#like 'aw thank you for inviting me (fuck you) but i don't think i can make it due to university stress (not a lie but fuck you anyway)'

[tardis--dreams]

*googles* how to say no to invitations after having been actively excluded for months without sounding like a petty bitch

[im-ovulating]

For kinktober can we have a kiribaku x reader or dekubaku x reader or dekubakutodo x reader but public sex or double penetration or maybe knife play or quirk play🥺🤤🤤

(A/n: Kinktober Day 9/15! Sorry it's late, but this is way better than anything I was writing yesterday so I'd say the wait was worth it lol)

Word Count: 2,623

Summary- You get dragged off in the middle of the annual pro hero gala for some bathroom fun.

Warnings: Double Penetration, Public Sex, Double Creampie, Riding/Hitting from Behind, Fucking on Sink Counter

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Bakugo x Izuku x Fem! Reader: Double Trouble

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

As you dance with Katsuki, feeling the heat radiating off of him and smelling his mouth-watering cologne, you can't help but feel a permanent warmth in your cheeks. The fitted black suit you and Izuku damn-near had to wrestle him into somehow making him even more attractive. You catch a glimpse of Izuku chatting with a pro hero you don't recognize and see his eyes are locked on the two of you even as he smiles at something his companion says. You've always loved the way Izuku looked at you, his eyes full of desire and admiration, making you feel like the most important person in the room at any given time. And to him, you might just be - well, you *and* Katsuki. The three of you had been together for over a year now, and it still gave you butterflies to think about how lucky you were to have snagged up both of them.

Suddenly, Katsuki's grip on your waist tightens, and he pulls you closer. His breath is hot against your ear as he grumbles, "Keep those damn eyes on me; you're dancin' with me, not him."

"You say that as if I didn't have to practically beg you to dance with me," You shoot back with a grin, not fazed by his glare.

After the song ends and the live band begins the next, Izuku makes his way over. "May I have this dance, beautiful?" he smiles with an awful "proper" accent, holding out his hand.

"Why, of course, good sir," you reply with a small laugh. You take his hand, feeling the warmth of his rough palm against your softer one. The two of you sway to the slow melody of the song as Katsuki is swept away by Mina, who you swear materializes out of nowhere.

You return her excited wave with a chuckle, watching as Katsuki tries and fails to get free.

"You look stunning tonight," Izuku murmurs, his breath tickling your ear as he pulls your attention back to him. His tone is so sincere and reverent that it makes you smile like a fool.

You lean into his chest and wrap your arms around his neck, feeling the familiarity of his body against yours. "Thanks, Izuku," you whisper back. "You both look pretty great yourselves."

As the song continues, you lose yourself in the warmth of Izuku's embrace and the comfort of his familiar presence.

Eventually, the band slows to a stop, announcing that they're going to take five. Izuku leads you off the dance floor with a hand on the small of your back.

"You know..." Izuku begins, leaning down to whisper in your ear, "I meant it when I said you look gorgeous tonight; good enough to... eat." You don't miss the shift in his tone. The deep rumble of his voice sending a tingle down your spine and heating your core. "Kacchan thinks so too," he hooks his chin over your shoulder from behind and gently takes your jaw in his hand, turning your head until you're met with the intense stare of Katsuki who leans against the bar. Seems he got away from Mina after all.

Katsuki takes a deep swig of whatever alcohol he's drinking before setting the glass on the bar and heading towards the bathroom. His eyes never leave you and Izuku - a clear invitation as he slips inside.

As soon as the door shuts behind the blonde, Izuku is leading you towards it. The hand on your lower back is firmer as he guides you through the throng of guests, ignoring the occasional call of 'Deku!' from reporters dotted around the room.

Your face flushes as you realize that being escorted by the number one hero, Deku, means there's no inconspicuousness in your oncoming bathroom tryst.

"Ignore them," Izuku murmurs, holding the door open for you.

Katsuki is waiting, suit jacket and tie already off and the top buttons of his dress shirt undone.

As soon as you're within reach, he's pulling you in by the waist while Izuku locks the door and hangs his jacket next to his.

"Whose bright idea was this?" You ask as Katsuki uses his hold on your waist to lift you onto the counter and starts to bunch the skirt of your dress up. "I'm not complaining, but the top two heroes in all of Japan disappearing into the men's bathroom for an undisclosed amount of time with their girlfriend isn't something that's going to go unnoticed, especially at-" You cut yourself of with a small gasp as his thumb meets your clothed clit. "-at such a big event..." You finish, sounding less resolved as you close your eyes and tilt your head back. A pair of lips meet your neck, causing you to open your eyes and be met with soft green curls.

Izuku's hands curl around your jaw once more, turning you so he can kiss you. Katsuki pulls his thumb away from your clit in favor of spreading your knees apart and yanking your panties off, dropping to his knees so he can bury his head between your thighs.

"O-oh my god..." your groan is swallowed by Izuku's hungry kiss as your hand reaches down to tread through blonde tufts, tugging lightly as you try to pull Katsuki even closer.

He lets out a small grunt at the hair pulling, but obliges, tightening his grip on your thighs and harshly sucking. "Fuckin' hell, woman- be patient." he growls against you, sending vibrations up your spine through your swelling clit. Your arousal has started to pool, only to immediately get swallowed by the blonde.

"Says the one that dragged me in here for a quickie when he's supposed to be showing face at the gala," you shoot back, tilting your head so Izuku can suck and lick at the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of soon to be hickeys that you don't have concealer to cover. Great.

"Shut it." Katsuki grumbles, shoving two fingers inside your cunt as he resumes his assault on your clit. You can feel the mix of spit and arousal dripping down towards your ass and it only makes you squirm even more.

Izuku's hands work on pulling the straps of your gown off of your shoulders so he can push the top passed your breasts and duck down you suck one of your nipples into his mouth. The rough pads of his fingers close around the other, pinching and twisting it as Katsuki adds a third finger.

The back of your head thumps against the mirror behind you as your moan echoes in the empty bathroom. "Careful..." Izuku grins, pressing a kiss to your hardened nipple. "We wouldn't want people to hear you..."

It's as Katsuki bullies a fourth finger into you that you realize what they're intending.

"Here??" You gasp out, biting down on your lower lip to stifle the moan that nearly rips out of you as Katsuki's fingers curl against that soft, spongy inside of you.

"Why not?" His gruff voice asks as he looks up at you; the sight of him on his knees, face so close to your dripping pussy as he looks at you through his lashes and his fingers pump in and out of you has you damn near speechless.

Nearly...

"I can think of 3 reasons off the t-top of my head- oh, fuckk..." you choke out as he and Izuku double team you; Katsuki curls his fingers back against your cervix as he sucks on your clit at the same time that Izuku sharply nips at your nipple.. "But those can wait- do that again," your chest heaves as your hands clutch at the counter aimlessly.

"Screw you both-" you groan, gushing around the blonde's fingers. "Just fuck me already! I'm prepped enough-" You feel more than hear the chuckle Izuku tries to hold back.

When Katsuki doesn't immediately pull away, pressing a few more kisses along your slick folds, you use your grip on his hair to yank his head back so you can meet his crimson gaze. "I said fuck me."

You barely get time to process his eyes narrowing into a dangerous glare before your pulled off the counter, your high heels clacking against the floor as you land on them. Katsuki shoves Izuku back against the counter where you just were. "What'd *I* do?-" "Shut up, Deku and get your pants down." Katsuki interrupts. If our girl wants to be fucked so bad, that's what she'll get."

As soon as Izuku frees his cock, Katsuki is manhandling the both of you again. He shoves Izuku back once more so he's forced to sit in the counter and then he's turning your back to him and lifting you so your straddling Izuku. Stepping between Izuku's legs so he can press against your back, Katsuki rasps in your ear. "Better keep quite, there's a lot of reporters out there that would just love to hear your desperate little noises so they can confirm what they're already thinking..." His grin is sharp against your ear.

His hands still on your hips, Katsuki pushes you down on Izuku's length. It presses into you hard and thick. Just before you can bottom out, you hear the sound of his belt and zipper coming undone before he lines his own cock against your already stretched out hole. With a gentleness that contradicts his behavior a second ago, he reaches between you to hook a finger into you and tugging, stretching you carefully more so he can slip himself inside as well.

