#i think he’s doing accountancy now? or coding? something like that

[blackbatcass]

sometimes the ghost of kelley puckett (he is still alive) haunts me. does he know. does he even know. he’s so detached from the comics community and he’s such a private guy (I RESPECT THAT WHOLEHEARTEDLY) that i really and truly do not know if this man knows how much cassandra cain means to us. does he know batgirl 2000 is heralded as the bible of dc solo books, as a lot of people’s favorite comic ever written. does he know how much we love cass. how we write essays over her character and how amazing she is and how she changed our lives. does he know how adored his writing is. does he know he wrote the best comics character introduction of all time. does he even. know.

[ahalliance]

how do i turn qantoine’s spontaneous marriage proposal to qetoiles into evidence of his early-days fear of qfrench drifing away and keeping secrets from one another

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ BURNER ACCOUNTS — GOJO SATORU.

contents. fem! reader, loser ex-boyfriend! satoru, exes to lovers, college! au, satoru making burners to watch your stories, miscommunications—satoru is not perfect but he’s trying okay?, gossip icons shoko & suguru <3, i had a silly idea and it turned into 2.6k words my bad

there’s a peculiar account watching your instagram stories—@user273582838, to be exact. you don’t think it’s a very well timed coincidence seeing as you and satoru have just broken up—so you decide to do some digging. 

which of course, means enlisting the help of shoko.

“i think satoru is stalking me,” you mumble, making her pause in the middle of sipping on her energy drink—for a med student, her habits don’t seem every healthy. this is her third one of the day.

“okay,” she nods, “i wouldn’t put it past him, but what makes you say that?”

“look,” you turn your phone to face her, the blank, anonymous instagram account right there on the list of users who have viewed your story. she crinkles her brows, blinking for a moment before humming.

“that definitely seems like something he’d do,” she nods—and then, “i have an idea.”

“okay,” you brighten, nodding enthusiastically, “what’s the plan?”

“try and log in with that user.”

“shoko,” you look at her like she’s grown two heads. maybe the lack of sleep is finally getting to her—no amount of energy drinks can save her at this point. “we don’t have the password—”

“—and that, dummy,” she rolls her eyes, making you scowl at the name, “is why we click forgot my password and see the last four digits of the phone number that registered the account. if it’s satoru’s number, we’ll know.”

okay—you take it back. shoko is a genius and a full-blown brilliant mastermind that you could never hope to come close to. you’re glad you chose her to help—you’re even more glad she agreed because you would not have thought of that. this is fantastic. a fool-proof plan. 

you grin wide, eyes lighting up as you gasp, “shoko! you’re so smart, that’s a great idea!”

“i know,” she grumbles, “took you long enough to notice.”

ignoring her, you quickly pull out your phone and try to log onto the account, typing user273582838 into the username box and clicking forgot my password. shoko is hovering over your shoulder, and your breath is held as you wait for the page to load and the number to pop up. within just a few seconds, the first few digits are censored with asterisks, but the last four show, and—

yeah. it’s satoru’s fucking number. just as you suspected—you and shoko scoff together at the same time, rolling your eyes. 

“well,” you look at her, lips pursed in irritation—of course, satoru refuses to give you space and leave you alone after your break up (which was his fault, might you add), “what now?”

“send the verification code to his number,” she presses, “it’ll definitely spook him when he sees.”

she’s so good at what she does, you think in awe, staring at her with heart-eyes. nodding quickly, you press send code. 

hopefully, that’ll give satoru the heart attack you want it to.

———

satoru stares at his screen in abject horror—who could be trying to log into his burner account? the only person who should possibly stumble across it is you, but surely you’re not closely inspecting your story viewers, are you? so then, who could be trying to log onto the instagram account of @user273582838?

“suguru,” he says in a trance, “are you trying to log onto the burner?”

“are you bringing that shit up again?” suguru grumbles, controller in hand as he pays attention to the screen, “i told you that was a stupid idea. a pathetic one too—”

“well, i didn’t want to keep waiting for you to send screenshots to see the stories—”

“you’re a fucking loser, do you know that? pathetic,” suguru reiterates. “move on.”

“no,” satoru hisses in disbelief, “why would i do that? now, was that you or not? you’re the only other person who knows the user.”

“as if i care to log onto your loser burner account,” suguru snorts, shaking his head in amusement. he beats satoru’s high score, turning to give him a sly grin as he adds, “i wasn’t removed, so i can view the stories all i want.”

“you’re a jerk, you know that?” satoru grunts, crossing his arms and pouting, “i’m having the worst heartbreak of my life, and you—”

“who’s fault is it that you’re dumped?”

satoru deflates. 

okay, so he supposedly hasn’t been the best boyfriend. it’s not that satoru isn’t helplessly committed to you—he’s so sickeningly obsessed with you, it’s actually a bit unhealthy. suguru says so, at least. but satoru is…well, satoru, and he doesn’t always seem to take things as seriously as most people would hope. 

evidently, that includes your relationship—though, he does insist on disagreeing on that. according to you, he doesn’t take you on dates often enough, and sometimes he flirts back with random strangers. that’s not true—he’s simply a bit of a tease and enjoys it when you’re jealous, but he doesn’t flirt back. that’s outrageous. you’ve even claimed he’s mean about it and makes a joke out of it all—satoru would never be mean on purpose; he only teases because the banter is always endearing. 

but, unfortunately, you don’t seem to see it the way he does, and now he’s woefully single and cold and alone in bed. no cuddles, no goodnight kisses, and no head scratches. 

life is so cruel sometimes. 

“suguru,” he says in distress, “i’m serious. someone’s trying to hack my burner—who could it be?”

“hmm, i don’t know…maybe the one and only person who would notice the account in the first place?”

“but why try and log in if the password is unknown?”

suguru looks at satoru like he’s stupid—apparently, he is because he’s not putting two and two together. 

“maybe because sending a verification code shows the last four digits of the registered phone number? you’ve probably been caught, you idiot.”

satoru pales at that—he didn’t think about that. it slipped his mind completely. fuck, he should’ve used a burner email instead. he stares down at his phone numbly—yeah, he thinks, he’s screwed. 

———

after two days of continuous log in attempts into satoru’s burner account—it’s only just to spook him extra—you finally decide to confront him. 

we need to talk. is all you send him. 

the three bubbles appear on his end multiple times before disappearing—you and shoko get a good cackle out of that and laugh at him for a bit before he finally answers. 

miss me already? knew it ;)

wow. what a dickhead. 

so, because you can be equally as much of a prick, you send him a screenshot of his phone number on the log in page followed by a message that says: no. it’s so you can explain this. 

the three dots show up again for a few minutes before he finally responds with: okay. you caught me. when do you wanna meet?

well, that was easy. satoru is the type to not go down without a fight no matter how cornered he is—he’s stubborn and annoying like that. you turn to shoko for help.

“meet him now,” shoko crosses her arms, “don’t give him time to come up with some ridiculous excuse.”

“what excuse could he possibly come up with?” you snort, “that he was possessed and the evil spirit in his mind made him stalk his ex like a loser?”

“true,” she concedes, taking a sip from her energy drink—seriously, how many of these does this girl drink in a day? “i just want to know what happens,” she shrugs, “so do it now.”

of course, as on brand as ever, shoko is merely in it for the drama. you roll your eyes before sighing and nodding. 

“okay,” you huff. 

meet me at my place. now.

on my way, he sends back almost instantly. 

“he’s probably just excited to see you,” shoko snorts, “like the loser he is.”

“you’re probably right,” you purse your lips in exasperation. in all your time knowing him, you’ve definitely realized that satoru is definitely…well, a case. 

———

“hey,” shoko whispers to suguru through the phone, walking out your door so you can prepare to confront satoru. “did you know satoru’s been stalking—”

“—on a burner account? yeah, i know.”

okay, she frowns to herself, that was no fun at all. suguru is already aware of the drama. but that’s no matter—surely, he can’t possibly already know that satoru has been invited over to be scolded. 

“yeah, well,” she says smugly, “did you know he’s actually on his way over to—”

“—get yelled at? yeah, i’m aware. he called me panicked. what a fucking loser.”

“okay, well since you’re up to speed,” shoko grumbles bitterly, rolling her eyes. she was supposed to be the knight in shining armor with the juicy updates—but evidently, satoru is pathetic enough to already cry to suguru about his dilemma. “wanna meet up and get sushi nearby? i bet they’ll get back together in twenty minutes.”

“i bet ten. loser pays for the food?”

“you’ve got yourself a deal.”

———

satoru sits on your couch in shame, bouncing his leg nervously as you sit on the opposite end with your arms crossed and brow raised. 

it’s quiet. he doesn’t have the guts to say anything, waiting for you to break the silence. maybe you’re not that mad.

“so,” you start, “it’s nice to finally meet you, user273582838.”

he rubs his neck awkwardly, chuckling through his nerves as he mumbles, “oh, hey there! it’s a small world, huh?”

“satoru.”

yeah, never mind. you seem pretty mad. 

“okay, look,” he begins, “you can’t blame me. you dumped me, your sweet, loving, and unsuspecting boyfriend out of nowhere! i was heartbroken and shattered—and then you didn’t even give me a chance to work it out! i was not in the right headspace to make wise decisions so…so this is basically not my fault.”

that doesn’t seem to help his case—in fact, it only makes it worse. 

“so it’s my fault?”

“wha—no!” he says quickly, “no, definitely not.”

you sigh, rubbing your forehead in defeat as you mumble, “satoru, we are broken up for a reason. you can’t overstep and—”

“it’s a pretty stupid reason,” he grumbles under his breath, crossing his arms and frowning. you glare at him from the side as you scoff in disbelief. 

“of course,” you chuckle dryly, “of course you would say that. nothing is ever serious enough to you—”

“it’s pretty fucking serious to me,” he spits, shooting you a look that tells you he’s just as shocked as you, “that’s obviously why i’m the one who’s still not moved on as easily as you. how seriously did you really take it?”

“that’s not fair,” you grit, “you made it abundantly clear you didn’t care enough, so why should i—”

“i fucking cared a shit ton,” he says incredulously, “that’s bullshit, and you know it—”

“don’t curse at me, satoru—”

“well, don’t accuse me of not caring when i clearly—”

“oh, yeah cause you cared so much when you were laughing with that waitress as she hit on you,” you seethe, throwing a pillow from your couch at him. he can catch it easily—you know this for sure, but he lets it hit him out of what you’re sure is at least a little consideration to your feelings. 

“i wasn’t laughing because i enjoyed it,” he crinkles his brows as if you’ve said the most ridiculous thing ever, “it was just funny because she was trying so hard. and you looked all cute when you got mad.”

“what kind of boyfriend enjoys watching his girlfriend get mad—”

“the kind of boyfriend who thinks his girlfriend is adorable when she’s mad—”

“yeah, well your idea of a date is going to the mall with shoko and suguru. what kind of date is that—”

“okay, i was a bit clueless sometimes, but you could’ve said something instead of just dumping me like i was some random guy in your dm’s—”

“you need to grow the fuck up, satoru—”

“now look at who's cursing!”

it’s silent—both you and him have your arms crossed and lips curled into scowls as you both glare at each other. you’re stubbornly convinced satoru doesn’t care as much as you do, and he’s firmly committed to the idea that you’re twisting him into some douche who doesn’t give two shits. 

it’s quiet like that for a bit before he deflates and slumps against the couch, rubbing his face as he groans. 

“look,” he starts, “i’m sorry. i never meant to make it seem like i enjoy attention from other girls, and i didn’t realize you wanted more dates. i’d have done things differently if you told me how you felt.”

he sounds sincere. and he’s looking at you with those eyes of his—god, those stupid little eyes that are so wide and blue and deep and full of love. even after that whole argument, satoru is clearly as painfully in love as ever. 

you sigh before playing with a loose thread on your sweatpants. 

“i…guess i could’ve talked it out first. i probably shouldn’t have skipped straight to breaking up,” you mutter, not meeting his eyes. 

satoru stares glumly at you from the corner of his eyes before he adds bitterly, “you don’t seem to miss me. not even a little.”

“toru,” you pinch your nose, “of course i miss you. i was not gonna be mopey on instagram, though—”

“doesn’t seem like it,” he huffs. he’s a bit hurt—you can tell because he’s not meeting your eyes, and he’s not got that playful little upward curl of his lips. 

you’re a bit weak, you realize—but you suppose you always have been for satoru, because you’re shuffling to his end of the couch and poking his cheek gently. 

“i miss you tons, y’know,” you murmur—you smile a little at his pout before adding, “i want more dates this time around. and stop letting girls get away with being shameless flirts.”

he finally meets your eyes—it’s like a child on christmas, the way his face lights up and his lips curl into an excited grin.

“you mean i get to be your boyfriend again?”

it’s cute—the way he asks to be your boyfriend and not if you’ll be his girlfriend. maybe you’ve been a bit unfair, maybe satoru has always cared deeply in his dumb little clueless way of his own. 

“fine,” you pretend to roll your eyes. he looks hopelessly excited as he wraps an arm around you and pulls you into his side, tucking you under his chin as he rests his cheek on your head. 

“you should really talk to me more,” he murmurs, “i’m…things fly over my head sometimes. i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry too,” you admit, “i’ll talk to you—but you better listen to me if i do. don’t turn it into jokes.”

“i never turn things into jokes,” he grumbles petulantly, huffing to the side as you shoot him an unimpressed raise of your brow. “does this mean i can follow you again?”

“yes,” you snort.

“and you’ll follow back, right?”

“yes, satoru,” you sigh, shaking your head in amusement. he’s already back to being a handful—but you can admit you might have missed it just a bit. “but for the love of god, please delete that burner.”

“fine,” he pouts, tugging you closer. 

you giggle, he grins, and then you’re kissing—and everything feels as it should be. 

———

“they’re back together,” shoko says in disbelief, staring at your text. suguru groans, pausing mid bite as he rubs over his forehead in defeat. 

of course, you and satoru just have to make up in exactly fifteen minutes. not ten. not twenty. exactly fifteen. 

how considerate of you both. 

“are you kidding?” suguru grumbles, “so neither of us win.”

“guess not,” she says sourly, rolling her eyes. 

woefully, they both agree to split the check. 

suguru and shoko are so me and my friend every time our other friend argues with her boyfriend we deadass be making bets over when they make up and loser has to pay for boba LMAO

[oaksgrove]

Strict Schedules, Except…

pairing: John Price x Reader 

synopsis: You live by your meticulously planned schedule—every moment accounted for, color-coded, and efficiently executed. The team loves to tease you for it, but Price? He notices the one exception—the unmovable, sacred block of time you always reserve for them. When the teasing turns to something softer, something warmer, you begin to realize that maybe, just maybe, the best moments in life aren’t the ones you plan.

warnings: Soft romance, teasing/bickering, mutual pining, found family fluff, longing glances, subtle tension.

word count: 794 

There were a few universal truths in Task Force 141:

Soap would always have the last word in an argument (whether he was right or not).

Ghost had perfected the art of appearing and disappearing at will.

And you? You lived by your schedule.

Your planner was legendary—color-coded, neatly sectioned, and organized to the minute. Post-it flags marked priorities, alarms reminded you of hydration breaks, and the team swore you had meal prep down to a military operation.

They found it impressive. They also found it hilarious.

“You’re worse than a drill sergeant, lass,” Soap teased one morning over breakfast, watching you flip through the pages of your planner like it held national secrets.

Ghost, seated next to him, nodded solemnly. “Probably got her sleep schedule penciled in, too.”

“I do, actually,” you replied smoothly, not bothering to look up.

Soap let out a wheeze. “No way.”

Gaz smirked from across the table. “Bet you’ve got a section for breathing breaks.”

You finally glanced up, expression deadpan. “Every 2.3 seconds.”

Price, quietly sipping his tea at the head of the table, didn’t say a word. He only watched, eyes warm with amusement.

The teasing continued throughout the day.

When Ghost caught you meticulously cleaning your boots between briefings, he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. “This part of the sacred schedule?”

“Could be,” you mused, not missing a beat. “But I’d have to check my notes to be sure.”

Gaz, passing by, let out a laugh. “Come on, even Price isn’t this organized.”

The captain—previously minding his own business—arched a brow. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“That you don’t write ‘clean rifle at 1900 hours’ in a bloody planner,” Soap quipped.

Price simply smirked, shaking his head.

Everyone laughed. Except Price. Because Price wasn’t just laughing at your habits—he was watching. Observing.

Because unlike the rest of them, he’d noticed something they hadn’t.

That night, the teasing took an unexpected turn.

Movie nights weren’t planned. Not really. Someone would throw out a title, and somehow, everyone showed up.

It wasn’t mandatory. It wasn’t a mission.

And yet, you were always there.

No matter what was on your schedule, no matter how rigid your day had been, this time never changed.

No matter how rigid your schedule, you always carved out time for the team.

As Soap dropped onto the couch, popcorn in hand, he grinned at you. “Let me guess—blocked this off in the planner, too?”

“Something like that,” you admitted, shrugging. But this time, the faintest flush touched your cheeks.

Gaz hummed, eyeing you with mock suspicion. “I’m starting to think this is the exception to your precious schedule.”

