#i wanted to know what other people thought of it

[goldfades]

HOTTEST COUPLE IN THE ROOM ───JB⁹

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2.5k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | requested! -> "Joe x Dallas cowboy cheerleader reader"

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | reader is kinda perceived as bitchy, and not a cookie-cutter dcc. lots of a banter, leads to relationship.

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | my new fav thing EVER

The bass shakes the floor beneath your heels, the scent of top-shelf liquor and expensive cologne thick in the air. The postgame party is exactly what you expected—too many people, too much noise, and a lingering sense of competition that doesn’t quite fade even after the game’s final whistle. Cowboys and Bengals players mix like oil and water, good-natured jabs tossed between sips of whiskey, the occasional laugh laced with something sharper.

You don’t want to be here.

But when the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders make an appearance, it’s not optional. It’s PR. It’s “team camaraderie.” It’s smiling through gritted teeth while some dude in a suit with more money than personality tells you how impressive it is that you can do a perfect high kick in full glam.

You adjust the hem of your dress, shifting against the leather couch tucked in the VIP section. It’s not that you’re bad at playing the part. You just don’t fit the mold the way you’re supposed to. The other girls—prim, polished, always camera-ready—glide through the room like they were born for this. You, on the other hand, are already toeing the line of “too much.” Too opinionated, too unpredictable, too unwilling to be anything other than exactly who you are.

And yet, you’re still here. Because when you dance, they shut up about the rest.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show,” a voice drawls beside you, cutting through the music.

Your gaze shifts, locking onto the last person you expected to seek you out tonight. Joe Burrow.

His suit jacket is slung over his arm, the sleeves of his crisp white button-down rolled up just enough to give him that effortlessly put-together look. He’s got that half-smirk that’s made him a social media obsession, and yet there’s something else in his expression—curiosity, maybe. Amusement.

You raise a brow. “Didn’t think you knew who I was.”

“Oh, I know who you are.” His eyes flicker, something sharp and knowing in them. “Hard to miss the cheerleader who doesn’t play by the rules.”

You tilt your head, feigning offense. “I play by the rules.”

Joe huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Nah. You don’t. You just make it look like you do.”

And there it is. The first crack in the game, the unspoken understanding settling between you like a drawn line in the sand.

It should be nothing.

But somehow, it doesn’t feel like nothing.

You lean back against the couch, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, the other toying with the rim of the drink you don’t actually want. The ice clinks softly as you swirl it, eyes flicking back to Joe, unimpressed but not entirely disinterested.

“Wow,” you deadpan. “Joe Burrow knows my reputation. I guess I can retire now.”

Joe huffs a quiet laugh, the kind that barely shakes his shoulders. “Just saying, you don’t blend in.”

You lift a brow. “Neither do you.”

His smirk deepens, just a little. “Difference is, I’m supposed to stand out.”

You roll your eyes. “God, you’re worse than I thought.”

Joe blinks, feigning offense. “Worse?”

“Yeah.” You tilt your head, taking him in. “I figured you’d at least let me get a word in before pulling the ‘I’m Joe Burrow’ card.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

The smirk on his face falters just a fraction, like he’s recalculating his approach. He came over here thinking he’d charm you with minimal effort, just like he probably does with every other girl in this room. You can’t blame him. You’re used to guys like him—ones who assume that a few smooth lines and a good jawline will be enough to win you over. It’s exhausting, really.

Joe, to his credit, seems to pick up on it quickly. He shifts his stance, dropping the easy arrogance just a notch, watching you like he’s trying to figure out a new play mid-game.

“So, you don’t like football players,” he guesses.

“I never said that.”

“You don’t seem impressed.”

“I’m just not easily impressed.”

Joe clicks his tongue, shaking his head like he’s been personally challenged. “Tough crowd.”

You let out a short laugh, finally taking a sip of your drink. The warmth spreads through you, smoothing the edges of your already sharp tongue. “Look, I get it. You’re Joe Cool, media darling, golden boy, future Hall of Famer, blah, blah, blah. But none of that tells me who you actually are.”

Joe’s quiet for a beat, like he wasn’t expecting you to cut through the bullshit so quickly. Most people don’t.

He studies you. “You wanna know who I am?”

“I wanna know if you can hold a conversation that doesn’t involve your highlight reel.”

Joe grins, shaking his head like you’re more trouble than he bargained for—but not the kind he wants to walk away from.

“Alright,” he says, leaning in slightly. “Let’s make it fair. Since you’re so uninterested in my career, how about I ask about yours?”

You narrow your eyes. “Go for it.”

He tilts his head. “You always wanted to be a cheerleader?”

You pause for a fraction of a second. It’s not a bad question, but it’s not the usual small talk either. It’s got an edge to it, like he’s actually curious.

“No,” you admit. “I wanted to be an astronaut.”

Joe snorts. “Serious?”

“As a heart attack.” You smirk. “But apparently, NASA frowns upon people who talk back to their instructors.”

Joe laughs now, really laughs, and it does something to his face—makes it lighter, less perfectly put-together. It’s a nice look on him.

“So, you settled for the next most intense program?” he asks.

“Something like that.” You glance around the room, at the Cowboys players, the other cheerleaders, the high-profile guests all schmoozing and clinking glasses. “DCC is its own version of NASA. Just with more hairspray and stricter calorie counts.”

Joe hums, considering that. “And yet, you don’t seem the type to take orders.”

You shrug. “I don’t. But I’m really, really good at what I do.”

His gaze lingers for half a second too long. “Yeah,” he says, low and thoughtful. “I bet you are.”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes your breath catch for just a second—not because you’re flustered, but because it feels like he actually sees you, past the sequins and forced smiles and PR obligations.

You tap your nails against your glass, breaking whatever was starting to settle between you. “Well, congrats,” you say, all light and teasing again. “You managed to hold a conversation without bringing up your own stats.”

Joe grins, lazy and triumphant. “And?”

You take a slow sip, watching him over the rim of your glass. “You’re not completely insufferable.”

Joe laughs, leaning back into the couch. “I’ll take it.”

The first date wasn’t supposed to happen.

At least, not in your mind.

But Joe had this way of slipping through the cracks of your carefully built walls, catching you off guard in a way that wasn’t annoying, but intriguing. So, when he had looked at you across that crowded party and said, “One drink. No football talk,” you had rolled your eyes, but ultimately, you had agreed.

One drink turned into three. A post-midnight drive through downtown. A completely ridiculous bet over who could name more obscure 90s songs (you won, obviously). And then, somehow, a second date.

And that was the real surprise.

Because by then, you figured you had him pegged. Star quarterback, smooth operator, probably used to women falling over themselves to impress him. But the Joe you saw away from the cameras, when it was just the two of you in a dimly lit hole-in-the-wall bar or sprawled out on his couch, eating takeout straight from the boxes, was different. He was easy in a way that felt familiar, like a song you hadn’t heard in years but still knew all the words to.

And he got you.

Most guys would tense up when you made some sarcastic comment, unsure if they should be amused or offended. Joe just smirked and shot one right back, quick and sharp like one of his passes. The banter was effortless, the chemistry undeniable, but it never felt forced.

It felt like you’d known him forever.

Which was dangerous.

Because you weren’t supposed to like him this much.

But a few months flew by before you could think too hard about it.

One minute, you were rolling your eyes at him in a Dallas bar. The next, you were sneaking glances at your phone in the middle of DCC rehearsals, trying not to smile at whatever nonsense he had just texted you.

Then came the flights.

You found yourself booking tickets to Cincinnati more often than you’d ever expected, trading in your Texas sunsets for the sharp chill of Ohio air, showing up in his city like you belonged there. And the crazy part? It never felt inconvenient. You had never been the type to rearrange your schedule for a guy, but with Joe, it was different. He made the effort too—catching flights to see you between games, showing up unannounced just to grab dinner, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

It should’ve been overwhelming, but it wasn’t.

Because nothing about Joe was ever boring.

You’d expected the excitement in the beginning—the flirty back-and-forth, the teasing, the lingering looks that stretched longer than they should. But what you hadn’t expected was the way he made everything feel lighter. How he made you laugh when you were dead on your feet after an exhausting game day. How he somehow always knew when you needed to talk and when you just needed to sit in comfortable silence.

And yeah, the tension was there. Always.

You weren’t blind, and Joe sure as hell wasn’t either. There were moments—when his hand lingered on your lower back a second too long, when you caught him watching you with that unreadable expression, when he pulled you into a hug that felt like it meant something more.

But neither of you pushed it. Not yet.

For now, it was enough to just exist in whatever this was.

And, for the first time in a long time, you weren’t in any rush to define it.

The New York City skyline stretched high above the venue, lights twinkling like they were in on the secret that tonight was something different.

Joe didn’t hide you.

He hadn’t from the start, really, but there was a difference between showing up for each other in private and standing next to him now, his hand resting low on your back, his fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress like he wanted everyone to see exactly where you belonged.

And you?

You looked good enough to ruin a man’s career.

Your dress was the kind that turned heads—sleek, with just enough edge to remind people that you weren’t the typical quarterback’s girlfriend. Joe wasn’t intimidated by it, wasn’t the type to shrink when his girl demanded attention. No, if anything, he was thriving on it. Walking into the party with you on his arm, chin high, like he knew for a fact that you were the hottest couple in the room.

And you were.

It didn’t matter that the place was full of some of the most famous athletes in the league, that models and influencers and A-listers milled around with expensive drinks in hand—no one looked as good as the two of you together.

Joe left you only once, leaning down to murmur, “Gonna get us a drink, don’t go too far.”

You weren’t worried about being left alone. You’d been in these rooms before, could handle yourself just fine.

But apparently, someone didn’t get the memo.

The moment Joe was out of earshot, a presence settled beside you—too close, too confident.

“Damn, haven’t seen you in a minute.”

You already knew you were going to hate him before you even looked.

And sure enough, when you turned, there he was. A Cowboys player, one you’d interacted with just enough to know he was exactly the type you had no patience for. Cocky in a way that wasn’t charming, self-important in a way that made your skin itch.

You barely had time to open your mouth before he bulldozed on.

“So, what, you finally got tired of playing in the kiddie pool and upgraded?” He grinned, not even waiting for you to respond. “Figured it was only a matter of time. The whole ‘untouchable cheerleader’ thing was getting old.”

You smiled. Smirked, really. Because this? This was amusing.

He thought you were flustered. Thought you were scrambling for a way out.

Like you hadn’t been shutting down men like him since the first time you ever put on that DCC uniform.

“Oh, yeah,” you said, voice smooth as silk. “Joe’s an upgrade, alright.” You tilted your head, eyes dragging over him in an exaggerated once-over. “But considering what I was working with before, it really didn’t take much.”

His smile flickered, but he was too stubborn to let it go. “C’mon, you don’t have to pretend with me. I know you, remember? Back when you were just another Dallas girl trying to play hard to get?”

You actually laughed at that.

Not a fake, polite one. A real one. Because this was just sad.

“Wow,” you mused. “I’ve gotta give it to you, you commit to the bit. Most guys would’ve tapped out by now, but you? You’re still going. That’s dedication.”

His jaw tensed just slightly. “I’m just saying, no need to act all high and mighty. We both know you used to—”

“Used to what?”

Your voice was still sweet, still playful, but the underlying steel was there. And when you took a slow sip of your drink, watching him over the rim, it was clear you were letting him dig his own grave.

Before he could figure out how to claw his way out, a shadow loomed beside you.

Joe.

But not in the swooping, Oh no! My girl is in distress! way.

No, he was calm. Casual. Like he had all the time in the world. His presence alone was enough to shift the energy in the conversation, but you didn’t even acknowledge him yet. You wanted to see just how long it would take for the guy in front of you to realize he’d lost.

Turns out, not long.

Joe didn’t say anything, just leaned slightly against the bar, watching with mild interest. But the weight of his presence alone did something to your uninvited guest—made him shift uncomfortably, made his easy confidence crack just a little.

And that? That was satisfying.

“I was just catching up with your girl,” the Cowboy muttered, backtracking so fast you almost wanted to laugh.

Joe didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah?” He glanced at you, finally acknowledging you with a knowing smirk. “You having fun?”

You took another sip, grinning. “Oh, loads.”

The guy beside you tensed. “I was just—”

“Leaving?” you supplied helpfully.

His mouth opened. Closed. Then, without another word, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Joe chuckled, finally handing you the drink he had left to get. “You were having way too much fun with that.”

You shrugged, taking a sip. “Can you blame me?”

He shook his head, draping an arm lazily around your waist, pulling you in just slightly. “Guess not.”

And the night went on.

Just you and Joe. The hottest couple in the room.

[astonmartinii]

other side of the moon - chapter six | formula one imagine

chapter six: fireproof

pairing: fem retired formula one driver reader x ??? fem retired formula one driver reader x platonic!kimi antonelli

testing is finally here and after the car launch, y/n is not looking forward to the mercedes garage

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | SERIES MASTERLIST

the day and a half after the car launch before max was called into the factory by red bull was a slice of peace y/n had longed for for three years. but also one she couldn’t help think would be the last bit of peace she would be afforded this season.

the pair woke up the morning after the launch, bundled up together and hair sticking up in every direction.

“good morning” y/n said, words smothered by max’s chest. the dutchman grumbled to himself as he wrapped his arms around her even tighter.

“max, your phone won’t stop vibrating - please tell whoever it is to fuck off”

max groaned, flipped over and grabbed his phone. with his eyes shut, max jammed a couple buttons and suddenly the gravely voice of helmut marko rung out.

“max! where are you? the team have just informed me that you left early and are not at the hotel?”

the dutchman finally opened his eyes. he pulled y/n back into his side and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“helmut, it’s too early for this many questions.”

“i asked you one, very straight forward question, max.”

“i’ll be at the factory tomorrow, don’t worry.”

helmut sighed down the phone, “wherever you are, make sure you’re not late and not spotted doing anything untoward.”

“me? untoward? helmut, i didn’t know you thought so low of me.”

“the only reason i believe you is because you’re on your best behaviour with y/n back, maybe we should add her to our payroll as well.”

y/n couldn’t stop herself before she burst out laughing. she smacked a hand over her mouth but it was too late. helmut hummed.

“i see. good morning miss y/ln. make sure he’s in top condition for tomorrow.”

“will do, helmut.”

max hung up as soon as he could and threw his phone down the bed. he smiles down at y/n, “that’s not exactly how i pictured my first morning in bed with you.”

“so you’ve pictured this?” y/n questions, raising an eyebrow.

“no? yes? maybe? i definitely have but i don’t want to creep you out so what do you want to hear?”

y/n laughs as he buries his head in the pillow, whining in embarrassment.

“maxy…” she sings and pokes his back.

“don’t look at me! i’m a freak!” max yells, muffled in the pillow.

“but you’re a freak for me?”

“isn’t it obvious?”

y/n finally gets max to lessen his grip on the pillow and look back up at her. there’s a dusting of pink on his face and a concerned look in his eye.

“don’t worry, i like it. as long as you’re only a freak for me.”

max ducked his head again, “as happy as i am to hear that, can we refrain from saying it like that? i was proud i managed to wake up without morning wood and you’re really testing that resolve right now.”

y/n’s laugh reverberated around the room. without the needy meows of brando, the pair could stay snuggled in the bed for much longer than usual.

“max?” y/n asked, the dutchman had rearranged them so that he could be the little spoon and had his head resting on her chest, “please don’t be sorry for your feelings. they don’t make me uncomfortable and unlike others you didn’t just assume i reciprocated. i like what we have and i want to see where it could go, but i want to take it slow. i don’t want people butting in and adding their two pence. i just want you - and our furry babies.”

y/n could see the smile breaking out on max’s face before he even lifted his head from her chest.

“i said i just want to exist with you,” max said, “that will never, ever change.”

the dutchman’s eyes flicked down to her lips and the blush returned when he realised he wasn’t too subtle about it. y/n gives him a small nod and max leans in.

“can i?”

“please,” y/n whispered as max’s lips connected with hers. it was a small peck, just a press of lips, but it was enough. both pulled back and smiled, happy to breathe the same air for a while. y/n’s hand wrapped around his nape and pulled him in for another one. this kiss lasted longer, the pair pouring their years of pining into it, communicating something words could not describe.

for a moment y/n wished that she hadn’t returned to formula one. she wished that this would be her life. happy in her coop in west london with her and max’s cats waiting for the dutchman to come home, far away from her past ghosts and the sport that nearly killed her.

“will you still find me attractive in mercedes kit?”

“that’s a stupid question. you’re the most beautiful person in the world. yes, i would prefer if it were my number and my colours, but i’ll live with it if it means seeing you at every race.”

y/n giggled, the dutchman pressed another kiss to her lips because he could.

“i know you’ll be rooting for kimi this season, but i’ll win every race for you. even if the red bull is a shit box, i’ll fight everyone to bring that trophy home to you.”

“my singular monza trophy is a little lonely,” y/n said, “but your wins are yours, not anyone else’s”

y/n pushed back the duvet and started to get out of bed, much to the chagrin of max. despite his attempted puppy-dog eyes, y/n shuffled into her slippers and made her way to the kitchen.

“find something good to watch, i’ll cook up one last cheat meal for you,” y/n’s voice called from the hallway. max stayed led in the bed, a dumb smile on his face. it all felt a bit too good to be true and he hoped those in the paddock who had already caused some trouble would stay out of this.

despite another night of snuggles, max did not want to leave for milton keynes the next morning. y/n had made him a breakfast sandwich for the ride, but it did little to console the young dutchman even though the pair would be apart for just two days before they’d reunite in monaco and fly out to bahrain.

“i don’t wanna go… i want to stay here, you’re so much nicer to look at than christian!”

max was dragging his feet as he made his way to the hire car. he even tried to delay his departure by roping frank into a conversation but y/n had thought of that and rung down to reception in advance.

“it’s like you want me gone!” max cried as he put his bags in the car.

y/n laced her fingers in his, “you know i’ll miss you, but i don’t want to hear helmut’s voice any more than i have to, so you have to go. i’ll see you in monaco.”

max pulled her into one last kiss and reluctantly got into the car. y/n waved him off as he disappeared into the streets of london.

“finally!”

a yell boomed out in the garage, making y/n jump and stick her keys out as a makeshift weapon. frank stood at the entrance of the garage with a huge smile on his face. y/n calmed down when she saw the older man.

“frank! that scared the shit out of me! how long have you been there?”

“long enough.”

frank looked very smug. y/n made her way to the entrance, pointedly ignoring the older man.

“don’t be mad, i won’t tell anyone. i’m just glad you finally realised what was right in front of you.”

did everyone see it before her? it certainly seems that way.

“we’re taking it slow, so i’d appreciate if you kept this under your hat, frank.”

“of course, miss y/ln. would you like me to arrange for another parking spot for your flat?”

y/n tried to keep a stern look but she just couldn’t help it and smiled at the older man.

“that would be lovely, thank you.”

her apartment was quiet without max. she didn’t want to say she missed him just yet, but she had to busy herself with something before she fell down that hole. she needed to pack and get a flight back to monaco so she could spend a little more time with the cats before pre-season testing kicked off the season.

y/n’s phone buzzed with a message.

kimi: y/nnnnnnnn huge favour to ask! george can only give me a lift back to london before we go to bahrain so could i maybe get a lift to brackley???

y/n: if you buy my coffee at each stop you’ve got a deal.

kimi: yes, yes. i know your order - THANK YOU !

she better get to packing.

the italian stood on the side of the road, wrapped up in two coats, a hat and a scarf. ollie stood beside him in just a t-shirt, some shorts and a pair of flip flops, showing off his british aversion to the cold.

y/n pulled up beside the pair and winded down the window. “don’t you know hitchhikers are dangerous?”

kimi smiled and gave ollie a quick hug, popping the boot and shoving his small suitcase in. the italian slipped into the passenger seat and waved at ollie.

“why didn’t i have the idea to ask you to be my mentor?” ollie whined, “esteban is great and he has already given me a ton of lifts but you’re you!”

“snooze you lose” kimi said, poking out his tongue.

“esteban is great ollie, don’t believe all this shit about him being a bad teammate. he’s lovely and will be more than happy to help you out. however, we do need to go because i need to drop off this princess and get a flight to monaco. ciao!”

y/n stood on the gas and flew off down the street. from the corner of her eye, y/n could see kimi studying her. this wasn’t too strange for the italian, he often just stared at her, amazed that she had even agreed.

“i can feel you staring kimi, do you have a question?”

“why are you so happy?”

y/n laughed at the bluntness. the italian sputtered, “i mean i’m happy you’re happy, but i can’t help but be suspicious. i haven’t heard a peep from you since the car launch… and a little birdy told me you left with a certain someone.”

“it’s been two days, kimi!”

“you’re still smiling, you can’t stop and considering you smiled maybe twice in the first couple days i knew you - this means something!”

“fine! you caught me. i did go home with max. i’m not saying anymore than we’re happy and we’re taking it slow. i’m telling you because i believe for a good mentor relationship i should be completely open, as should you. also you’re like a quasi-son to me so there’s also that. do not tell anyone else, i’m serious. not even ollie.”

kimi whined at that, “but i tell ollie everything!”

“well not this. you saw how some of the people, including your teammate are with me and max, i do not want to give them any ammunition, okay?”

kimi hummed to himself, his brain whirring so loudly that even y/n could hear it over the music and the road. “speaking of those who WILL be without ammunition because i WILL keep my mouth zipped shut… how are we actually planning on tackling george this season?”

y/n was making the turn off of the motorway and towards brackley as she chuckled, “aside from physically tackling him at testing? i am joking, by the way. kimi, i don’t want you to worry about george anywhere but the track. he talks a big talk, but he’s very easy to frustrate when he’s not winning. don’t give him the rise he’ll want, okay?”

the tension rose in the car, it had all been fun and games up until this point, cocktails parties and car launches. but now it was getting real. y/n had the voice in the back of her head that worried that her off-track drama with the other drivers could impact kimi’s career.