Your head fall against Izuku's shoulder as you're filled impossibly. You can't even moan as you shift your hips, causing them to rub deliciously against all of the right spots. Your small pants and gasps mix with Izuku's muffled moans that he's hiding with his hand and Katsuki's ragged breathing.

"Oh, my fucking god," you swallow hard, rocking your hips down to try to adjust to the feeling of both of them inside of you. "A-ah... please... please move. One of you needs to fucking move-"

And they do. Izuku replaces Katsuki's grip on your hips with his own, slowly lifting you up before pulling you back down. You can hear Katsuki curse under his breath as he braces his hands on the counter on either side of Izuku.

Izuku begins to slowly thrust up into you, his hips grinding against your back. Katsuki's face presses harder into your neck as he groans, his cock twitching within you. "Damn, woman," he grunts. "You're so fucking tight."

You feel his face scrunch up as he starts to move with Izuku, his thrusts matching his, but opposite; one in while the other's out. The friction between their cocks within you is exquisite, and thanks to Katsuki's skilled tongue and fingers earlier, you can feel your climax building fast.

Your nails dig into Izuku's shoulders, no doubt wrinkling his shirt in the process, as you tip your head back so it rests against Katsuki's.

Grunts and moans fill the room, the marbled walls echoing your obscenity back at you as it combines with the lewd squelching of their cocks bullying your poor cunt.

A particularly loud moan leaves you as Izuku's cock hits your g spot and he keeps it there, grinding slowly into it just as Katsuki slams into it. The handle on the door jiggles and Katsuki's hand slaps over your mouth as a knock sounds. "Occupied!" The blonde growls out, still grinding inside of you with Izuku.

Spots dance in your vision at the relentless assault against your most sensitive spot and before you can stop it, your cry of pleasure slips passed the firm grip on your mouth. The doorknob stops jiggling and it goes eerily quiet as the three of you wait with bated breath.

After nearly a minute of nothing, Katsuki finally relinquishes his hold, shifting his hand to your neck, tilting your head back impossibly more. "Well, now someone definitely knows. Just couldn't hold it, could ya?" He sneers, slamming into you harshly,

The hard, deep thrusts are clearly affecting Izuku as well if the way he squeezes his eye shut and tips his head back is any indicator; their cocks rubbing perfectly against each other with each thrust. "No need to -mmh- be mean, Kacchan." Izuku manages, his fingers digging into your hips in a way that will definitely leave bruises in the morning. "She can't help it if she's a needy for our cocks," he adds with a small laugh, just when you thought he was on your side.

"F-fuck you both," You whine, already barreling towards the edge again thanks to the nonexistent window of reprieve you got after your first.

They both laugh, Izuku's a soft chuckle and Katsuki's a mean snicker.

"Whatcha think we're doin', dollface?" Katsuki snorts, gripping your waist for better leverage.

Izuku has gone quiet, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and his freckled cheeks painted a pretty red and you know his close. His hips continue to buck up into you but his rhythm is starting to falter; long deep strokes turning into quick bunny humps as he gets closer and closer. Finally, his balls tense and spill into you as he lets loose a debauched groan.

Katsuki isn't going to be too far behind if they way his movements turn erratic tell you anything. With one last thrust into your cervix, you're cumming again, crying out helplessly as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. The only thing grounding you against the overstimulating ecstasy is the four hands tightly holding you.

Your pussy clamping down is his final straw. Katsuki slams him hips against your ass and keeps his cock buried as deep as he can as he floods your cunt with even more cum.

For a few minutes, nobody speaks. the bathroom silent aside from three ragged breaths.

Finally, Izuku speaks up.

You can feel them both shaking with aftershocks as they slowly release their holds on you. When you finally look down, you see that you're covered in your own juices, Izuku's cum, and Katsuki's. You swallow hard, feeling surprisingly unashamed of what you've just done.

"We better get you cleaned up," Izuku says, his voice still shaky. "We need to get back out there..."

Slowly, Katsuki pulls out of you, allowing Izuku to flip yours and his position so he can pull out of you without staining his slacks. You watch as his Adam's apple bobs, his eyes locked on the cum leaking out of your still gaped pussy. He's snapped out of it by Katsuki throwing his jacket at his head. "Hurry up, fuckwad," he tells Izuku. "We've already been in here long enough to draw suspicion."

All you can do is lean back against the mirror as they work on getting you, themselves and the counter cleaned up. As Katsuki takes a damp paper towel and starts to clean the mess from between your thighs, Izuku helps you fix your dress. He helps you get your arms back in the sleeves and turns to look for your discarded panties.

"She's not getting those back yet," Katsuki grins, pulling them out of his slacks' pocket to flash the fabric to Izuku before putting them back and fixing his tie.

Izuku turns just as flushed as you feel as he changes course to help you off the counter and stand you on wobbly legs as you pull your dress back down.

Another knock, this time accompanied by a voice, rings out, muffled by the thick wood. "Are you guys done yet? I really have to piss!" You can hear the shit-eating grin Kaminari wears.

[captainreecejames]

Fired by a... wag? || my ex is a footballer lh44

summary mercedes admin gets fired?

pairing lewis hamilton x reader faceclaim bruna marquezine

warnings curisng, google translate for multiple different languages

notes the much anticipated part 2 to lewis hamilton my ex is a footballer, also i couldn't resist at the end so if brocedes talk to eachother this season just know i predict the future

twitter ---------

ynusername posted--------

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc and others

ynusername first 3 are canadian gp and the last is lewis catching me off guard as I'm on the phone

load more comments

username1 I just know she's on the phone with toto complaining about the admin ↳ username2 the power she holds >>>

roscoelovescoco moms protectings dad ❤️ by ynusername

username3 lewis confirming that yn was yelling at toto via roscoe's instagram, not what I was expecting.

username4 god she is actually the most stunning woman in the world

lewishamilton meu anjo ↳ ynusername eu te amo

username5 the aura in the first picture, unmatched ↳ username6 yeah, but she's also just really fucking hot ↳ username5 lewishamilton can you fight ↳ lewishamilton yes ↳ username6 LOLOLOL

carmenmmundt linda!!! ↳ ynusername no you

username7 why does she look like kendall jenner in the last photo

username8 fan's creating beef between lewis and george meanwhile their wags are calling each other beautiful ↳ username9 the guys leave it on the track, why would carmen and YN need to bring it up on instagram comments

twitter -------

ynusername posted--------

liked by carmenmmundt, georgerussell63 and others

ynusername lewis I know I've only known you for a few months and you've accomplished so much before but to see you on the podium knowing how much work you put into this is awe inspiring. Hope you always know how loved you are

load more comments

lewishamilton I love you yn

lewishamilton these last two months have been amazing and your support through this time means so much to me. I wouldn't want to be here without you

username10 bro i can barely get a text back after 2 months and they're over here telling each other they love you

username11 don't you guys think it's a little fast ↳ username12 don't you think it's none of your business

username13 I know she sent the sabotage email, she really is ride or die for him.

alexandrasaintmleux can't wait to have you in the ferrari garage next year! ❤️ by charles_leclerc ↳ username14 CHARLES WHEN SILVIA SEES THIS YOU ARE GETTING YOUR PHONE TAKEN AWAY ↳ ynusername eu te amo alex

ynusername posted--------

liked by mercedesamgf1, roscoelovescoco and others

ynusername to see you finally on that top step of the podium in Brazil, lewis I don't think you understand how much I love and cherish you. With this season almost done I am so grateful for everything that brought me you and I can't wait to start out next chapter together.