Before you could retort, Price spoke.

“Of course it is.”

The room fell silent.

All eyes turned to him, Soap’s brows shooting up. “What, Cap’s defending the schedule now?”

Price didn’t look at him. He looked at you. A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“It’s not about the schedule. It’s about the people.”

You gave Price a soft smile in return. The warmth in his voice settled into your chest like an ember, burning slow and steady.

Your breath hitched.

“Right,” Soap said after a beat, his voice lighter. “Well, if we’re that important, maybe someone could schedule popcorn refills next time?”

The room erupted into laughter, but the warmth Price had left in the air remained.

Soap, caught off guard, whispered to Gaz. “Did Cap just get all sentimental on us?”

“I think he did,” Gaz muttered dramatically.

But the teasing barely registered. Because Price’s gaze hadn’t wavered.

Not from you.

As the movie started, the moment seemed to pass. The team got lost in the film, laughter and commentary filling the air.

But you felt it.

The shift.

Price leaned closer. Not overtly—just enough that his shoulder pressed against yours, solid and warm.

It felt deliberate.

And when he spoke—low, just for you—you knew it was.

“For what it’s worth,” he murmured, voice thick with something unreadable, “I’m glad we made the cut.”

Your pulse skipped.

You turned slightly, meeting his gaze in the dim glow of the TV. There was something there. Something unspoken.

You swallowed, lips parting—but no words came.

You didn’t need them.

Instead, you leaned back against the couch, heart pounding just a little harder than before.

“I wouldn’t miss it.” your voice quieter than intended.

Price’s lips curved.

And for the rest of the night, he didn’t move.

Neither did you.

When the credits rolled, you glanced at your watch, half out of habit, and Price leaned in, his breath warm against your ear.

“Got somewhere to be?” he teased, his voice full of fondness.

You smiled and shook your head. “Not tonight.”

And for once, your schedule didn’t matter.

taglist: @honestlymassivetrash

[lovscb97]

— nerd!chan drabble #1

part 1 / part 2 / headcannons

synopsis: the aftermath of what happens between you and nerd!chan following the events that take place in part 2

tags: nerd!chan x cheerleader!fem!reader, established relationship, lots of fluff, lots of kissing, nerd!chan being a cutie, oral sex (f. recieving), unprotected sex (plz do not), basic lovemaking, aftercare, etc

wc: 1.70k

add. notes: idk why i wrote this n how tf it got so long. those pictures (i cannot upload them rn idfk why. if they r uploaded by the time u r reading this then good for us if not then i'll kms) seriously did a number on me i think tho bcs holy fucking shit man he looks so good. like i adore this man to death n beyond GRRR!!! anyways enjoy :3

. . .

saw chan's latest post and now i can't stop thinking about how the pictures are extremely nerd!chan universe's bangchan coded.. specifically, they're the type of photos chan would post the day you guys finally get together, on the first day he gets to call himself your boyfriend at last.

he's long dropped you off at home and is still reeling from the excitement of everything that's happened after the game, not to mention that he was so giddy to the point he ended up texting all his friends about everything that happened, making sure to repeat how he finally, finally!!! got the girl of his dreams at last. his joy is to the extent that when he gets home, he can't stop thinking about you, thinking about how you sounded and felt, thinking about the way you'd straddled his lap in his beat up car, thinking about how you'd kissed him breathless, just thinking about you.

when he's in the safety of his room behind locked doors, he positively melts against the wall, crumbling to his feet with a lovestruck grin on his face as he repeats everything that went down an hour prior and quite literally changed the trajectory of his entire life if he's being honest. when his phone pings with a message, he's immediately shooting to swipe for his texts, giggling at the sweet messages you've sent him to remind him once more that you love him and can't wait to see him tomorrow. he'd reply back with a goofy smile and kick his feet, of course, before impulsively making the executive decision to once again, stalk your instagram.

when he pulls up your account, his heart clenches against his chest, because there you are, plastered all over the feed with your beautiful features that he's fallen for over the last few months. the way your hair cascades over your shoulders, how your face is lit up and beaming in every post he looks through, your uniform or even casual clothes clinging to your body perfectly in specific uploads— everything about the way you are makes him feel dizzy in the head. he genuinely can't fathom the fact that you're all his starting today and onwards.

the next day when he sees you, he thinks he might ascend onto a different dimension. he's all dazed and in awe when he approaches you, softening at the way your eyes brighten after falling on his figure, watching with honey dripping as you parade up to and crash into him with your arms wrapping around his waist on instinct, no less in public. when he hugs you back, he can smell the familiar scent of your perfume and shampoo mixed together, burying his face in an effort to cling onto you like he's often dreamed of. though he's a bit pouty when you eventually pull away, he thinks you you make up for it by leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his cheek and grabbing his hand to drag him away for a late lunch date.

the hours pass with you and him spending as much time as you can together to make up for however much you'd lost avoiding each other and sneaking around in private previously. chan does his best to pay attention to what you're rambling on too, something about your professor marking you down for a test when you'd answered correctly, but he truly can't seem to focus with the way he's so down bad for you. everything you do, everything you say, everything you are in general makes him want to swoop in and kiss you silly.

so, he does.

it catches you off guard when he leans over the table you're both sat at and connects your lips together, but you're no stranger to his affection (okay, maybe you are a little), so of course, you kiss him back, giggling against his mouth with him. he thinks your laughter might be his favourite sound in the world.

as the sky turns to orange with the sun dipping down, chan allows you to tug him around campus, going with you to the library to pick up a book you needed for your class and accompanying you to the university cafe where he insists on paying for your drink. you both eventually end up back in your dorm, with you letting it slip mid-conversation that karina would be at her parent's house today. the seemingly little tidbit makes him freeze in his place, but he brushes off the lewd thoughts entering his mind in favour of continuing the impromptu and innocent study session you decide to hold in the middle of your side of the room. he tries, he really does, to concentrate on the material he should ideally be preparing for his next exam, but you look so cute focused on the text you're busy highlighting that he can't resist reaching over to graze his thumb over your palm softly. you look up at the sensation of his touch, cheeks tinting pink at the way your boyfriend is staring back at you.

and so, it doesn't take very long for the two of you to get back into locking lips once more, chan hovering over your sprawled out body as his mouth ghosts the skin of your jaw, neck, collarbone, shoulder, everywhere. you swear he's gotten more bold ever since you started dating, but one glance at the burning red of his ears is enough to make you chuckle. when he asks you what's so funny, you simply shake your head, wrapping your arms around his neck to yank him in for another kiss that leaves both of you practically levitating.

chan makes quick work to have you cumming on his face after that, languid swipes of his tongue flicking against your clit and swirling at your entrance as you let out the cutest whimpers he's possibly ever heard. when his wet muscles wraps around your sensitive nub and sucks, you see stars, clenching around nothing with your juices gushing down his chin as you spray everywhere. when your boyfriend rises to meet your gaze, glasses fogged up and stained with your release, looking like he'd descended from heaven itself, you can't stop the meek "need you inside, please" that leaves you from escaping. it makes his eyes widen, but he's stripping off his clothes in record time at your plea, causing you to laugh quietly in the darkness of the room, save for whatever light is streaming through the curtains.

when chan finally does enter you, despite having done so multiple times, you gasp. you still get butterflies from the feeling of his cock stretching you out, and he still can't shake off how his stomach swirls in delight at the way your warm walls basically suck him in. he moves slowly but surely, deep thrusts hitting every right spot that has you keening and shaking under his hold. his words are barely above whispers, filled with nothing but loving remarks and reminders of how much he adores you and can't believe you're his. he babbles about how lucky he is to be yours, and how he's never going to let you go, to which you breathlessly huff out something about how you'd never want to go anywhere anyways. that sentence coupled with the way your doe eyes blink up at him is enough to send him hurdling to his climax, triggering your own. you both lay there in the comfort of each other's arms for a while after that, snuggling into one another's skin and exchanging short kisses.

it's only after a few moments pass that chan gets up to clean you off, tugging his clothes back on along with the glasses he'd tossed on your bedside table before wiping you down with a wet cloth. the way you look at him as he tends to your needs makes him flush bright under your gaze, which only has you tittering and sitting up to kiss him once more.

by the time everything's done and he has to go home, chan lights up with an idea, lacing your fingers in his and rushing you outside the doors of the student accomodation. he flashes you a grin that makes you weak in the knees, ruffling his hair to slide his hat on before passing you his phone and posing for the camera. you're confused what this has to do with anything, but you click the pictures for him anyways, heart fluttering at the way he beams at the lens, or rather at the fact that you're the one behind it. when you're done, he thanks you with a smooch to your forehead, shrugging off his jacket to wrap it around your frame despite it being one too many sizes big for you. he buttons you up to the end, throwing his head back at the way you look so tiny compared to the clothing you've got on, which only makes you roll your eyes regardless of the smile that creeps up on your face at his joy.

it's only when you've said your goodbye's and shared a last few kisses of the day that you find yourself back in bed, wrapped up under chan's clothes and inhaling the scent of his cologne that brings back memories of today. when you open your phone, you're hit with his notification in an instant, eyebrows furrowing in confusion when you read him asking you to check his instagram but doing so anyways. you think your heart stops when you see what he's referring to.

chan had tagged you in the photos you'd taken a few minutes prior to seeing him off, but not just that, he'd captioned it too—

@.gnabnahc: thank you for being mine, pretty girl.

hot infatuation floods your system at the words he'd used, and for some reason, it dawns on you now of all times that chan is yours. he's yours. all yours. you can't stop the smile that graces your features at that realisation, replying back to him with something cheesy. safe to say, you drift to sleep that night with thoughts filled of your precious boyfriend.

in conclusion, chan may be smitten, but you're just as bad as him, it seems.

. . .

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

[luveline]

𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

you and miguel have different definitions of the same word. he finally gives in to temptation —featuring a cranky but lovesick miguel and a flirty, head-in-the-clouds spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. requested here. fem!reader, 3k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

This has to be your favourite song in the whole world. 

You sit in the hall beside the entrance to Miguel's office (this week, you're thinking you might call it The Bedroom, on account of all the magic happening inside), headphones on, a bottle of lemonade beside you. 

Today has the makings of a great day. You're at the Spider Society headquarters and not at home, for starters, and one of the Peter Parkers you'd made friends with in the med-wing saw you this morning and recognised you, which is brilliant because he looked super similar to every other Peter Parker you've met. He offered to help you fix your rinky-dink headphones, and now they're working again and loud enough to cover the sound of Spider Chatter, even with your enhanced senses. 

What's more, Miguel has finally emerged from his dormitory, and he's walking toward you looking confused. That's a step up from unhappy. 

He asks you something. 

"What? I can't hear you." 

He says something else. You shake your head, music too loud to catch even a hint of what he's saying, and Miguel eventually crouches down to push your headphones around your neck. He's surprisingly gentle. 

"What are you doing?" he asks. 

"Waiting for you, what did you think I was doing?" 

"Why are you sitting on the ground?" He gestures backward to a red-lit control panel. "Chair right there." 

"I think that's someone's desk." 

"It's really not." 

Miguel stands up and doesn't hesitate to grab your arms and help you up too. It means more to you than it should, because it's not necessary and a few months ago he wouldn't have bothered. Which isn't to imply that Miguel is a mean guy, Lyla says he used to be a loser (code for sweetheart), and you get flashes of it every now and then in chivalry and kind smiles. 

He's not mean, he's cranky. 

"Don't sit on the floor," he says. "Just– just go inside if I'm not here." 

"Well, The Bedroom doesn't come when I call." 

Miguel's lips part in confusion for a second. Lyla appears at his shoulder, and says, "She can't get the platform to come down without you, genius." 

"Put her name on the command list," Miguel says. 

Your eyes widen. Lyla flashes to his other side, closer to you, and smiles playfully. "Done." 

"Stop sitting on the floor," Miguel says, turning around. He walks a few steps and pauses when he realises you're not following. "Are you coming with me?" 

You jog to catch up with him. Music plays against your collar, a slinking, indie sound that makes Miguel wrinkle his nose. You turn it up a little bit and smile when he glares at you. 

You enter the atrium that houses The Bedroom. Miguel hops up onto the platform because he's too tall to see sense while you struggle, but you're pleased when he takes your hand and pulls you up properly. All these familiar touches today, anyone might think Miguel liked you. 

He definitely does. 

You sit down in the spinning chair near what you've decided is your desk but certainly isn't, again pleased beyond words when you find your sketchbook from last time still there, cleaned away carefully, pencils in a pot and a brand new pencil sharpener by the side of it. It matches your spider suit. You look over your shoulder, your face lit up with thanks, and Miguel swiftly looks away from you. 

"It's electric. Tell me when the battery's dead, I'll charge it." 

"Thank you," you say, flipping your sketchbook open to the last entry. 

You aren't Picasso, but most members of the Spider Society are somewhat artistically inclined, considering the suit-making rite of passage they must all endure —if you don't know how to sew before you start, you will by the end. 

Or like Miguel, you could cheat and make the suit out of nanotechnology. 

You haven't really been designing any suits lately. Spidering is tiring, you need to relax, and your reluctant friends are the easiest subjects, though Miguel's face is painstakingly difficult to get right. He's very angular, high cheekbones with that divot that needs kissing stat, and his nose… He's really pretty, but you almost wish he wasn't so your sketches of him held a better likeness. 

He's the only one of the regular crew that stands still long enough to be drawn. Jessica doesn't like you (or maybe she does, it's hard to tell, but she hasn't forgiven you for asking if her baby was like a maraca bead when she fights) so she doesn't let you draw her. Lyla will stand very still if you request it, but after a few portraits she got bored and started changing her hair or glasses, and after a few more she gave up. Margo is hard to focus on because her blue light makes everything else seem super orange, though she does stand in one place usually. She takes up a lot of pages, but it's Miguel you've drawn most of all. 

You go around the Spider Society sometimes asking people if they'll sit for you, but again your skills aren't impressive, so it's awkward when they want to see how you've done. There are drawings of all kinds of Spiders, including yourself, between Miguel, and Miguel, and Miguel. 

His back, the side of his face, his hands ungloved. His pointy bottom teeth mid fight. The naked stretch of his arm and his Rapture injector positioned over it. He might not appreciate that one. You rip it out and toss it in the waste paper basket under your desk, where it incinerates, paper smoke curling up toward the extractor fan on the atrium ceiling. 

"What are you doing?" he asks without looking at you, his gaze on one of his marigold coloured monitors. 

"Drawing." You're not drawing so much as sitting there with a coloured pencil in hand, trying to think of conversation starters. "What are you upto?" 

"According to the program, there are no Canon events today at risk of disruption," Lyla chimes in, "so Miguel's doing chores." 

"What, not one bad thing is gonna happen today?" you ask. 

"Nothing we can predict," Miguel says. 

You swap your pencil for your drink, unscrewing the lid of your lemonade to sip at it leisurely. Today is your favourite kind of day. No fighting, lots of time with Miguel, and music to go with it. You're so happy you could melt. 

Miguel turns to you and sees your stickying smile. 

"What?" 

"Nothing. Just happy to be here with you," you say.

"Don't say stuff like that," he says, turning back to his screen. 

"Scared you'll actually experience sincerity?" Lyla asks. 

"Lyla," he warns, as though Lyla might be afraid of any consequence he had the power to inflict. 

"Sorry," you say, not very sorry, but not wanting him to be uncomfortable, "it's just nice, being friends with you."

"We aren't friends." 

You're not quick to take offence with Miguel. He can be cruel. He's hurting, he's unhappy, he has a lot on his plate. Oftentimes he's so tense with apprehension his neck locks up and you hear it clicking as he turns one way or another, or if he isn't apprehensive he's disappointed, furious, upset. You give him the benefit of the doubt because you know him, but you don't know the tone of voice he uses now. It's like he's offended at the insinuation. Like he would never, ever be friends with you. 

You put your lemonade on the desk and don't know what to do. His insipid floating platform is too high now to leave without causing a scene. Maybe when he's busy you can web down and go home. All you know is that you desperately don't want to be near him. But home sucks, and the dormitories are worse. You're stuck. 

"You can be so mean," you say softly, turning back to your sketchbook and pencils. 

You're thinking you might draw him with a bunch of bee stings, or find a previous sketch and cross his eyes out.

"What?" he asks. 

Your hackles rise. "You're mean. Don't talk to me." 

"What?" Miguel stands very still. "Y/N, what?" 

"What do you mean, what? I said something nice and you said something cruel. I get it, okay, we aren't friends, so don't talk to me." 

"I've upset you." 

You stare at your blank page. "It doesn't matter." 

"No, I've said the wrong thing." 

"Miguel, don't bother. What else could you mean by that?" You laugh with little humour. Crestfallen doesn't begin to describe how you feel. "I'll be quiet. I just don't want to be at home." 

"What's wrong with home?" 

"Is there ever much right?" 

"Did something happen?"

"We aren't friends, so why ask me?" 

You bite the inside of your lip as Miguel approaches, his footfall hushed over the lightweight metal flooring. You turn to him in your chair, head tilted back to meet his eyes, arms crossed over your stomach defensively. 

"That's not what I meant when I said that." He speaks slowly, firmly, to avoid any misunderstanding. "What's wrong with home, mi cielo?" 