“please stop worrying, y/n. i know what you’re thinking, but i am capable of handling it myself. i may only be eighteen but i’m not afraid of anyone.”

y/n pulled up outside of the mercedes factory and turned to kimi. she grabbed his hands, “promise me, kimi. promise me that if the drama with me gets too much, you will say something. i know it’s your dream to work with me, but make sure i do not interfere with your career.”

kimi scoffed, “them being afraid of you will never be your fault, you know-”

“it doesn’t matter if my fault or not, if their pettiness fucks with you, i won’t be able to forgive myself…”

just as they spoke, george pulled up beside them in his mercedes. the brit wasn’t alone in his car however. a brunette woman sat in the passenger seat, and much like george, her eyes narrowed at the sight of y/n.

“that’s carmen, george’s girlfriend. she doesn’t usually come to the factory with him?” kimi gasped, “maybe she’s here to stake her claim on george, as if you’d want him anyway…”

y/n laughed as kimi got out of the car. the italian grabbed his stuff from the boot and walked round to the window. y/n rolled it down and the two did their handshake.

“enjoy the prep, bunny, don’t make too much mess. see you in bahrain!”

the moment was cut short by someone clearing their throat. carmen had rolled down her window and was looking at kimi, less than impressed. the italian squeaked a quick goodbye and shuffled towards the entrance.

y/n tried not to make eye contact with carmen as she inputted the airport’s address into her gps. she was baffled by the news that george even had a girlfriend, not that she wanted kimi or the couple to know that. how long had they been together? did she know about y/n and about george’s weird feud with her? too many questions and not enough answers.

george and carmen made their way past y/n’s car and stopped just in front of the entrance, pointedly in y/n’s eye line. the two kissed, messily for people their age, and just to sum up her return so far, george kept eye contact with y/n the entire time, his hand wandering lower and lower on carmen.

2025 was the year of psychological warfare it seemed. y/n could work with that.

she sped out of the car park with new vigour. if psychological warfare was what george was ordering, y/n needed to know everything about everyone. she had stayed away from the drama surrounding formula one in her three years away from the sport, but it was time to go full gossip girl.

it’s crazy how much you can find in an hour in an airline bar about your former colleagues. y/n’s phone started ringing loudly, earning her some dirty looks in the lounge.

“maxy! did you know that george dated nyck’s sister?” y/n said, shovelling the free nuts in her mouth, “and that lando and pierre once liked the same girl in dubai?”

“why oh why are you telling me about this?” max said.

“because that prick wants psychological warfare, so i have to know everything!”

max hummed, not convinced. “am i like missing something?”

“i took kimi to brackley this morning and was treated to a lovely show from george and carmen. the weirdo kept eye contact with me the entire time! so if he wants to play it like that, i gotta know my enemies.”

“as weird as this all is, i’m glad to see you’re so into all of this, miss detective.”

y/n laughed, “i know i’m reading way too much about all of this, but i swear to god if he tries to fuck with kimi or you, i’ll play dirty if i have to. i mean i just don’t understand why he’s being such an asshole now about everything i supposedly did when he has a girlfriend - insecure much?”

max laughed down the line, they really were so much more alike than people would think. hearing her now, max wished she was back in the paddock for qatar and abu dhabi last year just to see what kind of revenge she could’ve thought up.

“anyway, maxy, are you still at the factory?”

“yeah, we’re just on a break, i’m outside getting some air and i didn’t know whether you were on the plane yet or not - you know you could’ve taken air max if you wanted to?”

y/n smiled, “i didn’t need your plane for a trip to monaco, silly! i’ll only be on the flight for a little while anyway and i’m only going because i’m having withdrawal symptoms from my babies!”

“why would you say this, now i want to see them!”

the boarding sign popped up, “ah! i gotta go maxy, i’ll text you when i’m back at yours - what time does the cat sitter go?”

“she will have left like an hour or so before you get back. stay safe, i -”

there was chatter in the background, “i gotta go, bye!”

max hung up quickly. y/n was left to her thoughts again and just how much life can change. this time three years ago she was making notes about the season coming, turns to watch and previous first lap incidents and now she’s compiling gossip on the grid’s personal lives? part of her wanted to be ashamed, but in the same vain, she knew that her adversaries hadn’t spared a moment for introspection.

max’s apartment in monaco was alight with the impatient meows from brando, sassy and jimmy. the cats yowled like they hadn’t been fed in days, although clarissa, the cat sitter, had sent max and y/n nearly hourly updates on them.

“oh my babies! momma missed you so much!” y/n said, abandoning her suitcase at the door and ushering the cats towards the couch. once she was sat, brando bullied his way onto her lap, his spot, and jimmy and sassy snuggled up beside her as closely as possible.

she pulled out her phone and snapped a quick picture of herself and the cats and sent it to max.

max: all my favourites in one place, you’re making listening to christian drone on even harder

y/n: you better keep listening, maxy, don’t want anyone else winning this season do you?

max: i do hate losing…

y/n smiled to herself, there was no lying to now, this place with the cats and max felt like home. the most at home y/n had felt for years.

“right, momma needs to shower and cook, babies!” brando did not look impressed but consoled himself by going back to grooming an equally unimpressed jimmy.

y/n rustled around max’s wardrobe trying to find a smaller towel for her hair. max wasn’t the most organised, especially with a wardrobe where he could just shut the door and forget the mess behind it. she finally got the towel loose, but with the last yank, a small book came flying out of the wardrobe.

the book was a small leather-bound book, clearly loved, bursting at the seams with use. y/n flicked open the book, scanning a couple of the pages. she could recognise the handwriting anywhere, was this max’s diary?

y/n flicked through a couple more of the pages before she landed on a page that boldly stated “fuck lando” in bold capitals. oh? the page was dated for a day in january 2020, just before she started her formula one career.

she knew this was a massive invasion of privacy, but max had never mentioned having a bust up with lando around that time - her curiosity had gotten the better of her.

i don’t know what lando’s problem is? i was on a discord call with him, george and alex this evening and he was in such a mood with me. it was all about y/n as usual with him, he’s being proper weird about her. of course we’ve already started training and discussing racing lines? we’re best friends. it’s almost like he knows i have feelings for her? but i know i haven’t been THAT obvious, at least not as bad as him and george. they think i don’t know, but they must think i’m dumb or blind (or both). he’s going to ruin his friendship with her if he’s not careful. i have loved y/n for as long as i can remember, but i don’t ever intend on making that her problem - why would she ever want to be with me? they assume because they’ve known her so long that they have this weird claim on her. i don’t know - i have a bad feeling about how this might all play out… i’ll just be there for y/n, she’s going to need it…

y/n slapped the book shut, feeling guilty about just how much she had read. max had liked her for that long? even when she was a jittery rookie with hormonal acne and way too much to say. and lando has always had this problem? there was never any chance of them being good teammates was there?

it feels like there’s a surprise around every corner since y/n reopened the pandora’s box that is formula one. how much was there left to reveal? to hurt her? can she handle what other secrets the sport has waiting for her?

but on the other side, if she had stayed in the shadows, y/n would’ve never known about max’s feelings and would never have the opportunity for what she feels right now.

y/n tucked the book back in the wardrobe and tried to wash the guilt off in the shower.

bahrain international circuit

testing was a boring affair for everyone that wasn’t in or working on the car. y/n was on her third coffee of the morning just out of pure boredom. kimi was in the car for the morning session and despite him paying her salary, toto did not seem like he’d make good conversation based on the frown on his face.

y/n saw sky making their way back down the pit lane and ducked back into the drivers’ rooms. because timing and fate loved y/n, george was leaving his just at the same moment.

it took a concerted effort not to roll her eyes as she forced out a quick good morning. george stopped in his tracks.

“good morning to you too?”

y/n gave him a nod and continued to kimi’s room, george grabbed her hand.

“are we going to have a problem the entire season? all of kimi’s career?”

“why would i have a problem, george? is there a reason i should have a problem?”

george huffed, “listen to me. we used to be so close… i wasn’t the one who crashed into you, why are you treating me like this?”

“george i’m not treating you like anything! 19 other drivers didn’t hear from me, you’re not special.”

y/n took a sip of her coffee, trying to school her heart rate, “you may have not crashed into me, but you hardly said much afterwards. you didn’t even come and visit me in the hospital? you didn’t post or say a single thing about me? you barely could bring yourself to say my name, so please spare me the lecture.”

george opened his mouth to respond but stopped, he tried to make eye contact with y/n but she avoided it.

“i didn’t think you wanted to see anyone to do with formula one! and you’re you! you hate dumb shit like instagram dedications and all that stuff…”

“you and your little partner in crime seem to be baffled about how max was the one who slipped through the cracks and stayed in my life. well read between the lines, idiot! his dedication to me is still pinned on his account, my number is on his helmet and he made the effort after the crash! you did nothing and you still expect me to coddle you?”

george tried to interject, “no! i think you’ve said enough already, george. you say all of this shit about how i led you on, but now you’re bringing up old drama when you’ve been in a relationship for years? so what’s the real reason? because so help me god, you fuck with kimi and i burn this whole place down.”

just behind george, y/n saw toto come into view. the austrian’s face told her that he had heard everything.

“well wasn’t that just great, thank you, you two. next time you have a domestic at track, please lower your voice, the entire garage now knows your business.”

“toto, i can assure you i will be nothing less than professional this season. winning with mercedes is my top priority, y/n will learn her place in this garage.”

even toto seemed taken aback by george’s words. y/n turned, her shoulder knocking george’s on the way past, “i think toto is well aware of who he hired and i know my place, just like kimi knows his… don’t crane your neck too much looking up at him on the podium.”

y/n shut the door to kimi’s driver room, and slid down to the floor. it was only the first day of testing and she’s exhausted. just outside the room she can hear george and toto still talking.

“i’m just saying i think it’s insane and honestly a little disrespectful that you hired her to begin with, toto.”

“i hired her because she was a talented driver and is willing to mentor kimi. i was not aware you two had a problem, and the fact that i’ve heard so much about it now without knowing what it actually is makes me think that the problem was in fact YOU. now calm down and get ready for your session.”

okay, maybe not all hope was lost. but y/n knew that this was just the start, the real racing had yet to begin and who knows how far george could take it, especially if the mercedes is competitive and especially if he finds out about her and max.

y/n popped open her laptop to keep track of kimi’s times on track but found herself struggling to keep her eyes open. by the time her impromptu nap had finished, kimi was making his way back into the garage, finishing the morning session. y/n made her way back into the garage to greet him as he made his way out of the car.

the session looked positive for the italian, but the pair were still anxious to see how george would perform, considering both were on the same program for the day. when kimi lifted his helmet, the two made eye contact, the italian’s eyes were so expressive that y/n could already hear the excited chatter.

“oh my god, y/n that was amazing! i know i’ve driven f1 cars before but knowing it’s actually mine for the season? wow!”

“well i’m glad you enjoyed it, let’s get some electrolytes in you before we sit down to analyse everything.”

the pair headed for the mercedes hospitality, with the other morning drivers doing the same throughout the paddock. during y/n’s nap she had missed the only real incident of the day, but a certain spaniard was about to make sure she knew.

“hey! antonelli!”

kimi’s head whipped around to see an angry carlos sainz charging towards him. the spaniard was clearly taking advantage of the lack of media outlets allowed at testing, getting in kimi’s face.

“you might be a rookie, but you’ll stay out of my way, got it? impede me like that again and we’ll see what happens!”

y/n pulled kimi behind her and jabbed her finger at carlos’ chest. “you self-important asshole, he didn’t impede you it’s testing. i know you’re at williams this season, so you’re going to have to invent a storyline for yourself, but trust me, this is not the one you want.”

“stay out of this y/ln, why don’t you stick to hopping into whoever’s winning’s bed, huh?”

y/n let out a sarcastic laugh, not caring about the small crowd forming around them. “your glory days, well whatever you call being stuck in charles’ shadow, playing politics with daddy to get given wins at ferrari only to be cast aside when you got a bit too big for your boots, are over. don’t be the bitter old bitch that makes rookies’ lives hell? oh wait, you’ve always been that way haven’t you?”

“you are a perpetual victim, y/n. that was years ago, get over it.”

“and yet you still act the exact same way. telling, really.”

carlos stayed quiet this time and y/n took that as the chance to guide kimi to hospitality. with their backs turned, “she won’t always be there for you, rookie! she can’t sleep with all of the stewards and she won’t be in the office to bat her eyelashes. so watch your back.”

y/n kept walking despite kimi tugging on her arm, wanting to retaliate. “stop. let him make a fool of himself.”

despite y/n trying to de-escalate the situation, max was less willing to do so. the dutchman had only heard a fraction but that was enough to rear the head of mad max.

“you think you’re so cute with this shit don’t you, sainz,” max said, looming over the spaniard, “you people never change, it’s pathetic.”

“the only thing that’s pathetic here is you, being her lap dog - and we’re meant to be scared of you? all we gotta do is flash an ankle or raise a hand and you’ll be eating out of our palm.”

max’s hands were shaking by his side and it took everything inside of him not to lunge at carlos. y/n’s grip on kimi tightened when jos was brought up, the crowd around them tensing as well.

“i don’t know what she does for you, but you surely can’t still be falling for it all these years later. i remember at toro rosso when you’d wake up the whole camp screaming in your motorhome and you’d call her crying. a four-time world champion and you still go crawling back to her.”

“she’s worth more than you could ever wish to be. i don’t know what propaganda your dad or lando has been feeding you, but you’re a grown man, you’re too old to be falling for it. now leave her and kimi alone. i’d threaten you, but it’s unlikely that williams will be anywhere near me this season.”

max gave one last look to y/n before running back towards the red bull garage. the crowd that had formed chattered amongst themselves and started to disperse. carlos looked enraged but backed off, not without one final glare towards the italian.

“i didn’t know formula one was just this dramatic,” kimi said, “i need to work on my insults!”

y/n laughed, but a voice from behind her stopped her dead in her tracks.

“always the centre of drama, aren’t you y/n? always looking for trouble.”

zak brown.

fin.

note: wow this took me so long to write and i kinda hate it! i am in such a rut rn idk what to do ? but i hope you guys enjoyed it anyway!

taglist:  @peterholland04@miureiz@freyathehuntress@lighttsoutlewis@aleatorio1234@chaosandevelyn@blueberry648579@dog-and-cat-person230@fastandcurious16@obxstiles@cosmicwintr@becca388510 @savagittariuspy@tibadi @thisbitxhs-blog @finn-dot-com @scenesofobx @moofilms @alilstressyandlotdepressy @nana-love-bugzzz @mayax2o07 @obsessed-fan-alert @1-queenofpotatoes-1 @jajouska @poppysrin @mimimarvelingmarvel @jiyumie @heeseungthel0ml 

@folkloresreputation@hc-dutch@shimmermotorsport@96mcobo@eclipsedcherry@formulaal@czennieszn@gothicwidowsworld@emily-b@suns3treading@henna006@kazgirl20@anotherapollokid@littlegrapejuice@daemyratwst@annimausi@yawn-zi@lulu-1998@xsilkesworld@justaf1girl@daddyslittlevillain@abq654@elizamoe1@evans-dejong33@wierdflowerpower@t1nkerbel1@okcurran@raizelchrysanderoctavius@skepvids@multilovebot@fernandoalonso14@jules-kup-172@m4xgirlie@rorabelle15@minkyungseokie@formula1-motogpfan 

[lambilegs]

best friend's older sister!sevika headcanons pt. 2

contains: modern!au, nsfw content (so minors/ageless blogs dni!!), cursing, reader is mentioned to have family issues, hcs + blurbs set pre-confession and post-confession, mention of spanking, strap-on sex (reader receiving), breeding kink, dirty talk, degrading (the word "slut" is used), humiliation kink, sevika physically teasing reader at family dinner, mention of smoking, reader's body is referred to w the terms "pussy" and "clit"

pt. 1

best friend's older sister!sevika who pauses outside her door when she hears the muffled noises of your crying, followed by her sister's voice. her eyebrows immediately draw in concern, stomach turning as possibilities run through her mind. you mentioned having an exam earlier this week -- did you fail it? was someone bothering you? did you need her to do anything?

when her sister's in the shower, she knocks quietly on the door, your call of, "yeah?" pushing her to enter.

once she does, her eyes immediately scan your face, looking for signs of distress. when she finds your eyes pink and glossy, a bolt of nervousness shoots through her, taking her off guard for a second.

once she swallows down the feeling, she tilts her head at you, leaning on the frame. "all okay?" she asks, trying to keep her voice levelled, not wanting to reveal just how much worry is stirring within.

"yeah." your mouth is twisted in something resembling pain, and she eyes you carefully as you sit up in the bed. "it's just, you know, family stuff."

she nods. she understands that, alright. most people would think that being the older of the two, she'd fight with her father less than her little sister, but the truth is that out of everyone in her house, they butt heads more than anyone else. she usually shrugs it off when anyone asks, with her most popular coping mechanism being fuming in her bedroom with a cigar while heavy music blankets over all her thoughts. probably not the healthiest way to react, but it's worked for this long. besides, she doesn't have the patience to sit at a desk and do that journalling bullshit her sister always prattles on about.

"sorry." she contemplates for a few moments on what else she could say to help, rocking on the balls of her sock-clad feet. all she comes up with is, "families suck," silently berating herself for being so incompetent.

but, at least you laugh, the noise a bit breathless, so sevika takes pride in that. "yeah, that's the understatement of the century."

"do you wanna, I don't know, talk about it?" just to ease the weight of the question, she mutters, "you know, I'm pretty good at belting insults at anyone who deserves it."

"oh, yes, I'm sure of it." you nod at the wall where the shower can be heard from. "she's told me how vicious you were in middle school."

she bristles, feeling her stomach tighten in embarrassment. she was a little asshole, alright, and she can't lie, her younger sister bore the brunt of it. something she secretly regrets now -- not that she'd ever admit to it. she probably never would've revealed it you in the first place if not for her sister ratting her out.

"well, I-- that was middle school. I'm not like that now."

your eyebrow raises, lips tilting up. "you know, some people would argue that who you are as a kid shows what kind of person you are at the core of it."

she scoffs. "who, freud? considering the other stuff I've heard about that guy, I think I'll pass on believing that bullshit."

"oh, c'mon, I can tell you all the merits about his theories."

"and while that sounds riveting, I guess, I'd prefer knowing if you... you know, need anything?" she shrugs, her eyes trained on you.

you smile softly, the corners of your lips crinkling. "thank you. I don't feel like talking about it much now, but I appreciate it a lot."

she nods, rasping on the doorframe, unsure as to how to proceed now.

"huh, someone's not really used to this."

she rolls her eyes, sending you a half-hearted glare. "oh, shut up."

best friend's older sister!sevika whose attention towards you is beginning to become obvious, even for you. she's started seeking you out instead of any of your other friends when she's looking for her sister, and when she enters the room, her eyes always flicker to you immediately. it makes you feel like a spotlight is casted upon you, your entire body, your entire being, reserved for sevika.

one day, one of the girls in your group leans over to you, her tone lowered with conspiracy. "you know, I think sevika has a thing for you."

your best friend groans, smacking her arm. "god, please! that's my sister, for god's sake."

"and? she's hot?"

her face morphs into complete disgust, eyes squeezing shut. "please, that's so fucking gross."

while you laugh along with the conversation, you can't help but warily glance to your best friend, mind whirring with thoughts of whether or not she's being earnest. you and sevika aren't, well, anything really -- at least not anything officially declared or acted upon. for months, it's just been tosses and back-and-forths of teasing and flirting. but, there has been no step over the threshold that divides you two between nameless, vague chemistry and the agreement to work towards a real relationship.

but, still, there is something there, and you cradle a hope in your chest that it'll turn into more one day, an actual thing that can be named. but, it's hard to feel positive about that outcome when you're not even certain if your best friend would approve or feel comfortable.

she meets your pondering stare, and you immediately backtrack, turning away so she can't read what's on your face.

a moment later, her palm rests on your knee and she laughs, tone as casual as ever when she says, "honestly, if anyone could tame her, it's you."

your lips part in shock, but she simply squeezes down gently before carrying on with the conversation.

best friend's older sister!sevika who pretty much wants to wring her cousin's neck out when she spots her conversing with you. well, it's not the conversing that's the problem -- she's not that crazy. or at least, she pretends not to be.

it's the fact that she knows her cousin hits on every one of her and her sister's friends, and she's clearly doing that with you right now, eyes half-lidded and voice lowered to what sevika hopes sounds more like darth vader than sexy to you. god, she nearly wants to kill her sister for being stupid enough to leave you alone with her. but, judging from her sister's shit-eating grin from where she stands at the food table, sevika suspects that it was intentional.

she tries not to crush her plastic red cup in her hand and send her vodka-spiked punch spilling everywhere. when her sister had casually mentioned last night that you'd be showing up to this family barbecue, sevika, much to her own embarrassment, had felt an immediate buzz of anticipation at knowing you'd be there. it's stupid, she knows. she's a grown ass woman, not some teenager -- yet, there she was, biting back a smile as she walked up the flight of stairs back to her bedroom. and when she reached her destination, she could barely focus, her thoughts straying to how she'll get a rise out of you rather than remaining on the toy she was meant to be building for the kid she babysits, isha.

she couldn't lie to herself about it. she was goddamn excited.

if only she had known how the day would wind up. it's nearing to late afternoon, and still, she hasn't spoken to you once. as soon as you and her sister had reached, the two of you had met with your usual gaggle of girls. and sevika hadn't been in the mood to entertain their giggles and leering stares upon coming to get you from them. and so, she waited. and then, you were dragged off to talk to her sister's favourite cousins, and then, to the idiot you're currently speaking to. a few minutes into what sevika hopes is a cringe-inducing conversation, her sister had left you to go to the food table.

she knows she has no reason to be jealous of her cousin. after all, look at the dimwit, she barely has game. she's so flashy with it, no subtlety. if you weren't the object of her cousin's attention, she might've actually taken some amusement in watching from afar.

but, no, it just had to be you. she can't even blame her cousin -- after all, you do look damn good, that's for certain. if this wasn't a family event, she'd be dragging you to the nearest corner, pushing you against the wall, and teasing you until you're a squirming little mess. god, she's just throbbing at the idea of it.

but, the feeling gets washed over with ice when her dumb cousin starts stroking her knuckles against your arm. stupid kid. and why are you smiling at her? do you not realize she's flirting? do you like that she's flirting? oh, now that thought leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

her composure snaps when she sees you laugh, and with a firm toss of her cup in the nearest garbage bag, she calmly makes her way to you. she knows she ought to be better than this. she should be the one with sense, with rationality -- the one who keeps her shit together while you become a fumbling mess whose feelings might as well be written on your forehead. that should be you. not her.

but, it's like her mind is working on overdrive, all her instincts honed in on making sure she takes you away and has you all to herself.

when she slides next to you two, your jump in surprise, looking up at her. her eyes rove over your features, drinking you in, wondering momentarily if you even realize how crazy you drive her.