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sebastianvettel congrats you two ❤️ by ynusername, lewishamilton

charles_leclerc congrats happy couple ❤️ by ynusername, lewishamilton

username20 I'm fucking screaming, what???

username21 imagine a year ago you told yn fans that she'd be engaged, we would have said thank go kylian got his head out of his ass ↳ username22 bro it hasn't even been a year since they broke up ↳ username21 yn knew what she wanted

useranme23 lewis really bagged himself a baddie

mercedesamgf1 congratulations to both! hope admin gets an invite to the party ↳ ynusername of course you do adminuser, you're a gem ↳ adminuser omg love you so much yn

scuderiaferrari can't wait to see yn ln-hamilton in the garage next year ↳ username24 ferrari just rubbing it in that they get the goat next year, have to respect the hustle

scuderiaferrari yn do we also get an invite ↳ ynusername stay on my good side babe ↳ scuderiaferrari we promise to always have amarena gelato in stock ↳ ynusername sold 😍😘

username25 further proof that yn got the old mercedes admin fired because why are the admin's getting invited to the wedding??

maxverstappen1 gefeliciteerd voor jullie allebei ❤️ by lewishamilton, ynusername

pierregasly félicitations à toi ❤️ by lewishamilton, ynusername

valterribottas happy couple !!! ↳ ynusername valterri, it's yn. thank you! 💞 ↳ valterribottas 🙄🙄

georgerussell63 congratulations lewis and yn! ↳ carmenmmundt we love you ❤️ by ynusername, lewishamilton

fernandoalo_oficial felicidades a los dos ❤️ by ynusername, lewishamilton

nicorosberg congratulations yn and lewis! much love to you both ❤️ by ynusername, lewishamilton ↳ lewishamilton thanks nico ↳ username26 NICO???! ↳ username27 ENGAGEMENT SO GOOD IT GOT BROCEDES BACK TOGETHER

[moonstruckme]

hi gorgeous!!

could i request poly!marauders with a reader who has been avoiding them a bit? she’ll text and call them, but not see them in person? maybe she tells them she’s really busy and they finally get her to come over or maybe catch her somewhere out n about and find her with a ~mysterious~ black eye? she finally ends up telling them abt it and she’s so embarrassed by how she’s got it and didn’t want them to fret over her? they poke fun of her a little, but it ends with hugs or cuddles on the couch?

(this is so definitely not self indulgent!! i absolutely do NOT have a black eye currently because i was wearing fluffy socks and tripped over my own foot and went flying into a doorknob!!! pfffftt, what kind of idiot would you have to be to pull that off…)

Hope the black eye you don't have is healing well babe!

cw: injury/bruise

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 984 words

“She said she was too busy to even come over for breakfast this morning,” Remus frets. “I don’t know if we should be bothering her.” 

“She’s putting too much on herself,” James says certainly, can-do attitude in place and a bag of your favorite pastries in hand. “She won’t let herself relax, and it’s our job to help with that.” Remus only chews his lip, so he looks to Sirius for backup. “Right, Pads?” 

“Sure.” Sirius shrugs. “I don’t know, I still think she’s avoiding us. Any plan that gets us to see her sounds good to me.” 

“Well, don’t talk like we’re about to bust down her door,” Remus says, rolling his eyes as they come to a stop in front of your place.

“Course not.” Sirius grins, and slams his fist extra-loud against your door to make Remus squirm. James smothers a laugh when he hears a curse from inside, the sound of something falling to the floor, and then shuffling footsteps headed in their direction. 

“Hi.” You sound surprised, half of your face visible in the crack of the door. That’s…oddly shy, for you, and the first threads of concern begin to wind their way around James’ ribcage. Has he or one of the others done something to upset you? Maybe Sirius is right, and you have been avoiding them. “What’re you guys doing here?” 

“Hi, sweetheart.” James gives you his most guileless smile, holding up the bag of pastries. “You’ve been working so hard lately, we thought we’d bring you a treat.” 

You all but melt against the doorframe, the eyebrow James can see scrunching in a cute pout. “Aw, thank you.” 

“Can we come inside for a bit?” he asks, but Sirius is already pushing at the door, nudging you out of the way as he invites himself in. 

You flinch away from the door as Sirius says, “Christ, angel, we haven’t seen you in so long I’d begun to think you were…” he trails off, and Remus and James both hurry in behind him to see why. The half of your face that had been obscured a second ago by the doorframe (intentionally obscured, James realizes now) is marred by a dark, purple-and-yellow bruise. 

Remus inhales softly, all three of your boyfriends nearly frozen in place. 

Sirius has gone tense all over, but his voice is gentle. “How’d that happen, baby?”

It doesn’t help matters that you get so clearly anxious at the question. “I—um, okay.” You look at them abashedly, shoulders gravitating towards your ears. “It’s not as bad as it looks, but you can’t get mad.” 

Sirius sucks his teeth, eyes darkening. James knows his mind is running through all the various people you could be asking them to not get mad at for doing this to you; he’s thinking along similar lines. “Why would we be mad?” Sirius asks, noncommittal.

You brush a strand of hair behind your ear, going to sit on the couch. “I, uh. I ran into the kitchen and hit myself on the cabinet door.” 

Remus hisses through his teeth. “Fuck, honey, the corner?” He sits down next to you, angling your face towards the light. “Is that where this little scrape is from?” His thumb brushes over the small cut with painful tenderness, and James watches with satisfaction as you go so soft you nearly forget to answer him. You give a nod, and Remus hums sympathetically. 

“Jesus, babe.” James leans closer to peer at it. “That’s gotta hurt.” 

Sirius pouts at you, sitting on the back of the couch. “Why would you think we’d be mad about that, darling?” 

The look you give Remus is guilty enough that he withdraws his hand, raising his eyebrows at you. 

“You know how you tell me not to run in my fuzzy socks?” you ask him. 

Remus’ lips twitch, but he narrows his eyes at you sternly. “I do.” 

You shrink away. “Well, I was sort of sliding around in those when it happened.” 

Remus rolls his eyes, but he lets his lips twist into a begrudging half-smile. “Christ. Learned your lesson now?” 

“Learned not to leave cabinet doors open when I do it,” you say, and James tugs you to his front protectively as Remus lets loose an appalled sound that’s somewhere between exhale and laugh. 

“Our poor sweetheart,” he coos, pressing a kiss to the unharmed skin beside your bruise. “I can’t believe you avoided us for days just because you didn’t want Remus to be upset with you. You’re rivaling Sirius for dramatics with that one, lovie.” 

“Oi.” Sirius jabs at your side meanly with his foot. “Don’t start taking my titles. There can only be one master of theatrics in this relationship.”

You draw your knees to your chest, entirely in James’ lap now, and he suspects you’re snuggling closer to him because you prefer his coddling to the other boys’ teasing. He’s more than happy to indulge you, brushing his lips ever so gently over the colorful skin by your eye and giving you a good squeeze with his arms around your middle. 

Sirius makes a soft pitying sound. “That really looks awful. Did you at least put ice on it?” 

You blink up at him, and James wants to chide you and smother you with love at the same time. Remus looks like he feels the same, the exasperation of his sigh diminished greatly by the fondness in his look as he gets up. “You’ve got a pack of peas in the freezer, don’t you, love?” 

You confirm, and Sirius takes Remus’ place on the couch, squinting his eyes at you playfully. “You’re not allowed to avoid us when you’ve hurt yourself ever again. Clearly, you can’t handle it on your own.” 

You seem like you could disagree, but James takes the opportunity to attack you with kisses again, and you don’t protest much after that.