You tap his ankle with your shoe, looking away from his gaze. You don't want to tell him, and if he keeps looking at you like that, you will.

"¿Qué pasó?" He bends at the waist slightly, bringing his face closer to yours, dark hair falling into his eyes.

"I don't know what that means," you murmur.

"Did something happen?" he asks.

"Nothing happened, it's just– it's lonely there," you say, squirming under the weight of his gaze, his sudden caring. "What's with you? One minute you're not my friend, the next you're worrying about me? You're giving me whiplash." 

He stands up, and his face falls back into a more typical emotionlessness. He's clearly feeling something, but he's wiping the slate clean. 

"When I said we aren't friends, it didn't mean–" He grunts, crossing his arms over his chest. "I thought you were staying in the women's dormitory?" he asks, frustrated.  

"I am, but I'm useless, and they don't really respect me because I'm–" 

"Eccentric?" 

"–not as experienced," you finish, eyes flaring. 

"Oh, my god," Lyla says, appearing in front of him to make sure he sees her delight at his slip up. 

Miguel bats her hologram with an annoyed grunt. She disappears again, her tinkling laughter cut short.

"It's a good thing," Miguel says quickly.

You stand up. "It's not the point." 

"You should feel at home in the dormitory, and if you don't, I'll find you somewhere else to stay here, you don't have to be in there if you don't feel welcome."

"Miguel, you're sounding awfully friendly right now." 

"We aren't friends," he says again, stepping closer to you. "What's so hard to understand about that?" 

"But we spend time together. We have fun. You like me, Miguel, you do, you tell me jokes sometimes, you make me things for me. You… you do like me, right?" 

"You know that I do," he says, his eyebrows pinching together. 

"You like me, like, you want me," you say, just to make sure.

His fist clenches hard enough to make an audible sound. Miguel's voice is fraught, and through barely parted lips, "If you know that, what's the problem?" 

You don't know. Maybe it was silly to worry about how he sees you, because you do know that Miguel likes you, but you also know he hadn't wanted to like you. His attraction to you was reluctant, you're not stupid enough to miss that, and it was important to you that whatever tension sexual or otherwise lingering between you had bloomed into mutual affection. 

"I want us to be friends, too," you say. 

"I thought we were more than that." 

It's such a quiet admission. He isn't afraid to say it, and he isn't reluctant like you feared. 

"Miguel," you say. "I want you to like me. I know I can be off-putting, I know I tease too much, but I don't want you to like me despite those things, I just want you to like me. So, when you say we aren't friends…" 

"I've never heard you say three serious sentences in a row," Miguel says, reaching out for your hand. He pulls you toward him slowly, his fingertips gliding up the length of your arm. "Then again, it's the same nonsense as usual." 

"Miguel–" 

"Of course I like you. How else do you need me to say it? I like you and I want to kiss you, I like you and I like that you're irregular. You want us to be friends? Then let's be friends." Miguel's hand closes around your bicep. His thumb presses against soft fat and muscle alike. "But not just friends." 

Relieved, you sigh. "So you're saying we really weren't friends?" 

Miguel leans down until his face is the only thing you can see. His smooth skin, his dark eyes, their darker flush of too-long lashes; it's unfair how pretty his eyelashes are, how they curl, how they bunch in triangles you have to fight to resist touching. His eyebrows so often slightly set, giving him an unhappy expression even now. 

He brings the hand that isn't clasped at your bicep to the hill of your waist. It's hot as a brand, and it pulls you closer, your neck craning with every inch he steals from between you. 

"We can be friends," he says. 

His fingers twitch against your arm, and his hand begins to climb. It's not as slow as it feels, conquering the curve of your shoulder, your neck. His hand is big, his thumb pressing into the column of your throat gently.

He looks at you for a measured lapse of time, and you know, finally, that you're on the same page. 

"What you said before, 'mi cielo?'" You hold his elbow. "What does that mean?" 

"My sky," he says. "My… my heavens. It's saccharine. It's something teenagers say, when they're," —his voice dips, the hand at your waist squeezing tight like you might slip through his hold—  "infatuated." 

"Just teenagers say that?" you ask.

"No," he allows. "I always thought it was too much." 

"But you–" 

"Yeah. I did." 

The first kiss is surprisingly sweet. On the tail end of words, Miguel presses his lips half-parted to yours, slowly, softly, like the brush of a downy feather. He lingers, and it's your own movement that spurs him on —you shudder up into his lips and he loses control. 

The sound he makes is a shock. You try to pull back to check he isn't hurting, and he lets you until he realises why it is you're pulling away. "It's fine, it's okay," he says quickly. 

Assuaged of your concern, he pulls you back in and he kisses you, he kisses you, his hand squeezing too tight and his nose bridge sliding up against yours from the force of it all. Your chest feels like a pit and you need Miguel closer if you're ever going to fill it, your hands snapping up to his face like magnets. There's no need to pull him down to you, he's already wading in, not wading —crashing, kissing you so hard your lips burn. 

You make a sound that says, hopefully, This is really fun, but don't give me a bruise.

His tongue is a heat at the seam of your lips. Your weight bends, your chest leaning into his front. He doesn't hesitate to ease his hand behind your back and prop you up against him as things get heady, and the only thing you can feel is him. 

All those times he almost kissed you, all those times he couldn't cross the gap. He poked and prodded and provoked you into getting into his space and each time you called his bluff. You wanted Miguel to give in, and now he has, it's the meltiest, most stickying warmth you've ever felt. 

Voices sound far away, off the platform and down the hall. Jessica and someone else, approaching fast. 

Something sharp snags your bottom lip as Miguel pulls away. You press your finger to your sore lip. When you pull it away, blood spots your skin. 

Miguel takes your face into his hand and angles your face to a glowing screen carefully, in total juxtaposition of the grip he'd had on your waist. 

"Sorry," he mumbles, the tip of his fangs catching the light. His adrenaline must be high. 

"Excited?" you ask him breathily. 

He wipes your lip with his thumb. The other hand pet's your cheek. You feel suddenly and smotheringly adored, all his attention on your pinprick wound. 

"Everything okay up there?" Jessica calls. 

Miguel drops your face like he's remembered himself. You turn to your newfound company, Jessica Drew and an unhappy looking Gwen Stacy. This high up, there's no way they can see the state of either of you, mussed hair and Miguel's blushy cheeks, but they'll see you eventually. And Miguel might like you, might want you, might be your more-than-friend, but he's a stickler for appearances, and being found kissing your subordinate dizzy when you're supposed to be working would mortify him.

"I cut my lip on a lemonade bottle," you call cheerily, waving at grumpy Gwen. Her lips perk up. "Miguel's trying to tell me it's my fault. Is lemonade usually sharp?" 

His hand flattens subtly at the small of your pack. 

"Thanks," he murmurs. 

"Welcome, handsome. Is it bad?" you ask, turning back to hip with your lip pouted. 

His eyes visibly soften at the sight of you. "Not that bad." 

"Alright, good. You'll have to let the platform down, I need to go." 

"What? Where are you going?" he asks. 

"If we're friends now," you say, lilting, performing a half spin in front of him just to watch his eyes narrow, "I'm going to have to make us bracelets. Friendship bracelets." He clearly doesn't like the idea of being friends still, so you amend with a softer tone, "Friends and whatever that was. Come on, you'll love it. I'll make it match your suit." 

He rubs the space between his eyebrows. 

"Will you bring your stuff here?" he asks, the platform beginning to lower under your feet. 

"Duh. I need to take lots of measurements. I'll be in your hair all day, you'll hate it." 

He nods like he agrees. "I'll hate it," he says, deadpan. When he's sure Jessica and Gwen aren't looking, he gives you a smile you've never seen before. 

You and I have a secret, it says. 

Lyla appears by your shoulder to instantly tell him otherwise. It goes without saying that she's mildly disgusted and extremely smug. "Don't match it to his suit, Y/N. Mr. Heartthrob here needs something soft. How about some baby pinks, hm?" 

Miguel sighs, but you barely hear him over your excited gasp. "Yes! Pink and white, for sure, that would be so nice." 

"Great," Miguel says. "Perfect. Thanks for that, Lyla."

"You're so welcome!" 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed :D please reblog if you have the time ♡

[puck-luck]

code-breaker | jack hughes

warnings: pining!, unprotected p in v, lots of miscommunication but it is resolved duh, lmao uhhhhh jack fucking his best friend's sister maybe? kind of a big plot point fasho, a lame excuse for a squirt, cum on da body (chest), eating come, lots of banter, tiny TINY bit of angst and insecurity on fem!reader's part pairing: jack hughes x zegras!reader request: cappy's "sister of the best friend, lake house, etc. sister makes the first move and the guy tries to turn her down out of loyalty to the other boy and she gets a little hurt and insecure thinking he's rejecting her and she's like "am i really that bad?" with her voice craking and he's like fuck then... smut!" wc: 4327

Jack is here. 

Jack, who you’ve been in love with since your twin brother started hanging out with him when they were in NTDP together. Jack, the New Jersey Devils’ prized star, the number one pick. Jack, the most annoying and most attractive brother of the esteemed Hughes family from Michigan. Yes, that Jack is here– ‘here’ being your apartment that you share with your brother in Anaheim now that Jamie has moved out and away.

Jack is here. You are here. Trevor is not.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” you tell him awkwardly, still holding the door open and blocking the doorway. You’re all too aware of your lazy, solo-movie-night outfit as you stand in front of him. You’re clad only in a big shirt, one that normally reaches the middle of your thighs but has ridden up since your hands are raised and resting against the doorframe, and your favorite pair of panties. You did laundry earlier and showered, your big exciting thing of the day being that you could but on your favorite underwear and be lazy as soon as you finished the chore of folding your clothes. “Trevor’s in New York right now.”

“I know,” Jack says, a hand on his suitcase. The other is clenched by his side. “I have a meeting in LA tomorrow so he said I could stay here while he was gone.”

“Oh,” you reply, feeling silly. It would’ve been nice if your brother had told you that Jack was coming and staying here while he was gone, considering you’d made plans to be alone all night tonight. Trevor always does shit like this– he makes plans and then forgets to tell you until someone shows up or he has to leave to meet them. It’s frustrating. “Come on in, then.”

You move to the side, gesturing for Jack to enter the apartment, and he does. His suitcase rolls in behind him, just a little carry on, and he leaves it beside the door where he kicks off his shoes. 

Your hands make their way to the hem of your t-shirt, tugging at it. “I’ll, uh, go change into something more–”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Jack interrupts, waving you off. He clears his throat. “You don’t have to change on my account. I’m interrupting your night of–” 

He looks to the couch and the coffee table, littered with a bowl of popcorn and a bottle of wine that you had been drinking out of, straight from the spout. Your movie is paused on the screen, a silly Disney Channel movie that had come out when you and Trevor were children and still hadn’t lost its touch yet. You’re hoping that Jack doesn’t recognize the screencap, but Mel’s Lemonade machine fills the screen and if he’s seen Lemonade Mouth at all, he’ll know what movie you’re watching.

“Disney Channel and wine,” Jack finishes, pinching his lips to hide the amusement in his voice.

You frown, even though you want to burst into laughter with him. It is silly, what you’re doing, but you were supposed to be alone and who are you to be ashamed of your guilty pleasures?

“Don’t make fun,” you admonish, crossing your arms with a pout. “I thought I had the apartment to myself.”

“I’m not making fun!” Jack denies, holding his hands up in surrender. “I think it’s nice that you’re having a me-party.”

He’s referencing the other time he’s interrupted when you’re having a movie night on your own, when you watched The Muppets (2011) at the lake house because the boys were out on the boat and you had gotten a nasty sunburn the day before, so you’d stayed in. Jack had come back early because he was hungry, making the boys drop him off at the dock before going back out, and caught you red-handed with his favorite kind of pretzels and a half-full bottle of margarita next to the blender. 

You blush, glaring at him slightly. “Shut up, Jack.”

“No, this is perfect,” Jack continues, glowing a little as his shit-eating smile builds. He walks over to the couch and plops down, grabbing the bottle of wine and taking a swig before wiping his mouth. “I’m already dressed for a lazy night in, I shouldn’t waste it.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re such a dick,” you complain. “You know you don’t want to watch this movie with me.”

“Why not?” He challenges, another tilt of the bottle pouring the fruity liquid down his throat. He spreads his legs when he sits as all the boys do, taking up as much space as he can. 

“Because you won’t like it,” you say. “And because I wasn’t planning on having you here.”

“Were you planning on having someone else here?” Jack teases. “Popcorn, red wine, a movie, no pants… I think I see the writing on the wall.”

“No, God, shut up, Jack!” You repeat with a huff, returning to the couch and curling up against the opposite arm, far away from the boy. “Just be quiet while I watch my movie. If you’re good, I’ll let you have some popcorn.”

Jack wiggles his eyebrows at you, sticking out his tongue. You pull at the bottom of your shirt again, making sure that your panties aren’t visible when he looks over. This is already humiliating enough– you don’t need your long-time crush seeing your underwear, too.

You hit play and turn the volume up loud enough to drown out any comments Jack might make. You’re lucky the movie is short, because he’s an antsy boy who loves to talk, just like your brother, and you can tell that he’s anxious to start another conversation.

As the credits roll, you mute the television and turn to him. “What?” You demand, sitting in criss-cross-applesauce and shoving your hands into your lap to stretch your shirt over the space between your legs. 

“You really didn’t have plans tonight?” Jack asks. “It’s a Saturday night and you live in LA. You’re in your twenties. You didn’t want to have anyone over?”

You flush, but it’s less out of embarrassment and more out of anger. “Judgemental much, Hughes? Not all of us have people throwing themselves at our feet any given day of the week.” You grind your teeth, clenching your jaw and taking a deep breath. You stare at him, refusing to break eye contact. Jack shouldn’t be allowed to form opinions on your life. You know exactly what he’s insinuating– why aren’t you out there getting laid, Y/N? and it’s frustrating because it’s the same question you ask yourself whenever your friends text about their recent hookups or whenever Trevor brings a girl back to the apartment. 

More than anything, you don’t want Jack judging you. You know that your Saturday night plans are lame, but that’s why you wanted to be alone. 

Jack falls quieter, your reaction diluting his crooked, toothy smirk that he reserves for the people he knows well. “I’m surprised you don’t have– people. Throwing themselves at you.”

He’s awkward when he says it, too awkward not to make you suspicious.

He’s avoiding eye contact, picking at his nailbeds. 

“Would you?” You ask, directly to the point. You’re making a point, too– you’ve known Jack for years and he has never, not once, implied that he thinks you’re desirable. 

Jack says nothing, running his fingers through his hair and looking down. 

You nod to yourself and stand from the couch, still tugging at your shirt. You’re pulling it even lower now, the neckline dipping and stretching as you cover your legs up as best you can. “That’s what I thought,” you say quietly, a cold feeling washing through your chest and pressing down on the skin that your heart beats beneath. 

“I would,” Jack calls, just as you walk away. You’re positioned right in front of the door that leads to your bedroom when he says it, head hanging towards the ground so that he doesn’t see the frown on your face. 

His silence was a rejection and his afterthought is even worse. Nonetheless, you turn to face him. This time, it’s your silence that rings throughout the space.

“I would,” Jack repeats. “If, y’know. You weren’t–”

“Trevor’s sister,” You say, filling in the blanks and finishing his sentence. You nod, a tight, close-lipped, and pointed smile on your face. “You don’t have to explain, Jack. I realized a long time ago that my world would always revolve around Trevor.” Your hand is on the doorknob now, twisting it and cracking your door open. Your bed is right there and you can collapse into it in mere seconds, able to let your tears leak into your pillow silently as you remind yourself that you’re not as good as your twin brother once again, just as soon as you get these words out. “I know I can’t do or say the things I want to with the people I want to because they’re always thinking about Trevor.”

You could add, And why would you be any different? You know him best. Of course he’s the one you’re loyal to, but you decide against it. It’s too petty. It’s too mean. It’s too– real. 

You look at him one last time to bid him goodnight, already craving the following day when his meeting is over and he heads back to Michigan, far away from you and your un-desirability. The tight smile returns to your face, trying to smooth out your upset yet resigned features. It’s always the same thing. It’s not Jack’s fault, really, it’s not. You’ve imagined this conversation in your head many times and each time you think rationally, you know that this is how it has to be.

He’s Jack Hughes, for God’s sake. You’re just Trevor Zegras’ less successful, lesser known twin sister.

“Trevor would kill me,” Jack says on a whim. “Really. He would. He would stand me up and punch me, right here.”

You’ve got one foot in your bedroom and one foot out. Despite the ice piercing through your chest, you can’t find it in yourself to be rude and close the door on him. You turn to face Jack again.

He’s sitting forward on the couch, hands clasped in front of him like a prayer. He moves them when he talks, lowering them and spreading them and gesturing with them. He’s always done that, ever since you’ve known him– it’s another way that he calls attention to himself and takes up space. It’s part of the reason why he’s so charming– he knows how to use his hands, how to touch someone to politely get them to move or to pull them closer or to playfully shoo them away. 