"hey, sev, are you looking for your sister? because she's--"

"no," she cuts in, her palm bracing against the small of your back. "give us a sec."

"wha-- but, I--"

sevika doesn't give her cousin a moment to protest, firmly guiding you away to the front of her house, which has been left secluded now that people are eating in the backyard.

when you stumble into her back from her sudden halt, you blow out a frustrated puff of air. "what the hell was that?"

she feels her thick, dark eyebrows furrow, her gaze casted down on you, unwavering and focused. "I should be asking you that. why were you talking to her?"

"your sister left me with her!" you protest, your voice raising a pitch she'd find cuter if it weren't for the sour taste in her mouth.

"and? that makes you incapable of leaving a conversation afterwards?"

your eye twitches. "and why should I have left the conversation?"

sevika swallows, feeling her throat bob with the movement. if she acts like some jealous girlfriend, it'll be all too clear what it is she feels. and that's a bit too exposing for her. sure, you two flirt and push-and-pull, but it's something she could easily pass as a game if ever needed be. but, jealousy, disliking you talking to someone other than her? that's way too obvious, and there's no way of covering that up.

so, she takes a different route. "you know, if you're gonna be hitting on someone at this thing, it should be--"

"you?"

she nearly splutters, blinking hard at your growing smirk before continuing. "no. it should be someone other than the fuckboy-wanna-be relative who hits on anything with a pair of nice legs and pretty eyes."

your smile only widens and sevika has the sudden urge to bend you over her lap until you're a sobbing mess.

"so, you think I have nice legs and pretty eyes?"

"are you dense? how is that what you focus on?" despite the harsh undertone of her words, she can feel her body stiffening up under your watchful gaze, desperately hoping you don't realize just how badly she wants your attention. it feels pathetic, really, to be putting up a fit like this because just you spoke to someone flirtatious other than her. shit, she needs to save some face.

"yeah, because I think it's weird how you're dictating who I can speak to as though you're my girlfriend or something!"

"that's not how I'm acting--"

"yes, it is!" you scoff, stalking up to her and pointing a finger against her chest, the contact making her jerk back from the spark it leaves. "you wouldn't be this pissed if it was just about concern."

she's silent for a few seconds, her mind running through possible comebacks. the only one she can think of is a hard, "you don't know that."

you tilt your head at her, as though she's some kid in need of a scolding. it only exacerbates her frustration, causing it to flare up low in her gut. "well, if it's just about you being concerned, then let me continue talking to her. you warned me, I took it in stride, and if things go wrong, you can always rub it in my face late, okay?"

she sighs, beginning to regret having ever acted out now that this is the turn the situation is taking. you were supposed to take her words in, and do as she says. instead, you're arguing back, just like you always do. but, she knows that at this point, she'd be a hypocrite to complain about it. she knows it's why she likes you.

"you really want that?"

you cross your arms over your chest, and sevika tries not to let her eyes stray downwards. "is there a reason why I shouldn't?"

stupid mind games. sometimes, she hated being gay because of this.

she likes you, sure, but she doesn't have the patience to beat around the bush. which she's aware is hypocritical and stupid, considering that's what she's been doing this entire conversation. but, still.

so, she shrugs. "beats me."

your eyes flash with something, jaw clenching. sevika can't tell if it's a look of determination or anger.

but, what does it matter if you're spinning around to stomp back into the backyard?

she releases an exasperated breath, fishing for her cigarettes.

best friend's older sister!sevika whose voice makes you jump when you're stirring instant noodles in a frothy pot of water later that night.

"jesus, sevika!" you gasp, your other hand flying to clutch your chest. "what the fuck are you doing here?"

"it's my house, remember?" she dryly remarks, padding over to the fridge and grabbing a carton of milk. pinching the flap open, she drinks straight from it. you'd find it gross if it weren't for the way her lips wrap around the soggy cardboard material, the muscles of her neck protruding as she gulps it down.

when she bends down to put it back, you turn away, your stomach churning from how any bit of laughter is totally drained from her voice, leaving it flat and achingly unfamiliar.

you've felt guilty since the barbecue. sure, it's annoying that she makes demands of you without actually admitting her feelings. but, it's clear that she was upset in that moment. so, maybe you should've been a tad nicer.

"uh, sevika?" you meekly call out right as she's about to exit the kitchen.

she freezes in the entryway, casting you a sidelong glance over her shoulder, which is pinched from the strap of her tight tank top. god, you wanna kiss the indent it leaves.

"I..." you trail off, shifting side to side on your feet, the low bubbling of the water the only noise filling the room. you don't know what's too much or too little, so you mull over your words before tentatively saying, "you know, I'm not interested in your cousin. like, at all. I had no intention of flirting back with her, or, like, pursuing something with her."

she's silent for a few seconds, her eyes flicking away as her jaw tenses, which sends her cheeks hollowing out. you stare at her for a few seconds before focusing your attention back to stirring the noodles, needing something to occupy your thoughts other than the thick, stifling tension seizing the air.

finally, she speaks, her voice low but firm with surety. "well, I didn't want you to flirt with her... for reasons other than what I said."

your stomach tightens up in anxious, gut-wrenching excitement, forcing your mouth to remain in a clenched line. you know this isn't exactly a confession, but it's unspoken between you two -- what she means, that is. there could only be one reason other than concern that would explain how protective she was earlier. a reason that, sure, you're not certain about regarding the details or her intentions, but that nonetheless has you feeling like you could jump with the amount of energy surging through you at the mention of it. no matter how vague.

you can sense she won't say anymore, though, her body rigid with tension. so, to try to lighten the mood, your own body sagging in relief now that you two have somewhat made amends, you drawl out, "yeah, that much was clear."

she snickers, turning fully to you and propping her arm on the door frame. you expect her to give her own retort, but instead, she just... watches you. smirk slowly curling on her face, eyes crinkling in amusement, she simply stares at you.

after a few moments of feeling like the side of your head is burning from her razor-sharp gaze, you say, "what?"

the corner of her mouth quirks up further. "for someone who says it was obvious, that was a pretty big grin you had on your face just now."

you huff indignantly, ducking you head down to the noodles in order to avoid getting caught in your flustered state. "well, I'm just grinning because my noodles are almost done."

she peers at the time flashing over the stove before shaking her head and grimacing at the pot. "why are you even eating this crap at 2:00AM? we have actual food in the fridge."

"I was craving this," you defend with a squeak, shooting her what you pray is a convincing glare despite your heart racing from her earlier words. "besides, I didn't know if your family would be having the leftovers."

"don't be stupid," she chides gruffly. after a pause, she adds, "you know you're family."

this time, you can't resist the beam that overtakes your face, eyes squeezing in delight as your cheeks throb pleasantly from the joy embracing you. you've, of course, heard this sentiment from your best friend plenty of times before, but never from sevika.

"thanks," you murmur feebly, sending her a small, bash smile.

she simply nods in return, her lips pressing together as she continues observing you.

part of you basks under it. the attention of her focused grey eyes, the heavy weight of her gaze -- it all sends a thrill to you that's hot and burning, making you feel you're being revived from a lifelong slumber. how did you ever manage without the life-altering feeling which is sevika's gaze directed to you?

"so, I guess I should head up," she says, sticking a thumb behind her.

your body immediately tenses in protest. she can't leave -- not like this, not after this tender moment you two just shared. not when her presence here holds the contrast of warm assurance and ice-cold surprise that you're always craving.

a loud "no!" bursts from your lip as she's just about to turn.

when she sends you an inquisitive stare, forehead wrinkled in confusion, you feel your face heat up in embarrassment over your over-eagerness. but, it's too late to scale back, so you force yourself to proceed with, "I just-- why don't we hang out a bit? maybe watch gilmore girls. and, I don't know, share the noodles and, well, left overs."

her eyes widen, lips parting in surprise, and it almost makes you want to cackle. how could she even be surprised you want to spend time with her? are you just that good at hiding your want for her, or is she that romantically dense?

"um, yeah, okay," she says, a hand curving up along the back of her neck. "but, don't think I'll eat that crap you're making."

your shoulders ease at the joke, laughing as you wag your wooden spoon at her. "it's good, okay? I don't know why you'd deprive yourself of it."

"if I didn't deprive myself, I wouldn't have these." she flexes her bicep, and you try not to let your gaze roam over the toned muscle bulging out. no need to satisfy her that much. "and wouldn't that be a pity for you?"

you bristle, but still find yourself unable to quell the laughter that bubbles up your throat. "fuck off. my life isn't so sad that your muscles are my sanctuary."

"fair point -- maybe 'religion' is a better term."

ugh, her grin is infuriatingly coy as she heads back to the fridge, pulling out a tupperware, her veins bulging out as she grips it.

you want to fuck her so bad. and then, yell at her. and then, fuck her again.

"just, shut up and heat up the leftovers," you grumble, turning your back to her as her laugh, hearty and scratchy in all the right ways, flows from her lips.

honestly, the lack of eye contact is for both of your guys' benefit. god knows how you'll react if you see that cute gap again.

best friend's older sister!sevika who, after you two start dating, places her long fingers on your thigh when you join her family for dinner. she knows it's a bit evil of her, but she can't help it. your body is just so reactive -- a fact that she was delighted to learn upon your first time sleeping together. it just makes it so much fun to toy with you like this.

your leg immediately flinches when her fingernails skim along your skin, and she'd probably smile if she wasn't so well-trained in public play to know exactly how to keep a straight face.

but, you? she knows you're struggling. she can feel it in the way you shift in your seat, shoulders rolling as her warm palm flattens against your skin, her fingers sinking into the plush of your thigh. or how your body suddenly lurches forward when she suddenly pinches her nails into the skin, causing everyone at the table to dart concerned glances your way.

you sheepishly laugh it off, shaking your head and saying, "sorry, I, um-- I just got a weird shiver."

sevika honestly feels impressed that you're able to keep your cool this well, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow. she knows it probably goes against the whole supportive girlfriend thing, but seeing you manage to remain calm only makes her want to test you even more.

and so, she inches her fingers up so that they smooth along the tender skin of your inner thigh. you immediately stiffen up, your back straightening to an almost comedic right angle. sevika's mouth twists, trying to hold in a chuckle at how you writhe when her blunt nails begin to trace shapes into the hot patch of skin. god, she wants to dip her fingers in further, feel the tight heat of your pussy wrap around her digit as she pumps it in and out of you.

she clears her own throat to cut off her breaths from getting too shallow. god, she needs a cold shower or some shit. plus, the entire point was to get you hot and bothered, not her.

trying to gather her bearings, she presses her fingers into the sensitive area, slightly digging in the curves of her nails, trying to replicate she sharp sting you feel when she sinks her teeth into that spot before eating you out.

it seems se's successful, based on the way your legs shift again, pressing together and trapping her hand there. and your cute face is noticeably distracted, expression glazed over, lips hanging open.

when your fingers curl around her wrist, keeping her hand there, she smirks behind the rim of her glass, taking a careful sip before wrenching her hand free from your grip, continuing with her meal.

through the animated conversation her sister and old man are having, she can hear you grunt in frustration.

but, she doesn't even turn to you. after all, what would be the fun if she just gave you what you wanted?

best friend's older sister!sevika who shakes you from your deep sleep when you're curled up on the mattress in her living room, your best friend fast asleep on the couch. before you can mumble incoherently, your eyes barely making out her broad frame through the sleep-tinged blur, she presses a finger to your mouth, quietly shushing you.

you nod, your heavy eyes blinking rapidly to register what's going on. but, you can barely get a whisper in before sevika scoops you up, her strong arms easily carrying you up the stairs to her bedroom. you have to bite back a gasp at the sudden manhandling, though a spike of arousal zips through you from how easily she takes you to her bedroom, dropping you unceremoniously onto her navy blankets.

you frown at her, eyes sharpened into a glare. "sevika, wha--"

she plants her lips on you, crawling on top of you and pinning your body to the bed with hers. she's sloppy and ungraceful with it, shoving her tongue into your mouth and swirling it around yours as a hand slides up to loosely grip your throat.

"you didn't think I'd leave you hanging, did you?" she mumbles against your lips, her hand drifting down your body to start fiddling with the waistband of your pajama shorts.

"well, you already did once, so I wouldn't be surprised if it happened again," you murmur against her prodding mouth, trying to keep your voice dignified in light of all the pants and whines beginning to crawl up your throat.

"awe, c'mon, baby," she snickers, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your cheek while the rest of you practically combusts from the low, scolding tone she takes when calling you that. "even I have my limits."

and, oh, how fucking good it feels for sevika's limits to be broken, you think as she pounds into you with her dark purple strap-on, her hand over your mouth as she pumps her hips steadily, hissing whenever her bed frame bumps too loudly against the wall.

you wrap your legs around her, nails raking up her back as the toy plunges into you over and over again, stretching your walls taut. it feels good, so good, the dull ache of her nearly-too-big dildo making your entire pussy throb in a way that makes you feel impossibly full.

"listen to that," she whispers against your ear, the hot moist of her breath making you break out into shivers. "your pussy is soaking my new sheets. such a mess you're making."

god, you just leak even more from those words, the mix of your juices and the lube creating deliciously loud squelching noises in her room, only growing more pointed and firm when she begins to drill particularly hard, intentional thrusts into you. the movements have the bulb her of dick pushing against your g-spot with every rock of her body, and it sends a warm tingle through you, wrapping your nerves in pleasure and sparking them to life.

you whine against her hand, eyes rolling back when her cold, mechanical finger begins to flick along your clit. the cool, steel-hard texture of it against your swollen little nub has your body arching up, each brush and flick feeling so heightened through all the other sensations running through you.

"yeah," she chuckles darkly, grazing her teeth along your earlobe. "you like that, don't you? getting this pussy slutted out, having me fucking up your guts and making room for my babies?"

your hips jolt up at those words, a loud whine erupting from your mouth before you can stop it. sevika hisses at it, pressing her mouth to yours, her thighs smacking against yours as she continues drilling you into her mattress.

"be quiet," she rasps, her breaths shattering into uneven little pants. "you want everyone in this house to know what a slut you are? you want everyone to know you couldn't last a night in here without getting dicked down by your best friend's sister?"

you can barely respond, your entire body set aflame with the pleasure of her on top of you, surrounding you with nothing but warm skin, hard muscle and filthy, nasty little noises.

"ah," you moan quietly against her mouth, fingers tracing the indents your nails have left in her back. "feels s'good, I just-- I can't--"

"I know, baby, I know," she grunts, fingers wrapping around your jaw and shaking your face like you're her personal doll. "no need to worry your pretty head with talking, yeah? just be good and let me cream this pussy."

and so, you do. over and over and over again.

best friend's older sister!sevika who tries not to smirk too hard when her sister asks over breakfast why you're wearing a turtleneck in the middle of july.

[pinkhoodi]

boyz in luv !

✎ᝰ — dc boys as romance tropes

♡⃕ — bruce wayne, dick grayson, jason todd, wally west, kaldur’ahm x reader

♡⃕ — genre + warnings: fluff & jason is slight ooc cause I didn’t feel like writing moody child jason sawry

♡⃕ — a/n: woooo mia writes once again. yall peepin my consistency ?

꒰ BRUCE WAYNE ꒱

Ꮺ second chance ! — bruce is a man who excels in many things and one can say he has lived different lives, depending on who you’re asking. one thing he wished to excel in is romance, he has tried time and time again to be the perfect lover for someone yet that energy was never reciprocated back, unless for a hookup. not only that, his heart was never much into it when it came to all his previous lovers and he could never understand why. was something wrong with him? however, when it came to you, he felt that he gave his all, he felt himself pour more into you than he usually would with others. thus, the two of you ending things led to bruce feeling so much heartache to the point where he couldn’t handle it any longer. he needed to find a solution, a medication, something, anything to ease this pain in his chest. to think, the bruce wayne, aka batman, could feel emotional pain, who would’ve thought?

that pain led to longing, aching times of writing you letters, stopping by your job to see how you’re doing, looking through photographic memories, begging at your front door at one random night to ask what can he do to be back with you? he can no longer live a life without you and he genuinely doesn’t know how much more of this he can take.

꒰ DICK GRAYSON ꒱

Ꮺ you fell first, he fell harder — to grayson, you were of quite importance. you two grew up in the same neighborhood until his parents was killed, you two attended the same school, and you two were always at each other’s side. if people were to find dick, they could find you next to him or somewhere near him. as years pass, and your friendship becomes deeper, dick finds himself growing feelings. as a young man, he couldn’t shake off these feelings that sprouted when you were around him. actually, neither of you could.

feelings always arose inside both of you when you two were in contact with one another, whether it be on the phone or him taking you out to a nice dinner. when you spoke, he could find himself dazed as he laid his eyes all over your beautiful features. when you lay your hand anywhere on him, as simple as the touch would be, the hairs on his body stick up, and finds himself getting hot as the touch lays on there.

the same would happen with you except the effects of his touch or his presence wouldn’t be as down bad as dick is with you. the potential crush that grew inside the both of you had made the simplest conversation become a rousing feeling to your beating hearts. except dick feels like his heart is close to exploding when he’s near you.

꒰ JASON TODD ꒱

Ꮺ childhood friends to frenemies to lovers — jason was sweet, jason was loving, jason was determined to be the brave boy just like his father. he was everything you dreamed and wanted from in a boy, since grade school you dreamed of jason todd being your dream boy. maybe it’s the crush, maybe it’s the crazy promise to each other that you’ll live together by the age of thirty if neither of you gets married. you don’t know what it is but it gave you the idea that you and jason will be stuck like glue till death do you part. a great idea for two grade schoolers but not for someone like you who was startled by jason’s behavior after being “missing” all these years.

either way, he was not the jason you’ve known and grown up with. this jason was coldhearted, brute, and didn’t have much care to be in your life, unlike younger jason. he came off with a cold shoulder and you came to the point that your friendship has gone away from his memories, you didn’t matter to him as much he mattered to you. at least, that’s what he wanted you to think.

throughout you dealing with and not wanting to accept this new jason, he was fighting with himself on whether he should make the best of your burned-out friendship to keep you from all danger or be selfish and keep your love with him, no matter the consequence you may both have to face. protect y/n and live with long-term yearning or protect your own heart and live in bliss with y/n? choose wisely jason, choose wisely.

꒰ WALLY WEST ꒱

Ꮺ unrequited love — the young man with so much to love but sometimes oh so clueless. he was intelligent and knew how to act in certain situations, making him quick-minded. however, he hasn't caught on when it came to catching hints of you flirting with him. which is strange for a man who likes to flirt with almost every woman in sight. then again, it’s the same for you when he tries to flirt with you and you just think of it as casual flirting. you don’t think anything of it since wally is a flirt, you usually just play on till you can’t anymore.

even when people assumed that you and wally have something going on, you would laugh it off and deny it. even if it does sting a bit to fake it and say that you and wally are friends, while you internally want something more. it’s not better on wally’s side either; his usual cheery and chill attitude dampers just slightly when he hears you say that the two of you are friends.

the situation of unrecognized unrequited love has both of you two’s hearts aching for one another. You don’t how long you can last by being “just friends” with wally and wally doesn’t know how long he’ll last by pretending that this crush isn’t eating him alive. as for now, friends till one confesses.

꒰ KALDUR’AHM ꒱

Ꮺ everyone sees it but them — oh kaldur, the handsome blonde man with facial features that’ll make the angels sing and a personality that could make anyone want to marry him. he’s extremely kind, soft-hearted, caring, has great leadership skills, and has everything that just screams he needs to be in your life. well, he is, as your friend, a close friend.

you two grew up together training in the young justice league and became close after one mission that almost cost you your life. he was there, by your side taking care of you and keeping watch until you completely healed. ever since then, you two has been stuck to the hip, unintentionally, and neither of you seems to mind. even when your teammates make lil comments, “look at the lovely couple” “aww when’s the wedding?” “there goes couple of the year”. you usually roll your eyes at the comments and go about your day with kaldur.

however, maybe the comments meant something; seeing as the way kaldur’s smile grows when you’re explaining something, your laughter that brings a sort of bliss to your ears. it also doesn’t help that konnor and wally notices the way kaldur lets his hand linger on yours until they’re intertwined, or the way your cheeks are so prominent when kaldur is around, and the loving expression that is present. your cheeks rise, a smile displayed, and your eyes tie it all into your facial expression potentially screaming, “I’m in love.”

but of course, the signals that everyone around notices, you two seem oblivious to notice. even when they try to point it out to either of you, you just use the excuse, “so, we’re friends. do friends not do that?” friends…right right, of course, friends!

♡⃕ technically, i had something similar for these hcs from the song “another life” by sza. but they didn’t come out how i wanted so we’re just gonna stick with these !

♡⃕ okay but the way I’ve been actually feeding yall likeeee 🤭

𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐏 💗: isaiah 41:13

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟧 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗂. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[shy-writer-999]

1-800-LONELYCHEF . ₊ ⊹ .