[parkerloves]

JUST MY TYPE | SV5 x Fem!Reader

MASTERLIST

paring: Redbull! Sebastian Vettel x uninteresed! singer!fem!reader

summary: she had to sing once to entertain the paddock, since then, seb just wants her to himself even though she doesn't seem very willing

fc; gracie abrams+ pinterest girls (but picture her as you like)

warnings: seb is a bit of an egocentric ass but a cute one ig + modern au

ynnews has posted!

liked by yourusername, sebastianvettel and 7,863,863 other

ynnews: our girl has been spotted singing to some drivers and a certain german seemed very interested

tagged: yourusername

yourusername: I loved meeting some of you guys there! <3

user542: it was AMAZING to meet you

user263: PLEASE KEEP GOING TO THE PADDOCK

user762: Sebastian, what are you doing here?

user652: simping over our goddess

jensonbutton: I knew I was right @sebastianvettel you finally have her ig, now shut up

sebastianvettel: fuck you

yourusername has posted!

liked by sebastianvettel, jensonbutton and 6,462,927 other

yourusername: I never thought I'd like watching cars race in circles but here we are

sebastianvettel: something a bit more blue would definitely fit you better

user653: ... try not to be so obvious sir

jensonbutton: not worthy here

yourbff: OMG red IS your color

yourusername: Ofc I had to or else my dad would literally kill me

user287: OKAY HEAR ME OUT, she'll end up with Redbull paddock passes, I just know

liked by sebastianvettel

user426: let's be delulu together my friend

user287: do you not know Sebastian?

user426: no, but I do know yn

sebastianvettel has posted!

liked by ynnews, jensonbutton and 1,762,652 others

sebastianvettel: great race, great weekend, thanks for everything SPA

tagged: redbull

user287: since you're not tagging her, I'll do it myself @yourusername

jensonbutton: I like your strategy, let me help @yourusername

yourbff: I shouldn't be doing this but... @yourusername

user625: so we all ship them now or what?

yourusername: congrats on the win!

jensonbutton: HE'S BLUSHING AT HIS PHONE, WHAT-

sebastianvettel: YOU SHUT UP

sebastianvettel: @yourusername thanks gorgeous

yourusername has posted!

liked by sebastianvettel, jensonbutton and 6,276,417 other

yourusername: waking up, writing songs and going back to sleep that's my life now

sebastianvettel: I mean I can help changing that

user543: SEBASTIAN CALM DOWN

user326: did we officially lose him?

user286: over yn? probably

yourbff: new album coming up?

yourusername: 🤫🤫

yourusername has posted a story!

first one: no caption, liked by sebastianvettel and 4,654,862 others

sebastianvettel has replied to your story

is still a lost battle to invite you to another gp since you seem to like redbull?

so now the drink and the car are the same?

we have an unlimited source of drinks

I could think about it then

second one: caption: back again?, liked by sebastianvettel and 4,654,862 others

yourbff has replied to your story

NO WAY HE GOT IT

jesus, don't scream

I never thought of your type like the flirty type

he's not my type

I know, that's why I don't know WHY YOU LIKE HIM

read at 19:54 pm

yourusername has posted!

liked by sebastianvettel, yourbff and 10,754,475

yourusername: he seemed even more excited to see me than to race

tagged: sebastianvettel

user126: GUYS THIS IS NOT A FALSE ALARM, YN HAS POSTED A GUY HERE

yourusername: god, I thought Seb would be the only one screaming because of this

user725: SEB? AW

sebastianvettel: is not my fault you looked almost perfect

yourusername: almost perfect?

sebastianvettel: you could lose the Ferrari jacket

yourusername: and be cold? no thanks xx.

sebastianvettel has posted!

liked by yourusername, ynnews and 2,753,725 others

sebastianvettel: I think we got rid of the jacket and the cold problem

tagged: yourusername

yourusername: don't lie to the public, you tricked me into wearing that

sebastianvettel: good thing it suits you

yourusername: everything suits me

sebastianvettel: I mean you're not wrong

yourbff: NOW I'M SHOCKED

yourusername: shhh

yourbff: I'm telling your dad about the jacket

yourusername: do it and you're dead :)

use426: I HAD ALWAYS KNOW IT

[l4zyb0n35]

THE BREAKING POINT

SMUT FIC

PAIRING: Alastor x F!Reader

SUMMARY: Y/N is a diligent worker, much to the chagrin of her partner, Alastor. Despite his efforts to get her to stop for both their sakes, Y/N remains steadfast in her duties. However, Alastor finds a loophole to this situation.

WARNINGS: Really really great awesome writing skills, Established romantic relationship, (can be seen as dating, fiancé, or married), AFAB reader, usage of Y/N, Sexual content (obv), Mature themes, Mature language, Nudity, Breastfeeding, Unprotected sex, MINORS DNI FOR UR OWN SAFTEY, Alastor manipulates her but only to get her to stop cleaning the hardwood floor, Alastor kinda controls her but not too much. Let me know if i missed anything :3

NOTICE: please don't copy or steal or translate any of my work or you will be haunted in your dreams and i will spawn something unpleasant at your porch the next day. But...thanks for liking my work !! >.< Property of @l4zyb0n35 and @genderlessdude92

WORDS: 2.4k

Requests are open, support is highly appreciated!

〰ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ..。.:*･ﾟ♫₊ ♪ *♬‧₊enjoy!~

You were a very hardworking woman around the hotel, to say the least.

Your excuse? “Well, Charlie is just dealing with so much, what’s my help going to harm but not… help?”

Ever since your dear partner, Alastor, invited you to live with him in his hotel room at the Hazbin Hotel, just to be closer as a couple,

You would not stop fucking working.

It’s driving him mad.

He has recently tried everything to get you to relax, to take it easy for once, but you were too stubborn for that. He couldn’t even believe how much work you did for such a small pay. It was honestly ridiculous since you weren’t even a maid, if that was what you were thinking.

So what if you were a bit of a clean freak, it wasn’t any reason to clean the entire damn hotel every day, including the outside, may we add.

You wouldn’t listen to his advice though, no matter how many times he told you to stop.

“Y/N, I swear if you keep cleaning the hotel I’m gonna���do something very bad,” he threatened one day while you were scrubbing down the lobby.

You chuckled, ignoring his threat.

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart, m’ not gonna lose a limb.” you said with a smile.

Alastor sighed, watching as you continued to scrub the floors.

“You’re just being stubborn, Y/N,” he mumbled under his breath.

‘My last resort, I suppose.’ he concluded in his thoughts, looking around to make sure nobody would hear them.

After making sure that they were alone at the scene, he walked back over to you, trying to fix his composure.

“…When will you come back to bed with me, dear? It’s been cold without you.” Alastor said, kneeling down to her level as he put on his fake facade.

You paused for a moment and turned to him, “Aw, Al, you miss my spot being filled in the bed?” You said, rubbing his shoulder.

He nodded, “It’s never the same without you, I’m afraid.” He tried to soften his smile.

“…You’re not just saying that, right?” You said, losing your smile and pausing your hand.

“What? No-no. I would never lie to you dear.” He said, defending himself.

“…When do you want me in bed, hm?” You said, picking up your supplies and ignoring your suspicions, “I need to shower, after all.” You added.

Alastor stood up, “Now?” He asked, trying to sound hopeful.

“Mm, sure.” You nodded, walking off with your bucket of cleaning supplies.

He silently celebrated his victory.

* * *

Alastor’s ears perked up as he heard the shower turn off.

He was currently laying in bed with only a robe on and some boxers, staring off into the bayou and he brainstormed what he could do to get you to stop working.

He decided a couple minutes ago that his only option left were to ‘have intercourse’.

It was quite smart, actually. All he had to do was take your ability to walk.

So he waited as your blow dried your hair, trying to ignore his unpleasant boner from beneath the cloth of his boxers.

He waited even more when you picked which robe to wear to bed,

which, as you stepped out the steamy chamber, was a red silk robe with Alastor’s initials on it, your favorite.

He had a smug look on his face, seeing you step out in his clothing.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were waiting for me.” You said, seeing Alastor sitting up in bed.

He smiled at you, “No worries, dear,” he said, standing up and putting his hands on your hips.

“I was just waiting for you to come to bed.” He said, bringing his lips close to yours.

You laughed softly, pulling back after a moment, “What’s the occasion, dear?” You rested your forehead on his, closing your eyes.

“Hmm?” He asked, confused.

“Why are you acting so lovey-dovey with me? Is it Valentine’s Day already?” You laughed again, resting your head against his chest.

“Oh, don’t act so surprised, darling.” He said, leaning forward and kissing your temple.

“But, really, what’s the occasion?” You asked, moving back to give him space.

“Well…” He said, thinking quickly, “I figured you deserved a break after all of that hard work you put in recently.” He said, smiling again.

“Oh, your so sweet, Al.” You commented, caressing his cheek.

He leaned into your touch, “Yes…so i decided, what better to do so than taking your ability to walk for the next morning?” He sighed sweetly.

You paused, “…forget about Valentine’s day, did rut season come early?” You said, raising an eyebrow.

Alastor grinned, “It’ll definitely feel like it.” He said, grabbing your waist and laid you flat on the bed.

He moved down to your neck, kissing and suckling on it.

“Alastor…” You laughed out softly, more in a mumble.

“…Sshh, just let me do my thing, okay?” He whispered in your ear, continuing into your neck until he was sure to leave a mark, latching off of it with a ‘pop’.