“If I had a sister, I’d do the same thing to him,” Jack continues. “It’s just– we can’t go for each others’ family. It’s against the code.”

You nod, slowly, exaggeratedly just to show him how nonsensical that sounds. “You realize it’s not up to Trevor to decide who you go out with,” you say. “That’s kind of your choice, Jack.”

“It’s not that simple.”

You shrug, then look away. Outside the living room window is a dark night, leaves blowing with the wind. 

“It could be,” you say after a moment. You’re not surprised to hear how resigned you sound. You learned to live with this a long time ago, so you know that pointing out how easily things could change is futile. You say it anyway. “If you wanted it to be. But, I get it. I’m your best friend’s sister. Maybe if I wasn’t, you’d consider–”

“I have considered,” Jack interrupts. “I’ve– well, you’ve seen it. All the guys have.”

You’re lost. It’s like he’s speaking in code. “I’ve seen what?” You ask, monotonous and silently yearning for your bed. Your patience is growing thin.

“You can’t be serious,” Jack responds with a laugh. He buries his face in his hands, muffling the noise. “Are you?”

“I’ve seen what,” you repeat, straight-faced and not entertaining this sudden bout of humor from the brunet boy.

“How I look at you when you’re in those tiny little swimsuits on the boat, or how I laugh when you make one of your stupid jokes that aren’t funny to anyone but you and Trevor,” Jack says. “You really never noticed?”

Now he’s just dangling your hopeless crush in front of you. You assumed he had noticed sometime over the years, but this is overkill. He’s never felt the same– that much is clear. It’s cruel that he thinks he can lead you to believe otherwise as a means to further tease you for being alone tonight.

You shake your head. “I never noticed because you never did any of those things, Jack. You’re just saying that to say it.”

He’s up in a flash, coming towards you and placing a hand flat on your bedroom door to prevent you from closing it and ending the conversation. “I can’t believe you don’t believe me,” Jack says.

“I don’t think it’s funny that you’re making fun of the little crush I’ve had on you since we were kids. You don’t feel the same way and I’m not an idiot.” You move to close the door again, but Jack pushes it open again. 

“You– I’m not making fun,” Jack stammers out, looking surprised. He leans forward, narrowing his eyes. “You have a crush on me?”

Your jaw drops and your face flames with humiliation. You thought he knew that you liked him and that he was making fun on purpose– and now you’ve accidentally revealed your massive, well-kept secret to his face. This was never supposed to happen. “You didn’t know?” You hiss, covering the lower half of your face with your hands. 

“You have a crush on me,” Jack repeats, a smile spreading across his face. He steps closer, prompting you to back away.

“No. No,” you moan out, feeling positively ashamed and destroyed. Tonight is not turning out as you hoped it would.

Jack’s still smiling, closing your bedroom door softly behind him as he follows you into your room. 

You knock into the edge of your bed and sit, sinking into the mattress. Your hands are still pressed over your mouth as Jack kneels in front of you, prying your hands away from your face and holding them gently. 

“You have a crush on me,” Jack says for a third time, his voice soft and subtly optimistic. The corner of his mouth curves up into the tiniest of smirks and you swear your face couldn’t get any more red.

All you can give him is a frown and a devastated wobble of your bottom lip. 

“Well, this changes everything,” Jack says, regaining his ability to joke, it seems. His next question is rhetorical and makes you swallow hard. “Who gives a fuck about Trevor when you feel the same way I do?” 

“You’re– you’re serious,” you say, still a thread of disbelief sewn into your words. “You weren’t kidding. You actually– thought about it.”

“Thought about it?” Jack asks. “Fuck, Y/N, I almost told you right before you left last summer, but then you said you were talking to that guy.”

You roll your eyes– that guy had only been in your life for about a month and you had only mentioned him because Jack had mentioned a girl he wanted to see. You tell him such– “I only brought him up because everyone was talking about their romantic interests and who they were interested in, I didn’t want to seem like a loser. You had some girl, too, Jack.”

“Some girl– that was you,” Jack reveals incredulously. “I thought I was being so obvious.”

“You weren’t obvious at all!” You deny, mouth open in a scoff. 

“I thought that you mentioning that guy was your way of letting me down easy!”

“Yes, Jack, because I was going to reveal my feelings for you in a room full of both of our brothers. Good idea. You fucking idiot!”

Jack laughs aloud, throwing his head back. His face scrunches up and he smooths his face with his big palm at the end of his amusement. He fixes you with a look of glee and astonishment– something only hindsight can bring to his expression. “We’re so fucking stupid.”

You shake your head, laughing with him for a moment before he swipes a thumb over your cheek, which stills you. 

“Fuck,” he sighs, smile still gracing his face. “I can’t believe–”

“Me neither,” you say.

“Can I–”

“Absolutely.”

Jack’s rising up, kissing you and laying you back on the bed so that he can completely cover your body with his own. One of his hands cups your cheek, while the other grips your hip, atop your underwear but underneath the big t-shirt that is now riding up your body as you move. Your hand is on his bicep and his chest, clutching his sweatshirt. The strings dangle down into your space, brushing against your clothes and tickling you.

His hands memorize you like a topographic map, clutching at your dips and curves and anything else he can get his hands on. 

“Wanna take this off,” You mumble against Jack’s mouth, tugging at the collar of his sweatshirt.

Jack pulls back immediately, reaching behind his neck to grab the collar of his top and bring it above his head. He balls it up and drops it somewhere on the floor. 

“That, too,” you tell him, about his t-shirt, before he can bend back down and kiss you senseless again.

Jack chuckles and pulls it off, too, leaving him half-naked just like you. His chest is tanned and swollen from his recent workouts in Michigan since his shoulder surgery, something that Trevor had told you about but about which you’d never checked in. You’re gentler on that side of his body, especially as he comes back down into your space and you get to touch him. You run your hands over his muscles. You feel out the ridges of his body, trying to match his own confident movements as he feels you up.

One of your hands makes its way to his v-line, something you’d seen over plenty of boat trips. You’d always wanted the opportunity to touch it, to trace it, to watch it bend and flex as he rolled his hips. You’re being afforded that opportunity now and it is sweet.

“I thought you might like that,” Jack murmurs. “Caught you staring once. Was the same day you wore my favorite red swimsuit out.”

“I still have it,” you tell him, gasping a little when his hand slides up to your chest. He tweaks your nipple, then his hand retreats. 

“Mm, a treat for tomorrow,” Jack says. “I’m gonna have you walking around in that thing all day just so I can look at you. For now…”

He trails off, pushing the bottom of your shirt up and leaving your lips to attach his to the freshly revealed skin of your torso. He kisses up your body with each inch he reveals, between your breasts and up your neck. He pulls your shirt off, letting it join his own on the floor, and gets his first proper look at your tits.

“Been waiting to see these,” he continues, eyes fixed on your chest like he’s being hypnotized. He places his hands on you and squeezes, feeling your supple flesh between his fingers. You moan out at the sensation, the noise spurring him on. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Yeah,” you agree, nodding and tugging at his joggers, hoping he’ll get the hint and remove them.

“‘ve wanted to come on these tits since I first saw it in a porno,” Jack reveals, still mesmerized by your chest. “Thought about it a hundred times.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Come on my tits all you want, but you have to fuck me first.”

“Guess your Saturday night wasn’t so boring after all,” Jack says before he stands from the bed and tugs his pants off. He joins you again, wrapping your legs around his waist and kissing over your face. He grinds against you, his clothed cock sliding against your damp panties in a way that has you both keening into each others’ mouths. 

“Guess not,” is your reply, cut short by another moan when Jack’s hand claims your chest again.

You move without speaking after that, fueled only by the desire coursing through your veins after years of pining and aching for the other. 

Jack feels you out and eventually discards his own underwear before removing yours, returning to the missionary position that you had assumed as soon as you had first kissed. It’s sweeter this way– and you both need to see the other’s face, to feel their breath mix with your own. Your chests are flush together, your nipples scraping against the defined and broad swoops of his skin. You grind against each other for a few minutes more, his dick sliding between the wet lips of your pussy with nothing blocking it. He groans into your ear as your juices coat his length, eyes closed in a grimace that is completely charged by his pleasure.

“Condom?” is the last thing he asks, with you shaking your head and replying, “Pill.”

He lines himself up, mouth agape with a choked breath as he thrusts into your tight, wet heat. Your head finds the mattress beneath you, your back arching up as he fills you. You can feel his veins sliding against your walls, the blunt and weeping tip of his cock poking at your deepest parts.

He moves like a man possessed and fighting the beast– like he wants to let loose but at the same time, restraining himself. When you tug on his hair, the subtle waves that he’s been growing out over the summer and hiding beneath his hat in every picture you’ve seen, and whine out his name, Jack’s control vanishes.

He starts to piston his hips into your cunt, burying his face into your neck and letting out ecstasy-fueled whimpers each time you clench down. He curses in your ear, voice a little higher than it normally is, and the intimacy and vulnerability of the moment has your heart clenching. 

“J– J–” You chant, mewling as his cockhead drives against the back wall of your pussy in hard thrusts that make your head spin. 

“So good,” he grits out, kissing over your neck and catching your earlobe between his lips for a moment before dropping it. One of his hands is splayed over your hip, the other securely planted next to your head. “So tight.”

“Coming,” you warn, your fingers finding his bicep and clenching, fingernails digging into his skin so much that you won’t be surprised if you break skin. Your voice is high, too, octaves higher because of the pleasure you’re experiencing.

“Fuck, yeah, baby, come on my cock,” Jack pants out, the hand from your hip coming to rub circles over your clit. 

It sends a shock up your spine and has your hips bucking up to meet his, your entire lower half shaking as your climax approaches. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and your vision goes spotty when you do come, just seconds after his groaned encouragement. Your entire body tenses, freezing with Jack still inside of you, making it damn near impossible for him to continue pumping his hips. 

He slides from your opening as you’re coming, bringing some of the slick with him in a feeble excuse for a squirt. His dick bobs, hard and an angry red that might be the most beautiful color you’ve ever seen in your hazy, post-orgasmic state.

Jack comes up to straddle your stomach, stripping his cock quickly with a tight fist, chest heaving. You know he wants to come on your chest, having already given him permission, but your mouth opens and your tongue lolls out in an invitation that Jack can’t deny. He shuffles up further on his knees, his whimper sounding pained as his milky cum spurts from the tip of his cock and lands along the flat of your tongue and your lips.

His spurts grow weaker, although he’s still stroking his dick in a fervorous pace, whining a little more at the oversensitivity. His cum makes his way to your chest, just dripping down the length of his shaft and pooling over your tits. 

You reach up with one hand and trace your fingers through the seed, causing Jack to sway a little on top of you at the sight. His cheeks are flushed and pink, eyes blue and clear like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Your fingertips brush your nipple, spreading the cum over it before you bring your hand up to your mouth and suck the remaining liquid off of your skin, swallowing it with a hum.

Jack is off of you in a flash, pulling you on top of his lap and joining your lips. The last of his cum, painted across your tongue in a thin layer, mixes with your spit as he kisses you. He’s desperate, filling your mouth with his tongue until you can barely breathe, tasting himself on you until it’s indistinguishable– where you end and he begins.

It takes a long time for Jack to finally pull away, for you both to come down from your highs and take a breath.

In typical Jack fashion, he can’t stop himself from joking around.

“Trevor’s really going to kill me now,” he says. “There’s a chance he’ll never let us be in the same room again.”

You laugh, knowing already that neither of you will be willing to let this– whatever this is– go just because your brother has something to say about it. “In that case, we’ll just have to sneak away.”

notes: I WANTED TO NAME THIS "BFB" AFTER THE VICTORIOUS SONG SOOOOOO BAD!!!!! but alas. it's best friend's sister. maybe some other time. blahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. well now wait that's a good idea...

[softlypaintedseafoam]

you are love itself (君は愛そのものだ)

synopsis. his skin is dotted in stardust.

pairing. portgas d. ace x f!reader

word count. 1.3k | masterlist

content warning. reader is coded black (written ambiguously. anyone can read), established relationship, childhood friends, love as worship, love as a choice, reader has established devil fruit powers

reblogs & interactions appreciated.

a repost from another account and a sort of filler post for anybody who wants something not event-related. i love this fic so much i wanted it to be on this blog too. may you get a kick out of reading it if you haven't before!

Everything is made of stardust; the stars that made Ace are simply visible to the eye.

They couldn’t be contained in the depths of his body like the rest of the world’s inhabitants. It’s scattered all across his skin in a beautiful display, matching the skies they fell from. Isn’t that something? You brush a hand against warm skin in awe. It’s all right there. The stars themselves rest upon his skin, how beautiful is that? How could anyone want someone like that dead?

When you were children, Ace told you he would bring you the moon.

What do you need the moon for when you’ve been touching the stars since you were 10?

Straddling his lap, you can’t help laughing as you think you’d been fighting a losing battle from the start. From the beginning, you’d been drawn to Ace and his stars and you wanted to follow where they’d go for the rest of your life.

“What’s so funny?” Ace murmurs into your shoulder.

“I think I was born to love you.” It is the only plausible conclusion for you to reach after 10 years of loving the same person. For the half of your life you’ve known him, you’ve chosen Ace from day one. You will continue to choose him for the rest of the life you have. You chose to chase him all around Mt. Corvo, you chose to be his friend, you chose to join his crew and your heart chose him even if your head had been slow to realize. “We don’t need to find the One Piece,” you murmur as you lead a trail of kisses from his shoulder to Ace’s cheek. “I already have everything the world has to offer right here.”

You feel Ace stiffen beneath you before he laughs sheepishly, “I think you need to have your eyes checked if you think that.”

“Hey,” you lean back so you can see his face. Your brows are furrowed sternly but your eyes sparkle with mischief and your lips stretch into a challenging grin. “I have better eyes than you, I can see the soul.”

Ace snorts but his voice is light and as warm as the smile painting his face, “souls of the dead, yeah.” Smiles suit Ace more than the frowns that were once commonplace when you were younger.

“That still counts,” you protest with a chuckle. He doesn’t have to believe he’s worthy of it, you’ll tell Ace all the same. You cup his face in your hands and enjoy the vibration of his mellifluous laughter under your fingers tips as you squeeze his cheeks. “There’s a lot you can learn about this sort of stuff when you can see the dead.” How the soul carries its wounds even after death. How the soul carries the essence of everything that makes something itself. How love can carry on beyond the grave.

You’ve seen it countless times by now in your truthfully short time of being a power holder.

The spirit of a man who wanted a few berries to leave as a surprise his husband could stumble upon to brighten his day.

An elderly woman dancing in the town square, seemingly alone following the steps she took with her lost love long ago. Unbeknownst to her, however, her love danced with all the same as they did once a long time ago.

Pods of orcas full of members past and present, refusing to part from their birth pod even in death.

How beautiful it is, a love like that.

Even while deceased, they choose to remain by their beloved all the same.

Whenever it is Ace’s time, he’ll take his stars with him and they will rest on his skin just as they did when he was alive. But I’ll make sure you’re so happy you won’t want to stay, you vowed when you partook of the sea’s cursed fruit. You carry this vow even now. Ace will die a happy death but more importantly, he will live a long and mirthful life.

(You can tell for as sure as your eyes are dry; the urge to cry and scream in mourning and warning nonexistent. Still it’s your heart’s desire that you go first so you don’t ever have to risk the day you know death will come for Portgas D. Ace.)

“You know what I think,” you cease your pinching, letting your lax thumbs stroke his face. Dark eyes look up at you like you’re a dream and gold like sunlight rests in your chest. It’s light yet heavy and even if your heart is calm, its rhythmic beating tells you something precious. And he’s so, so precious. “I think that when people move on, they’re reborn as someone else. Then they get to live life all over again. And one day, that’s gonna happen to us.”

Then you’ll cease to be the 'you’ you have been and so will he.

Maybe that time, you’ll be raised in separate seas and there will be no trio of brothers you’ll latch onto. Maybe he’ll be born somewhere in Paradise but I’ll be from the West Blue. Or maybe he’ll be a fishman. Or a giant!

Maybe next time, Ace will be a short girl with firey auburn hair and chocolate brown eyes with the disposition to match. Or he’ll be a scarred and gruff dragon moray eel fishman who is an overt romantic.

Maybe next time his stars will follow him as the marker that ties him to his previous life. Then you’ll recognize him the moment you see him. But even if I don’t, I’ll love you then too. You don’t need reminders of who he was to make you want him again.

Whatever the outcome may be, you will embrace it wholly.

“Whenever that happens, I’m gonna find you and I’m going to love you all over again. You can be a girl or a giant or a fishman.” Or maybe he’ll be the tiny human and you’ll be the giant. It will be nice being taller than Ace for once, you tell him as much with a laugh. There’s a spot of wetness at the corner of his eyes that you wipe away instinctively. “Or… maybe this world runs in one big loop and we get to be us again but that time we get to make different choices. Do the stuff we didn’t do last time. But regardless of all the different things I might end up doing, the one thing that is gonna stay the same is that I’ll choose you all over again.”

There’s a pause before Ace ducks from your gaze with a wet laugh, forehead pressed against your shoulder again. The unmistakeable feel of warm droplets subsequently follow. “Thatch must be cutting onions,” he chuckles weakly. “Sorry.”