Summary: The same man calls you every Friday at 11:30PM. It seems like he has nothing better to do. After months of the same routine, you've started to take a liking to him, which is a problem, considering that he's your client... and you work at a phone sex hot line. WC: ~7k. CW: NSFW content! ANGSTY! Afab reader w/gendered language (she/her pronouns). Masturbation, oral sex. MDNI plz!

“Hello?”

You’re very familiar with the caller on the other end of the line. He calls you once a week—every Friday, after his shift at the bougie restaurant he works at, 11:30PM on the dot.

He must be very attractive, or at least that’s what you’ve garnered over talking to him for many months.

At first, he was evidently too shy to make use of your more… explicit services. This is a phone sex hotline, after all.

He honestly sounded like he just needed someone to vent to. So, you listened, as was your job. After the first few months, you both got more accustomed to one another. His shyness melted away. He got friendlier.

It’s been six or seven months since he first called. You’ve become very fond of him, but you have no idea what he looks like. So, one day, you decide to ask.

“Your voice is so sexy,” you start, giving him a line that you gave everyone, except this time you mean it. “I can’t help but wonder what you look like, Sanji.”

With other callers, you’d have to check what their name is before you say it. But you’re far past that point with him, and every time you say his name it makes his heart flutter.

“Well,” he says. “I’m blonde. And my eyebrows have a little… curl to them. I’m a decent height and I have a bit of a goatee.”

“And what color are your eyes?” You ask, trying to get the full picture.

He notes that question. It’s a thoughtful one. You’re thoughtful, in general. He knows that you are just being nice to him because, well, it’s your job, but also… he can’t shake the feeling that you have a soft spot for him. Do you talk to everyone like this?

“My eyes? Hmm. It depends on who you ask. I don’t know, really. Some people say they’re black, other people say grey, I’ve had a few tell me they’re blue. I’m not sure.”

You hum in response. There’s a beat of silence.

“What sort of eyes do you like?” He asks. He’s cheeky like that. You have the feeling that he has a real soft spot for you, too. Why else would he call you every week? There are plenty of others he could call. But he just sticks with you every time.

You respond. “It depends on who you ask. But historically I have liked guys with black, grey, or blue eyes. Do you happen to know anyone who fits the bill?”

He can tell that you’re smiling. He finds himself blushing, getting giddy for a few moments before he realizes that oh, right, you are at work, and oh, right, he is paying you to talk to him, like the loser he is.

His voice falters a bit the next time he speaks, a couple of seconds later. You know the exact thought that just went through his head. It’s something you are well aware of but… it does make you a bit sad with him. You like him far too much for your own good.

You wonder if you would like the look of him in real life, painfully single as you are. You wonder if he would like the look of you.

You might have a teeny tiny crush on this guy you’ve never met. Teeny tiny is a massive understatement. Just because he’s so consistent—you’ve never met a man as consistent as him—and so kind, and such a gentleman, even on the phone.

But tonight, the call ends earlier than usual. It seems that your open flirtation was a bit too genuine for him. Hit a bit too close to home. He finishes the conversation and dodges your attempt to take it farther.

“Thank you as always, beautiful. It’s a pleasure to talk to you. See you next week.” The phone hangs up abruptly. He’s gone now.

He always calls you beautiful, like everyone else does, but… it just means something coming from him. Maybe because he’s the only caller who has ever wanted to truly know something about you. And every time he hangs up, he says ‘see you next week,’ even though you never see each other. It’s cute.

You find yourself wishing he was still on the line. You’re a bit bummed that he hung up this early, not because you’re going to be left wanting for money (he always overpays), but because you always look forward to talking to him.

When you take the next caller, you’re quickly reminded that Sanji is by far the youngest and kindest of anyone who has ever called you.

---

“Hello?”

He’s on the line again. It’s Friday again, 11:30PM sharp.

You respond, tone warmer than it needs to be, given that you’re speaking to a client. “Hi.”

You’re glad to talk to him. Very realistically, this is the only interesting thing you have to look forward to—it’s not like you can afford to go out and party on the weekends. Or any day, for that matter. He’s your Friday night date every week. That doesn’t escape him.

“How was your week?” He asks, like he always does. He’s the only client who has ever asked you that.

You respond as frankly as you can without overstepping. “Hmmm. It was alright. Pretty boring, in general. It could have been better. How was your week?”

He pauses for a moment. “It was pretty good.”

“Tell me about it.” You prompt, and he begins detailing his week for you, as is your routine.

The things you know about this man’s life are random and vast, among them, you know that he lives in the city next to yours, he eats oats every morning for breakfast, and that he chain smokes as often as he can get away with (which is almost 24/7). You’ve been privy to him trying to cut back on his nicotine intake more than a few times, and he has never forgotten that you cheer him on every time he tries.

Among other things, this week he had to go to work on his usual day off (Wednesday) because the sous-chef called out (again). You can hear him roll his eyes when he says that. You roll them too, even though he can’t see.

He vents about that, and you hear him out.

“The sous-chef sounds like a real asshole,” you say. “Always has. Didn’t he call out a couple weeks ago?”

He laughs out loud at your honesty. “I fucking know, right? And yes, he did. It’s ridiculous.” Then his heart skips a beat. You really do pay attention to what he says.

“They don’t appreciate you as much as they should, Sanji. I bet I could talk some sense into them.” You say, and you both chuckle for a moment.

“What else happened this week?” You follow up, genuinely wanting to know. This man fascinates you. With how charming and sweet he is, it’s a wonder to you that he’s single. Also, the life he lives is quaint. He is a man of routine, a hard worker, and he’s driven. He has a strong and warm personality.

When he replies to your question, you can’t quite make out the tone of his voice—is that reluctance? Hesitation? Shyness? Or awkwardness? It’s hard to tell.

He responds to your question. “Well… I went on a date last night.”

Before you can wonder why, your heart starts to sink. Fuck. You really do have a crush on this guy, don’t you?

You regrettably (internally) acknowledge your disappointment. You do have a massive crush on this guy. And he’s your client. So, get a grip.

Your acting skills have to be excellent for this job. You make good use of them now. “Oh, a date?” You emanate the pinnacle of excitement for him. “How was it?”

This has happened maybe half a dozen times before. The dates always go well but the follow through rate is bad. Obviously. Or else he wouldn’t be here. But every time it has happened, your heart always sinks. Not a fun feeling.

“It went really, really well.” Sanji’s voice is happy. “Might have been the best date I’ve ever been on.” You know he’s smiling right now. Positively beaming. Your heart breaks a bit before you reprimand yourself. You have no right to like this man the way that you do.

He probably wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot-pole if he met you in real life (you tell yourself this, and you know it is a lie, but you try to say it to make yourself get a grip… needless to say, this strategy doesn’t work.)

“How was she?” You ask because you know he wants to talk about it.

“She was thoughtful, kind, and considerate. Very sweet. Kind of like you, actually.” He says, not realizing how much those words make your smile fall. “One of the cooks set us up. Like a blind date. I had no idea what to expect but she was gorgeous. Wow. So funny, too.”

His voice trails off. It’s your turn to talk.

“Awh, Sanji, I’m so glad. You deserve some attention.” Your voice is sugar coated like usual and his heart patters.

The conversation wanders into various topics. The woman he went on a date with is a veterinarian. That sours your mood. She must be real swell. Caring for sick animals and all that stuff. Ugh. The whole topic is forcing you to accept the fact that you like this guy wayyyy more than you should. You have no business having this intense of a crush on him, having this intense of a crush on a man who is, ostensibly, and for all intents and purposes, using you as his rent-a-girlfriend.

The pair of you then talk about relationships—has he ever been in one? (Yes, ages ago.) What is his love language? (Physical touch and acts of service.) What’s his type? (Essentially, you.) You ask him questions and he asks you them back. It’s a nice conversation, an intimate one, one that would have you feeling better if not for the fact that he just happened to have an amazing date.

After a while, the conversation dwindles. You know that he’s in the mood to do what this whole thing is really about—phone sex. When Sanji is in a really good mood or a really bad mood, he takes advantage of your expertise in this area. Tonight is the former.

“Is there anything else on your mind, handsome?” You ask, gauging what he’s up to tonight.

“Mmmm, there is. What are you wearing, gorgeous?”

You smile. He’s cute. Usually, you lie when men ask you this question. But with Sanji you tend to be a bit more truthful. Maybe it’s the fact that you feel like he’s going to get taken off the market soon and never call you again one day, or maybe it’s something else, but you’re getting the urge to be more candid and flirtier with him than you’ve ever been before. Real flirty, not work flirty. You’re getting the urge to step out of whatever character you put on when you pick up the phone.

“Do you want the regular client answer, or the Sanji answer?” You say, bold and not giving a fuck. Why not? He can have the real answer, hell, he can have some realness because you’ve talked for so long, and because you like him so much. Like you said, he deserves some attention.

“Oh. How about both?” He’s tickled and intrigued. “I’m flattered that I have my own option.”

“You always do. Well, the regular client answer would be that I’m wearing a babydoll slip dress made of black mesh… with a black lace thong and thigh-high black stockings. Do you like that?” Your voice starts to transform; it starts to drip pure lust, candied in honey and flattery. It’s a well-trained skill. Sanji gets hard almost immediately, tenting his pants and widening his thighs.

“I like it very much.” His voice is getting huskier, thicker. You love it when he sounds like that. His voice really is sexy. He continues. “Now, tell me the Sanji answer.”

“It isn’t nearly as glamorous. Do you still want to know?”

He nods, but it’s not like you can see him. “Of course.”

“I’m wearing a black tank top and blue plaid sweatpants. No bra, but I actually am wearing a black lace thong.” You laugh. “Very sexy, right?”

His voice comes out raspier this time. “It is, though. I much prefer the Sanji answer.”

“You’re sweet.” You say, and he can tell you mean it. “Now, what are you wearing?”

Sanji blushes and his erection strains against the fabric of his boxers. “Do you want the regular client answer, or the You answer?”

You laugh again. “How about both?”

“Well,” he continues. “The regular client answer is that I’m in black slacks and a white button down. A few buttons are undone and my sleeves are rolled up to my forearms. I’m wearing black loafers and black socks. Now, the You answer isn’t nearly as glamorous. Do you still want to know?”

“Mhm.”

“I don’t have a shirt on and I am coincidentally wearing blue plaid sweatpants as well. Can you believe that?”

“No way. Really?”

“Yep.”

“Anything underneath?” Your voice is coy and his erection pulses.

“Yep. I have boxers on. Boring black ones.”

“And what’s going on underneath of those?”

He dryly chuckles and reaches down to rub his hard on for a second. “A lot.”

“Just what I wanted to hear.” You practically purr and he runs his palm over his bulge in response.

He lets out a soft groan that make you feel some sort of way. “Oh yeah? Y’know, even though I don’t really know what you look like, I just know that you’re looking sexy in your pajama outfit right now.”

Your witty reply is stopped short. He’s the only one who is this real with you. Most of the men on the other line tend to be creepy, old, and just downright weird. This is a dying profession, after all. Sometimes the other clients are rude and dismissive, too. But Sanji… you know he really means what he says.

“You’re adorable, Sanji,” you say. “I’d venture a guess that you look pretty good right now, too.”

“Mmmm.” He hums, heartbeat rising as he continues to palm himself. “I wish I could see you right now.”

You can’t tell if this is part of the fantasy. You really did wish you could see him, though.

“What would you do to me…” your voice is smooth as silk. “If I peeled off my tanktop and shimmied out of my sweatpants?”

Sanji’s breath hitches. Something feels realer than usual about this—knowing what you’re wearing right now, what you’re really wearing, is turning him on beyond belief (assuming that you’re telling the truth, but he always chooses to believe that you are).

“If I was there, I’d kiss you, actually.”

His answer catches you off guard. You’re not sure he’s said something like this before.

There is silence for a second. You don’t know how to respond, really. You decide to just respond honestly, without appearances. Fuck it. He’d probably be off the market soon if his amazing date was anything to tell for it, so might as well.

“Wow, that’s really sweet. I’m not sure anyone has said something that nice to me in years.”

He tuts. “That’s my lowest bar of sweetness. I can go much sweeter than that, my love.”

He’s never called you that before, either. You’re starting to forget that this is a work call. It feels distinctly different than one.

“I’d like to see how sweet you can get, Sanji.”

His cock twitches again. Fuck. You really have a way with words. You get him more riled up than anyone he’s ever met before.

You continue. “After you kiss me, what would you do to me?”

“I would kiss every inch of you.”

Your heart melts. Fuck. Is this guy a saint? Where does he get off being so suave?

“Mmmm. That sounds nice. I’d like to return the favor.” Your tone, to Sanji, is effortlessly erotic. The thought of you kissing every inch of him—yes, even those inches—has him grinding the palm of his hand over his cock.

“Sounds even better. Then, if you let me, I’d go down on you.” The blonde is starting to get worked up. You can tell from his voice—when it gets all husky like this, you know he’s about to start touching himself, if he isn’t already.

Also, the fact that he said ‘if you let me’ really struck you. No one had ever said that before in your line of work. He has the tendency to say things you’ve never heard before, and he always surprises you.

“Of course I’d let you go down on me,” your voice gets softer. “What exactly would you do?” You wonder if he’d be any good. Maybe his answer will be elucidative.

“I’d start by kissing up your thighs, one at a time. Then I’d very slowly, very gently kiss your clit. Hopefully it would feel good. After a while, I think I’d be able to tell if you liked it. I’d run my tongue downwards and taste you. And tease you as much as you’re willing to put up with.”

“Mmmm. I think I could put up with a lot.” You let out a breathy sigh. You’re starting to warm up between the legs. With that voice, and those words, and that mental image… it sounds divine. You’re about to let yourself get carried away. It’s tempting.

“Is that so?” Sanji decides to keep going with the fantasy as long as you’d let him. Frequently, this happens the other way around. You usually describe to him, in great detail, what you would do to him. Apparently tonight it would be the other way around.

“In that case,” Sanji continues, “I’d take my time with you. I’d push my tongue inside of you delicately at first, then harder, and switch between that licking your clit.”

You can feel that you’re getting wet. It has only ever been with Sanji that you’ve actually gotten aroused while talking to a client. Usually, you’re as dry as the Sahara when talking to clients. But this man does things to you. Sinful things.

“What else?” You ask, biting your lip and sneaking your hand lower. You decide that, just this once, it’s okay to get carried away.

He can hear it in your voice. The synthetic, sugary (but still very much erotic) tone is dissipating and he’s hearing, for the first time, your voice bathed in genuine arousal. Your breaths are quicker than usual, your tone is less composed, and he can tell that you’re hanging onto his every word.

At the same time that his hand goes under the waistband of his boxers, yours goes under your underwear. He starts to stroke himself, relishing the first ripples of pleasure from his hand, and you do something similar. Each movement of your fingers is accompanied by his voice, by some filthy image he puts in your head.

“When you’re moaning loud enough, I’d press my middle finger into you slowly, to make sure you’re comfortable. After a moment, I’d move my finger and caress you inside a bit, and if it seemed like you liked it, I would press my ring finger into you.”

You start to mimic what Sanji is describing. It feels dangerously good. A barely audible sort of gasping sound falls out of your lips and Sanji hears it. His fist goes faster. He hasn’t ever heard you make that sort of noise before—he’s heard fake moans, sure, they were still hot (and he always told himself they were real). Anything you did was hot. But this sort of noise was the sort that could only be caused by one thing—pleasure.

Sanji’s fist goes a bit faster when he concludes that you may be touching yourself. The idea makes him feel like he’s on fire.

“I’d curl my fingers inside of you and find your g-spot… draw circles around it and press it while I place some kisses on your clit. Would you like that?”

His question catches you off guard—you’re getting lost in the act of fingering yourself.

“Mmmm. I would like that, Sanji.”

“How would I know that you liked it?”

“I’d, fuck,” another soft moan slips out of your lips and Sanji squeezes his cock tighter. “I’d run my fingers through your hair and pull you closer. Buck my hips into your tongue so you, ah, get deeper.”

“What would you say?” His voice is low now, and you can hear a faint sound in the background. He’s fisting his cock to your conversation, which is nothing new, but it brings you more of a rush than usual right now because you’re touching yourself too. “What would you say if you liked how I ate you out?”

“Don’t stop,” you shudder, and it sounds like it would if he was actually eating you out. The noise makes his heart flip. He can hear wet sounds from your end of the phone, too. He can hardly believe his ears, but sure enough, he can make out the noises of you bringing your fingers in and out of yourself.

“I wouldn’t,” Sanji says and then groans. The obscene noise goes straight to your aching core. You’re going to orgasm soon. “I wouldn’t stop until you came all over my face and I licked you clean.”

“Fuck,” you mewl. “That sounds, ah, sounds like it would feel good, Sanji.”

“Does it feel good?” He counters, twisting his hand over the head of his cock. His fist brings down the precum that has been beading at his tip, and the sensation makes his hips rock up inadvertently.

“Mmmmphhh, I—yes, it feels good, Sanji. Feels so good.”

You curl your fingers inside, searching for the spot that Sanji mentioned before. You press on it as you speak. You know he’s going to love the noise you make.

He grunts and throws his head back. He’s going to cum soon. He’s going to cum if you say his name some more. He wants it. “Say that again.”

“Fucckkk, Sanji. Feels so good.”

“I love hearing you say my name. I’m—hah—‘m gonna cum if you do it again.”

“Sanji. Sanji. Sanji, fuck, Saannnjjjiii.” On repeat, you moan his name through your orgasm, which you finally allow to wash over you. He can hear it in your voice, can hear you trying to force his name out of your mouth between keens.

Your voice has never sounded so good. He’s sure now, sure sure, that you’ve been touching yourself this whole time and that you just came. It’s a first for him. He’s suspected your arousal at other times, but this time, it’s a confirmed fact. In an instant, the fantasy fades and he can see the moment for what it is—you’ve thrown away the pretenses, acting skills, and flattery, and, for a handful of minutes, you’ve been 100% yourself with him, more so than ever before.

That’s what makes him cum. Your unreserved sincerity and desire. It’s the hardest he’s cum in a long time—and that’s a high bar, considering the fact that any time he broaches these activities with you he cums hard.

When you’re both panting in the euphoric aftershocks of your orgasms, Sanji whistles. “Damn.”

You hum in agreement. “Wow.”

He cracks a joke. “So, am I supposed to send you an invoice after this one?”

He’s hilarious in general, and this one makes you laugh. “I might allow it.” Your tone is uncharacteristically bashful. You’re about to say something you’ll later regret. “I think you’re the only person who has ever gotten me off over the phone.”

Sanji is taken aback for a second. “Really? I’m honored. And surprised.”

You almost instantly regret oversharing, chuckling awkwardly before you realize that this is a work call, and you should act accordingly. But it’s hard to pull yourself out of the intimacy of this moment and you don’t want to. So… against your better judgment, you don’t.

“I’m impressed, Sanji. Maybe we should do this more often,” you say, and Sanji’s heart thumps again. “You don’t have to only call me once a week, you know.”

“As long as you won’t get sick of me, I would love to. And we can do this again any time, gorgeous. It’s seriously my pleasure. You don’t know what you do to me, it’s only fair that I return the favor.”

While he’s saying the last part, Sanji realizes that this isn’t a favor, really. He tries to brush off that sad feeling for a moment but finds himself wondering what you really think of him.

It’s time for him to go to sleep, he concludes. He’s exhausted after a long shift and a hard orgasm.

“So, same time next week?” His voice is chipper.

“Mhm. I look forward to it, Sanji. See you later.” When the words leave your mouth, you wonder if he feels butterflies, too.

“See you later, sweetheart.”

Sanji hangs up the phone.

In your respective bedrooms, you’re both wondering what the fuck just happened. This call was full of lots of firsts and, little do you two know, the other feels elated.

But Sanji thinks about it more. He weighs his feelings for you against the practical understanding that he is, presumably, nothing more than a client to you. His heart aches at the thought.

And then he looks at his phone. The person who he went on a date with texted him while he was on the phone with you—she’s asking for another date. She says she looks forward to seeing him.

---

A week passes.

It’s Friday again.

11:30PM comes and goes. No call from Sanji.

In a span of over six months, this is the first time he hasn’t called you.

As you sit and wait for him, passing off other phone calls in case he decides he wants to speak to you tonight, your heart starts to sink.

Was last time a mistake?

Ten minutes go by.

Twenty minutes go by.

Many minutes go by. The time is now 12:30AM.

You’re left to conclude that last time was, indeed, a mistake.

You decide to take the night off. Your tears are making it hard to get any work done. You can’t put on that sultry voice and moan at old men in your current state.

There’s no denying it—his absence hurts you. Bad. Especially after last week. Especially after you admitted to him that you had never orgasmed over the phone before, and that you wanted to talk to him more often.

Why hadn’t he called you?

You wrack your brain for possibilities, but one major thing stands out. That date he went on. Maybe he went on another one and decided he liked them better.

Liked them better? You ask yourself after realizing what you just thought. He’s paying you to talk to him on the phone. Get over it. He isn’t going to keep calling you forever. What did you expect after last week? That he would just confess his love, offer to pay all of your bills, and that would be it?

You frown harder, hurting yourself deeper with your own rhetoric. The tears won’t stop.

It’s excruciating to realize that you like Sanji this much. You really like him. You know almost everything there is to know about him, too. And as much as you generally try to avoid giving out personal information, he knows a large chunk about you. Maybe that’s why it hurts so bad.

No, you tell yourself. Don’t kid yourself. You know it hurts this bad because you were hoping he liked you for real. You were hoping that this man, who you had never truly met before, who you had never seen, would, against all odds, decide that he wants you, even if he hadn’t seen you.

Fat chance, you tell yourself. Never do that with a client again, and this will never be a problem again.

---

Sanji does not call you back the next week.

Or the next week.

Or the week after that.

Or the month after that.

You are over it by the time the second month rolls around.

It’s pretty good timing, on your behalf. You think you’re really over this huge crush on a man you’ve never seen before. By the fifth month, you’re still telling yourself that you’re over this “crush”.

