? Had she been trying to cover up the real reason for their breakup? Or is it Tommy who's telling a twisted version of the story?

There's only one person who can give him an honest account of it all—one person who may not have been there for it all, but who knows the situation better than Buck.

Carla.

With Chris in Texas, though, Buck doesn't know where she's working, or what hours. He just hopes she answers his calls.

[mellowyellow236]

IVE JUST BEEN ON A BINGING SPREE OF YOUR WORK AND I LOVE IT SO SO MUCH??? YOUR WRITING IS SO CHEF'S KISS????

Its possible could i request for the first year (platonic ortho if you'd like to write him ^^) x reader with the kingdom dance scene from tangled the ost always has my heart pumping and i think its just a beautiful scene all around AAAA

Ahhhh thank you so much for requesting! Sorry that this took a while and isn’t very long, I haven’t watched Tangled in at least five years at this point so it was hard to remember the context behind the scene, especially since I couldn’t find an actual copy of the movie. But you are completely right, that soundtrack is absolutely wonderful! So much so that it’s now the tavern music I’m using in my Dnd campaign. Anyway, here you are! :D

How Would The TWST First Years Act With The Reader During The Tangled Kingom Dance Scene?

GN!Reader x first years, all are meant to be read as romantic except for Ortho’s, but can be read as platonic, too. No TW’s, just fluff. All parts under the cut.

Edit: added tags since I forgot before

Ace Trapolla -

Ace wasn’t excited to come down to town for the festival, so to speak. They lit the lanterns every year, but... Seeing you so happy for it did melt his heart if only a little. And seeing you get a chance to have your hair done by those little girls in the plaza was the cream on the cake. Once you had it braided with flowers and ribbons, you really did look beautiful.

He went away to grab you guys something to eat. He was only away for a second, but by the time he returned, he was watching you start a dance in the town square, inviting in various townspeople. Soon enough, most of the plaza was there. He didn’t want to join in, but he was being pushed into it before he had a chance to comprehend what was happening.

Dancing around, it was easy to see why so many had joined you. You were a great dancer, and it was fun to get to be with so many people. Even so, the fact that he wasn’t able to dance with you until the song was annoying for him. Up until he got to dance with you, of course. Anyone with a brain could see the stars in his eyes.

Deuce Spade -

Deuce loved the idea of getting a chance to take you to a festival. It would be your first one, and of course, he was very excited. So much so that he got a group of girls from the town to braid your hair. Try as he might, he couldn’t do it himself, although he did get you the ribbons and flowers to put in them.

When he went to go grab another thing of flowers for you, this time just for you to hold, he didn’t think twice when he saw you dancing. He dove right in, joining you and the other townspeople in dance, laughing. By the time he got to dance with you, he only had a single flower left, having given most of them away. Although, when he put that one behind your ear, it was clear he had saved the largest of the bunch for you.

Jack Howl -

Jack was too excited, but it wasn’t as though he didn’t want to go. Yes, it was exciting to go to a festival, but he’d already been to many of them. However, seeing how happy you were to go, he decided it was his mission to make sure you got the best experience possible.

However, he still had the ears of a wolf, and all of the loud noises and smells soon overwhelmed him. You two had to take coverage in a small library. He urged you to go back to enjoying the festival, he didn’t want you to stay behind for him, but when you didn’t, he did the next best thing and started teaching you about it. You were in a library, after all, and he was able to read and teach now that it was quieter. And in the end, isn’t wanting to spend time with your loved ones what the festival was all about?

Epel Felmeir -

Epel had been hoping you’d go with him to the festival since he heard about it, and so having you express an interest in it was something that made his day. He loved being able to go to all kinds of festivals back home, and he was sure he’d enjoy having you there for one with him, as well.

His favorite part? Getting to hide behind the wall of a bakery, eating cupcakes as Vil walks around outside of it searching for you two. Did you giggle so loudly you were caught? Yes. But was it worth it as he got to see you laughing, icing on your nose as you two ran through the streets, away from the pastry tyrant? It was. It was completely worth it.

Ortho Shroud -

Ortho was so happy when you invited him out! You two were going to be able to spend time together, and he got to have his first adventure into a festival while he was with you. He even got to make some friends with a few kids, and they taught him how to braid your hair!

And then you got to do chalk drawings together! You made a sun, and he made a drawing of him, Idia, and you. You’re a part of his family, too, and he’s so happy to be able to share a happy memory with you.

Sebek Zigvolt -

Sebek wasn’t excited at first. It was just a boring, human festival, nothing that could compare to the wonders of Fae traditions. But then, he saw you dressing up your hair and asking for help with it, and he couldn’t help but soften up to the idea just a little bit. Even humans could have a good festival or two, especially if those braided flowers are only the first part.

Out of all the first years, Sebek is the least excited to dance, yet also the best at it. Being Malleus’s personal guard, he took dance lessons, in order to blend in to any ballroom and guard Malleus even when he couldn’t be by his side. However, it was always just another part of his training, where he couldn’t even fight… Until you. Now, he’s dancing in the town square with you, hand in yours and one on your waist, mentally wondering how he got so lucky to end up here, with a human so wonderful they can make what he thought of as a boring activity into something beautiful and fun.

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

blorbos are how we are coping with current events

so uh. here’s a few nice lighthearted gravity falls headcanons for you all (and yes there is a lot of ford centric ones here. no negativity about him on this post, please. preferably not about anyone else featured here either)

-both stan twins are trans. shermie was the first one they told about this, and he’s been immensely supportive of them. he started referring to them as ‘boys’ whenever he could, especially when filbrick was around (‘you boys ready?’ and stuff like that). even though the twins haven’t seen him in a while, and his relationship with ford is a little strained, they both still feel safe around him

-shermie’s daughter, the mother of the mystery twins, is transmascfem. they’ve always been much closer to her than to their father. it was her idea to get a cat, and she let the niblings pick it out. they collectively named it ‘smoky’

-both mystery twins are trans as well. as soon as he knew, stan made damn sure they were aware of his support for them. mabel told ford she was trans before dipper did, and he made sure they both knew he would support them as well

-the stan twins get a ship cat with polydactyl and name him icarus. he was supposed to work as pest control, but ford babied him too much so now he’s just there for emotional support

-upon figuring out how cellphones work, ford took an immense liking to the camera function. he frequently sends stan and the niblings pictures of anomalies, animals, or just cool stuff he finds

-stan keeps his cool when being insulted, but absolutely cannot stand it when the same happens to his family. type of guy to go ‘ok’ when you tell him he sucks, and then turn around and threaten to murder you when you say the same to ford or the niblings

-gideon is an exception. gideon crossed the line with mabel and now stan can’t help but get irrationally angry every time he sees or hears him

-ford isn’t as good at math as people tend to thinks he is, and he is. so anxious about someone finding that out

-ford has maladaptive daydreaming disorder, and so does mabel

-ford initially bought the painting in the attic of a ship in a storm because it reminded him of stan

-melody and soos got a tabby cat and named it metronome. soos chose the name because it was similar in theme to ‘melody’ and cause he thought it sounded cool. melody calls the cat ‘bloop’ and at this point it probably thinks that’s its actual name

-mabel uses exclusively edible glitter due to all the pets in her life (waddles, smoky, icarus, metronome)

-mabel helps pacifica realize that she’s transmascfemneu. this makes pacifica think about things a lot, and eventually she ends up in a qpr with mabel (featuring candy and grenda as wingmen)

-wendy is bigender and enby

-ford nearly cried the first time stan made pancakes after the portal

-it’s become a running bit to call ford anything but his name and at this point he’s just given up on correcting people and chosen to embrace it

-robbie’s first name is actually robin. his friends started calling him robbie when he came out as trans and the name just stuck. he’s still very attached to ‘robin’ though and has no problem being called that as well

-stan repaired his old winter jacket, though he doesn’t wear it any more. ford sometimes does

-because stan runs hot and ford runs very cold, ford has a tendency to come up to stan and hug him under his coat. stan is fine with this, despite his grumblings about ford just doing it to steal some warmth

-ford experiences cuteness aggression to the max, while stan really doesn’t at all. icarus has experienced both threats of being eaten/crushed and ford screaming into his fluff

-icarus has separation anxiety with ford

-stan doodles on ford a lot. the only rule is nothing on his face and do NOT touch the neck tattoo (destroyed as it may be from weirdmaggedon). yes, stanley, the all-star one. get that smug smile off your face- stop laughing-!

-ford’s sleep schedule has significantly improved since getting icarus. this is mostly because he sometimes falls asleep while waiting for icarus to move off his lap (can’t move til the cat does, y’know how it is)

-stan loves loves LOVES sunny cloudy days. they remind him of running across the beach with his brother, and watching the niblings throw water balloons at each other, and hearing his twin laugh as he tells jokes on the stan o’ war ii

-stan had ford custom engrave his lighter. he thinks it looks cool as shit

-ford has made several smoke bombs for stan. he has no clue what he keeps using them for, but he likes building things, so he doesn’t mind

-mabel has set up three music playlists for the stans. one only for ford, one only for stan, and one that’s visible to both where they can both add music

-mabel introduced ford to breakcore and noisecore. she was very surprised that he liked the two genres

-ford is agender and anattractional

-stan’s favorite smells are cinnamon, bergamot, and saltwater

-stan made sure to always have supplies to make brownies and hot chocolate on the ship in case of them need some mood lifting

-ford has a plaid weighted blanket. the cat laying on top of him every night also helps

-ford made sure stan got a good mattress that would work with his back before they set sail. stan argued with him the entire time, but he has been waking up in less pain since then

-ford always ends up hogging the blankets in any bed. more cover = better in his unconscious mind. stan doesn’t really mind too much, but he would like to keep at least one blanket some time

-ford makes a startlingly good seagull impression

[limitlesses]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐍, Suguru for his ability to see what was unseen by all others while living in the sticks, harboring their little secret spoken between the two of them now. Likewise; Satoru had been othered for his gifts, idolized, dehumanized, with a sprinkling of assassination attempts throughout his childhood. Why not throw being gay into the mix? Fuck it. So while Satoru didn't expect their experiences to align perfectly, what mattered was the gist of it all; they weren't accepted in normal society.

Good thing Satoru never really had a shot at living normally within society anyways, so it wasn't truly a loss in his eyes. But he wondered how Suguru felt, wondered if it bothered him -- all that non-acceptance, the isolation.

Satoru really didn't think much of snatching one of Suguru's shirts -- he'd come back from a mission later in the night and b-line over to Suguru's to hang out before crashing, accidentally, and... well, he was lazy, he didn't want to have to go over to his own dorm room to change out of his uniform.

So he'd just -- ...yeah, and Suguru hadn't seemed to mind, really! Satoru was only borrowing a shirt or two because he wasn't about to lounge around till two in the morning in a fucking button up and uniform jacket right after a mission. It was clearly Suguru's because it was bigger on him ---- not that Suguru was massive in comparison, but a combination of Suguru being a bit more broad and the other also enjoying looser sizes on himself meant that Satoru was pleasantly drowned by the material, a slight sag of its larger neckline toward one shoulder showcasing a stretch of collarbone whilst he kept himself sprawled.

Suguru's crisis went unnoticed, to Satoru he was always the cool guy. Really, Satoru was the one trying to not gawk at him with his wet hair, he wanted to reach out and run his fingers through it, to push it back and slide his hand to cup the nape of Suguru's neck and ---- ahem, anyway! Suguru being freshly showered and wet was something he unfortunately had to deal with on the regular, the guy was big about cleaning off after spars and training and just ---- Satoru still remembered the first time he rounded the corner for the showers and saw Suguru in there, towel around his waist and another smaller one mussing through his wet, downed hair, glistening ---- he nearly dropped his shit and ran the other way because he forgot how to breathe.

Onigiri! Yes, okay, of course.

❝ Yeah, yeah, don't worry, I brought you shit, too -- I'm not a psychopath, jeez. ❞ Satoru gave himself a minute to just bask in being able to lay down -- then he pushed himself upright with arms propped behind himself, a partial recline while tucking his legs to fold inward on the bed.

❝ Got your onigiri, so you can relax. I saw these strawberry 'crunch' cookies I wanted to try, too -- I dunno, I have a craving, ❞ Satoru spoke while he grabbed the bag and started rummaging through it, though a bag of rice chips and two candy bars he knew Suguru liked fell out when he threw the bag onto the bed. He handed Suguru several servings of onigiri he dug out, his go-to's memorized by now.

❝ -- more peach gummies 'cause they were actually pretty good last time. Oh and I bought... like, all the fucking dango they had, too -- oh! ❞ Satoru pulled out a sizeable bag within the plastic 7-Eleven bag. ❝ They had this new 'sweets sampler' bag, it has uhhhhh... let's see, some different flavors of manju, dorayaki, mochi, and so on. ❞

He grinned, then, at Suguru's tease -- tipping his chin up, sunglasses off and placed on the bedside table allowing him to level Suguru with a bright and sharp stare. He typically took them off whenever they intended on playing a lot of games or watching a bunch of TV, avoiding glare from the screen.

❝ Yeah right, boot that shit up and you'll see, ❞ he huffed, leaning to reach and grab the TV remote from Suguru's side table, already powering it on and switching the input while he tasked Suguru with turning the console on, putting the game of his choice in, and handing the controllers out.

But before they got too into it ---- regardless of momentum, Satoru figured it was only fair he mention things preemptively before the topic got away from him; fondness was mutual, and Satoru didn't hide it from his eyes either as Suguru settled next to him once more, looking at him with the potent sentiment whether or not the other guy noticed or caught a glimpse of those azure blues looking at him like he was the world.

Satoru spoke quieter, now, a tone shift he hoped wasn't too abrupt or jarring for Suguru -- but he felt comfortable and safe here, so surely that'd carry through in his words and give Suguru the same feeling.

❝ Hey, uh... thanks, by the way -- for earlier today, and for this too. Yeah, I wanna keep my mind off of the whole clan thing, all that, but I -- ... well, you know. It felt good to actually... say it. And I want you to know that you can, uh, tell me stuff, too -- yeah? ❞

Ah, he was getting nervous again, all awkward, reaching to scratch at the back of his head while flicking his eyes away and toward the TV. ❝ Hey, at least do it to stop me from talking your ear off otherwise, hah. ❞

Satoru chuckled at himself, then immediately wanted to facepalm (yet withheld to avoid making Suguru get all worried about him again) because holy shit he was nervous-rambling again in the midst of telling Suguru he could talk, too. Fuck. True idiot behavior, he wasn't beating those allegations.

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐃 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒, collecting at his feet as Suguru pulled the elastic from his hair and looped it around his wrist, effectively setting his hair free from its bun. Black locks draped around his face before his hands were back in it, massaging at his scalp as he let the frigid temperature startle him awake.  

He needed a moment to collect himself… to figure out what he was feeling, and why.  And, well —-- what those feelings even meant.

Up until a few hours ago, he hadn’t let his mind linger on much of anything other than missions, and absorbing as much as he could about his future life as a jujutsu sorcerer.  Unlike Satoru, Suguru hadn’t grown up with the knowledge that he was special —-- in fact, he had very much thought the opposite; THAT HE WAS THE BLACK SHEEP OF HIS SMALL VILLAGE, the weird boy that saw things that weren’t there.  And while Suguru had dabbled in relationships with others throughout his time spent pretending to be a lesser version of himself, who he was here, at Jujustu Tech, was different.  It was real.

Suguru let the cold water numb his senses as his violet eyes fixated on the blue tiles surrounding him, only to blur out as he lost himself in thought. Satoru was his best friend, here —-- someone that had seen him, truly seen him, and didn’t consider him lesser than.  Didn’t see Suguru for what he lacked… he practically saw him as an equal.  Which… was a strange concept, in and of itself —-- standing beside the young Gojo prodigy and hearing himself, hearing them, together, referred to as the strongest.

He hadn’t let himself consider anything more… Suguru felt as though he was already pushing his luck, attempting to stand beside a man possessing the Six Eyes ( which, truth be told, he was still trying to wrap his head around ) —---  but now?

A blush spread across his face as he closed his eyes, and pressed his forehead into the wall in front of him. Thoughts of Satoru filled his mind —--- the mindless touches, the way he loved to drape himself over Suguru’s form, seeking him out whenever they were in class, or training… the way he felt comfortable around him, at ease… like he could be himself; laughing at stupid jokes, making stupid jokes —--- talking about the curses he had seen, or consumed, in the same breath as the last level he had beaten of their latest video game fixation.  With Satoru… this life he was living was normalized.  

With Satoru, Suguru felt… like he had discovered what it meant to find a sense of home in another person.  A breathless chuckle filled the air as Suguru realized that Satoru wasn’t the only one harboring feelings —---- no, there was no hiding the fact that Suguru liked him just as much.  Wanted to be near him, just as badly.

When Suguru returned to his dorm, he had changed into comfortable clothes —-- a loose-fitting black t-shirt and grey sweatpants were his usual go-to’s when it came to after-hours at Jujutsu Tech. His hair was down, still wet from his shower though no longer dripping —-- Suguru scrunched a towel into the left-side of his hair to help absorb some of the moisture still lingering.  

It was then that Satoru practically kicked down his door, a plastic bag filled to the brim with snacks in tow.

Wait… was that his shirt that Satoru was wearing?

Suguru’s mind went blank as he stared, his mouth hanging open as he made the realization.  Satoru looked… he looked so good like this, in his clothes. Oh no. 

He wanted to kiss him, then —--- the thought of bunching up the fabric of his own shirt swallowing up Satoru’s form in his hands, gripping at his back, before walking him back towards the wall, and pressing him against it, taking up waaaay too much space in his head now.

Suguru had to visibly whip his head back and forth to shake the thought from his mind.  Cold shower be damned… he was feeling just as flushed, just as warm, again —---- like he hadn’t just blasted himself with freezing water.

He stood still, breathless, as he watched Satoru flop onto his bed.  A bed that he had flopped onto countless times before… but now, it was all different.  Fuck.

❝ Y-Yeah—--... whatever you want, Satoru, ❞  he replied, still a bit at a loss for words as he finally forced one foot in front of the other, making a slow and steady approach to the space Satoru now occupied in his room.  Suguru sat at the edge of his bed, near the other boy, and attempted to put that cool guy mask back on.  Unaffected… calm and composed.

❝ What snacks did you bring? Tell me there’s some onigiri in here and not just all sweets… unless you need a sugar-high going in order to beat me. ❞  At that, he laughed; a sweet smile plastered across his face, unknowingly revealing so much more than a mere fondness for competition.

[welcometogrouchland]

I think the disconnect between canon Belos and (a certain genre of) fanon Belos is that in canon he is pathetic (in the dramatic sense) not sympathetic.