“Dummy,” you wrap your arms around his shoulders and inhale his scent. There’s a natural sweetness to it you can’t explain; it’s sweet but there is a peppery kick. It’s been that way since the first day you met him. I love him, I love him, I love him. The sentiment echoes throughout your entire being. “it’s okay to cry.”

“Would you really want me again?” His voice is soft and unsure like a young bird who doesn’t know if it can trust its wings.

Who else would I want?

Why would I want anyone else?

I’ve known you for 10 years, Ace. There’s nothing about you I don’t want.

“Over and over again,” you kiss his temple once, twice and then a third time before you lift his head and kiss the corners of his eyes. “It’s you and no one else.”

A noise of surprise escapes you when Ace’s lips press against your own but you relax a beat later, humming tenderly. You relish every sensation, how his arms wrap around you tight and how his fingers gently dig into your back. The taste of salt on your lips is akin to the ocean and your heartbeat reverberates throughout your chest.

Yes, it’s telling you something precious.

[seunghyunjigglers]

mama, a stray kid behind YOU ★ @seunghyunjigglers

ot8 skz members as brainrot memes!

author's note: we even included links for some of the less chronically online divas out there (generous much?)! a lot of thought and effort went into this and we hope you love and appreciate our firstborn child. tw: dark humor. betas, do not interact!

chan ★ "i'm the leader, i'm the alpha, i'm the one to trust"

unironically watches bad edits of himself and goes "ayeee" to hype himself up about being edited

comments under them on his secret account

his fyp is now most definitely infiltrated by alpha chan edits

let's be real the whole trend was probably what inspired wolfgang to be released

bites his lip bc he thinks it makes him look sexy and he just looks like he's eating his bottom lip

tries to do that thing where guys put their necklace between their lips and take pics to be sexy but the necklace falls down his throat and he starts choking

would deliberately start doing aegyo followed by serving face to show his 'duality' since apparently the fandom love it (poor guy doesn't understand irony still)

LOVES when stays talk about his gyatt and starts using it bc he thinks its just another normal word for ass and seungmin and felix almost throw up laughing at him

minho ★ "queen never cry"

genuinely thought 'lock in' was something to be taken seriously and does NOT take it lightly when chan tells everyone to lock in

his kinky ass also probably thought it was some kind of jail roleplay (jisung had to explain it to him)

has mewing competitions with himself in the mirror

makes 'minho never CRY 💜' the note on his alarm in the morning

thinks it’s funny when he recommends the ki sisters manga (where the meme comes from) to people as his favorite series and the poor author has to actually go on a talk show cause he blew it up with the internet

checks his notifications EVERY day hoping someone will edit him with that baby

accidentally comments “queen NEVER cry” under a sentimental skz edit on the official account and wakes up with several calls from his managers.. let’s just say it didn’t go over well

changbin ★ "gadagadegadagadao" (omega nugget)

he stumbled across this meme on felix's fyp one evening and thought it would make the best vocal warmup for his raps, didn't realise it was a joke and actually uses it before recording tracks

when he discovers its a meme he thinks its hilarious and makes it his whole personality

stops mid convo with people and makes the face and thinks he's so funny (everyone is tired of it)

orders mcdonald's for everyone and takes the time to draw the face on EVERY chicken nugget and couldn't be prouder of himself

genuinely thinks the song is an actual banger and has it saved as a sample for a potential title track

hyunjin ★ "donatella VERSACE"

only types like THIS 💜 and felix and seungmin are the only ones who get it

chan finds out and secretly changes his name in a groupchat with their managers and staff to "hwang HYUNJIN 💜"

he is tired but donatella is not

his gag christmas present for secret santa is boxers with ms versace herself covering his chocolate starfish and he has a wardrobe malfunction while wearing them at a show and EVERYONE sees

is actually really embarrassed when he has to explain what it means to her and she just nods and tries to smile with all her botox

after this she comments it on all her posts and he accepts that he’s never escaping it

jisung ★ "jiafei 'in my head' remix" (floptropica)

this man is always singing his lungs out in every skz code and somewhere along the way he saw an edit of him with jiafei's vocals in the bg

was actually impressed by her vocal skills and tried to hunt down her ig page, ends up on some fake floptropican fanpage but he doesn't know this because he has minimal survival skills

dms some loser message like "wow your voice is sooooo nice haha...i also like to sing lol...so do you like korean boys haha..."

owner of the jiafei fan account is a stay and thinks this is hilarious and catfishes the hell out of him for WEEKS, sends vocal edits and jisung unironically eats them up, he def sends back vms of him doing vocal covers to impress her

felix hears him singing a jiafei remix one day and almost shits himself laughing, jisung gets angry and defensive until felix reveals that jiafei is literally a meme

realises he's been catfished

blocks the account and gets sulky whenever any floptropican edit pops up on his fyp, but still sings the jiafei remixes quietly to himself (some habits are hard to break)

felix ★ "oi oi oi...baka" (freaky larvae)

recreates it and everyone takes it seriously and he has to make a video telling everyone it was not in fact a thirst trap

breaks up serious arguments like "we need to calm down...you're all being a bunch of...heh...bakas..."

searches it up one day to see if there's any other lore and accidentally discovers a yagami yato audio and gets traumatised

seungmin gets fed up by felix constantly repeating it so he comes up with a master plan and during one of their japan concerts says "oh, felix has been practicing his japanese lately...what's that thing you keep saying?"

i feel like he'd perfect that freaky expression and everyone is sick of him and changbin for randomly using them

picks larva on his turn to choose something for movie night and everyone comically (see what i did there) groans and gets up while he’s just there cracking up

seungmin ★ "saddam hussein hiding spot"

this guy saw a 'saddam hussein hiding spot' comment under jeongin's post and fell down the rabbithole (or rather, the entrance covered in bricks and rubble)

thinks its HILARIOUS because it's a historically accurate meme (nerd!)

definitely whispers it every single time he sees someone or something laying down and everyone is so fed up with it, also gets felix to do the voice since he can imitate it perfectly

uses it as an excuse to randomly start lying down during dance practices and when everyone complains he just says "why am i lowkey serving saddama hussein hiding spot?"

he'd take this shi so seriously like he'd be doing the math to figure out how much time to spend on each app each day so he can make his daily screen time average look like saddam hussein JUST to make the reference

jeongin ★ "that feeling when knee surgery is tomorrow"

someone makes a comment about how they tore their acl and have to get knee surgery and he goes "that feeling when knee surgery is tomorrow" and starts laughing

it wasn't very funny to said someone

probably has to make one of those formal instagram apology posts because of it (he sets the music as the bg for the original post but his manager makes him delete it and post again)

fake falls at practice and when everyone crowds around him all worried he says he feels like he might need knee surgery tomorrow and gets kicked out of the room

pays an insane amount of money to get everyone matching knee surgery knee pads for practice and absolutely loses it every time someone actually needs to use it and has no other choice

posts a fake hospital pic with “do NOT get your knee surgery from shein !!” on his secret account

asks for permission to change his pfp to the grinch and considers outing jyp when he gets told no

[mysteria157]

Moment Two: Your Daughter's First Pair

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

CW: fluff, profanity (not really), sexual suggestion, slight angst (very minimal).

Word Count: ~3.4k

Summary: Nanami joins you and your daughter for a family tradition, but he may not be as strong as he thinks.

Set in the It Had To Be You universe but you don't need a lot of backstory to follow along.

Notes: This was a random thought that I had based on something that has always been a thing in my family that I wanted to write out. There is nothing significant about this, I have not written Nanami in a LONG time, so I'm trying to warm myself up again. I am so rusty but I'm using fleeting moments of inspiration and taking advantage of it.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome! Happy reading!

Divider: @saradika | Header: myself

| Twitter | Ao3 | Masterlist | Moment One | Moment Three...Eventually

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

MINORS DNI

“You don’t need to hold her so tight.”

“I’m protecting her.”

“And what am I, a goat?”

He raises a brow at your jest, autumn wheat and elegant but nonetheless annoyed as he glares at you. He doesn’t mean it, you know that—it’s all nerves.

“Ken, we don’t have to do this you know? If you’re against the idea, we can wait a few more years.”

“I’m not against it,” he reassures you, adjusting your daughter in his arms. Ulani babbles up at him, her chubby hands digging into a sharply cut cheekbone. He carries on without complaint, already used to her behavior. “This is a tradition, and I understand it but…”

You turn a key chain in one hand, your thumb smoothing along the glittery face of a dog—or is it a cat? The rack is filled with key chains of different colors, animals and objects, bringing back memories of middle school when you would drag your best friend Omelia into this same store in Sendai before it closed down. Despite the many years that have passed, the store chain still has its subtle hues of purples and pinks, earrings punched through purple cardboard paper, pens with wonky erasers, and headbands of different designs.

“But what?” you try to finish for him, smiling up at his nervous form as he lets Ulani talk to him in her own baby language.

Kento pulls in a deep breath as if to steel his nerves and prepare for the inevitable. He’s praying to whoever will listen, trying to use every coping mechanism in the book. He’s wearing jeans that hug his fit thighs and a dark blue short sleeve that shows too much bicep for your liking (you should give him a dress code). There are only so many single and married women and men that you can glare at in a day, and the redhead over by the register is pushing it.

“Will it hurt her?” your boyfriend’s low timber pulls you back, filled with apprehension, and he keeps mahogany eyes on his daughter to avoid showing you just how scared he is. You rub his back to soothe him, tracing the bands of muscle that are tense behind the soft fabric.

“I-I’m worried.”

“And you shouldn’t be. It’s a simple thing, lasts two seconds. Just like when she got her first shots.”

That’s not enough for him, because now Kento furrows his eyebrows in frustration, bouncing his daughter in his arms to entertain her and also soothe himself. “There are a lot of things to consider. The risk of infection. Rejection. What if she hates them? What if they get caught on her clothes? Or her curls? Or—”

“Are we ready?” one of the employee’s sing songs from behind you both, walking towards the singular chair perched against the glass wall of the store.

“I—” Kento croaks, clearing his throat and swallowing loudly. He looks down at you. “Are we?”

In the time you’ve known him, you’ve only seen Kento visibly nervous a handful of times. That stoic demeanor is a smooth, stone-like shell to everyone else besides family and close friends, but you know the weak spots and have glimpsed into the fragmented sections only visible to your eyes. Right now, he’s nervous and fearful beyond belief. That all encompassing love and attention that he shows you from sunup to sundown extends to his daughter as well. If there is one person besides you, who can make Nanami Kento show his emotions freely and without reservation no matter the date, place, or time, it’s Ulani.

“How about you hold her?” you suggest and give him a small push towards the black chair. Two employees work at the small kiosk next to him, unwrapping sterile materials and cotton swabs. Kento’s eyes watch every movement, searching for any sign of threat that can give him the ammunition to take his daughter and never come back. You can practically hear his thoughts:

“Is that up to code?”

“How long has that been sealed?”

“What is the name of the manufacturer so that I can ensure it’s reputable?”

Your roll your own eyes, knowing how right you might be.

When you found out your pediatrician would be on her own maternity leave, you let Kento research every establishment in Tokyo until he found one in Shibuya. Reputable, good reviews, and well-practiced in this procedure.

Of course, you’re nervous too. She’s your daughter, a combination of you and Kento, conceived from a very drunken night of disdain but grown out of eventual love and adoration. The thought of her crying in pain makes that maternal part of you flare with anger and the consuming need to protect her forever. But you’ve prepared for this for awhile.

Kento? Not so much.

“Is that clean?” your boyfriend asks one of the employees, clutching his daughter a little tighter. It’s a little rude, but the employee smiles at him in a way that conveys understanding of his trepidation. This isn’t their first rodeo.

“Completely sterile from the package. I promise she’s in great hands.” Deep eyes free of steampunk-esque glasses flicker up at her in doubt, but he simply sniffs and looks back to his daughter instead to withhold a scathing remark. “How about one of us on each side, and we do it at once?” she suggests, addressing him directly. It helps, as he gives her a somber but curt nod.

He situates Ulani in his arms so she’s sitting fully on his lap, his large hands holding her up with a slight tremble. The sight is enough to remind you again that this is new territory for him. What has always been a normal tradition for you and the other females in your life, is a foreign concept for him.

Ear piercings are a milestone in a young girl’s life. You got yours as a baby, and so did your mother. Omelia got hers as a baby, as did all her female cousins, as did her mother and the mother before her. If you interacted with your mother’s side of the family, then maybe you would know if your cousins also did the same.

But that’s another thought for another time, and you refuse to let painful memories tarnish what should be a memory you are crafting on your own, right now.

You step closer and run your hands through thick blond locks that are free of gel. You brush the strands from his forehead, letting the soft texture slip past your fingertips as he relaxes instantly. With his place in his chair, he’s at the perfect height to rest his head on your stomach, and he does so a second later.

One of his hands brushes light brown curls from his daughters ears. You can feel the unease radiating from him with every deep breath he takes, and you scratch that spot at his nape that makes him shudder, hoping it will help.

The muscles in Kento’s neck bunch together instead when one of the employee’s leans toward Ulani to make marks in deep purple, and even your own stomach turns in response at what’s to come. 

“Okay, we will do this on three. How’s that sound honey?” one of the employees coos at your daughter. Ulani, who is a carbon copy of her father, stares up at her, observant and sinking into her daddy before offering a gummy smile. “She’s so pretty.”

“She’s beautiful,” Kento corrects, slightly rough but still appreciative of the compliment. “Aren’t you, my dove?”

He tickles her side and offers a rare chuckle as she squeals up at him, wiggling in her father’s embrace. The sight makes your heart do flips because this is your world, day in and day out. Just you, Kento, and the person you’ve created together.

You step around to squat in front of him so you’re eye level with your daughter, a hand coming up to wiggle the toes covered in a tan sock. Her eyes catch you immediately, and she holds your gaze long enough for the two employees to position themselves on each side of her. 

Kento holds his breath.

“Alright, here we go. One. Two. Three.”

They both move in sync, pressing down on the plastic gun so the studs slide through the soft lobe of Ulani’s lower ears. Kento’s eyebrows furl together immediately. Ulani’s eyes widen for a second before her face contorts, her mouth opening in a silent cry. Your heart hammers and your chest tightens in an sudden flood of sadness and desperation that crashes against you like a tumultuous wave when Ulani takes one heaving breath in….

And screams.

His reaction is quick. Kento bounces one leg at a tempo that alarms you, his handsome face flying through different stages of grief, anger, and pain as he watches the employees adjust the diamond earrings to ensure they heal without complication. His mouth opens and closes, jaw grinding to keep his rudeness in check, because you know what he wants to say.

He was the same way when she got her shots; all glares and sharp stares at everyone else because they were the source of her discomfort. But like that time before, you are the cooling balm for his hot anger as you wiggle your daughters toes and murmur soothing words at her, to show him that she’s going to be just fine.

“It’s okay, baby,” you smile softly and it’s enough to capture her attention even though she’s squealing and crying from the sharp but quick pain in her ears. But all too quickly, you’re not enough for her, because the daughter that you carried for almost ten months turns away and reaches for her father, crying loudly in his arms. It’s a sting that you prepared for, but nonetheless hurts with a severity that takes a few seconds for you to recover from.

By the time you pay one of the employees and exit the store, Ulani has already calmed down. Kento digs into the diaper bag on his shoulder and pulls out a cotton cloth, wiping her nose as she sniffles and whines into his shoulder.

“I know honey, I know,” he coos to her, wiping the tears from her light brown skin and swaying back and forth. “But you were so strong, weren’t you? Hmm? A lot stronger than me.”

He pulls her away from his neck, smiling softly at her, and that one smile makes your chest bloom with satisfaction. It’s times like these that remind you how your life has surprisingly fallen into place. Who would have thought that the man who used to drive you insane would be the only one fit for you? 

That small twinge of hurt you felt minutes ago when Ulani turned away from you resurfaces, but reassurance cools it’s prickly edges. Even though this is a moment you may have been more connected with, it’s Kento who feels the painful side of it a lot more.

So you give him his own moment. You watch quietly as he kisses her chubby cheeks repeatedly, smiling into her skin at the giggles that leave her. You fall into the hum of the world around you as you watch him tuck away the cotton cloth and smooth the curls away from Ulani’s ears, finally admiring the diamonds that twinkle on each side. The lobes will be red for a few days, but for Ulani, she will never think of them again until she’s old enough to pay attention. Until she’s old enough to change them out to match the outfits she decides to wear, different colors and gemstones, and multiples if she ever has a streak of expression in her teenage years. Like you did.

Kento finally looks down at you, chestnut browns sparkling as he takes you in from head to toe. The harsh Shibuya sun beats down on bustling city square, but the rays are soft when they touch him. Tan skin is illuminated gold on his cheekbones, his hair luminous in the sun. You reach up to run a hand through his locks for the second time this afternoon, your heart still not used to the incessant hammering that arises when he leans into your touch.

You lift an accusatory eyebrow at him and hold back a chuckle when you speak. “Our daughter was the soldier this afternoon, and yet I’m coddling you?”

“Keep coddling,” he demands, voice tinged with mirth as he turns to place a kiss inside of your palm and then leans back into your stroking. “Today was very painful for me, have you no shame?” 