He then made his way down, stopping at your breasts, cupping them in his hands and giving each nipple a gentle tug before resting his lips onto one of them.

He sucked and nibbled on it, moving to the other breast and doing the same.

He stopped, hearing you moan quietly under him, “Are you enjoying yourself?” He asked, looking up at your face.

“Oh, yes,” you gasped out, feeling your legs go weak as you lay there, “Keep going.” You added, running your fingers through his hair.

Alastor smiled, continuing to kiss your breasts until he felt you get wetter and wetter.

He sat up, sliding your robe off of you and throwing it somewhere across the room, leaving you in just your panties.

His eyes widened a bit at the sight of your body, “How did i end up with a sinner so beautiful.” He said, resting his head on your stomach, giving the fat of your hip a squeeze.

He ran his hands up and down your thighs, stopping at your panties and pulled them off of you, tossing them aside.

He then spread your legs apart and started to rub your clit gently with his thumb.

You let out a soft moan as you let out a jolt throughout your body from the contact, “F-fuck…” You breathed.

Alastor smiled and brought his free hand to your mouth, “Lick.” He commanded, placing his index finger on your tongue.

You obeyed, tasting your juices on his fingers.

He swiftly pulled the claw out your mouth, then slowly slipping two of them into your gummy walls.

You moaned out again as he curled his fingers inside you, thrusting them in and out of your hole.

He pulled his fingers out of you, sucking them clean as he moved your body to the center of the bed, sitting on his knees atop of you.

“Now,” he grabbed your left left, throwing it stop his shoulder, “You know the safe word, dear?” He said, grabbing ahold of his member and teasing your entrance with it.

You nodded, moving your hips for some more friction.

“Needy, I see…” You pulled his cock farther from her, “I need words, dear.”

“Y-yes, Alastor…” You struggled out.

He started to fist his member slowly, “Wouldn’t want to hurt my prized possession.”

After a moment, he pulled his hand away to put another leg up on his shoulder, scooting in and rubbing his duck along your slick folds.

“O-oh….” You breathed out as his meat hit your nub, “P-Put it in, Al…” You mumbled.

“Hm, what was that?” He stoped his member, resting it upon your nub as a tease.

You bit your lip, grinding against his dick, desperate for him to put it in.

He chuckled, pulling it back, making you stop.

You let out a whimper.

Alastor looked at you with a lustful look, his smile widening. “I need you to beg for it, dear.” He claimed, enjoying the moment.

You blushed, looking away for a moment.

Alastor tilted his head, grabbing his member again and started fisting it slowly.

You gulped, looking back at him, still not meeting his gaze, and whispered something incoherent.

He grasped your chin, turning it so you would look at him. “What’s wrong dear? losing interest in my so suddenly?” He said, making you shake your head, “Hm…then beg for it.”

"Please, Alastor, put yourself inside of me, fill me up, fuck me, please!” You begged, moving your hips for a feeling.

He stopped your hips, growling as he pushed himself inside of you without any warning, making you moan loudly.

“F-fuck…” you cursed from the sudden movement, trying to squirm away automatically.

Alastor noticed this, pausing his movement as he grabbed your arms, then your hips and waist, getting you to stop, “What’s wrong dear?”

You looked at him, “…k-kiss me?”

He smiled softly, “Anything for my doe.” he said, leaning down and kissing you directly on the mouth.

Although, as he leaned down, his dick moved further inside you, causing you to let out a jolt once again.

He caressed your hair, “It’s already in, dear,” he mumbled lovingly on your lips, “you’ve done your work, now just relax. I’ll do everything else.”

Waiting until you nodded, he pulled away and slowly began to pull out, before thrusting in swiftly, but gently.

You whimpered softly, gripping the sheets under you.

He pulled out and pushed in again, slowly building a rhythm.

He began to thrust faster, more cruel, “Oh, Alastor…” you moaned out, holding your hands around his neck.

Wet skin slapping together filled the room’s noises, alongside the crickets in the bayou, making you blush from the awkward noises.

Alastor noticed this, beginning to buff out his breaths and growls, and silently sent over his shadow to turn on the radio to a quiet, intimate jazz station.

“Hah…Alastor…” You breathed out as he shushed you, thrusting faster.

His cock rubbed against your walls, hitting all the right spots.

After a while, Alastor started to feel a familiar coil in his abdomen, grunting as he forced his hips to go at an ungodly pace, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Gonna fuck you so good, darling…” He huffed, “Fill you up…you won’t be leaving this bed, understand?” Making you look at him directly and he moved your head with a tendril.

“Y-yes, Alastor…” You mumbled, trying to hold eye contact.

“Good girl…” He awarded verbally, growing another tendril into sight as he moved it down to run your clit, getting a high pitched moan out of you.

“F-faster, Al…I feel it…” You tightened your legs on him, tensing up.

As your tits bounced up and down from the thrusts, you couldn’t help but have to cover them because of the breeze from the bayou-

“No,” he immediately said, lifting one of his hands from clawing at the sheets and placing your hands around his neck, immediately diving down to suckle on your breasts.

“O-oh, yes!” You cried out, feeling his tongue circle around your nubs as he switched between the two.

You groaned as you felt the familiar coil in your abdomen grow after a couple thrusts, “I’m g-gonna cum soon, Al…” You scratched at his back in pleasure, trying to chase at your orgasm.

That’s when he didn’t switch to another breast, but kept sucking on one of them, rubbing and squeezing the other with his hand, making you wonder what he was doing,

Until you felt some milk come out of them.

“Ah-Ah! Alastor! I’m close!” You said, your legs shaking violently as you felt the intensity of him suck and squeeze milk out of you.

He growled, fastening his pace even more, making them even more tougher and he enter and exited your womb space, “Come for me, darling, let me hear you sing for me…”

His dirty talk only got you closer and closer to your edge, until,

You threw your head back into the mattress, arching your back as you let out a blissful cry of pleasure, clenching around him as you rode your orgasm, struggling to even keep your eyes open.

Alastor let out a beastly growl as his form quickly morphed to a more intimidating one as he shoved he cock into you one last time, releasing his seed inside you.

His cum leaked out of you as he slowly pulled out, quickly stuffing his fingers inside your hole so the cum would stay.

“What a good little for you are to me…” He said, admiring the mess you both made on the bed, and then just you laying there.

Noticing how you were still breathing heavily, not moving your body unless a little twitch, he leaned down to whisper softly, “How about some cold water, dear? Think this’ll help you relax?” He asked dotingly, making you nod instantly.

That made him chuckle, moving over to the edge of the bed as he stood up, going over to the nightstand and placing a water pitcher there from the shadows, and walking over the the bathroom for a towel.

***

As he came back from the bathroom with a hot rag in the hand, he noticed how you were half asleep, yet still conscious, which made him laugh softly as he place the rag down by the pitcher, crawling over to you.

“Mon Cher, you’re all fucked out by yours truly.” He smiled softly, fetching the rag from the nightstand with his shadow as he began to wipe your cunt clean.

When he was done, he then took notice of your breasts, how there were some stray milk on them.

Shrugging and tossing the rag aside, he leaned down and softly licked the milk off your chest.

You giggled softly in your daze, “Alastor…” You rubbed your eyes.

When he finished up, he filled a glass of water from the pitcher and turned back to you, sitting you up gently as he tipped the glass of water to your lips.

“Think you’ll be walking tomorrow?” He wondered aloud.

“Hm…will you stay with me here if i don’t?” You asked as you finished your glass.

He placed the cup down, “Of course dear,” he promised, crawling under the sheets beside you, sending his shadow to turn off the lights in the room as he cuddled close to your fragile state,

“Sleep well, dear.”

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END NOTES: I LEARNED HOW TO SPELL AWKWARD FROM WRITING THIS LETS FUCKING GO!!!! All jokes aside, (not really, now clap), i hope this fic actually turns out well because i spent 5 minutes trying to copy and paste this into a word counter and then 2 more minutes pasting this fic here because my phone sucks and it’s broken and i hate it and abuse it but like…i just hope it does well. I (hypothetically) put blood sweat and TEARS into this fic and idgaf what you think because it’s amazing for a first fic on this blog. Notes and comments, maybe even reblogs *wink wink* and also REQUESTS!!! Requests are my best friend, and always open unless I’m on vacation (which i’ll always announce). I love you guys ^^ !!