[heloflor]

Something random I find interesting about Bowser is how his “modern” personality was actually there very early on, but it took forever for it to become a thing in the games.

(Tl;Dr is basically the last paragraph)

Like, when the first Super Mario Bros came out, Bowser was shown as a conqueror, destroying the Mushroom Kingdom and turning its inhabitant into blocks just because he could, only kidnapping Peach because she had magic that could counter his. All in all, he was nothing more than a monster.

But then one year later came the 1986 anime movie “The Great Mission to Rescue Princess Peach”, and for this movie, Bowser was completely revamped. Suddenly he became a hopeless romantic who kidnaps Peach to marry her, tries to comfort her at two instances which shows some level of being genuine in his feelings, and is a bit of a dumbass at times. It’s actually pretty funny to see the contrast between Bowser in this movie having done terrible actions (which we see through Mario and Luigi’s quest) but then when the focus is on him, he’s kind of adorable actually. Also there’s that post credit scene with him working where the brothers used to early on that shows him as nice.

And the funny thing is, that new side of Bowser that this anime brought actually stuck around…in everything except the games. In the following games (Mario Bros 2 Lost Levels, 3 and Mario World), Bowser is still the same monster who’s destroying things and kidnapping Peach for the heck of it. But outside of the games, we see that softer/goofier side of him shine. Or at the very least, in instances where he’s still pretty horrible/doesn't show that softer side, his motivation remains to marry Peach instead of going back to him wanting power first and foremost. And even then his defeats have some comedy to it.

It’s especially visible with Mario World and how, while the game doesn’t expand on him, there’s an interactive anime where he mentions wanting to marry Peach, and the Manga Super Mario Kun version of this game shows him to be a lot like in the 1986 movie, at least in his first appearance (I only found the first few chapters of this comic translated in english so I don’t know how he acts past that scene where he gives Peach an oversized ring; wouldn’t recommend those mangas btw, unless you like absurd humor with a plot that goes nowhere and wastes your time on stupid stuff). Same for the “Super Mario Adventures” comic where’s he’s yet again both a softie and a moron.

And outside of Mario World, there’s also a commercial for the very first Super Mario Bros with Bowser giving Mario flowers with no evil intention to it, or those three very badly made retelling of stories with Mario characters, two of which have Bowser wanting to marry Peach (for those wondering how the hell did I know about this compilation, I found a reaction to the 86 anime and the channel also had a reaction to those, so it was through sheer luck ¯\_(ツ)_/¯).

So overall, Bowser being more comedic and endearing through being an idiot + having romantic feelings had been a thing since pretty much the beginning, Nintendo just took a while to put it into the games. And even then, from my understanding, the first show of Bowser’s softer side was in the RPGs, with Super Mario RPG having him as part of the team and Paper Mario 64 apparently being the first time his crush on Peach was put into a game (for context I know very little of both of these games so I don’t know exactly how they portray Bowser, I just know RPG has a crying sprite + he’s a team member and Paper has him crushing on Peach). So it basically took a good decade for it to become his game personality.

(Note that him becoming a playable character as early as the first Mario Kart and remaining playable in most sport games could also be a sign of Nintendo wanting him to be seen as less threatening, but those games don’t exactly have a story to truly showcase it so I wouldn’t exactly take them into account)

As for the mainline games, we had to wait even longer to see that side of him, up until Super Mario Sunshine in the early 2000s. And funnily enough, Nintendo has ever since been much more open about taking Bowser a lot less seriously in mainline games (Mario Galaxy ends with the group waking up at Peach’s castle and Bowser seems rather chill in that moment, New Bros Wii and U have funny cutscenes at the end, same for 3D Land, New Bros 2, his losing animation on his car + him in the credits in 3D World, and Mario Odyssey also ends on a comedic note for him).

And since I’m talking Sunshine which showcases his softer side through his kid, that’s also a good show of how long it took for him to be like that in the games. Bowser had been a father since Super Mario Bros 3 with the introduction of the Koopalings, yet neither this game nor Mario World show the kids interacting with their dad. We had to wait until New Bros Wii for that to happen in a mainline game (the ending cutscene). And while I wasn’t born back in the 90s so I can’t fully back up this claim, from what I’ve seen Bowser in general mainly interacted with the Koopalings outside of the games, like with the Adventures comic (tho even then it’s minimal) and the US cartoons which focus on him as a dad.

So yeah, all-in-all, I find it interesting how Nintendo had clearly always seen Bowser as more of a comedic character, mostly through being a hopeless romantic and a dumbass with a soft edge despite his horrible actions, but for the longest time they put this wish to the side. It wasn’t until the RPGs that this side of Bowser came out, and it took even longer for it to become a thing in the mainline games. And while of course this makes sense given Nintendo is known for not having stories in Mario games, meaning there’s no point in making Bowser anything more than the bad guy, it’s still funny how, the second they gave Bowser that comedic edge in one mainline game, it was the push they needed to run with it and never look back. As a result, nowadays, even in the instances where Bowser is at his most dangerous/intimidating like Galaxy, Bowser’s Fury or the 2023 Movie, there’s always still at least one moment where he’s not taken that seriously.

(Last second addition : I guess it is worth pointing out how Bowser being less threatening started with his romantic feelings, with his role as a father not being that important; but nowadays it's sort of the opposite with him being a parent first and foremost while his feelings for Peach, though still very much core to his character, take a bit of a backseat at times, or at least him having Junior and parenting him is brought up more often than his desire to be with Peach)

[riaki]

i literally cant stop thinkin’ about highschoolbully!gojo who used to be your ride or die ‘til he started getting attention from those popular jock type guys who are always assholes to everyone. and him being.. well, him means he preens under attention no matter who it’s from, so naturally he started to gravitate towards that group and their little troop of cheerleading fangirls. and then he started distancing from you and without either of you really realizing it, you’ve slipped between the other’s fingers. but the way he acts towards you makes you think he let you fall without moving a muscle to slow you down.

soon enough, a year swings by and by the end of it he’s gone from your life, save as just another face in the gaggle of boys who make crude jokes and laugh at smart kids and pop milk cartoons during lunch just for the hell of it. but you’re minding your own business, ‘cause you’re mature enough to realize that people come and go, no matter how close you might’ve been and you think it’s unfortunate that so many memories could be thrown aside in a blink of an eye, but it makes a lot of sense when you walk past satoru and his friends bullying some random kid. you don’t know him, but you’ve heard enough to realize it’s his girlfriend satoru’s flirting with while his ‘gang’ kick at the kid. and it’s sickening, but you don’t say anything when you walk by.

and when you don’t ever see the kid afterward and catch the dark eyebags under his girlfriend’s eyes, you come to the cruel realization that satoru isn’t the boy who’d bandage the scrape on your knee you got from tripping in the playground or buy you a soda because he’s noticed your sweat when you were walking home and you don’t have any money left on you.

it’s a glass half empty, half full type of situation. on the one hand, you don’t have him anymore. on the other hand, you don’t have him anymore. that is, you lost your best friend, but you’ve also lost someone who has the potential to absolutely ruin your life. and you don’t know whether to be glad or not, so you just mind your own business even if it hurts a little when he ignores you, stops tossing paper at your head in class (unless it’s to embarrass you) and stops walking you to and from school.

but the cherry on top of the shit cake is that he doesn't get it. so when he approaches you in the library one day after satiating the need to tear pages from books and make them into paper airplanes to throw at people, he doesn't seem to understand why you try to ignore him, or put off his attempts to hold a convo. but the worst part is that he's just sleazy and clueless about it. it's like he took an eraser and wiped every single year of your friendship off the chalkboard with one fell swipe, and you wish he'd done that too to the less-than-appropriate messages he and his friends had written towards one of your classmates.

he doesn't understand why you're hesitant to talk, and that's what makes it the worst. he always thinks he's in the right, and he keeps setting you off and it sucks that he knows exactly what sets you off. "i'm an asshole? what're you talking about? really, you're in over your head. you never change." he laughs, and you ignore him, and he gets bored, and he's about to leave when he spots your wallet open next to your book, on the table. there's a polaroid peeking out, and he recognizes the tufts of white hair to be him. but there's a weird feeling in his chest, and he thinks he gets it from you, so he leaves because he thinks you're weird.

and it goes on; you practically become a nobody in satoru's eyes, because of that weird, weird feeling you give him. it's unfamiliar and he's never gotten it before and he doesn't like it. but it's unavoidable when your professor pairs you two for the end-of-term project. and of course, you're ready to do all the work, because that's how it always was between you when you were kids. but sometimes he'd surprise you by helping, and he'd show you that he was actually intelligent just to earn your praise because he liked it. but he ignored you, and you did everything, and it would've been okay if not for his friends egging him on to present your entire project when the day came and leave you with no content for a grade.

that's the first time it hits him: does he really want to do that? but it's not like it'll be the first time; you've always taken the hits for him, because you're naturally smart and you'll pick yourself back up in no time, and you get why he does it, so it'll be okay. so he agrees, and he enjoys the time he gets to spend with you through it, but the nagging weird feeling that blooms in his chest like a pesky weed only grows stronger. that's all his feelings ever seem to do around you.

but before you know it, presentation day swings around. you had coffee this morning (on his card), and you're ready enough to shoot him a small smile that sends his heart a-flutter. so you go up, feeling up to the task and ready until— he starts talking, and talking, and talking, and people don't think that he's taking your words out of your mouth because he's intelligent when he wants to make you praise him and you don't get the chance to get a word in and you notice the guys are laughing and hitting each other's shoulders to themselves in the upper rows and before you know it it's over. people are clapping but moreso they're looking at you and they're whispering— but it's terribly loud and they don't bother to hide it. they call you things that shouldn't bother you but they do anyway, because it's satoru's fault, and you're such a fool for thinking you could have it your way again.

so you leave class early, excusing yourself and ignoring the way your professor gives you a distasteful look and scribbles something next to your name. you're out the door in a second, neglecting your bags and satoru's a little lost because— didn't he just do good? people were clapping, and laughing with him and not at him, but it's attention either way so he doesn't mind. so why do you? why did you look at him like he stabbed you in the back? and his friends are calling his name, and he wishes he could chase after you and do something but he doesn't.

and it's a little sickening what they do next; one of their girls grabbed your bags and tossed it to them, and they've started rifling through it as if they own it, tearing up your shit and dumping everything onto the ground and he's kind of just... glued to the chair by his feelings. his heart feels like it's been patched together and the weird fuzzy feeling he had in his chest that's been cultivating has extinguished to be replaced with something he realizes he's only ever felt when it comes to you— guilt.

he's so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't realize his friend is silently offering him something— nudging his side to get his attention. he takes it without really realizing he moved his hand, and his silent friend with the gauges in his ears and the dark hair gets up and leaves without another word. when satoru looks down, he realizes he's been given your wallet. "the reward for betraying your baby," they call it. like all you're worth is the money in your account.

he's a little curious. that's how he's always been; asking you questions, rummaging through your stuff, laughing sheepishly and shaking it off when you caught him red-handed. so he opens it up, ignoring your sad little cards and the funny look on your license. he's looking for something, subconsciously; but he doesn't find it. there's no white tuft of hair to suggest his presence in your life; just empty black leather. nothing else.

and he doesn't see you after. or the following day. or the following weeks; weeks that turn into months that turn into the end of school and he's graduating but you're not by his side. and neither are his so called 'friends'; the only thing he has to their name is your own ruined friendship. it's a shame; he feels alone. very alone. no fuzzy weird feeling, not even that thing people call guilt. no attention to chase, and connections are ever harder to make. it shouldn'tve mattered that much, right? it was just a presentation. why wouldn't you just come back to him like you always did? were you not still friends...?

but the blood is still on his hands, and he doesn't manage to ever wash it off. guilt has a way of festering; of weighing on the heart 'till there's nothing left to feel or think but unfortunate circumstance and what could've been done differently. it just sucks that he never tried hard enough to keep you from slipping between his grasp. and now, he doesn't even have a polaroid to your friendship's name.

pt.2

[coconutdays]

seat taker

s. you have a crush on the smartest and sexiest guy in your lit class who happens to ride a motorcycle with spooky season around the corner. what ever might happen?

w.c. 10.6k

w. fem! reader, biker!geto! x reader , fluff!, smut! (its more so toward the end so u can read until it cuts off to that lol if u want)

a/n: based on this idea I posted about biker!geto from uni lol, I didn't really proofread so ill get to that sometime later after I shower and eat lol just wanted to get this out

"go sit next to him then."

you take a nervous gulp from your water bottle as you walk to your lit class. the effort was a bit clumsy considering you were using one hand to open and close it while the other held your phone, your friend on the other line.

"never, would I ever have the balls to do that. i may be confident but I am not as delusional as the caveman gym bro that took your seat so he could sit next to me in anthropology."

she laughs on the other end, a hysterical giggle at your backtalk.

"well then he's just gonna keep thinking you're creepy cause you stare."

you let out a haughty scoff, "as if I acknowledge his existence." a finger of yours goes up in the air, as if she could see you being a smartass about your discretion, "I never look at him. I only get in a glance or two when he asks the professor a question or when he raises his hand to answer a question."

"you're insane."

"unfixable." you sigh prettily and proudly before giving a more serious response to her first suggestion, "and it would be really awkward if I sat next to him either way. the class is packed and everyone has their assigned unassigned seats, the white haired guy that always sits next to him would probably push me off his seat if he ever saw me there."

"that is true. some girl did that to me in stats and I was like ??? have you not been sitting somewhere else this entire semester? pissed me off that I had to sit somewhere else and take someone's seat."

you're about five seconds away from your lecture hall door when you add to her complaint.

"right. and then that person looks at you funny cause you took their seat and then argh–its just a fucking domino effect." you turn around and take a step into the class, the sight before you bringing emphasis to the last words that you meant to finish off with, "fuck seat takers..."

"huh. what was that last part?"

your classroom is full. every one of the 200 seats are seemingly just taken. it's a sight you're not used to when you walk into class. normally, when you decide to go in, about half of the class is there, and you were starting to curse the fact that you gave yourself the luxury to finish the last of your reading for next week ahead of time. those ten minutes didn't seem like they'd make a difference, they sure do now...

with white haired guy sitting in YOUR seat.

its across the lecture hall from where he normally sits, next to Geto, who just so conveniently has an empty seat next to him, the only empty seat.

poker face, poker face, poker face.

it's all you repeat to yourself as you walk up the carpet steps to the row where Geto is sitting and try to continue the conversation with your friend.

there's no white noise, some people are typing away at their computers and others are chatting with the person next to them or near them, so it gives you room to explain yourself a little without being heard.

"everybody's already in class, and white haired guy is in my seat dude, and guess which seat isn't fucking taken." there's an edge to your voice, however it lays undetectable with your calm face.

"WAITTTTTTTT. AHAHA–"

you can feel your body heating up in nerves when you start walking between Geto's row, to the seat next to him.

"stop f/n. I am on the verge of committing a serious crime. I'm going to actually end up in handcuffs by the end of today. the–"

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA." She keeps laughing at you as you force yourself to not care that you're pulling out and sinking into the chair next to Geto. If he acknowledged you, you wouldn't have known, his mere presence something you deleted from your mind in order to process the current events before you right now.

a high pitched and drawn out HA is the last of her laughs you hear before she speaks again, "I basically manifested this for you. you should be thanking me."

"fuck your manifesting. I'm not excited for this." you don't care to filter your voice into a whisper, it stays at its normal tone even though you're next to Geto because he didn't even know what the conversation was about anyway.

you balance your phone between your shoulder and cheek while you begin to take out your iPad and journal for class.

"ask him for a ride on his motorcycle after heh." she pokes at you and you feel like you can hear her poking out her tongue in malevolence.

even though you're slightly grumpy at your predicament, you manage to make a comment accompanied by a sigh, "with the way midterms are looking, id need a different kind of ride."

"you can ask him for that too~"

"shut up, you menace."

"hehe," she strikes evilly, "well, I'll leave you to your class with your boyfriend."

"no, stop, the class doesn't even–"

"bye!"

and she hung up on you, leaving you to flip mindlessly through your notebook while you try to ignore the presence of the hot hot hot piece of sexiness next to you.

suguru geto has been at the forefront of your mind for weeks now. you had always slightly admired him from afar, considering your actual seat in the lecture hall was across the room from him. he was undeniably attractive, with his long black always tied up in a bun and clean outfits. and his intelligence, he was always one to garner thoughtful debates in class in response to the professors teachings. his calmness towards everything was enough to make you swoon at the thought go him being that patient with you too.

and his stupid motorcycle, the thing that made it all click for you.

you had been walking to the library after class to meet with your classmate to work on an anthropology presentation when you caught a glimpse–stare–of him getting onto a motorcycle and pulling a helmet over his head before he quickly rode off to wherever he was going. for some reason, it really got your gears grinding and wishing you could just jump this man and do some truly desperate things.

he was all you thought about after. none of the other cute guys in your classes could hold a candle to the being that is suguru geto, renouncing you into a pining mess that looked forward to every lit class–even though you pretended you didn't care for him.

god, what even was the point in all of this if you weren't ever going to make a move? if he just SPOKE to you first maybe you could get some rizz in–

"you have pretty handwriting."

"I–what?"

you perk up like a deer in headlights at the sudden voice of Geto, wondering if you're the one he's speaking to.

and he is, he's spinning a pen between his fingers while he looks at you, slightly gesturing towards the journal in your hands, your cursive covering the pages of it.

"oh!" you're still caught off guard, doe eyes in the face of his sudden and scary, to you, comment, "thank you. can't even read it sometimes though, it's like trying to understand another language when I have to study what I write after."

he smiles slightly at your comment, a whisp of his dark hair swaying near his right eye, "I think it'd be cool to try and translate."

you resist the urge to curl into a ball and wish he would just look away from you, but you persevere, holding out your journal to him.

"be my guest." you say without hesitance

he sets his pen aside when he grabs it, immediately flipping through the pages and starting to skim through your notes, his eyes moving side to side as he does. you get a good view of him while he goes about trying to decipher your writings. he's wearing a black shirt today, it's not exactly tight, but not loose either. it gives you the perfect view of his arms bulging a bit, his biceps' size is an eye sore for you.

he's wearing these black stud earrings too, only visible because of the bun that he keeps his long hair. you wish you could see how long his hair actually was sometimes, he had never worn it down to class.

"looks like I'm more versed in your cursive than you are." he glances at you, a faint smile on his lips

your eyebrows raise a little and your eyes widen, "what? you can read it?"

he closes the journal and slides it to your spot on the very long lecture table. geto then leans over to your side a bit, close to your ear, and starts to point across the room to his white haired friend.

"see that idiot with the pitch black glasses?"

the question sends chills down your spine, the proximity making your heart race.