You snort and dig your nails into his scalp in retaliation, enjoying the groan that rumbles in the air from your ministrations. “Don’t blame this one moment on your entire day. You had a great run, remember?”

“My slowest three mile run yet.” Quick on the draw, and you already know where this is going. Kento rarely complains, but when he does, it is about the most trivial things as a means to get and keep your attention.

“You made me pancakes this morning.”

“Not my best work. Too much cinnamon in the batter.”

“We made out two hours ago?”

“Ulani woke from her nap and interrupted what would have been a very enjoyable afternoon.” That complaint leaves his mouth in a grumble, and you purse your lips to hold off the laughter that sits in the back of your throat. He’s truly pouting, and god do you love him.

“And now seeing your daughter cry from her first ear piercing was icing on the cake of a bad day, I imagine?”

“Exactly.”

You finally giggle and playfully pull a strand of his hair. He narrows his eyes at you, mischievous yet still carrying that ingrained indifference that you know and love. Ulani shrieks in his arms, finally past her blip of crying and now ready for her parent’s attention. You take in her drool of a smile, slightly red ears, and brown onesie-dress, and the possibilities flood your mind. It’s…very overwhelming when the thoughts hit you: how she will grow into herself, develop her personality, her wants and desires, her hobbies and her dreams. 

“Pay attention to me,” he interrupts your thoughts, and you can’t help the bark of laughter that you give him in response. Ulani mimics you, completely oblivious.

“You’re such a baby, and we have a baby,” you tease, snorting at his level expression and dusty cheeks, slightly shy but absorbing your presence. “You and Ulani have had it rough today. So how about a reward?” You look to your daughter when you ask, knowing damn well she has no idea what you’re saying but you want to include her anyway.

“How about frozen yogurt?” I.e., the unsweetened applesauce in the diaper bag for Ulani and matcha-flavored frozen yogurt for Kento from a favorite vendor a few blocks away. It’s an obsession of his that’s been appearing in the freezer with numbing regularity.

Kento remains unphased by your suggestion, though his lips twitch with the desire to smirk down at you.

“Seeing our daughter in pain was more heartbreaking than I thought. Food may not help, I’m afraid.”

Kento is milking his “pain” at this point, and you’re far too in love with him not to entertain the idea you know is floating in his head. You love this about him, just how playful he is when it comes to you.

“You’re a tough nut to crack.” You tap your chin as if you’re thinking hard, humming in contemplation. “How about…” you trail off, a hand sliding up a muscular bicep before massaging his nape again, relishing in the shudder he gives in response, his eyes twitching to hold back the urge to roll into his head in satisfaction. “Since you’ve suffered so much today…we can go home…and I’ll do that thing you like.”

You have the privilege and skill of being able to read Nanami Kento like a book. You don’t miss the glee that dances across his features—the uptick of one side of his mouth, the slow brow lift, the darkening of his irises. He knows exactly what that thing is. You’re pretty good at it—a master at it—and he made you promise that the day he ever turns that thing down, is the day you can leave him.

His cheeks explode in blush, jaw ticking before he clears his throat and smooths a sweaty hand down the dark blue of his shirt.

“I see,” he ponders, looking up to the sky as if in deep thought, and you know if you roll your eyes again, they’ll get stuck. “Well.” He situates Ulani in his arms and presses a few kisses to her cheek again to pull those giggles from her that you both love. “Who am I to deny your mother?” he suggests to his daughter. “Not a moment to waste, Ulani.”

“You’ve got to be kidding—”

“Quickly, before you change your mind.” He slides a hand to the small of your back as a means to hurry you along, pressing softly and turning you in the direction of the car.

You try to bat his hands away from you, giggles growing in volume as he dodges all your attempts to get rid of him. “I’m not going to change my mind, Ken—”

“Quickly.”

He takes your hand and you let him pull you, beaming at his back as he increases his pace. Ulani is happy as can be in her father’s arms and babbling as he talks softly to her.

“A snack before nap time sounds good, doesn’t it? What kind of applesauce would you like today?” She gurgles. “Cinnamon again? Hmmm, we should always try new things, Dove. What about the strawberry ones I bought you yesterday?” A squeal. “Strawberry it is. I think…”

The rest of their conversation fades into the background as you walk with them, warmth coursing through your veins with each step. It’s a warmth that catches you off guard, but has been ever present since Ulani’s birth. And you love every bit of how it feels. How it flows through you with every breath you take. How it only grows every minute, every hour, every day that you create a life with them.

After Ulani is buckled in her car seat and you slide your seat belt into its latch, Kento leans across the armrest, a warm hand sliding against your cheek in a gentle caress before he slants his lips against yours. It’s a surprise, but the shock dies as quickly as it forms as you melt into his touch—full lips that know your own and soft blonde locks brushing your face.

That affection that he pulls from you every day is given back in this moment—freely and without restraint—in the parking lot of Claire’s in Shibuya, where your daughter got her ears pierced for the first time.

When he pulls away and whispers his love for you against your lips, you repeat it back to him without thinking. It’s a motion that you both carry out whenever you can. 

“No more piercings. My heart will probably give out.”

“Do you feel better?” you ask in a tone that is filled with the teasing nature that sticks to you like a second skin.

He loves it, but doesn’t take the bait, and instead kisses your lips again, each cheek, and the tip of your nose. “I will soon.” The innuendo is so obvious you can taste it. He’s been with you too long to be a blushing and awkward man. “Once Ulani is asleep.” You push him away with a giggling huff and savor the deep chuckle that falls from his lips, permeating the air of the car.

As Kento drives through the crowded streets towards your shared home in Nakameguro, the hand not on the steering wheel envelops yours, a thumb stroking the skin of your palm. You look out the window and observe the colors and cars that zoom by, and the sound of a deep breath behind you makes you look back. And when you do, your heart gives a painful but welcoming lurch as you gaze at her. Your daughter already asleep, her head dipping to the side—curly locks askew and sticking to the drool on her face, and her new diamond earrings shining back at you.

Thanks for reading!

[httpvomitello]

Hey hi can you do TMNT headcanons for when they find out you hate pizza?? But you’ve been pushing through because you’re down bad for them 🥲

Oh nooo! The taste of betrayal 😭 poor babies... Anyways, I hope you like it! ♡♡♡♡

Leo is surprisingly oblivious to your pizza disdain at first, especially since you’re always a good sport about it

You’ve been eating it with him during every hangout, and he’s convinced you’re totally on board with the pizza life.

One day, while watching a movie, you casually mention that you’re not the biggest fan of pizza, and Leo’s brain short-circuits. He pauses mid-bite, staring at you in disbelief. “Wait… you hate pizza? And you’ve been eating it just for me?”

After learning you’ve been enduring pizza for him, Leo teases you relentlessly, but in that smug, charming way

"So, how many more slices were you gonna choke down before telling me, huh?” He’ll flash that confident grin, knowing he has the upper hand.

Leo would absolutely make it a point to surprise you with food from your favorite restaurant one day, playing it off cool, like it was no big deal

“Thought we’d switch it up tonight. No pizza. Just you, me, and your favorite dish.”

When the team inevitably orders pizza again, Leo will dramatically shield you from the sight, covering your eyes with his hands

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to suffer anymore. You’re safe now.” You’ll both end up laughing, but it becomes a running joke.

Donnie’s the type to notice something is off long before you confess

When he finally finds out, probably through an offhand comment from you, he looks at you with wide eyes, then immediately questions his observational skills

“Wait. You’ve been eating pizza this entire time… and dislike it? That’s borderline masochism.”

He’ll probably do some deep dive research on food preferences and intolerance, just in case you weren’t telling him the whole truth

To make up for it, Donnie starts coding a highly sophisticated "Perfect Pizza Finder" algorithm. It takes your tastes into account and suggests custom pizza recipes that are more suited to you

“With this, you’ll never hate pizza again!”

When the two of you eat together from then on, Donnie will insist on creating the menu himself

"This time, it’ll be something your taste buds actually enjoy." And he’ll use all his high-tech gadgets to make sure it’s perfect every time.

He’ll go above and beyond to make sure you’re not suffering anymore, all while teasing you for your initial sacrifice.

Mikey is devastated when he finds out you don’t like pizza

You’ve been his pizza buddy for so long that it’s practically a core part of your relationship in his eyes

So when you finally break the news, he’s dramatically heartbroken: “You’ve been living a lie?!”

At first, he thinks you’re joking, but when you assure him that you really don’t like pizza, he looks at you with genuine confusion

“But… why didn’t you say something?!”

You confess that you’ve been eating it for him because you like him, and he melts on the spot

Mikey is beyond flattered and immediately starts brainstorming pizza alternatives just for you

“What about pizza rolls? Pizza with, like, no sauce? Dessert pizza? There’s gotta be some pizza variation that’ll win you over!”

Even though pizza is still his #1 love, Mikey’s happy to switch it up for your sake. He’ll start planning more food adventures that cater to your taste, often suggesting new foods to try together and making sure you never have to force down a slice again.

When Raph finds out, he’s shocked you didn’t say anything earlier, but he also feels kinda guilty

“Why didn’t you tell me, dumbass? You didn’t have to force yourself to eat that greasy stuff for me.”

After that, he becomes super protective of your food choices

He’s not about to let you suffer through pizza again if he can help it

“From now on, we eat what you like, got it?”

Raph’s way of making it up to you is offering to cook up something himself

He might not be the best cook, but he tries hard, and it’s kind of adorable watching him fumble with a spatula in the kitchen

Whenever his brothers tease you about it, Raph is quick to shut them down. “They did it for me, so back off.”

He’s secretly proud that you were willing to push through for him, and he might even feel in love even more.

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

“You’re gorgeous.”

Lips brush softly against Billy’s temple. Fingers card into his hair at the base of his scalp, holding him like he’s something precious.

Billy scrunches his nose.

“Knock it off,” he scoffs.

When he bats his hand around, shrugging away from the touch, his wrist is snatched with a gentle grip.

“So fussy over nothing,” Eddie muses. He smooths his thumb from side to side against Billy’s inner wrist, leaning forward and planting another kiss on the bridge of his nose. “Why do you always get so grumpy when I compliment you, hm?”

Now, Billy’s brows draw together. Eddie kisses the crease, snorting into Billy’s palm when his free hand flies up to shove at his face.

“‘Cause it’s gay.”

“Well, I have some news you’re not gonna like.”

The brunet’s voice is muffled. He wiggles his eyebrows from between Billy’s fingers, and Billy only retracts his hand when lips press against his palm.

He makes a show of wiping his hand against the front of his shirt, and Eddie snickers.

“I don’t like it, okay?”

“Don’t like kisses? Blondie, I’m wounded.” Eddie closes the short distance between them, crowding Billy against the headboard. “You sure seemed to like ‘em a minute ago when I was—“

“Shh, stop,” Billy interrupts.

He can feel his skin grow hot when Eddie cracks a face-splitting grin, so close he can almost taste it.

In the back of his mind, on loop, is the sound of the headboard thunking against the wall over and over. The box springs creaking. Those damn fucking handcuffs rattling around his wrists.

As if sensing how deep his embarrassment runs, Eddie reaches up to tuck a curl behind Billy’s ear.

Just enough softness to cut the edge. Always.

“C’mon, you know how pretty you are, how can you expect me to not wanna smooch all over your face?”

“I said knock it off,” Billy warns.

Eddie stays close. Lingering well within the short reach of Billy’s personal bubble, but his expression dulls ever so slightly. Like a switch being flicked off, the light behind his eyes vanishing.

It has Billy holding his breath.

“Do you think we’re doing something wrong?”

The brunet’s voice is lower than before. Quieter. Billy opens his mouth and closes it again, looking for the answers in the other’s expression.

When he doesn’t provide a response, Eddie huffs amusedly and tilts his head to the side. Releases Billy’s wrist in favor of interlacing their fingers.

“Just ‘cause you don’t want love to come your way doesn’t mean it won’t, y’know.” He leans back against his free hand, giving Billy adequate space to breathe, and chews his lip in brief thought. “Don’t have to be naked to be loved, either.”

For a long beat, Billy just stares. He almost wants to run to Munson’s bathroom and look in the mirror, just to check and make sure his thoughts aren’t written all over his face for Eddie to read aloud. It’s a silly urge, all things considered.

He’s sitting in a trailer that he spends more time in than his own bedroom, wearing a stupid t-shirt and boxers that aren’t his, surrounded by pillows that he forced Eddie to buy because one pillow just wasn’t up to code.

The devil is in the details, and suddenly the air feels thin.

Even with the small space between them, Billy is still boxed in with no feasible way out. He furrows his brows and clenches his jaw.

“You don’t love me,” Billy spits.

Then Eddie laughs and it brings his blood to a simmer.

“I kinda do, though,” he lilts. “I get this happy little rush whenever I see you, I think about buying you cassettes and other shit with my negative account balance, and I quit lookin’ at nudie mags a little while back. If you’re mopping up what I’m drippin’.”

He fucking winks and Billy’s sure his face is redder than a tomato right now.

“What do you look at?” he hears himself ask.

His voice sounds far away over the thundering in his ears. Eddie snickers and leans over towards the edge of the bed, pulling the top drawer of his nightstand open and routing around.

How he keeps track of anything in this room is beyond Billy. Still, he manages to produce exactly what he’s looking for; a Polaroid.

Eddie sits back up, looking over the picture fondly for a moment before he hands it over. Billy accepts it with shaky hands.

The camera has made it into a few of their sessions before. For later, Eddie always says, and then snaps the most diabolical picture any lens has ever seen. The pervert probably has a whole shoebox full of them by now.

Not that Billy would ever ask to see.

He’s expecting something filthy when he turns it over in his hand. A shot of cum all over his face, or his mouth full of cock with a fist in his hair, shoving him deeper. The last thing he needs to see right now.

Instead, it’s an image of him smiling. Fully clothed. Eyes shut, and crinkled at the corners.

He looks genuinely happy, and he can’t even recall when the picture was taken. All he can deduce from the background is that he’s in Eddie’s room.

Go figure.

“We were smoking,” Eddie says, leaning closer to tip the picture down so he can peak at it once more. “One of those first times, before we ever did anything, and you were so giggly. Laughed at damn near everything I said, and I knew I wanted to remember that sound and how pretty you looked when you smiled all big like that.”

“Wanted to remember?”

“Mhm, you immediately smacked the camera out of my hand and yelled at me,” Eddie snickers. “Wasn’t sure I’d get another opportunity.”

He sighs fondly, like that’s endearing to him, and Billy presses his lips into a line.

“You jerk off to this?”

“Well, when you say it like that—“ Eddie pauses. Dawns a bit of a blush and shrugs one of his shoulders, still peaking at the picture. “You look relaxed. Totally at ease and happy, and it just gets me excited, I guess.”

Billy nods.

“How many times have you whacked to it?”

Eddie clears his throat and averts his eyes, sitting up straight reaching to toy with a lock of his hair.

“Like, uh, I dunno. A lot?”

“What’s a lot?”

Briefly, Eddie’s eyes flit back to Billy’s, and he looks away again. Tugs his hair in front of his face to hide his rapidly reddening complexion.

“Maybe something like 20-ish?”

Billy’s brows shoot upward.

“20 times?”

“Just counting the times I’ve used it exclusively.”

“Christ.” Billy shakes his head, spreading the faintest hint of a smile. “No wonder you keep saying you like me so much, you fuckin’ Pavloved yourself.”

“No, I felt that way the first time!”

Billy laughs, and he doesn’t miss the way that Eddie stares at him through half-lidded eyes. Like he just did something sexy with the intention of getting a rise out of the brunet.

It makes everything too real.

The air between them is suddenly hot again like it was mere minutes ago. Billy swallows thickly.

“That’s really your ultimate fantasy? Making me happy?” he asks. Glances back down at the picture. “More vanilla than I would’ve guessed.”

“Oh, you saying I can’t fuck you nasty and make you happy at the same time? That’s a challenge I’m willing to accept.”

Eddie crawls closer again. Dips down to nudge his face into Billy’s chest like a cat, pressing kisses against the worn fabric of his shirt.

When a hand brushes up his side, Billy goes rigid. Takes a few calming breaths and fights the urge to squirm away when Eddie kisses at his collarbone. He warily pushes his fingers through the brunet’s hair instead, cradling the base of his scalp.

Because maybe he’s something precious, too.

“You’re weird, Munson.”

Eddie chuckles, nosing fondly at his neck.

“You’re gorgeous, Hargrove.”

[tonysbed]

Secrets I keep | Part 16

Max Fewtrell x norris!reader

summary: You and Max have been dancing around your feelings for years but jealousy gets the best of us all..

warnings: again, the internet is cruel. Max gets into his head, mental health issues?? self doubt, crying, mention of cheating

not proofread

series masterlist | previous | next

-

“Alright, I’m leaving then! I’ll see you in a few days” You say, coming trough the door into the living room, where max was sitting on the couch. It had been a few good weeks since the whole incident and you were both cooled down from the drama.

Lando hadn’t really come to his senses, but you unblocked him. Your dad had a talk with him, that resulted in nothing.