But that’s a delusion—any time you’re in public and there’s a blonde man, you find yourself scanning his face. Does he have a goatee? Could those eyebrows be considered curly? What color are those eyes?

When you see one that you think might be him, you always work up the courage to speak to them. But it never is Sanji. You would recognize that voice anywhere.

You wonder what you will say to him if he ever calls you again. Or if you see him in person. You decide that if he ever calls you again, you’ll either curse him out or break into tears.

In your most down-bad-hour, you contemplate showing up at the restaurant he is the chef at. You contemplate asking if you can see the kitchen. You just want a glance at him. A glance will keep your heart quiet.

But the joke’s on you—his restaurant is too expensive for you. Truly. You couldn’t afford a drink there if you tried. Okay, maybe just one. But you refuse to stoop to that level of desperation.

You’re a call away from him. He just has to dial your number.

You, on the other hand, have no way of calling or texting him. The service you work through scrambles client numbers before they’re patched through to you. The only way you know it’s Sanji is when he calls, at 11:30PM on the dot, on Friday nights. That’s Sanji time.

But it seems like Sanji time has come and gone.

You can’t shake the feeling that he did you dirty—but then you remember that he doesn’t owe you anything. This is your line of work. Phone sex. And that’s what you had. You just stepped over a boundary that you usually stay far away from. Whose fault is that?

No amount of logic can shake that feeling, though. You develop a little grudge against this man who you will never meet.

That’s what you tell yourself—that you’ll never meet him. But there’s a nugget of hope inside that, someday, he’ll call you. Someday he’ll kiss you. You try to obliterate that nugget though, as it is antithetical to the remedy to your lovesickness that you’re seeking.

Which will come first, him calling you, or you quitting this job that you’ve been meaning to quit for months at this point?

You hate to admit this to yourself, but he’s the only thing that was keeping the thoughts of quitting at bay. Maybe you really will quit this time around.

---

It is a Saturday night and you’re working again. It’s an unfortunately slow night, which sucks, because you really could use the money.

You’re scrolling on your phone, waiting for the next call to come in. It has been three hours with no calls. Guess all the creepy old men have plans tonight, which is such a shame because you need to pay rent soon. Sigh.

Time passes. You check the clock. It’s almost 11:30PM. The time doesn’t remind you of him anymore (well, much).

Maybe if you channel some of your good karma, ask the universe to cut a check of it right now, someone will call you for one long, lengthy conversation. You can help get them off as many times as they want. Five times in a row. You’ll break that record and go for six times if they just pay you. No questions asked.

Sure enough, a call comes through. You check the clock again. It’s been moving at a snail’s pace tonight. It’s 11:35PM. Hopefully whoever this is feels like talking.

“Hello?”

Your heart stops.

It sounds like Sanji for a second. But there’s no way. It’s been five fucking months.

“Hi.” You respond in your sugared up, sultry voice.

“It’s been a long time, gorgeous.”

It is Sanji.

Your heart flutters and your stomach flips. You’re speechless.

Don’t forget your game plans: curse him out or cry. But you can’t bring yourself to do either now that he’s waiting on the other line. You’re about to hang up the phone. You owe this man nothing and he owes you nothing—it’s that simple.

As you go to press the end call button, he speaks again.

“I’m sorry.”

The tears start now. The dam inside of you breaks. Hot tears pour out of your eyes and down your cheeks.

You didn’t think that hearing his voice would have this strong of an effect on you. But the heartbreak that you once thought faded away is now back in full force.

He’s waiting for a response before he hears shuddering breaths from you as you cry. Your tears are all the confirmation he needs—he knows that he was right months ago when he worked up the courage to confess to you. He should have done it. He knows that he was wrong to take the coward’s way out. And he knows he was wrong to tell himself that you didn’t care about him and wouldn’t care when he disappeared, because he was just a client to you. He was so terribly wrong. The sound of your sobs shatters him.

“I should have called you before. I’m so sorry. And maybe you hate me for waiting this long to call you again. I understand if you do. I just couldn’t keep it inside anymore, I—”

“Where the fuck were you?” You cut him off. Your anger is starting to seep through the tears. Maybe the first game plan can still happen. “I waited for you, Sanji.”

He doesn’t even try to think of a comeback or excuse. He tells you plainly what happened and, even though it breaks your heart some more, it makes sense.

“Well… I finally found someone. Last time, after I hung up, I had another date with that person I mentioned, and it went really well. So, we just kept going on dates. It didn’t feel right to keep calling you when things with her were progressing so quickly. We got together, and—”

“I understand, Sanji. That’s all I wanted to hear. Thanks.”

You slam your finger down on the hang up button. Your heart is broken enough as it is. He can keep all that yapping to himself. Good for nothing heartbreaker.

So what, he was with whoever that was. So what, they love each other and have been together almost half a year at this point. So what, he was just a client the whole time and you had gotten your hopes up for nothing and—your catastrophizing is stopped in its tracks when your phone starts to buzz again. You feel like it’s Sanji.

You pick up the phone. It is.

“Wait, wait, don’t hang up, please let me finish, please.”

“What, so you can tell me how much you love your girlfriend? I get it, Sanji. You paid me to talk to you for so long that of course you got sick of it and finally got what you had been after the whole time, a loving, very real partner. I understand that I’m just a service to be used and discarded later. That’s fine. Goodbye.”

“No. Listen to me.” Sanji’s voice is stern and harsh, a tone you’ve never heard from him before. “We got together and then she very quickly dumped me. Do you know what she kept saying to me? She said I was too absentminded. She thought I was thinking about someone else. Dumped me after two months because I couldn’t give her what she wanted. Absentminded.”

His words hang in the air for a few moments while you try to process why the fuck he’s explaining any of this to you and why it matters. He continues. His voice is emphatic, hurried, and nervous sounding.

“And if I’m being honest, I was absentminded. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I know this sounds fucking ridiculous because we’ve never met, and I understand if you tell me to go fuck off because I’m sure this happens to you all the time, but… I can’t get you out of my head. I’ve tried to for months. Three months. I told myself that I was an idiot for falling for someone out of my league. And the crazy thing is, I don’t even have to see you to know you’re out of my league. The way you act is out of my league. YOU are out of my league. You’re thoughtful, and kind, and considerate, and you pause before you respond whenever you talk because I can tell you’re really thinking over your response. And you’re funny. And witty, and charming, and you never once made me feel weird or less than for calling and finding solace in you. I’ve been lonely for years. I make the first move all the time, but it never works out. And I know I fucked this one up, and I know I didn’t have a chance in hell with you to begin with, but I just, fuck, I had to get this off my chest. I love you. I fell for you the first conversation we had. Now please tell me to fuck off.”

You can tell that every word he is saying is sincere and earnest. You can hear the emotion in his voice. While you wipe your tears dry and mend your heart together, you take deep breaths. He can wait for your response. Like he just said, you’re intentional about your responses to people. Every word matters. Especially with Sanji.

“Do you know how bad it hurt after our last conversation to not hear from you again?” You start.

He winces. He knew that was coming.

“I’m so so sorry. I’m so sorry. It was disrespectful of me, and callous, and if you hang up and never want to speak to me again, I understand and I deserve it.”

“You do deserve it.” You say, regaining some composure. “You really do, Sanji.”

“I’m sorry.” You can hear his frown. It’s a cute one. Fuck. His cute words are playing back in your ears too. So, he loves you?

Should you tell him how you feel? How you’ve felt for a long time?

One part of you is screaming at you to get a grip. But the other part—all the other parts—are finally, finally hearing what you’ve been wanting to hear for around a year at this point. That he likes you for you. That he sees you as you, and not some dolled up object of affection that’s only there to get people off and talk dirty to them. It has never been like that between you.

“If I accept your apology, Sanji, what then?”

“I—I actually didn’t think I would make it this far. But if you accept my apology, my next step is to ask you out to dinner with me. And to ask for your phone number. Your real phone number.”

You let out a long, deep sigh. “Sanji. My love. You could have told me these things months ago. It would have saved both of us so much heartbreak. I was devastated. Do you know that?”

You know that he already profusely apologized but you feel like driving it home a bit more. He deserves it. But while you talk, his hopes start to rise. You’ve never called him ‘my love’ before. Maybe that bodes well?

“I’m so sorry. I really am.” He sounds like he means it. You trust him enough to know that he does. Well, fuck it.

“Don’t think I’ll just forget about this because I’m head over heels for you, okay?”

“You—what?” He’s caught off guard. “You are?”

“Sanji. Yes. And you could have found out ages ago. Now, when are we going to dinner? You can apologize to me again then, too. And even if you don’t like what you see, you have to pay for everything. I’m getting an appetizer, an entrée, a dessert, at least two drinks, and whatever else I want. Okay?”

He laughs in relief. “Yes, okay. Yes. Holy shit, I didn’t think you would say that. I wish I could kiss you.”

“Wait—one last thing. If you decide you don’t like me after our date, Sanji, you have to tell me there on the spot. You can’t leave me waiting for another five months. You just can’t.”

“I promise, I won’t leave you waiting. I promise.”

When you hang up the phone a few minutes later (after more twisting the knife), you’re so thrilled that you can hardly breathe.

You can’t believe this is real life. You also can’t believe how quickly you just forgot your dignity, but you’ll unpack that later.

Dinner is set for tomorrow night. 7:30PM on the dot. Sanji is calling out of work, and he’s taking you to the (second) nicest restaurant in town (his is the first, obviously, and he wants to save that for a night where he can really plan ahead and spoil you).

---

When you get to the restaurant, Sanji is already there, waiting outside with a large bouquet of flowers.

He’s more handsome than you could have imagined. Of course he is. You do have great intuition, and you knew from the start that he was sexy. But… goddamn, he is sexy.

It makes sense now what he meant by curly eyebrows. He’s dressed well, too. He’s wearing black slacks and a white button down. A few buttons are undone, and his sleeves are rolled up to his forearms. He has black loafers and black socks. And he smells good. And he smiles good.

He’s so nervous he could puke. He hopes that when he sees you the nerves will melt. But they get 20x worse because he’s enamored with you. You’re beyond his wildest dreams—no number of fantasies could have led him to guess that you look like this.

He’s so obsessed that he starts to stammer before you tell him to calm down, and that he’s making you nervous.

Over dinner, you catch up on everything you’ve missed in the past few months of silence. You fill him in on details in your life that you previously kept to yourself, and he sees a whole new side of you.

At the end of the date, he tells you that he still loves you, that he loves you even more now, and that he’s so so sorry. He says that he’s mesmerized by you, that you’re more than he could have ever dreamed of, and that you can count on him for anything.

You seal the night with a kiss. A long one. It’s so romantic that you feel a bit disturbed with how happy you are after.

And it turns out that yes, this is your big happy ending. You make a perfect pair.

Epilogue: The day that Sanji finally shows off the techniques he told you about long ago, you’re more than satisfied. In fact, it seems like he was actually underselling himself there. You always knew he was the modest type.

thanks for reading! this was inspired by a whole lot of laufey! i hope you liked it. i love sanji so much it hurts me ;(

here's my masterlist if you're interested!

divider courtesy of @cafekitsune tag list @eggrollforyou

[aisarete]

That is true, but also there are many things in many places that truly were never taught. I never learned any basic accounting or financial literacy in school. The only class that covered it even a little was Home Ec, which I did not take. There's lots of oversight like that, and the oversights vary from district to district.

That's not even talking about censorship! I have a lot of respect for my history teacher who closed the door and shut the blinds and told us for the next few weeks we were going to be learning about a variety of things that happened in America, such as the Trail of Tears and the Mexican-American War. The school didn't want it to be taught, and he could get in trouble, but he thought it was important for us to know.

He told us we could choose not to learn and he would move on; or we could promise not to talk about it at school and tell anyone who asked we were doing a unit on some other part of American history, I don't remember which. We voted and wanted to learn what he wanted to teach, mostly because we were rebellious teens and it sounded more interesting at the time.

He warned us not to check out books on the topics we discussed from the school library, either, because if too many kids were reading the same things from the same class, it would come down on him. And he kept all of his presentations of a personal laptop he hooked up to the projector, and kept a full lecture on the whiteboard behind the screen so if anyone came in, he could turn off the projector and it was my job (as the person closest) to retract the screen.

He took it all very seriously. And this was in California! A place many people think of as a bastion of democracy and free speech. Maybe he was lying to get us interested. Maybe there was no admin about to come down on his head for teaching us. But he certainly acted like there was, and I know that it happens in other places in the country too.

I work at a school now, and honestly I found it weird that instead of having everyone wear red and gold or something last Thursday for Lunar New Year (we do Spirit Week pretty often), it was "anything but a backpack" day. I know of only one class who was taught anything about the festivals taking place that day, within driving distance, even! And just before the December holiday, we have Spirit Week every year that NEVER includes other cultures. There's like 20 major holidays around that time, but the entire week is Christmas themed! We have a really diverse student and teacher population, too, and we are supposed to be an International Baccalaureate school. It's a really glaring omission and it goes to show that just because something isn't being actively censored, doesn't mean it's being taught.

There really is a lot we aren't taught in school.

[jaikoyaki]

My Lover

//Kang Haerin x 6thMember!Reader//Short Oneshot//

SYPNOSIS ♡︎ Haerin isn’t the jealous type. At least, that’s what she tells herself—until she starts seeing clips of you and Minji all over the internet.

WARNINGS ♡︎ Jealousy, Possessiveness (soft and non-toxic), Brief Miscommunication, Shipping culture, Hidden Relationship(the members know lol)

WORDCOUNT ♡︎ 1.7k

TAGS ♡︎ Jealous!Haerin, Established Relationship, fluff, FLUFF(was literally kicking my feet while writing this), Light Angst??

A/N:This is a little 1am brain fart so If I cringe at it tomorrow, I’ll probably end up deleting it lol

"MINY/N SUPREMACY!!"

"Their chemistry is insane, are we SURE they’re just best friends??"

"Minji and Y/N have been inseparable lately."

Haerin scrolls through the comments under the latest clip of you and Minji’s interactions. The video itself is nothing special, just you laughing at one of Minji’s jokes, leaning into her like it’s second nature. But the fans eat it up.

The video loops again.

Your eyes crinkle when you smile at Minji. She reaches out instinctively when you stumble, her hand lingering just a second too long. And it’s not just one clip, there are dozens of them now. Edits spliced together, set to soft love songs, moments slowed down to exaggerate the way you two look at each other.

You aren’t Minji’s girlfriend.

You’re Haerin’s. Only hers.

But no one ever ships Haerin and Y/N. No one ever slows down the moments where she is the one next to you.

The thought settles in her chest, foreign and unfamiliar.

Jealousy.

But Haerin doesn’t get jealous.

…Right?

"They’re reaching." Haerin mutters under her breath.

She locks her phone and tosses it onto the bed. It’s just fan edits. Just harmless shipping. She’s known for a long time that people see what they want to see.

"Don’t let them get in your head.” 

But then why does her chest feel so tight?

Because one comment keeps repeating in her mind.

"Minji and Y/N have been inseparable lately."

And it’s true.

Lately, you’ve been stuck to Minji like glue. On stage. In the waiting room. During interviews. Even in practice.

And Haerin remembers—earlier, while filming behind-the-scenes content, you had shoved your phone in Minji’s face, barely able to contain your laughter.

"Min, look! "Minji looking at Y/N like she's the love of her life" oh my god, the heart eyes emoji is killing me! They're reaching so muchhh."

You wheezed, whispering the last part, playfully smacking Minji’s shoulder over and over as she groaned in embarrassment.

The members had laughed. Even the staff chuckled.

Haerin hadn’t.

She had been standing by the water station, fingers curling a little too tightly around a flimsy paper cup, watching as you laughed with Minji like it was the easiest thing in the world.

‘You’re not Minji’s girlfriend.’

She let the water run down her throat, but it did nothing to wash away the strange, unsettled feeling gnawing at her chest.

‘You’re mine.’

Before she even realized it, she was walking back toward the group.

She didn’t say anything, but you noticed immediately.

"Hey, baby, you okay?" You stepped in front of her, voice soft, concern evident in your eyes.

Haerin barely nodded.

You frowned, about to press further—

"Alright, break’s over!" the choreographer called.

You hesitated, eyes scanning her face, but eventually sighed and gave her hand a light squeeze before stepping back into position.

Haerin watched you go.

She told herself it didn’t bother her.

But that was a lie.

And now, before she even realizes it, she’s standing in front of your door.

Her jealousy isn’t loud. It never is.

But when she pushes the door open, stepping into the dim glow of your room, you feel it instantly—heavy in the air, simmering just beneath the surface.

The kind of jealousy that doesn’t need words to be known.

You barely register the sound of the door creaking open before a familiar presence fills the room.

“Rinnie?” Your voice is soft, questioning, as you sit up in bed. There’s only one person who wouldn’t bother knocking.

Your girlfriend.

Sure enough, Haerin steps inside, her small frame swallowed by an oversized pink hoodie, the hood pulled up with little bear ears perched on top. On any other night, you’d tease her about how ridiculously cute she looks.

But something feels off.

Despite the cozy hoodie, her posture is rigid, her expression unreadable. Haerin has always been hard to read, but this, this is different.

You frown slightly, setting your phone aside. “Rinnie?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she takes a slow step forward, then another, her gaze locked onto yours. And for some reason, the air between you shifts, thicker, heavier.

You swallow.

Something is definitely wrong.

You frown slightly. “Is something wrong, love?”

The second the word love leaves your lips, Haerin stiffens. Then, as if short-circuiting, she speed-walks toward you, her ears turning the faintest shade of pink.

Before you can react, she climbs onto the bed, quietly straddling your lap. Her arms snake around your waist as she buries her face into your neck, pressing impossibly close.

Warmth instantly floods your chest.

You chuckle, wrapping your arms around her in return. "You’re clingy tonight" you tease lightly, rubbing slow circles against her back.

Haerin hums in response, but doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, she tightens her grip, nuzzling further into you, her soft hair tickling your skin.

Gently, you murmur, “Seriously Though, what’s wrong?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. A few beats pass, filled only by the quiet sound of your breathing. Then, finally, she mumbles against your skin, her voice barely above a whisper—

“Do you like seeing those videos?”

Your fingers still against her back.

Oh.

So that’s what this is about.

Smiling softly, you shift slightly, pressing a gentle kiss against the top of her hood. “Rinnie…”

She doesn’t lift her head, but you feel the way she tenses ever so slightly, waiting for your answer.

You sigh, pulling back just enough to cup her cheeks to meet your eyes. She resists at first, gaze flickering away, but you don’t let up. Your thumbs brush over the warmth of her skin, and slowly, reluctantly, her eyes find yours.

Her lips are pressed into a pout, her usual neutral expression betraying just the faintest hint of something vulnerable. It’s almost too cute to handle.

“The edits are kind of funny,” you admit, brushing your thumb along her cheek. “But they don’t mean anything.”

Haerin’s lips twitch, but she doesn’t respond.

A small pause.

“You’re always with Minji when we film,” she mutters.

You blink, momentarily taken aback by the shift in her tone.

“Minji isn’t your girlfriend,” she says, quieter this time. “I am.”

Your chest tightens at how small her voice sounds.

A soft laugh escapes you before you can stop it—not out of mockery, but out of sheer disbelief that this is what’s been eating at her. That your Haerin, quiet and composed, is sulking over some fan edits.

“Wait, are you jealous?” you tease, poking her cheek playfully.

Haerin doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she gently takes your wrist, her fingers curling around it, thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles against your skin. 

“…You don’t act like that with me.”

Your teasing smile fades.

“On camera, no,” you clarify, voice softer now. “You know how careful we have to be, Rinnie. I didn’t want to make things harder for you, so I thought keeping some distance was the best thing.”

Haerin stays quiet, her gaze locked onto where her fingers are still brushing against yours.

You tilt your head slightly, watching her. “I’m sorry, baby. I thought it was what you wanted.”

“I don’t like it,” she murmurs.

You exhale, squeezing her hand. “Then tell me what you do want.”

“I don’t want you getting shipped with Minji.”

“I don’t want you to distance yourself from me on camera.”

You hold her gaze for a moment before nodding.

“Okay.”

You don’t break your promise.

The next time the cameras are rolling, you make sure Haerin feels it.

During a phoning live, when Minji passes you a snack, you thank her without much thought—but instead of eating it right away, you turn to Haerin, holding it up to her lips first. She blinks, startled, but opens her mouth after a small hesitation. The chat explodes instantly.

📌@stayrkieeiiw

"Did I miss an update?? Since when were they like THIS???"

💬 @ynhaerinupdate

"WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN? WHY WAS I NOT INFORMED???"

🔁 @haerinno111

"Haerin’s little hesitation before eating lmao she was definitely malfunctioning."

During a music show, while the members are waiting backstage, you casually walk up behind Haerin and rest your chin on her shoulder. The cameras catch the moment as she flinches slightly in surprise before relaxing against you. You don’t move, just standing there with your arms loosely draped around her. The staff members barely react, too used to your antics, but the fans? They lose their minds.

📌 @gay4haerin

"WAIT, Y/N AND HAERIN?? HELLO???"

💬 @haerinsoftie

"They act like a married couple and expect us to be normal about it"

🔁@kpopfangirl24

“Y/N and Haerin have been so touchy lately???”

During a variety show game, you and Haerin end up on the same team. Every time she gets an answer right, you don’t just cheer, you grab her hands and shake them excitedly, or wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close in celebration. At one point, you’re so excited that you practically tackle her into a hug. She stumbles slightly, laughing, and the members tease you, but you don’t let go.

📌 @ynhaerin4life

“The way Y/N is all over her I CAN’T.”

💬 @njzrawr

“golden retriever x black cat energy”

🔁 @idkwhotostan

“Y/N and Haerin are so clingy In here, I need them to explain themselves IMMEDIATELY.”

On a phoning live, you’re seated next to Haerin, and for some reason, you can’t stop messing with her hoodie strings. You keep tugging them playfully, leaning in close whenever she tries to bat your hands away. Eventually, you give up on the strings and just rest your head on her shoulder instead. She freezes for a second, then lets out the softest sigh before tilting her head slightly so your temple rests against hers. The moment is short, but fans catch it instantly.