"y-yeah."

"silver spoon baby. learned cursive when he was four and it's basically incomprehensible unless you've been sharing notes with him since high school."

a laugh flows out of your lips, etching a smile on your face. your shoulder slightly bumps into his chest from it before you turn your head to directly face his.

"and I'm taking it that you're well versed in his cursive then too?"

he looks at you with a slight dreaminess in his eyes, his height still domineering over you even if you were both seated next to each other.

"have to be, would have failed lots of class projects if I didn't"

you take the opportunity to poke about the whereabouts of his friend in your seat now that he's been mentioned.

"and why's he sitting over there then?" you blink up at him for a response

at this, geto sinks back to his original position on his chair, face a million miles away from yours now as he goes back to fiddling with his pen.

"he's...trying to flirt with the girl he's talking to right now." he shakes his head a little, although there isn't much of a disappointed look in his face, it's more entertained. he was probably used to his friend's antics by now.

"ah. at least it looks like she's into it." you dispense the weight of your head onto the palm of your hand as you look at his friend with him, "could not have been me."

"what?"

you don't turn to look at him as you respond, "this Andrew Tate gym bro took my friend's seat to sit next to me in my anthropology class the other day. tried speaking to me like those guys who swear all you need is a computer to become a millionaire. worst ninety minutes of my life."

you hear a puff of a laugh from geto

"I can guarantee you Gojo has better skills than that. he's probably talking about his Halloween party for this weekend."

you flip your head to look at him suddenly, "he's that guy?"

every big party that everyone talked about on campus was always held by Gojo. they had numerous amounts of beers and liquor bottles. always the best music, the best hookup stories, the best snacks, everything. you hadn't put a face to the name until now, although it should've clicked when you found out Geto's name. his was always being paired with Gojo, as some would put it, two pretty best friends.

geto could see the gears turning in your head and his eyes creased a little at your realization in a smile, "yea, that's the guy."

you're a bit taken aback by his confirmation and turn to take another look at gojo before looking back at geto.

amused, geto speaks again, "by all means, go for it, he's–"

you quickly shake your head and stretch out both your hands to frantically do the same, "no, god, no. i'm not into him. it's just I didn't know that was him. I always hear good things about his parties."

geto nods, "he has an affinity for making sure everyone has a good time. you ever been to one?"

you shake your head, "never, haven't had the chance to or been invited."

"you should go to the Halloween one." geto suggests, gesturing his pen in your direction before going back to spinning it around his fingers, "you know where it is?"

you shake your head again, now completely facing his direction, the attention you were giving to his friend gone and now placed on him.

geto gestures towards your journal and reaches for it, "may I?"

you nod, curious at what he was going to do.

he flips the journal and opens the very last page, guaranteed to be blank and begins writing something on it.

when he pushes it back to your side of the table, you can see what he's written now, an address.

"that's where the frat house is."

you wiggle your eyebrows a little at him, "you in the frat too?"

geto laughs fully this time and shakes his head, "no. I have my own apartment. that's just gojo's thing."

you acknowledge him and look over the address written on your journal, "I'll think about it. have to wear my costume somewhere right?"

"what is it?" he tilts his head curiously, genuine interest in what you would choose to dress up as.

you try to bite back the smile at the knowledge you have of your costume and choose to leave it up in the air for him, tapping your journal on his shoulder.

"now that is something for you to find out if you see me at the party."

just how it's entailed in mean girls, you dress up slutty for gojo's halloween party. you wore a playboy bunny costume, close to one of the sluttier things you can wear, but it's rare recently for girls to wear as opposed to the trendy fairy and angel costumes lately.

although it isn't exactly halloween yet, its the first out of the two parties gojo was holding in honor of the holiday. next weekend there would be another one on the actual day, but you didn't know if you'd go that one yet, you were going to see what this one was all about though.

you brought your friend with you, hooking her up with the address geto provided you because she had been aching to go to one of gojo's parties too.

your eyes light up when you see geto's sleek black motorcycle parked near the garage as the both of you walk to the door.

"god, there's so many people inside." your friend all but screeches in excitement and you would too if it weren't for the nerves of impending doom that geto, your everything crush and classmate, was going to see you wearing this.

the chills that come from the thought make you rub your shoulders for heat as you walk inside and the blaring of the music becomes even more booming now that it isn't being shielded by the walls of the house.

"where do you think the drinks are?" you try to speak up, a trace of small worry at bumping into geto laced in your voice.

she raises her head up and looks around to see where she could spot the alcohol until she starts dragging you by the hand, "the kitchen is over here I think!"

she pushes the both of you past clusters of people, paving the way for her desire for vodka and it makes you bump into someone a bit roughly.

you try to voice out your apology quickly as she keeps dragging you along, looking back at who you just bumped into.

it's geto.

his eyes show mild surprise, not one for entirely showing his emotions, they're widened a bit and he looks a bit taken aback while his eyes rake up and down your body–still being dragged away. he's not wearing a costume, sporting a white t-shirt and jeans instead.

the words of apology you were going to utter fall off as you make eye contact and realize it was him you bumped into, he who just got an obvious look at your costume.

you're glad the speed of your friend makes the interaction short lived due to her lightning speed in suddenly bringing you to the kitchen, which is lined with beer and liquor of all kinds, every space of the spacious kitchen taken up by alcohol.

you hurriedly reach to serve yourself a cup of strawberry vodka, hoping that the first sip and those after might make your nerves dilute. when you turn around to talk to your friend, who's probably already served herself straight flavorless vodka, she's being flirted with by her anthropology club crush. she gives you a quick glance, a combination of 'oh my god oh my god' and 'sorry' being communicated to you.

you smile at her knowingly and point towards where everyone was dancing and talking, marking that that's where you would be while you left her to go as far as she wanted with the boy in front of her.

you're halfway through the crowd to make it to the patio when a voice is suddenly in your ear from behind.

"is it as cool as people say?"

you jump at the intrusion and cradle the cup of vodka to your chest and look at who just spoke to you.

it's geto, exactly behind you, his large frame towering over your body and leaned over so you could hear him.

you're stopped in your tracks and turn around to face him now, trying hard not to feel intimated by your basically half naked right in front of him.

"yeah!" you nod

geto turns his head a little from his spot at least a foot above you and leans down again, at level heads with you

"sorry, say that again." he looks at you earnestly, wanting to be able to properly hear your answer with the loud music echoing into your ears and his.

"I said yeah! I didn't know parties could be this packed!" you say, taking a nervous sip from your cup as you look at him

"what happened to your friend?" geto keeps his posture the way it is to keep talking to you

"the guy she likes started talking to her!" you exclaim past the loud blare of music.

"ah." he nods, taking a quick glance to the kitchen and spotting your friend smiling eagerly at the guy in a jason costume in front of her. "what are you going to do then?"

you blink cluelessly, haven't actually thought about until he asked you.

"dance!" you look around the room so he could look with you. bodies pressed against each other and bodies dancing by themselves all across the room.

geto smiles and straightens himself before reaching a hand out to you and gives you a look of 'wanna take it?'

you can't help the bashful smile that makes its way to your face as you hesitantly take his hand. he softly brings you closer to him, not as close as the other horny bodies in the room, but it's a little intimate and makes you feel intoxicated. he puts his other hand high on your waist, making sure to avoid the sluttiness beneath that line of your torso considering your outfit, and he starts to sway the both of you to the music. he holds you to himself with you hook an arm over his shoulder and use the other hand to hold your drink, singing along to the music with a toothy smile.

it was playful, the interaction with him, a fun setting between the both of you. the combination of that and the large heap of strawberry vodka you served yourself and managed to finish by the second song with him were the reason for your increasing comfortable nature with him. you were laughing and laying your head on his chest frequently through your endless bursts of energy and gasping breaths for relief.

he was smiling throughout the entirety of it, never getting too comfortable though, and keeping his hands where they had originally been.

"I just wanna be one of your girls tonight!" you sing at the top of your lungs.

geto lets go of one of the hands encircling you and instead reaches for one of the hands splayed across his shoulder and chest, caressing it with a thumb.

you tug at him a little with your other hand and he leans down to hear what you're about to say.

"wanna get drinks?" you ask, craving a sweet hard seltzer instead of another pour of vodka.

"you want something?" geto asks you back

"are there any strawberry drinks?" you blink up at him

geto looks like he's thinking for a second, trying to remember the usual drinks his best friend caters, before he nods, "yeah there are. want me to get you one?"

you nod eagerly at him and follow him to kitchen. he had taken a hold of your hand when he noticed you were going to accompany him, he didn't want you to struggle getting through all those people.

he had been bent over to look through a cooler on the floor before he stood up and held out a strawberry daiquiri to you, "here."

"thank you." you nod before you jump and sit on the countertop so you could rest and drink

you notice geto doesn't have a drink in his hand when he leans against the kitchen island in front of you.

"you didn't want a drink?"

geto shakes his head calmly, "gotta drive back."

"oh." you remember his motorcycle from earlier near the garage and strike another question so he doesn't know that you know he has a motorcycle. incredible logic.

"what kinda car do you have?"

"ah, not a car, a motorcycle." he smiles slightly, the answer was humble

"oh~"you drag out–as if it was new information to you–and continue drinking from your bottle.

"you have a ride back home though?" geto asks, crossing his arms over his chest so he could be more comfortable while listening to you.

"uhh," you reach for your phone and see a message from your friend asking if it was okay for her to go to McDonalds with her crush, "well I was going to uber with my friend, but she just had a change of plans."

"I can take you home." he offers genuinely, tilting his head in await for your answer.

"In your motorcycle?!" you blurt out

he starts laughing heartily at your answer and smirks at you when he speaks again, "never been on one?"

"no." you shake your head, a bit intimidated, "what if I fall. im literally naked im gonna get cut up by the road."

geto smiles at you, "that's a fair concern, but I'll give you my helmet and let you borrow my jacket, it's big, it should cover you up a bit no?"

although the alcohol leaves your brain empty, you think it over which involved nothing but staring at him in supposed 'thought' before you nod, "okay."

"can I give you my number? so you can send me your address?" geto asks, shuffling a little bit closer to you

"mhm." you hand your phone to him and watch as he types away into your phone before he hands it back to you. when you stare back at his contact name, suguru geto, it makes a dawn of realization wash over you.

"you don't know my name, rig–"

"y/n."

you do a double take at how fast he says it and his eyes crease at your reaction.

"what?"

"you get involved in the lectures a lot." he takes note for you

"oh." you sink back into yourself

"do you know mine?"

you shyly respond with a, "yea, you get involved a lot too..."

"good to know." he grins a little, watching as you take the last sip of your drink and gesturing back towards the dancing scene, "wanna go back?"

"yeah." you confirm softly, taking the hand he gives you so you can get off the countertop smoothly. and when your feet touch the ground, you yelp, "ow ow ow ow!"

the hour of pure dancing and jumping around had not been a good rival for your new and tall heels. they were a height you had walked before, but the shoes themselves were new and not worn in, causing a great deal of pain across your entire foot.

geto held you by just below your armpits, the worry he had seeping through in his widened eyes and his leaning over to see if he find out what was wrong with you.

"what's wrong?" he asks quickly

"the heels," you scrunch up your nose in pain and sigh, "they hurt like a bitch now that I got a bit of rest."

you can tell geto feels bad about your pain by the way he grimaces for you and plants you on the countertop again. he suddenly kneels down and begins to work at the clasps of your heels.

"you can borrow my shoes. that sound alright?" he looks up at you from where he's at, already sliding one of the heels from your feet.

you're quick to deny, "but what about you?"

"satoru and I are the same size, I can just ask him for a pair, he has a million."

you give in at his response, embarrassed, "okay."

"you want me to take you home now?" he lightheartedly smiles as he works on the other heel, "I think you can walk in my shoes, but dancing doesn't seem doable."

"well yea." you say dejectedly, a little frown etching itself on your face when he finally comes back up, his lips quirk up a little when he sees it

"wait for me here then." he says, putting your shoes next to you on the countertop before he walks off a little hurriedly to you assume gojo's room.

when geto walks you to his motorcycle, he takes your heels and puts them in the compartment box of it for you, then takes his helmet and immediately puts it on your head.

an 'oomf' leaves your mouth at the sudden weight of it and he looks a little amused as he starts working at the straps of it.

"there you go."

he smirks a little as he looks at the, very large in comparison to you, helmet, and picks up his jacket that he brought back from gojo's room to put on you.

"there we go" he sighs, almost like he's proud of himself and gets on the motorcycle, turning his torso a little to pat behind him for you to get on too.

when you get on and take in the feeling of sitting on a motorcycle for the first time, he's turned around and looking at his phone, pinching and zooming in on the route to your apartment.

"you actually live pretty close to me." he murmurs, noting what roads to take.

"yeah?" you yawn, laying your head on his back

"alright," geto says, starting up his motorcycle, revving it up a bit, "hug me tight okay?"

you nod sleepily and wrap your arms around him, brain so eased by the alcohol in your system that you don't overthink it, as if your sober self wouldn't be screaming and crying on the inside during this exact situation.

geto drives off at a decent pace, some part of you thinking that this might not be the speed he normally drives off and that he was taking it a bit slower just for you. you could feel him breathe in and out all throughout the ride, his chest and stomach were rising and falling underneath your touch. you fell half asleep on him halfway through it, managing to grasp onto him like a child with their stuffed animal, and unable to resist the heaviness of your eyelids.

you blink back to reality at the sudden stop of movement, the stilling air was no longer brushing past your skin and the noise of wheels screeching against the road was gone.

after geto helps you get his helmet off, he hangs it on one of the handles and takes your heels out of the compartment box.

"this is your place right?"

another yawn flutters past your mouth again and you hold out your pointer finger to say yes.

"alright." geto says, watching as you lead the way into and through your apartment and to your place. he had placed a ghost of his hand near your back in case you started to trip up from his shoes considering their size in comparison to your feet. the walk was quiet considering your focus on making it to your door and the overwhelming sleepiness dawning on you.

when you get to your door you slip off geto's shoes and them to him, taking your heels from him in return.

"thank you, geto." you hold try not to yawn again, doe eyes sleepily fluttering at him

"you can call me by my first name." he comments comfortingly, "and no problem. see you in class?"

"yeah." and this time you do yawn, again, before you open your door and walk inside, looking at him while you hold onto the frame.

"alright then." he looks down at you from across the doorway, one hand in his pocket, the other holding onto his shoes, "get some rest okay?"

"okay." you almost murmur, your bed calling out to you.

you get to class at the time you usually do the following class meeting. the weather forecast had been a little chilly, so you opted for a cozy, off the shoulder sweater. it was fashionable and you had been dying to use it the moment you saw the weather forecast the night before.

you're scribbling notes onto your iPad this time, going over lecture notes from your earlier class that day. there were some things you forgot to add and that's what you always used this time for before class started. you see the class start filling in minute by minute out of your peripheral vision as you do this.

your habit of pretending to not care about suguru's presence is still existent, so all you can see for a fleeting second when you look into your backpack for a mint is that he is indeed sitting at his normal spot with gojo.

there was no chance to look at him that day in class, he hadn't spoken, which wasn't really rare, sometimes you wouldn't speak in class either. you, however, did speak in class that day, the module that the professor was teaching that day had piqued your interest a great amount and thus called for a great amount of your interaction with the lesson.

by the end of class, you were setting quick reminders on the notes you had taken of what was the most important before you started packing your bag to leave. the sound of feet and shuffling to leave the class a bit noisy, but it could let you make out the distant loud voice of gojo, probably talking to suguru.

"I have been on my best behavior. I do not know what you mean by that Suguru." "No no no that was a favor, look where it got you." "Oh you are such a wuss."

It was only a little appealing considering the fact that you couldn't hear what suguru was saying and the things that gojo was saying didn't let you get any clues as to what they were talking about. oh well.

you wanted to go home and start studying for a test tomorrow, so you started walking out of class, past suguru and gojo's line of view.

you heard a smack, like one of them had hit the other.

and gojo's voice, "idiot."

you were sitting at your desk, going over the last of your test review when you felt your phone buzz across the desk and picked it up

suguru

hey

y/n

hi

suguru

you wanna take satoru's seat next class?

y/n

he wants to flirt with mika again?

suguru

not rlly lol.

y/n

?????

suguru

I think it'd be cool to switch desk buddies every once in a while ;)

y/n

lmaooo. I won't tell mika if that's what you're scared of

suguru

haha, that's not rlly the case, but just take his seat

y/n

okay?

when you go to class again that same week, you hesitantly take gojo's seat. there was no follow up text from suguru after you said your okay and it was a little off putting. of course it had only been that night and the day after that he hadn't texted again, but it was a little weird, especially for it being the very first text conversation he strikes with you. the only thing that had been exchanged between either of you in your messages had been your address to him from gojo's party.

there were no notes for you to go over, there was no test or important knowledge that you had to use soon in any upcoming classes, so you were left to wait for the class to begin while you aimlessly scrolled through your phone and watched people come into class.

three minutes had passed before suguru and gojo were walking into class together. gojo was rubbing his friend's shoulder rather roughly, a fang filled smile on his face as he said something to him. suguru didn't seem to mind it, like many things, his eyes still had that warmth they always had, but it looked like he had said something back.

gojo playfully shoved suguru forward by the back before he laughed evilly and walked to your original seat, if you were right, you could see his bright blue eyes flick to you for a second behind his glasses before he smiled at the girl he flirted with last week.

you look up at suguru as he finally gets to the seat next to you.

"hey." he sighs with a smile as he plops into the seat.

"hey." you smile only halfway, a little tired from staying up to finish a homework the night before.

"sorry about the cryptic texts." he starts to apologize, moving his chair a little closer to yours, "satoru took my phone."

ah. that's why it seemed so out of character

"it's fine." you reassure, "they were a little off putting to read."

suguru scratches at the back of his neck, "I'm sorry about that. I meant to text after but I felt awkward."

"really? about?"

for the first time, you see him stumble on what to say, hesitance obvious when he opens and closes his mouth for a painfully slow second before he manages to respond, "to see if you were coming to the party on actual Halloween night this weekend."

"oh." your mouth opens in a little oh, oblivious to what he really wanted to say, "I'm not too sure. my friend that I went to the party with is spending it with that same guy she left with. so I don't have anyone to go with. plus I already used my costume."

"what's wrong with using the playboy bunny costume again?"

you eye him, disappointed, and lean over to flick his forehead, "i...am not an outfit repeater, suguru. the people who saw me at last week's party are going to remember me and say 'she's using the same costume again, what a loser'"

he gazes back at you as if you pat his head instead of just flicking it, warmth and a hint of mischief seeping into his stare, "you're right, you did catch a lot of attention."