“Alright. Be careful and text me” He gets up from his place and hugs you, kissing the top of your head “I will, don’t worry” You kiss him and smile “I gotta go now before I miss my flight or something!”

You look at your phone “And they’re here! Okay, gotta go. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone! I love you” “Won’t do, I love you too” Max watches you leave the apartment with a suitcase, and sighs.

He still hadn’t voiced his concerns about Franco. Not to think wrong, franco was a super nice bloke but he was flirty and you two just got along a little to well for his liking.

But how would you know? You only had eyes for max, franco was not interesting for you. But that is something that Max has to get in his head first..

-

You slid into the backseat. Kika turned around to look at you “Ready?” You smile “A tour through the headquarters of tractors? Sure!” Pierre glared at you through the mirror “Do you want to walk?” He grumbled “Pierre!” Kika slapped his arm “What? She said I’m driving a tractor!”

Kika rolled her eyes smiling and pierre dropped it.

-

norris.yn

liked by franciscagomez, pierregasly, maxfewtrell and 36 others

norris.yn she’s everything and he’s… there

pierregasly why am I always catching strays

franciscagomez 🙂‍↕️😘

alexandrasaintmleux 😂😂

charlesleclerc oh pierre 🤦‍♂️

maxfewtrell always tired 😂

pierregasly of your girlfriend? Always

franciscagomez Pierre.

pierregasly What? She’s always stealing you

norris.yn she deserves more than you

pierregasly see??

maxfewtrell I choose peace and ignore it.

-

You three arrived at the Alpine headquarters and as you neared the entrance you saw a figure enthusiastically talk with Paul, who just looked like he was being tortured.

As you got closer, Paul spotted you three and sighed in relief “Thank god. Now he can talk your ear off. I really like you Franco, but it’s to fucking early” Paul says, yawning.

You chuckle as Franco huffed “Mean” He crossed his arms but smiled at you “You’re alive! You weren’t at the paddock, your brother acts as if you aren’t his sister and you don’t post anymore!” He throws his arms up in the air.

“Have you seen what happened?” You chuckled “Yeah I know” “Don’t you follow her on here new account?” Pierre asked “Uh..new account?” Franco looks puzzled at the frenchman and then at you.

“Yeah, I made one just for friends, no strangers, no privacy invasion, just us” You say smiling. Franco nods, pulls out his phone and hands it to you.

You type in his code, which kika raised an eyebrow at and request your account from his. You hand it back to him and accept the request.

“Ah, yes you have been alive!” He laughs. You nod and laugh. Pierre and Kika start to make their way inside, and you two follow them.

-

norris.yn

liked by pierregasly, kellypiquet, francocolapinto and 46 others

norris.yn @/ jackdoohan, pls get better soon, they’re crazy

jackdoohan I will try my best 😂

norris.yn pls hurry up 😭😂

franciscagomez we’re not that bad 🤔

pierregasly …

paulaaron you love us, really

francocolapinto now why would you post this? my my

norris.yn you’ll live

-

max grimaced at his phone. This is exactly what he feared could happen. But before he could continue his thought train, another notification popped up on his phone.

It was a gossip page that had tagged him. That was never good but he clicked on it, and immediately regretted it.

-

f1gossip

f1gossip Franco Colapinto was spotten near the Alpine Headquarters with Yn Norris. Mclarens number one drivers sister. Has she moved on from her boyfriend Max Fewtrell?

user oh my god. She’s disgusting

user what a bitch

user max isn’t even allowed to be mad, he did the same

user are we gonna ignore that Pierre, Paul and Kika were also with them??

user 🤢

user franco noooo

-

-

You sigh as you put the phone down. Kika tilts her head at you “What did he say?” “He’s being weird” Franco raised an eyebrow “About me? I swear, I know you guys are a thing! I don’t want anything from you” Franco raised his hands in surrender.

You chuckle “I know that. Something tells me tho that this is not based on todays events.” You look at Kika with a knowing look. She presses her lips together.

“Do we have to understand this?” Pierre asked confused “Are you a woman?” She asked him with an raised eyebrow “No?” “Then you won’t get it.”

“I’ll guess it’s an early leave for me” You sigh “Nooo, can’t he be weird alone for a few more days?” Paul pouts “I’d rather resolve this as soon as possible. I know how much Max can get into his own head because of the media. I’ve seen it with him, and i’ve seen it with Lando. I know what It does to people”

“Especially something like this” Pierre says, his voice now serious but calm. Kika nods “Of that is what you think is better for the two of you, that’s okay. We can do this another time. Maybe even bring max that time” Kika says, Pierre nodding along “Definitely”

You smile “Thanks guys. I guess I’ll see what flight will get me back the fastest” You pull out your phone again “Is he in monaco again?” Kika chuckled “Yep. He’s at my apartment” She nods “Obviously.”

-

While you were planning your trip home, Max was laying in your bed. His eyes fixed on the side you claimed as yours the first time he had officially slept over as your boyfriend.

He smiled a bit at the memory, which was quickly soured away by the pictures of you and franco flashing in his mind. He knew you would never do such things, he knew that Kika, Pierre and Paul had been there but in moments like these, his mind wasn’t quiet.

It screamed at him. Screamed he’d get hurt again, or more by the one person that could actually hurt him deeply.

He shakes his head. You wouldn’t.

Are you sure? You’re not even a racing driver.

She loves me for me.

does she now? why would you be enough

Max sat up and got up to go into the bathroom. He looked into the reflection of the big mirror. His eyes were red from crying, but not too bad that he couldn’t pass it off as sleepiness.

He splashed water in his face and sighed. His mind was playing tricks on him that only you could outplay. You were outplaying tricks you didn’t even know about.

He let his head hang and sighed again.

He turned off the light and made his way to the kitchen for a glass of water. In moments like these, he would’ve called lando. Something he had also cost her.

She would’ve never argued about Daniel with Lando if it wasn’t for him. It was all his fault.

-

It was later in the day when you had finally arrived back in monaco. You sighed as you pulled out your keys but before you could put the keys in, the door swung open.

Max looked backwards into the apartment, his suitcase in hand. He closed the door and finally turned around to look at you.

you both stare at each other for a moment. You look between his suitcase and him “Uhm..where you leaving?” You ask confused.

“I..uh” Max didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t expected you back so soon. What in christs name-

“Why are you back already?” “That doesn’t matter right now. Did something happen?” Max’s jaw clenched and he looked away.

A knot forms in your stomach “Please don’t tell me this is about the Franco thing” You say quietly. Max still doesn’t meet your eyes. You abandon your suitcase for a moment and unlock the door.

You point for him to go back inside. Before he could protest, you shake your head “We’re talking about this. Inside. With your suitcase.”

-

You sat down on the couch, turned to Max, while he was faced forward, hands fidgeting.

“Max, please talk to me about this. I already told you, I would never..Franco isn’t..He doesn’t even fit into my life” You say, still looking at him.

“I know” He says quietly “Well apparently you don’t. You wanted to leave why exactly? To tell me what? You didn’t call, you didn’t text” His head turns to the kitchen.

You can see the island from the couch. There is a vase of your favourite flowers and a letter perched up against.

“I knew you would try to stop me” He says quietly. Now he had made you speechless. You look at him in shock.

“You..so” You take a deep breath “So this is it?” You ask, not entirely sure what you’re even saying. Max finally looks at you. He doesn’t say anything but his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

You clenched your jaw “why?” You whisper, biting back tears. Max weighs his options. You would try to convince him to stay, when he would tell you the truth. But he would only hurt you further.

His mind kept screaming to go, his heart was aching, and crying out your name, longing for your love. He knew you’d be better off without him. He had to go.

“You wouldn’t understand” “Then make me understand. Let me try to fix this! Us!”

“There is no us. Not anymore. There should’ve never been an us”

The words lie heavy in the room. You stare at him. You can only watch as he gets up, takes his suitcase and takes one last look at you.

This is it, she’ll be free of you.

-

Alexandra could barely understand what you were saying over the phone as she rushed out the door, Charles closely behind, having to drive her over to you.

She tried to calm you down, with no success. The only thing she understood was “Franco, Max, broke up” And the last one was what made her stomach turn.

-

She opened your door with her spare key, rushing inside, finding you curled up on the couch.

“Hey, hey.” She took you into her arms. Her arms tighten around you as your sobs got heavier and more pained. Charles looks worried, wording the name ‘Kelly’. Alex nods, hoping Kelly would get more out of you, knowing you two knew each other longer.

Kelly arrived sooner than Alex expected, and Charles left, telling Alex to call if she needed anything.

-

alexandrasaintmleux added to their story

[cap: @/kellypiquet our new master chef 👩‍🍳 🍝❤️

reply’s:

charlesleclerc how is she holding up?

she’s okay for now. Calmed her down but his story doesn’t make sense. It’s quite confusing and just really out of the blue.

charlesleclerc hm..you want me to play detective?

pls do

charlesleclerc no problem mom amor❤️

❤️

user isn’t that yn’s kitchen??

-

so uhm.. yeah. Here’s a good handful of angst and Max’s head full of chaos 😬 Ups

Happy Valentine or whatever

[tinfoil-jones]

Jerk Ford AU: Jerk Psy.D

[Follow-Up from: Jerk M.D]

If as a Doctor of Medicine (M.D), Jerk Ford would be Dr. House coded; if he chose to be a Doctor of Psychology (Psy.D), he would be Dr. Victor Blane coded:

Robbie, sobbing while holding a laptop: I'm literally being cyberbullied on this f***ing computer every day! And I don't know what to do.

Jerk Ford: *throws laptop out of the window*

Robbie:

Jerk Ford: Problem solved.

---

Thompson: There is something seriously wrong with me.

Jerk Ford: What's wrong?

Thompson: When I look in the mirror, all I can think is 'no one f***ing likes you.'

Jerk Ford: There is absolutely nothing wrong with being honest.

---

Soos: Tío, my bio dad used to hit me when I was a kid.

Jerk Ford: Is your biological father still involved in your life?

Soos: Kinda, he can barely walk. He stays in a nursing home now.

Jerk Ford: Well, what are you waiting for?

Soos:

Jerk Ford: You could definitely win the rematch.

---

Stan: Does your zero star rating on Yelp upset you?

Jerk Ford: The only zeroes on the internet I care about are the ones in my bank account. If I ever felt upset, I'd wipe my tears away with a f***ing hundred dollar bill.

---

[Video by agc.andy]

@rayyanishere1, @localcanadiancreature62, @triptychcryptid; your whatever the opposite of prayers are have been heard!

[baby-tini]

Hi!!! Not a request, just a question if you don't mind. Ever since I found your account and read your SSK poly work, I've been thinking about this for a while, what would happen if Chuuya and Dazai found out you killed someone?

I like this question, simply because I've thought about it a lot, but context is needed for this situation. Although I will say, despite the context, Dazai and Chuuya would still protect you, whether this murder were too be premeditated or not. You mean more to them then the law, especially if it's PM!Dazai and Chuuya. But I'll give a premeditated and accidental murder scenario for them.

TW- Murder, Manslaughter, Implication of Assault.

Premeditated-

If the murder was premeditated, PM!Dazai and Chuuya would surely have contradicting reactions, especially if you were also working for the Port Mafia at the time. If you are working for the Port Mafia, it isn't gonna be a big deal, and while Chuuya isn't too big on killing, he does it because it's his job. PM!Dazai on the other hand, really doesn't care, you're in the mafia, murder is apart of the job. Now, if you're not apart of the Port Mafia then you're gonna get a different reaction from both of them. From PM!Dazai, instead of nonchalance, you'll get interest. He knows people have a plethora if reasons why someone would commit murder, but he wants too know yours. What brought you to that point, of taking the life of another, were you angry? Vengeful maybe? Perhaps you were owed something and came too collect, he's not sure but he wants too know. With Chuuya, he'll be sad about it, you're not involved in their job and he doesn't want you too be, and this is one of the reasons why. Although Chuuya has a strong sense of loyalty, he also has a pretty strong moral code. Although this won't make him dislike- or even hate you, depending on the reason and who you killed, but he may look at you a little differently for a while.

But when it's ADA!Dazai in the situation of you premeditatedly killing someone, I think that he would give you a different reaction, as opposed to PM!Dazai, again depending on whether you work for the Port Mafia or not, would vary ADA!Dazais reaction. Simply because, and this is assuming you met ADA!Dazai after he left the Port Mafia, and Chuuya depending on if this a poly or not. But if you did meet him after he left the Port Mafia and you committed this murder, he'd use his position too protect you, but he'd also want too know why you did it. He'd feel a bit melancholic, mostly for you. Merely because he understands what it feels like too take someones life, especially with him trying too do better, become a good man if you will. He doesn't want you too live with the potential guilt, but because it is premeditated, I don't doubt that he'd have an inkling that you were up to something. He'd try too convince you not too, and too just let the police deal with it, but even he knows that people don't always get the justice that they deserve. So, if it was something that you felt you had too do; a last resort of sorts, he'd help you out, he'd be more efficient at getting away with it, given his experience. If you did work for the Port Mafia, which he'd do his best too get you too leave, he's not too thrown off, that's apart of being in the Mafia; committing murder.

Accident-

If you accidentally murdered somebody though, PM!Dazai, in my opinion, wouldn't care and I say that simply because, he, himself, has stated that he's not a virtuous person; meaning that he is someone who habitually does wrong to his own detriment and takes pleasure in it and he also, very obviously, lacks a moral compass. I think he'd be more intrigued about what about lead up to the murder, instead of the murder itself. If it were too be because they were trying too hurt you, or assault you, he'd give evenless of a fuck, because realistically, if he found out that someone was trying too hurt you, he would've killed them himself. So you doing it, actually prevented hours of torture for that person, especially if it was quick, they should thank you in the afterlife. PM!Dazai would just simply have the body gotten rid of, disposed of, like trash as he brings you back to his, cannonic, shipping container. Chuuya though, he'd have a more extreme reaction, depending on the context and circumstances. If it was someone trying too hurt you, he'd be pissed, gently taking you away from the scene as he barked orders at his men too get rid of it, hushing you as he let you cling to him in either shock or tears as he pressed gentle kisses to the top of your head. He'd get you counselling if you need it, obviously under the guise of the Port Mafia, he doesn't need this being reported. But if it were more of a recklessness on your part and you were playing around, Chuuya would be a little pissed at you. Scolding you for a while, but he knows things accidents happen, so he'd just have his men get rid of it and you're forbidden from doing the thing that led to that accident in the first place.

The reaction you would get from ADA!Dazai, really wouldn't differ from PM!Dazai in this specific scenario, because it was an accident, he'd want it too be taken to the police, seeing as you've done no wrong. Especially if that person was trying too harm you, you had every right too defend yourself and although he's proud of you for being able too handle your own, the chances of you being out of his sight are very low now. Now, if it was a reckless mistake on your part, he wouldn't let it get out, because that is no longer self-defense, but is now Manslaughter. Which you could go to jail for, he wouldn't be happy with you but he's not mad either, and I say not mad because accidents do happen, but also not happy because you've essentially put yourself in a situation that he now has too get you out of, while he'll still protect you with everything he has, he'd like you too refrain from having anymore of these types of... accidents.

[rcklessheavn]

𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫 ── ★ ˙🏎️ ̟ !!

f1 driver!matt x influencer!reader au

summary: after influencer!reader is invited to give interviews at the grand prix event, she meets matt and everything changes for both of them.

intro pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4

warnings: mentions of alcohol, brief swearing

wc: 3.6k

notes: im new to the F1 world, so bare with me and im sorry if i get anything wrong. english is NOT my first language.

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 ༉‧₊˚.

You’ve seen countless races and know just how fast a racing car can go, but seeing it live is a whole different experience.

Practice had been done for about five minutes, and you couldn’t move. Your ears were still ringing, your body pulsing with an incredible surge of adrenaline. It was overwhelming—and this was only practice! You couldn't wait for qualifying tomorrow and the race on Sunday, but for now, you had to survive the day.

Nick noticed your stunned silence and broke it. “Crazy, right?” he said. You turned to him, still in disbelief, shaking your head.

“More than crazy. That was insane! You get to watch this every year?” you asked. Both he and Chris nodded.

“I mean, with Matt here, we get a free ticket if we want it,” Chris explained. “We can’t make it to every race, but our usual ones are the first, the last two, and Monaco. After that, it just depends on our schedules.”

Nick hummed in agreement. “Sometimes only one of us, or our parents, comes out. Or one of us and our older brother. Honestly, it varies. But yeah, we've seen this plenty of times.” You couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy—who wouldn’t want that kind of access?

“That’s really nice,” you said, just as footsteps approached.

“Ready to continue the tour, Y/N?” Claudia called. You nodded and hugged the guys goodbye.

“I’ll see you both tonight, right?” you asked, and they both nodded. You smiled and headed toward the stairs, eager to continue exploring the paddock.

Claudia, Hailey, and you toured the entire paddock. You waved at a few of your favorite drivers, hoping you’d have the chance to interview some of them tomorrow. You saw a few other influencers invited by brands and teams—some seemed just as excited as you, while others looked bored, likely treating it like a brand trip. You didn’t quite understand that mindset, but then again, it wasn’t your life.