📌 @ynhaerin4life

"Haerin’s little smile when Y/N leans on her 😭.”

🔁 @multistan010

"Omg...do they know we can see them..?"

💬 @fuckhybeomg

"ARE WE ALL SEEING THIS?? IS THIS REAL??"

After a long day of promotions, the group films a short vlog in their practice room. You’re exhausted, so you naturally gravitate toward Haerin, flopping down beside her and resting your head against her lap. She stiffens at first, her hands hovering awkwardly over you before she hesitantly starts running her fingers through your hair. The fans don’t miss the way she tries to hide her smile, but the cameras catch it anyway.

📌 @haerinupdates

"SHE TRIED TO HIDE IT BUT WE SAW IT. WE ALL SAW IT."

💬 @idkiwannasleepsb

"DID YOU SEE THAT. DID YOU GUYS SEE HER SMILE!?"

🔁 @Y/nupdates

“Theyre not even trying to hide it atp. #YNsold”

🔁 @haerinwinning

"Y/N used to keep her distance from Haerin, now she’s acting like a lovesick puppy… what CHANGED???? 🤨"

📌 @ynhaerin_cult

"THEM. THAT’S IT. THAT’S THE TWEET. #YNSold #Theyremarriedsir"

💬 @minjynomg

"Miny/n shippers are in shambles rn"

Later that night, you scroll through the comments with a smug smile. Next to you, Haerin peeks at your phone screen, then flicks your forehead.

“Stop looking at those,” she mutters, trying to act indifferent.

You just grin, nudging her gently. “You like it, don’t lie.”

She huffs but doesn’t deny it. Instead, she shifts closer, intertwining her fingers with yours under the covers.

————

OG MY GODO I CANNOT WRITE PET NAMES WITHOUT CRINGING OFMG KILL ME NOW😭🙏

Taglist: haha I'm lazy

[uracutieraka]

Bakugo Katsuki who finally gets a date with his support course crush!

find part one here!

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

Bakugo Katsuki started acting completely different after he met you. His once perfect (to his standards at least) reputation was now ruined. The reason? Midoriya's cute support course friend.

Ever since you waltzed over to him with your sweet smile, and oh so pretty eyes, he finds himself nearly bewitched by you. It was driving him absolutely insane!

What was even more insane though, was watching this all unfold from and outside perspective.

Denki found himself nearly throwing up anytime you were even brought up in front of his friend, not because he thought you were gross, in fact it was the opposite. He found how down bad Bakugo was for you down right disturbing.

The normally mean and arrogant man seemed to do a 180° personality change when you came around, or even got mentioned in passing.

Denki especially hated it when you had now found yourself a regular member of their little lunch table. It just meant 40 minutes of watching Bakugo mindlessly nod his head with a glazed over look in his eyes, every. time. you. spoke.

"Gross." Denki says aloud as he bites into his sandwich. Eyes squinting as he watches the two of you like a hawk.

Sero looks over at his electric friend with a knowing smirk.

"You are so jealous Kaminari."

"Am not!"

The ruckus on the other side of the booth has you and Bakugo breaking away from your vicious flirting to study the source of the commotion.

His friends are sitting across from you arguing back and forth as Kirishima continues eating as if all was normal.

"Is everything okay?"

The boys now look over at the sound of the worried voice to see you. You have a concerned look on your face as you dart your eyes back and forth between them.

Denki looks over at his friend to see what his reaction will be to the boys interrupting you and him. To his dismay, bakugo has that stupid dopey smile on his face as he watched your every move.

Ok so maybe Denki was slightly jealous, but like, who wouldn't be? You were pretty and obviously attentive, smart but not arrogant, and worst of all, you liked Bakugo of all people.

Maybe he wouldn't be so upset at the situation if you liked Kirishima or literally anyone but the brooding Blond. It's not that he didn't want his friend to be happy, it's just that he didn't want him to get a girlfriend before he could.

So yeah maybe he was a bit jealous, but it wasn't that crazy.

Sero is quick to tell you everything is fine and to go back to what you were doing and you're quick to flash him a smile and nod of acknowledgment before turning back to the boy you were originally sat over here for.

You watch from the corners of your eyes as his friends go back to arguing but this time they're whisper yelling at each-other. You yet again lean slightly past Bakugo to see the red head sat behind him.

Kirishima only takes his eyes up from his tray of food when he hears his name being said. He looks up with a mouth full of food at the sound of your voice in his ears.

He takes a moment to hurriedly chew his food and swallow before responding.

"So, I was thinking, what if we just added some horns to your head gear instead of you always having to style your hair?"

Bakugo watched you interact with his classmates and feels himself pout a bit at the lack of attention.

You quickly glance at him through your peripheral vision and can see his bottom lip poking out as his eyebrows are furrowed together.

You decide to leans ever so slightly closer to the side of him so your knees are no longer the only parts of you touching.

He flushes and you feel him take a deep breath once your hip and leg is completely flush with his.

You now use your hand on his upper arm to support yourself as you look at Kirishima.

You and Kirishima share a few ideas back and forth with each other about the schematics of his hero costume.

You only end it when you see Bakugo roll his eyes.

You're quick to check your watch and stand up to excuse yourself.

Bakugo feels himself grow disappointed at the idea, a sad frown crossing his face to prove it.

You shoot him that intoxicating smile and ask him if he'd like to walk you to class.

"It's just awfully far and the walk is so boring by myself."

Bakugo yet again giggles at the invite and cleans up his lunch. He take the tray from your hands and you silently laugh at the way he puffs out his chest when you thank him and call him a gentleman.

Once he properly disposes of the trays you grab his wrist and quickly make your exit from the crowded area. He allows himself to be dragged off by you with a wide smile and soft eyes, chuckle bubbling out of him at your eagerness to leave.

If you told Bakugo a month ago that he'd be acting like one of those corny shojou manga guys he probably would've tried to fight you, but here he is now. Eyes never leaving the back of you as you lead him through the vast halls of UA.

After a few minutes of walking you slow down and drop his wrist, coming instead to stand at his side. He's kind of sad at the loss of contact with you but its quickly dissipated when you lean into him and nudge him slightly with your shoulder.

He looks down at you with a smile on his face and you give him the same expression as you two continue dow the halls towards your classroom.

Before the two of you turn down the hallways to your class, you stop him and lean your back on the wall.

He gives you a suspicious look and you tuck you hair behind your ear before talking.

"I don't want my teacher to see us yet.," a dry laugh comes from you before you decide it's best if you maybe actually looked at him while taking. He swears he can feel his heart stop (ifykyk) when you look back at him with a blush on your face and big doe eyes.

"I just wanted to say that I think you're super cute and wanted to know if you were maybe free tonight?"

He can feel his chest tighten at your words and he inhales at the sudden pit of anxiety in his abdomen.

He was free tonight, as he was most nights anyways.

"Yeah, are you?" He cringes internally at the dumb question, obviously you were. You wouldn't be asking him if you were busy. He feels a sense of relief when your siren like giggle swims around in head, ringing in his ears.

"Actually, I'm pretty busy tonight. I'm hanging out with this guy later then have some work to do on his friends costumes." You're tone is flat and he takes you seriously.

You watch as heartbreak over takes his face.

You playfully scoff and swat his chest.

"I'm talking about you Katsuki!" Another heavenly laugh graces his ears and he almost cries tears of joy from the sound alone.

"Oh." He says, heat creeping up his neck and ears as he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck.

"Pick me up at my dorm at 7:30?"

Normally, if you were anyone else, he would shut them down with s 'no' and the fact he goes to bed at 8 p.m. sharp every night. Though he quickly hears a desperate 'yes' tumble out his mouth before he can say anything else.

"Perfect!" You say, standing on your tippy toes to lean up and give him a soft peck on his cheek, something you had been doing since the day you met him. Though today you wore lipstick, something you normally skipped due to the inconvenience of it.

The dark red color stains his skin and you giggle before turning and walking off to class. The bell chimes and you turn around to holler at him.

"You have 10 minutes before you're supposed to be on the training course by the way Kacchan!" a mischievous smile tugs its way on your face as you wink and blow him a kiss before disappearing into your classroom.

He watches you with a fascinated look before he fully registers your words.

'Shit.' He thinks before bolting off to his class.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

"You're late Bakugo." Aizawa dead pans as he walks up to the rest of his class on the platform.

He rolls his eyes and goes to respond before he's cut off again.

"Hey, what's on your face?" Midoriya asks, pointing to his cheek.

A few other students crowd him to get a look at the mysterious red mark.

"Is that a lipstick stain! What were you and that support course girl doing?!" Mineta pipes up.

Bakugo goes to hit him but is stopped when Mina goes to wipe it off.

He shoots himself up into the air and away from all of them.

They all watch in shock at his quick reflexes.

"Don't touch me idiot!"

Mina rolls her eyes and finally Denki chimes in.

"Bakugo, dude, get a grip it's just makeup."

Him and Denki ended up fighting so bad that he has to call you with the other boy to explain that he'll be there at 8 to pick you up instead, due to the fact him and Denki had to help Aizawa grade papers and clean the dorm showers as punishment for the disruption in class.

You giggle when he finally does come around to get you later that night. He has his hands shoved into his pockets and a nervous look on his face that seems to subside when you come out the front door and yet again leave a small kiss to the side of his face. He swears that you must have secret powers because of the way he gets so flustered anytime you even just breathe in his direction.

He hadn't heard the end of it in weeks, his friends constantly making fun of him for his rapid change in behavior. He didn't care though, which he even found weird himself, though he would never admit that to anyone.

He admires your cleaned up appearance, though he found it cute when you had your hair thrown up messily and grease stains on your face from whatever project you were currently working on in class.

"So, Katsuki," The sound of his actual name causes his ears to perk up and another woozy smile to sit on his face. "There's something that I want to show you."

You reach out and place your hand gently on his shoulder and run it down his arm, fingers lazily intertwining with his. You study how he reacts to your touch. You would be lying if you said you didn't throughly enjoy watching the notoriously angry man fold underneath the slightest bit of attention from you.

Though, you also can't help how it seems like your brain just turns off when you talk to him, a ditzy side of you that you didn't even know existed seeps out of you. It's like you can't help yourself. The desire to see that lovesick grin cover his face is all consuming.

You watch as he eventually gives you a few slow nods, showing you his approval to seeing whatever it is you want to show him. His eyes never leave where your hand is connected with his.

He thinks that this is probably the most amount of affection he's ever shown or accepted for anything.

You two walk in silence as you lead him to the school building, only when you scan a card to get in does he stand firm in his place with a weary look on his face. You turn back with a small frown at his solid stance.

"What's wrong?"

"Why are we at the school?"

You let go of him and turn around with and eyeball and a sigh, he knows it's just you poking fun at him due to the way the corners of your lips twitch up a bit as you speak.

"I don't know if you know this but support course students have 24 hour access to the school."

He in fact did not know this. You watch as his face contorts in confusion so you explain why as you rescan your ID card and open the door for him.

"Well for starters, our teacher is always here. He practically lives in the work room." He watches as a small snort leaves your body at the idea of your teacher living at school. "And it's also hard to stop us from working on our projects outside of class. The principle decided it was best to give us full access after a students dorm almost caught on fire when he plugged in his power saw." You continue to mindlessly ramble about how dumb he was for even attempting to do something like that in a small dorm, and how it's frustrating to have to walk all the way here in the middle of the night just to tinker around with small gadgets you could work on in bed.

He doesn't really hear anything you're saying though as his eyes are focused on the way your lips move and eyes seem to glimmer in the florescent lighting of the school halls.

He now fully takes in the way your hair is neatly styled and laid over your shoulders, and the way you have makeup on. He feels a since of pride at the idea of you getting all dolled up just for him to see. Though he quickly feels his knees buckle when you suddenly stop and push yourself up to him and wrap your arms around his neck before giving him a quick hug.

When you pull away you turn your head in an attempt to shy away from his gaze before you start talking to him.

He watches as you mess with the hem of your awfully short summer dress.

His face flushes at the way he can't tear his eyes off where the hem of the dress sways around your thighs.

You finally stop your gentle swaying and take a deep breath.

It's only when the flowy material stops moving completely that he looks back at you, he has to take in a harsh breath at how you look.

Sure you had looked at him head on before, and sometimes you had even bit your lips and blinked up at him! But this? This was something else. You had a wavering smile on your face as your cheeks were now full blown red. For once you were the overly flustered one.

"So uhm, Katsuki, I've been working on this for a couple weeks, and uhm, I'm really nervous to show you," You give him and awkward close eyed smile as you wipe your hands on the sides of your dress, because of this you miss the way he physically swoons at how adorable you look right now. "and it's not like its super amazing or anything! So don't make fun of me, okay?"

"No promises." A cheeky grin now hung on his face, it's the most confident you've seen him act around you, but like always it's cut short by you laughing and rejoining your hands to keep pulling him to your classroom.

You open the door and cringe at how squeaky it is. You turn back and put your finger up to your lip, signaling for him to be quiet.

"Mr. Majima?" Your voice chirps and echos through the metal work shop.

Bakugo wonders who you're calling out for.

He looks around the space, eyeing all the different things in wonder. He's shocked he's never been down here before. He looks back when he hears a loud crashing noise and sees someone pop around the corner.

"Oh! Y/n! Hi! I see you brought your, what'dya call him? Oh that's right! Your friend boy." A teasing tone is laced in the young teachers tone as you loudly groan and flick a lose nail up at the metal gear on his head.

"Bakugo Katsuki!," The teacher he now knows is Power Loader makes his way over to the blond. He watches as the man walks around him and inspects him a bit. Mumbling under his breath. He now turns back to you. "Interesting."

Bakugo feels like a bug getting crushed under someones foot at the choice of words.

"Whatever, Higari. Why don't you go tell my dad about how you nearly blew me up this morning with your stupid new invention." An eye roll and scoff has the older man backing off. Mumbling under his breath about how you were a spoiled brat.

Bakugo watches as he quickly leaves from the way you two had just entered.

"So you know him personally?" His voice holds a slight tremble at the new idea of how completely alone you two were.

You dryly chuckle and begin digging around, what he assumes, is your work station.

"Yeah, him and my dad have been friends since like forever ago. He's actually the one who convinced me to come here to UA. My top pick was a sister school in America."

Bakugo takes in the new information and stores it in his brain under a big fat file with your name on it.

"Wow," he shoves his hands back deep in his pockets. "America? That's far." He wants to slam his face into the wall for being so awkward.

You let out a frustrated huff before turning back to him with a laugh.

"Yeah it is!," you pout your lip out and tap your chin for a moment, lost in thought. "That means I wouldn't have met you! I guess staying has some perks." You send him a small smile before your more focused and frustrated scowl causes your brows to furrow close together, turning back to searching for whatever you had been looking for to begin with.

His eyes scan over the papers lazily tacked and stuck to your wall.

Sketches of Kirishima's costume are laid at the top of all papers. He steps forward to get a better look as you continue throwing drawers open and rummaging through them.

He slides the papers over and now realizes you had sketches of most of his friends costumes, with notes about what you could take away and add. He smiles softly before his eyes catch on a paper tucked underneath all your other ones. He sneakily glances at you through the corners of his eyes to make sure you're still preoccupied. His hand quickly shoves the paper to the side and double checks you didn't hear.

When he's 100% positive you're still busy he allows himself to fully look down. He feels his eyes get wide as he's greeted with the image.

Heat rushes up in his face as his eyes scan over it. Your name is scrawled all over it, but that's not what has him all giddy inside. His last name is written so prettily next to it. He thought his last name was so simple and boring but seeing it like this. In your handwriting? He's convinced it's the most beautiful name ever written, ever.

You stand up quickly and he jumps away from the desk, like he had gotten caught doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing.

Your eyes quickly fall onto where he was just standing looking down at, and widen. Heat shooting all over your body in embarrassment.

You jump over and shove papers around to cover it up.

You're apologizing to him frantically, but he doesn't care. He's looking at you like you just hung the stars up in the sky. The idea of you sitting there and doodling that over and over again yet again bring a cocky since of pride over him.

He takes the moment of clarity to show his true self a bit.

"So? Y/n Bakugo, huh?" He sees you deflate in on yourself and he suddenly feels bad for teasing you. He stutters in his head before deciding to say something else.

"It, uhm, it's a good fit." He was definitely going to make Kirishima punch him in the face later.

He watches as you now tilt your head and give him a confused stare.

"Our names...together..."

Oh my god why is he so nervous?

He watches as you bring your hands up to cover your mouth as you stifle a laugh. After a moment of fighting it you finally let it out. He watching with curious eyes until you stop and look at him, now putting your hands on your hips and standing up straighter.

"This is so awkward." The remnants of a chuckle slowly die down after you're done talking.

He feels slightly relieved at the fact you think so too, and that you also were nervous.

Bakugo hadn't spoked much since you met him, which always perplexed you for a few reasons.

He was known for being a loud and obnoxious student.

He was extremely talkative over text.

And lastly, he just overall seemed like the type to like hearing himself talk.

You hummed and motion for him to follow you. As you're walking you begin talking again.

"Ok, so like I said, you can't make fun of me for this, it's not my best work but I can always tinker with it later."

He's so busy looking around that he doesn't see you stop, causing himself to bump into you slightly.

He lets a sorry out under his breath as he goes to stand you up straight.

You tell him its okay before telling him to close his eyes.

"Why?" You can tell he's unsure about this but he reluctantly does it anyways when you tell him he'll see in a moment.

You walk around and place your hands on his shoulders guiding him forward a few feet. He feels cold when you let go of him.

He listens as you rummage around for a moment, he pokes his eye open but you're quick to run over and put your hands over them.

"Hey! No peaking!" You slightly uncover his eyes by sliding your fingers open. He has them screwed shut now.

You pull away from him and continue setting up.

"Okay!" You chirp out after a moment. He opens his eyes hesitantly.

He looks around for a moment before his eyes land on a pile of fabric neatly folded on a table.

"Well, aren't you gonna look at it?" You use your arms to motion between him and the present.

He walk towards it, slowly and unsure. You sigh and step forward, extending your hand out to him. He takes it with no hesitation. You guide him to stand over what he now notices as the base for his costume.

He gives you wide eyes.

"Is this..." His voice trails off as he brings his fingers to run over the soft material.

"Yep! A completely new type of fabric that's never been invented before!"

He was looking between you and the clothes in awe and shock. Did you really go out of your way to do this for him?

You clear your throat and begin to tell him about the process.

"So basically it's completely flame resistant while simultaneously feeling like 100% cotton. It also traps the sweat on your skin in the arm area, since that's how your quirk functions."

He had mentioned a brief complaint about the material of his costume to you in passing while you two were texting after his training one day.

He hated the feel of the current flame proof material that the support company had provided for him. It was stiff and itchy. But he couldn't wear his regular cotton shirts due to the fact they burned right up when he used his quirk.

"Oh and also.." You reach behind you and pull out a box, it's wrapped in cute pink wrapping paper with unicorns on it. He chuckles at the girly design as he grabs It out of your extended hands.

"Sorry, it was the only kind I had on hand." You shrug slightly and he laughs quietly and nods 'no'

"It's cute, very you."

You blush at the idea of him perceiving you enough to think something was 'very you'.

He stares at it for a moment.

"Open it." You whisper and he briefly flickers his eyes up at you. You have a soft smile on your face but your eyes are bright and excited.

He's gentle opening it. Using a quick finger to slide under the tape and carefully pull the paper off. You think it's cute the way he's so delicate and coordinated. He slides the top of the box off and can feel a familiar lump in the back of his throat, he's quick to swallow it down and look back up at you.

"Did you seriously make this? By hand? With your own brain?" You laugh at his boyish excitement.

You teasingly tap your temple and spout off a witty remark.

"All me baby. 100% the real thing too."

He looks back down in the box. They don't look like anything exciting or crazy but they were in fact the opposite.

To anyone else they would look like regular earplugs, but to you and him they were the invention that could potentially save his hearing in the long run.

"They tune out loud explosions, and any smaller ones. There's a small bracelet like band in the long sleeve I made you that can detect the size and estimated impact of an explosion by the temperature of heat that radiates on your body therefore calculating important information that then gets sent to the earphones to effectively muffle the sounds of the blasts."

You're so beautiful when you talk smart.

His eyes widen as he realizes he said that out loud and not in his head. For the nth time tonight alone he feels his face flush in embarrassment.

You stop your rambling as you turn to look at him.

"What?" Your voice is sweet and a teasing smile plays at your mouth.

He decides that if there was anytime to stand his ground it was now, but as he goes to talk the words seem to suddenly be stolen straight out of his mouth. You had taken his moment of weakness to close the distance between the two of you. Your hands wrapping around both of his biceps, giving them a slight squeeze as you push your face up into his.

"You think i'm beautiful?" Your voice is in a low whisper as you look at him with hooded eyes.

He stutters over his words at the proximity.

"Y-yeah," he take a deep breath. "of course I do."

You let out a quiet titter and lean in. Pressing a quick and chaste kiss to his mouth.

You pull back quickly though, because the doors reopen.

You both look across the large room to see a few of your classmates with your teacher.

"Aha! So you are with Bakugo Katsuki!" An accusatory finger points at you as your friend yells across the room at you.

Bakugo looks at you and you give him a nervous shrug.

"I told her that I wasn't seeing you tonight," you drop your voice low and lean over with a hand covering your mouth. "She doesn't like you because of what you said at the sports festival that one time."

He internally kicks himself for being such a douchebag back then.

"Whatever!," You shout back, making your way towards the man that was hidden behind your three friends. "Higari! You seriously went and snitched on me?" He watches as you stomp towards your dads friend with an annoyed look.

The man is quick to shuffle even closer behind the small wall of your friends, a sign of fear.

Bakugo chuckles as he looks back down to the box in his hands, then over to the clothes on the table. He now realized he had a new life goal, one that was far more important than becoming the number one hero. Bakugo Katsuki was going to marry you one day.