"what?"

suguru leans back in his seat and answers, "you looked beautiful. it was hard to ignore."

"for who?"

"for me and every guy with eyes at the party."

he seems calm and confident when he says it, but his cheeks and ears start to get a slight pinkish hue as he awaits your response.

you try to keep looking at him, fighting the need to look away and wait for the professor to start class, your flustered face saying all too well what you're feeling, "what am I supposed to say to that?"

"you don't have to." suguru moves forward, positions his feet to face you as well as his face, and puts his elbow on the table, slanting his body onto it a little, "The president of gojo's frat asked for your name. He really liked you."

"Zenin?!"

"You like him?" he asks, with the tone of a guy who would try to set you up with the president if you said yes.

you shake your head, gaze looking down in embarrassment, "no no. it just caught me off guard..."

"if you like Toji it's fine," he tries to lower his head so he could catch your eye again, speaking earnestly yet something about it sounds like it's fake, it's weird, "he's like a dog, treat him well and he's loyal. although he can be brutally possessive, probably the type to leave hickeys on your legs if you're going to be with him and wear a costume like the one from the party."

"no, I don't like him. he's not my type." you answer meekly, having felt a bit of pressure from his boasts of the frat president.

"no?"

"no."

and before he can continue with his intense conversation again, you're saved by your professor, dramatically entering the class and bellowing for all of you to pay attention to him.

when your class ends, you try and succeed at scampering away from suguru before he can get a word out. as if she possessed magical powers, your friend called you the moment your professor ended the lesson. within the millisecond her name popped up on your phone, you grabbed at your phone at put it to your ear.

"hello?"

"hey hey! I have a question!"

you pay no mind to suguru as you haul your backpack over your shoulders and begin to walk out of class.

"what's up?"

"do you want the extra halloween costume I bought? levi is taking me to dinner on halloween for our date and I won't get to use it."

"the fembot costume?!"

you can almost makeout the banter between suguru and gojo a way's away behind you as you walk down the concrete steps of the building.

"yeah! you can go to gojo's party in it!" she beams, before her voice gains a bit of malice, "you can dance with motorcycle guy again~"

"go there by myself?" you groan, almost wanting to stomp your feet on the pavement beneath you

"lots of girls go by themselves to parties!"

"well I've never done that." you grumble

"aw come on. use the costume and go for me. pretty pleaseeeee."

"I'm going to give you a reason to be scared on halloween if this goes south for me. got it?"

it's cold when you get to gojo's party and you're beyond psyched out of your mind. from the unbelievably slutty costume that let everyone see your naked body in panties due to sheer babydoll material and the fear of coming across a very handsome suguru or toji zenin, who as handsome as he was might be able to seduce you, but you didn't want him like you did suguru.

you're more conscious of the stares now, due to suguru's previous comment and the fact that this costume was way more revealing.

on instinct you rush to the kitchen and get a strawberry daiquiri like the one suguru got for you exactly a week ago. you didn't want to get drunk tonight considering you came by yourself, so reaching for the strawberry vodka again was not within your list of options.

your eyes were on high alert as you pushed yourself through the countless bodies dancing, trying to remain unseen.

it doesn't give you cause to hide for some reason, considering he's suguru's friend, but you see satoru strut to the kitchen in a slutty firefighter costume. he was wearing the pants and boots, and nothing on top but a set of suspenders. classic.

however, you do a double take when you suguru geto wearing that same exact costume. you swear you feel your eye twitch in frustration when your eyes see his hair finally down, splayed across his back and chest, and get a peek of a tattoo tracing his spinal structure, bone for bone, going all the way up his back until it gets interrupted by his hair. his arms are practically calling to you when he fist bumps a toji zenin wearing a prisoner costume, they flex and bulge at the action. his abs are all perfectly prominent and–

he just made eye contact with you.

you hadn't gojo walk up to him and whisper something into his ear, probably that you were here.

fuck you satoru gojo.

suguru smiles immediately and turns to walk to you, leaving you to stay in place and not run away from him.

"you bought another costume?"

"no," you feel your chest heave at the sight of him, breath getting caught in your throat with his very shirtless self right in front of you. it makes you look off to a girl dancing behind him when you continue, "my friend gave me hers because she didn't end up dressing up."

"you want me to bring zenin?" he points a thumb behind him, towards the kitchen, face the definition of calm and suave.

you glare at him this time and take a sip of your daiquiri

"what? feeling shy?" he smiles down at you, if he weren't such a peaceful seeming person, you would have said it was condescending

"I'm not into zenin." a tinge of irritation already seeping into your voice.

"you sure?" he moves closer to you, your face right smack in front of his chest.

"yes." you jut your chin at him, done with his shenanigans

his lips twitch a little when he tugs your strawberry daiquiri out of your hands, grabs you by the neck, thumb close to your chin, and says, "open your mouth." he immediately starts to chug from your daiquiri and the thought of realization dawns on you of what he was about to do.

you open your mouth and he pushes his body closer to yours as he spits the drink into your mouth, his eyes solely on yours as he does it besides for when he briefly looks at something or someone behind you rather haughtily. he's still holding you and intently watching when you swallow it down immediately. that familiar happy crease of his eyes sketched itself across his face after.

you're heaving a little, star struck by the action the both of you just committed, "what was that suguru?"

"scaring off zenin. you don't want him right?"

his eyelids flutter a bit, something yours did whenever they were sleepy and it makes you search into his eyes more. your curiosity dying when you see the sudden red veins clouding the whites of his eyes. and you push him off.

"are you kidding me? you're high?"

"and drunk." he smiles, not minding your pushing him off and still inserting himself into your personal space again.

you try to speak and can't, solely out of irritation at the fact that he did that because of his intoxicated state. you bite your lip to stop yourself from overreacting and settle for shaking your head.

"you don't like guys who smoke?" he asks, genuine concern laced with his stupid crossed persona at the moment, "I tend to never smoke, but satoru passed me his joint when I was already at the 'whatever happens' point of a tequila bottle ."

"I really don't care about that in a guy, as long as he's not a musty constant weed user that can never cope with his life." you roll your eyes at him slightly, "but you just spit alcohol into my mouth because you're crossed as fuck."

"no." he scoffs, now entirely entranced in his conversation with you.

"yes."

"I spit alcohol into your mouth so zenin wouldn't come up to you."

the response makes you cross your arms over each other, "a simple 'hey she's not into you like that' would have sufficed."

"where's the fun in that?" its a serious question for him, you can tell by the way he patiently waits for your answer

irked, you look up at the ceiling while biting your cheek, trying to gather yourself again before you say, "sober up geto." and turning to walk away.

you made it your mission to stay hidden the entire party, having entered the deal with your best friend that if the night turned sour for you, she would come with her boy whatever to pick you up in his car

after their date.

which wasn't going to end until an hour or two.

the garage had stayed open to the enormous frat house, although there weren't any people in it. people had respected the space, leaving the miscellaneous in it untouched such as the two cars and...suguru's bike.

you eyed it from the rather comfy bean bag in the darkest corner of the garage, feeling a fight or flight instinct at the mere glimpse of it whenever you looked up from your phone.

it had been almost two hours since you last suguru and you were striving to keep the streak going on longer.

"told you I'm going home satoru." a wary and very sobered up voice says when they open the door to the garage, "I drank enough water, I'm sober."

it's suguru.

there is no stagger in his step and his posture is refined as he walks to lean again the trunk of the car furthest from you and closest to his bike. you remain hidden due to the cars covering you from his line of sight as well as the sheer darkness of the corner.

he's wearing a shirt now, another black one, and he rakes his hands across face when he gives a defeated sigh. you hoped he wouldn't notice you.

this was your Friday the 13th movie for sure.

suguru pulls outs his phone from one of the spacious pockets of his fireman pants and he starts to type away immediately. there's a slight buzz from your phone seconds within the action.

suguru

are you still here?

I'm sobered up now.

he shoves his phone back in his pocket after. and you watch as he stays where he is, crossing his arms across his chest while he waits a good five minutes for you to respond, which you don't do. he gets his phone out again after and taps something randomly before he puts his phone up to his ear.

buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz

the strong buzzing of your phone on your thigh make a ricochet that gets's fine tuned ears pick up quickly.

"y/n?" he's shining his phone's flashlight on you, squinting his eyes just a little to try and make you out.

nervous, you mutter, "what."

suguru turns the light off and sighs, walking to your corner, his eyes already getting adjusted to the darkness.

"why didn't you answer me?"

"do you really not know the answer?"

"you're right." he sinks down in front of you, sitting down on the floor and brushing a stressed hand through his hair. his legs are stretched out and basically manspread even though he's not on a chair.

"satoru didn't text you to switch seats with him because he wanted to flirt with mika" he comes forth, both of his hands laying across his knees.

you're confused, "but–"

"it was a wild attempt of his to help me talk to you again." and he laughs, a burst of energy randomly gracing the intense air. suguru raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck while his chest and stomach ricochet and his teeth peek out from his mouth.

"truth is, I really like you." he's still smiling.

the declaration makes you stare blankly at him and a million goosebumps rise across your entire body.

"if you don't feel the same in that regard it's fine of course." he reassures, back to his normal calm self, "I just thought it would help explain my behavior."

"since when?" you peep

"our first class meeting," suguru seems a little bashful at the confession

"I have for a couple of weeks now too." you meekly profess

suguru seems genuinely surprised, his eyes widening, "you have?"

"why do you sound so surprised?" your brows knit.

"it felt like you didn't know I existed until last week." he grins followed by a small huff of humor

"oh...that," you trail off, embarrassed, "I thought pretending you didn't exist was the best way for you to not know I had a thing for you..."

"satoru is far smarter than me in that aspect." he says, "he insisted that you were doing that when I told him."

you giggle a little, "he read me like a book."

suguru hangs his head for a second and groans, still joyful, before he whips his head up and gazes at you, "I apologize for having never gathered the courage to approach you before. I have Satoru to thank for even getting me here with you in the first place."

"it's fine." you shrug, pulling at your own fingers, "we're here now aren't we?"

"we are." he agrees before leaning over. suguru grabs one of your hands and brings it to his lips, placing a soft kiss onto it while his eyes never leave your own.

"want to go back to the party?" you muster past your nerves, focus solely on the warmth of his hand still holding onto yours.

suguru shakes his head lightly, "I'm enjoying it being just the two of us right now. do you want to?"

"no, I like it here too."

theres a moment of silence, where both of you stare at the hands that the both of you have connected until a strong breeze passes and flutters the thin material of your babydoll up and makes you shiver strongly.

"let me." suguru says as he hastily gets up and gets his leather jacket that's hanging from his motorcycle, then brings it back to you, helping you tuck your arms into the sleeves and get comfortable in it.

he's above you when he does it and you can see the small glances he tries to avoid giving your body, especially at the sparkly pink thong peeking through the see through material of your costume. suguru is making sure his jacket is on your properly when you call out to him suddenly.

"suguru."

he doesn't get the chance to respond when he looks back up at you and you pull him in by the material of his shirt to kiss him.

he reciprocates within seconds, after the surprise wears off and places a hand on your thigh, the other next to your head and grabbing at the beanbag. his lips are soft and have no remnants of alcohol on them, a smooth flavor of his skin and flesh meeting your tastebuds when he dips his tongue into your mouth. it elicits a groan from him when you whimper at the contact.

he pushes as much as he can into your space without falling and you follow suit, trying to lift yourself as much as possible off the beanbag to meet him.

a particular whimper has suguru pulling away from you and pulling you up by the arm so he can maneuver you to sit on the trunk of the car next to you. when he plops you down onto it, he slots his torso between your thighs and pulls you for an even deeper kiss. his hands have a strong grip on your thighs as he keeps you against him and you can feel the distinctly large throbbing of something against your panties through his pants.

"are–mmmm–you hard?" you ask through kisses

suguru can't help the grind of his bulge against your core when he answers and keeps kissing you, giving small nips to your lips, "yes."

your eyes are closed into the kiss when your hands navigate to the waistband of his pants, about to reach for–

"not here." suguru mutters and keeps both of your wrists clamped under one of his large hands.

you pull yourself away from his lips and heave, a pout of sexual frustration illustrated on your eyes and lips. "okay."

he raises a hand to caress your cheek as he smiles fondly, "what?"

"nothing."you look away for a quick second, leaning in to kiss him again after.

suguru stops you before you do though, clamping one of his hands against your mouth while the other holds the back of your head.

he's smiling even wider this time, "now what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you touch me before I get to touch you?"

you slouch in his hold, too upset by the fact that you couldn't touch him or go back to kissing him to care about his words.

"you know, even satoru couldn't keep his eyes off of you in this little costume of yours." he looks down for a second so you could too, "god knows what toji was thinking. I saw the tent in his pants when you took my spit and booze like a good girl."

suguru sees the way you shift your hips for a smidge of relief at his words. "are you my good girl?" he leans his forehead across yours, hand still on your mouth. you try your best to let out a muffled 'mhm' and incessantly nod your head, eyes pleading and hands gripping onto his shirt.

"are you going to answer the phone when I text you next time?"

you give him the same answer again.

"god." he warily eyes you, gaze wandering towards the outline of your breasts and the rest that wasn't covered by your thong, "you're so beautiful."

the hand at the back of your neck trails down and moves some hair away from your shoulder, then ends up holding you by your lower back as suguru leans down and starts to mouth at your neck. he starts off small with his intentions, simply placing soft and subtle kisses, eliciting a ticklish response from you until his lips become searing and he goes in with the intent of leaving hickeys on you, it makes you squirm and suguru lets you, it's not like you can break away from his touch anyway. you use your legs to keep him caged in and closer to you eventually after the third 'pop' you heard coming from his mouth on your skin, it makes him audibly laugh for a second too.

you tug at the hand on your mouth, expecting for the task to be hard considering his build, but suguru lets his hand fall away easily and hold onto your thigh.

"what are you thinking pretty?" he asks mindlessly before going for the opposite side of your neck

"mmmm–about how good–mm–this feels."

"yeah?"

"mhm"

"tell me what you want to do. do you want me to drop you off at your place after this?" he blows on your most recent hickey and smirks when he sees you jump a little, "do you want me to get you food?"

"I want–ah!" suguru bites into your neck fairly hard, enough to make you moan and yelp at the same time, "I want to spend the rest of the night with you at my place. can we watch a scary movie?" the suggestion is simple and it isn't to hook up with him, although that's what you want more than ever now, but you don't want him to think you're that desperate so its what you settle for.

"couldn't imagine a better halloween than that." he smiles

you're under suguru, on your bed later that night, the movie you had been watching was long forgotten and the t.v. was turned off the second things started to get out of hand. it wasn't his fault no, suguru's a gentleman and when you said you just wanted to watch a movie, he was just going to watch the movie with you. you were the instigator. after you had been cuddled into his arms, near his neck, you decided to place a few loving kisses...that eventually turned into what this was with suguru getting up to take off and throw away his shirt while you hastily yanked off the long gloves of your costume.

he was needy, grinding his hips into yours the moment he came back down to kiss you.

"you have no idea how fucking bad I've been wanting you." he mutters, hissing when a particular rub pleases him the right way

it makes your back arch, "I think I do suguru."

"really?" he groans into your mouth, "you touch yourself to me like I do for you?"

"yeah." you sigh, clinging onto him even more, splaying your hand across the soft skin of his back.

"move your panties to the side."

when he feels your hand move down and follow his directions, suguru moves his down too and slides a finger across your soaked folds.

"fuck, this pussy is so wet for me. were you even trying to pay attention to the movie?"

"yes, I was." you complain, and whimper when he starts rubbing circles across your lower lips, gathering your slick for added stimulation after every rub.

he separates himself from kissing you to look down at his ministrations, mouth opening in a soundless moan at the sight.

"listen to this sloppy fucking pussy." he rubs faster and you start to jerk your hips up by natural defiance at the stimulation, but he holds you down "no, let me touch you baby." he says sternly

your breathing starts to pick up and you feel that familiar knot that only you can give yourself starting to build up in your stomach and suguru notices, looking up to smile at you.

"are you close angel?"

concentrated on the feeling, all you can do is nod your head and he speeds up his pace at it, garnering close to wanton moans from you and screech like whines.

"come on come on, cum for me pretty girl, cum cum cum cum–fuck, atta girl." suguru talks you through it, mouth opening in awe at the sight of your body going limp and your breathing slowing down, his cock even twitches at how cute it is that your legs kick a little when you cum too, he thinks he'll be able to keep them still when he gets make you cum on his cock.

you start to hiss at the overstimulation when he keeps rubbing your clit after your high, "'s too much suguru."

he doesn't stop, "you want to stop now then?"

the shake of your head makes his eyes light up and bite his lip with a grin, "then just let me keep going."

it takes all of your strength to lean up with one of your elbows and grab his wrist with the other, obvious strain written across your features when you huff, "I want you inside me."

like he knew that was what you wanted, suguru's grin grows wider, "are you sure?"

you nod your head in confirmation, followed by suguru saying, "so cute." before he gets up and pushes his pants and boxers down in one swift motion and climbs on top of you, manhandling your legs by pinning them to either side of your head into a mating press.

he lets his cock teasingly rub up and down your folds while he leans down to nip at your ears, "let's leave your little costume on yeah?"

you nod and make a face when his tip catches on your entrance

suguru lifts his hips at your confirmation and pushes his tip in, savoring the way you're beginning to invite him inside you.

" 's so big sugu." you whimper in shock at the larger than expected intrusion

"never taken a cock this big?" he pulls out and pushes in again a little deeper

"no." you rake your hands down his arms

suguru laughs, "good thing I'm here to provide then right? see, look at you creaming around me already."

the words make you look down at where you both meet and when he pulls out again, you can see the ring and slick on his dick, it makes you shiver.

"I'll–make–this–little-fucking–pussy-take–me." he punctuates each and every one of his words with a thrust that pushes himself deeper and deeper inside you until you can fully feel his tip grazing your cervix and every vein on his dick ridging against your walls from how girthy he is.

every sound that comes out of your mouth after is incoherent when suguru starts to punishingly pummel into you and god does he keep talking to you.

"you look so pretty taking this dick baby. god, you sound even cuter than I imagined. you like getting stretched out like this? fuck, take it take it take it. wish I could make you sit on it, you'd look so cute trying to ride me."

it's all so much, especially when every thrust is accompanied by a moan or groan of his or with a sentence.

"couldn't fucking wait to get home after the party last week too. wanted to rip off that costume and fuck you till you couldn't even scream. and when you wear those skirts with pantyhose to class?" suguru groans, "all–I–can–think–about–is–bending–you–over–and–stuffing–this–pussy–with–my–cum."