-Lynn Lazybones

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[bbina]

after rereading your conversation with wonbin, the realization dawns upon you that this was the very first time you're inviting someone who isn't giselle, karina and seunghan over at your place

the only reason why you even invited him over in the first place was that he claims that shotaro is currently bringing someone over at their place (whatever the fuck that meant) after asking wonbin if he wanted to watch a movie

you being you, you felt bad that he had no where to go (not really), so you offered your place as wonbin's place of refuge for the meantime

there was a knock on your door. you get up from your bed and open the door slightly to reveal wonbin in a hoodie and glasses. there's something about seeing him in the most casual attire you've seen him so far that made your stomach flutter unexpectedly

"woah!" you react, widening the door to let him in. "i didn't know you wear glasses" you comment, watching him scurry inside your place with his guitar bag on his back

wonbin smiles sheepishly, looking around for some space to settle his bag in without disturbing or touching any of your stuff. he hesitates for a moment, unsure if he should even settle his guitar down but in the end he does when he sees you pointing to an empty spot near the small kitchenette

"i only wear them at night" he explains, rubbing his hands on the fabric of his sweats. "thanks for inviting me over. i didn't really have a plan on where i would be staying"

you wave him off, "talk about good timing. usually around this time we would be watching a movie together so i figured why not text you" you giggle

wonbin smiles and begins to look around to take in his surroundings

you had a pretty good space all to yourself. it wasn't cramped like usual apartments. you had enough room for two people. there was a small kitchenette, a bathroom, a desk space and of course, your bed

"are you judging my cute apartment" you narrow your eyes at wonbin who was busy looking around. wonbin instantly looks at your direction and apologizes

"oh shit sorry. it's just that it's cozy in here" he murmurs, cheeks turning pink from embarrassment

you let out a loud laugh, making your way to your bed and flopping down on it

"then make yourself feel at home" you grin, grabbing your laptop

you don't see it but wonbin nods, quietly sitting on the floor. he keeps his hands to himself, unsure of what to do. he then sees you scrolling through your laptop

"are you working on something?" wonbin asks, breaking the silence, glancing at your laptop screen that had a bunch of different applications open

"just some assignments for my engineering classes but i'm too lazy to do them for now so i'm just procrastinating" you laugh, scrolling through twitter

wonbin nods, unsure of what to say next. he feels skittish for some reason. is it because he's at your place right now? the same place that he's been seeing on facetime every night for the past few days

"you can work on your music here. i don't mind" you remind him, recalling your text earlier

wonbin looks up in surprise. he isn't sure if he's ready for someone else that isn't himself to listen to his unfinished piece. he's still working on finding the perfect melody before he could start making the lyrics and all that

"i don't want to disturb you" wonbin awkwardly says, fidgeting with his hands. wonbin is taken a back when he hears you scoff

"it's fine. i want to listen to you play guitar in real time anyway too so it’s the best of both worlds i think" you chirp, glancing at wonbin who was looking back at you

wonbin chuckles after hearing your reason. he raises his hands up in surrender

"fine if you say so" he says, reaching over for his guitar bag to pull out his guitar

your eyes widened in awe when you see his guitars were filled with stickers

"cute guitar!" you comment, moving close to the edge of your bed so you could see the guitar more up close

wonbin smiles, "thanks. i've been adding stickers to it recently after seeing anton's laptop. you should see it one day, it's absolutely filled with to the brim" he says, picturing anton’s laptop in his head

"if i have a sticker, can i put one?" you ask, reaching over to touch the said stickers on his guitar

"sure thing" he smiles, watching you run your fingers through the endless amount of stickers stuck on his guitar

you pull your arm back as you now wait for wonbin to start playing

while you wait for wonbin, you slowly start to become hyper aware that wonbin is in your apartment right now. you never really invited anyone else over, minus your ex boyfriend of course so this lot feels a little odd to say the least

it feels different in a sense because before the only person you had over that wasn't karina, giselle or seunghan was your now ex boyfriend, gyuvin.

inviting people over to your apartment in general just feels personal, so intimate that you'd let them see the real you

so having wonbin over despite just meeting fairly recently is a huge feat. that means you actually feel comfortable around him to even invite him over in the first place. something that took you a while to even reach with your past lover

hold on, why are you suddenly comparing wonbin and your ex right now?

your train of thought gets interrupted by the sound of wonbin strumming his guitar

your head shoots up hearing the way wonbin effortlessly plays the guitar like it was his second nature. the way his fingers danced over the strings, filling up the whole place with a catchy tune

"funny you said that all the love is gone.." wonbin starts to sing

your eyes widened. this was the very first time you're hearing him sing in person. who knew he would sound better in person than a voice note that he sent a few nights ago. so much that you couldn't take your eyes off of him

wonbin continues to sing effortlessly, even hitting the high notes of the song as you attentively listen to him. once in a while, his eyes would meet yours before returning back to the strings of his guitar causing you to smile wider each time it would happen

"you can have my heart, but baby don't let me down" wonbin finishes, strumming his guitar one last time before finishing the song

you clap your hands together, cheering him for his performance

"oh my god you sound amazing! even better in person!" you gush, praising wonbin like there was no tomorrow. wonbin couldn't help but blush at the amount of compliments you were throwing his way. it feels way different when there's only one person to compliment you instead of a whole block of students

"oh shut up" he murmurs, hiding his face away from you, making you laugh

"hey! you should be thankful i complimented you! i just don't compliment anyone" you laugh, motioning him to not hide his face away from you

you then get the urge to steal his glasses. while he was trying to look away, you take this time to steal them. wonbin eyes widened and lets out a small gasp when you slide his glasses off his face, even more so when he sees you putting them on

"these don't have prescription?" you ask, checking the lenses if they altered your sight

"it's anti blue light radiation" wonbin says, "i'm always on my phone at night so it helps to keep the radiation away from my eyes" he explains, watching you wear his glasses in front of him

wonbin watches the way you were posing in front of him with his chunky frames. the same frames he doesn't wear often, let alone let anyone see him wearing them but yet here he was, wearing them in your presence

he won't lie right now, but you look good wearing his glasses

wonbin mentally slaps himself on the face for even thinking of such thing. to distract himself, he starts to mindlessly play the guitar again. strumming random chords to mask the slight growing tension in the air

"so what song was that you played?" you ask, thinking about how you're gonna add the song he just sang to your playlist

"don't let me down by leroy sanchez" wonbin answers absent mindedly, his focus fixrd on his guitar only

you let out a hum as you continue to listen to wonbin's strumming. this shit could honestly lull you to sleep if you were being honest right now

suddenly, you get an idea

"sit here" you say, patting the spot next to you on the bed

wonbin's eyes almost pop out of their sockets the way you just casually just asked him to sit next to you. he opens his mouth to say something but closes it instantly. making him look like a fish out of water

"teach me how to play please" you plead, pulling the puppy eyes on him (you're not really sure why you did that but whatever)

wonbin gulps, unsure of what to do or say. he's never taught anyone one on one before. let alone the opposite gender

"didn't you say i can ask you to teach me? are you chickening out now, mr. applied music?" you raise an eyebrow, playfully calling him out. if you remembered correctly, he did say you can ask him to teach you

realizing that you were right, he slowly gets up from your floor to sit at the very edge of your bed with his guitar on his lap

you wanted to laugh at how awkward he was. the real life wonbin is so vastly different from his online persona. it's like you were with different wonbin

"i'm not gonna bite you, i promise" you hold in your giggles, watching him act like a robot with the way his moves were calculated. he was far from your reach that your skin wouldn't be touching his

".. sorry. i'm nervous" wonbin manages to choke out, making you burst out giggling

"what's there to be nervous about?!"