By the end of the tour, you and Hailey had silently agreed—it was time to find something to eat.

“Hey, Claudia, Hailey and I are thinking of grabbing a late lunch. Wanna come?” you asked as the three of you walked toward the paddock’s entrance.

Claudia smiled. “That’s sweet of you, but I can’t. I’ve got a meeting in about 30 minutes, and we still need to organize tonight’s dinner. Speaking of which, you need to be here by 6:30—no later than 7:00. Bring the passes you’re wearing so they’ll let you in. They’ll tell you where to sit. You’ll probably be seated with the Sturniolos—”

At that, your stomach dropped. You couldn’t help interrupting, trying to act casual despite the sudden panic inside. “Are the drivers sitting with us or…?”

Claudia didn’t seem to notice your unease. “Uh, I don’t think so. They probably have their own table, or they're with sponsors, but don’t quote me on that.” She continued, “There’s no dress code, but you have to wear red. It’s a theme night, apparently. Oh! And we want you to film for our TikTok account—those cute, aesthetic mini vlogs you do. Plus, we want you to do a quick, laid-back interview with our drivers.”

Your head was spinning. Not only were you asked to create content for Ferrari’s page, but you also had to interview both drivers. Charles was manageable—he seemed like someone you could easily befriend. Was he intimidating? Sure, a little, but that wasn’t the issue. Matt, on the other hand… your heart raced just thinking about him. And the weird staring contest you’d had earlier—what the fuck was that about?

Claudia noticed your inner panic and chuckled, patting your shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry. You’ll do great. Besides, there’ll be an open bar for a little liquid courage if needed.” She smiled, and both you and Hailey chuckled.

“Thanks, Claudia. We’ll see you tonight,” you said before hugging her goodbye. Hailey did the same.

You and Hailey ended up at La Rascasse, a popular nearby restaurant that you’d heard a lot about. The food was delicious, and to celebrate the start of a big weekend, you both ordered cocktails. After eating and chatting for a few hours, the clock hit 3:30—time to start getting ready for the first big event of the weekend.

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

Once you were at the hotel, you decided to multitask—vlogging on two devices at once: your camera for YouTube and your phone for the mini "come with me" vlog for Ferrari’s TikTok. Surprisingly, you weren’t stressed. Vlogging had become second nature by now—your biggest skill and passion—and a small challenge never hurt anyone.

Home with You by Madison Beer was blaring through your speaker as you finished doing your hair, when Hailey suddenly rushed into your room.

“Did you even bring any red clothes?!” she asked, panic clear in her voice.

You looked at her and chuckled. “Do you really think I’d come on a trip sponsored by FERRARI and not bring any red?” you shot back sarcastically. Hailey rolled her eyes.

“I brought ten red outfits,” you added confidently. Hailey walked over to your suitcase, muttering under her breath, “Of course you did.”

“Is this what you’re wearing?” she shouted from across the room.

“Yes,” you called back, stepping through the door. You were wearing a gorgeous red outfit that accentuated your skin tone beautifully, hugging your body in all the right places—hoping it would make everyone who saw you drop their jaws. Or at least, you hoped so.

“Okay, Ms. Ferrari,” Hailey teased, raising an eyebrow. “I see you’re trying to leave your imprint on a few people.”

You laughed and walked back to the bathroom to start on your makeup.

“I’m not, but whatever,” you said as you finished prepping your skin. “You’d look amazing in either that silk dress or the off-the-shoulder top with the matching skirt, by the way. Maybe you’ll leave your imprint on a certain media person… or should I say, woman?” You flashed her a mischievous grin.

Hailey froze for a moment before trying to play it off with a nervous chuckle. “What are you talking about?” she asked, clearly wondering if you’d figured her out.

“Oh, come on, Hails,” you said, finishing your eye makeup before moving to your base. “I saw the way your eyes literally followed Claudia every time she spoke. Be so for real right now.”

“That’s not true, you’re insane,” Hailey said, clearly flustered, as she picked up the two-piece set from the bed. “Besides, I don’t even know if she’s gay,” she added, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

“Please, she totally is. I swear she checked you out—like, really checked you out,” you said, completely serious.

“Now you’re just joking. Very funny. I’m leaving,” she replied with a smile, clearly trying to brush it off. You couldn’t help but laugh as she exited your room.

Thirty minutes later, you stood in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection. You looked... unbelievable. You barely recognized yourself, but in the best way possible. You looked ten times hotter than usual—and you loved it.

The car’s here, Hailey texted.

It was game time.

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

The dinner was at Castelroc, a beautiful restaurant just a short drive from your hotel. Stepping inside, you were immediately struck by the elegance of it all. The space was adorned with red roses and subtle Ferrari logos, creating a classy, sophisticated atmosphere. You felt out of place, yet, at the same time, incredibly welcomed.

The entire event took place outdoors, with stunning views of the Monaco coastline. Tables were scattered across the space, each one illuminated by flickering candles and warm lamps that, though a bit intense on the eyes, added a cozy touch. Whoever was responsible for the decor had truly outdone themselves—it was by far the most beautiful dinner you’d ever been invited to.

As you made your way through the garden, you spotted Nick and Chris immediately, deep in conversation with someone you didn’t recognize. As soon as the mystery person walked away, Nick noticed you and waved you over.

“Hey, guys!” you said with a smile, moving in to hug each of them.

“Y/N! You look beautiful—red is definitely your color,” Nick said, giving you a once-over and making you twirl.

“I have to agree,” Chris chimed in with a smile. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks, guys, you both look great too.” You smiled, then realized Hailey was standing beside you. “Oh, this is Hailey, my manager and literal best friend. Hailey, these are Nick and Chris, Matt’s triplet brothers.” You introduced them, and Hailey extended her hand to each of them.

“Enchantée, mademoiselle,” Chris said with a dramatic, over-the-top bow, which made Hailey laugh.

“Hands off, Casanova,” you teased, grinning. “She plays for the other team.”

Chris flushed a bit, his awkward laugh filling the air. “Oh... sorry. Good for you,” he stammered, making everyone laugh.

Once the laughter died down, the four of you dove into conversation, chatting about everything under the sun as you got to know each other better.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw someone approaching Chris. You turned and froze—Charles Leclerc was standing right beside you. For a moment, your brain short-circuited, and it took you a beat to regain control of your senses as Nick spoke up.

“Charles, this is Y/N Y/LN. She’s here with Ferrari. And this is her manager and friend, Hailey,” Nick said smoothly, introducing you both. You extended your hand with a smile, your mind still in a haze.

“It’s nice to meet you both,” Charles said, turning to you. “I hope you’re enjoying the experience so far.”

Then, he asked, “Were you the one on the balcony today by the track, with the Ferrari hat?”

You froze, suddenly forgetting how to breathe.

You nodded. “Y-yes, that was me,” you said, trying to swallow the lump of nerves in your throat.

“Oh, yeah, Matt and I saw you,” Charles said with a smile. “We were wondering who you were. Are you a Ferrari fan?”

Your brain was scrambling for a response, but Hailey swooped in just in time.

“A fan? Oh brother she sleeps, lives, and breathes Ferrari– it's like in her blood or something,” Hailey answered before you could even open your mouth. You could’ve kissed her in that moment for saving you from your awkwardness.

Charles raised his eyebrows, his smile widening. “Is that so?” he asked, intrigued.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, trying to sound casual. “I grew up alongside it. My dad’s the original fan.”

“That’s awesome,” Charles said, giving you an appreciative smile. “Well, I hope you enjoy your time here. Welcome to Monaco! I hope I can catch up with all of you later.” With that, he gave a nod before turning to chat with another table.

When he leaves, you can't help but breathe. What just happened?!

“You met Charles Leclerc, that's what” said Nick. Oh I said that outloud you think.

“Oh my god, that was crazy,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief. “I need a drink.” You chuckled nervously, standing up. “Anyone want anything?”

When everyone shook their heads, you made your way to the open bar, which had been calling your name since you walked in.

At the bar, you ordered a cosmopolitan—yes, your mom was obsessed with Sex and the City, and you’d somehow developed a love for the drink as well. While waiting for your order, you couldn’t help but admire the view. The marina was beautifully lit, with boats drifting by and people enjoying the night. It felt surreal being there, and you couldn’t quite comprehend what you had done to deserve this moment.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a voice.

“Can I get a root beer, please?” The voice sounded familiar—like you’d heard it before—but you didn’t want to turn just yet.

When the bartender placed your drink in front of you, you quickly thanked them, but just as you were about to leave, the voice spoke again.

“Hey, you were the girl on the balcony earlier, right?”

You turned, and there he was—Matt.

Matt Sturniolo. The Ferrari Formula 1 driver. The Matt. The one who had locked eyes with you in what could only be described as a weird staring contest earlier on the balcony.

“If you weren’t, it’s okay,” he added, when you didn’t immediately respond, clearly unsure.

Words, right. those are important to have a conversation.

“Oh, yeah—sorry, that was me,” you said, somehow feeling a lot more relaxed than you expected. “I’m Y/N,” you said, stretching out your hand.

“Matt,” he replied, as if you didn’t already know, taking your hand in his.

When his hand touched yours, you could have sworn you felt sparks. It was strange—almost like your hand was meant to fit in his, and yet, maybe that was just the cosmopolitan talking.

Which, you realized, you hadn’t even taken a sip of yet.

“Well, Matt, it was nice to meet you,” you said quickly, trying to break the slight awkwardness. But just as you tried to pull away, Matt grabbed your arm, stopping you.

“Wait, don’t go,” he said, his grip gentle but firm. “Don’t you want to talk?”

You blinked, a little taken aback. “You want to talk to me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he said, his gaze unwavering, intense. “You’re pretty, you’re here, and you seem about my age.”

You could feel your confidence waver, but you pushed through, trying to match his energy. “Oh, so you think I’m pretty?” you asked, your voice teasing but slightly nervous.

“I don’t think. I know.” he said, his tone firm and confident, trying to throw you off. 

But you don't flinch, maybe blush, but it's dark so who’s going to notice? 

“Is this how you seduce women, Matthew?” you ask, clearly joking. 

“Why? You want me to seduce you?” He replies, his cockiness coming out of him. Which he didn't understand, he wasn't usually like this… but after that slight handshake, you ignited something within him, and he couldn't stop, he had to have you now. 

You chuckle at his question “funny, i'm gonna go now” you say, a slight smile creeping in. You turn around and start walking back to the table, then you feel a presence behind you. 

“You know, following me wont seduce me right?” you say, without turning around and he chuckles. 

“I'm not following you, i'm going to my table” he says, a smile clearly on display, you couldn't see it but it was clear in his voice. 

You stay silent, a bit confused, maybe his table was close to yours. 

And you were absolutely right… but he was much closer to your table than you thought, he was IN your table, right beside you actually. 

“Great! You’ve met Matt!" Nick says as Matt dabs up Chris. “Hailey, this is my brother Matt.” Nick introduces. 

“So you're the famous Matt Sturniolo” Hailey says as she stretches her hand. 

“Heard of me?” Matt asks, knowing the obvious answer. 

“Ehh, a bit– it's her fault to be fair” she says as she sits down, Matt sitting beside you with a cocky grin. 

“Oh so you talk about me?” He says to you and you bite the inside of your cheek, avoiding eye contact. 

“Well, you're a Ferrari driver, I'm a Ferrari fan, what do you expect?” you say, turning your head towards him, narrowing your eyes. 

You will not give in to his games, no matter how captivating those ocean blue eyes of his are. 

“Don't deny it pretty, you like me” he says, in almost whisper once everyone turns into their previous conversation. 

“In your dreams” you say, standing your ground once again. 

“Maybe you can help me make them come true” he says, and that makes your stomach flutter cause WHAT. This couldn't be real right now. 

Before you could react, Claudia came over, said hello to everyone and told you it was time to give Charles and Matt their small lighthearted interview. 

After about 20 minutes of trying not to laugh, turns out Charles and Matt made a very funny duo, you could see they had a very nice and genuine friendship, which you were glad about, not many F1 drivers were actually genuine friends, but they were. 

The interview itself wasn't THAT fun, it was standard questions about their favorite memory together, how they felt about this year, if they had any predictions and their most crazy hear me out, Charles coming up with Sally from Cars, and Matt coming up with the Elder Wand from Harry Potter, which had you question your entire existence and his. 

The dinner was perfect—delicious food, great conversation, and the whole table was buzzing with happiness. The atmosphere was relaxed and warm, with laughter flowing easily between everyone. Charles had joined you at your table later that night, and Hailey had mysteriously disappeared after dessert was served. She claimed it was to hit the bathroom, but you knew her well enough to guess that she was probably off searching for Claudia.

And the next text you received confirmed it. 

Found claudia!She IS gay. 🤗🤞And well… would you ask for a ride back? Or uber?Do you hate me?

LMAOAs long as i get all the details tomorrow, youre goodHave fun! and be safe🫶

You let out a quiet breath and glanced at the clock. It was getting late, and you didn’t want to be too tired for qualifications tomorrow.

Matt must have noticed the slight distress on your face because he nudged your arm gently.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft and sincere.

“Yeah, I just need to find a ride back to the hotel,” you said, offering a neutral smile as you opened your Uber app. But before you could search for a ride, Matt took your phone and set it down on the table.

“I can take you, if you want,” he said, his usual confident demeanor shifting into something more shy and modest.

“I-I wouldn’t want to bother you,” you said, feeling a little embarrassed.

“You’re not bothering me,” he replied quickly. “I was going to head out anyway. Where are you staying?” He grabbed your purse from the chair and stood up.

You were caught off guard but managed to answer anyway. “Uh, the Hermitage Monte-Carlo… I think that’s what it’s called.”

Matt made a satisfied sound. “Perfect, I’m staying there too,” he said, sounding pleased.

“Of course you are,” you muttered under your breath with a chuckle, before turning to say goodbye to the rest of the table. Nick gave you a teasing side-eye, but you tried to play it off, even though he wasn’t letting up.

Outside, Matt’s car was waiting for both of you. He opened the door for you, handing your purse back as you climbed in. You took the opportunity to admire the sleek sports car for a moment.

“Nice car,” you said, turning to look at him.

Matt smiled and shrugged. “Not mine. They just let us rent them while we’re here,” he said, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “Don’t tell anyone, but back home, I drive a van.”

You couldn’t help but smile, and Matt caught the expression, grinning right back. How could he not? You had a way of lighting up a room.

The ride was quiet, but it wasn’t awkward. It was the kind of comfortable silence that only came after hours of talking and laughing. And besides, the drive wasn’t long—ten minutes at most.

When you arrived at the hotel, Matt quickly parked and rushed around to open your door. You couldn’t help but think it was cute.

“Well, aren’t you a charmer?” you teased, and he chuckled.

“I have to impress the ladies somehow, don’t I?” he shot back with a grin, and you laughed.

You both walked side by side to the elevator.

“What floor—” you both started at the same time, causing you both to laugh.

“Three,” you said, pointing to the button.

“Four,” he replied with a smile, pressing the button for three.

You both stepped into the elevator, settling into a comfortable silence for a few moments.

“Hey, we could go for a longer car ride if you want,” Matt said, breaking the silence. You turned to him, smiling.

“Tempting,” you replied, “but I should get some sleep, and so should you.”

He smiled back. “Maybe next time?”

“Maybe,” you said, not sure how true your words were, but the idea was certainly tempting. Just as the elevator doors opened, you gave Matt a smile and started to walk out, but he called your name before you could go too far.

“Are you going to watch the qualifications tomorrow?” he asked, standing between the elevator doors.

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” you assured him, turning back toward him with a smile.

“Good,” he said, his tone hopeful. “Come see me before?”

You blinked, a little surprised by the request. “If you want me to?”

“I do,” he said, his eyes locking with yours, and you felt a flutter in your chest.

“I will then,” you said softly, and he smiled.

“Cool, have a good night, pretty girl,” he said, his grin widening. You couldn’t help but blush at the nickname.

“Good night, Matt,” you said, before walking down the hall toward your room, Matt heading back into the elevator with a wide smile on his face.

What the fuck just happened… is the last thought you both have before you close your eyes for the night, ready for whatever tomorrow will bring.

y/n.yln posted

liked by matthew.sturniolo, and 200k others

y/n.y/ln day to night in monaco ✨❤️‍🔥

nicolassturniolo ate so hard, left everyone speechless

y/n.y/ln SO DID YOU!!!! are you kidding!???

hailey_matthews Ms. Ferrari delivered🔥

y/n.y/ln ms ferrari is lowkey growing on me

tarayummy OH RED IS SO YOUUUUU!!

y/n.y/ln UGH ILY

emiluvsyn i cant believe i met you!!!

y/n.y/ln OMG!!!

matthew.sturniolo red suits you

y/n.y/ln huh crazy… it suits you too

userlovesferrari OMG DID MATT AND Y/N MEET!?????

y/n.sturniolo22 MY WORLDS ARE COLLIDING AHH!

a story by rcklessheavn

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ series link

⋆˙⟡ tag list

⤷ authors note: see i didnt think this was going to be this long but OH WELL! i guess chapters are just gonna get longer and longer... but dont quote me on that!!!! enjoy <3 and thank you so so much for the love this story is getting so far <333

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