"suguru!" you squeal, "im–I'm gonna cum!"

suguru tightens his hold on your thighs at the admission and starts jackhammering into you, "cum around me baby. let me fuck you through it." it almost sounds like he's starting to beg, "just cum for me, cum for me, cum–"

a silent scream leaves your mouth and you trash in suguru's hold while he keeps his furious pace.

"so pretty, angel." his eyebrows knit as he watches you orgasm and feels you clamp down on him. it has his peak lurching across his body and his thrusts grow erratic as he starts spurting his cum into you.

he leans down to kiss you as his cock twitches inside of you, leaking his cum into you each time.

at the end of the kiss, the both of you are heaving against each other, smiles on both of your faces until you erupt into laughter and giggles.

suguru is still inside you and places a loving kiss on your forehead, swiping away your sweaty baby hair, "you're cute when you cum. you kick your legs a little, I like it."

the confession has you trying to shy away and suguru laughs again, caressing your head, "why are you shying away? you wore this costume for everyone to see just a couple hours ago."

"well this is you telling me you think the way I cum is cute, its quite different than guys looking at my thong." you shakily grab onto his shoulders

"I suppose so." suguru nuzzles into your neck, "do you have a bath?"

"yeah."

"let me start one for us then." he pulls out and both of you look down at your lonely entrance until his cum starts to leak out. suguru seems entranced and you can see his cheeks start to gain a red hue accompanied by the blood starting to rush to his cock too.

suguru looks back at you the moment you do too. you reach a hand out to him and he crawls back on top of you.

"we can do that later right?"

"right."

[too-deviant]

strategic manoeuvre.

— WITH…ART DONALDSON!

contains...babysitter!reader, age gap, 18+ MDNI, art cheats w reader but it is lowkey implied that tashi planned the whole thing, car sex, semi-public sex, head (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, inspired by this post from @traumatrios

You had never been interested in tennis before Art. 

You weren’t interested in sports at all, really — you just wanted to buckle down and focus on your college work, earn some money with an easy part-time job. You didn’t have time to follow sports, or anything else. 

But then you got a call. You had been in the middle of a lecture when your phone buzzed against your notebook, a California number shining up at you and enticing you to pick up. Normally you would’ve let it go to voicemail, but you had recently gone around some of the fancier hotels in your city with flyers, asking for babysitting jobs and posting your number, so you excused yourself with a wave and took the call in the hallway. 

You didn’t know who Tashi Donaldson was when she introduced herself, but the hotel she’d asked you to come to later that night was fancy enough that you didn’t question it. You had done an extensive google search afterwards, of course, but simply raised an impressed brow at her repertoire. 

Then you met Art, her tennis player husband and the father of the lovely little girl you would be taking care of, and suddenly you were pretty interested in tennis. 

It started when Lily had a bad nightmare and you couldn’t get her down — well, it started when you met the guy, palm sweaty in his own as he introduced himself, but it didn’t really start until you had to put one of his old games on the TV for the girl to watch until she fell asleep at your side, tear tracks from her bad dream dry on her cheeks. 

You had been planning on carrying her back to her bed when she was down for the count, but you had been so fixated on Art’s movements; his determined look, his arms, his legs, that you ended up dropping out too. You woke up a few hours later with a blanket over your body and Art standing quietly at the kitchen island behind the sofa. 

“You looked peaceful. Didn't wanna wake you.” He’d said, sipping at his tea, and you knew you were done for. 

Now all of a sudden you had time to watch a tennis match in the morning, play one as background noise while you studied. You had started following his tennis journey right from the Junior Open in 2006 — you didn’t think you'd ever actually see him again, but you could fantasise about it whenever you remembered the smell of his cologne as he thanked you for taking care of Lily, promising a big tip would go straight into your account in the morning. 

(The money went in fifteen minutes after you’d left).

It came as a pleasant surprise when Tashi’s number popped up on your screen once more, a few months later. You had been in your kitchen, and took the call the moment you recognised the digits. 

“We’re a little ways out of town.” She’d said, “But Lily raved about you for days after last time, and we know you better than a stranger. If you can’t make it out here, don’t worry, but we still wanted to try our luck.”

We she’d said. As in her and Art. 

You cursed yourself for lusting after a married man in the uber to the hotel. 

From then on out, you became their primary babysitter. Since they travelled a lot, and Tashi’s mom was with them most of the time, you only really sat for them once every couple of months. The town you lived in was sunny and had a huge private sports centre for professional athletes — a fact you weren’t aware of until Art told you over a cup of tea — so they always came back. You were glad you could count on them coming back — it was like magic, the way your phone lit up with Tashi’s now saved contact whenever the late night bingeing of matches and interviews stopped fueling your infatuation. 

The guilt was almost enough to make you ignore it, say you were busy or just get a new number all together. But you never did. As much as you knew it was wrong, you always dropped what you were doing and drove to that cushy hotel where the receptionist knew your face and let you in with a smile. You travelled that same memorised route to the master suite, knocked on the door and made sure you were standing far enough away from the peep hole that you didn’t look weird and distorted when Art would look through before letting you in. 

It was always Art now. Tashi had greeted you a few times but lately it had always been him — a sick part of you thought she might’ve known about your crush on him, played with it for fun because she couldn’t play tennis anymore. But that was crazy, and you really needed to sort yourself out. 

You would greet him with a smile, push through the small talk, lean up against the kitchen island and watch his shirt stretch around the planes of his back as he made you coffee (On those unlucky days he would be wearing a shirt. Sometimes he would be just done with warm ups and physio and would answer the door half naked and covered in sweat. Those were the good days). Then Lily would come running at you from her room, hug you around your waist and pull you in to play; Art would laugh and grin at you, sliding the coffee cup in your direction and holding your eyes before heading to his room to get ready. 

You would be knee deep in headless barbies and chewed up polly pocket clothes when he and would return, dressed up and ready to go. He would lean down, kiss Lily on the forehead, and press his hand to your back in a silent goodbye. Then he would leave, and you would spend the whole day trying to pull yourself together. 

He was married. He was ten years older than you. He had a child, and was paying you to look after her. 

But he always made you coffee when you arrived — just how you liked it because he remembered. He always checked in on you, asked you how your life was while you nursed the mug that was warm from the beverage and his hands. He would tell Lily to behave for you because We like her, and we don’t want to scare her off. He would let his land linger on your back half a second longer every single time he left. 

But.

But Tashi was the one who would call you. She was the one who made you coffee the first time, told you it was the least they could do for you. She would walk out of her room with Art, smile at you and tell you how beautiful you look in that shirt. She would grin at you before leaving, waiting patiently by the door for her husband to take his hand off your back. 

You were evil. Truly. The guy was married. 

But as evil as you were, you always made sure there was an old game of his playing on the TV when they would return — because then Art would prompt you to stay and listen to him talk about it. And you would have an excuse to lean up against that island and watch him make tea while Tashi excused herself to bed. Hours would pass before he was checking his watch and hissing out an apology for keeping you so late, and then letting you leave. 

The first couple of times he’d simply make sure you got in your uber safely. Then he started calling cars himself, the same ones that would drive him and his family to and from matches, press events. The same sort of service celebrites used, not their babysitters. You didn’t mind — it was a thrill, listening to him ask the person behind the wheel to make sure you got back safely.

(The bar was under the court at this point, but at least you were aware of that).

But tonight was different. In more ways than one. 

In the beginning, all was the same. You were left sitting on the plush carpet of Lily’s room surrounded by lego pieces, a burning in your gut and guilt in your heart. You played doctor, you made dinner, ordered room service after her relentless begging, put on a movie, carried her sleeping form to bed, came back and watched Art play tennis until he returned. 

You had started to run out of games to watch, ones you hadn’t already seen, so settled for an old game from 2006. He was playing against his old partner, Patrick something, and you wondered where the lesser known second half of Fire and Ice had disappeared to after that night. 

Then Art came back, Tashi right behind him, and you smiled at them both over the back of the sofa. Tashi watched the game, something unfamiliar glinting in her irises, before blinking back at Art, “I’m going to bed.”

He responded a little slower, kissing her goodnight and looking back at you, “Tea? This game was one of my most memorable.”

“Even though you lost?” You teased, leaning against the marble. 

He paused, looking back at you. He blinked, “Yeah.”

You drank your tea. You pretended like you weren’t full of shame for standing that inch closer to him. You let him talk until he had nothing left to talk about, and watched him check his watch. You waited for him to pick up the phone and call the car — only he paused by the phone, hand floating just before it, and retracted his steps to the kitchen, “I’m gonna drive you back, if it’s not too much trouble. Saves waking up my driver.”

“Oh.” Your fingers twitched, and you told them to stop. “Sure, of course.” 

Art’s car wasn’t what you had expected. Thinking back on it, he didn’t seem like the sports car type, but his status and riches led you to assume you were about to get into one of the two seats in his Bugatti — you didn’t. The black jeep was expensive enough for someone like him, but close enough to home that you didn’t feel like an outsider climbing into the passenger seat.  

The drive wasn’t all that far — twenty minutes both ways, so Art would’ve been back before Tashi fell asleep if he hadn't pulled into a parking lot five minutes out. 

Your lips parted, eyes following his hands as they slid slowly off the wheel and into his thighs. His chest rose with a deep breath and his jaw constricted when he swallowed. Then he was looking at you, eyes piercing. 

“Lily likes you.”

You were unsure, feet shifting beneath you, the sound encasing the silence of the space and forcing you to stop and blink, “I’m glad. I like her.” 

“Tashi likes you.” 

You weren’t too positive that she would like you if she could feel how you were feeling now — that all too familiar heartbeat pulsing between your legs with every one of Art’s breaths. 

“I like you.” He finished, tilting his head until his temple rested softly on the headrest of his seat. His smile was almost taunting when he undid his seatbelt, “Which is your favourite?”

“What?”

“The games.” He clarified, knowing his question was too broad and that you would have to ask, “The ones you watch every time you’re over. The ones I assume you watch even when you aren’t sitting for us. My games. Which is your favourite?” 

“Oh. Um —“ Slightly distracted by the way he shed his jacket, dumping it in the backseat. He’d lent all the way forward to take it off and his eyes didn’t leave yours once. “I don’t know.” 

“The one you were watching tonight.” He asked then, “What’d you think of it? Honestly.” 

“Honestly?” You swallowed, mortified that you were even entertaining this, “You looked a little distracted.” 

He huffed a laugh, finally looking away and letting you breathe. It didn’t last long, because he was then getting out of the car and rounding the front of it. 

The breeze was cool when it hit you, Art blocking most of it from where he stood in the gap. His hand was still on the handle, but you were busy unbuckling your own seatbelt — the message had been received, you had crossed a line and he was kicking you out of his car. 

But when you turned, legs swinging carefully into the cold, his hand on your knee stopped you from really getting out. Your eyes snapped up to his, and you realised you had been caged — with one hand on the door and one hand on you, Art Donaldson had you right where you had been dreaming of him having you. It felt surreal. 

“My opponent. In the game from tonight.” He breathed, glancing around casually like you were having one of your simple conversations over tea. “He slept with my wife.”

Out of all the things… 

“What?” Your eyes darted between his, but the rest of your body otherwise remained still. Even when his hand on your knee travelled upwards. 

“He’d slept with her before. In college. We weren’t together then.” He was now watching his hand move, like he wasn’t the one moving it, “But then he slept with her again, in Atlanta. After I’d already married her.”

“Wow.” You breathed, mainly because it was the easiest word you could slide out of your mouth whilst holding your breath. His fingers reached your thigh, begged to dip between them. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He was quick to respond. Your legs parted on instinct, and at this point you had surrendered to being an awful person — although maybe you’d fallen asleep on the couch and this was all a dream. You didn’t think you’d be able to face Art if it was. You couldn’t even face him now. 

He took the newfound space for granted, stepping between your legs and holding them open with his body. His hand on the door followed him, taking its new place on your other leg. He rubbed up and down your thighs, but you couldn’t look away from his face. 

“I don’t want you watching him play.” He spoke lowly, tracing his fingertips around your waistband, “I’ve seen enough of his games.”

“Okay.” You didn’t hesitate to let out, swallowing the hungered saliva that had built up in your mouth. 

He unbuttoned your jeans, pulled the zipper down — painstakingly slow, but it allowed you time to brace your hands on the seat and the dashboard so you could raise your hips and let him slide them off you. 

You were stuck in your head, but Art didn’t seem to notice since he was too busy folding your jeans and hanging them over the open car door. You dared question it through a heavy breath but he just moved on to your panties, throwing them precariously on the dashboard and exposing your glittering cunt to his bright eyes. 

“We shouldn’t —“ It was a half-assed attempt at reconciling with your guilt, but the fact that you were half naked and spread eagle made it lose its meaning. 

Art shushed you, kneeling down so he was looking at your pussy, “We can, and we will.” Then he glanced back at you, brow arched, “Unless you don’t want to.”

Any sense of rationale had fucked off when he put his hand on your leg, so you swallowed and said, “I want to.”

He wasted no time, licking a thick stripe from your asshole to your clit. You knocked your head back with a gasped moan, bucking into him and hissing when the gear stick poked you in the back when you led back too far. 

You let out a shaky breath as he lapped you up, tongue dipping inside of you before travelling up to that sweet spot and sucking at it gently. You gasped and moaned, hands scrambling between holding yourself up and holding him down. His own were resting on your thighs — his calm and collected demeanour was a drastic contradiction from your own. 

His head nodded calmly between your legs, relaxed in its position — yours, shaky and tense all at once, neck bracing whenever you fell back. His hands tapped soft melodies on your skin whereas yours tightened around whatever was in their old, whether that be the leather of the seats or the blonde of Art’s hair. 

When he finally came up for air, his chin was coated in your slick, and he licked his lips clean before straightening up above you. You watched, paralysed, while he unbuckled his belt, threw it over the door with your jeans, and sent you a look under his lashes that you’d only seen him wear during his tennis matches. 

You had been keeping quiet earlier, but when he bottomed out inside you and started to piston, your mind went wild. Choruses of Oh my God and Fuck!, shouts of Art’s name and whimpers under your breath — it all came tumbling out and you couldn’t even try and stop it. 

Not that you wanted to; your vocality seemed to make him go faster, harder. It made him vocal, no longer calm and relaxed as he had been when eating you out, but loud and gruff. Grunts and moans you had dreamt about hearing outside of a television screen, now being huffed into the air you shared. 

You came with a whine and Art followed not long after, and you settled there for a moment — legs spread in his passenger seat with him standing between them — until you could muster up the strength to push yourself up. 

Five minutes later and you were both dressed, Art’s black jeep parked outside of your apartment building. You hadn’t exchanged any more words, but when you turned to slam the door once you had jumped out, you found his eyes on yours. 

“I have a game this weekend. Two hours out. Tashi wanted you to come. A gift, for all you’ve done for us.” 

(You went to the game. Art won. Tashi grinned like she’d made it happen and then offered to buy you a drink).

divider by @cafekitsune !!

[terrestrialnoob]

Harley crawled into the apartment. It was organized, but it looked like the occupant didn't have a lot of time for cleaning. She walked softly through it, taking it in. There were photos of her target and what had to be her family, but no friends or romantic partners. Some had a pair of older adults, matching traits meant bio-parents. More of the photos were of the target and a younger boy - a little brother, the highest likelihood of becoming another target if things go bad.

Harley continued forward, following the light to where her target was. She stood in the doorway, looking in.

Dr. Jasmine Fenton, Arkham Asylum's newest psychologist, just got her degree and everything. She did what most newbies do, actually thinking she could get through to the Joker. Harley didn't want to say it was impossible, but everyone who tried ended up in a new job or dead. Harley would try and make sure it was the former and not the later.

Harley watched as the redhead read over a file as she ate from a takeout box. She didn't want to scare the girl, yet. The scaring her away from Joker came later. So, she had to wait for the perfect moment to-

"I know you're there." Jasmine didn't look up from her file, but held out the last box of Chinese food in Harley's direction. "There's plenty if you want some."

"Awe, you ruined the surprise." Harley walked out of the shadows of the hallway into the girl's home office. She snatched the offered box of food and took a few bites as she jumped to sit on the desk.

"I'm hard to sneak up on." Jasmine said, closing her file and finally looking at Harley. "So, Dr. Quinzel, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this evening?"

"Oh, call me Harley!" She laughed, she wasn't called Dr. all that often any more. She tapped her chop sticks on the file Jasmine just closed. "I thought you'd like a consult on your new patient, Dr. Fenton. I've got a lot of experience with him."

"I prefer to go by Jazz." She said with a smile, "While I appreciate the offer, I'd like to see how far I can get on my own. And, sorry, but I'm pretty sure your license was revoked."

Harley nodded as she swallowed to get the noodles out of her mouth. "I get it! You're new, fresh outta school, gotta prove yourself. But Joker ain't the guy to do that with. He eats people like us for breakfast, and in all the years he's been in Arkham, no one's been able to get anywhere with him."

Jazz sighed, "I don't like to believe people are lost causes. There's always something we can do to help."

"You can't help everyone, especially when they don't want it. And it's not just a question if whether or not he can be saved or whatever." Harley set down the now empty box, Jazz pointed to another one that still had food in it, but Harley declined. "If you keep it up, he'll think you're worth his time to torment. There's no telling what he'll do when he inevitably gets himself out again."

"I'll be fine." Jazz said, but Harley had to cut her off before she said something stupid.

"It's not just you! You've got family out there he can target, your parents. Your Brother! Anyone you date will become a target! He'll do everything in his power to make your life miserable!"

Jazz chuckled. "If he wants to target my family, his funeral. My parents are - were supervillains. They've really only become less- well, hyper-focused on eradicating an entire race of being- in the past few years. And my brother - I'm pretty sure he's conditionally immortal. So that's nothing to worry about."

"If it's conditional, Joker will find a way around it." Harley said, but she had to admit, this might have been an unnecessary trip. "You sure y'ain't got nothing to worry about? What about you? How conditional is your mortality?"

Jazz smiled. Her mouth seemed too wide and with too many teeth. "Oh, I am nowhere near immortal. But..."

She stood up and the room was suddenly a black void. Toxic green eyes and mouths filled with glowing white teeth opened around them. "I doubt anyone could get close enough to test it."

The room was suddenly back to normal, but whatever that thing was was still there. Harley could see its eyes watching her with amusement from inside Jazz's oversized cardigan.

"Well, I guess this really was a wasted trip. You've clearly got it covered."

"Not entirely." Jazz said, her hand wend up to her neck to rub nervously, "Well, you see... I don't really have a lot of friends. People tend to get - uh, creeped out, you know? Or chased off by my parents or brother or whatever..."

"You wanna be friends?" Harley laughed so hard she almost fell over.