[francesderwent]

thinking about snarky cultural/theological commentary and. the thing about snark is this: it’s easy, and it’s instant gratification. it’s easy because you’re playing to a likeminded audience. you get the way they think, you know the sort of things they find ridiculous, and so you know what’s going to play well with them. it’s not that hard to come up with a zinger that’s going to earn you applause from your own side. it’s also pretty easy to make another human being who’s not on your side look stupid, because we’re stupid creatures and we all have plenty of exploitable weak spots. it’s preaching to the choir, and it’s preaching meanly to the choir. and then, your snark bears all its fruit right away. you get the glowing feeling of having scored points against the enemy while being patted on the back by your friends for being so brave. if you succeeded in being snarky, you get the rewards of snark that very instant.

on the other hand, seeking to share the truth you possess in a mode in which it could actually be received—that is, says St Thomas, according to the mode of the recipient—that’s hard, and it’s so far from being instantly gratifying that you may never see the fruits of it in this life. not only are you not thinking about your likeminded audience, you’re not even going to trot out the truth simply in the way you understand it and call it your best effort. rather, you have to try to get inside your interlocutor’s frame of mind and understand how the truth you know is going to fulfill their own priorities and longings. you have to understand them so well that you see the truth of their position, even if that truth is buried very very deep, and then see how that truth connects them to the truth you see. you have to be insightful, and compassionate, and so, so patient. you don’t get to score any points, with anybody. your interlocutor might still get annoyed with you and turn around and make you look stupid. but you can’t just say “I’m going to speak the truth and I don’t care who hears and how they take it”—you have to care how they take it, because the truth is relational, it’s given and received, not just spouted into a void. and frankly you have to care how they take it because you have to care about their salvation.

don’t get me wrong, there are times in every person’s life when they will be called to stand up and be counted, to put fumbling words to what they hold most dear even if they can’t make everyone understand. but I don’t know that it’s a virtue to be always focused on being seen saying the truth, with no consideration given to who hears you and what they’ll hear in it—and it’s certainly not a virtue to be always focused on being seen saying the truth in a mean and funny way. “instruct the ignorant” is a spiritual work of mercy. but instruct the ignorant does not mean “instruct the ignorant while making the knowledgeable laugh and/or high five.”

[interruptingmooshroom]

I love this topic! Some More News (both a podcast and a YouTube channel) has a great video on it if you’d like something to listen to while you do your chores around the house.

Things that are weirdly similar between these two and you should not ignore:

-Rose to power through economic promise to the point many people, especially in a time of crippling financial hardship, looked past the whole antisemitism thing. (OP’s got this one!)

-Had a failed coup, where he pardoned everyone who was prosecuted as one of his first acts when he finally rose to power.

-Focused on demonization of various minority groups in particular to further his agenda, even if he supported/gave no shits in the past (Often in order to “protect the women/children”, “Promote good values”, etc). Granted, this is p common for fascism in general.

-Openly Pro-Genocide. I mean, we have detention centers already. What do you think the natural endpoint and best method to save money will be? Do you think the fact we have prison slavery won’t bleed into this?

-Both are performance artists, very charismatic populists who win people over and form a cult-like fan base. Hitler did not rise to power alone.

-Touched on a bit earlier, but both figures rose to power in times of economic crisis. When capitalism is failing, be it an outside factor (paying for WWI), or an internal one (capitalism failing as the US empire is losing grasp), ideals such as fascism is allowed to rise. People are desperate and want answers, fascism is the cartoonish hot woman that convinces them it’s a great idea to commit genocide.

-Both used religion as a method of radical thought. Be this to oppress a group of people (women and minorities, mainly) or for a basic rallying cry. You can argue trump might not be as diehard as Hitler was, but the use of religion is still there. This is not me saying religion is bad and wrong, it’s to say fundamentalist viewpoints of religion (or lack there of) is used as a justification for horrible actions.

-Both rely greatly on misinformation. Mein Kampala jumpscare, I’m about to quote hitler. “the great masses of the people … more easily fall victim to a big lie than to a little one, since they themselves lie in little things, but would be ashamed of lies that were too big. Such a falsehood will never enter their heads, and they will not be able to believe in the possibility of such monstrous effrontery and infamous misrepresentation in others.”

-Rich people love em. Granted this also is common with fascism, not just these two.

-Generally people understood these two as funny. They were laughed at, not to, but AT. They were stupid, silly little boys. Even some of these people who laughed at Trump/Hitler will be extremely supportive of them. Do not be fooled by a bumbling moronic Nazi, it is still a Nazi.

I’m tired, and this is a rlly short list. Uh… enjoy. Add your own if you’d like. I think the biggest similarity is that they both have unique hairstyles that are def gonna be unpopular post-whatever the fuck they’re doing/done. You know awkward that caterpillar named after trump’s hair will be in like 50 years?

Also like Elon literally hailed hitler twice in Trump’s honor what are we doing here? Even if you think for some reason Trump isn’t a Nazi, he very clearly furthers goals of and enables Nazis, you’ll notice this has the same effect as if he were a Nazi and actively doing Nazi things.

Yo, correct me if I am wrong please, but didn't Hitler rise to power because he promised to fix the German economy and people really liked that so they looked past everything else he was doing??? Like exactly what's happening in America right now???

So many people said they voted for Trump, put a truly evil person in power, because he said he'd fix the economy, and a little voice in my head is going, "Isn't that what happened with fucking Hitler??"

But I've seen no one point that out so maybe I'm miss remembering???????

[kisssukuna33]

HusbandSukuna! Who's never been the one to understand today's relationships. 50/50? No, his woman will never touch a single bill with her delicate fingers as long as he's alive and well.

HusbandSukuna! Who never understood the whole "giving your relationship time before proposing" thing. You aren't a real man if you drag out your relationship and take what you have for granted, Atleast that must have been what he was thinking when he put a big rock on your finger after dating for only 7 months.

HusbandSukuna! Who takes his role as your fiancé VERY seriously. He asked you to move in with him just right after he proposed. He does everything in he can to make sure you feel comfortable in his house. He even went as far to renovate half of the house to your liking despite your much protesting that it's not needed.

HusbandSukuna! Who checks everyday to see if you are wearing the ring he put on you. it almost become a habbit for him to kiss the ring in your finger every single morning. Not just in the morning, whenever you two hangout in the public he intentionally kisses it to give other people the signal that his girl is strictly taken.

HusbandSukuna! Who wants to get married as soon as possible but he respect your time and choices. He doesn't want you to get overwhelmed by this at all, so he waits patiently ( had to restraint himself from asking like 5 times)

HusbandSukuna! Who gets so freaking happy when you finally confront him about being ready for marriage. The moment those words slip from your mouth his hands instantly go to your waist to pull you closer, closer till your foreheads are touching, He places a warm kiss on your temple and the next thing you hear makes your heart warm and fuzzy.

"You are the best thing that ever happened to me, I promise to be the best husband and I swear on my life I will take care of you and protect you till I die, I love you"

HusbandSukuna! Who jumps straight into the wedding planning. He hears from his married friends how stressful wedding planning was to them and he determines to not make you experience any bit of the stress, He tries everything in his power to make things go smooth as possible.

HusbandSukuna! Who breakdown in tears the moment he saw you walking the aisle to everyone's shock. The grumpy tatted 6'4 scary big guy who has given them nothing but attitude crying over seeing the love of his life walking down aisle? Who would have thought.

HusbandSukuna! Who immediately intertwine your fingers with his as he looks into your eyes like he sees nothing but the whole world in them and wait no minute to whisper "The prettiest, mine"

HusbandSukuna! who finally breaks free from his staring as the wedding officiant clears his throat to let him know that there's a whole wedding left to finish.

Everyone expect him to do a short vow and get done with it. Sukuna isn't known as the most expressive guy after all, but to everyone's surprise the vow lasted whole 15 minutes!! It was filled with nothing but love and appreciation for you and the little grin plastered in his mouth at the end of the vow makes it obvious how proud he was of himself ( I mean practicing this costed him a years worth friend too, after he suggested Sukuna to add some dirty degrading sex joke about you in the vows he ended up punching the guy as a result, so hell yeah he's proud of this!)

HusbandSukuna! Who keeps the honeymoon destination as a surprise till last minute, and your heart fills with joy as you realize he took you back to the beach you two first met, a place special to you both.

He booked the hotel room with the best view to the beach as expected.

HusbandSukuna! Who's heart feel warm all of a sudden, it's only a year ago he believed himself to be someone who's unable to be loved. Oh how much have changed since then.

HusbandSukuna! Who takes your hand and drags you to the balcony for a dance.

The smell of the beach, evening lightening, sounds of the ocean..All adds to the atmosphere as you two get lost in yourselves.

HusbandSukuna! Who takes a glance at the beach and sees a young family, not much older than both of you playing in the sand with their little girl.

HusbandSukuna! Who has a small smile tugged at his lips as he mentally promises to himself that he will return here again after you two finally complete your own little family.

No grammar checks, forgive me I'm too lazy

What do we think about part 2?

[fawnhart]

drew begs bambi to forgive him ! ˚ ᡣ𐭩. 𖥔 ๋࣭

They had just wrapped filming her final season on Outer Banks. The whole time, Bambi acted as if she wasn’t hurting inside and nailed every single take flawlessly. Drew, on the other hand, was a mess and everyone knew it.

He kept messing up his lines, forgetting his call times, and dozing off between takes. In a way, Bambi felt bad for him. But he had no right to her sympathy, at least not at the moment

Now, both back in New York, Drew for a photoshoot and Bambi back in her elementl she couldn’t help but look at him with disgust and anger.

How dare he show up?!

It was one of those nights where everything was happening all at once and nothing at all. Drew stood at Bambi’s townhome door, soaked from the rain, his hands trembling, his chest tight. His mullet was a mess, not giving a damn if paparazzi caught him. He just wanted her to listen. She stood there, arms crossed as her eyes burned with anger, hurt, maybe a little curiosity, but mostly just tired.

she had every right to be

“Please, Bambi. Please, let me in. I can’t” He cut himself off, his voice breaking just a little, the words too heavy in his chest. He couldn’t keep pretending to be fine. Not anymore.

She didn’t move, arms crossed, standing her ground. She was beautiful like that, even if her face was streaked with tears, even if her lip trembled slightly.

“You can’t just come in here after everything, Drew.” Her voice was quieter than he expected, but sharper. It made his heart twist “You think you can just say sorry and it all goes away!?”

“I’ve been a mess without you, baby. I’ve screwed everything up,” he said, his words coming out in a rush “I was… I was just scared. Scared of you and your reputation, of what people would say about us. i-” His voice cracked, and he quickly cleared his throat, trying to hold it together “I thought if I distanced myself, it would protect you.”

Bambi’s expression softened, just a little, but not enough for him to get comfortable. She was still holding that distance “You pushed me away because of what other people might think?” Her voice wavered just slightly on the word might. “And that’s supposed to be for my own good?”

He dropped his head, his eyes stinging “I’m so fucking sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was..no, I am an idiot.

She didn’t say anything, but her gaze never wavered. After a long silence, she sighed, her breath shaky “And then there’s your friend” she said, almost too quietly for him to hear.

The words hit him like a punch in the stomach. He didn’t need to ask which friend she meant. That girl. The one who had spent more time telling Drew what a mess he was for being with her than actually being his “friend”. Drew had started to feel that insidious doubt creeping in, her words twisting around in his head like vines.

“She told you I wasn’t good enough, didn’t she?” Bambi asked, and there was a bitter edge to her voice.

“i-I didn’t believe her, baby,” Drew said quickly, his hands shaking again. He took a step forward, desperate “I never believed her. I-look, I shouldn’t have listened to her at all. I was so caught up in my own shit, and-”

“And what!? You let her tell you who I am!? Who we are!? But you were perfectly fine having sex with me?, right” she said feeling utterly and totally used

He swallowed hard, a heavy knot in his throat “I should’ve told her to back the fuck off. I should’ve told you sooner. I should’ve never let her put those thoughts in my mind. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The air in the apartment felt thick, too heavy to breathe. He finally dropped to his knees, his face flushed with the weight of it all “I love you, Bambi. Please... don’t shut me out. I need you. I can’t fix this without you.”

Her eyes flickered with pain as she stared down at him, her arms still crossed, but now her lips were pressed tightly together as she fought back more tears. She couldn’t let him see her break just yet. Not like this. Not when she was still trying to figure out whether or not she could believe him.

“You really hurt me, Drew. You have no idea how much.” Her voice cracked as she spoke, and she turned away, wiping at her eyes. She moved slowly, the silence between them stretching like a thin wire.

Drew stayed kneeling, helpless. “Please, Bambi. I’ll do anything. Just tell me what I need to do.”

She turned back to him, eyes red-rimmed but steady. “You have to prove it. You have to show me you’re not just talking. Words don’t mean anything anymore.” She paused, her gaze hardening. “And you need to cut her off. She’s clearly got it out for me, and for us, and you can’t keep her around if you want to make this right.”

He nodded immediately “I swear I will. I’ll cut her off. I’ll do anything. Just... please don’t leave me.” His voice was raw, the last of his pride crumbling.

Bambi stared at him for a long moment, and then she sighed “Fine,” she said quietly “But I’m not forgiving you tonight. I need to think about it.”

Drew’s heart sank, but he nodded, trying to be understanding, even if every fiber of him wanted to scream.

“Get up, you’re embarrassing me” He stood up slowly, and she led him into her townhome, but not without a sharp glance over her shoulder as she said, “And you’re sleeping outside tonight, With my cat.”

Drew blinked, startled. “What?”

“I’m serious. Outside. With Ms. Mocha. You can sleep on the balcony.” Her tone was final, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she walked past him into the closet, grabbing a blanket and tossing it in his direction.

Drew was about to protest, but the look on her face stopped him. The soft, determined way she held herself now was a reminder of why he loved her in the first place, because she never made anything easy for him. She knew her worth, even if he had forgotten for a while.

He grabbed the blanket, muttering, “I’m an idiot.”

Her lips quirked up at that, just a little. “Yeah. You are. But you’re still my idiot.” She softened then, her voice growing quieter. “you have to prove you deserve to be with me. Because I can’t go back to being second place.”

Drew nodded, his chest tight. “I swear I will. I swear.” He hesitated then added “can I atleast sleep on the couch?” he said with a weak smile

Bambi rolled her eyes, but it was playful now, the tension easing just enough for her to offer him a tiny truce. “Fine. I haven’t burned your clothes yet, consider yourself lucky.” She said heading to her room to grab some of his pajamas he had left there several times

He laughed softly, grateful for the small weird victory. He knew it was far from over, but it felt like a step in the right direction.

“missed you Mocha” he whispered as he curled up on her soft pink couch, Ms. Mocha curled up next to him with an irritated meow, Drew stared at the night sky view from her townhome, wondering how he could have been so fucking stupid. But maybe, he had a chance to make it right.

© 𝐅𝐀𝐖𝐍𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

[allfearstofallto]

"Aren't you Going to Finish That Thought?"

Wanderer x Fem! Reader

Pure fluff, hurt and comfort

AN: Super super self indulgent fic. Just something I needed as a D1 yapper

“And when you dig the hole, it has to be very shallow, because the roots continue to grow down faster than-” you stop yourself, a hint of embarrassment on your face. You're talking too much. Again. Blabbing on and on about something or other that no one cares about, filling the silence with your annoying voice.

You always talked to Wanderer. You'd seek him out wherever he went just to sit and chat with him. Although, chatting meant he'd actually respond, he never said much back. Instead he'd have his nose in his book or his eyes focused on what was happening out the window, typically it was the sunset. You felt your heart sink at the realization. He was ignoring you. Telling you that you were bothering him with actions rather than words.

“You talk so much,”

“Don't you ever shut up?”

“Not everything needs to be said,”

You mentally cringed at the words that suddenly filled your brain. All things that'd been said to you, all things that people you considered friends or loved ones thought about you. They could say it as a quip or with a playful smile on their faces, but you know that every joke has a bit of truth behind it. They meant it, even subconsciously. And maybe he felt the same way.

You silenced yourself. That familiar lump was forming in your throat, the one that meant you'd possibly cry if prodded the wrong way.

“Aren't you going to finish that thought?” Wanderer had finally looked up from his book. Pretty blue eyes now focused on you with a questioning gaze. His words startled you, seeing as he only spoke so often. You assumed he was being sarcastic again, but he wasn't wearing that smirk that he always did when saying something snarky. He truly meant it.

You shrugged your shoulders, trying to give him a weak smile that wasn't very convincing at downplaying your sudden lack of confidence, “I just- thought I was talking too much,” words spoken with a bit of sorrow behind them. Stammered out forcefully while you still resisted the urge to cry.

“Who said that?” His question had a bit of a bite behind it. A touch of anger in it. For a moment, you feared that he was angry at you, but his eyes had a certain softness to them when he looked upon your face.

“I don't know. Everyone?”

He clicked his tongue, “Am I everyone?”

“I don't-”

Wanderer cut you off before you could finish a self deprecating thought, “I was listening. I'm always listening. Don't you think I would've told you if you were bothering me?”

“I thought you were just being nice?”

“When have I ever been nice?” he asked, but there was a softness to his voice that you realized only you had ever got the pleasure of hearing. Whenever you eavesdropped in him speaking to anyone else, he sounded annoyed, furious even that they'd dare approach him. But never with you.

His question makes your heart beat quicken and your eyes foggy with tears. You shrugged, shook your head, but didn't say anything else. You couldn't. Unless he wanted to console you as you sobbed.

“Now finish what you were saying. About the flowers, right?” Wanderer tried to mask that softness in his voice by sounding butter again, but you could hear through it.

With a laugh, you started up again, watching as his eyes fell onto his book. If you looked closely, really really closely, you could see a little smile playing at his lips.

[vinocean22]

20 Things Spanking Fetishists Have in Common

Sweet Tea

Spankos are soulmates. The fetish hardwires our hearts and minds in remarkably consistent ways that aren’t usually apparent to others, so it’s always a bit magical when we chat. “Holy shit, you get me.” I still find it shocking how much we have in common. Can you relate to this list?

1. We’ve been like this for a very long time.

“I’m a lifelong spanko.” This is common in our community and not all that surprising, as most fetishes are formed during childhood. The vast majority of spankos I’ve met have either been this way for as long as they can remember, or can pinpoint a specific age in childhood when they became preoccupied with thoughts of the act. I can’t personally remember any point in my life when spanking didn’t fascinate me and captivate my attention.

2. It’s not a choice.

For many people, spanking is a kink. They enjoy it and find it sexy, but don’t necessarily consider it a requirement for a good time. For those with the fetish, however, spanking is a need rather than an option. Some of us can appreciate and enjoy other BDSM-related activities like bondage or wax play or needles, but spanking is central to our sexuality. This thing lies at the core of our soul and we couldn’t get rid of it if we tried.

We looked up the word ‘spanking’ in the dictionary as kids, not once but multiple times. This also applied to related words like ‘paddle’, ‘switch’, ‘flog’, ‘discipline’, or ‘punish’. We knew their meanings, of course, but the act of reading the definitions was exciting—arousing, even—though we may have been too young to conceptualize the feeling as sexual. If we studied a foreign language, we sat in class and wondered in the back of our minds, “But what’s the word for ‘spanking’?”

(Is this common with other fetishes? Did foot fetishists look up the words ‘foot’, ‘high heel’, ‘stocking’, etc. at the library, bashfully looking around to make sure no one else would notice? I wonder…)

4. We have, uhhh, ‘issues’ with being around it.

Non-spankos can talk about spanking like it’s nothing, but that’s not the case for people with a fetish for it. We may turn bright red when the topic comes up in conversation or feel the need to leave the room when spankings happen in movies or TV shows. For some, this is because the idea triggers intense arousal, even more so than if straight-up intercourse were playing onscreen. For others, it’s simply too intimate and embarrassing to think about unless we’re by ourselves or discussing it in the context of a sexual encounter. When I was a kid and friends publicly proclaimed, “My mom spanked me yesterday!” I felt absolutely mortified. “How can anyone talk about THAT so casually?”

5. We think about it a looooooot.

Some researcher folks have claimed we all think about sex an average of 18-35 times a day. The fetishists I know think about spanking at least this often if not more, frequently daydreaming about the smacking of butts. A fetish is, by definition, a meticulous obsession. We live and breathe it, and never run out of things to say when chatting with other spankos. We want to meet people like us and TALK about it in detail, even if we never end up playing together. It’s our favorite means of connection.

6. Our fetish has caused us hardship.

“Do you feel like your fetish is a curse?” I’ve seen this asked quite a bit on spanko forums. Most of us had to navigate a number of challenges while growing up with this thing. We felt shame, embarrassment, and isolation after realizing how different we were, and may have worried we were crazy. Our relationships with non-spankos have likely been riddled with intimacy problems because we can’t relate to each other sexually. No matter how kinky or open-minded our partners are, they’re unlikely to understand us unless they have the fetish too. As a result, many spankos become pickier over time, ultimately refusing to date those outside of their orientation. “I’d rather be single than with someone I can’t share this with.” Until we find our people, it’s a lonely world.

7. Spanking takes priority over sex.

Every spanko I’ve ever met has put spanking at the forefront of the itinerary. It’s satisfying in its own right for a lot of folks, whether or not other sexy stuff occurs before or afterward. Some spankos identify as asexual, eschewing intercourse entirely because it doesn’t interest them in the same way discipline does. Others are extremely sexual people who focus on spanking as the main course or frequently indulge as an extended form of foreplay. This is an example of why we might experience difficulty finding balance with non-spanko partners. By the time they’re ready to move onto something else, we’re just getting in the zone.

