#i think there was more i wanted to say but i forgot so

[keferon]

Chapter 2 of Blurr storyline >:D

“Actually” says Swerve ”I'm an alien.”

“Heh” giggles Blurr ”sorry, my head is all cloudy, I thought you said you were an alien.”

Part one

Holy shit I actually managed to finish it…..Oh. My god.

Under the cut⤵️

Is it stupid to miss someone who doesn't even exist?

Probably yes, but hey, Swerve already has several degrees, might as well get another one. A degree in Stupidity or something. Who cares?

For the first few days after waking up from his coma, he feels like he's going crazy. Everybody has realistic dreams, right? The ones where you can scrutinize every angle, memorize every face and smell and sound. The ones that make you lie still for a while after waking up, grasping at every thing you can. Trying to memorize everyone you meet, imprint them in your head.

Because apart from your mind, they don't exist anywhere else. So that's your only way to keep them.

It never works. Obviously. Details slip away. Impressions fade. Just a couple days, and you won't be able to recall anything but the main events from memory.

Wait, hell, not days. Cycles.

His life is a weird, pathetic, fantastical circus. Earth term. Heh. There are no circuses on Cybertron, haha!

But Swerve remembers. And the word circus, and the smell of asphalt, and rains that were made of water not acid. Remembers the English language. Can speak it fluently, even if you wake him up in the middle of the night.

Remembers his work schedule and remembers which company makes the best details. And Tailgate with his bright blue uniform and Wheeljack with his endless experiments and Swindle with his expensive coat and of course...yeah, no, don't think of Blurr, don't think of Blurr, don't. Don't.

He'd heard about it. Read about it, too. Mechs waking up from comas and doing wild things. Some forgot how to speak at all, some gained a new skill, some lived a whole life while they slept.

Articles tell Swerve, don't worry, what you've experienced isn't unique. The doctor tells Swerve that the same thing has happened to others before you, it will be okay, it will pass.

Swerve isn't sure he wants it to pass.

He's been in a coma for who knows how long. The medic said it was caused by an internal trauma that decided to suddenly get worse. One minute he's recharging , the next he's gone. Internal injuries are insidious.

So it turns out. One day he just disappeared from the world because he was busy slowly dying in his room and no one noticed until a thief tried to sneak in. The only one who came to him was a Mech who wanted to steal his stuff. Huh.

That feels revolting. Swerve liked to think he had enough friends. Or at least enough good connections. Enough those who should have noticed his absence, right?

Apparently not. His shifts at work were reassigned, his contacts never texted him first, his...

His small persona wasn't important enough for anyone to notice his disappearance.

Would his human coworkers notice? Would Tailgate have noticed? Or Jazz? Swindle?

Jazz would have noticed, he was always surprisingly attentive when it came to his friends. And he was friends with just about everybody.

Swindle would probably get upset about the money he'd lost.

It's amazing how much his brain-- wait, no, his processor. How much his processor could create to entertain him. It's a more elaborate world than the most complex series Swerve has ever known. And that scrap had forty-six seasons and fifteen encyclopedias!

People, Earth, a bunch of new languages and rules and all for the sake of the end being like, OOPS! ...it was all a dream. Hilarious. Worst plot twist ever. Swerve hates it when stories go in this direction even more than when they kill off their characters.

In his humble opinion, death is better than the revelation that none of the experiences made sense or had any value. In terms of writing scripts obviously. Haha.

He's busy roaming haphazardly through his own memory. He's looking, comparing, trying to find inconsistencies or things that don't make sense. All the stuff that usually gives away the fact that what happened was a dream.

Most of his memories are occupied by--No. Frag.

Don't think about Blurr, don't think about Blurr, don't think..

He's thinking about Blurr. A lot.

Blurr occupies a surprisingly important role in his comatose dreams.

In the time he spent just looking at him, you could hand-build an entire Mech. Maybe even three. Swerve remembers picking up every bit of merch he could reach with his paycheck. Watching hundreds of videos and buying every new themed drink even if it was a flavor he didn't like.

Then spent a surprising amount of time resenting Blurr for not living up to his fantasies.

Blurr's behavior hadn't helped either, of course, but now, looking back at the past himself Swerve thinks that.. Oh wow. You weren't just annoyed at him. You blamed him for ruining your beautiful fantasy. You were having so much fun entertaining yourself with thoughts of this marvelous image, and he came along and corrupted it. Poisoned the well you drank joy from.

But that's not quite true, Swerve thinks.

Blurr was more complicated than that. But exactly how, he'll never know. All he has are his memories, and those memories are cut short at the most interesting point.

Swerve knows this plot twist. The asshole character that no one loves at the last second turns out to not be what everyone thought, but it's too late.

Oh no, he's not an evil jerk, he's actually traumatized. Oh no, he wasn't bad, he was actually secretly helping everyone. You thought he was awful? Well now you're going to feel awful reading fanfics.

Serevus Spayne didn't actually betray the main character's dad, no no, he was in love with him! Bam. Drama.

Swerve isn't a big fan of this stuff. He likes his characters developed properly. But he can't deny the appeal of a character leaving behind a bunch of questions you thought you knew the answer to.

Uggh.

The doctor was wrong. These thoughts don't go away. These memories don't dull.

Swerve just boils in them, constantly getting stuck in his own head. Sometimes he puts English words into his speech and everyone looks at him strangely. Sometimes he reflexively says some inside joke and no one gets it and he's left standing there with an awkward smile. Because. Guys, you don't understand, if my coworkers were here they'd think it's hilarious. I promise, in my fantasy world, it's funny.

When he gets a job on one of the Autobot ships, he accepts it thinking it might be a good distraction from his thoughts.

When he happens to see Prowl with a tiny human on his shoulder in the corridor of that ship, he thinks he's lost his mind.

The whole thing. The whole load-bearing structure on which his picture of the world has been held suddenly gives a lurch. Living your life in a super realistic dream is wild, but meeting a character from your dream in real life??

Freaking cursed.

Jazz looks puzzled by his reaction, but all Swerve can think about are two things.

One, if Jazz is here, does that mean everything else was real, too???

Two - holy shit, Jazz is tiny.

It never occurred to him. But he didn't really know what size humans were. Well, sure, he could measure it in numbers. But he was among humans himself. And about the same size. He was generally even shorter than most of them.

If Jazz is so small, he can't imagine how tiny Tailgate would be. Or--

He can feel his spark freeze. In fact, he can almost hear the sound of a string breaking in his processor. Does that mean Blurr is real too? Real and just as tiny and currently dead? Because Swerve was there but was too convinced it was all just a dream to help?

He's going to get sick.

He needs to talk to Jazz right now.

____________

Swerve taps his fingers nervously on the countertop. Come on. You're good at talking. Talking is your greatest skill. All you have to do is tell someone else about your comatose hallucinations and hope they don't think you're crazy.

They're sitting at a table at the bar. More specifically Swerve and Prowl are sitting at the table, and Jazz is sitting right on the table. (God he's so small).

“So uh. I got injured a while back and...uh...well, it got worse, turned out important systems were affected and I kind of. I was in a coma. For a really long time.”

Jazz frowns

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

He speaks in a mildly wonky Common, Swerve notes to himself. He waves his servo a little too cheerfully in response.

“'Ay it's no big deal really. I saw a whole other world while I was asleep and like. See, I thought it was just my fantasies, but it seemed very real and...”

Swerve mentally crosses his fingers.

“And it was about this planet called Earth and about people who were building their own inanimate huge robots to fight huge aliens and their boss wanted to launch Mechs into space, so he picked the best of the pilots named Jazz and sent him on this test mission and...”

Jazz looks at him with huge eyes before switching to English in surprise.

“Mech, what the hell?”

“...And we lost him...” finishes Swerve with a sad smile.

Before thinking for a bit, and adding.

“I'm going to show you a trick I can do.”

And then projects his holoform onto the table in front of him.

This. It's weird. Not in a way that would tilt it in the direction of unnatural. More like walking around in his comfy indoor pajamas right in the middle of the street. Being human is familiar to him, but being human amongst huge Cybertronians? Strange. And a little creepy.

Prowl looks confused.

Jazz looks absolutely frantic.

“SWERVE????”

Swerve doesn't even manage to respond, only to smile in relief before Jazz rakes him into his arms. In his holoform, Jazz feels right again. He's taller than Swerve and oh boy, he's alive and unharmed. To think everyone thought he was dead, staying up nights trying to find what was left of him, and he was on the other side of the universe the whole time?

Swerve chuckles into Jazz's shoulder. Then picks him up and spins him around a couple times just because he needs something to get his energy out. Man, it's nice to hug people. Warm and soft, eight out of ten.

Jazz pulls away but still stays standing very close. Swerve can literally see the happy stars in his eyes.

“Dude, I'm not complaining but what...how???? You just kinda..."

Swerve laughs and twitches his eyebrows playfully.

“I still speak English, you don't have to torture yourself with Common.”

“Oh thank fuck.” Jazz throws his hands up dramatically “you're my favorite person right now.”

There is a polite click of the vocalizer resetting above their heads.

“I” Prowl says “very glad you two are happy but I'd like some explanation”

Swerve presses his head into his shoulders guiltily. Prowl has the unique ability to always sound like you've done something wrong in front of him.

Although Jazz doesn't seem to feel the same way?

“Short version - I sleepwalked my holoform to another planet.”

He pauses dramatically.

“The long version is...”

Jazz raises his hand

“What's a holoform?”

Swerve sighs.

“It's a holographic avatar that I can project using a holomatter generator. Sort of like a remote controlled game character.”

Jazz whistles impressed. And then immediately turns back to Prowl

“Have you been able to do that all this time too?“

Prowl hums

“I can create an avatar, but it takes a lot of practice to make it at least believable. And to fully perceive the world through it takes even more. It's a whole new technology. What Swerve does is essentially an art form. Sophisticated and impressively detailed may I add.”

Swerve shrugs shyly. He's still using the holoform to stand on the table next to Jazz. Looking up to speak to Prowl isn't exactly comfortable, but Jazz definitely looks like he's been missing the human presence. Swerve isn't human, but he might as well be.

“Thank you. Yes! Uh. Anyway, it seems while I was in a coma my processor projected my avatar onto Earth and I...let's just say I lived there for a while.”

Jazz laughs

“Dude. So you're telling me you were basically sleepwalking the whole time?”

“ I was.”

Prowl frowns.

“But the range limit of the holomatter generator is only four hundred miles...”

“.... I had a lot of practice...”

Jazz claps his hands.

“You learned a whole other language! Got an ID!. You had a job!!!”

“I got carried away,” Swerve admits.

Jazz scratches the back of his head, still looking very amused

“How many degrees did you get? Haha wait no, I have a better question, did you pass your driver's license?”

“Two. And I failed my driver's exam.”

“Dude you are literally a car without a driver's license!” collapses Jazz on the table with laughter.

Swerve blows the hair out of his face

“Says you who retook the physical several times. You couldn't pass the "being human" exam.”

Jazz just wheezes incoherently in response. Prowl looks alarmed.

“Don't worry, that's him getting excited. So...where have I been...”

Swerve nervously shoves his hands into his pockets

“...Do either of you two know where Earth is?”

Prowl twitches his door wings

“No. Since Jazz was teleported we don't have much clues.”

Swerve grimaces. Scrap. Of course nothing's going to be that easy. He's also been, like,....teleported.

He stands there for a couple minutes and just feels fifteen different emotions rise up in his head at once. A crooked, unsteady smile creeps across his face.

He's thinking.

Oh hell, yeah! I knew it wasn't a dream!

Then he remembers the mess he left behind.

Oh, no, it wasn't a dream.

Jazz puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Swer... Swerve? Dude, are you okay?”

“Ah frag..” Swerve says weakly ”it wasn't a dream.”

Jazz looks...puzzled.

“Is that bad?”

Swerve remembers his friends. Remembers the Mecha program. Remembers fire and smoke and screams and rumbling and crackling flames. Ashes flying through the air and the smell of burnt wires. He remembers blood and debris and...

“It's...complicated.”

This wasn't just a stupid plot twist he'd dreamed up because he'd watched too many shows. This wasn't a hallucination or a disembodied fantasy that just happened to linger in his head. This was real. His friends exist out there somewhere. His work and his collections and his little apartment...

And Blurr. Was real. Or still is? Swerve doesn't know. Blurr wasn't a product of his imagination. He was real and what he did was real and Swerve left him there alone, bleeding and trapped in rubble and tiny and...

Hahahahah oh fUCK.

He doesn't like this plot. It's too much. Too much to handle, too complicated, too ambiguous.

It's also probably too late.

But he can't leave it like this, right? Blurr went into the damn burning building just because of the possibility that there might be someone alive in there.

And Swerve doesn't even have to go through the flames. He has to look. He has to try at least.

Jazz glares at him with a worried look on his face

“ That expression you have...”

Swerve puts the smile back on his face.

“I need to get to Earth.”

___________________

Swerve is not an idiot.

Or maybe more accurately an idiot, but with several degrees.

He's well aware that finding Earth in space with only a description of it is impossible. Which leaves him with two options.

Ask the Quintessons. Or look for it himself.

The first sounds like death. The second like coma. Swerve has exquisite enough taste to know which is better.

He just needs to do some preliminary reserch.....

Jazz, now back inside his Mech looks doubtful.

“You're not going to die suddenly and for no reason, are you?”

Swerve laughs.

“Pfffff what, no of course not, would I kill myself hah. No no, look I'll just put myself in stasis for a bit. Send myself to Earth. And try to figure out where it is from there. Get the coordinates. If I'm lucky, I can see what Space Bridge the local Quintessons use. All you'll have to do is wake me up after a while.”

“It's not harmful?”

Swerve makes an uncertain gesture with his hand...servo.

“If I have enough fuel. And an additional connection to an external generator.”

Jazz tilts his head

“ Why are you so eager to get to Earth? Don't get me wrong, I miss it too and want to go back, but.”

Swerve bites his knuckles.

“ I have some unfinished business?”

“Pshhhh you sound like a ghost.”

Swerve only laughs in response.

_______________

Concentration is tricky.

Swerve tries to think about Earth. And not to think about the fact that he doesn't know where it is. If he's already been there once, he might as well go there again yes? In theory? Perhaps?

Except for the possibility that his sleepwalking just takes him to random planets. That would be very inconvenient. It would be a whole new level of lost

Shit. No. Earth. Think Earth.

What's he even gonna do when he gets there? How far away is it? Swerve is very talented with his holomatter generator, but if it's really far away... maybe he should reset some settings.

He mentally starts going through his options. Does he need tangibility? Probably not. Come to think of it, it would only make him more vulnerable and take a lot of energy. Yeah, the tangibility has to go. What else? Touch, too. Sight and hearing should stay, that's not even a question, but colors and textures are not really necessary.

The amount of detail and picture quality can be reduced as well. His holoform will become colorless and grainy and will probably ripple with static, but he'll survive it.

After he finishes making changes to his holoform he thinks about his old stuff left in his house. Then about the posters. Then reminds himself that he needs to focus on the goal or he'll never find Blurr and...oh FUCK his phone! Where was his phone when he disappeared? Was it found?? There were so many personal things on that phone, he's hoping the phone was burned under the rubble. Either that or the arriving investigators will find his browser history and he'll go into another coma from pure embarrassment.

He blinks dazedly when he realizes he has loads of rocks in front of his eyes. Oh..Did he screw up? Did he end up on the wrong planet? Is it a cave or--

Then he notices the odd shape of the “rocks” and. Oh, no. It's not a cave. It's charred concrete debris.

This is the place where he was last.

He hastily looks around. Anxiety creeps up the back of his neck, makes him feel like something slippery and cold is crawling over his skin. There is nothing but ruins all around.

Blurr is not here. The place where his Mech was lying is empty.

Which means he was at least found and dragged out. Dead or alive.

Swerve's bites his knuckles. Okay.

All right.

He's got things to do.

_______________

He's trying to stay out of sight. Which isn't hard, considering he's just a hologram. At first, he just sneaks around in the quiet areas. Then proceeds to do a facepalm and start teleporting. Think, Swerve. Did you read all those comic books for nothing? Superheroes who couldn't really use their superpowers creatively always annoyed him. And he does, in fact, have a superpower. Gotta get creative, right?

He stops and looks at himself again. His holoform is going static and is a dull white color. He thinks for a bit, and then shrinks himself. Thinks some more, and makes himself almost transparent. There's no way he could pass as a normal human right now, so he'd better just do his best to avoid being seen by anyone.

He looks around thoughtfully. Hmm. Even if he's going to be absolutely tiny, he needs to make sure no one sees him, otherwise the whole base will think the Quintessons are now spying on them through holograms or something.

Breaking the rules feels...it's exciting.

All his ..human life here he hadn't thought about it, but if he threw away the rules he was used to about what people could or couldn't do...

He looks up in a sudden rush of sly genius. All people look under their feet when they walk, but how many look up? And how many of them notice the barely visible tiny holoform hiding just behind the blinding lamps?

The answer is probably none.

Swerve projects himself onto the ceiling and mentally pats himself on the shoulder for his impressive intellectual accomplishments. A creativity degree should definitely be a thing.

A degree in spying on the Quintessons' ships wouldn't hurt him either.

Fortunately sneaking onto their ship turns out not to be that difficult. Swerve makes himself absurdly tiny and hides in the darkest corners that no one would ever think to look into. Why hasn't anyone thought of using holoforms for spying before? Could he be the first to think of it? He doesn't know, but he mentally decides to patent the idea.

Finding the Space Bridge is surprisingly easy. The local Quintesson fleet is clearly used to being the dominant force in space. And that's generally logical. Even if humanity collects a mountain of money from somewhere to throw a dozen Mechs into space - there will be thousands of monsters waiting for them. In such a situation, you don't have to hide, the guards are enough.

Well done, well done, don't hide, Swerve thinks, copying the coordinates and address of the space bridge to himself. You have absolutely nothing to fear here, he thinks, so stay where you are and don't move. Please and thank you.

Once the coordinates are obtained, he... has some freedom to explore. And he uses it for probably the most boring-sounding thing in the world. He returns to his usual workplace.

It’s simple. As damning as the Mecha program was, Swerve loved his job in it. He loved his position in the assembly shop. And he missed his friends.

He quickly teleports through several rooms, continuing to hide close to the lamps. Tailgate is here. Alive and unharmed. Wheeljack is too, though his face has some scars added to it. It's great to see them again, even if he can't talk to them right now. No one will probably react well to a grainy unexplainable hologram. He's just glad to know they're okay and honestly, the last thing he needs is paranoid Onslaught installing extra signal jammers.

It takes time to find Blurr. Partly because Swerve is terrified of what he might find if he started looking. So he goes to check the death lists first, and only after flipping through and re-reading them three times does he finally exhale in relief.

Blurr's name isn't there.

So his smug, shiny ass must be around here somewhere.

He checks the hangar. Flips through the Mech launch logs and feels an uncomfortable knot begin to form in his chest. Blurr's Mech has never been repaired or launched even once since the incident. Its plating has been replaced with new, well polished, and put in a prominent place where anyone who wants to can take a picture of it. But all the internal systems are destroyed. This machine hasn't been used for anything other than being a beautiful exhibit.

That's...something's wrong.

He checks offices and schedules as well as eavesdropping on a few conversations and ends up secretly following Swindle, who is arguing loudly with someone on the phone. He says something about deals and how he doesn't need anyone meddling in his business. Then he talks about how he's got everything under control and the person on the phone is “a dumbass who's making drama out of nothing” and that “he doesn't need anyone's handouts". Then he sighs and says, “you know how celebs are. Dumb and dramatic. You can't take their words literally.”

Then drops the call and for a couple seconds looks like he's just had a large bill taken right out of his hand. Curses again, but in a quieter voice. Leafs through his contacts and stops at the one signed 'free ice'.

“Blurr? Where are you? Wha...ah, no wait. No, the advertising agency called. No, liste...Can you shut up for one second?Where are you?

Uh-huh....... Uh-huh.Okay.

Give me half an hour...okay, yeah.”

This is it, Swerve thinks.

He shrinks himself further and teleports under the collar of Swindle's coat.

He wants to take a look. Just. Just a peek. Make sure everything's all right. Then he can go about his original mission in peace. He watches Swindle get in his car and drive off somewhere. Swerve doesn't recognize this part of town. The houses here are much nicer than where he lived. The streets are cleaner.

He tucks himself further under the coat collar. He's not going to be a stalker or anything, but he's worried and he doesn't have time to wait for Blurr himself to show up for work. Just one little look and that's it.

Swindle's car stops outside a beautiful, shiny hospital. Swerve nervously tries to bite his knuckles, but remembers he's disabled touch in his holoform. Shit? Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shi

Blurr looks like a mangled corpse.

Okay, not really. His left side that faces the door to the hospital room looks like a mangled corpse and that's the first thing that catches Swerve's eye when he's inside.

Blurr is pale and thin and his hands are covered in bandages. The left side of his face has been turned into an absolute ugly nightmare. A piece of his ear is missing. In the place of the left eye is a creepy empty hole.

Suddenly Swerve realizes why Blurr didn't show up for work. You can't even show him to his coworkers like that, not just to the public.

Blurr turns his head and the spell breaks. His lips stretch into a cocky smile.

“'Got bored without me Swindle?”

Swindle doesn't show the slightest emotion at the gruesome sight. He casually pulls a chair over to the hospital bed and sits down.

“Shockwave is trying to sneak a new project into the program. And he's slowly swaying investors to his side, using you as an excuse. Tells everyone you're a poor martyr he can save if only he's given the green light from above.”

Blurr wrinkles his nose.

“Not that he's wrong. The doctors say I need to pick a new career because with this...” he jerks his head to the left implying his damaged half, ” neither racing nor piloting is an option for me anymore. I'm out of your project.”

Then he stops talking for a few seconds and raises an eyebrow curiously.

“You wouldn't have come here in person just to say that. Why are you really here?”

Swindle adjusts his glasses

“Have I ever told you why I made the contract with you?”

“Because you like money” Blurr says without hesitation.

Swindle lets out a quiet chuckle.

“Fair point. But money wasn't my only priority.”

He pauses for a second. Gets up. Draws the curtains in the room. Checks to make sure no one is outside the door.

Goes back to his seat.

“You didn't see what the Mecha project was like before. Brutality and absolute disregard for human rights multiplied by a thousand. People were desperate and no one cared to maintain any decency.”

He raises his hand when Blurr rushes to say something.

“No no, listen to me. If you think things are bad now, you're right. But it used to be much. Much, much worse.”

Swindle sighs and adjusts his glasses again

“Vortex was taken as a boy. He wasn't even out of high school when they shoved him into the lab. Me and Onslaught were pulled right out of the college exams. The others were no better, although they were usually a little older. My point is that it was allowed. It's what the superiors could do and no one told them no.”

Blurr tilts his head and gets a little all turned around to see Swindle better with his right eye.

“But you... found a way to change that, didn't you?

Swindle rubs the bridge of his nose

“I have no power over my own superiors. But Onslaught and I have come up with a plan. Look. I'll put it in simple terms for you. Above me is my boss, and above him is another boss, and so on but at the very end of that chain are people from the government. The investors. So we figured out a way to cut through the chain of command and influence them directly. Make them worry about us. It's a kind of social shield. Onslaught is a genius.”

Blurr blinks.

“Why are you telling me all this.”

Swindle takes off his hat and just. Crumples it in his hands. The back of his head shows numerous scars and the glint of tiny metal implants barely visible behind his hair.

“You're that shield right now, Blurr. You can't leave.”

Blurr's eye widens

“Is that why you insisted on ‘befriending’ me with all those bullshitters?”

“I needed to make sure that in their minds we weren't just a military unit. To keep them thinking that we're as human as they are. So I gave Project Mecha a face.” He tugs on the hat again, “Your face.”

Blurr runs his fingers through his hair

“Shockwave can't do whatever he wants cause...because of me his efforts would risk going public and people wouldn't like it and it would ruin the reputation of our investors-and-they'd-cut-off-his-funding.”

Swindle puts his hat back on.

“Exactly.’ That's why he's being so persistent right now. He knows you're vulnerable and he wants to capitalize on the opportunity. Make you part of his new project and tell the world about it. Make publicity his weapon, too.”

The lamp above them flickers faintly. Blurr takes a breath. Long and tired and exhausted and. a bit doomed.

Swindle puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Please. Don't leave. At least not now. And don't let Shockwave get to you. That would open the way for him to get to the rest of the pilots you represent.”

They just. Sit in silence for a while. Blurr quickly taps a finger on his knee. A rapid tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.

Swindle moves his hand away and gets up from his chair.

“There's a press conference coming up. I need you to be there. I've told everyone who needs to know that the problem is exaggerated and you're fine but they need to see you.”

Blurr smiles sourly.

“My lawyer is going to charge you such a handsome sum for that stunt.”

Swindle laughs, but his cardboard advertising smile doesn't reach his eyes.

“We’ll see about that. Seriously though. I need you there.”

Blurr bites his lip.

“I..don’t know...”

Swerve...doesn't know what to think of that.

Blurr shows up for the press conference. Late, but he makes it. Just as Shockwave is presenting his new project in his amazingly well-pitched voice. Blurr swings the door open and waltzes lazily inside, skillfully pretending not to notice the many cameras and eyes instantly directed at him.

Swerve, whose memory is still fresh thinks for a second that no, no this can't be the same person. Past Blurr looked like a wreck. Past Blurr was tense and tired and hunched over. Present Blurr couldn't look more alive. His shoulders are squared proudly, there's that cheerful springiness and grace in his stride. He moves with ease and confidence. Smoothly.

The left side of his face is neatly covered with fresh white bandages. Carefully, without leaving the even the slightest gap through which his injury could be seen. His hands are hidden under a fancy jacket. He smiles wide and bright and squints playfully toward the table.

The very embodiment of nonchalance. The few pilots sitting in the audience roll their eyes.

Swindle breathes out a barely perceptible sigh of relief. Swerve, once again using Swindle's collar as a tactical cover, can't help but let out a silent triumphant laugh. Maybe slightly more nervous than he is supposed to be.

Blurr sends Swindle a sly, sharp smile and even knowing it wasn't meant for him, Swerve feels his cheeks heat up.

Ah, damn it.

Swerve breaks the rules. He tells himself that peeking is fraught with consequences when it comes to military organizations, but he can't stop himself from being curious. And from worry, too.