Jazz's face turned bright red and the shadow eyes looked way less amused. "Yeah, stupid question. You've clearly got your own things going on."

"No! No, no." Harley had to take several deep breaths before she could look Jazz in the face again. "I 100% wanna hang out with you!"

"Really?"

"Oh yeah." She took another deep breath, "I mean, I really should have made a support system before trying to take on the Joker back when I worked for Arkham. This" she pointed between them "can only end well."

Jazz's face turned brighter than the sun. "Oh my gosh! This is amazing! We should - I have Thursday's and weekends off - What - what kind of things should we-"

Oh man, Jazz was like an excited kid. She must have had a really lonely childhood... they can psychoanalyze each other later. "Come over for girl's night next week. I'll tell my gf and bff to expect an extra person... Does the-" she motioned to the cardigan creature "-go everywhere you go? Does it need food?"

"Oh, don't worry about Jet, they only eat who I tell them to."

Harley barked out more laughter. "You're going to fit right in!"

Now featuring a Part 2

[azrielhours]

Domestic

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 1530

Synopsis: Az watches you get ready for an event. He's never seen the process before and is extremely taken by it. It feels so personal to him and he can’t explain it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’d never known an intimacy so sweet. It’d likely become an injury he’d carry afterwards when it came to an end.

A taste of domesticity he didn’t even realize he’d been missing out on.

Hours left for the gala they’d be attending, and you were getting ready. The sweetness of watching it unfold was meditative. A window to your most private hours, so glaringly personal that it felt like a sampling of commitment.

He looked forward to this—it quickly became Azriel’s favourite part of the day. All his to savour.

He’d known yearning, he’d known the sex. Had pined over Mor for centuries, pictured a life with her, ached for the void he felt. Coveted pretty females, kept lovers to satiate himself. He was well versed in admiration from afar, but never been privy to the process where a female sat in front of a vanity and readied herself.

And somehow, this felt more intimate than all the rest.

You’d been hesitant about attending the long-haul mission when you learned it would just be you and the guys, but Azriel and his brothers consciously accommodated you right from the start. Before the various dinners and galas, Cassian would train until the very last moment to avoid making you feel rushed. He’d come in 15 minutes before the time to leave, throw on a suit and make some snippy joke about his exhaustive beautifying process. Rhys would be in and out of the room, ensuring all arrangements were taken care of, then savour his time getting ready which actually was exhaustive.

Azriel? He always had reports to go over that kept him strictly in the room. Kept him where he could sink into the luxury of watching your routine unfold.

Fools envied those who found mates for the companionship, the physical intimacy, the assurance of partnership. That’d been what Azriel ruminated on when he watched Rhys love Feyre, Cassian love Nesta. A fool indeed, because he’d never even considered this side of things.

It put entire fantasies in his head. How it would feel to have this routine with you—where you were his. He’d be watching it all happen from his bed. You’d be this comfortable in his room. Take up space in his life. A life where this was his to claim.

Even Mor—all his years of aching for her—any overlapping missions, and she’d kept him from seeing this side of her. There was truly no instance where he’d been let in this way. No relationship or lover where he got to see and learn it.

He’d been memorizing it. It was always a bath first that you’d come out of smelling intoxicating. Gleaming skin beneath a thin dressing robe that ended above your knees. It took a while for you to feel comfortable sitting in the shared room in just your robe, but it took Azriel even longer to be normal about it. To rid himself of thoughts about what stayed on underneath it, or what wasn’t on at all. He didn’t miss the blush that coloured your cheeks when you’d come out, from the heat of the bath or the awareness of your undress. A blush that Azriel matched when he’d look elsewhere, trying to avoid discomforting you, to avoid letting Cassian or Rhys notice his attentiveness.

Next was the dressing table component, where you were currently seated. Your robe sinfully inched up your legs when you lifted your arms to fuss over your hair. Arranging pins into various places. The focus in your eyes he’d catch in the mirror made the thoughts eddy out of Azriel’s brain.

So, so pretty.

A pinch between your brows as it slowly fell into place right. It took a week before you began comfortably playing your symphonia during the routine. Quietly, even though Rhys insisted it didn’t bother anyone. Azriel shuffled his papers, listening to the music that you faintly hummed along to. A breath of feminine exasperation left you that drew his eyes up—you were done with the hair. Tired from the effort.

Azriel bit back a smile at the labour of it all.

His favourite part was next—the cosmetics. Face creams first. A little perfume oil roller down the length of your pretty throat. Intention behind every brushstroke on your skin. Precision in shading beneath cheekbones. He shamelessly looked up to catch the part where you smiled at your reflection to set the rouge on the apples of your cheeks. Looked away again.

Kohl smudged into your lash line. Smaller brushes to sweep pigment on your eyelids. You didn’t notice his glimpses, too focused on the accuracy. A miniature comb you applied to your lashes, brushing upward and coating them black.

Your most beautiful feature, those hypnotic eyes.

He listened carefully for the click when you opened your lip rouge. He glutinously watched you apply colour to your sensuous mouth.

What he’d give to feel that motion he witnessed, the drag forward and back across your lips beneath the pressure of the rouge. The plush he could see—could practically feel. Colour he could envision smudging prettily with his thumb.

He cast his gaze down again. A composing deep breath, nearly shuddering.

Rhys cleared his throat, making Azriel’s head snap to him where he was sitting at the desk. He’d been getting dressed. Azriel didn’t even notice he’d sat down. A hateful smirk pulled the corners of Rhys’s mouth up. Azriel glared, returning his focus to his reports.

You admired your completed work, checking the presentation from various angles. Azriel would stare at the angel in the vanity too if it weren’t for his bastard brother making silent insinuations to his side.

He was spared when Cassian entered the room, looking at you, and releasing an inflated sigh of relief. “Thank God. We can let you out into the public again.”

You laughed mirthfully. “I’d say the same about you, Cass, but you could use a little work.”

He only approached you, crowding your space. “Can I get some of that?” he nodded to your products.

You laughed again, scooting for him to unceremoniously squish at your side on the tiny bench. You dolloped something onto your fingers, twisting to smear it onto his face, grinning.

“Azriel wants some too,” Rhys chimed in.

His heart faltered.

You glanced back, meeting Azriel’s gaze, brows high. He had to clench his jaw to keep down any reaction. Your beauty stunned him, and whatever Rhys was playing at, whatever you were going to do—

He was too startled by the suggestion to think to deny it. Too late, he realized, his silence implied agreement.

Somewhat bashfully, you rose in answer, product in hand.

Azriel remained frozen as you approached him. Both his brothers watched, but all he could care about was the homecoming he felt when you sat next to him on the bed.

Did you have any idea how profoundly personal it felt?

That feeling of Déjà vu befell him again—whatever version of this domesticity existed in another life where this was his. You were indeed on his bed, more bare than not. About to touch him like he was all yours.

That part bore the most truth, in this life and whatever other lives he was getting visions of.

You sat close enough that the skin of your knee tested his focus. It was just moisturizer that you’d squeezed onto your fingertips, but God did it feel like something precious, or maybe it was the sense of reverence you put into anything you touched. He held his breath as you raised your hand and gently smudged the cream across his cheekbones.  

Azriel felt like a teenager all over again, heart soaring at the tenderness.

Eyes focused, you leaned closer. Your other hand came up to gently cradle his face, thumbs stroking the product more intently into his skin. He hoped you couldn’t hear his heart as you stroked across his cheek a third time. Warm and soft. Azriel savoured the proximity. How even more devastating you looked up close.

“There,” he felt your breath softly puff onto his cheek. You retracted your hands, bracing yourself on his bed.

“Thank you,” he muttered lowly. The two of you remained for a beat. This time, Azriel didn’t try to hide his stare.

You finally broke it, seeming to recall the intrusive observation of your viewers. You rose, heading to the bathroom.

He couldn’t care less about his brothers’ prying eyes. Not with your warmth still sinking into his skin.

So, so familiar.

When the bathroom door finally opened, he snapped out of his thoughts. You’d changed into your gown. Your eyes found his immediately, chin marginally dipping under his gaze. He noted your slight shiver, and he allowed himself to wonder if you too felt the strange air. Charged with false nostalgia.

You only shook it off, smiling at him.

He felt it prickling again as he drank in the sight of you. Like flashbacks from another future. Something in his chest tightened. Likely the injury of tasting this domesticity already setting in, it seemed.

He only smiled back.

He’d figure it out later.

~  

taglist: @iimisty-a @feyretopia @riddlesb1tch @cullenswife @reiincarnatiion @sfhsgrad-blog @answer-the-sirens @mrstangerinejohnson @marigold-morelli @courtofjurdan @azriels-mate123 @emotionless-lover @marina468 @slvtherinseeker @owllover123 @banasheefan56 @nyotamalfoy @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @lilah-asteria @bakananya @deep-forest-creature @itsswritten

[hausofwoo]

graphic | mark lee

pairing: mark lee x afab reader

word count: 6.6K

summary: stuck in the monotony of your job at the mall, every day feels the same: opening the store, sitting behind the register, and counting the hours til close. you've even memorized the routines of the stores around you. but when a new guy starts at the comic book store across the way, you realize your predictable days may soon change.

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, comic book store employee!mark, retail employee!reader, really cute and fluffy until it's not, public sex (public space but no one is there), unprotected piv (DONT DO THIS), mark throws u around like a lil play thing, oral (fem recieving), fingering, use of a petname (baby), lmk if i forgot anything!

author's note: this one took forever yall i know its been a while! been going thru some shit irl but things are settling and i was deadset on finishing this bc it's so cute :'-) thank u to T and @hausofmingi for being my beta readers ( ˘ ³˘)♡

working at a mall can be really tiring, but it’s not so bad when you have a crush.

you’ve been working at a retail store at your local mall for a few months now. it’s boring, there’s too many people on the weekends, and you have the worst hours. you found yourself working open to close for far too many shifts. but at the end of the day, at least it keeps the bills paid.

on slow days during the week, you’re always sat at the register, scrolling through your phone or twiddling your thumbs, counting down the seconds til closing time. sometimes you would even stare off into space, watching people pass by all day long.

you went to work always knowing exactly how the day would go; set up shop, maybe help some customers, and do fucking nothing for 8 to 10 hours. maybe a wave to the employees at the stores surrounding you, but sadly, that was usually the most interesting part of your day. you became accustomed to the monotony though, watching the same employees open up their shops next to yours.

the store directly across from yours is a comic book store. you know the few people that worked there, usually just saying “good morning” and going on with your day. you swear, you have this store memorized, knowing when the employees take their breaks, who’s working, what they’re working on that day. you didn’t really mean to, but when all you have to do is daydream, you kinda picked up on the routine there.

so when you arrive in the morning for yet another brutal open-to-close shift, you expect to just roll up the security shutters and sit back at the register all day. but there’s something different today; or rather, someone different.

sitting at the register at the comic book store is a man you’ve never seen before. his hair is perfectly messy and his glasses framed his eyes, which are focused on reading a comic. he’s working all by himself, which is surprising to you since you’re certain he’s new. you catch yourself staring and try to brush it off. he’s a new guy, so what?

you try your best to go about your day as normal, but you can’t help stealing glances over at the man at the store across from you. he has a captivating energy, and it makes you want to know more about him. he seems charismatic, being friendly with customers and earning smiles, then resuming his doodling once they leave. you notice that when he looks really focused, he bites the corner of his lip gently.

you gotta stop staring, or he will definitely notice. you decide to actually work on something for once, organizing the stock and straightening the shelves. soon enough, closing time creeps up on you. you do all of your closing duties and grab your things from the back. you close the security shutters, looking behind you quickly to see that the man is doing the same. he notices your gaze, so you kindly wave at him. instead of a wave back, blush forms on his face with a shy smile. and with that, he walks away.

the interaction was unreadable. he seemed to be so extroverted with customers, having no issue having casual conversations with them. why is he getting all shy now?

you started to pick up on the new routine at the comic book store. from what you could tell, the man worked similar hours to you, often opening and closing too. he rarely worked with anyone else, so the majority of the time you glanced over, he was reading comics, manga, or doodling in his notepad.

you never really got into comic books like that, and only dabbled with reading manga, but the growing interest in this man made you curious about learning more on what he was reading. maybe it wouldn’t hurt to check out the selection? perhaps get some recommendations? you just finished a short shift today so now was the perfect opportunity.

after grabbing your things and saying goodbye to your coworker, you make your way over to the comic book store. you approach the man, who’s sitting at the register as usual, reading. you see his name tag on his chest; a cute red pin with a spider-man drawing next to his name, “mark.”

“hi,” you say, pulling his attention away from reading.

“oh, hi,” he says, placing his comic down. “sorry, i didn’t see you come in.”

“it’s okay,” you reply, looking around at the goodies at the register. “i was wondering if you have any recommendations for a beginner at reading comics?”

“oh for sure,” he says, eyes lighting up. “marvel has tons of great ones. you could start with an ironman one, or maybe captain america? i personally like spider-man, but i’m definitely biased.”

“i’ll try spider-man,” you say after a beat.

mark gives you a nod with a warm smile before leaving the register to grab your comic. he searches through the spider-man section until he finds the first issue. he returns to the register, ringing you up.

“i think you’ll like it, it’s really good,” mark says, handing your receipt to you.

“i’m definitely looking forward to see what all the hype is about,” you chuckle. the conversation pauses for moment, clearly indicating that the interaction is pretty much over with. but you don’t want the conversation to end there, so you find something to keep talking about. “you’re new here, aren’t you? like you just started working here?”

“yeah, sort of,” he says, sitting back in his seat at the register. “i used to work here a while ago and i just came back ‘cause they needed someone.”

“oh nice,” you reply. “welcome back i guess?”

“haha, i guess,” he smiles, rubbing his hand on his neck. “it’s chill here, but it gets kinda boring.”

“tell me about it,” you chuckle. “it’s so slow during the week. i usually have nothing to do.”

“yeah, i just read or draw to pass the time,” mark says, pointing at his notepad on the counter.

“you like to draw?” you ask, curious.

“yeah,” he places a hand on the notepad, grabbing it. you can tell he’s getting shy again. “it’s just doodles.”

“you’ll have to show me some of those ‘doodles’ sometime,” you say with a sweet smile. you check your phone for the time. it’s getting closer to dinnertime and you’re starved. “i guess i’ll get out of here.”

“okay,” he stands again. “well, let me know what you think of the comic.”

“i will,” you say, turning to leave, then flipping back to look at him. “mark, right?”

he nods, asking for your name as well. he beams at you. “it’s nice to meet you. see you tomorrow?”

“see you tomorrow,” you say with a wave, walking out.

for the next week, you find yourself aching to talk to mark again. you read the comic he gave you, and it provided a little bit of insight into him… that he’s a bit of a nerd. definitely not a bad thing. it’s actually really endearing to you, knowing his life basically revolves around superheroes, free time and work alike. that he probably draws little comics in his notepad, and has sweet dreams about being superhuman. why is that so fucking cute?

you have a reason to talk to him again, of course: the next issue of spider-man. the problem is building up the courage again, which is ridiculous because he’s just a guy. a nerdy one at that, and you know that he would be putty in your hands if you really wanted him to be. but the longing you developed for him during those long hours of your shift, seeing him across the way, looking so cute in his round glasses… it’s making you nervous in a way that is difficult to explain.

you’ve been putting off going back to his store at this point. wouldn’t someone that wanted to get into superhero comics come back for the next edition? why aren’t you using your excuse to talk to him? not only that, but he even said he wanted you to come tell him what you thought of the comic. you’re just overthinking things.

you have another short shift one day, and decide today is the day. you gather your things and walk to the neighboring store, feeling the familiar butterflies you felt the first time you approached mark at the register. he’s drawing this time, crouched down and focused. he hears you walk in, lifting his head to meet your eyes. maybe you’re crazy, but it looks like his eyes light up.

“hey,” he says, closing the notepad in front of him. you present the spider-man comic to him, and he flashes a smile at you. “what’d you think?”

you chuckle, holding the comic close to your chest. “it was good, but too short. there’s another issue, right?” you joke, hoping it lands.

he lets out a giggle, “yeah, there definitely is. i’ll grab the next one for you.”

he walks over to a section near the front of the store, flipping through the excess of papers before he finds the 2nd issue. “if you liked that one, you’ll like this one even more.” he returns to the register with the issue, placing it on the counter for you.

“duel to the death with the vulture?” you read from the page. “i haven’t seen any of the movies recently so correct me if i’m wrong, but i don’t remember there being a vulture.”

“oh yeah, he’s in one of the later movies actually,” mark starts. “but you got a long way to go til you finally meet one of the iconic villians like the green goblin, or even the love interests gwen stacy or mary jane. it’ll be so worth the wait though.”

“how much do i owe you?” you ask, already pulling out your wallet.

“you can borrow it if you want,” he says.

“but this one belongs to the store, won’t you get in trouble?” you ask.

“just bring it back and it’s like it never happened,” he whispers, faking a shhh at you. “let’s just say it’s mall employee perk.”

you smile and accept it.

your new routine feels like a nice change of pace. every second of every day used to drag by, and yet at the same time, when you got home, everything that happened was so unbelievably boring that it all felt like a blur. nothing really significant happened to you. but something about trying something new, learning about a brand new niche interest, and even developing a crush… it’s finally something exciting.

you looked forward to the next time you got a new issue. not just that, but the next time you got to talk to mark. he has this charm about him that piqued your interest. it feels so easy to talk to him, as if you’ve already known each other for a long time and it isn’t just a budding friendship. you’d find yourself stopping by the comic book store a few times a week, anticipating the next comic and the underlying tension between you and mark.

like today, when you finally got off of work after a long shift. you were able to close up shop quickly and now you’re walking over to the comic book store, attempting to run in before mark locked up.

“hey, is it cool if i get the next issue real quick?” you ask, popping your head in the store.

“yeah, one sec,” he says, looking up from counting the cash in the register. “lemme just finish closing up the register.”

“are you implying that you’re gonna let me borrow another comic?” you ask, a flirty tone floating beneath.

“well of course,” he says, swiftly closing the cash drawer. “unless you want to start collecting, which by the way, SUPER expensive.”

“i think i’ll stick to being a casual reader for now,” you joke, approaching mark at the register.

“i don’t know, you might change your mind after this one,” he says, grabbing a comic from his bag. he holds it out to you, you grabbing it with your fingers briefly brushing past his. the motion makes you feel a little dizzy, and you can feel heat rising to your cheeks.

you shake your head, realizing this one doesn’t belong to the store. “wait, is this your own personal comic?”

“yeah, it’s one of my favorites,” he says, half focusing as he’s writing something on a sticky note at the counter. “i brought it in so you can borrow it.” you can see the corner of his mouth turning up, as if he’s trying to hold back a smile.