"being at your place and all for the first time. sorry, i'm not used to it" he apologizes again

"oh my god. don't apologize. i was just joking" you wave your hands. who knew wonbin would be the one that's easily flustered in real life, "so when do we start our lesson?"

wonbin snaps out of his little daze after hearing your question. right, he was gonna teach you how to play guitar. that's why he's sitting on your bed, in your apartment, for the first time

he carefully moves his guitar from his lap onto yours. you happily accept the guitar as you put your arms where they should be when it comes to handling guitars

wonbin looks at the way you were holding his guitar before he fixes your position. he gently moves your arm a bit where they would be comfortably holding the neck of his guitar. your skin feels like it was on fire with just his gentle grazes

"you hold it like that" he says softly, eyes fixated on your arm

you nod your head yes, forcing yourself to concentrate while you wait for the next instruction

"now i'm gonna teach you the three basic chords. it's C major, D major and F major" wonbin starts, trying to reenact how he would hold it so he could move your fingers

you couldn't help but look at wonbin's face the way he was calmly teaching you the mere basics of the guitar. the way he was so focused and totally in his element. you almost feel a little distracted at the sight. the way his eyebrows were furrowed, eyes focused on your hands. the way his plump lips slowly jutted out as he concentrates–

wonbin looks at you for permission before moving your fingers to the right placements for the first chord he was teaching you which was C major. you smile, letting him take control. his fingers wrap around yours and gently moves them into the right position, causing you to blush a little at the close proximity

"now strum" he instructs and you do

you let out a little squeal when you hear the chord you were strumming

"i just played a note!" you gush, repeatedly strumming to hear the same chord over and over again

"yes you did. good job" wonbin laughs. the way you were so excited despite it being the most basic thing in the world was infectious to wonbin

"now i'll teach you D major and F major" wonbin says, moving onto the next part of his little makeshift lesson

it goes on like this for what seems like a while. just wonbin teaching you the basics of guitar

you've been going at it for a while now that you can feel your fingers start to hurt from pressing down on the strings

wonbin senses that you were about to give up the way you kept hissing and looking at your fingers that now had dents on them from pressing the strings too hard. he wordlessly gets the guitar off your lap

"okay lesson is over for today. i'll teach you again next time" wonbin says

you let out a sigh of relief as you lie down on your back. you raised your hands up in the air, relaxing your fingers after holding them in the different and difficult positions (for a beginner like you) for a while

"my fingers hurt" you pout, complaining at the dull ache. who knew playing guitar for the first time would actually hurt?

wonbin laughs, and steals a glance

"it's not for the weak" he comments, snickering to himself when he notices you sit back up and frown at him

"you calling me weak?" you challenge, an eyebrow raised as you attempt to stare him down which only just makes wonbin laugh harder

"that was just the basics. how much more if we continued onto a more complicated lesson" wonbin muses

"then that means you just suck at teaching!" you retort, poking your tongue out at him. wonbin snorts and legitimately laughs out loud. his laugh was so contagious that you also started laughing

when both of your laughter slowly dies down, the room falls silent again but it was the silence that you always somehow find yourself in with wonbin. the comfortable kind of silence

you've never felt more at ease in times like this. which in most cases, it’s rare. usually if it falls silent in a group setting, there would be awkward pauses or awkward stares but with wonbin, it just feels different

wonbin starts to play the guitar again. soft music becoming background noise that compliments your shared silence. the gentle strumming that's creating some sort of bubble between the two of you

you smile as you slowly scoot next to him, your head barely above his shoulder as you lean over to watch his fingers dance on the strings again

"i don't think i'll ever get tired of telling you that you play so well" you murmur, glancing at wonbin, whose gaze is fixated on his guitar. wonbin suddenly looks up and you two make eye contact

you suddenly remembered that you were wearing his glasses so you take them off and slowly but carefully put them back on his face. you feel yourself smile as you gently adjust his glasses on his nose while he was busy strumming away on his guitar

your fingers linger on his face for more than a second and your eyes meet again. you can feel that there was a shift in the air. almost like there was a spark between the two of you. so much that you wonder if wonbin feels it too

wonbin bites his lip, ignoring the way he can feel your body heat with the way you were suddenly so close to him. he’s suddenly hyper aware of his surroundings especially when you two are on your bed

it feels like the world has suddenly stopped spinning for the both of you. the tension was so palpable that it feels so intimate

maybe it’s the way that you are so close to wonbin that it was slowly driving him insane. he suddenly stops playing as he couldn't concentrate anymore. his thoughts infiltrated by you

you’re all he could think about in this very moment. the way you’re up in his personal space, the way you’re suddenly the only person he can think of, the way you look so kissable right here, right now

wait a second, kissable?

you and wonbin make eye contact again. there was a glint of something you couldn't pinpoint in his gaze that it made your heart pound against your chest

is it just you or did the room suddenly feel hot? was the ac not working?

"can i kiss you?" wonbin suddenly blurts out in the heat of the moment

the air around you was thick with tension. both hearts hammering against your chests. wonbin's eyes flickered back and forth from your eyes to your lips as you stare at him in shock

you sit there in front of him dumbfounded by his sudden question. it was like the air was knocked out of your lungs

wonbin sets the guitar aside, his eyes still directed towards yours. you can see the way his gaze darkened at that very moment like he just found his prey. which in this case, was you

slowly the realization was slowly catching up to him. wonbin internally winces at the way he asked so casually and direct

he can feel his heart stuck on his throat as he anticipated your answer. he was silently wishing you'd say yes because if you were to reject then well.. this is awkward–

"i thought you'd never ask" you say quietly, voice barely above a whisper, leaning closer and closer til you can feel his hot breath fan your face

he lets out a shaky exhale of relief at your answer as he slowly reaches to cup your cheeks

"is that a yes?" wonbin asks in a low voice, eyes directly boring into your soul

instead of answering, you crashed your lips against his.

alone together ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 . . . different

── taking comfort in the thought that you are together in aloneness through late night talks, heartfelt confessions, and a genuine connection. with your shared experience of recent heartbreaks, you wonder if getting together would be all worth it. in which you find solace in each other's company, that you are alone together.

⋆｡˚ prev | next ˚｡

꩜ notes .ᐟ did i jus change the trajectory of their lives forever

꩜ taglist .ᐟ @onlywonb @rosesfortaro @starwonb1n @wonychu @totheseok @dolloie @hyunjinsnumberonefun @binluvsu @onlyhyunjin @annswwa @wonbinsvlle @hakkkuu @ilovejungwonandhaechan @artstaeh @lecheugo @odxrilove @bunni @saranghoeforanton @nujeskz @nakam00t @kyusqult @nctsshoes2 @revehosh @s9nwoo @daegale @palchokitty @dutifullyannoyingfox @oshakyao @koryutte @b-riize @meowbini @the-swageyama-tobiyolo @winuvs @i03jae @rsatoru @enhacolor @dalliesque @sweetiejaeyun @dearestjake @cupidslovearrows @sasfransisco @kkumistars @sngj08 @taroddori @nshmurarki @ennycutie @ffixtionista @koeuh @astro-doll-the-star @amouriu

[spideyhexx]

mdni; tw: slapping, slightly mean coryo. fem!reader

academic rivals with Coryo to the point you’re always spewing hate at each other, an obvious distaste to those around but the moment you’re alone with him, he’s fucking your brains out. And neither of you admit that you love it, that the sex is so good. The way his hands encompass yours when he pins them down and his lips leave a lasting feeling on your skin that you’ll savor for days on end until you can have him again. You find yourself missing the way his hands fist the sheets when his cock is down your throat, surprisingly letting you take all the control you wanted.

"I really don't care what you do, get your mouth on my dick." Coryo fumbles with his uniform pants as he tries to get the button undone and shoves the fabric past his thighs. You watch him, arms crossed and raise a brow.

"You're not even gonna say please?" Your voice is mocking, piercing his already desperate and entitled attitude and if he was feeling up for it, he would have bent you over and slapped your ass till you cried, but he felt generous this afternoon.

"I won't say thank you either, princess," he rasps out, holding himself back from smiling when you roll your eyes at him and get on your knees in front of him.

He never stops thinking about how you moan his name, the marks you leave on his shoulders and chest are more aggressive when you’re angrier at him, it only spurs him to do so; to piss you off so bad you have the gall the actually slap him. He'd think badly of himself later that night when he remembers the sting of your hand on his cheek, but then he finds himself wanting it again the next time he's fucking you. You looked at him too prettily as your moans turned to whimpers. It was too much for him. No, he needed you to get angry at him again. So he turned to his mean self for answers, as his cock pounded into you, ridiculing you about how awful you did in your presentation that day. He pressed and pressed until you slapped him.