And now that he knows where to look, he sees things he'd rather not see.

Blurr ... is crumbling.

Swerve doesn't know all the details and consequences, but that incident did leave a mark.

But every time Swindle calls him and says “I need you at some place in two hours” he gets up and assembles himself into a human being. Like a goddamn puzzle. Tapes and covers the burned half of his face. Covers up the bruises and hides the stitches. Fixes his hair and sets off on shaky legs to pretend he's fine.

He smiles so bright and carefree, laughs so sweet and beautiful that no one would ever think that even standing up sometimes hurts.

And continues to act like a jerk of course.

The only difference is that this time Swerve mentally gives him the presumption of innocence before he starts judging.

Blurr does a lot of things that seem rude. He also does a lot of things that are actually rude and figuring them out without resorting to alien superpowers would be nearly impossible.

When the pilots see Blurr sitting right on the table while negotiating with investors, they roll their eyes and make comments about his terrible manners. Or when he stops showing up for even the most basic, rudimentary training.

Or when he develops that stupid habit of leaning his elbows on people standing next to him.

It's the model behavior of a rich, spoiled brat.

It's also an inconspicuous way to stay upright.

Employees say “that dumbass has never heard of personal space.”

Investors say, “I think he likes me.”

Blurr leans on Swindle's shoulder and through a charming smile says “Don't move or I'm gonna fall.”

Swindle also keeping up the smile discreetly holds him back, pretending it's a friendly half hug.

Swerve feels like yelling at both of them, but he's not sure what for exactly. For one thing, Blurr in his condition is very VERY VERY contraindicated to even get out of bed, let alone participate in social activities.

On the other hand, without Blurr, everything is going down the pit.

Without Blurr, all the government sees are dry reports and spreadsheets. Without him, all the high command has is numbers and a sense of impunity. Swerve is sickened by how easily people tend to forget that numbers represent other people.

Most pilots are able to draw a parallel between deteriorating working conditions and Blurr's sudden fondness for staying home instead of working. But they think the rich jerk got scared and ran away. Considering the way Blurr has always behaved at work - Swerve can't even judge them too much for it. They assume Shockwave getting more freedom is the cause of Blurr's absence, not the result.

Blurr's influence only becomes noticeable when it slowly starts to fade away. It's like switching from expensive tea to a cheaper one. The awful flavor only becomes noticeable in contrast.

Blurr doesn't lead the development of new technologies or go out to fight in the field. He doesn't make plans and reports, he doesn't participate in drills, he doesn't cover anyone's back in battle.

But he's the one who puts his hand on the government's shoulders when they're about to sign the next piece of paper. He's the one they have to look in the eye before they have a pen in their hands and a document authorizing Shockwave to stick more needles in people's brains.

It makes a difference. Small one. But still.

It turns a disembodied imaginary “combat units” into a tangible person.

From “do you want to accelerate the combat training of new soldiers” to “are you willing to tell the living, breathing guy standing in front of you that shoving poison under his skin is an idea you approve of.”

More importantly (And Swerve actually admires Swindle for this) Will you be able to explain anything to your families later on, when this same guy is on TV all over the country saying that's what you did to him?

There have been two fronts here all this time, Swerve realizes.

While the pilots were protecting people from monsters wearing teeth and armor, Blurr was protecting the pilots themselves from monsters wearing ties and lab coats.

After another conference, Shockwave stops Blurr in the hallway.

“Good show.”

Blurr laughs. Soundly and proudly.

“Thanks darling~ Sorry I interrupted you. Your speech sounded like something important, but I don't really know much about nerd stuff.”

Swerve, hiding on the ceiling again, snorts.

Shockwave doesn't move. Doesn't give any indication at all if he's offended or upset or whatever.

“It must have been hard getting here with your injuries.”

Blurr shrugs and lazily turns his head around distracted.

“It's just a few bruises here and there. Not the end of the world.”

Shockwave nods slowly. His voice and posture and all, Swerve thinks, looking very uncomfortable.

“Of course it isn't. But hardly good for your career.”

Blurr freezes.

No, Swerve thinks. Shit. No, don't listen to him, don't listen to him, don't listen to him, don't

“Your brilliant achievements have always been a source of admiration to me” continues Shockwave “it would be a pity to lose them.”

Blurr makes an indifferent face and tucks his hands into his pockets.

“Like I said. Not the end of the world.”

Swerve imagines choking Shockwave. Dropping a lamp on his head. Maybe jumping on top of him himself. Shut up, he thinks. Shut up, shut up, stop fucking talking.

Shockwave with a nice, slow gesture pulls out a notebook from somewhere and flips a couple pages.

“Multiple burns, cracked ribs, poisoning from carbon monoxide and combustion products of toxic chemicals...”

Blurr visibly shivers and looks away.

“...loss of vision on one side...” Shockwave continues reading, ”and partial hearing loss. Finally, the impact of neural link malfunctions. And this, if I'm not mistaken, is on top of the already existing memory problems?”

Shockwave takes a step closer. Not fast enough to make it look threatening, but enough to hover.

“It may not be the end of the world, but it is the end of you.”

He writes a set of numbers on the same page, tears it off, and hands it to Blurr.

“You are broken. I can fix you.”

Blurr frowns, but takes the piece of paper.

“That fixing would involve giving you consent to mess around with my head, wouldn't it? It's brave of you to think I'd go for that.”

Shockwave tucks the notepad into his pocket.

“I can assure you, neither I nor anyone else is interested in your brain. I just want to give you back what you're truly valued for.”

Blurr flinches.

“I don't need your help.”

“ If you say so,” Shockwave agrees easily. Nods, slowly and smoothly. Then starts to walk away “But you do need your fame.”

...

“By the way, you might want to wipe the blood off.”

Blurr waits until Shockwave's back disappears around the corner, then quickly pulls a tissue from his pocket and brings it up to his nose.

____________________________

Swerve wakes up looking up at the ceiling of his room. The high, metal ceiling, of a metal room on a metal spaceship.

Holy shit...

Jazz pokes him gently on the forearm

“Are you alive? You've been gone for like quite a while...Did it work?”

“Hey Jazz” frowns Swerve “what do you know about Blurr?”

Jazz laughs

“What are you fanboying over him again? Still??? Dude's smug and arrogant. Good boss though. I was hired to perform at his parties before I became a pilot.”

Swerve sits up and rubs the back of his head.

“Ah...”

“So it worked?”

“Wha...ah! Yes! Yes, it worked! I managed to get the number and codes from the space bridge the Quints used on you. We just need to find another space bridge and we'll have a pretty much direct route to Earth...well. Or rather, to the Quint ship that's located near Earth. You get the idea.”

Jazz rubs his hands together happily.

“I'll take it.”

Swerve jumps to the floor and heads to grab an energon cube. Man, these holoform exercises are burning energy like crazy.

He stares at his metal hands like an idiot for a couple minutes. Just...Contemplates how non-human they are.

He has eight fingers again instead of the human ten. Huh.

Prowl downloads the information he's gotten and immediately runs off to plan a route to the nearest working space bridge and for a while Swerve is just.

Left to himself.

He tries not to think about Blurr. What would he even say to him? Hey, look, I'm sorry I accidentally set you up, see, I'm actually an alien who was sleepwalking and thought you were fictional, surely this won't affect our non-existent strictly professional working relationship? Nah, screw that. If he's going to sound crazy, he needs to at least come up with a good presentation for his insanity.

....

Is it weird to think humans are beautiful if you're not human? If you're kind of human, but only in your soul and only half human?

He looks at Jazz and Prowl.

“You two get along really well.”

Jazz chuckles, sitting on Prowl's shoulder.

“Right now, yes. But we got on each other's nerves quite a bit when we first met.”

Swerve looks up at Jazz's chattering legs from his height and thinks. This is working somehow.

On the other hand, Jazz is the exception rather than the rule. He's friendly with everyone, he's easy to get along with, he's the soul of any company and most importantly, he was a little too much into robots before he discovered they could be alive. If anyone could find common ground with the Cybertronians, it would definitely be Jazz.

_____________________

”Are you a ghost?”

Swerve shrieks in fear and gets covered in static. He hadn't planned on talking. He hadn't planned on being noticed at all. Blurr was supposed to be asleep! And Swerve just wanted to close the curtains and leave, because there's some noisy party going on outside and bright illuminations are very bad for a patient already suffering from neural connection withdrawal.

He freezes in place like that dude from Jurassic Park. Like if he's still enough, he won't be noticed. Oh, or was that from another movie?

“I'm just uh” he awkwardly reaches up and closes the curtains “Lights. Bad for...you...now.”

Blurr chuckles. It sounds suspiciously joyful. His whole posture and facial expression. He looks very relaxed for someone who had a ghost materialize into the room out of thin air.

Swerve traces the line of the IV with his gaze. Oops, that looks like painkillers.

“Yes I am. Uh. A ghost watching the curtains. And now the curtains are fine, so I guess I'd better go?”

Blurr squints amusedly.

“You can walk through walls?”

“Uh, I can teleport into the next room?”

He backs up his words by making himself disappear and reappear in another corner of the room.

“Cool!” says Blurr cheerfully.

Swerve is involuntarily infected by his mood and makes a couple dramatic bows as if he were some kind of magician.

“ Show me more?”

“Hehehe okay eh” Swerve spreads his arms like he's presenting something and then makes himself the size of a soda bottle and teleports to the edge of Blurr's bed “Ta daaaa~”

“Wooooo look at you, you're like an action figure~”

Blurr immediately makes an attempt to touch him, but fails to reach and drops his hand back on the blanket.

Swerve chuckles and steps closer. It's funny to see the usually incredibly agile Blurr struggling with something so simple and ridiculous.

“They really drugged you huh?”

“It's not the drugs” snorts Blurr ”...it's my eye.”

He raises his hand once more and hesitantly pulls it towards Swerve until it bumps into his hair

“... depths Per…percen.. ah, shit. I can't tell how far away things are.”

Swerve just. Lets Blurr fidget at himself, while starting to feel really bad at the same time.

"If you can't tell how far things are, how are you going to drive?

Race???”

He must have a plan right? Something? Let’s-prove-Shockwave-wrong tactic???

Blurr drops his hands back on the blanket

“I won't.”

He freezes when the all too close fireworks rumble outside the window. Then points to his head.

“With this. I can't drive, I can barely walk at all, and I look like horror movie material. Pathetic heeh.”

Swerve sits down quietly cross-legged on the blanket.

“Well...at least you're alive....”

Blurr shakes his head.

“If I had died, it would have been epic. You know? Dharm...dramatic! It would be big news and everyone would be talking about what a hero I was or...or something...”

“...”

“Swindle would be so angry, but he'd figure out a way to make money out of it. He'd make a commercial about how people should be heroes. I'd be remn..remembered for being cool and brave and stuff.”

Fireworks can be heard from the street again. Swerve notices that there is a thin slit between the closed curtains through which a slim, flickering strip of multicolored light streams into the room.

Blurr frowns and leans back against the pillow, looking up at the ceiling.

“I've turned into a boring wreck. My records will be beaten, my career forgotten , and all the guys from work will remember me as a brat. In a--in a--in a way, it's worse than death. Shockwave's right.”

Swerve isn't sure what exactly would be an acceptable gesture of comfort, so he kind of just. Places his hand on the blanket covering Blurr's lap.

“Hey, don't say that. I think what you're doing is great.”

“Liar” smiles Blurr crookedly ”You hated me. I saw your posters collection.”

Oh shit. The ones he ripped off the walls and destroyed in a fit of fan frustration? He didn't even hide them, just shoved them in the back corner. Aw, man...

Swerve folds his arms awkwardly across his chest.

“I can be mad at you and think you're cool at the same time. I'm a multitasker.”

“You're a very specific kind of ghost.” says Blurr. Then, apparently inspired by the painkillers, decides to drop the conversational equivalent of an atomic bomb on Swerve's head “You died because of me?”

Swerve stiffens.

“I...Wwhat?”

“You know.” he makes a gesture with his hand that's ..unclear what it's supposed to mean. “You were working there with everyone else, and then there was that fire and I was sure I saw you down there under the rubble.”

He's silent for a couple seconds before he hesitantly continues

“And then no one could find you so most assumed you either burned or ran away. And now you're here with all your weird ghost stuff, so you must be dead.”

Swerve has.No idea what to think about it. And what to say? He's been so busy blaming himself for Blurr getting hurt that it hasn't occurred to him to think about what it looks like from Blurr's own perspective.

“Actually” says Swerve ”I'm an alien.”

“Heh” giggles Blurr ”sorry, my head’s all cloudy, I thought you said you were an alien.”

Swerve wants to run around and bang his head against the wall.

Instead, he gets up from the hospital bed. Carefully.

“You're high. I'm not going to explain things to you while you're high, you won't understand or remember them. Go back to sleep. It's the middle of the night.”

“You'll tell me later?”

Swerve hums quietly and pulls the curtains all the way closed.

“If future, sober Blurr would want my company.”

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

Jazz looks at him. Very intensely.

“Are you going to tell me who this mystery person you keep coming back to Earth for?”

Swerve snorts.

“What makes you think it's anyone in particular?”

“You're right, you're right~” raises his hands in surrender Jazz “So are you going to tell your friend the whole thing?”

Swerve crosses his ..metal arms over his metal chest.

“Is it that big of a deal? He thinks I'm a ghost or something.”

Being a ghost...somehow better, he thinks. If you're a ghost, it kind of automatically implies you're human. Or was a human.

“Sooner or later, he'll put the facts together~” says Jazz in a chant.

Swerve laughs.

“That's unlikely. He's got a pretty bad memory.”

_______________

His plans to stay out of anyone's sight combust with a dramatic pop the next time he projects himself to Earth. He doesn't plan to interfere, he doesn't even plan to linger. He just wants to see what's going on.

He actually just quietly sneaks into the hospital to make sure nothing's happened to Blurr since last time, but when he finally finds him then...oh shit, is that Pharma in the same room with him??? This can't be good.

They don't speak, but Pharma has clearly locked his eyes on Blurr and starts making his way towards him with the relentlessness of a industrial metal press.

Swerve does some rough math in his head. If he briefly gives his holoform back its detail and voice, will that be enough to fry his processor? He's not sure.

Pharma gives a believable impression of a shark getting close. The staff, as if sensing something untoward is about to happen, leaves the room in a hurry.

Blurr looks indifferent, but Swerve's attention is drawn to the way he squints tensely. Man, the lamps are too bright in here.

Pharma smiles sweetly and reaches out for a handshake

“Mind some company?”

Swerve's mental processes fly out the window. Oh no no. Not Pharma. Not in his fucking fanfic. He quickly changes his work clothes into a slightly more business-like looking shirt. Thinks for just a moment and adds a cap to his head to blend in more strongly with the attendants and hide his face to an extent. And then projects himself around the nearest unoccupied corner and runs out of behind it looking as anxious as he feels.

“Blurr!!! Sir, there you are!!! I've been looking everywhere for you!”

Pharma wants to say something, but Swerve doesn't even let him start. He stands in front of Blurr separating him and Farma expressively waves his hands trying to keep his head down.

“The guys you were talking about didn't bring the new hydraulics! It's a disaster, we'll have to use the one on the old models!”

Blurr, to his surprise, backs up his act almost instantly

“Really? But I thought there was nothing to take from the old models?”

“That's exactly the point! I got the paperwork this morning and...oh those assholes are going to screw it up if you don't step in as soon as possible!”

Pharma tilts his head

“Can it wait? We were actually talking here!”

Oh no, thinks Swerve I'll show you who's talking.

“Sir, no offense but this is a matter of extreme urgency. Are you implying that the safety of your patients is not important?”

“What do you mea...”

“Old faulty hydraulics, that's what you want?” raises an eyebrow in horror Blurr.

“No I'm just...”

“I had a better opinion of you, to be honest.”

“I...” opens his mouth Pharma “...WHAT...?”

Swerve shakes his head.

“And I thought his profession was to help people, can you imagine?”

“Wh..”

Blurr rolls his eye.

“Any idiot can get an important position these days.”

“Wait..”

“Tell me about it. Especially doctors.”

Pharma looks like he's about to start pulling the hair out of his head.

“Can at least one of you shut up??”

Swerve adjusts his cap in a businesslike manner

“Sir, I understand you're a bit detached from reality spending so much time in your department, but you need to take better care of your reputation.”

He raises his eyebrows knowingly

“Wouldn't want the rumors about you to turn out to be true. You know what I mean?”

Pharma doesn't even answer anymore. Pharma just looks like a discarded fish.

“…..Wha....there's rumors?”

“Of course” shrugs Swerve ”Ask Norman, he usually knows everything about everyone. And about your interesting tricks with safety, too.”

He leans in conspiratorially, effectively pulling all of Farma's attention to himself

“So if I were you, I'd stay out of any more things you don't understand.”

Pharma wants to say something. Swerve can tell by the look in his eyes. Pharma tries to come up with a witty and context-appropriate response, but this whole conversation has no more context than a typical episode of Teletubbies.

“Where does this Norman guy work?” finally finds the ground beneath his feet Pharma

Swerve shrugs.

“Block C, if he hasn't been transferred yet. He's already been fined several times for spreading harmful information you know? The guy can't keep a secret.”

Pharma throws his hands up angrily and storms away. Probably looking for context. Or revenge.

A quiet cough sounds behind Swerve's back.

“So. Should I be worried about Norman's health?”

Swerve feels the hair on the back of his neck shiver and slowly turns to face Blurr while still looking somewhere on the floor.

“Uh...only if you're concerned about the fate of fictional characters. I made up Norman's wife, she'll be upset if he gets fired for gossiping.”

Blurr chuckles. Then goes silent. Then, after a couple seconds, starts laughing again. That's a good look for him, Swerve thinks. It's not like Blurr's usual velvet-smooth laugh that he uses at social events. It's more like a quick, jerky giggle, and in Swerve's subjective opinion, it's pretty damn cute. He can't help but grin.

Blurr snorts one last time, cutting off the laughter.

Then he reaches out his hand to him.

Swerve reaches back, expecting a handshake, but Blurr ignores his hand and instead goes for his cap and lifts it by the brim.

Swerve, not expecting this, freezes with his hand outstretched.

Blurr freezes as well, still holding the cap in his hand and looking...like he's rethinking his life. A little.

Ugh, and how to explain it all to him....

“Uh...you...uh...probably don't remember me. I...it's...”

Blurr shifts his gaze from Swerve to the cap in his hand. Then back to Swerve.

“You're real???”

Swerve awkwardly waves his hands in front of him

“Ah not.., not really. Do you know why Pharma was looking for you in the first place? He doesn't work with patients anymore, he's been reassigned to the research department, right?”

Blurr shrugs.

“Last time I saw him, he said I might have implant rejection in the third ..uh..what? stage? or something? I think he's trying to get me in for a checkup.”

Swerve twitches.

“Third??? How are you still standing???”

He then quickly reaches up with both hands to Blurr's head and tilts it so he can see his face better. Using one thumb, he pulls his lower eyelid slightly and mentally catalogs. Temperature normal, pupil normal, eyes are steady, no darkening or trace of blood on the eyelid. Implants? He puts both palms up and gently feels the places behind Blurr's ears. No signs of rejection or malfunction.

“No no no” sighs Swerve ”You're fine, it's only stage two. I mean, second sucks too, migraines and all, but you just need to rest and no bright lights and...” he finally notices his hands are still on Blurr's head and pulls them back as fast as if he's been burned ”I MEAN I'm uh...sorry, I didn't mean to, I...”

Blurr laughs quietly.

“I'm glad you're back.”

_____________________

He wakes up in his quarters and can feel his face burning.

When he goes out to get the energon, Jazz throws him a look.

“Is something wrong? You're all kinda...shaky.”

“Hhhhhhuuuuuuuuuuuu” imitates signs of life Swerve “Say, doesn't it bother you that Prowl isn't human?”

Jazz smiles

“ Oh, I went crazy when I found out. But we figured it out.”

“Like...on a scale from ‘bad grade in school’ to ‘an asteroid is coming to Earth’ how crazy was it?”

“Worried about what your human friends will think?”

Swerve swings back and forth on his heels

“Pfffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff. Whatnooooo, no of course not. I'd be worried if I planned on telling them at all.”

Jazz frowns

“No offense, but keeping secrets isn't your strong suit.”

“Haha” Swerve waves his servo “ Watch me.”

[enhard]

⋆˙⟡ monster | lee heeseung

: when two rivals in an entertainment company turned late-night lovers, no strings attached… or is it something else?

pairing: ceo!l.hs x fem!reader

CW: smut, enemies to fwb to lovers trope??, pwp (3 smut scenes omg), hate sex, age gap: heeseung is 29, reader is 24, usage of condoms, riding, oral sex (both receiving), cum eating, some pet names, insults?, lots of profanity lmk if i missed anything

notes: couldn’t stop thinking about this while listening to monster by gaga. crazycrazy

wc: 7.3k words (MDNI)

There was only one thing you hated more than useless things in your timetable. It was the asshole of the whole company, Lee Heeseung. The more conversations you heard his name in, the more you despised his existence.

His ego was so high it could hit a plane, the way he would talk about his compositions made you wanna throw up. He praised himself so much, and you started wondering if he was just a huge narcissist or if we were insecure of his writing skills. Luckily, you never saw him around often as you were really caught up in your own work. Having to compose songs all the time for singers was not an easy task. Your chairman was an even bigger asshole than Heeseung, always giving you all the work. You had to not only compose songs from start to finish, but you also had to edit and mix the voices, help the singers use the right tones and so much more stuff that wasn’t originally included in your job plan.

Usually, you would stay at the office overtime, your eyes darkened with tiredness. It was a miracle you haven’t fallen asleep all this time.

 You looked at the time,

 [01:54 AM]

“Great.” You sigh. Your shift ended at 12 AM. What the fuck are you still doing here? It’s quiet in the whole building, only clicking sounds can be heard from your keyboard. You’re all alone with a few bodyguards left in the company. You groan, your head pounding from the intense light of your pc. All you want now is to get back to your apartment just to greet your cat Juno.  He’s your only best friend in this cursed city of New York, he’s a soft and fluffy black and white cat, with heterochromia eyes, left eye blue and right eye brown. You talk to him all the time, even though he can’t hold conversations he’s the best listener you’ve ever encountered. Better than your ex-boyfriends, that’s for sure.

As the clock reads [02:29], you’re more than ready to go home. You gather all your things, wish a great night to all the security people there and finally get out of that stupid building. You get your car keys out of your bag, driving home in your black i8. When you get home you feed your cat, finally plopping in your bed and falling asleep instantly.

You woke up due to your phone ringing at around 10 am with the hugest headache you’ve had. You palm your forehead, grabbing your phone with your other hand. Your co-worker, Yena, is calling you. You pick up as fast as you can, moaning into the phone due to being exhausted out of your mind.

“Yeah… Yena hey….” You say with half a mouth.

“Hey girl, are you coming to work? Today’s the showcasing, have you forgotten?”

Oh, fucking hell. You totally forgot.

A showcasing happens when all composers need to show the work they did in a few months’ time. You need to turn in all the songs you’ve made in this time, whilst competing with your other co-workers to be the best one, getting the title of the best songwriter of the month. Your company likes making leaderboards, only adding onto your stress of being the best. Of course, last month’s songwriter was Heeseung, but you thought the judges were so biased over him… you knew you could take him down this month.

“Right… I’ll be there soon just let me get ready.” You say, already dreading the idea of getting out of bed.

She hangs up, letting you wash up quickly. You fix up your hair, put on your suit and do a bit of makeup. You get your badge with your name on it and out you are. By the time you arrive at the company you’re already late… the higherups there scolding you for it.

“Please try to make it on time, you know how important this is.”

You sigh. How could they expect you to be there early when you went home at almost 3 AM last night?

“Okay, okay I’m sorry. I’m here now.” You add.

After you come out of your office to get your suitcase that had your files, you bump into the last person you wanted to see there. He throws you a cheeky smile, not even apologizing for giving you a shoulder.

“Oh, if it isn’t the famous miss L/n! Ready to get your dreams crushed by my songs again?” you scoff at him, crossing your arms. “Yeah right, like I’d let a scumbag like you take my title. I don’t have anything to prove to you, stay in your lane.”

He raises his eyebrows at your response, as you would normally walk away if he told you anything. “Oh is it miss complaint now? Let me actually show you how this job is done, im your ceo for a reason.” he suddenly stops smiling to give you a glare.

“You don’t intimidate me Mr. Lee, right on the contrary, you make me want to laugh.” you say and turn around, not wanting to waste your time with such a man. His sleek smile creeps back onto his face as he walks into his own office.

A few minutes later, you get back to the front, everyone already waiting there with their work. You stand next to Yena, holding the tank of papers in hand tightly.

Yena could tell you’re nervous, so she extended one hand up to yours just to squeeze it, calming you down a bit. Your other co-workers were not a threat at all, but Heeseung was the one person you wanted to bring down. You wanted to wipe that stupid smile off his face. After much judging and testing, with recitals and rehearsals for the songs, the judges finally decided the points accorded to the candidates. The others already had way too little points to worry you, but you, Yena and Heeseung were left.

“Choi Yena, 127 points.” She sighed of relief. A sizeable number overall, but now it depends on what you and Heeseung did.

“Lee Heeseung, 140 points.” His eyes widen. There is a chance that you might win. You might take him over… You might take his place. No way, right?

After a good minute of silence, they finally list your points.

“L/n Y/n, 139 points.” You almost fall to your knees. Out of all chances, how could this happen to you?? You close your eyes and cover your ears before you go insane.

You let him win, again.

“Therefore, our winner this month will be Lee Heeseung, the winner of the last 3 months as well, Congratulations!” all you hear is buzzing in your ears. You grow sour of his name, of his voice, his face. You can’t stand his dumb mouth, dumb face, dumb voice. You can’t stand him at all, and you would do anything to see him fired or something. You know that won’t happen and it drives you crazy. Heeseung smiles, taking his prize in hand once again, his portrait remaining on the fame wall. He shakes hands with the judges before taking a good look at you.

You cannot look at him anymore, you just lower your gaze trying not to burst into tears. You worked so hard for this, yet he took away all your hope for a win. You storm out the room, sitting down at your desk to throw your head down on the wooden table.

One point. Seriously. This is ridiculous.