8. It’s on our mind when we orgasm.

One of the first times I had sex with another spanko, I was blown away by the level of telepathy between us. I closed my eyes and fantasized as he licked my clit. He suddenly paused and smiled. “You’re thinking about having your pants pulled down, aren’t you?” I mean fuck, of course I was, but how did he know?! With a bit more experience in the community, I realized many if not all spankos think about it while they’re getting off. The moment thoughts of discipline enter my mind I’m aroused, but I cool off just as quickly if my focus is drawn elsewhere. If I didn’t think about spanking, I’m not sure I’d ever climax.

9. Most of us have tried switching at least once.

Some spankos like to give and receive in equal share, but many have a preference toward being spanker or spankee. I’ve noticed, though, that even the most stubborn of us who proclaim, “I don’t switch!” have tried a taste of the other side out of curiosity at some point. It makes sense to want to learn all angles of the equation. I’m in favor of the idea that everyone benefits from switching. Understanding what our partners experience makes us all better lovers.

10. We want spankings to feel as ‘real’ as possible.

Often, spankees want to cry. We want to be held down and ‘made’ to take it until our spanker is done, no matter what we say or do. This makes the experience feel more real, as if we’re truly being punished by an authority figure and have no choice in the matter. Once trust has been established, some spankees will afford their partners blanket consent and opt not to use safewords. (I don’t recommend this route with anyone you wouldn’t trust with your life. There are oodles of legitimately fucked up people out there masking their abusive tendencies as BDSM. Vet your spankers well, ladies and gents.) This all exists to enhance the pleasure of the fantasy, but isn’t an invitation to violate limits. We want our spankers to be perceptive, taking us just far enough to inspire tears and provide release, but not so far as to genuinely break or traumatize us. Finding this balance is an art form that requires empathy, intelligence, communication, and skill.

11. We all have our preferences.

What implements do you like? What are your favorite positions? What kinds of spankings are your favorite to give? Bruises or no bruises? How long do you like to go for? What kinds of behavior would earn a spanking from you? These are the sexy deets we discuss when we chat, and our answers say a lot about our personalities. It’s rare for a spanko not to have feelings about such things. More often than not, we have specific reasons for liking what we like.

12. We enjoy associated activities.

To state the obvious: spankos love butts. LOOOOOOOOVE them. Naturally, we tend to enjoy other ass-focused activities in conjunction with spanking, like anal play, doggy-style sex, enemas, thermometers, and between-the-cheeks ‘inspections’. Many of us also dig other punishment-related activities traditionally associated with spanking, like corner time or writing lines. “I will not behave like such a sassy little brat. I will not behave like such a sassy little brat…”

13. For us, spanking is its own category.

I’ve noticed a desire in the spanko community to distinguish what we like from the greater umbrella of BDSM. Clearly, spanking incorporates elements of discipline, D/s, and sadomasochism. However, what most of us mean when we mention our fetish is far more specific. We’re not talking whips, dungeons, or shibari. We’re talking traditional, domestic bare-bottom OTK punishment with hands, paddles, belts, wooden spoons, bath brushes, and other goodies found in the home. It’s a comforting, parental, for-your-own-good type of vibe wherein we call our partners Mommy, Daddy, or other titles that convey nurturing familiarity. Very different than, say, having a cold ‘master-slave’ dynamic in a relationship, which tends to be a bit too much for our taste.

14. We love every stage of the process.

A non-spanko might solely imagine the physical slapping of cheeks when we refer to our love of spanking, but that's not the long and short of the matter. Spankos adore the entire arc of the narrative. The misbehavior that led to the spanking. The threats and anticipation. Getting into position. The warm-up and removal of each layer of clothing, all the way until the spankee’s bottom is bared. The swats, first with hands, then a variety of implements. The communication surrounding lecturing and admonishment. The catharsis of tears. The slow tenderness and beauty of aftercare. The closeness the ritual inspires. The intimate drama of this entire process is deeply satisfying.

15. We distinguish between different kinds of spankings.

What is the purpose of the spanking being given? Punishment? Maintenance? Stress relief? Eroticism? This detail is important to us, for it influences the style in which the spanker spanks. Sexual spankings often involve caressing of nether-regions and start off somewhat softly, building in strength at a comfortable pace throughout a drawn-out warm-up period. Punishment spankings embody an entirely different space. They are meant to be intense, painful, and challenging to endure.

16. We watch a lot of the same porn.

My closest spanko friends and I send each other links to videos every so often. “Have you seen this one?” A lot of the time the answer is yes, for we’re drawn to the same spankers, spankees, and couples who create our favorite content. Spanking vids with a glitzier, more porny atmosphere tend to be lower on the ladder than amateur, traditionally domestic ones. Again, we want it all to feel as real as possible. The “we shot this at home while punishing actual misbehavior” setup provides more satisfaction.

17. We don’t usually watch our porn with non-spankos.

Back when I used to date vanilla and guys would ask, “What kind of porn do you watch?” I would lie and pretend porn wasn’t my thing. This is because I knew that what I watch would likely bore them. A clip with fifteen straight minutes of nothing but spanking, sans sex, would likely make a lot of people’s eyes roll back into their sockets. “So monotonous!” Once I started dating spankos, however, I found much joy in sharing, knowing we could relish each and every moment together.

18. We all want a house out in the boonies.

Ask a spanko about their goals for the future and many will answer, “I want to buy land.” This is because our activity of choice is LOUD and has the potential to disturb nearby neighbors. Nothing ruins a good time like a visit from the fuzz. The begging, screaming, and crying… they are cleansing to our souls and we wish to do them freely. It’s countryside living for us, boy howdy.

19. We’re very romantic people.

It comes as no surprise that many spankos are traditionalists. We often relish old-timey acts of devotion like marriage, opening doors, buying flowers, and cooking for our partners. Many are monogamous and like to wait to have sex until deep bonds of commitment are set in stone. Spanking is an extension of this attitude toward intimacy. We’re so deeply devoted to our partners that we refuse to turn our backs on their misbehavior, laziness, procrastination, or feelings of guilt. Instead we stay, face them, and do what must be done to help them deal with their problems, following up with plenty of aftercare involving sweetness and reassurance. Squeeee.

20. We speak the same love language.

For partners with a consensual domestic discipline dynamic, spanking is an act of love. It’s an intimate ritual centering on a potent giving and receiving of attention. A means of setting aside time to converse and communicate about the challenges of relationships and everyday affairs. A tool for strengthening the bond and balancing the energy between spanker and spankee. A way of helping one another feel “right” and “natural” in a world that so often feels like it’s tumbling off its axis. In nonconsensual or manipulative contexts, spanking is abuse. Between those of us who crave it from one other, it’s the highest form of affection.

Granted, these are solely my thoughts based on my own observations and experiences.

Anything to add, spankos?

Reach out, I'd love to hear you : https://www.the-rose-moon.com/post/20-things-spanking-fetishists-have-in-common

[peaceoutofthepieces]

been having more aftg thoughts in the vein of why i always felt so close to it and adored it so much and i think it's bc of the stunning mental illness portrayal in how neil responds to andrew's depression.

like it's always been blatantly obvious that neil is respectful of andrew's boundaries but the focus is always on the physical sense when it's way more than just that. neil is a mouthy little bitch and while there are a few times he gets annoyed with andrew's non-answers he always knows where the line is and when there's a difference. he has every mode to fit every scenario; he figures out/judges what's needed from him and he complies.

he'll sit and chatter to andrew and coax andrew into talking to him, but he'll back off as soon as andrew tells him no or becomes silently but noticeably (at least to neil) resistant. he'll silently keep him company when the others all forget about him and not care if andrew acknowledges that company, because he's just doing it because he knows how crushing loneliness can be and doesn't want that to add to andrew's pains. alternatively he'll get up and go without complaint if andrew asks and give him as much of his own space and time as possible.

it's such basic understanding and respect but it comes so naturally to him and no one else has given that to andrew before. andrew telling neil he can bear being with him because neil listens to him and gets his boundaries and limits means so much more when you consider how much it probably means to him and how unlikely he finds it that neil of all people allows him to be quiet and distant and alone-but-not without complaint, as well as very obviously enjoying when andrew is open and present and active with him.

it's so quietly respectful and loving and such a good depiction of how easily depression can be navigated by the right partner and i think it's a large part of why their relationship has always meant so much to me

[organic-bloodbath]

Could you do a Dae ho fic? Maybe the reader being stuck with thanos' group and isn't treated with much respect (either treated as weak or just eye candy) but dae ho comes in and helps her + shows her care and respect. Thank you <3

Safe with me

Dae-ho x Reader

Summary: As above.

A/N: I want to marry this man right NOW. I'm begging on my knees.

☆☆☆

You had never felt like you belonged anywhere. You had barely any friends and for the few friends you did have, you were only the spare friend.

You knew that you were beautiful. Guys had been flirting with you dozens of times but you knew they only wanted to get into your pants. They only cared about your looks and wouldn't care to get to know you for who you really were. You had gotten used to the fact that nobody truly wanted you, they only wanted to use you for a while and then toss aside.

It was all the same now here, in this game. You always had a hard time to approach new people, complete strangers to you, and waited for someone to speak to you, to take you in. Nobody did on the first day.

When the second game started, the players needed to form a group of five. You were starting to panic. Most of the players already had atleast one partner who they could start finding more players with.

You had nobody. What if you were left alone when everyone had formed their groups and you'd end up in the weakest one who nobody else wanted to have either?

"Señorita, excuse me," a man said behind you, startling you from your thoughts. "Want to join our group?"

Your heart started hammering harder against your chest, a new sprinkle of hope rising. You weren't chosen the last this time after all.

The man speaking had purple hair and was supposedly the 'famous rapper' Thanos who many players had been thirsting over before the first game. Personally, you didn't get the hype. The man next to him was player 124, you didn't know his name, but you could see him looking at you from head to toe, hunger in his eyes and a smirk spreading on his lips.

"Yeah, you'd make a great addition to our team," player 124 said and winked, creeping you out instantly.

What choice did you have anyway? If the game was about strength, atleast you wouldn't have to worry about it as much because you had men in your group.

"Sure, i'll join you," you agreed and followed them.

Before the game started, all the players' legs were linked to each other with chains and you were squeezed between Thanos and player 124, who had introduced himself as Nam-gyu. You felt uncomfortable having both men around you, especially having their arms around your waist. You could tell that it was all intentional and they could have easily kept their hands higher and not so low.

When it was your turn to play, you were so nervous that you failed your attempt three times and was becoming frustrated and soon panicking, the time seemed to be running down faster the more times you failed.

"Focus, sweetheart," Thanos breathed right into your ear. "You can do it."

"Don't you dare to make us die today," Nam-gyu spat which was the complete opposite of helpful. Thanos gave him a look to shut it and let you concentrate but you didn't notice it.

Finally, you succeeded and your group eventually ended up passing the challenge and was let to live for one more day.

☆☆☆

It was time to vote and you gathered into the crowd to wait for your turn like everyone else.

"And you're going to press 'O' now, right?" Nam-Gyu asked. "Because if you don't, there will be consequences."

You were relieved when it was his turn to vote. He left you alone with Thanos, he wasn't much better option, but atleast now there was only one of them eyeing you down. There was still many players before it would be your turn. You took a deep breath in and tried to calm your nerves down.

"Relax," Thanos said and put his arm around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. Almost too tightly. "As long as you keep your blue patch," he pressed the patch with his tattooed finger, a little too deep into your breast, "you have nothing to worry about. Okay, señorita?"

"Yeah, of course," you mumbled and tried to avoid eye contact with him, but he put his free hand on your cheek, making you to look at him in the eyes.

"You're not gonna betray us, you hear me?" Thanos said with a low and threatening voice.

"I'll press 'O'," you promised, trying to sound convincing.

"Good girl," Thanos said and smiled. He turned away from you to look at the scores, the blue was winning but the red wasn't far behind, but didn't let go of you, his hand still gripping your waist a little too low.

When his number was announced, he immediately rushed to the front and didn't hesitate even a second to press the blue button.

"You okay?" a man next to you asked. You turned your head to look at him and saw his concerned look. You had no idea if he had stood there the entire time or just appeared there a second ago.

"Yeah, i'm fine," you mumbled but you knew you didn't sound very convincing.

"I'm going to press 'X'," he admitted.

You furrowed your brows, looking at the blue 'O' on his jacket. "You're going to change your vote?"

"Yep, i'm done with this place and i'd rather go home, no matter how much money i would be able to earn here if i stayed," he explained. "It's not worth putting everyone else's lives in danger."

A small smile found its way on your face but it was gone too soon that he would have noticed.

"If you change your vote too, you're welcome to join my team over there," he said and smiled. "I've seen you with those guys and i don't like them, not one bit."

You did want to get out of there as soon as possible, but Nam-gyu's threats were still lingering hot in your ear.

"I'll think about it," you said quietly.

He would welcome you to his group? You had seen him with a few guys, all older than him, and one small girl who seemed to be pregnant, atleast by the looks of it. Oh, how much you wished to have another girl by your side.

Player 390.

It was now your turn and you walk to the front to stand in front of the two large buttons. In your mind, instead of red X and blue O, you saw two faces instead - player 388 and player 124.

You took a deep, shaky breath in, and pressed the red button. The pink guard offered you a red 'X' patch to attach on your jacket to replace the blue one.

You walked to the red side where all the other people wanting to go home were. You glanced at Thanos and Nam-gyu who were looking at you with a cold stare. You wouldn't feel safe tonight if you wanted to fall asleep. You wouldn't doubt a moment that they wouldn't do anything to you in your sleep.

You found the same guy who had talked with you just a moment before, trusting him to take you in with open arms. He smiled and put his hand on your shoulder, leading you to his friends, the ones who had already voted.

"My name is Dae-ho," the man introduced himself.

"I'm Gi-hun and this is Young-il," an older guy said. You had heard of him being here for the second time and how he had won all his games a few years ago. It was possible to eventually get back home.

"Hi, i'm Y/N," you said. "Thank you for letting me join you."

"Of course," Gi-hun said and smiled.

That night, you weren't able to sleep and only feared that one of your former group members were going to come after you because you had voted to leave and changed sides, even though the 'O' was a clear winner and would have won anyway, no matter which color you pressed. Now there was no going back to them even if you wanted to – and you didn't.

You sat up and hugged your legs, bringing them close to you and tried to comfort yourself when there was nobody else to do that.

"Not able to sleep, hm?" a whisper came behind you and someone tapped your shoulder to get your attention. You hadn't heard anyone approaching your bed and was terrified to turn around and look at this person. You knew it was Nam-gyu.

"Not really," you said, trying to keep your cool and not seem weak.

"You did a big mistake for voting 'X'. I told you there would be consequences."

He grabbed your face with his hand, pressing on your cheeks so hard it started to hurt.

"Oi, leave her alone," another voice came nearby.

"Or what?" Nam-gyu scoffed. "You'll fight me over this bitch?"

"If i have to, i will," Dae-ho challenged Nam-gyu and stood now right in front of him. Nam-gyu had let go off you. "I'd prefer we'd do it elsewhere though, i wouldn't want to wake up all the people here and have guards shoot us both."

Nam-gyu narrowed his eyes and looked for any signs of bluffing on Dae-ho's face, not finding any. He only stood there like a stone statue, the expression on his face not faltering for even a second.

"Whatever, keep that bitch for yourself. She's not worth it," Nam-gyu mumbled and left, intentionally pushing Dae-ho's shoulder with his when he walked by.

Dae-ho ignored it with a mere roll of his eyes until he looked at you.

"You okay?" he said and cupped your face with his hand, brushing your cheek with his finger on the spot where Nam-gyu's fingers had just been, but Dae-ho's touch felt like a feather.

You only nodded your head.

"Good. You don't have to worry about them anymore, you deserve to be respected and treated like a woman is supposed to be treated," Dae-ho said and his words made your stomach to be filled with butterflies.

Men had never treated you very well, you were used to getting treated poorly, and now having someone show you some respect felt strange. Almost too good to be true. You would have thought you were dreaming if it weren't for his touch on your cheek.

"Try to get some sleep," he said and was about to get up, until he sat down again. "Do you want me to stay?"

You raised your eyebrows, not expecting to hear that. Did he want to have a go with you after all? Now?

"I mean, i can sleep on the floor," he hurried to say. "If it would make you feel safer and sleep better. I don't mind to take the floor."

"Would you really do that for me?"

"Of course. I'll go grab my pillow, be back in a second."

☆☆☆

You slept well all the way to the morning when they woke you up to a new day. You would have gladly slept an hour or two more but you forced yourself to get up. You looked over your bed and saw Dae-ho hugging his pillow on the floor, opening his eyes.

How much sleep did he really get? You felt bad for him but you were thankful that he stayed with you.

"Good morning," Dae-ho said with a tired smile.

"Morning," you replied with a yawn.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked.

"I did, yes," you answered. "Thank you, Dae-ho. I hope it wasn't too uncomfortable for you."

"Oh, it's all fine," he said, standing up, stretching his back and legs a little bit. "I've slept in worse places. Now, let's start to get ready for the next game."

☆☆☆

During the Mingle game, you were felt much safer with Dae-ho to protect you than what you would have felt with Nam-gyu. You were sure that if they had to kick someone out, it would have definitely been you.

Dae-ho made sure to hold your hand every round so you wouldn't accidentally get lost and separated from him, seeing how brutally people were pulling and pushing each other to get into rooms first with enough people.

When it came down to two people, Dae-ho immediately ran with you to a free room and when you were inside, he leaned on the door so nobody would come there and kick you out and claim the room for themselves.

When the time ran out and the door was locked, Dae-ho fell down to sit on the floor, his back sliding agains the door until he hit the ground. He was panting loudly, as were you too.

"Tell me that was the last round," you breathed loudly and leaned your head on the wall.

"It must be," he wished.

"I hope the rest of our group found a partner too," you said, worried that some of them were left alone and were shot.

"I'm sure they're fine," Dae-ho said and came to sit next to you, putting his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him.

"What if they didn't find a room? There wasn't room for everyone," you pointed out.

"We'll see them alive on the other side, okay?" Dae-ho assured you, his hand on your cheek, making you to look at him. You hesitantly nodded, taking his word for it. "Right now, let's just be relieved that we found a room too."

"I know, i know," you said and leaned your head on Dae-ho's shoulder, not even thinking about how the act made Dae-ho's heart skip a beat. You just found his presence around you comforting and how safe you felt with him.

"You know, i saw you before the second game started and we were supposed to form groups," he said. "We needed to find more person into ours and i saw you standing in the middle of the room alone."

You furrowed your eyebrows, pulling your head back now to look at him.

"I was about to walk towards you, but those other guys managed to get to you first," he explained.

"Oh," you let out a breath. Dae-ho was quiet for a moment and you didn't know what to say to that.

"I'm sorry i didn't get to you sooner," he apologized. "I hated to see how they treated you."

"It's okay, i'm used to it," you mumbled and gave him a sad smile. He furrowed his eyebrows and lifted your chin with his fingers. His heart broke for your words.

"Listen. No woman should be used to that," Dae-ho said seriously. "Don't ever let a guy treat you like that, okay?"

You looked at him for a moment until nodded, a little unconvinced but the look in his eyes was so sincere it made you feel much calmer than before.

"Thank you, Dae-ho," you said with a shy smile. "You're a really great man."

Then, the doors were unlocked and you were allowed to leave.

Walking out and scanning the area to see who had survived the game, you let out a breath of relief, seeing Gi-hun and the rest of them safe.

You had all survived through one more game.

☆☆☆

"You know, i think Dae-ho really likes you," Jun-hee said to you quietly when you were in the bathroom.

"Oh, he's just being nice to me," you chuckled nervously and turned off the faucet, starting to dry your hands with paper towels.

"Nice?" she chuckled. "If we get out of here alive, he's definitely going to ask you for a date. He looks at you like a lost puppy."

You felt your cheeks warming up and tried to fight the smile appearing on your lips.

"For real?" you asked and felt butterflies in your stomach.

"For real."

☆☆☆

You were sitting with Jun-Hee and chatting together, laughing about something she said to you. You covered your mouth with your hand. Dae-ho wished you would have kept your hand on your lap, so he would have seen your beautiful smile.

He would have wanted to ask you if you'd go out with him when this would all be over, but he was afraid he was moving too fast and scare you away. You had seemed to be uncomfortable around men, even though you had relaxed in his arms during the Mingle game, when it was just the two of us, and let him hold your hand the entire time you were standing on the carousel.

He missed your touch and wanted to take you into his arms again, but he had to respect your space and get closer to you when you seemed comfortable enough around him.

You having fun and looking happy made Dae-ho smile. Suddenly, you looked towards him, and Dae-ho hadn't even realized that he had kept staring at you for such a long time. He quickly turned his head away to look at Gi-hun, who wasn't sitting far from him, starting a short conversation to seem busy.

"Hello," you said, startling Dae-ho. You walked so quietly that he hadn't heard you arriving near him. You sat right next to him.

"Hello," he greeted.

"We'll have to go sleep again soon," you said. Dae-ho hadn't even realised there was only 10 minutes until the lights were going down.

"Oh, it's that late huh," Dae-ho said.

"I don't want to be weird, but..."

"Yes?" he encouraged, when you didn't finish your sentence. You bit your lip, and Dae-ho saw your cheeks turn slightly red.

"Would you mind to sleep with me again tonight?" you asked nervously. "I get it if you don't want to, it's okay but i just-"

"Yes, of course," Dae-ho interrupted you. "I mean, if you want to and feel safer, i'd be happy to." Dae-ho's heart was beating faster and a smile spread on his face. "I'll just grab my pillow and-"

"No," you said and grabbed his wrist, looking at him in the eyes. "I meant, in the bed with me."

Dae-ho's eyes widened.

"Oh," he quietly gasped. "Sure, yeah."

You could see his cheeks turn red and a smile on his lips.

You went towards your bed and both of you laid on it, your head resting on his chest.

"Your heart is beating very fast," you pointed out and turned your head upwards to look at him. "Am i making you uncomfortable?"

"It's the opposite of uncomfortable," he reassured you and brushed his fingers through your hair.

Right then, the lights went out and you were fully clinging on Dae-ho's body, your left leg over his.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Dae-ho