“you didn’t have to do that—”

“i wanted to,” he says, lifting his head up to hand you the sticky note he was writing on. “just treat it with care.”

you take the note, which is pale blue with a cartoon spider-man in the corner. in the middle of the note is a scrawled out phone number. you look up to see mark rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“if you want to tell me what you think?” he says, almost like a question.

“or maybe when i get bored during my shift?” you ask, chuckling.

“i’d like that a lot actually,” he smiles, his previous nervousness quickly washing away.

“you’ll regret it though,” you say, sticking the note on the front page of the comic. “because i get bored here a lot.”

“don’t worry,” mark laughs, shaking his head. “i don’t think i’ll get sick of you anytime soon.”

you finally reached issue #14 of spider-man, the one mark is lending to you. you grab it out of your bag at the beginning of your shift, sitting back in your chair behind the register and getting comfortable. you realize what it’s about and immediately text mark.

sent 10:17 am omg wait i didn’t realize this issue is the first appearance of the green goblin

you look across the way, seeing mark pick up his phone and smiling.

sent 10:18 am mark: oh yeah, he’s fuckin sick mark: you’re gonna love it

you click your phone off with a soft sigh, flipping back to your comic. you go about your shift switching from helping customers and checking them out, and reading. every once and a while, you’ll message mark with your comments and he would always reply with enthusiasm.

the end of your shift approaches quickly, and soon enough you’re closing the security shutters. you look behind you to see mark locking the doors and then doing the same. he must’ve felt your eyes on him, because he turns and flashes his famous smile to you. you walk over to him with the comic in hand.

“you were right,” you say, handing it him. “green goblin is super sick.”

“i told you,” he says, reaching for it, and your hands momentarily touching like last time. he gets flustered. “uh, i can give you the next one tomorrow if you’re working.”

“i am, yeah,” you reply, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “i am so curious though—when the hell does gwen stacy show up?”

“oh,” he giggles to himself. “you’re like, halfway there to finally seeing her.”

“i didn’t realize how extensive this series is,” you chuckle. “not that i’m complaining. i’m actually surprised by how much i like it.”

“i’m glad,” he says sweetly. “well, just come by tomorrow and i’ll give you the next issue.”

“i will.”

the following weeks, you became overtaken by superhero comics and stupid-fucking-adorable mark. you would read an issue of spider-man at work, and text mark with your reactions to certain scenes. at first you thought it might be annoying to him, but he actually seemed to encourage it, asking for your opinions on the characters and storyline.

it doesn’t help that every time you see mark, you get butterflies in your stomach. and it seemed to only be getting worse; you keep finding yourself smiling when his name pops up on your phone. you wake up excited to go to work, because you know you’ll probably have another interaction with him. sometimes, mark would even catch you staring at him and give a little nod with a smile. but what made things exponentially worse was when you catch him gazing at you too, catching you off guard but making a smile spread across your lips. you are smitten, and if anyone else was concerned, mark is probably smitten too. the issue is getting him to finally take the hint and making a real move on you.

he may get a little flustered around you, but he’s not exactly shy. after all, he did give you his number unprompted. but after weeks of going back and forth strictly talking about comics and work, you started to lose hope. you just want him. he must want you back just as bad.

after another closing shift, you watch the mall-goers pass by and file out of the building. the mall is basically empty now, most of the neighboring stores already closed and employees leaving for the day. you had to stay a little bit late, cleaning up a huge mess in the store from some rude customers. you thought you would have time to stop by to see mark, but with the amount of things you have to put away, your chances are looking slim.

you shuffle around the store, placing items back on the shelves and organizing the tables of merchandise. you eyes shift over to the comic book store, expecting to see it dark and locked up. but it isn’t; mark is still in there, half the lights still on, with him unboxing comics from their latest shipment. you already knew it was restock day for them (god you have way too much free time), but you didn’t realize how many boxes they got in.

you open the front door of your store, whisper-yelling through the security shutters. “mark!”

mark’s head turns to look at you and flashes a grin at you. “yo, you’re still here too?”

you nod, leaning on the glass door. you hold up a few of the displaced items in your hands. “go-backs,” you shrug.

he points at the pile of boxes in front of him, “restock. we got a lot of shit in early for christmas.”

“don’t say christmas please, i don’t want to think about it yet,” you say with a laugh.

you turn away to get back to work, putting all the merchandise back to their assigned spots. you don’t know what the hell got into people today; messing up all your organization you’ve done and putting things in all the wrong places. it didn’t help that you had to deal with some assholes with returns today too. you always theorize it’s from a full moon or mercury retrograde or something; those things must be the reason people start acting up.

after about an hour of cleaning, you finish up and can finally call it a day. you close up shop and turn to see mark still working on stocking at his store. you approach the security gate of the store, with its front door still propped open.

“i still need my next issue by the way,” you say to mark, who stands from his crouching position in front of an open box. he walks up to the gate and pushes it up, just enough for you to come through. you look hesitant.

“come in, it’s okay,” he says, motioning you in. you duck under the security gate, slipping into the store. “how was your day? looks like you had a lot to do.”

“yeah, the store was a mess,” you say, following him to the register. “i’ve never had to stay so late after close.”

“it’s only gonna get worse the closer it gets to christmas,” mark says while weaving around the boxes with you.

“what did i say about christmas?” you joke, nudging his shoulder softly.

“sorry, sorry,” he laugh, putting his hands up. you wait patiently for him as he kneels behind the register, looking for your comic. he pops back up with a stumped look on his face. “i swear i thought i put it up here to give to you but i can’t find it. i’m gonna go check the back.”

he starts walking to the back room, and looks back at you. “feel free to sit if you want. our stockroom is a wreck, this might take a sec.”

you nod to him, squeezing past the tower of boxes to sit in the chair at the register. it feels kinda funny to sit back here, like you’re seeing the store from a different perspective, from mark’s perspective. you look around behind the counter, seeing the little notes and cute super-hero knick knacks gathered around.

there’s a mini batman funko pop positioned in the corner, with a sticky note placed under his feet reading “no drinks at the register.” you look over to see a large iced coffee with mark’s name in sharpie. well, we all bend the rules a bit. his name tag is placed on the counter by a stack of comics. you grab it to take a closer look. it’s a plastic red pin with a white pop-art bubble. in the corner is a small piece of paper stuck on it, attached with office tape. on the paper is a spider-man doodle, made with red and blue marker and pen ink.

you’re sure this must’ve been drawn by mark. you have yet to see any of his drawings (despite your prying), so maybe seeing this one up close will give you a sneak peek into his style. it’s a little messy, with scratchy lines and colors bleeding outside the borders. despite that, it has a distinct style that you’re fond of. it’s not perfect, let alone does it look like the super-heroes you’ve been reading in your comics. but it has a quality to it that feels less polished and flat. it has character. the messiness makes it feel more… real.

you set his name tag down, placing it back next to the large stack of comics. these must be his go-backs. he’s been so wrapped up with his shipment he probably hasn’t had time to put them away. you think maybe it would be nice to help a bit. he’s been nice enough to let you borrow comics from the store, and you’re just waiting around after all.

you pick up the stack of comics, situating them into your arms, when you look down and see that under the stack is mark’s notepad. it’s not closed like you’re used to seeing it, opened to a clean white page with a drawing covering up a majority of it. it’s in a comic book style, you’re not surprised. but it has the same quality that his name tag doodle does; scrawly and messy, with no real precise lines. the colors are splashed across the page, with blotches of scribbled colored marker decorating it. then realize what it is—who it is.

it’s you.

the whole image captures you and a little bit of your surroundings. positioned at your normal spot at the register, you’re looking down at a comic with your fingers playing with the ends of your hair. but it has a dream-like feel to it, with the pages of the comic illuminating your face as if a source of power is emanating from it. and then the best part: the wings. placed behind your shoulders are pair of feathered wings, outstretched in a sketched black ink. it’s beautiful.

it’s beautiful and it’s you. mark drew you.

“yo, sorry that took so long,” mark says while emerging from the back, eyes still focused on the comic in his hands. “i finally found it, but dude i had to do some digging—”

mark’s words are cut short when he notices you holding his notepad, comics that were placed atop abandoned on the counter by you. he visibly gulps.

“mark…” you start, not moving your eyes from the drawing. “what’s this?” without a response for a few moments, you tear your eyes away to see mark with blush on his cheeks, mouth open but unable to let any words out. “did you… did you draw me?”

“look, it gets really slow during the day, i just did a little sketch to pass time—”

“mark, this isn’t just a sketch,” you say, looking back down at the notepad. “this is amazing.”

“y-you like it?” mark says, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“of course i like it,” you say.

“you don’t think it’s weird that i drew you without telling you?” mark asks, nervousness radiating from him.

“i don’t think it’s weird at all,” you say. “i actually love it. i like that you drew me as a superhero too, and one with wings at that.”

mark stays quiet, looking at his feet and probably overthinking everything right now. you look back up at him, tension building in your stomach as you ask what you already know the answer to. “you like me, don’t you?”

mark lifts his head to meet your eyes. he bites his lip anxiously as he nods slowly.

a streak of courage overtakes you as you grab his arm to pull him closer, him tripping over his own feet and crashing into your chest. you’re leaned against the counter, with mark’s arm behind you and hand placed flat on the surface. your faces are close, and you can feel his breath. his eyes are glued onto your lips, and he swallows thickly.

“mark, just kiss me,” you mumble, aching for him.

he wastes no time, leaning in to slot his lips between yours. he snakes an arm around your waist, holding you as close as he can. you melt into him, goosebumps floating across your skin in all-consuming desire. you move your hand to hold his cheek, thumb swiping on his smooth skin and fingers tangled in his soft, messy hair.

he pulls away, breath still shaky. “i’ve been wanting to kiss you for so long…” he trails off before leaning in and kissing you again, this time with more passion. he swipes his tongue between your lips, with you willingly accepting him. his hands trail up and down your sides, then finally places a firm grip on your waist and lifting you to sit on the counter. he slots between your legs, his body pressed close to yours. your fingers card through his hair, earning a sweet hum from him.

his hands trail down to your ass, pushing you closer against him to where you feel the bulge forming in his jeans. he can’t even hold back his moan, it being muffled by your lips. he pulls away again, this time kissing from your cheek down to your neck. he sucks at the expanse of skin while he caresses the other side of your throat. you let out a soft hum in pleasure, savoring every bite and lick—

“fuck, you sound so hot too,” he says in between kisses. he moves a hand down to your breast, kneading it roughly. you throw your head back, soaking in the pleasure from just his hands alone. his beautiful fucking hands, the ones that drew you. his lips feel so good on you, but his hands feel even better. it’s as if he’s been waiting for this moment for eternity and he doesn’t want to let you go. almost as if holding you, touching you is the only thing keeping him grounded in reality. it doesn’t feel real to you either; that mark, the cute boy you’ve had a crush on for weeks and weeks is kissing you, holding you, and yearning for you all the same.

you feel so wrapped up in the moment that you almost forget that you’re in public. sure, there’s no one left in the mall and the only people left are probably mall security, but the risk of being seen is still there. it just feels too good to stop.

“mark,” you say, giving in to the anxiety. “are we really doing this? right here, right now?”

he pulls back to look at you, still holding you close. “it’s just us here, and if it’s okay with you, i don’t think i can wait any longer.”

“i don’t think i can either,” you respond.

suddenly mark is ripping your clothes off, all while pulling you both behind one of the comic display cases. it’s your turn to take his clothes off, and you’re yanking his jacket off and pulling up his graphic tee and discarding them both on the floor. the exchange is a jumbled mess of constant touching of skin and clothes flying in every direction, a true testament to how desperate you both want each other. he’s kissing you all the while, taking every opportunity to peck at you between the tugging of clothes.

he leans you against the display bookshelf full of comics, completely unbothered when an issue or two falls off. your hand travels down into this jeans, feeling him hard and pulsing against your palm. you stroke his length slowly, focusing most of the stimulation on his dripping head. he lifts one of your legs slightly to get better access to you under your skirt, then looks at you as if he’s asking for permission.

you nod your head profusely before leaning in to kiss him deeply. it doesn’t last long, because suddenly he’s pushing inside you and you’re gasping at the stretch—

“you’re so—fuck—so fucking tight,” he hisses, attempting to push in as slowly as he can. your mouth is fully agape in bliss as he finally bottoms out, reaching deep inside of you. he catches your eyes, lust filled in his own as he slowly starts to move.

he’s slow at first, knowing that his size is stretching you out to the point where it’s nearly painful. but it feels so fucking good, his cock dragging in and out of your tight walls. you can tell he wants to pick up the pace, with his breath shuddering with each stroke. you take the opportunity to kiss him again, wanting to taste his soft lips as he gradually begins to pound into you.

he’s groaning against your lips, and your moans are muffled against his. you’re trying to salvage any sort of public decency by holding back your sounds the best you can. it’s when he grabs your legs and lifts you to press you against the display shelf that you realize that that shred of awareness of your surroundings is about to be long fucking gone.

he’s holding you up by gripping your ass, pistoning into you at a pace that you can only describe as brutal. it’s no use trying to stifle your moans anymore, with him hitting your cervix over and over and making you see stars at each stroke—

“mark, it feels so fucking good,” you can only whine out to him, wrapping your arms around his neck tighter, tugging at his hair—

“you feel so fucking good, jesus,” he groans against your neck, heaving breaths tickling at your throat.

his pace is wild, but the force in which he’s pounding into you begins to cause the comic books around you to tumble off the shelves, creating a pile at mark’s feet. he doesn’t seem to care though. that is, until a comic book falls from a shelf above you and hits him on the head.

“ah!” he exclaims, realizing what happened. he stops his movements to look at you, holding back a smile.

you can’t hold back your laugh, giggling profusely at the ridiculousness of the situation. he laughs too, shaking his head and letting out a sigh.

“this is crazy,” he says, resting his forehead on yours.

“i know,” you reply, still giggling. with one last laugh, he leans in and kisses you tenderly, smile still formed on his lips. you melt into him, ruffling your fingers through his hair as he begins to pick back up the roll of his hips into you.

it feels like a sweet moment, the fact that you can be doing such a scandalous act and still giggle with him. the tenderness doesn’t last for long, however, when he hits that perfect spot inside you that forces you to release a sharp moan.

“mark, oh my god,” you whimper, attempting to roll your hips down onto him. “keep doing that, please—”

“fuuuck,” he groans, feeling your core clenching around his length. “you take me so well, baby.”

all you can do now is nod, whimpering and whining on him. you can’t believe that this man that has always been so endearing, so kind and lovable has this completely different side to him that you’re only now getting to experience. it brings a different sort of intrigue to him; that he’s more than just a cute boy that works at a mall. he’s complex. he’s a fucking man. he’s a fucking. sex. god.

his breathing starts to become irregular, and his pace is back to merciless. his groans, fuck, his moaning. he’s bouncing you on his cock in the perfect way to where your moans are matching his. you can feel his dick pulsing inside you—

“i’m gonna cum,” he can only breathe out, burying his head into the crook of your neck. “can i?”

“yes mark, please,” you whine, tugging at the ends of his hair. all the while you’re clenching around his cock, bringing him closer and closer to his release.

with a low groan, his hips stutter and you feel his seed spilling into you, completely filling you up. the rocking of his hips stall, and he’s finally letting you down and kissing you sweetly, caressing your cheek with his hand.

“god, you are fucking perfect,” he whispers to you. you let out a giggle, leaning your forehead against his. “hey, i’m not done with you yet.”

he quickly moves you to the glass display counter, lifting you to sit you on it. he pushes your thighs open, lifting your skirt up to get a better look at you. he looks enamored, like he’s starving and the only thing to appease his hunger is by having you on his mouth.

he dives in, licking a stripe up your core with a groan. he repeats this action, as if he’s savoring every drop of your essence mixed with his release that’s slowly dripping out of you—

“so fucking hot,” he hums, releasing a hand from your thigh to tease at your entrance.

“mark, please,” you beg. “stop teasing—”

he attaches his mouth to your clit, swirling his tongue around in smooth, controlled circles. your hands fly to his head, body already twitching from stimulation. his finger is still prodding at your hole, wanting to enter but not just yet. he instead continues to ravage at your sensitive bud, intentional movements making your head spin. he knows what he’s doing and he knows he’s good, especially with the shaking of your thighs and high pitched moans escaping your lips egging him on.

he looks up at you, flattening his tongue out and doing long, drawn out licks. the eye contact is insane, the lust filled in them only making it that much hotter. he’s enjoying every second of this, seeing you shake and begging him to keep going. he loves the taste of you too, so sweet and almost addictive. he could die like this.

his teasing finger finally starts to deepen inside you, slowly at first. he can feel every pulse of your core around his finger, and it’s so hot that he can feel himself getting hard again. and you’re so wet, oh my god, so fucking wet. your arousal is dripping down his chin and his hand, making a sticky mess. when you start to roll your hips onto his face, he swears he’s in heaven.

he inserts another finger, feeling that tightness grip around them. it’s only getting more erratic now, clenching around him with each grind of your hips. he curls his fingers to prod at that sensitive spot, causing you to moan out his name—

“mark, don’t stop,” you whine, looking down at him basically making out with your pussy.

he continues the same movements, repeatedly hitting your g spot and swirling his dripping tongue on your clit. your back arches and legs unintentionally close around his head, making him push them back open with his free hand.

and then he starts humming against you. the vibrations send a shock wave through your body, that mixed with his fingers, his tongue, his hand gripping tightly against your thigh… it feels so intense and so so good. you cum on his tongue, with him desperately holding your hips down and he helps you ride out your high. he doesn’t stop until you’re shaking, and you have to grab his head and lift it.

“oh my god,” you gasp, slowly coming down.

he smirks up at you with arousal-coated lips. “yeah, oh my god.” he stands up, immediately going to kiss you and you accepting him, wrapping your arms around him. he pulls away and leans his head against yours.

“i can’t believe we just did that,” he says, sighing out an exasperated laugh.

“i know, what the fuck, right?” you giggle.

“are you- are you doing anything right now?” he asks. “like, do you wanna get food or something?”

“are you asking me on a date?” you ask teasingly.

“don’t tell me you decided you’re creeped out by the drawing now,” he laughs.

“yeah. suuuper creeped out,” you joke, leaning in for another kiss. you hear a noise behind you, and look out through the security shutters to see a mall security guard passing by, scrolling through his phone.

“looks like he just missed the show,” mark says, causing you both to try and hold back your fit of giggles.

a/n: thank u guys for reading! i rly enjoyed this one hehe :-) please leave feedback as i'm new to writing, and reblog to support me! it motivates me to write more!