Well, you take a deep breath and continue with your shitty day. At some point in time, you get a knock on your office door. “Come in.” you say as you raise your eyes up to see who it is. “Oh Yena, hey.. sorry for not saying anything earlier…” you bite your lip.

“Don’t consume yourself over it, hey, that dude is a douche, okay? Do not let him get to you. You are better than him anyway.”

“Am I though? I mean… What if he is simply better than me. What if his songs are better than mine? What if his lyrics have more meaning than mine?”

“He is not better than you, and even if he will be proven to be, which I doubt, don’t ever let him know you think that.”

“I can’t be a narcissist just like him, Yena. If I am not as good as someone, I will take the responsibility on my shoulders and admit it.”

“See you’re already better than him, he would never” She laughs. You laugh back, although in your soul goes a fight between your ego and sincerity.

. . .

After the day ends, you finally go home early, not giving two fucks about what they might say or think, it is your right after all. Too bad that you get a message you dreamed of never getting, too bad it happened.

HELIX ENTERTAINMENT

“Good evening, members of the company. We are delighted to announce that tomorrow there will be a collaboration project between each other. The groups are arranged by the organisers, and they follow the lines of:

Now scrolling through all the pages, you search for your name. Oh, what are the chances.

Lee Heeseung & L/n Y/n”

Of course this had to happen, it would not have been you if it were not for your amazing luck.

“Oh, suck on it seriously.” You look at your phone in disbelief, while making yourself tea. “Juno can you believe this? This man is going to ruin my image and my life. I can’t stand him anymore I swear I might kill someone if this keeps happening.” Juno meows, probably because he wants a bit of peace, but you still took that as an agreement to what you said. “I know, I know. I guess it will be okay… hope he doesn’t ruin my career for life with this. I do not trust him.”

The next day, you shake your head while getting out of your car, glaring at the tall building with huge windows. You always glare while looking at it, but somehow this time was different. It wasn’t because you hated your job, it was because you had to see your partner. All the people who greeted you in the halls got a cold response, or no response at all. Might have been a shitty thing to do but honestly you weren’t in the mood for anything anymore. You just wanted this day to be over.

When you get into Heeseung’s office, seeing him rummaging through his papers, you just stood in the doorway… waiting for him to finish his work. He raises his head to look at you, his mood getting insignificantly worse when his eyes met yours. Before he gets to sigh, you cut him off.

“The feeling is mutual. I usually try to act nice, but I just cannot stand you no matter how hard I try.” You cross your arms while he goes back to his papers. “Then take a seat.” He responds in the coldest way, only making you furrow your eyebrows at his tone. “Okay damn…” you say under your breath while grabbing a chair to sit in front of his desk.

There are a few moments of silence, but you decide to ask him about the collaboration, same reason you’re here right now.

“Heese-” “It’s Mr. Lee for you.” You clear your throat annoyed. “Mr. Lee, I am only here to ask you about what we must do, can we focus on that?”

“Why would I make a project with someone as bad at writing as you?” he looks up at you again. You bite your cheek, barely being able to stand him anymore. You just look down to your thighs, grasping your palms together anxiously. Yuna told you to never be weak in front of him, but how could you not when he was so right?

“Please refrain from insulting my work and just take the organisations words, they put us together for this, so we need to do it.”

“If I let you work on this, you will just embarrass me in front of thousands of people. How about you just let me handle this? Go home, enjoy your days off. I’ll give you the credit.”

“You cannot just do everything alone; I do not care about days off I just want to work on this too. Please Mr. Lee.”

That is the first time he’s ever heard you say please to him. He hated your presence just as much as you hated his, why must you be at each other’s throats all the time? Simply because of rivalry or did other frustrations arise from both parties?

He licks his lips, finally giving in. “You can work on it with me Y/n. Just don’t disappoint me.”

“I promise I won’t. This matters so much to me.”

You follow him to his studio; he lets you get in first and that is when he locks the door behind you. You both sit down next to each other while you work on the song. He keeps acting weird throughout the recording and editing process, changing poses multiple times in a few minutes, sighing and fidgeting with his fingers. Halfway through the song you place your hand on his while looking at him. “Mr. Lee, are you feeling okay?”

That is when he sighs, snatching his hand away from yours and turning the pc off. He turns to you, keeping his eye contact consistent. “Y/n… i’ve just been feeling frustrated. Just forget it. Let’s focus on the song.”

Now you cannot say that you care about him, but you’re still curious to see what this is about. “Oh, is that so? Frustrated in what kind? Someone like you has feelings?”

He glares at you. “Not in the way you’d think, anyway.” You tilt your head. “But how? Tell me now, i’m curious.” “Maybe you should learn to keep your mouth shut, it’s none of your business.” “Just because you’re my superior does not mean you gotta talk to me like that, bastard.” He clenches his jaw. “Oh, that’s it.” He suddenly grabs onto your neck, pulling you closer. He’s still so gentle but it’s enough force to make you struggle to talk. “Is this what it’s about...? A... are you sexually frustrated…?” You tease. He releases the grasp on your neck and looks down at his hands. “I.. I’m sorry. It’s hard being alone when you’re pushing 30 you know.”

You had no idea what was happening right now, but you definitely enjoyed the attention you got. You were equally as touch starved as he was, and it was making you want more.

“You know, we could do this. But I really don’t like you dude.” You raise your eyebrow at him. He nods. “You don’t make yourself all that approachable either, would you really be down? I mean, just… fuck buddies… nothing else?”

“Mr. Lee, you know we both aren’t ones for relationships. But what’s in it for me?” “Oh, you want payment now?” “Well, you knew I wasn’t gonna give you myself for free, did you?” He laughs. “Fair, then how about I give you a raise?” “Mm… Anything else?” He rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay uhh. A raise and no more staying overtime, you get paid if you leave work early and… free coffee for life.” You ponder a bit. “Alright, I accept.” “Oh, not so quick, you need some rules to you too. For this to work you have to come help me anytime I need you.” “Libido that high, huh?” He shushes you and you giggle.

“Well okay, but if you’re really frustrated right now, shall we start today?” He looks back at you, visibly cringing from you being so direct with him, but he doesn’t mind. “I mean if you’re down.” “I am, but do you have any condoms?” That’s when you see him reaching for his wallet, taking out about 3 condoms out. Your eyes widen a bit, smacking your lips at his professionalism. “Oh, wow you’re ready.” “3 is a bit much…” “Who knows, i’ll end up using all of them and then end up going raw cause we are left with none.” “Yeah, don’t know about that.” “Im messing with you, dumbass.” He rolls his eyes, letting you get on top of his lap. Your lips finally make contact with his, getting to taste him in your mouth, the feeling lingering down to your stomach.

As you begin making out, your hand travels down to his forming bulge, squeezing and massaging it to the best of your abilities. As you’re doing that, he squeezes your ass with his palm, making you flinch from the sudden pressure. You playfully slap his face, pulling away from the kiss a bit. “You’re such a dick.” “I know, wanna feel mine already?” You give him one last kiss before pushing his head back on the chair to kiss his neck, insisting on his prominent adam’s apple. You suck on his sensitive skin, forming hickeys along his whole neck. “Fuck, Y/n, you’re not bad at this.” “I know, but you are.” “Oh shut up, I barely got to do anything.” You sigh, pulling away from his neck. “Let me ride you, m’kay?” “Do whatever you want to me.” He smiles coyly. “Could I kill you?” You pout your lips. “Not until you get your raise.” “Oh, fuck off.”

You start with unbuttoning his pants, not even taking them off before placing your hand on his boxers. You press his dick a bit, his groan appearing right after. “Mhm, that’s what I love hearing.” You nod to yourself. “Right from my mouth?” He teases too. “Oh, you know what I mean, I might need to stuff yours, so you shut up more often.” “Could you stuff it with your pussy?” That keeps you quiet for a bit, his response making you clench around nothing. “… I might, if tape doesn’t work.”

You don’t even take his pants off when you pull his boxers down with his half-hard dick springing out. You grab the base, stroking it a bit to get it as erect as you can. “You’re so big.” You point out. He just smirks, looking at you up and down. You leave his dick alone for a bit just to take your panties off, as you were already wearing a skirt, the embarrassing wet stains on them being visible for Heeseung to see as well. “You got this wet already? And you’re the one saying i’m horny.” “Shut it.” You throw your panties to the other side of the room, finally ripping one condom out the packaging, putting it well onto his dick. After you give him a few more strokes you position yourself on his dick, slowly lowering yourself on his length. It takes you a few good seconds to adjust, then you slowly move your hips back and forth on him. He already throws his head back, the feeling being so familiar yet so distant. Your walls clench around him every time you move on him, the feeling already getting unbearable. You change your routine a bit, starting to bounce instead of grinding, the sound of your thighs touching echoing through the room. You try leaving out as little moans as you can, but it’s still impossible for you, as it feels so good. You leave out small desperate noises as you bounce on him. “Knew you couldn’t resist me.” He smiles up at you. You glare again. “Fuck you.” While speeding up. “This.. doesn’t mean anything. I’m just.. helping.. you get rid of a boner.” You say out of breath. “And it’s working, keep going.”

You ride him as well as you can, his swollen tip getting so deep inside you it’s hitting your sweet g-spot. He needed to fuck with someone desperately, the fact that it was you was pure coincidence. Your mouth parts, leaving sounds that only his ears can hear. “Holy shit… I might cum soon… please” you cry, grabbing onto his shoulders with your nails bedded into his skin. He looks up at you, his hand resting against your ass, giving it a few squeezes here and there. “You’re gonna cum for me? Hm? Come on, cum all over me” He whisper shouts, helping you bounce on him faster and faster.

The knot in your stomach quickly snaps, your orgasm washing down over you with a few loud moans. You cum all over his dick, with each thrust forming a white ring at the base of it. “Your pussy so good, Y/n… I can’t take it any…more” he grunts, throwing his head back more with each bounce of yours. “Cum already, come on you’re... doing so well” you encourage him, and he immediately obeys, his semen spilling into his condom, making it fully white by the time you pull away from his lap. He pants and moans before you finally take the condom off his dick, the cum spilling back onto it. You stroke him a few more times, getting your hand messy but that finally makes him lay on the chair more relaxed, his high calming down.

“Damn it you’re good.” He says while smiling, his head thrown backwards. “I know, that’s why I agreed to help you.” You slightly grab onto his neck, giving it a few playful kisses. “Now should I send you back to your work? You’re finished here.” He teases. “Oh right, right. Maybe I should focus on my actual work, rather than this work.” You say, grabbing onto his dick one last time, leaving it alone after wrapping your hand around it.

He grabs your wrist, flicking it away now. He looks up at you while raising his eyebrow. “Get the fuck out of here.” You scoff at him, cleaning yourself up a bit and fixing your clothes back on before turning around to leave. “Suck my pussy.” You say annoyed while heading to the door.

As you open the door you hear a “Might do that too” and that’s when you get out the door, leaving him a middle finger before closing the door behind you.

Heeseung finishes the project for both of you, and you end up winning it together. Of course, he kept reproaching you that you won because of him, and you got into a heated argument that you just stopped talking for weeks. So first he says he’ll do it for you but when you do… he argues that he did all the work?

What an asshole.

After another day of no contact at all, you get passed a flyer at work, so you quickly read it.

“It gives us immense pleasure to invite you to a special gathering in honor of Lee Heeseung & L/n Y/n to celebrate their remarkable achievement of winning the collaboration project contest first place.

Date: [7th of December]

Time: [7 PM to 12 AM]

Venue: HELIX ENTERTAINMENT VENUE & BAR

Dress Code: [Semi-Formal]

We look forward to celebrating this special moment with you.

Warm regards,

HELIX ENTERTAINMENT”

After reading, you immediately put the flyer down on your desk, covering your face with your hands. “I don’t wanna see that man ever again.” You avoided him for a few weeks, how could you meet again now? You sigh to yourself, thinking that it’s just one day, it’ll be over, and you can continue ignoring him again.

On the day of the event, you buy yourself a nice and luxurious royal blue dress, it’s long and it hugs your body so well. It has a pretty big cleavage, but you know you looked attractive in it anyway. You get ready, grab your hand purse, and get to the venue. As you enter the big ballroom you notice Heeseung right away, talking to some higher ups while having one hand in his pocket, and the other in the air, moving it around while talking. He’s wearing a tight black suit on, with a deep v-neck that perfectly shows his collarbone. His hair a dark velvet and slightly gelled. You would be lying if you said he wasn’t attractive. He always wore that dark aura to him, and that pissed you off. It’s like he was pulling you in despite you trying to pull away. Even if you said you hated him, your palms got sweaty when you saw him, your heartbeat got faster and you eyes slightly widened whenever you saw him. It wasn’t because he was your boss, it wasn’t because he could fire you at any moment… there was something else. And he knew it.

You breathe in one last time before going up to them. As soon as Heeseung sees you he can’t stop looking at you. How perfect you look, you elegant you came here yet so sexy. The way your boobs sat in your dress and how they looked at Heeseung first, that’s what he claims anyway. You don’t say anything to each other, you barely dare to make eye contact. But at one point the others leave your conversation, saluting both of you for now... And when you expect it least, he pulls you aside.

“Are you trying to tempt me with those tits?” He whispers. “Excuse me?” You look at him, eyebrows furrowed in a mix of confusion and anger. “I mean, look at you. Who did you come here for? Where are you going after this? Is there anyone else with you?” He launches this set of questions so weirdly, making you cross your arms which makes your boobs squeeze even tighter against each other.

“I’m here alone, Heeseung. I just liked this dress and came here with it. What’s your problem, even if I dressed up for someone?” You look angrily at him. “Because nobody can see… all of this… except for me. You’re my fuck buddy remember?”

“So? I thought friends with benefits meant something else for you. Don’t care what you think about my outfits. Just stop staring weirdo.” You rest your arms alongside your body, before turning to leave. He grabs your wrist, pulling you close to him. “Look, I don’t want to be constantly ignoring you. Can we be just like we were before?” your lips part. “You mean…. hating each other?” he sighs. “You know what I mean. Hating each other but helping each other with things.” You click your tongue. “Oh yeah, speaking of that… you never gave me my raise… or my coffee.”

“What? you can take as much coffee as you want, and I want you to help me with something before I give you the extra money.”

“And what’s that? amaze me.”

“Could you act that you’re my fiancé for tonight?”

You freeze. “Huh?”

“I don’t want you around me, at all. But It’s so annoying when people keep asking why i’m not married at my age.”

“Did you tell them that you’re a bastard? and that’s why you’re single?” you look at him pissed.

“Oh fuck off, just tell me if you want to help me or not.” you contemplate. “Maybe. If I finally get my raise, and some good sex out of you.”

“It’s on then. Let’s go meet some people here, they’re old and rich perverts but they give hella good sponsors. You might wanna cover up. I don’t want them looking at you.” he grabs your waist. “What a coincidence, that sounds like a perfect description of you in a few years.” you roll your eyes, walking with him while struggling to put on your jacket.

“Hello, Mr. Lee, and who is this beautiful lady?” they start right off the bat looking at your body and all, despite covering yourself as well as you can. You feel so uncomfortable with them but Heeseung makes sure to cover you with his body instead. “This is Y/n, my dearest fiancé. She’s a bit shy, so please talk to me instead.” You throw a slight smile while looking at him, his gesture making you really happy.

After you were done with these men, you leave to a more reserved area. “I can’t believe i’m saying this but… thanks for having my back earlier.” “Don’t fret, I saw how uncomfortable you were. Hate you or not, I can’t see you with that expression on your stupid face.”

You take your jacket off while nodding your head. “Wow, what a compliment from you mr. Lee. I acted enough; now can I stop being your dog following you everywhere?”

“Of course, you can leave too if you’re busy.”

“Hey, what about my payment? remember?”

“You want your money now? What do you wanna buy? I’ll give you my card.” He says, pulling out his card to hand it to you. “My pin is 1510. Use however much you want.”

That just stunned you. “W-What no I don’t need to buy anything. Keep your card…” you push it back to him. “I meant… you know.”

“The good sex part?” he says softly.

“Yeah. That.” you say a bit embarrassed now. “Stop making it so awkward, you’re being too quiet for your own good.” you continue.

“Why do you think that? Is my mouth too big to keep quiet?” he smiles. “Obviously, you never seem to shut up but right now you’re eerily quiet.” “I’m just thinking whether I should just eat you out like you deserve or fuck you too on top of that.” His response already gets you hot and bothered, not caring about the people who might be there or might pass you two. You get even closer to him, sliding your hand down his v-neck to touch his pecs and collarbone. “What’s stopping you from doing both? Please Heeseung. It’s my turn to be needy is it not?”

“Of course, it can be your turn whenever. Surprised you’re craving my pleasure when you can’t stand me.” “You’re still fucking hot with this suit on, personality or not.” He smiles, pulling you into a heated kiss, the butterflies rummaging through your stomach. You grab onto his hair, pushing him a little while making out. You pull away after a bit, finally unbuttoning his shirt. You touch him all over his body, barely being able to stop.

“Did you always look this good?” you say, moving your hands on his abdomen. “Were you always this desperate for me?” he smiles, letting you do whatever you want, until he begins undressing you too, sliding that dress off you in a hurry. He slips your bra off taking one tit into his mouth while kneading the other. You let out desperate sounds, wishing he would just eat you out already. His breath hot against your nipple makes your whole body shiver, inevitably making you whine. “Heeseung just suck on my pussy like that please stop teasing me damn it.”

He laughs against your skin, giving your boob one last kiss before pulling away. “Okay, okay, sit down on this couch.” You do, and he gets on his knees to slide your panties off. He makes you spread your legs for him, keeping them apart with his hands. He starts off with small kisses around your core, taking his time enjoying his meal afterall. “This is the second time you’re dripping wet for me, is it a pattern now?” you grab onto his hair to keep him there. “Shut up and just help me get through this.” He listens, starting to eat you out to the best of his ability. Hollowing his cheeks, shaking his head to suck on your folds. He puckers up his lips to kiss you all over, giving it a few sweet licks all over the slit. Once he reaches your clit, he glues his mouth on it, sucking on it leaving the nastiest sounds known to man. While he’s focusing on your clit, he sneaks his fingers to your wet hole, sliding one finger in at first, pounding it into you at a steady rate. You cannot stop moaning loudly, the pleasure being too much for you. He inserts another finger in, curling them inside you, reaching your g-spot easily.

“Oh, right there, Hee. Don’t you dare stop or you’re so dead— oh my fucking god that’s so good.” His hand speeds up, he pulls his mouth away to flick his tongue on your bud faster and faster; matching the rhythm of his fingers. “Fuck!” you cry out. “Heeseung i’m gonna… cum please … keep going.” You lose your mind. He speeds up even more, destroying your pussy with his fingers, actually giving you hope that he’s gonna let you finish. Once you get as close as you’ve ever been, he pulls out and away completely, making your body shake. You groan suddenly opening your eyes in disbelief. “What the fuck..?” you say angrily. “You thought I was just gonna let you cum like that from something so simple?” You glare. “You’re so fucking annoying, I had such a good orgasm forming.”

He caresses your cheek. “Stop pouting, let me make you cum forreal now, okay?” you still look mad, but you grab onto the hem of his pants, pulling them down in one second; his boner is quite visible already. You pull his dick out, stroking it while he gets a condom out his wallet again (Somehow he’s always ready). You keep stroking him, squeezing his tip with your fingers until he leaks precum everywhere. You stop that to pull his boxers down further, letting him put his condom on. He strokes himself a few more times before positioning himself to penetrate you. He slowly pushes his cock in, making slow movements at first, slowly speeding up to fuck you good. “You’re taking it so well, and you feel so good..” You hum, slowly wrapping your legs around him. “That’s amazing… keep going..” you whine, letting him fuck you til you lose your mind.

He slightly moans at every thrust, managing to get deeper and deeper with every thrust. You feel him so deep inside, hitting your g-spot again with his swollen tip. The sudden zap makes you grab onto his biceps with your hands, digging your nails into his skin while moaning louder. “Mhm…. That’s the spot. Don’t stop please…” He finally listens to your pleads, pounding into your sweet spot over and over as you leave red scratches all over his arms. Your hands move up to his upper back, scratching him like a wild cat. He hisses multiple times at the pain, but he lets you react this way just to see all your reactions to him destroying you once again. You tighten around him as you’re about to cum.

“Hee...please let me cum... plea—oh that feels so good please…” you say as you start crying, small tears running down your cheeks shutting your eyes forcefully. “Who’s crying on my cock now? You love getting fucked like this don’t you slut?” he says while speeding up even more, making you squirt on him on the spot. His words buzz in your ear over and over while you lose your mind completely. Your legs shake on his lower back, getting his dick wet with your squirt. “You’re so messy when you cum.” He groans, getting close to his release too. “Oh fuck you… you know you like it… cum already…. come on.” A few more thrusts in and he pulls out to take his condom off his dick. He gives himself a few more strokes before releasing strings of cum all over your stomach. He holds onto your thigh with his other hand while continuing to stroke himself. You look down to your stomach just to see, biting your lip at the scenery. “That’s a new one… you look damn hot doing it.” He slightly smiles at you. “Figured we’d both get messy.” You both quickly clean up the best you can, trying not to get caught by anyone despite how loud you both were the entire time.

“Is this the good sex you were talking about?” he says in a sly manner. “Obviously, if that even means something to you. If there’s one good thing about you it might just be that dick.” You roll your eyes at him. “Oh my, should I feel honored?” he says sarcastically.

You both get out of there, having no intention of staying after what both just did. He gives you the rest of the evening off and gives you your very awaited raise. He was generous with his numbers, that good time really helped. might despise you, or that’s what you think, but he took that raise seriously and you couldn’t stop smiling at your bank balance.

A few days later, you get a text at work from none other than Heeseung. You never gave him your number, so it was a surprise.

“hey y/n”

“Who is this?”

“the guy you fucked 2 days ago”

“ugh what do u want”

“i’m your boss, don’t text me that way��

“whatever, why are u texting me and where did u get my number”

“yena, i just wanted to give you some extra work today”

[1 attachment]

The photo he sent shows his lower body sitting on a chair with his legs slightly manspreading, a thick bulge layering on his dark grey pants while his left hand is gripping the said bulge. Multiple veins are seen branching down from his hand to his arm.

The moment you saw the picture your eyes scattered throughout the pixels in your phone without being able to stop. The photo he took was so damn attractive to you for no specific reason but the way his hand looked, the way you just knew that bulge in his pants was throbbing, begging to get out the tight bottom wear. Still, you decided to be a little cold to him as you always were.

“oh why should i help u? i already got my raise”

“do u want this to be your only one?”

You leave him on seen for a minute or two.

“where r u”

“in my office, tell my bodyguard i called you in here”

“🖕”

You get up, fixing your makeup a little before leaving your office to get to his. After you close the door behind you, you both have a moment of intense eye contact, just to break it off by looking down. “You got here fast. Missed me that much?” you smack your lips. “It’s not like you threatened me or anything.” He laughs softly. “You know you missed me already. Did you touch yourself to the picture I sent, too?” He slowly walks towards you.

“What? No. You’re not all that Heeseung. Your mouth moves too much though.”

“Oh yeah? Then let's see what yours can do.”

He grabs your chin, pulling it up so you can only look into his eyes. There are a few seconds of silence where your heart skips a beat… then in his lowest tone you hear him say...

“Get on your knees.”

He releases the grasp on your chin, letting you lower yourself, finally making eye contact with his bulge. “Aren’t we gonna get caught here?” He shakes his head. “No one can enter without my permission. No one can leave either, like you here.” He smiles. You squeeze your legs together at his words while sliding his pants and boxers off in one move. His hardened cock springs out, bouncing off his navel. You start with small pecks to his red tip, slowly moving down to his entire length. He looks down at you, admiring your sweet moves to bring him pleasure. “You’re adorable like this, did you know?” he chuckles. “Eat a dick.” He slaps your cheek. “Too bad you’re eating mine right now.” You glare up at him before taking his tip in your mouth, stroking him with your hand. You have your other hand resting on his right knee, as you bop your head back and forth little by little. He smiles at you, grabbing your hair into a ponytail just to keep your head in place and to be able to fuck your mouth a bit.

You unwrap your hand from around him cock, letting him completely take control, going at his desired pace. He moans at the feeling, throwing his head back for a second. “Fuck yeah... I see this mouth is better at doing things other than complaining all the time.” His thrusts are making you slightly choke on his dick, getting harder and harder to breathe. You grab onto his thighs, trying to at least make him slow down, but to no avail. It feels too good for him to stop now, your mouth wrapped so tight around his dick; sending him waves of bliss with each thrust. After a good while he pulls away, letting you breathe again. “I fucking hate you.” You say, looking up at him. “Don’t talk to your superior that way, brat.” He grabs the base of his cock, slapping the tip onto your lips multiple times.

You take him in your mouth again, bopping your head up and down faster than before. You try using your tongue against as well, caressing the sensitive spot between his tip and length with the tip of your tongue.

“That feels so good. Don’t pull away.” He whispers. You leave little hums to confirm that you won’t, letting him get closer to his release with those emitted vibrations. After a few more sloppy bops, he moans like hell, grabbing onto the back of your head to push you deeper onto him. “Y/n i’m— gonna cum… hold on…” he moans out, his eyes closed shut. You keep going, wanting him to cum right in your mouth. “Mmm…hmm.” Is all you can let out, before he cums deep in your throat, automatically swallowing all of it. He leaves out a small groan, pulling out your mouth after he’s done. A string of saliva links his tip and your tongue as he pulls away further.

“Good girl. You swallowed all of it.” You give him a little smile, standing up while wiping your mouth. “Might’ve been the best i’ve ever had, come here.” He says, grabbing your waist with his arms. He leans in to give you a genuine kiss, not a lustful one, definitely not. He keeps you in that deep kiss for a while, pulling away only to pull you in again. “Where... is this … coming from?” you chuckle a little, asking between kisses. “I don’t think… I can stand… completely hating… you anymore…” your eyes widen a bit. “Was my mouth that good?” you say jokingly, and he shakes his head. “Not just that, not just sex. You have a crazy charm to you, I don’t know if you can feel it.”

“That’s crazy coming from you Lee Heeseung.”

“I want you in my life Y/n, you can be mad all you want but it doesn’t change things between us.”

“You’ve already been in mine way too long.” You smile.

“Exactly, I want you to be so sick of me, no medicine would be able to treat you.”

“I guess we can make it work… you’re crazy hot, still might need to tape that mouth though.”

“Is that a secret kink?” He laughs.

“Oh, shut up.” You push him slightly. You can’t lie, being his girlfriend now was tempting, no matter how much you tried to hate him, he attracted you more and more without even realising. Every time he was in your presence your subconscious was happy to see him. Your mind played tricks on you, and you hated how much you adored him.

Dating Lee Heeseung, your boss, was one of the best decisions of your life. Turns out he’s sweeter than it seems, he would give his life for you, and you would too. You didn’t need anyone else, only your soulmate and your cat. You ended up moving in together, always cooking dinner together, going on vacations together and just enjoying eachother’s presence. He was such a sweet guy, something you never expected to see from such a man. Yena definitely judged you when she first found out about your new relationship, but quickly came along with the idea. Thing is, Heeseung acted this way with others but he was so sweet with you. He only loved you. His sparkly bambi eyes always stare at you with such admiration when you walk in the room. He can’t stop admiring you all the time.

I guess he wasn’t that bad after all.

———————————————————————

a/n: thank you so much for reading this!! I spent a few days on it and it was definitely experimental. reblogging/liking would be very much appreciated < 3

[gamerexdrex]

"Hey! Let me go you oversized lizard!" Screamed the farmer, struggling against your grip.

Honestly, if it wasn't to prove to the stuck ups at the council, you would have never bothered even looking twice at this human, much less putting up with her screeching; but alas, sacrifices must be made for your tesis.

But it's damn hard when the human has been biting at your fingers. You are not sure why she thought it was a good idea, it has only been bothering you and might hurt her teeth.

When you finally, FINALLY, make it to the old castle, your are about ready to sleep a hundred years; but it isn't the time! You need! To teach! The human!

You land on the patio of the castle, with plenty of space for practice, and gently put the raving human down.

"Listen human-"

WACK

The human somehow found a large stick in the five seconds you've been in this place and immediatly hit your eye.

You should have just horded gold like your mom

"Listen-"

WACK

"human-"

WACK

"do you-"

WACK

"want-"

WACK

"to learn-"

WACK

"magic"

She stops in her tracks, and looks at you confused. "Soooo you are not going to eat me"

Your eye twichs "If I wanted a meal, I would have eaten the king's whole army of horses"

"Oh"

There is a bit of awkard silence

"So when do we begin?" She beams

You smile

"When I finish taking a nap, give 5 minutes and we'll start."

.....

You scribble the runes yet again, and once again, nothing happens.

The dragon seems even more disappointed than before somehow.

"It should work now, I don't know how this is possible"

You stare and can't help but feel frustrated with yourself. it's supposed to work, you two have been trying up until sundown.

It's probably your fault nothing happens.

You can hear the dragon's voice above you "let's take a break, shall we? Maybe when our heads are clear, we'll find a solution"

You wonder if the dragon is either very positive or very stubborn

After a fire and a couple of sheep the dragon got from...somewhere for dinner, you stare at the stars. You don't think you've seen this constelations before

"I'm sorry"

You turn to the dragon, surprised.

"I brought you here against your will, told you I would teach you magic, and we have yet to get a reaction from the runes" He lowers his head "So I apologise little human"

After a moment of shock, you smile sadly "It's alright, I guess I just wasn't cut out for this"

"Don't say that human; acording to my research, every human has the capacity to channel magic; and we did everything right"

You bite your cheek "If you say so" you look over the runes "what does it say anyways?"

You don't notice the dragon freezing in place but you do notice when he speaks up

"What"

Confused, you turn to him "well, yes? I don't know what we are writing so..."

He stares some more "Isn't this common knowledge? There are books written by you humans! That's how I know you could do magic!"

Is your turn to stare

"Quick question, how are those books?"

"There are just a little over a hundred yea-" the dragons stops and, after processing the imformation a bit, slams his head on the ground.

"I forgot to account human ages, of course I did"

You sit besides the dispairimg dragon "Soooo I assume meaning and understaning are important for magic"

"Mhm" He answers, head still on the ground "We've been writing the true names of spirits and powerful beings. You summon or imbude the strenght of those entities by writing them on this language. But it only works if the entity is understood to be powerful."

You ponder for a bit, and run to grab your big stick

"Can you tell me your name?"

The dragon looks up "huh?"

"Or at leats how it would be written in that weird old language, I have an idea"

The dragon looks at you a bit more, shrugs, and begins writing on the ground with it's claw

You carve the runes on the stick, now with the understanding that this is the name of your teacher.

Once finished, you looked at the letters and something odd happens. They begin to shine.

You aim at the sky, and a blast of purple light comes out of the tip of it, so strong that it send you flying. You are caught by the dragon. The hairs of your neck are standing up.

There is silence

"Y-you did it"

"I did it"

"YOU DID IT"

"I DID IT"

You both begin to laugh, of delight, of satisfaction, of relief, of excitement.

You did it

The other dragons laughed when you shared your thesis that humans should be capable of learning magic. Infuriated, you fly off to capture a human and teach it the ways of magic.

[warblogs17282]

Now that helluva boss season 2 has hit it's finale, let's discuss everything we know about season 3 at this point in time!

aka, a comprehensive list of everything about season 3 that we've been told about so far. (Please tell me if I've missed anything, thanks!)

I do not think that any of this information necessitates a spoiler tag on this post, but if you want to go into season 3 completely blind, click off this post now.

Bluesky Stuff:

What we learned from this bluesky thread posted shortly before Sinsmas was released is as follows:

The wait until Season 3 starts will be quite long.

The team decided that helluva boss having closer releases of episodes was the best decision (heard this meant a month in-between episodes but I forgot where I saw that), so thee team wants to commit to a more traditional release going forward.

Confirmed once again that season 3 has a total of 15 episodes.

We will also be getting shorts in-between the wait until season 3 starts, and I assume this means monthly shorts as well, based on the fact we had monthly shorts last time as well.

Vivziepop has also described season 3 as a 'queer roller coaster.', so we gotta be prepared to get back on that ride again.

At some panel it was confirmed that in season 3 we will be getting an episode that contains some more Millie backstory.

Tweet link here:

In some other panel, alongside confirming Vassago's appearance in the Mastermind episode, they also confirmed that we will be seeing 'much more' of Vassago in season 3, the post in the picture above contains the clip of this moment in the panel as well.

In what appears to be a recording for the second half of season 3, they're doing recording work for a Stolas song titled 'Dirty Bird', and yes, it is going to be super horny. There is a video of this Instagram post on the post below, plus one extra screenshot.

In the Los Angeles Comic Con 2024, quite a few things were revealed to us, with those being as follows:

As said before, this traditional release schedule does mean that the episodes will hopefully be a month apart from each other, and that Vivziepop saw the show was moving towards a more narrative direction, with this also being where the heart of the show is, and as a result, the direction the team is going in.

Lastly, we probably won't see all 72 Goetias, but we will see a lot more of them in season 3.

Post referenced in above screenshot contains a youtube link to said Comic Con.

According to the reblogs under this post, it appears that Erica (Loona's VA), was asked what her favorite song/episode was, and she responded with 'the song that Loona has in season three', confirming that Loona does have a song during season 3.

Video can be found within this post:

At 1:06:19 of this video, Vivziepop does state that the show will eventually get to Stella's perspective, which I have to imagine the show will get to in season 3, and that Vivziepop hearkens Stella's character to the character of BoJack Horseman's mother (Beatrice Horseman) because they are very similar in that regard.

Finally, Vivziepop posted these screenshots of her doing some audio editing to her Instagram over a year ago, we don't know what episode this is from but based on the long name in line 7 that doesn't appear to match any character we know at the moment, this appears to likely be a picture of some season 3 audio.

The main things we can gather from these screenshots appear to be Millie talking with Stolas a bit, and the absolute explosion of voices following something that Blitz said.

Post where I found these screenshots from can be found here, some additional discussion regarding is also in the reblogs:

This YouTube video covers a few instagram videos covering recording footage that Vivziepop uploaded to her account, with them being from the first half of season 3.

What we learn from these instagram videos is that Wally Wackford returns in season 3 with some new lines, and there's also a courtroom scene as well involving Blitz and Stolas, with it also looking like Stolas will be acting as defense for Blitz regarding something we don't know at the moment.

To wrap things off, I believe the next significant reveal or such regarding season 3 will be found in the 2025 LVL UP EXPO, as there are quite a lot of VAs involved with Helluva Boss there, plus Sam Haft and Vivziepop.

Especially considering that in the 2024 LVL UP EXPO, the first helluva boss short was shown, we got the song featured in s2 e8, 'When I See Him' and the season 2 trailer.

[moonlightwritingf1]

Christmas Morning | LN4

🎄 summary ━━━━━━━ Morning sex with Lando on Christmas morning

🎄 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

🎄 word count ━━━━━━━ 3.9k

🎄 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

The first thing Y/N noticed was the warmth. It seeped through her skin, wrapping around her like a cocoon, and for a moment, she forgot where she was. The faint aroma of pine needles and cinnamon lingered in the air, intertwined with a scent unmistakably his—a blend of cedarwood cologne and the subtle musk she now instinctively linked to Lando. Her eyelids fluttered open, and there he was, still asleep beside her, his dark curls tousled against the white pillowcase.

“Merry Christmas,” she whispered softly, though she knew he couldn’t hear her yet. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, one arm draped lazily across her waist, pulling her closer even in sleep. She smiled, tracing the line of his jaw with her fingertips, marveling at how peaceful he looked. There were no cameras here, no fans or flashing lights—just them, wrapped up in each other.

Lando stirred, his nose scrunching adorably before his eyes blinked open. For a moment, he seemed disoriented, but then his gaze found hers, and a slow, sleepy smile spread across his face. “Morning,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep but impossibly warm. He shifted slightly, his hand sliding up her back to tangle in her hair. “Did Santa come?”

Y/N laughed softly, the sound muffled as she buried her face in his chest. “I think so,” she teased, pressing a light kiss to his collarbone. “But I don’t need presents. Not when I have you.”

He chuckled, the vibration rumbling through her as he tightened his hold on her. “Cheesy,” he accused, but there was no bite to his words. Instead, his fingers began to trace idle patterns along her spine, sending shivers down her body. “But I like it.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the world outside their little bubble fading into insignificance. The sun crept higher, casting golden streaks across the room, and somewhere in the distance, they could hear the faint jingle of bells—probably someone walking their dog in the snow. But neither of them paid it any mind. Right now, there was only this: the softness of his touch, the way his breath tickled her ear, the lazy, contented smiles they exchanged without needing to say a word.

Eventually, Lando’s hand stilled against her back, and he tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes were darker now, more intense, and Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat. “You’re beautiful,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Especially like this, all sleepy and soft.”

She blushed, her cheeks heating under his scrutiny, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she reached up to brush a curl from his forehead, her fingers lingering on his temple. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

He grinned, that mischievous spark she loved so much lighting up his eyes. “Not so bad, huh? Damn, I must be losing my touch.” Before she could respond, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that started off sweet but quickly deepened. His tongue brushed against hers, coaxing a soft moan from her as she melted into him.

Their bodies pressed together, every curve and angle perfectly aligned, and Y/N could feel the heat building between them. His hands roamed her body, leaving trails of fire in their wake, and she arched into his touch, craving more. “Lando,” she breathed against his lips, her voice trembling with need.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down her spine. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, brushing against the sensitive skin of her stomach, and she gasped.

“You,” she answered without hesitation, her hands gripping his shoulders as if to anchor herself. “Just you.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. In one swift motion, he rolled them over so that she was beneath him, his weight pressing her into the mattress in the most delicious way. His lips found hers again, hungry and demanding, and Y/N surrendered completely, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer.

His hands slid up her sides, pushing her shirt up until it pooled around her shoulders, and then he broke the kiss just long enough to pull it over her head and toss it aside. His eyes darkened as they roamed over her, taking in every inch of exposed skin, and Y/N shivered under his gaze. “So perfect,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. He bent his head, his lips trailing hot kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, and lower still, until he reached the lace edge of her bra.

Y/N gasped as he unhooked it with practiced ease, his mouth immediately seeking out her breast. His tongue flicked over her nipple, teasing it into a hardened peak, and she cried out, her hips arching off the bed. “Lando,” she moaned, her nails scraping lightly against his scalp.

He hummed in response, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure rippling through her, before switching his attention to her other breast. His hands weren’t idle either; one slid down her side, skimming over her hipbone, while the other cupped her breast, kneading it gently as he lavished it with attention.

By the time he finally lifted his head, Y/N was trembling, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. “Please,” she begged, her voice barely recognizable to her own ears.

“Please what, love?” he asked, his lips curving into a wicked smile as he watched her squirm beneath him.

“Touch me,” she pleaded, her hand reaching for his, guiding it downward until it rested between her legs. Even through the thin fabric of her panties, she could feel his warmth, and she whimpered, desperate for more.

Lando groaned, his forehead dropping to rest against hers as he cupped her through the lace, his fingers rubbing slow, deliberate circles that had her gasping. “You’re so wet already,” he growled, his voice thick with need. “God, I love how much you want me.”

She didn’t have the breath to respond, her entire body thrumming with anticipation as he tugged her panties down her legs and tossed them aside. And then his hand was on her again, his fingers sliding through her slick folds before slipping inside her, curling in just the right way to make her cry out.

“Lando! Oh, God,” she moaned, her hips bucking against his hand as he added another finger, stretching her, filling her. His thumb found her clit, circling it in time with the thrust of his fingers, and Y/N felt the coil in her belly tighten, threatening to snap.

“Come for me, baby,” he urged, his voice rough with desire. “Let go.”

And she did. With a strangled cry, her body convulsed around his fingers, waves of pleasure crashing over her until she thought she might drown in them. Her vision blurred, her limbs turned to jelly, and it took everything she had just to keep breathing.

When she finally came back to herself, Lando was watching her with a satisfied smirk, his fingers slowly withdrawing from her body. “You’re incredible,” he said, his voice filled with awe, as if he couldn’t quite believe she was real.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, her heart swelling with love and a hint of mischief as she met Lando’s gaze. Before he could react, she placed her hands firmly on his shoulders, shoving him back. He landed on the bed with a startled laugh, his hair falling messily across his forehead as he looked up at her with wide, amused eyes.

“Your turn,” she murmured, her voice low and laced with a daring edge. Her fingers found the waistband of his boxers, curling around the fabric with deliberate intent.

Lando’s breath hitched, the playful glint in his eyes quickly replaced by something deeper, more intense. His hips lifted instinctively, a silent invitation, as her touch sent a spark coursing through him. The air between them was charged, her steady gaze trailing over him like a flame, leaving him utterly captivated.

She didn’t hesitate, her lips parting slightly as she took him into her hand, feeling the weight and heat of him. Lando groaned softly, his head falling back against the pillow as she began to stroke him slowly, her thumb brushing over the sensitive tip. His hands fisted in the sheets, the muscles in his arms tensing as he tried to keep himself still.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” she murmured, her voice low and husky, filled with a mixture of admiration and desire. She leaned down, her breath ghosting over him before she pressed a soft kiss to the base of his length. His whole body shuddered, a choked sound escaping his throat.

Y/N wasn’t teasing now. She wanted to give him everything—every ounce of pleasure she could. Her tongue flicked out, licking a slow path up the underside of his shaft, savoring the way he twitched beneath her touch. When she reached the top, she circled the tip with her tongue, tasting the salty precum that had gathered there. Lando’s hips bucked involuntarily, and a deep growl rumbled in his chest.

“Fuck, Y/N…” he gasped, his voice raw and desperate. “Just like that.”

Encouraged by his reaction, she took him into her mouth, sinking down inch by inch until she felt him nudging the back of her throat. She relaxed her jaw, letting him slide deeper, her hand moving in tandem with her mouth. His moans grew louder, filling the room, and she could feel the tension building in his body, his thighs trembling beneath her.

Her free hand trailed up his stomach, feeling the tight muscles contract under her fingertips. She loved how responsive he was, how every touch, every lick, every suck brought him closer to the edge. And she intended to push him right to that brink before pulling him back, wanting to draw out his pleasure as long as possible.

Lando’s hand tangled in her hair, not forcing or guiding, just holding on for dear life as she worked him over. He was close—so close—and she could feel it in the way his breathing became erratic, the way his grip tightened ever so slightly. His hips jerked again, and he let out a strangled cry, his entire body tightening like a coiled spring.

But just as he was about to tip over the edge, Y/N pulled back, releasing him with a wet pop. Lando’s eyes flew open, wild and disoriented, and he stared at her in disbelief. “Y/N… what are you—?”

She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she straddled him, positioning herself above him. His hands instinctively gripped her hips, steadying her as she lowered herself onto him, taking him inside her in one smooth motion. They both groaned in unison, the sensation overwhelming.

“Christ…” Lando hissed through clenched teeth, his head falling back against the pillow again. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Y/N didn’t respond right away, too consumed by the feeling of him filling her completely. She moved slowly at first, rolling her hips in a lazy rhythm, savoring the friction and the way his hands dug into her skin. His eyes never left hers, their connection deepening with every thrust.

As she picked up the pace, her movements became more urgent, more desperate. She braced herself on his chest, her nails lightly scraping his skin as she rode him harder. Lando’s groans turned into low, guttural sounds, his hands sliding up to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples. The dual sensations made her whimper, her own pleasure building rapidly.

“You feel so good,” she breathed, her voice trembling with need. “I love being with you like this.”

Lando’s response was a rough, almost primal growl as he sat up suddenly, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. Their foreheads touched, their breaths mingling as he thrust into her from below, meeting her every movement with equal intensity. The shift in angle sent sparks shooting through her, and she clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. “I love you. So much.”

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of his words and the way he was looking at her. “I love you too,” she managed to choke out, her voice thick with emotion.

Their kisses were frantic now, messy and uncoordinated, but filled with passion. Every touch, every thrust, every word was an affirmation of their love for each other. Y/N could feel herself teetering on the edge, her body begging for release, but she held on, wanting to prolong this moment for as long as possible.

Lando, however, seemed to have other plans. One hand slid down between them, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing tight circles around it. The added stimulation was too much, and she cried out, her body convulsing around him as she came hard.

Watching her fall apart pushed him over the edge, and with a low, guttural groan, he spilled himself inside her, his hips stuttering as he followed her into oblivion. They clung to each other, their bodies trembling as wave after wave of pleasure washed over them.

When they finally came down, they collapsed back onto the bed, tangled together in a sweaty, sated heap. Lando pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, his arms tightening around her. “That was… incredible,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but filled with contentment.

Y/N nuzzled into his chest, her heart swelling with love. “It always is with you,” she replied softly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his skin.

For a while, they just lay there, basking in the afterglow and the warmth of each other’s embrace. But soon, Y/N felt a familiar ache building again, a quiet yearning that refused to be ignored. She shifted slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone before whispering, “Do you think we can go again?”

Lando chuckled, his fingers threading through her hair. “You’re insatiable,” he teased, but there was no mistaking the desire in his voice.

Lando’s chuckle rumbled through his chest, vibrating against Y/N’s cheek as she nestled closer. His fingers still tangled in her hair, he tilted her face up to meet his gaze. “Maybe we should open presents first,” he suggested, his voice low and teasing. “I think I got you something special.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “Oh? And what makes you so sure I can wait that long?” she countered, her hand trailing down his chest, skimming over the faint sheen of sweat still clinging to his skin.

He caught her wrist gently, bringing her fingers to his lips for a soft kiss. “Because I know how much you love surprises,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “And trust me, this one’s worth it.”

She sighed dramatically, though her heart fluttered at the look in his eyes. “Fine,” she relented, sitting up and stretching lazily. “But if this present isn’t as good as you’re making it out to be, I expect compensation.”

Lando’s laughter filled the room, a warm, infectious sound that made Y/N smile. Before she could process what was happening, he leaned down and swept her into his arms effortlessly. She gasped, her hands flying to his shoulders as he grinned down at her, his boyish charm on full display.

“Lando!” she protested through a laugh, though she didn’t resist.

“Patience, love,” he teased, carrying her out of the bedroom and into the living room, where the soft glow of the Christmas tree bathed everything in a golden light. He gently lowered her onto the sofa, his touch lingering as he made sure she was comfortable.

“Wait here,” he murmured, winking before turning to kneel by the tree. His shoulders flexed as he reached beneath the branches, rummaging through the pile of gifts with practiced ease. Y/N couldn’t help but admire the way his muscles moved, her heart fluttering at the effortless strength he exuded.

After a moment, he straightened up, a neatly wrapped box in his hands. Turning back to her with a triumphant grin, he walked over and held out the package, his eyes alight with affection.

“For you, my love,” he said softly, his voice warm and brimming with excitement, as though he couldn’t wait to see her reaction.

She took the box, her fingers brushing against his as she did. The wrapping paper was delicate, adorned with tiny snowflakes, and she felt a pang of guilt for wanting to tear into it immediately. But Lando’s expectant gaze urged her on, and she carefully peeled back the paper to reveal a velvet jewelry box underneath.

Her breath hitched as she opened it, revealing a stunning silver necklace with a pendant shaped like a snowflake. It sparkled even in the soft morning light, and Y/N felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “Lando… it’s beautiful,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

“Not as beautiful as you,” he replied softly, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. “Here, let me put it on you.”

She turned around, presenting her back to him, and felt the cool metal press against her skin as he fastened the clasp. His fingers lingered on her neck, tracing slow, deliberate patterns that sent shivers down her spine. When he finally leaned in to press a kiss to the space between her shoulder blades, Y/N couldn’t suppress a soft gasp.

Y/N pushed herself up from the sofa, her movements deliberate as she made her way to the Christmas tree. She crouched down, carefully retrieving a small, rectangular box tucked away beneath the glowing branches. Her fingers lingered on the neatly wrapped present for a moment before she straightened up and returned to the sofa.

Settling back into her spot, she turned to Lando, her cheeks slightly flushed. “Your turn,” she murmured, holding the gift out to him with a soft smile. Her heart raced as his curious gaze flicked between her and the box, his hands brushing against hers as he took it.

Lando’s brow furrowed slightly with intrigue, and he began to unwrap the gift, his movements slow and deliberate, savoring the moment. Y/N’s pulse quickened as she watched him, her anticipation growing with every tear of the paper.

Inside was a custom-made photo book, filled with pictures of their time together—moments captured in candid laughter, stolen kisses, and quiet mornings just like this one. Lando flipped through the pages, his expression softening more with each photograph. “Y/N… this is incredible,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing over a picture of the two of them at sunset, silhouetted against the sky.

“I wanted you to have something to remind you of us,” she explained, her voice trembling slightly. “Of everything we’ve been through, and everything we’ll still do together.”

Lando set the book aside, his eyes locking onto hers. “You don’t need to give me anything to remember us,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “You’re all I think about, every day. You’re my everything.”

Tears welled up in her eyes again, and she leaned in to kiss him, pouring all the love she felt into the gesture. His hands came up to cradle her face, deepening the kiss until they were both breathless. When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, their breaths mingling in the quiet space between them.

“I love you,” Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible.

“I love you too,” Lando replied, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from her cheek. “More than anything.”

The atmosphere around them shifted, a charged intimacy settling between them that made Y/N’s breath hitch. Lando’s gaze locked onto hers, his eyes dark and filled with intent. Slowly, his hands slid down her arms, leaving a trail of warmth that sent shivers coursing through her. His touch lingered at her wrists for a moment before he grasped her waist, firm yet gentle.

Without breaking eye contact, he guided her onto his lap, her legs straddling him as their bodies pressed flush against each other. The closeness was overwhelming, every point of contact sparking with heat. Y/N could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palms, mirroring the rapid thud of her own.

“Do you want…” he began, his voice low and husky, but Y/N cut him off with another kiss, her hands tangling in his hair as she pressed herself against him. There was no need for words; the way she arched into him, the way her breath hitched when his fingers traced the curve of her waist, said everything.

Lando laid her back against the pillows, his lips never leaving hers as he covered her body with his own. His touch was tender but insistent, exploring every inch of her as though he was memorizing her all over again. When his mouth found her neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin, Y/N couldn’t hold back a moan.

“Lando…” she breathed, her hands clutching at his shoulders. “Please…”

He didn’t need further encouragement. His hand slipped between her thighs, parting her folds with practiced ease, and she gasped as his fingers found her already slick and aching. He teased her slowly, circling her clit with just enough pressure to make her squirm, but not enough to push her over the edge.

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmured against her ear, his voice sending shivers down her spine. “Is this what you wanted earlier?”

“Yes,” she whimpered, her hips bucking against his hand. “Lando, please…”

He chuckled darkly, his teeth grazing her earlobe. “So impatient,” he teased, but finally gave her what she craved, sliding two fingers inside her and curling them just right. Y/N cried out, her back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed over her.

“That’s it, love,” he encouraged, his pace steady and unrelenting. “Let go for me.”

She obeyed, her climax hitting her hard and fast, her body trembling as she clung to him. Lando held her through it, whispering sweet nothings in her ear until she finally came down, her breathing ragged and her limbs heavy.

Before she could catch her breath, Lando shifted, his movements deliberate and unhurried. He hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers, maintaining eye contact as he slid them down and kicked them aside. The tension between them crackled like static electricity, every movement charged with anticipation. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, his hands gripping her hips as he entered her in one smooth thrust. They both groaned, the sensation overwhelming after the intensity of her orgasm.

He started slow, savoring every second, every movement. Each thrust was deliberate, drawing out every ounce of pleasure until Y/N was writhing beneath him once more. “You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice strained with effort. “I’ll never get tired of this.”

“Neither will I,” she gasped, her nails digging into his back as she lifted her hips to meet his. Their rhythm grew faster, more urgent, until neither could hold back any longer. Lando’s name fell from Y/N’s lips like a prayer as she came undone again, her body tightening around him. He followed close behind, burying his face in her neck as he spilled himself inside her.

[cattjull]

hii hehe,just before I request I wanted to say thaf I enjoy your fics a lot!! But do you think I could get Abby who gets home late fron partol to reader sound asleep but she’s just so needy and pent up from today patrol she can’t keep her hands to herself? It could be dom or sub doesn’t matter just need her to grind my ass

The promise.

a/n: I'm so sorry it took me forever! Also I suck at writing smut so I hope this lives up to your expectations. I'd really appreciate feedback from you!

cw: porn with barely minimum plot, somnophilia, ass humping (r!receiving), strap-on usage (a!receiving), dom!reader, sub!abby, hair pulling.

wc: 2200k.