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[writting-stuff-sometimes]

Treat You Better - Lando x Fem reader

Summary: Y/n broke up with Lando a while ago. One night she overhears a conversation that makes her want to protect him.

Warnings: Slightly suggestive, bad words, alcohol consumption.

Word Count: 16K

Notes: Nosey me really wants to know what happened at that nightclub. I hope you like it, and as always, feedback and requests are very welcome.

____________________________________

You hated this situation, you felt so bad for Lando. You couldn't shake away the memory of the model walking in that bathroom with her friend talking about how Lando was going to be the best way to help her career, and that she just had to deal with all the F1 bullshit, his and his friends' childish behavior for a couple of months to get enough contracts, and then she'll try to find true love. Honestly, you couldn't believe someone like her could love anyone but herself.

“I think you should warn him”

“I don’t know. If he still hates me as much as he did when I left, he’s going to think I’m doing it out of spite, or that I want him back”

“And you don’t?” Your bff looked at you with a knowing look.

“Off topic” You took a sip from your wine glass.

“Fine. But don't you think it is super weird? What were the odds of you and her being in London, at the same restaurant, inside the same bathroom as she decided to spill her stupid plan?"

"I must be paying some freaking karma" You sighted drifting into your own thoughts,

"Ok, enough about this, are you ready for tomorrow?"

"Are you seriously making me go?"

"Of course! Y/N, you need something to keep your mind off things and I don't want to go on my own, I barely know the guy"

Ellie had met a DJ through Tinder and he had invited her to a private party he was playing at, in one of the Monaco nightclubs.

As much as you wanted to stay back and melt into the anxiety the situation had put you in for the last month, you agreed because that was the best friend thing to do.

_________________________

You got to the nightclub, it was a launch party for a cosmetic brand. As you were led to the DJ booth, memories rushed back. You had joined Lando for a couple of nights during his DJ era. Fuck, you had missed this, and you missed him. You needed to keep those thoughts away and an open bar seemed like a good solution... or so you thought.

It had been a few hours and a considerable number of drinks when Ellie grabbed your hand and pulled you to talk to your ear, a strange choice since the music wasn't even that loud, it was one of those parties where influencers and models try to get contracts and to get known by PRs.

"Please, promise me we're not leaving"

"What?"

"Please, promise me. I'm having a good time" She pulled the puppy eyes trick, but what was she talking about?

"Ellie, how drunk are you?"

"Look over there" she discretely signaled to a table towards the exit.

What was she doing there? Was Lando there too? You almost panicked, but he couldn't be. He had raced in Baku that same day. Yes, you still knew his calendar by heart. Usually, he would fly back home the next day. This explained why she was throwing herself at some guy on her table.

"Fuck"

"You promised"

"I didn't"

"Please"

You knew this was a bad idea, you already dreaded the girl, and seeing her hump all over some guy, as Lando was away, made your blood boil. You tried to stay and keep her off your mind but it was impossible, there was no amount of alcohol in this world that could make this situation bearable.

"I'm going home"

"Y/n, please"

"If I have to see her dry-hump another guy for two more seconds I might actually punch her"

"Don't go! C'mon"

"Elle..."

"Fine, let me know when you're home"

You hugged your friend goodbye and rushed towards the exit. On your way out her voice caught your ear, that voice you couldn't keep out of your head. Clearly, you had offended the gods.

"Oh no! I'm single at the moment. I'm sooo tired of dating man-childs, like, they're fun but it's so exhausting trying to have a conversation when all they can talk about is themselves and how cool their little toys are"

Before your brain could catch up with your body, you were already making a beeline toward her.

"Hi, sorry, can I steal her for a second?" You faked a smile to the PR as you grabbed Mila by the arm and pulled her toward a dark corner of the club.

"What the fuck? Let me go!" She tried to shake your hand away when she recognized you. You finally let go of her and stood cornering her against the dark wall.

"Listen to me, you're going to stop this nonsense about Lando"

"Why? Does your career need a boost and you want him back?"

"At least I have a career people can talk about, and not just who's going between my legs"

"Fuck you" She tried walking away but you blocked her path.

"No, you're going to listen to me, you little shit. You and your stupid friends can think whatever you want about Lando, but I won't let you damage his image just so you can have your five minutes"

"I don't know what you're talking about" Her shit-eating grin seemed even worse to your alcohol intoxicated eyes.

"Really? So it wasn't you who told one of your friends that you just had to deal with this F1 bullshit for a little while to get enough contracts?" Her breath hitched for a second but then the smug face returned.

"Please" she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. You wanted to punch her stupid grin away.

"Last warning, either you stop this nonsense, or everybody will know what a shitty person you are"

"Honey, no one's going to believe you, they will just think you're a jealous, bitter, ex-girlfriend"

"Are you sure? Have you seen the comments?" You pulled your phone from your bag waving it in her face " You don't seem to have the crowd on your side. So, listen, "honey", you want to date him, be my guest, but stop talking shit about him, he doesn't deserve it"

"Fuck you" She pushed you to the side and walked back to her table. You turned around and people were staring at you, also a few phones were pointing your way. Fuck, this was going to be all over the place.

_____________________________

You were still shaking when you got home. You hadn't been this angry at someone in a long time.

You took a cold shower to ease the heat inside you, took a sweatshirt from your closet, and went to bed.

_____________________________

"I'm surprised you didn't punch her in the face, you're such a grown-up" Ellie sat by your side on the couch.

"I wanted to, bad. But I'm not jail material. What about you? I was expecting Mr. Dj to be here this morning"

"We went to his house"

"And?"

"It was nice and all but you know I don't sleep out-"

A hard knock on the door caused a stinging pain in your head. Stupid open bar.

"I'll get that" Ellie walked to the door as you laid your head back on the couch and closed your eyes trying to ease the hangover pain.

"Please tell me Mr. Dj sent coffee"

"I guess you're in for disappointment" His voice made your heart stop.

You took a deep breath before opening your eyes and leaning back up to look at him.

"Can you give us a minute, Ellie?" He spoke before you could say a word. Your best friend who looked as shocked as you, turned your way. You nodded yes.

"I'll be over there. Nice to see you Lan" She walked to her bedroom and mouthed "Tell him" as she passed you.

"Care to explain?" You could hear a slight hint of anger in his voice, and like the psycho you were, it was making your heart rush. You were always playfully pushing his buttons to anger him enough that it would lead to rough sex, but sex was not the final outcome this time. So you had to take another deep breath to ease the heat inside.

"Y/n?" His saying your name did not make things easier. The space around you started to feel smaller by the second. You stood up and walked towards the kitchen.

"Coffee?" Your voice hoarse, as if you had been screaming for hours.

For a second his mind drifted off topic, your outfit being nothing but an oversized sweatshirt caught him off balance, even more when he realized it was one of his. A buzzing on his phone brought him back to reality and the name on the screen back to the topic.

Mila Where are you, baby?

"No thanks, I'm not here for coffee, I'm here to find out what the heck happened last night?" He followed you but kept a safe distance.

You started working the coffee machine, a cheap way to escape his presence, as a fight took place in your mind, should you tell him? Was he going to believe you?

"Y/N, I don't have all day, why did you attack Mila?"

"I didn't attack her" You finally spoke.

"That's not what the media says, and what the video shows"

"There's a video? You can't be safe anywhere" You joked.

"I'm being serious" He finally walked up to you taking the empty mug from your hand. "What the fuck was that? just because you don't have anyone in your life, it doesn't mean you have to ruin my relationship with Mila"

Low blow, Norris.

"Relationship?! Please, Lando" You spat before you could process the words.

"What? Just because you didn't want a relationship with me it doesn't mean other people won't want it either"

"What made you think I didn't want a relationship with you?"

"Umm, the fact that you ran away in the middle of the fucking night after ONE fight, ghosted me for two weeks, and just sent an "I can't do this anymore" text before blocking me from every single place? I'm not stupid"

"It wasn't just one fight. We had been fighting so much for the last month, and that last time the only difference was the volume"

"But that happens, just because we love each other it doesn't mean everything is going to be sweets and roses"

The word love sent lighting throughout your body.

"Lan, I didn't leave because of those fights. I left because you weren't happy with me, with us" Your eyes started watering, leaving him had been one of the toughest decisions.

"What?"

"You were lying to me, you were hiding. Does that seem like a happy relationship?" He stared at you confused "I knew about your nightclub and dinner escapades when I wasn't going to the GP's. I never minded you going to those things without me, I don't know why you started lying about them?" You could see it on his face he knew he had screwed up.

"But I never cheated or anything, I promise"

"I know, but it felt as if I was keeping you from doing stuff you wanted and that you felt the need to hide from me" You felt like he was being forced to be with you, like you were keeping him from things he liked.

"Y/n, I was so fucking happy with you, I just...I wasn't thinking. I saw how others got in trouble for going out alone and thought, I... I fucked up" He walked closer toward you and shily played with the hem of your sweatshirt.

"Lan -" His phone rang in his hand, Mila's name on the screen shattering the moment completely. You sighed and stepped back "Just be careful, ok?"

"Careful?"

"She might not be what you think she is"

"What are you talking about?"

You bit your lip still unsure about spilling it all out.

"Y/N"

"I heard her at Scully's a month ago. She was with some friends, I was in the restroom when she got in and I heard her tell her friend that she just needed to deal with F1 for a while to get enough contracts" You kept the details to yourself, they felt unnecessary.

He looked hurt but not surprised.

"I'm sorry" You whispered.

"Is that why you were fighting yesterday?"

"Yeah, basically" You weren't sure if telling him the "attack" had also been fueled by seeing her dry-hump two different guys was good, it seemed he had received the message.

"Why would you care?" He softly asked, his green eyes fixed on yours.

"Lan" You turned back to the coffee machine, the noise grounding you and keeping your mind from drifting into the romantic scenarios it was dying to go to.

"Tell me" He took a step closer. You could feel his body heat radiate towards you.

"Just" You knew where this was leading, what he wanted to hear, but you weren't sure you wanted to say those words.

"Bull" His hand landed on your hip. The electricity from his touch made you jump.

"Lando, stop it please" You stepped to the side escaping his touch.

"No" He took you firmly by the waist and turned you around, trapping you against the counter. "Why would you do that?"

"What do you want to hear?"

"Just tell me why did you do that?"

"Please just leave it" You closed your eyes and threw your head back, this situation and the awful hangover were killing you physically and mentally. But all Lando could see was your neck, it was almost begging him to kiss it, but he fought the urge, he needed you to accept you wanted him too.

"No, I don't want to" His voice was almost childlike.

"God Lando, damn it! I did it because I couldn't stand her talking shit about you. Yes, you can be stubborn, annoying, and sometimes such a child that I want to kill you, but you're also a loving, caring, responsible, smart and such a wonderful human being you don't deserve someone treating you like that. Happy?!"

"Yes" He pulled you from your waist and joined your lips.

His flesh touching yours felt like a breath of fresh air. You couldn't fight it anymore, and as much as you wanted to deny it, you loved him, you loved him deeply.

Your hands found their place behind his neck, softly playing with his curls.

His hands traveled down from your waist to your thighs, caressing them and indulging in the warmth of your skin. He then squeezed your ass and pulled you to carry you to the sofa.

He sat on it as you straddle him. He gave one last peck to your lips and started kissing down your chin, reaching that sensitive spot on your neck right below your ear as his arms pressed you harder against his body. Making you moan at the feeling of the bulging sweats under you.

"I've missed you, don't leave me, please" He whispered softly against your skin.

His phone buzzed again inside his pocket.

"Lan, wait" You pushed his head away from your body.

"What?"

"You're with Mila"

A breathy laugh made his chest bounce.

"C'mon, we were just fooling around"

"Does she know that?"

"Now you care about her?"

"It's not her. But I can't be a hypocrite. I don't want the bad karma"

"Fine" He took the phone from his pocket and dialed. After a couple of rings, you heard that damn voice coming from the speaker.

"Baby, I've been calling you for hours, where are you? Lucia and I are waiting for you to go to the marina, I promised her we would tan on the yacht today"

"Mila, we're done"

The line went silent for a few seconds. You could almost picture the shocked face on the other side of the phone.

"What?" Her voice was a thousand octaves higher.

"What you heard. Go find someone else to leach from. See ya" He hung up with the biggest grin.

"Happy?" He said as he turned off his phone and placed it to the side.

"She's going to kill you"

"Good thing I have my own personal bodyguard" He buried his face on your chest, inhaling your scent, he had missed so much.

"Oh, now I'm your bodyguard?"

"Yup, fuck Jlo's bodyguard, now I have the hottest one"

"You're such an idiot"

"As long as I'm your idiot I don't care about anything else"

You pulled him to kiss again. His hands sneaked under the sweatshirt, caressing the soft skin inside it.

"Nice outfit by the way" Hi said against your lips.

You turned to look down at it and then realized you were wearing one of the sweatshirts you had stolen from him. You had worn it nonstop for weeks after the breakup until his scent had faded.

"I'm sorry I stole it"

"It looks way better on you"

He pulled you back to resume your makeout, as your hands played with the curls at the back of his head.

"You've been awfully quiet over here..." Ellie said out loud walking the hallway. "I just want to make sure you've not killed each oth-" She stared at the scene with a terrified look on her face.

"Please tell me you weren't having sex on the sofa"

"You're about a year too late"

"Ew, please tell me that's a lie. I really, really like that sofa and I don't want to have to burn it" She stared at you, disgust all over her face.

"He's joking" You punched his side playfully.

"Promise?" she asked

"Promise"

"Ok. And, as much as I'm happy you two are back together, please take it to the bedroom and give me five so I can be far far away before you start your unholy activities"

"Three is the most we can give you" Lando stood from the sofa carrying you.

"Two" he said kissing your neck and walking toward your bedroom.

"Nooo, c'mon, stop it" Ellie rushed to her room "Just let me get dressed and I'll be out of here, please!"

"You're mean" You smiled against his lips.

"And you're mine" Hi bit your lower lip closing your door with his foot.

"Send me a message when you're done and I can return"

"See you next week!" Lando yelled back. He returned his lips to your neck, removing the only piece of clothing covering you.

"Very funny!" Was the last thing you heard before the front door slammed.

As much as it sounded like a joke, Lando was determined to make up for lost time.

Tag List: @wtrmlnsgr94, @ricsaigaslec, @ironmaiden1313, @formulas-bitch,

[comically-callous]

Can I request headcanons for Kurt, Remy, Logan, and Wade reacting to his gender neutral crush kissing him because they're so in love with him before apologising when they realised what they just did please?

Ofc!!

X-Men with a gn!crush!Reader who suddenly kisses them 🤯🤯🤯

Includes: Remy LeBeau, Wade Wilson, Logan Howlett, and Kurt Wagner

A/n: I love them a normal amount. This took me a long time to write because tumblr kept deleting all of my work 😋😋😋 But, it’s here now. Hope you freaks annoy it. Requests are OPEN 💜

Remy:

It happens one day when you guys are in the kitchen cooking together

Remy (ever the opportunist) is helping you out by occasionally guiding your hands or gently grabbing your waist/hips whenever he moves past you. And you're definitely not complaining

Overall, the vibes are very flirtatious and cutesy, and you sort of get caught up in it.

After the food is in the oven and Remy is washing dishes, you walk over and kiss him.

Remy damn near drops the bowl he was rinsing, but he manages to keep his cool and almost immediately starts kissing you back

You're the first to pull away because it suddenly clicks for you that you're kissing your friend, so you break the kiss to start apologizing

"What you apologizing for, mon Ami?"

"I kissed you."

"And? I certainly didn't mind."

Remy has liked you for a while. That was pretty obvious to everyone. Everyone except you, since you thought he was just being flirty with you like he was with nearly everyone.

But, that's obviously not the case. He makes sure to make that very clear.

Once all of your feelings are cleared up, Remy pulls you closer to him by your hips and smirks softly. "You wanna try and kiss me again? For real this time?"

His ass did NOT finish those dishes 💀

Logan:

He comes back from a long mission, exhausted and not really in the mood for dealing with anyone

Well, that is until he sees you walking down the hallway. Then he decides he can maybe deal with one more person.

You're happy to see him back, wrapping your arms around him in a warm embrace that he didn't know he needed

"Ugh, I missed you!"

“You say that every time I come back from a mission."

"Yeah, because it's true."

He missed you too, but you don't need to know that.

You pull back from him just to lean in and kiss him.

That's probably the last thing he expected you to do. I mean, yeah he really like you, but he'd always been certain that you'd never want a guy like him.

After a moment of shock, he starts kissing you back, arms tightening around you

You pull away to ask "is this okay?" And he doesn’t even let you finish, just pulls you in for another kiss.

Sorry. He’s just wanted this for such a long time.

Wade:

He's liked you for a pretty long time. But, he knows you probably won’t like him back with how he looks. And he tells himself he’s fine with that.

But, since you two have been friends for a while, you get curious. So, you ask if you can see his face.

He agrees eventually and pulls his mask off to show you.

Normally he doesn't get so nervous to show people his real face. But, it's different with you. He doesn't think he can just laugh off your disgust.

When he pulls his mask off and your eyes widen, he immediately assumes the worst

"Yeah. Hideous, I know. Not the chiseled supermodel that I sound like under the-"

"Wade, you're like, hot."

"Excuse me?"

He can't believe it. Actually, he doesn't believe it. After you repeat yourself, he starts telling you that he doesn't need you to lie to him and that's when you cut him off with a kiss.

He pulls away immediately just because of utter shock "Woah! Cool down, hot stuff. What are you doing?"

You tell him you've always liked him, and that you still like him (maybe even like him more) now that he's shown you his face.

He's over the moon.

"Well, why didn't you tell me sooner? We could've been doing this all along!"

"Doing what?"

And then he kisses you again. Heheheheehehehe 👅👅👅

Kurt:

Kurt loves helping you with anything and everything whenever he can. It’s one of the ways he shows his appreciation for you.

So, when you receive a (very minor) injury during training, he’s at your side almost immediately

He drags you away and makes you sit down, treating your small cut as if it were a leg that had fallen off

“Don’t move, Schatz. I will be back with a first aid kit.”

“Kurt, you don’t need to-“

“Stay, please.”

So, you let him patch you up, and he does far too much for a wound that you could probably just slap a bandaid over

But, you don’t mind. You admire him as he’s crouched down to the floor, delicately treating the small cut on your knee

And then he looks up at you with those bright, yellow eyes and he smiles. And you can’t help yourself. You lean down to him and kiss him.

This poor boy is so surprised he can’t do anything. He just freezes up. So, you assume you’ve done something wrong and you pull away.

“I’m so sorry. I thought- I was just-“

“Please do that again.”

“What?”

“Please.”

And you do 🧚‍♀️