As always, Abby had lost rock paper scissors against whoever-the-fuck it was this time. And as always, now she'd have to do the latest patrol, as you so much hated since you didn't have your pretty girl to cuddle you and help you sleep.

Now, Abby was frustratingly getting ready for patrol. As it was spring, she didn't need to put much clothes on. Easier to take off. You stared at her up and down as she took off her pajama shorts and tank top, leaving her in only her underwear. She acted so nonchalant while you were getting wetter and wetter with every single move she made, it was frustrating.

"You look so hot." You praised her, looking up at the big woman from your place on the bed. Your voice came out sultrier than ever, you were so turned on.

The look in your eyes, fiery, almost predatory, didn't go unnoticed by Abby. She carved a need in you so effortlessly it almost scared her, like you would never get tired of playing with her pink little hole. It was also one of the things she loved about you.

Abby's initial instinct when she noticed the tone in your voice was to look at the clock in your bedside table. She was already late.

"We can't, babe." She warned you as she put a grey tank top on that hugged her figure and made her biceps stand out.

"Why not? You'll be a few minutes late." You insisted with fake innocence, sitting up and already taking off your shorts.

"Last time you said that you tied me up for three hours." She retorted sternly as she finished pulling her pants up, trying to sound resentful as if she hadn't loved it. You snickered internally at the memory.

"You should learn about forgiveness." You said with a roll of your eyes as you took Abby's your oversize shirt off.

"When I get home you can fuck me." She promised you with a smile, showing her eagerness in her oh so beautiful eyes.

"But it's like... Three hours!" You complained. "I'll have to wait too much." You pouted slightly.

"Go to bed early, yeah? I'll eat you up as soon as I come back." The golden haired girl asked you gently, about to close the door behind her instead of giving up to your desires.

"No, baby, I promise I won't." You reassured fervently, even if she was asking for quite the opposite.

"I'll wake you up." She promised, as many times before.

"You're lying." You accused her, seeing right trough her lie.

Abby always told you white lies, and it was irritating at times. Telling you she'd wake you up when she came from a late patrol, saying she's not injured, lying to protect your poor heart. But it felt just annoying sometimes, so annoying you wanted to push her against the nearest surface and finger her until she forgot her own name.

"I'm not. I'll wake you up, yeah?" She insisted softly.

You wanted to make sure she woke you up this time. You sat up and walked to her, holding her hand and bringing specifically her middle and ring finger to your cunt. You moved your panties to the side and massaged yourself with her fingers, wettening quickly due to the slick that formed just by just seeing her changing clothes.

As you did that, you stared up at her, looking right into her blue eyes.

"You'll wake me up, will you?" You asked as you rubbed her fingers against your clit desperately, making you gasp.

"I..." She was at loss for words; you never failed to turn her on. "I will." She affirmed, a bit more surely this time as her voice turned breathy.

She quickly pulled her hand away from your underwear and walked out quickly before the temptation took over her and you found yourself dressing up again with annoyance.

You'd stay up, waiting for her. You'd show her.

Abby entered the house, tired from staying up for so long. Luckily she was not hurt; she didn't even face any infected or scar. It had been a quiet and unnecessary patrol, but at least she had had Manny by her side to keep her awake.

Even if in the first hour of patrol she had been eagerly thinking about coming back home and riding your thigh, or taking your fingers, or whatever you wanted her to do, she was too tired to wake you up and have sex. You could do it in the morning, like always.

That's the opinion she maintained until she opened the door to your shared room. There you were, as beautiful as a devil, sleeping like an angel. The only piece of clothing you had on was that lacy g string she loved so much, face down with a pillow between your legs. Her pillow.

All the neediness you gave her before patrol came back and crashed her down like a tsunami, drowning her in lust at the mere sight of your sleeping form as the ache between her thighs returned.

You had, indeed, did that on purpose, ensuring you fell asleep on that position.

She wouldn't wake you up, not when you looked so tired... She would be quiet, and gentle. Your ass was already up, maybe she could hump it. You had done the same with her other times and she woke up, but that was because she was a light sleeper... It wouldn't be the same for you.

As she finished reasoning, she quickly walked to the bathroom to clean her hands and came back to the bed. In a record time, she got rid of her boots and clothes, trying not to make any noise.

She jumped to the bed beside you and started rubbing slow, strong circles around her pulsating clit while she stared at your sleeping self, all quiet and pretty. It was all good until she realised she needed more.

Then she tried straddling your thigh and grinding on it. After one or two minutes, she gave up. It wasn't good enough.

She finally moved to your ass, which provided her the firmness she needed, the flesh being jiggly and perfect for her to ride, as if your ass was made for her to grind her pussy against it.

Time passed by as she grew needier and faster. Her pace slowly but surely grew rougher, her whimpers louder, and you already were soaked with her juices and she wasn't even that close to cumming.

A particularly rough grind, followed by a loud cry of your name, abruptly brought you back to lucidness. You felt Abby's weight over you, and at first you just didn't care. You fucked her when she wa asleep, she did too. No worries.

But then you remembered her promise.

The way she was using your poor sleeping body for herself, not even deigning to keep her word and wake you up to fuck you made your blood boil. How could she break such an important promise?

You waited until you felt her get weaker, her hands trembling at your sides. That's when you shifted, trying to get up and ruining her orgasm, what left Abby frozen in a mix of excitement and fear. You could be dangerous when she wasn't good or honest.

She immediately got off of you and you turned around, feeling her wetness all over your right buttcheek.

"I thought I told you to wake up." You reminded her, your voice already threatening even if you were still under the effect of sleepiness.

"Babe, you looked so peaceful sleeping..." She excused herself, her voice trembling and breathy. "I just wanted to cum." She said weakly with those doe eyes you loved, rubbing her thighs together as she tried to get back the pleasure she was feeling a few moments ago, but it was no use.

"Ass up now." You commanded, opening the drawer to take your clear strap. You quickly put it on, adjusting it, and climbed to the bed. You were still sleepy.

By the time you had finished adjusting it, Abby was already in her fours, back arched and her big, juicy ass on display just for you.

"Hmm, and now you're pretending to be a good girl." You said mischievously as you kneeled in front of her. "But I don't think you were. You promised to wake me up." You brought it up again, your voice cruel as you held the fake dick in your hand and introduced her in her mouth.

She tried to talk, but all that came out was a choked gagging. You took the strap out, wettened by her saliva in a way that made your walls clench.

"I'm so sorry. Didn't want to disturb your sleep." She gasped out, seemingly desperate for you to use your strap in her cunt and not just making her suck it.

"Too late." You retorted, and she knew from that tone in your voice that she wouldn't be treated any nicely.

"Please fuck me." She begged you, staring at you from her position.

"I was already planning on doing so." You admitted, your voice softening for a moment. "But first, suck it." You commanded, pushing your dick into her mouth roughly; she barely had time to open her mouth.

You spent around three minutes just making her suck your strap, making sure she got desperate. You didn't feel anything but an almost nonexistent brush against your clit, but the sight of her swallowing as much as she could from you almost made you feel like the silicone was a part of you, filling her mouth with precum.

Your clit pulsed so violently that you just pulled her braid back to stop her. You leaned against the headboard, still kneeling.

"Please." She pleaded almost religiously, as she should. Her blue orbs stared right into your soul, filling it with a sinful mix of compassion and lust. You would've loved to make her suck your strap and beg for you much more, but you also needed her. You yanked at her braid a little harder, earning a soft moan from her throat.

"There's no please. If you want me then fuck yourself on me." You replied simply in an icy yet mocking tone, hoping to fullfill your own needs.

She turned around and positioned herself with her ass right against your strap. She started moving up and down, letting the tip of the silicone rub against her, making her even more wet than she was already from her previous orgasm.

She then finally let your dick slide easily inside of her, letting out a soft whimper of relief.

"You're so wet." You mocked her.

"I just missed this..." She sighed out as she started bouncing back against you, using enough force so she was hitting your clit just the way you needed it.

Her braid was right there, adorning her back, inviting you. You yanked it back, drawing out a gasp from her and seemingly motivating her to get herself off on you with more force than before. Her pace was slow, but firm. Her ass bounced and slapped against you in that way that would leave you dazzled and drooling every time.

She grew needier and needier as time passed by, becoming more desperate and unable to speed up due to the position in which she was. You noticed she was close to cumming, probably due to her own arousal rather than because of the little amount of pleasure she was receiving from you.

You noticed her legs started trembling. That's when you placed your hands in her waist and started slamming your hips against her with no mercy, not only for her but also because you needed more friction against your clit.

You felt so close now that you were the one strapping her and not her fucking herself on you since you could apply as much force as you needed for the base of the strap to rub your clit just right. Your climax was slowly approaching you, and so was Abby's.

You started thrusting faster and harder. Since the whole time you hadn't made a move, you had enough stamina to fuck her as hard as you wanted, slamming into her walls rapidly.

"Can I... Babe..." She cried out loudly, clearly affected by your pace. Your hand gripped the back of her hips tightly, moving them as you pleased against you to get that sweet relief you needed.

"Yes! Oh my god, Abby, yes!" You screamed, already cumming. A loud moan followed by a trail of curses came out of your mouth as you moved faster, riding out your orgasm.

Abby's orgasm crashed her like a wave, slow but intense enough to drown her in pleasure.

"Fuck! Yes baby there there there...." She begged until she started babbling stupidly, encouraging you to push the strap deeper and deeper inside of her pretty pussy.

You kept going and ruthing your dick into her at that same relentless pace until she started sobbing and gripping the bed sheets hard. You weren't really into overstimulation; seeing Abby uncomfortable made your heart twist and clench and want to stop working. So as soon as you noticed her orgasm had already gone, you gave her one last thrust before sliding out of her entrance and kissing her cheek.

"Eat me out as you promised and we'll go to sleep, alright?" You asked demanded her sweetly.

[bluebeads-art]

2024 December 24th

SECRET SANTA ATTACK!! A beetle Loop for my gift victim @petrii-dish >:3c

I saw "insects" and "Loop" on their wishlist and neurons started firing. I'm always saying that I love when people creature-fy characters I like, but I've never done the creature-ing myself until now!

While going through Pep's blog for inspiration, I saw art of a woolly chafer beetle drawn by @/bowelfly. I'd never seen them before, and let me tell you they're the cutest bug I've ever seen and I was obsessed with them immediately. So round... so woolly...

As I was going down the woolly chafer appreciation rabbit hole, I started noticing traits I could incorporate into Loop's design. And thus; beetle Loop! :] (Although their antennae are more common cockchafer inspired. Their big antenna fans are so fancy!)

Lots of rambling and bonus art of a much more beetle-looking Loop under the cut, so be warned if you're squicked by bugs

The creatuuuure. Boop here was my first time trying to draw organic shapes with vanishing point guides and such. It went... okay...? No clue how people apply that to more complicated shapes like people though, heh.

Anyways, back to the humanoid Boops. The design elements I focused on were the antenna leaves looking like those shards of light you can see in the opening CG and some of Loop's portraits, the fluff and tibia spikes substituting for Loop's skin frizzles, wings with veins made up of constellations, and that very peculiar angular elytra shape. ;)

I had to stop myself from going ham and making the design super detailed, because I wanted it to look like something you could reasonably imagine in-game. I think I did alright in that regard! Their suspicious elytra ended up feeling fitting too, since only seeing them from the front in-game would make that foreshadowing more subtle. Also, while my decision to make them a beetle was 100% just "I really love that beetle I saw", I like the implication that the Universe was like, "Stars, you have a thick shell. Become a beetle." 😂

I struggled for a bit trying to place clock hands in the first drawing, but then I started to think that a handless clock is kinda fitting? Love when I can cover laziness with symbolism. :P

Time taken on designing and the first two drawings was 31 hours and 34 minutes (I forgot to tally them separately whoops), and beetle Boop took 8 hours and 44 minutes. It was supposed to be a doodle (because common cockchafers are sometimes called "doodlebugs" get it-) but I'm SO bad at doodling. Got lost in the perspective ruler sauce.

Check out @isat-secretsanta-2024 for more cool art, and have a happy holiday! ♥

[aestas---estas]

Working hands

MDNI 18+ | Part 1 | Part 2 | Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | ~4,6k words | fem!reader, assistant!reader, reader described as shorter than Simon, suspend your disbelief for how long it is inbetween missions, basically all fluff | if I forgot a tag/tw please tell me | divider by @cafekitsune | Read on AO3

It's early Saturday morning and you get woken up by a strong fist incessantly knocking on your front door. It's pointed and regular, military in its consistency. While Price knows where you live — it's on your paperwork after all — and you have no doubt in your mind that both Johnny and Kyle could've easily found out, you know in your bones that it's Simon.

“Coming!” You call out, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you quickly find a pair of sweatpants to throw on; it would probably be in bad form to open the door in only a washed-out shirt and underwear. You stop in front of the bathroom mirror to quickly fix your bed hair as much as possible, splashing some cold water on your face in an attempt to look more awake than you feel. Simon’s still knocking intermittently and you can practically hear the irritation he’s starting to feel through the door — the man does not like to be ignored or left to wait.

“Good morning,” you say as you finally fling your door open, annoyance at having been so rudely interrupted clear in your voice despite the amicable words. He’s standing with his fist raised, ready to knock once more, a tool kit gripped in his other hand and you eye it curiously. “What-?”

You don’t really know how to end the sentence — what is he doing here? What’s with the tool kit? What makes him think he can wake you at 7:30 in the morning on your day off? — but you’re cut off before you manage to get another word past your lips, as he’s already made his way into your flat and toward the bathroom.

In confusion you close the front door and follow behind, your bare feet padding against the cool wooden floor, making you wish — not for the first time — that your landlord allowed heated floors. Simon’s courteous enough to have already toed off his boots by your shoe rack, so at least you don’t have to clean up dirt and grime, but the barging his way inside your space only worked to further annoy and confuse you.

“Simon, it’s not even 8,” you say as you lean against the doorframe of your bathroom, watching as he gets down on his knees in front of the broken washing machine you still hadn’t had a chance to look at. The annoyance seeps out of you as you remember the conversation you had that Monday; about how you wanted to return his jacket washed, but hadn’t been able to do your laundry. It’s a thoughtful gesture, one you can’t help but smile in appreciation at.

“I’m an early riser,” is all Simon says in return, not even glancing your way. He’s already busy with turning the machine on and off, looking at all the hoses and pipes, to try and discern what the issue might be.

For a moment, you just stay there, watching him quietly. He’s not wearing the skull mask or printed balaclava that had become synonymous with his alias, but rather a more simple black surgical mask. You don’t really know what you expected Simon to look like; you knew he was blonde, something Johnny had once shared with you to tease his Lieutenant, yet the sight of the surprisingly well groomed tresses on his head make something inside of you stir. His hair is just long enough for you to be able to card your fingers through it, and his left eyebrow is cleaved in half from a faded scar. You can’t see his jaw or chin properly, and the only time you remember him ever lifting his mask in your presence was to drink his beer in the pub all those weeks ago before he walked you home. You’d been drunk back then, hadn’t had the sense of mind to memorise his visage, and you mentally kick yourself about it now.

“It’s the water,” you supply, wanting to be helpful and hopefully distract yourself from thoughts of how it would feel to pet his hair and trace his scars, and Simon turns his head to glance at you. “It doesn’t drain properly, overflows about half the time too.”

Simon nods before turning back to the washing machine, pulling it away from the wall with little effort. “Sounds like the hose, or maybe the drainpipe. Could also be the lint trap. If there is one.” He’s mumbling more to himself than to you at this point, craning his neck to look at the backside of the machine all while nodding or shaking his head, making mental notes of possible solutions.

“Might be a while, love. Why don’t you go make us some tea?” It’s the out you didn’t know you wanted, but the second the suggestion leaves Simon’s lips you pounce on it, leaving the bathroom for the kitchen with no words or fuss.

You make two cups of some berry blend one of your friends got you as a birthday present — the mugs are white, bland, a little too boring for your liking, but they get the job done. And besides, you have more important things to spend your money on than crockery.

When you return to the bathroom, two steaming mugs in hand, you can’t help but stare at Simon for a moment before making yourself known. While the hoodie he’s wearing doesn’t provide you with much, his jeans are tight fitting around those muscular thighs of his, especially with the way he keeps crouching and kneeling. God, he’s got an ass too. The thought makes heat race to your face and you pull your eyes away from the enticing view of his rear.

“One cup for you,” you say, placing the tea down on top of the washing machine for whenever he feels like taking a sip. He sends you an appreciative look before focusing back on the task at hand; you’re both relieved and disappointed that he didn’t remove the face mask to have a taste of the drink right then and there. But then again, if he did, you’re more than sure that his uncovered visage would haunt your dreams in the best way possible.

“I’ll, uh, leave you to it then,” you say when he makes no move to speak again. 

It’s odd having Simon in your space like this. Sure, he spent the night on the couch that night after the pub. But you had been drunk then, had thought of nothing but the soft embrace of your bed that awaited you. Now you’re both sober, both clear minded and both all too aware of whatever it is that’s been growing between the two of you. 

Usually on your days off you would sleep in, would take a long shower so hot the fog on the mirror wouldn’t disappear for over an hour afterwards, would even make a proper breakfast if you had the energy for it. But Simon was currently occupying your bathroom, so a shower was out of the question, and while a short nap as he worked didn’t sound so bad it felt almost rude to go back to sleep as long as he was still there. He was doing something sweet for you; fixing something you hadn’t had the time or money to fix yet yourself.

So instead of your usual routine, you plant yourself under a blanket on the sofa with a new book you’d been meaning to read but haven’t had the chance to just yet and turn on some music. You can hear Simon in the bathroom, the clattering of tools and humming of the washing machine as he starts and stops new cycles every so often. The whole thing feels almost domestic, and it tugs on your heart in a way you don’t want to look too deep into.

---

“Can I ask you something?” you question and Simon grunts in that affirmative way he always does when you knock on his office door in the mornings. He had felt you coming back into the bathroom five minutes ago, leaning against the door frame, watching him with inquisitive eyes; but he had kept his attention on the washing machine. “Why do you wear that mask?”

If you hadn’t been studying him so intensely, you might’ve not noticed the way his shoulders and back tensed for half a second; it’s gone before you even have a chance to ponder about his reaction.

“Anonymity,” he answers at length, but you can tell there is more to it. Most of the other operators don't wear facial coverings — and if they do, it’s only while in active combat.

You understood wanting to keep his identity anonymous in the field, not letting the enemies know his name or face, it was dangerous work what he did after all, yet you couldn’t help but press. “Everyone on base already knows your name. And besides, there’s no one around but me right now.” Who are you hiding from? is what goes unasked, but the question still makes the air around you both feel heavy.

“They know what I want them to know,” he supplies, as if that would be a satisfactory answer. And it is, you suppose, at least somewhat. It doesn’t answer why exactly he keeps himself closed off, why no one — not even the men he fights beside — knows what he looks like. But it does tell you that he’s deeply paranoid and near obsessive with personal security. It tells you that he’s willing to show more of himself to the few he deems worthy; god, you want to be worthy.

“When’s the last time you took it off?” It’s a gamble of a question, but you know if Simon wants to leave the conversation he’ll let you know it in no uncertain terms.

“Last night.” You roll your eyes at that, because of course he doesn’t sleep with a stupid balaclava or face mask — maybe in the field, but you don’t know what goes on during their missions if it’s not in the reports.

“I meant with someone else in the room, Simon,” you tell him and cross your arms over your chest.

It’s quiet for a few moments, seconds stretching into minutes as Simon gives no indication of giving you a reply. Just as you let out a sigh, ready to give up on the conversation and walk back to your living room, he speaks. “It’s been… a while. Years.”

You don’t feel sorry for him, you have a feeling Simon wouldn't take kindly to pity, but empathy courses through your veins at the pain evident in his voice. He puts down the tool in his hand, turning his head just enough to make you appear in his vision, but makes no move to stand up. You realise he’s studying you, your reactions, your body language, every micro expression you don’t have the education to hide like he does.

“That sounds lonely,” you eventually say, taking the few steps from the doorway to where he’s kneeling beside the washing machine, lowering yourself until you’re eye-to-eye. “If you ever…” you hesitate for a second, but the fact that Simon has yet to end the conversation makes you power through. “I’ll be here, if you ever want to show someone.”

It’s not a demand or a manipulative tactic to get him to feel secure before ripping the rug out from under him; you genuinely want to be there for him, face or no face, want him to not go through his life with that crushing loneliness that’s been making it hard to breathe freely for years. Your eyes shine with open honesty and it’s almost too much for Simon to bear. He nearly tells you everything then; about his past, his family, Roba, everything. But you seem so innocent, untouched by the cruel reality of the world. And although he’s destroyed more uncorrupted and pure lives than yours, he wants you to keep living in the bubble of life is worth living for as long as possible.

“It’s not pretty,” is what he says instead. It — his life, him. A sad smile passes your lips as you nod your understanding.

“I’ll be here,” you repeat, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze before standing and leaving him alone in the bathroom to work.

Simon stays there for another half hour before packing everything up and making his way towards the door. Truth be told he had figured out the issue after only ten minutes, had fixed the problem — a clog in the drain pipe — as slow as possible just to be in your presence for a few minutes longer. He knew he had disrupted your morning, had woken you up too early on your day off just to selfishly indulge his own need for your warmth, and now you were offering him unadulterated support without demanding anything in return. He didn’t deserve your kindness, had used your predicament to satisfy his own wants. It made him feel low, dirty, unworthy. 

“It works now,” Simon tells you as he walks past your spot on the couch, heading towards the front door without a second glance back.

Quickly you scramble from the couch and follow behind him, the blanket once more wrapped around your form. “Thank you,” you say, your eyes tracking his movements as he pulls on his jacket. “I’ll get your jacket back as soon as it’s washed.”

Simon shakes his head. “Told you, love, keep it.” There it is again; love. Before that weekend he had never called you that, and in the moment you had assumed the nickname had slipped from his lips the same way you had called him baby — simply to sell the illusion of a relationship so the creepy guy at the club would leave you alone. But now you couldn’t be so sure.

“At least let me buy you lunch or something as a thank you,” you insist, catching him by the wrist as he reaches for the door handle, grasping at straws for anything that would allow him to stay in your life. You had always done a good job at keeping your private and professional lives separate; but that was before Simon.

Simon’s eyes flicker down to where your fingers envelop his wrist, but he does not shift out of your grasp nor tell you to let go; so you don’t. “It doesn’t have to mean anything other than thanks,” you say, hoping the reassurance will help him decide.

Something indescribable passes through his eyes before he gives a firm nod. “I’m not much of a restaurant guy, but… a lunch sounds nice.”

“Great!” You beam, something akin to butterflies fluttering around inside your chest. “We can order in if that makes you more comfortable.”

Simon nods and it feels like he wants to say something, but no words leave his lips before he’s out the door.

---

As the hours of the day tick by, you find yourself glancing over to the hook where Simon’s jacket hangs. He said you could keep it, that it looks better on you. It feels wrong both to keep it — like you're owed something when you're not — and to give it back — like you don't appreciate his gesture of friendship.

It's a tightrope, one you can't navigate properly, one that wobbles and every step threatens to topple you over. It's anxiety inducing yet the most excited you've been in a while.

Deciding to bite the bullet, you send him a text.

Hope I didn’t scare you away with the invite to lunch.

You chew nervously on your bottom lip, already dreading his reply, but before your inevitable anxiety can spin out of control, your phone buzzes in your hand and the screen lights up with a new message.

You have plans tomorrow?

You don’t, actually, and tell him as much. It’s a few, short back and forths after that — Simon is concise even in text — but you have an official game plan that involves takeaway from the Indian place down the street and Simon showing up at your place around noon.

---

Simon had left the ordering up to you, having no idea what was good at the chosen restaurant — but he trusted you to guide him. He shows up just as you hang up on the Indian place, a can of WD-40 in hand, and you raise an eyebrow in question.

“Heard the god awful squeaking of the hinges on your bathroom door yesterday,” he explains with a shrug before making his way over to it without invitation.

You follow behind with a soft smile on your face, watching with more fascination than really necessary as he sprays the hinges and moves the door back and forth a few times until satisfied.

“Thank you. You didn't have to,” you say, giving his bicep a quick squeeze in gratitude. You'd lived with those squeaking hinges for months now, it had annoyed you in the beginning but it quickly fell into the background and it just became a noise you now ignored. 

“The food should be here in fifteen minutes,” you add.

“Alright.” Simon gives you a short nod, not quite meeting your eyes. If you hadn't known him, you would've thought he was uncomfortable or seeking an escape — but you did know him, knew that he would just up and leave if that was his prerogative. But he was here. He brought lubricant for your door without prompting. He entrusted you to pick the restaurant and the food. 

“Do you wanna sit?” you ask, gesturing to the couch; a fluffy blanket was draped over one of the armrests, embarrassing really how many times you folded the damn thing while cleaning up to make everything look presentable.

You were nervous, buzzing with both excitement and anxiety. You had hung out with Simon one-on-one before, a few times where he had walked you home from the pub, that time you called him after being ditched by your friends at the club, every single morning when you brought him a cup of tea in the office, and just yesterday when he had showed up unannounced to play handyman. But it had never been anything preplanned, you had never had time to rethink your decor and spend hours meticulously vacuuming and dusting and rearranging everything. And the realisation from the day before, about how kind and strong and capable and downright attractive he was, did not help.

You knew you wanted this to be a date, but there had been no clear confirmation from either side whether it was or wasn’t. Maybe he just saw this as lunch between co-workers, or as some sort of indebted meal because he fixed a problem that was entirely yours to sort.

It comes as no surprise when Simon spreads his legs wide on the couch when taking a seat, one arm on the armrest, the other slung lazily across the back. You knew if you sat down next to him, his knee would press against yours and his hand would be dangerously close to falling around your shoulders.

It was an easy choice, really, to plop yourself down beside him.

The conversation flowed easily, one topic blended into the next, Simon relaxed fully in his seat and you found yourself smiling enough to make your cheeks ache. It wasn’t until after you had thanked the delivery driver for the food and was starting to unload the various dishes you had ordered onto the coffee table, that his previous visible trepidation came back.

“I may have gone a little overboard,” you explain nervously, eyes downcast as you organise and open the boxes of food. They smelled delicious, and steam was rising from all of them; it nearly made your mouth water. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I ordered a little of everything.”

It’s good to have left-overs, your brain chimed in in defence of your own actions.

“‘S not that,” Simon replies, reaching for one of the dishes. You study his movements from the corner of your eye and as he stops his hand mid-air to his face you realise what the problem is — the mask.

“I can… turn around or something,” you supply, hoping to be helpful, to ease his nerves. But Simon just shakes his head and pulls the band away from behind his ear, letting the mask dangle for just a moment before unhooking the other side too.

You try not to stare — it’s obviously a big step, something significant that he chose to do with you — but it’s hard to tear your eyes away when the image in your head of what he looked like was actively being shattered and reformed.

There’s a raised, jagged line across his right cheek, a bump that makes his nose just a little crooked from where it hadn’t set properly after being broken, another smaller scar down the left side of his jaw. But the one mark that rocks you the most is the Glasgow smile. It’s only one side, but it’s clear as day that it wasn’t just someone getting a little too close with a knife in the field; it’s meticulous, sharp, someone with a steady hand had held his face still enough to carve it slowly. Not a battlescar, but rather one from torture.

You shake your head slightly, forcing yourself out of the spiral you’re otherwise likely to go down, and grab one of the boxes at random. “Let’s eat.” You hope your voice doesn’t shake, but when Simon raises an eyebrow you know you’ve failed.

“It’s okay to say it. It’s ugly. Told you it was.” He doesn’t sound mad about it, more exhaustedly used to it. Like it was an inevitability you would find him unattractive once he showed you everything.

As if instinctual, your hand shoots out to cup his knee. You can’t give him reassuring words, because the scars are awful, and you know Simon would see right through you if you try to lie and say you barely noticed. But they don’t take away from his attractiveness; rather, they make you sad at everything he’s gone through and angry at every person that’s inflicted pain upon him and forced him into the hard shell he now hides behind.

For a split second, Simon freezes, the unexpected touch sending adrenaline coursing through his veins as his body gets ready for a fight that never comes. He’s unaccustomed to friendly and harmless touching, at least the kind that lingers. The occasional congratulatory pat on his shoulder from his captain and teammates, but never one from someone like you.

“Let’s eat,” you repeat, giving his knee a quick squeeze before resituating yourself on the couch and digging into your food.

---

It becomes a form of routine after that; Simon showing up at your place the weekends he has off. More often than not he’s got a toolbox in hand, fixing small things around your flat that he grumbles that your lazy landlord should’ve already fixed ages ago. You always say it’s not his job, that you’re used to the leaky tap and squeaking hinges and uneven shelves, and then thank him with the offer of lunch, trying a new restaurant every week; he seems particularly fond of the various noodle dishes they provide so you order those more than anything else.

Eventually he starts placing the black KN95 on your entryway table when the front door closes behind him. You never mention it, and neither does Simon. And even when there’s nothing left to fix (apart from completely ripping the floorboards up and installing heating, but you vehemently refuse to let him do that in fear of being kicked out), he still shows up for lunch and just a conversation. Most of the time he lets you ramble on about whatever you please, chiming in with hums of acknowledgements and one-worded replies — if he was being honest with himself he could listen to you talk for hours and be satiated.

You kiss his cheek goodbye every time before he shrouds his features again with the mask; your lips are soft and reverent, right over the scar that gives him a perpetually lopsided smile. It takes Simon four goodbyes to let his hands rest, warm and heavy with intent, on your waist, and it makes butterflies flutter to life in your stomach.

It’s a simple gesture, inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, but it’s also a big step. While you haven’t shied away from physical intimacy — a hand squeeze here, a bumping of shoulders there, all the cheek kisses — it was the first time Simon allowed himself to reciprocate.

It takes him two more goodbyes to finally angle his face enough to let your kiss catch the corner of his lips.

“Sorry,” you mumble and try to take a step back, but Simon’s grip tightens and keeps you firmly in place.

“Don’t be. I’m not.”

Oh.

Oh.

Carefully you raise your arms to wrap around his neck, going slow enough that even just a twitch from Simon would stop you in your tracks. But he stays still as a statue, eyes flickering between yours before settling at your lips.

“Is this okay?” you ask, your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, nails gently scratching his scalp.

“More than,” Simon replies, his breath washing over your face as he dips down, letting his lips hover over yours, his every exhale intermingling with yours.

You press yourself closer and in turn his hands slide from your sides and around your back, holding you in place firmly against him, his touch leaving a scorching trail on your skin despite the fabric that separates you.

You don’t know who moves first, who closes the small distance between you, but suddenly his lips are on yours and the butterflies in your stomach metamorphosize into fireworks and you can feel your heart race against your ribcage. His lips are warm, softer than you'd imagined, and you can still taste the cigarette he smoked before entering the building. Your fingers tug gently at his curls, angling his face to your liking so you can easier slot your lips over his.

A broken moan leaves your throat as Simon’s tongue finds yours and it’s all he can do to not push you up against the wall and fuck you right then and there. God knows he’s fantasised about it enough, fisted his cock to mental images of how you’d sound as he punched the air out of you with every thrust, how you’d look with his cum dripping down your thighs, how your eyes would roll to the back of your skull as he wrings out another orgasm from your already spent body. But he knows that’s not the way to go about this, not if he wants to keep you.

He licks into your mouth, exploring and teasing all at once, indulging in the sounds you let slip from your lips. His hands twitch, eager to wander over your body, but settles on curling his fingers in your shirt, pulling you impossibly closer.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you trying to kill me?” Simon rasps when you eventually break to catch your breaths and your teeth nip at his lower lip.

“No,” you hum and trail a hand down his face and neck, smoothing your thumb over every risen scar in a show of unadulterated affection that makes him preen under your touch. “Quite like you alive. Like you a lot actually.”

Simon surges forward again, captures your lips in another bruising kiss because, fuck, if that doesn’t make his heart soar.

He doesn’t know what the future holds, how this will affect both his and your work, neither of you do. But he knows he’d rather be right here, with you in his arms, kissing you senseless, than anywhere else in the world.

--- Masterlist

[insomniadreamzz]

Hi!

What do you think about Jinx x fem reader SNOWBALL FIGHT! I feel like it could be really fun. Maybe it could end getting tackled by Jinx and kissing in the snow!

This is just a thought I had, hope you have a great day!!!

Omg thats such a cute idea 😭😭❤️

———

Snowball fight

Jinx x Fem!Reader fluff

You hated that cold weather, you only went out because Jinx really wanted to go out in the snow with you and of course you couldn’t say no to her.

You hated the way that you couldn’t say no as the cold aur hit your face, only thing being warm was your hand which was holding Jinx‘s hand. Sometimes you wonder how she could do this, being out there without a jacket, clothed like always. You could figure out that she was already used to feeling cold so every attempt to make her wear warm clothing before going out failed.

„Jinx…you sure you’re not cold?“ You ask her the millionth time now, making her roll her eyes and a little grunt leaving her lips. „Nooo I am not“ She answered, letting go of your hand as she stormed through the snow, your legs freezing at only the look of her stomping through it as if it was nothing. You sighed, sometimes Jinx‘s inner child really took all of you but she was cute. You closed your eyes as you hugged herself, trying to warm yourself up before you felt something cold hit your face, followed by Jinx laughing at you.

„Oopsie! Your face is all white now toots!!“ She yelled at you, already having another snow ball in her hand. „You little-…“ You started with a chuckle but then decided to stop, forming a snowball in your hands before aiming at her. Of course Jinx used her shimmer for better speed so you didn’t hit her, only getting hit by another snowball of her.

„Hey! That’s not fair stop using your shimmer.“ You said, but there was still a smile on your face, already ready to throw again. „Well…okay I won’t do that again. Fair play.“ Jinx answered, giving in quickly and not wanting to be unfair towards you.

You both keep on throwing snowballs at each other, playing in the snow like little kids, letting both of your inner child out right now and it was beautiful, you even forgot about the cold, managing to hit Jinx every now and then as well.

You tried to dodge her attacks with a chuckle, running away from her to get a little time to form more nowballs but Jinx was already running after you, tripping over her own feet as she fell on you, making you both fall on the snow with a thud. Both of you laughing. Jinx lifted her head up, her hands on your shoulders as she looked down at you with a cute smile. „Got ya.“ She giggled and you moved your hands up in defense. „Alright alright I surrender. What does the winner want?“ You asked jokingly but she took your question serious. „Uhh…a kiss.“ She mentioned and the smile on your face couldn’t be wider.

You both kissed in the snow, both feeling warm and exhausted after the little game. It was a beautiful moment, you cupped her cheeks, pulling her more closer to kiss her even deeper, a hum leaving her lips. You both look at each other as you pulled back, both of your faces being red, probably because of the cold and the intimate moment you shared seconds ago. „I love you.“ You told her and she pecked your lips in response. „I love you too Toots.“

After admiring each other for a little more, Jinx got off you and helped you up. „How about getting home now into bed under our warm sheets?“ You suggested and Jinx nodded. „Yep! And maybe more cuddles??“

„Of course.“ You won‘t ever say no to cuddling, you loved it but of course you also know what cuddling meant especially when Jinx said it…knowing you will soon feel very hot.

You both made your way back home, holding hands like a fresh couple. You will always love her like the first time you fell for her.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Hogwarts AU [pt. 3]

The third time is... rather different.

Tim is standing still and prim in his new dress robes between both his parents, the shining and glittering ballroom full of soft chatter, music, and clanking glasses right behind him.

Daniel is standing in front of him, his back straight and his hair styled and gelled to the point where it looks like a beret on his head. He is wearing all white, pristine and perfect, and Mr. Masters, who is standing on his right, is dressed in a similar fashion. The man looks like a marble statue, if Tim is being honest, what with his pale skin, silvery hair and light blue, almost colorless eyes.

Tim hadn't paid attention to it before - to be fair, it's not like he had a chance to see Daniel up close until today - but the boy is also very pale. Not a hint of blush on his cheeks, no freckles or birthmarks that he can see. If Tim hadn't seen him move, he would have been certain he was looking at a porcelain doll, not a human being.

The other person accompanying them is a woman with short, cut just below her ears, ginger hair. And, unlike both Daniel and Mr. Masters, she is not as colorless, wearing a dress in light, shimmering blue, with a high laced collar and tight sleeves. She is smiling pleasantly at Mother as she greets her, keeping her hand on Daniel's shoulder, and, overall, looks a lot more alive than anyone Tim has so far met or seen tonight.

Which is nice. Tim didn't think that when people heard the name 'Winter Ball', they were meant to take it literally and show up acting like frozen sculptures.

The ginger-haired lady curtsies with a smile, and both Mr. Masters and Daniel nod before going past them and entering the ballroom of Drake manor. Tim glances over his shoulder - Daniel kept looking at him as if they've never met before, and Tim is not sure what to think of it - but the boy keeps walking after his chaperones without as much as acknowledging him.

It's only when Tim starts turning his head back that he sees the other boy shoot him a tiny grin over his shoulder.

Tim might not be an expert in body language or socializing, but even he knows that grin means nothing good for the guests at the Ball. Especially given Daniel's previous records. Tim bites back a smile of his own.

Good. This party can definitely use some elephant trunks, in his opinion.

~~~

Roughly an hour later, when Tim had long lost sight of the whole Masters family in the glittering crowd, and, to be honest, kind of forgot to anticipate whatever Daniel was going to do, the boy shows up in front of him again.

He appears from what seems to be thin air, out of breath but with his robes still perfectly white - Tim suspects some sort of spell - and cuts right in between Stephanie and Tim, grabbing the latter's wrist.

"Dance with me," he breathes out urgently, and Tim blinks. Daniel's fingers are cold as ice on his skin.

"What?" He asks, baffled, and Stephanie makes a loud, undignified snort, not bothering to cover her mouth. Daniel shoots her a quick surprised look, like he didn't even see her until she made a sound, but she just shakes her head and makes a tiny step away.

"I don't dance," she says, an innocent smile on her lips, and that's a lie, Tim knows she can dance, she did that not ten minutes ago. She just wants Tim to suffer, the blond traitor in an embroidered dress.

"Good, because I didn't invite you," Daniel smirks, tilting his head to the side, and it should sound like an insult, but somehow doesn't. Stephanie grins back. Tim has an awfully damning feeling like the two of them would get along like a house on fire, given half a chance. And he doesn't like that idea.

Merlin, when he wished for the ball to be a little bit more fun than it is, he didn't mean this. Not that he intends on stopping either of them, but he is pretty sure they are not allowed to join efforts because that will end with the ballroom in ruins. And Tim likes his house in one piece, thanks.

It's also quite irritating how the two of them can just exchange ten words with each other and become friends.

Tim twists his hand in Daniel's grip and grabs him, all but dragging the boy away from Stephanie and to the brightly lit dancefloor. He wanted to dance? Tim can dance, no problem. He bets he can dance ten times better than Daniel, he's had so many lessons.

The boy makes a short, surprised sound at the sudden movement, but then follows suit without a word. His hand is still cold. Maybe one of them should wear gloves.

"Why did you want to dance?" Tim asks, as they get to the edge of the crowd, where the glitter of jewels and the flurry of robes are making a complicated picture of waltz. Why did you ask me, Tim wants to ask, actually, but he is not sure he wants an answer.

Daniel pulls him back by their still joined hands, making Tim turn around, and puts his other hand on Tim's waist, like it's the most natural thing ever. Dancing, right. Tim puts his own hand on Daniel's shoulder and steps closer.

"Sam would actually murder me if I asked her, and I don't know anyone else," the boy explains with a careless shrug, tilting his head to the side and listening to the music. Tim sees his lips move but hears no words - counting the steps, no doubt.

"You don't even know my name," Tim rolls his eyes, and maybe he is a little petty, but he doesn't need to count steps. He just pulls Daniel into the dance, careful enough not to bump into anyone else. The boy follows his lead easily enough, even though he seems a lot more concentrated on where he puts his feet than Tim is. So, he is better at dancing. Nice to know.

"I do, you're Tim," Daniel tells him a few minutes later, when both of them are fairly confident they are not going to trip over each other's feet. Although Tim almost does anyway - he didn't expect that.

On the other hand, it's probably Samantha who told him. Mrs. Manson brought her over to Drake estate a few times but made sure not to invite Tim to Manson's. Probably in order to avoid the same daring escape to happen twice.

"And you're Daniel, but we were never introduced," he counters, "You're not supposed to know."

"That's a stupid rule," Daniel huffs and loses his footing slightly, stepping on Tim's toe, "Oh, sorry. And it's Danny, not Daniel. I hate 'Daniel'."

Tim rolls his eyes and is a little proud that it doesn't cause a single pause in his steps.

But then, there's a crackle up in the air above them, like a firework that went off too close to the ground, and that causes Tim to startle and almost trip over Danie- Danny. The boy's grip on his waist tightens as he keeps Tim from falling, and when Tim looks back up at him, Danny is grinning, wide and excited, and happy.

Just like he did back when they first met. Well, when Tim first saw him.

Which is kind of making Tim's stomach feel weird, but also can only mean one thing.

Tim looks up.

The chandeliers in the ballroom are all giant and lit with a thousand candles, and the patterns of countless mirrors on the ceiling and walls only make the lights seem endless. Not a starry sky, but a myriad of tiny suns thrown all over the high ceilings.

Another crackle follows the first one, and Tim sees a dozen of tiny explosions go off from the chandelier, shooting in all directions and turning into bursts of white, sparkling stardust that slowly fades in the air.

"Pretty, right?" Danny asks quietly as more and more little stars are born high above the crowd, filling the air with shimmering lights. Tim suddenly realizes that they've stopped dancing - and everyone else did, too - and his mouth is hanging open, because this is the prettiest thing he's ever seen, and he didn't expect Danny to do something beautiful. He expected a prank, a joke, something ridiculous like the elephant trunks or the escape on a broom, but this-

This is magic.

Tim can't look away, he doesn't want to look away, but he still tears his gaze from the ceiling and looks at Danny.

"How did you do it?" He asks, quiet enough so no one would hear them over all the fireworks. The boy shrugs nonchalantly, but his eyes hold the reflection of all the sparkling stars above them.

"If I tell you, it won't be that fun," he says, smiling.

Tim doesn't ask again, instead looking back up to the ceiling full of exploding sparks.

It's the best party he's ever seen.

—☆—☆—☆—

Visuals that I might have spent too much time looking for:

And Tim's obligatory post-party drawings:

[Picrew]

Also, for the ambiance reasons, listen to the 'Once Upon a December' cover by Céline Lavigne.

—☆—☆—☆—

More random info on the characters:

Stephanie Brown is related to Lavender Brown, they are distant cousins, with Steph being a few years older. Her father is currently in Azkaban, and due to this fact, Steph and her mother are not often welcome in most social circles. They have a somewhat tense relationship with the rest of Brown family, but they are not ostracized, just generally frowned upon. Steph doesn't care much, though, you can break walls with her self-esteem. Her mother was a Hufflepuff, and she wants to be one as well.

Jack stayed home with Dani because she is too young to go through a whole ball without getting bored and stirring up some trouble. Danny was allowed to go under the condition that he won't ruin the evening, and he didn't! He made it better for all he knows! Malicious compliance, his favorite tool to use.

Later that evening the guests kept giving Jack and Janet Drake their compliments for the fireworks, and they both gladly accepted them, all while wondering who the fuck did that.

Neither Tim nor Vlad or Maddie, who knew who's at fault, said anything, although Maddie did ask Danny to never do that again without giving prior warning.

[<- part 2 | part 4 ->]

[devil-doms]

Thinking about Levi with a MC that sleeps naked

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS/BLANK BLOGS DNI. NO AGE IN BIO = BLOCKED

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:* ☁︎*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

Levi had stayed up so late marathoning an anime for an upcoming movie you guys were going to go see together later in the day.

He had just finished the series and he was beyond excited to recap it to you. Without looking at the time, he bolts to your room and basically knocks the door down.

The sound of the door smacking into your wall makes you jump and sit up in your bed, holding your blanket to your chest.

“MC! MC! I JUST FINISHED THE SERIES AGAIN AND IM EXCITED FOR THE MOVIE BECAUSE I FORGOT THAT…” Levi starts to trail off.

“Dude, do you have any idea what time it is right now…?” You say, slouching back down into your blankets.

His passionate rambling had stopped and he looks at his phone to see that it was 4am, meaning he’d be watching his anime for the last 20 hours straight. Once he processed that he’s been up for so long everything clicked and he felt his eyes getting significantly heavier.

You stick your hand out from the covers and pat the side of the bed, calling for him to lay next to you.

Levi was so tired he didn’t have the energy to get bashful about sharing the bed with you. Until he lifted up the blankets to join you.

All exhaustion immediately left his body when his eyes met with your nude body. The more he saw, the redder his face became. His eyes lingered until you say his name, snapping him out of it.

“Levi, get in here…” You say.

“B-b-but you’re….you know…???” His eyes dart around the room, trying to resist looking at you.

“Come on, it’s getting cold…”

Levi bites his lip before slowly getting under the blankets. He tries to stay as far as he can from you while still staying on the bed. His hands want to wonder, but he resists. Only to lay there and think how this only happens in his anime’s.

[local-hyena]

Allright allright, I think I'm ready now...

TF2 COMIC 7

Saying "I loved it" would be an understatement. It was PERFECT, the perfect ending we deserved. It's been seven goddamn years, I honestly didn't think this issue would ever be released. I started getting into tf2 only recently, about a year ago I think. I hope everyone who've been there from the beginning are happy.

This last issue gave us SO MANY THINGS ! A TIME SKIP WITH THE MERC'S FUTURE ! I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY ALL GOT THE "THEY GOT HOME AND BUILT FAMILIES AND REUNITE FOR CHRISTMAS" TYPE OF FUTURE THAT LITERALLY ALL FANFICS ARE ABOUT. SINGLE DAD SCOUT IS THE GREATEST CHARACTER DEVELOPPEMENT POSSIBLE.

WE ALSO GOT LITERALLY EVERYTHING WE WERE HOPING FOR. WE GOT UNMASKED SPY, WE GOT PAULING'S FIRST NAME, WE GOT SCOUT'S LAST NAME, SCOUT WITH AN UGLY HAIRCUT, WE EVEN GOT PYRO'S DOG AND MEDIC'S BABOON, TOM JONES IS BACK. ALSO HEAVY HAS A BEARD NOW, AND SOLDIER AND ZHANNA HAVE CHILDREN !!

there are of course still unanswered things. However, the fact that the Administrator forgot why she wanted revenge on Mann really adds to her character and the overall story. Also, it seems that Scout still odesn't know that Spy is his father, since he introduces himelf to Scout's children as Scout's coworker... Scout's ma is also noticably absent, I do not want to think about it too much, since Demo's mother is still alive, there is no reason she wouldn't be as well. We're gonna say that she's spending Christmas with another son, since she doesn't really take an important rôle in the comic... Also, as a Medic main, THERE WAS NO MEDIC CONTENT. LIKE, I KNOW THAT THE LAST COMIC WAS VERY MEDIC AND HEAVY FOCUSED, BUT STILL. I always need more Medic content 😭😭 glad to see that Archimedes is here also !

Also, Merasmus why are you so ripped 😂😂 he looks ugly as ever.

I am so very happy that Hale and Olivia both got fired from MannCo. They are finally happy now, with Hale going back with Mags fighting animals and going on other dangerous adventures.

There is ONE lats thing I need to point out. No, two things. First, I wonder what Valve will do now. Now that Team Fortress 2's story has come to an end. What will happen ? Is the game going to stop updating ? Or on the contrary will they go back to working on it ? Is there going to be a Team Fortress 3 ? Or is Team Fortress simply going to end on this perfect note ?

Finally, the ending. It took me a while to understand that the last dinner scene was adressing directly to us, the reader, the player. When I understood that, it hit le right in the heart. I cannot say that tf2 has been à huge part of my life. Like I said, I only got interested last year or so. I don't even oike the game itself that much, online multiplayer competitive FPSs are not my preferred genre. But the story, the characters and what the community makes (yes, the funny GMod machinimas and SFM movies. The memes and the serious stuff, both of them) made me learn to enjoy this universe. I must confess something. For some time, I played Fortnight with my brother. He made me try because I kept saying that I didn't like it, but I hadnd't poayed the game. After my first game, I said that I had some fun, in the end. So, he kinda forced le to play. For... idk, a few years. I do nlt remember the dates but I started the season with the Nomad skin as the ultimate reward, and stopped when there were hoverboards, or whatever they were. I didn't enjoy it because he insisted on being super competitive and was raging 90% of the time. So yeah, I hated every second of it and I vowed to not play competitive online multiplier games anymore. Which is why I absolutly refuse to play Overwatch and League of Legends. I wouldn't say that Team Fortress 2 reconciled me woth these type of games, but after watching all the Meet the Mercs and learning more about the story, I tried playing. I was a bit intimidated as to which class to choose, but after trying out several (and being very influenced by Meet the Medic), I found out that I had the most fun while playing Medic. I do nlt have a very good aim and I tend to die immediatly when I try to shoot at people. I also discovered that, playing an online multiplayer game doesn't have to be competitive. I have 9h30 in tf2, I play very casually. I do not get mad when I die or my team loses, because in the end, I just want to have fun in my own way. So, this ending hit me right in the heart

I... I almost want to print that last panel and hang it on my wall... I know, there's nothing stopping me, but I don't want my family to question it.

Anyways. That was tf2 comic issue 7. I cannot wait to see what the future will bring for our mercs !

[uhdrienne]

'tis the damn season

🍂 feat: old flame!lee jihoon x actress!reader

🍂 genre: sfw, fluff, angst, exes to lovers, city to town life

🍂 wc: ~8.5k

🍂 summary: an actress yet to make it big in the city, you return to your hometown for christmas for the first time since leaving. seasons have changed, along with life as you know it. jihoon, however, has not, and as you spend the festive season with him this year, you struggle to get past what your life could have been if your decision had been different.

🍂 author's note: merry christmas! nothing like a christmas story to really feel the season <3 there's another note right at the bottom if you'd like to know how the story came about... but meanwhile, enjoy the story and as always, let me know what you think 🎄

T h i s Y e a r

The trees outside the window pass in a blur. Your manager glances at you from the passenger seat, and you notice it from the periphery of your vision.

"You're excited to go home for Christmas, no?"

"I am," You reply, but your voice, try as you might to make it sound enthusiastic in the spirit of the festive holiday, your voice comes out hollow, empty.

Your manager clicks his tongue. "Then try to sound like it. Your parents would not be happy to see how sullen their daughter has become."

"Nothing has happened to me, Ray," You murmur. "I just... going home after so long..."

"That happens to every star I work with," Ray remarks. "Always so jarring for them to go home."

"Other stars, yes," You reply quietly. "I...am not one."

"Not with that attitude, you aren't!" Ray chirps. "You just haven't bloomed yet. Remember the feedback about your role in 'Blacklist'? The papers praised it."

"It was just a cameo, Ray. And it all died down within a week," You remind him, not unkindly, as you are still appreciative that he wanted to compliment you. "I think the agency wouldn't lose out if my contract isn't renewed."

"Nonsense!" Ray declares as the car pulls onto a familiar bridge. Up ahead, you see old thatched roofs, the houses looming larger as you near the village. "I will talk with them, see what auditions we can put you up for. You're talented, just undiscovered."

You chuckle. "Thanks."

"Have a good Christmas break, Y/N," Ray says comfortingly, as the car finally pulls to a stop in front of your front door. "It's the season to be with your family. Don't think about work."

You nod, beginning to clamber out of the car. "You too, Ray. See you in a couple weeks."

As the car finally pulls out of the cobbled path, you gather your belongings about you, and look up at a shout of your name.

"Dad?"

"My dear girl!" Your father enthuses, drawing you into a bone-crushing hug. "Welcome home, sweetie. Oh, you've lost weight, haven't you?"

"Hm? No, not that much," You smile at him. "I'm looking forward to eating my body weight in Mom's food, though."

"She's more excited to have you home," Your father laughs. "You coming home has been all she can talk about nowadays. I think Mrs. Lee and Jihoon have had enough--"

Your blood freezes at the mention of that name. "What?"

"Mrs. Lee and Jihoon, of course."

"O-Of course." You stammer. Thankfully, your dad doesn't pick up on it as he relieves you of your luggage.

Lee Jihoon. Lee Jihoon. Lee Jihoon.

A big oak tree, an old swing, two children perched upon it, side by side.

"I'm gonna go to the big city one day!" The young girl whoops.

"For what?" The boy asked.

"To live! Mom says there are tall buildings and cars and big shops. Wouldn't it be so fun?"

"Sounds boring." The boy yawns.

"I'll bring you along!" The girl says obstinately. "I'll show you how fun it can be."

"Fine," The boy replies, swinging his small feet back and forth. "Let's go together when we grow up."

"Y/N?"

"Hm?"

"Come on! I think your mother's going to freak herself out if we don't start going over."

"Coming!"

"I still don't get what you're doing in that grotty town."

"It's my hometown, Rina."

"Yeah, yeah, I forgot you came from a forest." Your (kind of) friend's voice drawls on the other end. "I'm off, I have a YSL fitting in like twenty minutes. I'll catch you soon if you decide to leave, yeah?"

"Okay, b-" The line beeping cuts you off. You lie back on your bed, massaging your temples.

Your mother had laugh-cried her way into a hug once you made it through the door, lamenting how hard it was to see her star daughter these days. It was all you could do to bite your tongue and avoid correcting her.

You were not a star. Not at all. While your friends in the industry had piles of scripts waiting for their perusal and selection, you simply accepted whatever you got.

You didn't miss the poorly concealed smiles of mock pity directed at you when everyone shared about their recent works at afterparties. But you knew you always did your best at every role you got, no matter how small they were. Yet... there were moments when you wondered if hard work truly surpassed luck and star quality.

Your muddled mind shifts back to the setting in the kitchen as happy voices and laughter drift upstairs. The look on Jihoon's face when you made eye contact for the first time in almost three years stops you in your tracks.

He looked as relaxed and calm as ever, dressed in a comfy-looking sweater and loose pants. Nursing a cup of coffee with his mother in your kitchen where he'd been countless times, he still resembled the young man you'd left behind.

But gone was the softness in his eyes from when you last saw him. Replacing it was a certain coldness, a tough look you couldn't place. That look had only intensified as he took you in, dressed in a thick fleece coat, black pants, and boot heels to match. He had nodded his head to you in greeting, but it had lacked warmth. Understandable, really.

You had flounced upstairs after the necessary greetings, citing a large load of luggage to unpack as your excuse.

A knock on your door makes you flinch. You open it, and pause at the person standing outside. "...Jihoon."

"Your mom says to come down. She says the food's almost ready and you look too thin."

"Right. Right, I'm coming."

He shrugs and then turns away. His footsteps draw away from your room.

You pinch colour into your cheeks, the way you did when things got too hard, and brace yourself.

Jihoon was staying for dinner.

"So tell us what you acted in!" Your mom says cheerfully as she heaps food onto your plate. "I keep wanting to keep up with your shows, but it's strange, I haven't seen them on the main channel. Are they on streaming platforms or something?"

Your face falls slightly. She was right, half right to be precise. Your shows rarely ever made it onto mainstream television. And if they did, your roles were usually so small you'd just appear onscreen once. With that, it was borderline impossible for you to appear on Netflix.

Your dad rolls his eyes. "It's Christmas, dear. We should give her a break. Why, she came home to see all of us! We know how busy she is."

You shoot a grateful glance to your dad, which he returns with a wink as he raises his glass of wine. "Cheers to that."

As everyone at the table raises their glasses to meet in a sweet clinking sound, and your lips meet the rim to drink, you almost forget the way Jihoon's eyes strayed away from his plate to you when your mother brought your job up.

You're about to wash up when your father enters your room.

"Dad!" You smile, slightly buzzed by the wine and the relaxation you felt, now that you were getting used to being home. "What's up?"

I just thought I'd check in on you before we turn in," He opens his arms, and you gladly step into them. He hums as he pats your head. "Are you getting used to being here? I know it's very different from the city, but.."

"I love it, Pop," You interrupt, understanding his worry. "Nothing can really beat home, right?"

"Right," He murmurs, and he coughs to mask up a suspiciously quick sniff. "Right. Well... sleep early. Tomorrow we'll go on a stroll, and see all the stuff you've missed. We can go visit Jihoon, if you want."

"Jihoon?"

"Yeah! He's got a big truck now, helping out with the family courier business... I heard he wanted to go to the city, but he's a good man, staying back here to help his parents."

You steel yourself to ask, "Did he ever say why he wanted to go to the city?"

"Hmm... he told your mom he wanted to go find an old friend when she asked. But, I suppose that can wait for him, since he hasn't mentioned leaving at all for a while."

You only hum in response.

"He didn't show it much, but his mother says he became much more quiet after you left. You two must have been really close, huh?"

The closest in the world, you wanted to tell him, but your own mouth just couldn't utter the words.

T h r e e Y e a r s A g o

"Flowers? For me?"

"Don't make a big fuss,"

"Tulips and baby's breath! Damn, you know the way to my heart. Hold on, I'll find a vase."

"Be quick. I'm taking you somewhere and we can't be late for it."

"Is it a reservation outside the town? Jihoon, I told you that breakfast place is so expensive for absolutely no rea-"

"It's not a reservation. I've already decided, we're going to the 24-hour diner since you said you like their waffles. Somewhere else."

"You're turning red. What's up?"

"The sky. Now hurry up."

He ended up bringing you to see the sunrise. He kissed you on the cheek in the backseat of his father's (much smaller back then) truck and when you got home close to noon, he brought you to the door, stumbled out a shaky and rushed "I like you", and squeezed your hand when you smiled at him.

It was the first of many dates, snuggling on the couch, overdramatic arguments about whether Rose let Jack freeze, and above all, the first moments of a lifetime spent together. You both knew it was a given.

T h i s Y e a r

"Uncle," Jihoon greets your father before his eyes land on you. His mouth tightens.

"Hi," You say meekly, feeling like the seven-year-old girl who would hide behind her parents to do introductions on her behalf. He doesn't respond, simply lets his eyes pass over you and back to your father.

Your dad doesn't seem fazed, as he remarks, "Cleaning the truck, Hoon? It's a good brand you've got there. Impressed whenever I see it."

Jihoon lets out a polite laugh. "Yes, well... I thought I'd invest in a good one since it'll be used for a while."

Your father turns to you. "Have you ever sat in a truck?"

You shake your head no. You never got to do that on set either.

He claps his hands. "Wonderful! Jihoon agreed to bring you out on a spin around the town. I have to pick up some things for your mom for Christmas Eve, you know how she gets. And I didn't think you'd want to spend your holiday grocery shopping with me. I'd feel at ease if Jihoon is here."

Your face tightens. "What do you mean?"

Jihoon clears his throat. "Uh-"

"You two were inseparable," Your father explains cheerfully. "Nothing like a good catch-up! Jihoon, drive safe, yeah?"

And then he's backing down the walkway, waving to you both. And now it's just you and your ex-boyfriend.

Jihoon looks away from you. "Get in, I guess."

And you do. No matter what Jihoon said, it always had a magnetic effect on you. Even if that same voice is now laced with unfamiliarity and slight coldness, you wouldn't say no to him.

Soon enough you're cruising through the small town, Jihoon's eyes trained on the road. As he slows down at a red light, you hesitantly ask, "How is everything with you?"

"Fine," He answers curtly, with no further elaboration.

Well. You can't say you were surprised.

You swallow and lean back into the seat.

"It's a nice truck," You remark lamely, in a desperate hope of starting conversation. "Your dad finally decided to get a new one?"

"It isn't my dad's," Jihoon replies, monotone still. "It's mine."

"Oh."

You should have known. The truck was much larger, its seats bigger than what you remember sitting in countless times as a teenager when his dad would pick you both up from school or to each other's houses.

After a short silence, you ask once more, "Where are we going?"

"To the coast. Your dad said youmissed the place."

"That's nice," You murmur back, emotions already deflated.

Of course, it had to be the coast. He brought you there to see the sunrise, and that was where you'd finally made it official. Clearly, the memories were just as raw for him, as you noticed him physically gritting his teeth as he stopped the truck.

"We don't have to go there-" You begin, but he cuts in stiffly. "I'm bringing you here to kill time while your dad does his stuff. Don't be mistaken."

"Right," You clear your throat awkwardly. "Of course not."

You're wondering how painful it would be to throw yourself out of the truck in embarrassment when your phone rings. It's Ray, so you mumble a quick "sorry" to Jihoon, who doesn't react, and pick up.

"Ray?"

"Hey, Y/N. How's the holidays so far?"

"Good? What's up?"

"Um..."

"Ray," You tease slightly, "You never call just to ask about my holidays. What's going on?"

"So...I just got back the results for your audition for 'Freak Show'."

"How is it?" You ask, breath caught in your throat. "Ray?"

A heavy sigh comes across the line. "I'm sorry, sweets. I know how much you wanted this role."

Your heart drops, and so does your expression.

"I'm trying to at least get you a supporting role since you liked the script so much, I'll let you-"

"Ray." You take a soft breath. Ray's voice halts. "Yeah?"

"Forget it."

"But-"

"Please... just forget it," You almost sound like you're begging. "I can't sit through doing another role no one's even going to remember. I've worked my ass off, Ray, I've gone for thousands of auditions for the past seven years, and not once have I ever gotten a callback for a lead role. I even tried to re-audition, but that damn assistant director spread the word of my so-called 'desperation', my fucking ex-manager did that stupid interview with the TV, and I ended up nowhere!"

"Y/N..."

"I'm sorry," You sigh immediately, trying to calm down. "I'm sorry about that. I'm really thankful that you help me, always. Without you, I might have been entirely jobless and the agency would have fired me."

"Oh, hun," Your manager murmurs comfortingly. "Like I said, you're a good actress. Really good. It's just a pity things went south and you met that assistant director who wanted to screw with you. Otherwise, you'd be on the front pages everywhere now."

"I...It's fine. I'll live. Just, Ray..."

"Hm?"

"Don't tell Rina and the rest if they call to ask, okay?"

"Your friends..?"

"Yeah. I... I want to tell them myself." More like no, you never want them to know. You can already see the fake disappointment on Rina's face when she whips her phone out to tell the chat made up of almost twenty actresses.

Ray agrees, and he tells you again not to stress too much before cutting the call. You lean against the cushion of your seat, closing your eyes, and when someone clears his throat you flinch. "Jihoon. Sorry."

He doesn't respond, simply looks at you as if you're a stranger, and you swallow nervously. "My manager called," You explain feebly, not that he even asked.

He nods once. "I heard." His eyes aren't exactly angry, they are still slightly cold, but there's something in them that seems more curious now.

You rub your eyes to snap yourself out, and you muster a smile at him. "So where are we going?"

"To get food," He replies. "That hot dog truck you liked a lot back then is here today, my dad told me."

"Oh, that's okay--"

"Don't eat hot dogs anymore?" He asks wryly, as he puts the truck in reverse and starts parking.

"Of course I do," You reply immediately, folding your arms. "Are you mad? Giving up on snacking?"

A flicker of a smile appears across his typically stoic face before he schools it and reverts to his stern expression. "I wouldn't know. You're stick thin, anyone would think you gave up fast food."

"Well. That just comes with exercise and occasional diets. And I'm not as thin as you say," You murmur. "But no. I wouldn't give up late-night cravings. My manager's one of the nicer ones."

Jihoon snorts slightly as he turns the engine off. "Thank goodness for that, I suppose?"

You shrug, and motion for him to lead the way to the hot dog stall as you climb out of the truck. You follow him down a rough patch of grass and rocks, all while he maintains a healthy distance. The sun warms your skin, and you breathe in the fresh, salty coast air.

"I'm sorry about the role, by the way. You must have worked extra hard for it," Jihoon says suddenly, hands in his pockets as he walks next to you, now back on solid ground, and you turn to face him, your face colouring in... embarrassment? Shame? "You heard my manager?"

"No. Just you, I put the pieces together."

Oh. "Right."

"Is it not...going well?" He motions with his hand vaguely. "Sorry, I don't mean to pry."

"It's fine, Jihoon," You stifle a reluctant laugh. "You can ask."

He stays silent so you continue. "I'm not getting any lead roles, only minor ones even if I put everything I have into it..." You sigh. "My friends don't really mention me, or they make little remarks about my rejections. As an adult, you'd think I shouldn't be bothered, but it just... it gets loud sometimes."

A few moments pass, your sneakers shuffling through the sand, when Jihoon finally says, "They don't seem like friends to me."

You let out a half-chuckle. "That's how showbiz is, I guess."

"No," Jihoon disagrees. "It doesn't matter if it's the industry or not. Friends are here to lift you up, not celebrate your downs. They shouldn't be doing that to you."

He goes silent after and as you get nearer, the food truck coming into view, you mull over what he just told you.

"I guess you’re right," You finally concede after a small pause. "They really shouldn't."

He says nothing more about it, and simply exchanges swift greetings with the stall owner, who seems to know him well. You try to smile weakly at the owner, but with your emotions still running high, you can only hope it doesn't come out as a grimace.

He gets hot dogs for both of you, and you look on gratefully and with a little surprise as he reels off your order word for word: a large hot dog bun with mustard, ketchup, and extra grilled onions. He gets a soda for each of you too, and you almost groan in satisfaction when the food is done. He looks on, looking slightly amused when you dig in.

"Not your usual fine dining concept, sorry." He says as he watches you take a big bite.

"Are you kidding? Way better," You mumble through your mouthful, and he snorts before taking a bite himself.

Just like that, the tension from earlier dissolves into something a little softer, a little gentler.

"So," Jihoon says later, as you're polishing off your soda. "What's been up with you these few years?"

"What do you mean?"

"You haven't come back to visit your parents. They don't say it, but they get really worried when you don't call."

"Oh."

He raises his eyebrows at you, prompting you to go on.

"Life gets in the way." You explain, resigned. "I want to call home too, but I'm either fighting for roles that I know I'll never get or I'm trying out for more auditions. Plus, the past few years weren't a good time."

"Why?"

"Old manager," You reply, frowning at the sheer memory of the mess you engulfed yourself in two years ago. "Put me on stupid diets for no reason and when this assistant director snitched on me for being 'desperate for roles' when I tried reapplying, he gave a secret interview to the reporters."

Jihoon scowls slightly. "Right. I heard about that. Prick." You laugh out loud. "Yeah. A real prick."

"And then?"

"Not much else. I was trying to clear my name, and by then I wasn't getting that many roles either."

Jihoon doesn't say anything, and you steal a glance at him. He looks... conflicted would be a good way to put it. Like he doesn't know what to say or do.

Before you can think of something to say, anything to dispel the sudden tension, he suddenly gets to his feet. "Come on. I'm taking you home."

You raise your eyebrows. "Okay... is everything alright?" Was that your imagination, or did he just clench his teeth?

"Fine." Yup, he was definitely gritting his teeth. You're beyond perplexed. But with how angry he already looks, you're not sure you want to aggravate him further, so you get up, toss your cup into the bin, and follow him back to the truck.

The whole journey is spent in silence, and a lot of uncertain glances from your end.

When he drops you off at your home twenty minutes later, he doesn't say anything as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

"Jihoon?" You ask, turning to face him in the seat.

"Yes?"

His face freezes slightly when you tell him, "Thanks for today. I had lots of fun."

He swallows nervously, evident in the bob of his Adam's apple as he shrugs. "No problem."

"And…um… thanks for still remembering my hot dog order." You say softly, before turning to climb out of the truck.

When you get to your front porch, and then climb the stairs to your room, you look out the window.

He's still there.

T h r e e Y e a r s A g o

"Did you just say you're...leaving?"

"I got the audition. It's my big break... if I don't take the chance now, I might not ever get to. It's my dream, you know that."

"What else?"

"Huh?"

"Your dreams this, your big break that. Don't you have anything else to say?"

"...What can I say?"

"What do you mean, what can you say? What about us?"

T h i s Y e a r

The next morning arrives in the form of your mother standing over your bed. “Hey, darl, wake up!”

“Mhmm?” You mumble from under your covers and you hear her chuckle before she peels your blanket back.

“Jihoon’s mom is coming over to help with Christmas Eve dinner,” she explains. “But I totally forgot about the school donation.”

“School donation…?” What is she talking about?

“Oh! Right. So we donate a bunch of food every year to your old school. You remember it, right? Near the Methodist church?”

“Yeah,” You yawn, stretching up in bed and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“They pass it to orphanages for children who don’t have Christmas dinner this season. I’ve had it prepared since this morning, but with Jihoon’s mom and the dinner, I don’t think I’ll have time to drop by the school,” She looks regretful. “Would you mind helping with that, dear?”

“Sure,” You reply, cracking your neck. “I’ll handle it. Don’t worry, mom.”

“Thanks, hun,” Your mom says, looking relieved. “It’s quite a lot. We had lots to give this year. Mrs Lee said she’d send Jihoon to help you.”

“Huh?”

“I wouldn’t send you into the cold holding tons of heavy bags!” Your mom fusses. “Wash up and eat before you go — your dad got the most amazing bread yesterday.”

After she leaves, you sit there, wide awake.

Jihoon is coming.

That fact alone has you hurrying to tidy yourself for god knows what, even applying a bit of mascara and lip gloss to salvage your face.

Your phone pings as you start tidying your table, and you look at Ray's name popping on the screen.

"Remember your audition and screen test with the director of 'Who Knows Why'?" The text reads. "He's making the final decision for the female lead of his new holiday film. This guy has high standards and his films are very popular, but he likes picking new faces over the same old stars. A few of your friends are in the choices too, but...I just have a feeling this could be it. I'll let you know again. Happy holidays!"

You sigh. Who Knows Why made headlines for weeks when it hit the cinemas, critics and film connoisseurs alike singing its praises. Unless a miracle selected you while you were sleeping, you very much doubted you would make it past.

By the time you get downstairs and have a few pieces of the toasted bread — which is amazing, all warm and toasty and fresh — the doorbell rings, and your mom rushes to get the door.

“Mrs Lee!” She exclaims, hurriedly ushering the other lady into the house. “Thanks for coming by today.”

As the two exchange pleasantries, Jihoon steps into the house, removing his boots and smiling slightly when your mother coos over him too.

He merely nods in acknowledgement when he sees you. The contrast makes your stomach clench slightly.

“Ah, Jihoon,” His mother says. “Make sure to help Y/N with the bags of food, yeah?”

He simply nods again, a soft “okay” escaping his mouth, before he approaches you.

“Let’s get going,” He says conversationally.

“Okay,” You reply nervously. He raises his eyebrows as he walks to the heaping table.

He picks out most of them. Especially the biggest and bulkiest ones.

It’s fifteen minutes later when you’re walking down the path when he breaks the silence. “Are you alright?”

“Hm?” You ask. “Oh yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“Nothing. I thought with the role thing… never mind.”

“Oh.” Truth be told, you’d barely thought of it since the hot dog outing. “Uh… I mean, what’s past is past, right?”

“I suppose.” He replies, non-committal.

And there it goes again. The choking, awkward silence that just doesn’t seem to dissipate no matter what either of you.

There’s a bit of fuss when you reach the school, what with all the grunt work passing over the food and making sure the right people get the right things, and that provides a little relief, at least for an hour or so.

After it’s all over, you find yourself at the school gates where you first met Jihoon, with the very same man, now twenty years on.

“It hasn’t changed much,” You observe.

Jihoon shrugs. “I guess. It’s like very little time passed.”

That roadblock comes back.

You swallow. “Um, Jihoon.”

He makes a humming sound in response.

“Are we…okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” You admit, pulling at your sweater. “You seemed angry when we were out the other day and…”

“I’m not mad.”

“Right.”

You're not convinced.

“I’m really not.” He insists, although you haven’t even said anything to contradict him.

“I know. You said so.”

“Well, you sure don’t sound like you believe me.” He says, rather scathingly.

You shoot him a quizzical look. It was a choice between acting dumb or admitting that after all this time, he could still read you like a book.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I know.” He laughs bitterly. “You never do, anyway.” He turns away as he says this.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, slightly affronted.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” He says in a sudden show of annoyance. “Not even one call all these years, and when you finally show up back here, I find out how shit your so-called dream life has been. But I don’t know! It could just be me.”

“Jihoon-”

“And I’m just thinking, you gave up all of this?” He waves his arm outward. “You gave up everything back here… for what you have now? Was it even worth it in the end?”

“I thought that was what I wanted.” You try to answer, but it comes out pathetically. He was spot-on.

You left your family, your home, the love of your life… for something that ended up being unworthy in the slightest.

And you were now reaping the consequences.

“I…” Jihoon rubs his face, his anger now cooled into something like resignation. “You made your choice. I get that. I’m trying to understand. I just… I don’t know why you thought the life you have now, with fake friends and unnecessary drama, was better than peace.”

"It wasn't that I wanted to go through all of that... I --"

He stares at you, waiting for you to go on. But it's as if someone has sealed your mouth shut, as nothing escapes it.

T h r e e Y e a r s A g o

"You won't even bother trying? Will you fight for us?"

"How can I? The agent made it clear... once I step out, dating is out of the question.."

"So that's it? You're just going to leave for some big city, and I'll just be stuck here, waiting for someone who's already made her choice?"

"Jihoon, I... fuck, I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"All of it. I let you down."

Never had you seen your boyfriend regard you with as much disappointment as he did now.

"You did, Y/N. You really did. God, I thought--I thought we mattered more than those billboards."

"Jihoon-"

"But there's no point, right? You already made your decision. You don't intend to look back at all, do you?"

"I-"

Jihoon sighed, and bent his head in resignation, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally raised his head. "Then why are you still here?"

"What?"

"You heard me. I won't hold you back. Go on."

Silence, the raging kind that had never once blossomed between you both, took over.

After what seemed like an eternity, your mouth opened.

"We... we leave on the 17th."

He doesn't look up from his lap as you exit his room, down the creaking stairs of his family home for the last time, and you come face to face with his mom.

"Chase your dreams, dear," She'd said, clasping your hands, although you thought you saw unshed tears in her eyes as your own streaked down your face. "Come home and visit us sometime. Jihoon will be okay."

You did leave on the 17th. Jihoon turned up with his parents, and as his mom kissed you on the forehead and gave you her blessings, his gaze stayed on you, but he didn't step forward to say goodbye.

He kept looking on as you climbed into the car, and in the rearview mirror as it pulled away, you thought you saw him start to raise his hand in a momentary wave.

But then he was far gone behind you, and now you only had the road ahead for company.

T h i s Y e a r

The truck ride back is silent again. Jihoon doesn't even look in your direction, except to check his blind spots and adjacent lanes. Your mind is equally messed up, thinking about everything he said to you.

Was he right? Had you lost your way, and bargained everything you could have lived with, in exchange for friends who couldn't care less about you, and a career akin to a peakless, uphill slope?

Finally, when the silence becomes a thick, choking fog, you finally speak up. "Jihoon?"

He glances to you for a fraction of a second. "Yes?"

"If..." You struggle to find the words. "If... I hadn't made that choice..."

His head turns to you fully, his gaze now sharp. "What?"

You have to plan out what you want to say, word for word, before you go on. "If I chose to stay back then... would we have lasted? Would we have..."

Jihoon turns back to the road. "Would we have stayed together? Do you want my honest answer?"

You nod imperceptibly. "More than anything."

"We would," He says quietly, but with no hesitation as he makes a left. "I would have told you that we should set up a joint account and plan for a home together in maybe three years. I would've told you that we could go on weekly grocery runs and start thinking about moving in together. And I probably would have told you that I love you."

You freeze.

"It sounds unnecessary and stupid, but I don't want you to burden yourself with that, now," He says, sitting back and looking straight ahead. "I know you don't belong here, or to me, anymore. That's life, and we all move on, one way or another. Plus it's Christmas, and you're here now, so.... you should enjoy it before you leave."

And that's that. Just a reminder for you to enjoy yourself before you inevitably have to go. None of you need to speak to know that the conversation is over.

The drive resumes in silence.

You can't sleep. You've tossed and turned a million times, head pounding with exhaustion, but something's just stopping your eyes from shutting. Unfortunately, you know exactly why.

Jihoon's there in your mind. Sometimes the calm, steady person he's always been, sometimes a roaring, dark figure glaring at you the way he did when you said you were leaving.

Around two in the morning, you finally sit up. You have to go to Jihoon. You don't know what you're going to say, but if you don't find him, he will never stop haunting you.

You slip on a warm sweater and shoes, and gently close the front door behind you. The village is truly ready for the festivities, all twinkling golden lights and lightly falling snow. But none of that matters as you pad through the white fluff towards Jihoon's home.

When he opens the door, he's dishevelled, but doesn't show signs of having just woken up. "Uh... it's two a.m...?"

"I know it is," You say apologetically. "I'm sorry. I, uh... I couldn't sleep."

He raises his eyebrows. "Ah. I see."

You're beginning to regret this. Maybe you should've thought this through. "Look, it's okay, I'm really sorry for bothering you--"

"Guess that makes two of us," He says conversationally, as if it isn't the dead of night. "Come in. It's cold."

You wait for him to walk in before following him into the house. Try as you might, you just can't shake the feeling of nostalgia that rushes through you as you walk around the house you've visited a million times.

You know that his favourite grey mug is on the cabinet shelf above the sink. The earl grey cookies he can't live without is on the counter. The stairs still creak a little when you step on the floorboards nearby. You know him and everything that belongs to him. You know it all.

You take a seat at his table. "Will your parents be upset that I came at this hour?"

He eyes you wryly. "You know silly questions get silly answers."

You know your question is nearly pointless. You've left late, slept over, even gotten drunk in this house and his parents still doted on you nevertheless.

You shrug. "Doesn't hurt to ask."

He hums as he reaches for a hot cocoa mix. "Then my answer is no. Nobody's upset."

Five minutes later, he places a cup of steaming hot chocolate in front of you and sits down.

"So, bad dreams?"

"Huh?"

"You said you couldn't sleep. Did you have a bad dream?"

"No. Not really bad. Just... disturbing."

He raises his eyebrows. "I think that's the same thing."

"Dreams are like... like movies." You try to explain, a smile forming on your face. "Bad dreams are horrors and thrillers. Disturbing dreams are more like... like they could be any genre, but some parts and some scenes affect you more."

"Right," He says. "So Titanic was disturbing, then?"

"Very!" You blurt before you can stop yourself. "Because it still confuses me to this day, how on earth didn't Jack fit on the door?"

He breathes out a chuckle, leaning back on his chair. "It confuses me how you compare dreams to movies. They're in two complete worlds altogether."

"Admit it. It's a good analogy."

"It is," He admits. "I didn't think of that before."

You look at him, and you wonder how you can continue the conversation from here. He sits there for a few more minutes and stands up. "I'll go set up a room for you. It's snowing pretty badly, and you'll be soaked through if you walk back. I'd drive you, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to see anything."

He starts to leave the room, and you grab his arm. "Jihoon."

He looks down at your physical contact point. "Yes?"

"Earlier, when you said...when you said that movies and dreams are in two different worlds."

He looks at you. Staring unblinkingly, eyes never avoiding yours. He seems just as about to ready to confront this truth as you are.

Your dream was the movie screen, and his dream was you. Two completely, otherworldly different ones, but dreams and wishes nonetheless. Maybe now that you were once again back where you started, they could finally align.

"You weren't just talking about actual dreams, were you?"

Jihoon stiffens and steps back. "We're not doing this again."

"No, wait --" You say, closing your eyes to gather your thoughts. "I'm not going to make you tell me anything. I just want to know if you meant something else."

Jihoon swore he would give himself a pat on his back as he leaned down to look you square in the eye. "And if I said I did?"

You swallow and look at him. Your heart is pounding, and all logical thinking has been long thrown out of the window. "I'd thank the heavens for bringing me home."

His mouth finds yours and you pull him down to meet you more. It's not a cold war anymore. It's no longer a battle to see who can withstand the silence better.

And there is no more silence, you realise, because Jihoon is sniffling and your cheeks are stained with two warm droplets. "Jihoon?"

"I'm sorry," He mumbles, making no effort to withdraw. "I couldn't help it. I...I missed you. Not just this," He squeezes your hand which has somehow intertwined with his, and you squeeze back with the little strength you can muster. "Just...you. Drinking hot chocolate in my kitchen in the middle of the night, being within two streets' distance of me... eating hot dogs in my truck and sending food when Christmas comes."

You blink back tears. "I'm sorry for missing out all these years."

"Don't be sorry," He replies, imperceptibly softly, his hand coming up to stroke your cheek. "Just be with me."

You spend the night. And the night after, and the one after that.

The next three days pass like a fever dream. You go skating at the outdoor rink with Jihoon, laugh at how he wobbles his way to you like a baby deer learning how to walk for the first time, drink hot peppermint tea at a market stall after dinner, and let Jihoon tuck you into his coat on the walk home.

You didn't want this to end. No matter what. Ray hadn't yet gotten back to you on the audition results, and you decided to take it as a no and move on, just as you always did.

Of course, life always found a way to rear back and bite you hard, as your phone rings. With gloved hands, you pull it out of your coat pocket to see Ray's name again.

"Ray!" You chuckle, a little heady and happy from the day's events.

"So someone's having a good Christmas," Ray teases. "Well, my friend, it's going to get a lot better."

"What?" You ask, your boots crunching to a stop. Next to you, Jihoon also stops walking, his eyes wholly on you in concentration.

"The director of 'Who Knows Why'," Ray says, poorly concealed excitement in his voice. "He called me today, said he wants you to take the role! Your friends didn't get it even though they're so famous, and guess what? You did."

"Ray." You say, firmly. "Repeat that."

"You. Made. It. Out of over 100 actresses. I'm not joking!"

You freeze, look up and lock eyes with Jihoon, who raises his eyebrows in question.

"Oh, my god," You say, and it all comes out in a rush. "You're...you're serious."

"As a heart attack." Ray promises. "So, when can I come pick you up? Day after Christmas?"

"Ah." You hesitate. The filming would involve you....leaving. And if you were to stay and prepare for press tours, interviews, meet-and-greets... when were you returning?

"Can I call you back? I'll check..."

"Sure, hon," Ray replies cheerfully. "Go tell your folks the good news! They're gonna be thrilled."

You laugh weakly and then hang up. Then you turn to your lover (is he?).

"So, what was that about?" He asks, resuming the walk.

"I..."

At his concerned look, you finally sigh. "I got a lead role. In the film of a really popular director."

"That's amazing....oh." His face falls as he comes to the conclusion you fear. "Does that mean...you have to leave, don't you?"

You take a soft breath, shuffling your feet back and forth nervously. "I suppose so. I...I have to."

And to make matters worse, your phone pings with a text, your face souring as you read her message. Then, Jihoon watches as you put your phone back in your coat without another word.

"Who is that?" He demands. He knows he sounds like a little child, but he doesn't stop himself. He doesn't like the bitter expression on your face and that's all he knows.

"A friend." You reply.

"Real friend or...?"

You sigh and fish your phone out and pass it to him. He reads the simple "Fuck you" message from Rina, and undiluted anger crosses his face. "What the-"

You shrug. "She was probably one of the actresses hoping to be selected. Not much I can hide from you now."

He chuckles bitterly. "Yeah, we're not hiding the fact that you have to leave in maybe three days. Back to people like this-" He gestures to your phone. "- and who knows what else."

"I'll try to come back often," You say, although it doesn't seem convincing in the slightest. Jihoon doesn't buy a word of it either, judging by his expression.

"Really?" He says. "You haven't even been able to find time to come home for years now. I know you've gotten your big break and I'm happy for you, but... I don't know what to do if you leave for years on end again."

"I'll try to shuttle back and forth," You insist. "I have to."

"Well," Jihoon says, still looking at you doubtfully. "Don't make it an obligation."

"No, let's talk about it," You insist. "I just...I've never gotten a lead role before. It's not just... it's not just a role I can give up right away."

"Well, then choose. Tell me what you want." He replies, disappointment crossing his face.

"I...I haven't decided yet." You say lamely. "I need...I need a little more time to think."

He simply continues looking at you, before turning away and pacing back and forth. All you can do is watch him helplessly. "I just don't want to think about when this...will be over." Fling? Relationship?

It's as if he already knows what you're thinking about as he smiles sadly. "See, you don't even know what label to put on us."

"I just don't like when it has to be one over the other." You say, hugging yourself and staring at your shoes. "I've missed you. You know I love you and I want to continue seeing you, but I can't just give up on what I've wanted for so long."

But Jihoon is already shaking his head and starting to walk. "It doesn't have to be one way or another. Because I think you've already made your decision. I'm taking you home."

And it was happening all over again. Days had passed with no interaction with him, and even on Christmas Day itself, he was nowhere to be found.

Too fast, the evening when Ray came to pick you up loomed near. Your father helped you pack, but behind the reminders to bring your makeup bag and home slippers was a tinge of sadness. Your old folks didn't even know when they'd next see you.

When Ray comes out of the car to pick you up, out steps another lady with him, who nods to you in greeting.

"This is Rachel, the producer for the movie," Ray explains. "Since it’s gonna be a holiday romance-comedy, she wanted to visit your town to see what it looked like in Christmas."

You smile, and nod eagerly. "It's beautiful. You won't regret it."

Rachel smiles back, then speaks to Ray. "You guys stay here. I'll go take a quick walk and be right back."

As she leaves, you look at Ray. "Can we talk?"

Ray raises an eyebrow. "What about?"

"I... was wondering." You say. "I have a bit of a predicament at home. I'd like to stay longer. Could you maybe...push for the filming to be delayed?"

Ray looks surprised. "You want to wait?"

"More than anything."

A smirk starts blooming on Ray's face. "For a guy?"

At your delay, he slaps your shoulders. "Great! So, is the lucky guy totally alright with your job? That's a good man right there."

"Actually..."

You sprint towards Jihoon's house. Your attention is fixed on trying not to fall flat into the snow and to get to him as quickly as possible. Other townspeople are gawking, probably wondering why someone is in such a hurry, practically flying down the street.

At his door, you start knocking hard. His mom opens the door, and to your dismay, she explains that Jihoon hasn't been home since the morning.

"Maybe he's at the coast," She suggests, and you have never set off so fast before.

You implore Ray to drive you, and despite his reservations, a call from Rachel confirms that he has enough time to bring you there in his car for you to find Jihoon.

“So I’m now a party who can help you find the love of your life,” He teases you. “What do you owe me if this works out?"

"I'll make sure I land another film after this."

"You're on."

Ray barely puts the brakes on before you're opening the door. "I'll see you in a bit!"

"Should I prepare tissues?" He calls back. You pray not as you frantically scan your surroundings for a familiar, dark-haired man.

And like the heavens are answering you, you find him. Sat upon the roof of his truck, staring out at the coast at the setting sun.

"Jihoon?" You call as you get nearer to him. The man freezes, then turns slowly to face you. "I thought you were heading back. Why are you here?"

"To talk," You say softly, trying to catch your breath. "I... I think we left some things unsaid."

"No," He disagrees, crossing his legs over to face you while still sitting. "I owe you an apology."

"What?"

"I shouldn't have tried to make you choose me over your dreams. I know how hard you've been working, and you're finally getting to your peak... I should have supported you. I'm sorry. It was selfish of me."

"No," You insist, waving your hands. "I made that mistake first. Years ago, when I decided to leave, I didn't put you in front of my thoughts. I....I thought we'd be okay."

Jihoon shrugs and gives you a sad smile. "I'll always root for you. So... no hard feelings. Go ahead and shine. I promise we're okay. I'll never have bad feelings for you no matter what happens."

You shake your head. "That-"

"Y/N!" You hear Ray calling for you. Seriously? At this moment?

"What?" You hiss furiously.

"Check your phone!" You hear his hushed response.

"Later!"

"No! Now!"

You sigh and pull it out at his insistent glare, and when you look down at the message, your eyes light up. You shoot him a quizzical glance. Are you serious?

At his frantic nod, you turn back to Jihoon.

"You should go," Jihoon repeats. "They must be waiting for you."

"They are," You nod. He nods back, eyes not leaving yours.

"See you in a bit."

He cocks his head in confusion.

"Haven't you heard?" You smile a bit at his nonplussed expression.

"The filming location shifted."

"What?"

"I'll be here, apparently. For the next half a year, or so. The producer decided this place must be too good to pass up."

His jaw drops, and he slides off the truck, as if his surprise disabled his sense of balance. “You’ll be… here?”

“For a while,” You shrug nonchalantly, as if your heart isn’t beating fast and hard. “So, if… if you still want to talk, and maybe spend spring together… I’m down.”

He drops himself off the vehicle and his boots hit the ground with a crunch. “Say that again.”

You smile and take a few steps towards him. “I’m here for spring, Jihoon. And the seasons after that…we’ll figure it out one at a time. How does that sound?”

He lets out a laugh then, choked up but ecstatic. He makes sure, steady steps towards you, arms open in welcome and love, and as you step into his warmth, you let out a relieved, happy sigh and look up at him.

“Merry Christmas, Jihoon.”

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

N e x t Y e a r

"I forgot how cold it can get every time," Jihoon hisses as another gust of wind hits.

"It's worse in town," You tease. "I barely feel anything now."

"Yes, yes, you with your big girl city habits," He shivers. "I'll pick that bone with you once we get home, I swear."

"I'm looking forward to it." You chuckle, and he squeezes you tight. As resigned as he is to the eccentric habits you picked up in the city, he's just happy you're here to spend this Christmas with him. And the one next year, and the one after that.

Home. Our home. You were a part of his home, and him yours.

Yes, you thought, even as you leaned against him and felt him wrap his coat around you despite knowing you weren't cold at all. As long as you were with him, you were home.

a u t h o r ' s n o t e:

merry christmas eve! i hope you enjoyed this story every bit as much as i enjoyed writing it 🎄 i started thinking about this close to october (because i missed my eras tour experience so much 😭) and wondered if anyone would like a crossover between seventeen and tswift!! so here goes, in time for christmas and your spotify wrapped, 'tis the damn season 💌

🎼 refer below for the fic playlist (with lots of svt, taylor swift, and sweet, romantic christmas tracks)

taglist: @jeonghnie

f i c p l a y l i s t :

'tis the damn season -- taylor swift

mirrorball -- taylor swift

lover - taylor swift

paper rings - taylor swift

daylight - taylor swift

new year's day - taylor swift

ours - taylor swift

i love you, i''m sorry - gracie abrams

risk - gracie abrams

all my love - seventeen

falling for you - seventeen

headliner - seventeen

lie again - seventeen

second life - seventeen

to you - seventeen

my santa claus - jessie james decker

glow - brett eldredge

all i want for christmas is you - michael buble

kiss you this christmas - why don't we

take me home for christmas - dan + shay

[inbarfink]

I’ve said it elsewhere but although the idea of Silas Mann being Zepheniah’s brother that he not only killed, but totally wiped off the Mann Family History seems to be a pretty popular Headcanon/fan-theory (and often also paired with the idea that the Administrator was his daughter and that this is what originally sparked her eternally burning hatred for Zepheniah).....I personally can’t bring myself to buy it.

First of all, the one confirmed image of Silas Mann in life is in this Mann Family Portrait

Which doesn’t seem to have been retconned out of the comics, considering it literally appears as an actual physical object in “The Days Have Worn Away”

This picture shows him as an aging man alive at the same time that Zepheniah was old and dying and the Administrator has already been working for him for decades. On the most basic timeline level, him dying before the Administrator became the twins’ governess obviously doesn’t make any sense.

(Even if we were to assume the Silas in this picture is some ghostly apparition, he’s just too old to be a brother Zepheniah killed when they would have both being young-ish men and/or the Administrator’s father)

And much more importantly for a story whose big thematic point is “the lore was ultimately Meaningless, what matters is the characters”, the idea of Zepheniah hiding the fact that he has ‘bested’ his brother and instead pretending he’s an only child just feels flat-out Out of Character for me with the way “The Days Have Worn Away” characterizes Zepheniah.

Zepheniah sees the act of killing your own sibling for fun and profit as an inherently noble act and a prove of one’s worthiness and determination. He talks about his father and grandfather’s dead siblings, without technically legally admitting that they killed them, but heavily implying it and clearly admiring them for it.

And he very very heavily insinuated to his new governess that her goal is to raise his more ‘worthy’ son to engage in fratricide.

The whole point of him saying he’s an only child ‘sadly’ is because he thinks it’s unfortunate he never got to prove himself by killing a sibling.

So the idea that he would somehow draw a line at mentioning the brother he himself defeated, that he wouldn’t mention it as to not.... tarnish his good name (even though he is proud of his ancestors’ fratricide and brags about it) or to give himself farther legitimacy as the worthy Mann Heir (even though he views being ruthless enough to kill your own sibling as the ultimate proof of being a worthy Mann heir) or to just not discuss his crimes with a total stranger (even though his explanation of his father and grandfather’s deeds didn’t technically incriminate them of anything and he also pretty clearly admitted to her that he wants his kids to be raised to be brother-killers) is just… it just feels totally antithetical to how Zepheniah is written in this comic.

However, I actually don’t think this totally deconfirm the “Administrator is the daughter of Zepheniah’s brother out for revenge”.

After all, Zepheniah is not the only possible Unreliable Narrator of this flashback. The Administrator is the one telling the story.

And the Administrator totally forgot what Zepheniah did to make her hate him so much.

And while it’s implied that he might’ve been responsible for her parents’ death in some way, it’s also implied the specific details have become hazy and unclear through the years….

So, like, if the Administrator is the daughter of Zepheniah’s dead sibling (It being Silas still doesn’t really make any sense timeline-wise so let’s call this Hypothetical Mann ‘Barshnibnab Mann’, okay?)… Would she remember that? Would she remember any detail about Zepheniah having a sibling if her own familial connection to that sibling was wiped away by the waves of time?

Maybe Zepheniah did tell her “Ah yes, and I became an munitions magnate after I took over the company from my sibling Barshnibnab who died under very unfortunate and mysterious circumstances lol” but because she has forgotten everything about her parents and her original motivation she just flat-out forgot it and misremembered that Zepheniah was an only child?

I think that works a lot better with the themes and the characters’ personalities. Really emphasizes how the Administrator’s hatred has become such a singular and twisted thing, that it literally wiped away all memory of the people whose loss was the source of this hatred. Her quest of vengeance didn’t just drag down, like, the entire world for the last hundred years - it basically wiped out all possible memories of her parents. Really shows how it turned from revenge to just Fuck This Guy In Particular.

If Zepheniah killed a sibling, he would have wanted it memorialized as a proof of his own cutthroat ruthlessness - but the Administrator’s hatred is the one who wiped them from history as collateral in the way of her burning loathing.

[cailinsblog]

A Christmas to Remember | lando norris

Lando Norris x reader

Guyssss it’s almost Christmas

The cold winter air bit at Lando Norris’s face as he stood outside his apartment, looking out over the twinkling lights of the city. It was Christmas Eve, and the usual hustle and bustle of Formula 1 had quieted down for the season. For the first time in what felt like forever, Lando had time to truly relax, and he was about to spend it with the one person who always made him feel at home — his girlfriend, Y/N.

Lando had been counting down the days, excited not only for the Christmas festivities but also for the surprise he had planned for her. After months of searching for the perfect gift, he had finally found something that he knew would make her heart melt — a puppy. But this wasn’t just any puppy; it was a fluffy, playful Golden Retriever, with soft fur and eyes full of curiosity. Lando could already imagine the look of joy on Y/N’s face when she saw it, and that was all the motivation he needed.

As he unlocked the door to his apartment, he stepped inside, where he was greeted by the warm glow of Christmas decorations. The room was filled with the sweet smell of cinnamon and pine from the candles he had lit, and there was a large, beautifully decorated tree in the corner. Underneath it, a pile of carefully wrapped presents sat, some of which Lando had already picked out for Y/N. But there was one more — the one he was most excited about — sitting on the table, waiting for the perfect moment.

Y/N was in the kitchen, humming as she prepared their dinner. She looked up when she heard the door open, a smile spreading across her face as she caught sight of Lando.

“There you are!” she said, wiping her hands on a towel and walking toward him. “I was starting to think you’d be late for our Christmas dinner.”

Lando chuckled, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, love. You’ve got everything set up so beautifully.”

Y/N blushed slightly, her eyes lighting up with happiness. “Well, you know, I wanted to make it extra special for us. It’s our first Christmas together.”

Lando’s heart swelled at her words. He’d spent so much of his life on the road, traveling from race to race, that he often forgot the simple joys of life. But with Y/N by his side, he was reminded every day of how much he had to be grateful for.

They sat down for dinner, chatting about everything and nothing as they shared their favorite holiday foods. The sound of Christmas music played softly in the background, and for a while, it felt like time had slowed down, just for them.

After dinner, Lando couldn’t contain his excitement any longer. “I’ve got something for you,” he said, standing up and walking toward the table where the puppy’s gift was hidden.

Y/N tilted her head, intrigued. “What is it?”

Lando pulled out a small, plush puppy and handed it to her. “I know it’s not much, but I thought you might like it.”

Y/N looked at the little stuffed animal, a soft smile crossing her face. “Oh, Lando, it’s so cute! Thank you!”

But before she could say anything else, Lando went to the door and opened it slightly, peeking inside. “Actually, that’s not the only surprise I have for you.”

A moment later, the real surprise entered the room: a playful, golden retriever puppy, bounding through the door with its tail wagging and ears perked up.

Y/N gasped, her hands flying to her mouth in shock. “Lando… is this…?”

“It’s ours,” Lando said, his voice full of excitement. “I thought it was time for us to have a little bundle of joy. What do you think?”

Tears sprang to Y/N’s eyes as she bent down to scoop the puppy into her arms. The little dog licked her face, its tail wagging furiously as Y/N giggled with pure joy. “Oh my God, Lando, you are the sweetest person in the world,” she whispered, cradling the puppy close.

“I’m glad you like him,” Lando said, his heart bursting with happiness. “What should we name him?”

Y/N looked down at the puppy, her mind racing with ideas. “I think… we should name him ‘Charlie,’” she said, her eyes lighting up. “It feels right.”

Lando nodded. “Charlie it is. Welcome to the family, little guy.” He leaned down to give Y/N and the puppy a kiss on the cheek, feeling like the luckiest man alive.

The rest of the evening was filled with laughter and love, the couple spending time with their new furry friend as they exchanged stories, gifts, and holiday wishes. As the clock struck midnight, signaling the arrival of Christmas Day, Y/N stood up and handed Lando a carefully wrapped box.

“Your turn,” she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Lando smiled as he took the box from her, carefully unwrapping it to reveal a custom helmet. It was a work of art — a helmet painted with intricate details, featuring his McLaren team colors, and the faces of his closest friends and family, including Y/N and himself. On one side of the helmet, there was a small but detailed image of the two of them together, holding hands, with the puppy sitting beside them.

Lando was speechless, staring at the helmet in awe. “Y/N… this is amazing. How did you—?”

“I had it commissioned,” she said, her smile widening. “I wanted you to have something that would remind you of home every time you get in the car. And no matter how far you go, you’ll always have us with you.”

Lando’s eyes softened as he gently placed the helmet on the table. “I… I don’t know what to say. This is perfect. You’re perfect.”

Y/N blushed, a shy smile curling on her lips. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it,” he said, pulling her close. “You’ve made this Christmas unforgettable.”

With Charlie nestled between them, Lando and Y/N spent the rest of the night by the fire, exchanging stories and dreams for the future. They had both given each other the perfect gifts — one that symbolized the promise of a new beginning, and the other that was a reminder of the love and family they had already built.

As the fire crackled and the lights on the tree twinkled softly in the background, Lando couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of peace. Christmas was no longer about the races, the fame, or the fast cars. It was about moments like this — quiet, intimate, full of love.

And in that moment, Lando knew that no matter where the road took him, he would always have Y/N and Charlie by his side. Christmas had never felt more complete.

[nislost]

unvirgin | chapter 6

warnings: suggestive, people being mean again

(written + smau)

you’re driving back to your apartment after you finished your class. you have 2 hours to get ready and you need to look good. you quickly jump in the shower to shave and take off all that school stench off of you.

after two hours you check how you look in the mirror and you feel good. wearing the two piece outfit your friends voted on that consisted of a tight miniskirt that matched the cropped jacket you had and platform heels because who are you without your heels?

you rush out the door and make your way to the library after you notice you’re 5 minutes late. at least you’ll be fashionably late! you walk into the library searching for the black haired boy and when you do you smile walking your way over. tapping jeno on his shoulder he turns around startled.

“sorry i’m late” you whisper giving him an apologetic smile. “i-it’s fine don’t worry” he whispers before clearing his voice his eyes looking everywhere but you. you giggle at his nervous state before sitting in the empty seat next to him. you noticed he looked good really good…why? well he’s wearing the number 1 kitty cat defeater. gray sweatpants and a matching hoodie.

“so what did you need help with?” jeno asks softly not to bother others around. “everything” you groan “i swear math is my worst enemy” he chuckles at your words. “okay let’s start from the beginning of the topic we’re currently learning” he says as he takes out a stack of textbooks from his bag causing your jaw to drop.

your reaction makes him giggle which in return causes you to pout. “stop laughing at my pain” you mutter. you prepare mentally and physically for the time you’ll be spending here.

30 minutes in your brain is hurting and you’re completely frustrated. you begin working on a problem jeno gave you until your ears pick up a conversation behind you “omg did you see y/n with jeno?” one voice says “omg yeah i bet she’s trying to get into his pants” the other voice replies with a giggle. you can’t blame them you have a reputation, but it doesn’t give them the right to talk about you like that. “she’s such a fucking slut. poor jeno” the first voice says.

jeno notices your mood change and the conversation behind him. “i heard she fucked the principal and that’s why she’s here” they just kept going. they were wrong the reason you even got into this university was because you (kinda) tried in high school. don’t get you wrong you never studied or anything you just did the bare minimum and that got you a 3.4 gpa.

your friends wondered what happened since then and it’s just because you lost motivation and wanted to have more fun, but look where that landed you. you get up from your seat causing jeno to look at you confused and worried. you give him a smile “i’ll be right back” you state before you walking over to where those girls were.

seeing you in front of them made them shocked “what? you can talk shit about me behind my back why not in my face” you raise your brow waiting for them to respond. they just look at each other before one of them finally speaks up. “w-well it’s not like we’re wrong! look at yourself you dress like a prostitute” she spits out. the other girl taps her friend and points somewhere behind you. you turn around confused and see jeno.

“what’s going on here?” he asks. both the girls in front of you begin to stutter “n-nothing” “nothing at all! we’re just talking about how much we love y/n’s outfit” you roll your eyes at their words. jeno just hums in response before grabbing your arm and taking you back to your table. “anyways let’s continue our tutoring. don’t let anyone distract you.” he says giving you back your pencil.

you sigh before continuing solving the equations given.

2 hours pass and you’ve grown tired. “do you think we can stop for today?” you ask letting out a yawn. jeno chuckles before nodding. “oh i forgot to ask earlier but what would you want in return for you helping me? money, food or something else? i’m okay with doing anything” you turn to him. jeno ponders seeing if there is anything you could possibly help or do for him.

“can- no never mind that’s too embarrassing to ask for” he says blushing and looking away. this interests you a lot and makes you wonder. “just ask i already said id do anything” you say softly somewhat implying something. “i-i can’t” he stutters his nervousness makes you grin. you place a hand on his thigh to “comfort” him and it causes him to flinch. “jeno you can tell me” you pout tilting your head. he looks at the hand on his thigh then up at you.

“i have no experience…in you know” he mutters because you could hardly hear him you lean in closer “repeat what you said louder” he looks at you all flustered which makes something purr and it’s definitely not your pet cat at home. “can you h-help me um” he groans “take your time baby” you giggle. his ears perk up at the nickname you didn’t even realize you said.

“can you um unvirgin me?” he says softly looking at you with a vulnerable expression. you can’t help but giggle “unvirgin? seriously?” he looks at you embarrassed. “jeno are you sure? wouldn’t you want to save something like that for someone special?” you giggle again “i have no experience and everyone around our age has at least done it once and all my friends tease me” he looks at you with a pleading gaze.

“fine. i’ll unvirgin you, but only if i pass a math test. just so that’ll give you time to think this through” you stand up. jeno quickly nods before standing up as well and walking you to your car. “u-uh ill text you about our next session” he stutters slightly which makes him want to punch himself. you nod before driving off.

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