But he loves it. He despises it so fucking bad. You’re like a vice he can’t shake, even if he tries to not come crawling back to your arms and wet cunt, his dick can’t resist you, hell his brain can’t resist you. Both of you come back each and every time.

"You're like clockwork, Snow. Always here exactly at eight," you'd jab at him one night, too prideful to recall the fact that you'd do the same if you were meeting at his place instead of yours.

"You wouldn't touch me if I was late," he'd mutter, not really meaning for you to hear, but you hear it. He sees that. A rare and true moment of shyness comes over him and he freezes, his eyes widening as he tries to cover his tracks, "Guess my timing's just good," before he's pushing you back into your bed and towering his body over yours.

It’s worse when he’s invited to a dinner party at your parents’ behest, and he greets you in the most proper etiquette matter of holding your hand, delicately, like you’re fragile. But of course he knows you’re not. He knows how rough he’s taken you with his cock and when his lips touch your knuckles in a small kiss, his eyes shooting up to peer into yours, Coryo has to try with all of his might not to smirk, with all of his strength not to lick the length of your fingers and take them into his mouth. But he’d chance it. He’d dart his tongue quick before you could process it and even the small feeling of his wet tongue on your finger makes your anger flare up.

It would only be a matter of time before you’re pulling him by his arm and shoving him against a wall to teach him some manners.

let’s chat about coryo, here :)

here’s this too

[devilstruly]

PASS IT FORWARD

pairing - timeskip. kuroo tetsuro (shocking ik) x msby manager gn. reader

summarization - being co-workers (kinda) and more than friends with kuroo comes with its pros and cons

includes - mutual pining, pining at work, distractions at work, did i mention pining, msby 4 and all the shenanigans that come with them, etc.

a/n - i've been thinking about this the whole day and i need to get it out. kinda long whoops. hopefully you'll like it tho <3

It's around 5 pm when you're finally able to sit down on one of the benches by the court, your papers and notes disregarded in your bag. Propping your chin on your hand, you watch in amusement as Atsumu sets to Sakusa and the latter hits a perfect line-shot.

The blonde is undeniably talented, anyone can see it from a mile away, but in all your months of knowing him the awe you feel never seems to falter. Not to mention the outside hitter. The curly-haired objectively handsome outside hitter.

Most times, you question the higher forces when it comes to dealing with these four, but when you have time to sit and observe them it becomes very clear why they get the amount of attention they do. All of them have these amazing qualities that seem to just lure people in. And apparently a lot of people seem to share that sentiment.

Kuroo Tetsuro included.

-

It's around 6.30 pm when Kuroo finally steps out of the JVA's main building, the light breeze causing his bangs to sway to the right.

He immediately fishes his phone out of his coat pocket, ignoring all the other messages and immediately going to his contact list.

The whole day today he was drowning in work and didn't even have a chance to text you and tell you his proposal was approved. Sponsorships flooded in, arrangements had to be made, timings discussed, and so on and so forth.

While he awaits for the steady beeps to pass and your voice to replace them, he can't help the small smile on his face.

'Hey! Finally decided to leave?'

At the sound of your voice his smile inevitably widens and he has to bite his lip to suppress it even the tiniest bit.

'Yeah, someone has to do the extra work around here.'

'Not if you're not getting paid for it you don't.'

'You have a point. It's worth it though.'

'Is it?'

Kuroo can practically see the face you're making and the image has him completely forgetting about the cold outside.

He's so focused on the warmth spreading through him, as well as all the memories from a few hours prior, it takes him a moment to register you calling out his name.

'Kuroo? You there?'

He forces himself to take a deep breath.

'They approved it.'

-

'Oh my god! Tetsu! That's fucking amazing! Congratulations!'

His deep chuckle reverberates through your phone and the swarm of butterflies in your stomach increases tenfold.

'Thank you. We should celebrate, don't you think? Dinner's on me. Invite the guys and meet me at Miya's at 7.30.'

'Okay. See you soon.'

You hang up with pride radiating of off you, so much so that even Sakusa is intrigued by your sudden spirit uplifting.

'What was that about?'

Four familiar faces surround you as your arms fly up in the air, your grin rivaling Hinata's signature smile.

'Kuroo's pitch was approved!'

A series of positively shocked statements follow, but all you can focus on is the happiness cursing through your whole body.

-

The familiar layout of Onigiri Miya greets the five of you when you step through the front door, immediately spotting Kuroo occupying one of the bigger tables. He's laughing at something Suna is showing him on his phone and for a moment your world just stops.

His hair falls every which way, due to the amount of times he ran his hand through it probably, his tie is loosened and the first two buttons of his dress shirt are unbuttoned, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

And he's laughing. That horrible, loud, manic hyena laugh that has you nearly tripping over your own feet.

Everything about him is naturally beautiful, in ways you couldn't even begin to describe.

Not to mention his eyes. You could get lost in those forever. There's just something about the golden specs in them and the intensity in his gaze whenever it meets yours.

Like now.

When he looks up he finds you immediately, and if possible his grin widens. It's like his body has a mind of its own because before he knows it he's standing in front of you.

'Hi.'

'Hi.'

Atsumu rolls his eyes somewhere behind you, the action earning him a slap on the back of his head by his brother, but you can't be bothered by anything besides Kuroo.

'I'm so proud of you, Tetsu!'

Your arms envelop him in a flash and he prays you don't feel the speed of his heartbeat.

Like a puzzle, when his own arms wrap around your form it feels like a perfect fit that neither of you wants to break. Unfortunately, you eventually do, but make no effort to move further.

God those eyes.

'Get a room already!'

Atsumu's shout breaks you both out of your trance, flushed cheeks and sheepish smiles.

'Before we start, I have an announcement.'

All attention falls onto the tall man who doesn't seem at all fazed by it, another thing you admired about him.

'You all...'

He makes a long pause for dramatic effect, which earns him a slap on the arm from you.

'...Are looking at the new Special Chief of PR Department at JVA.'

'Wait, seriously?!'

'Mhm.'

The table errupts in cheers and claps and you, once again, feel that fulfilling surge of pride when you look at him.

'You're fucking amazing.'

You shake your head with fondness. Fondness that Kuroo senses when he looks at you.

Under the dim lights of Osamu's restaurant, you admire the sharpness of his jawline, the curve of his nose, the way his stupidly messy hair covers half of his right eye...And too caught up in him, you fail to notice his eyes unable to pull away from your lips.

He was already standing close, you two never seemed to care for personal space, but he takes a step closer for good measure. It seems to have the desired effect when your eyes snap up to meet his, the corner of his lips tugging upwards ever so slightly.

'Do you mind if I-'

His voice is barely above a whisper but you cut him off with a nod and zero second thoughts.

'Please do.'

The moment your lips meet it's officially game over.

It's just you two in the world, no customers, no pro-athletes throwing comments in the background, just him.

[zerokurokawa]

can I request rindou going on a date with the reader and ran got to know and tells the whole tenjiku and they spy on them? basically it's a chaos and lastly rindou introduces the reader to them?? thank you if do. If not it's also fine!!!

Tenjiku Joins The Date | Rindou x Reader <3

Rindou had finally gotten the nerve to ask you, one of the most beautiful girls he had ever laid eyes on, out on a date. He had tried to keep it a secret from his brother, Ran, but that was nearly impossible since Ran liked to snoop through all of his messages. 

He had planned to take you to this nice restaurant in Roppongi and out on a nice walk by all the fancy stores, maybe even buying you a few things just so he can show off his wads of cash he carried around. 

You had gotten ready for the date and Rindou picked you up at your place. Wearing a cute, simple, white sundress with a corset top, Rindou wasn't able to keep his eyes off you. 

The date was going perfect until you noticed people staring and following you. The same familiar faces you had just seen were not in front of you and you were starting to worry. 

"Hey, uh, Rindou?" You looked at him, questionably as you were now done with dinner and were walking through one of the many fancy stores he wanted to take you to. 

"Yes?" He turned to you and asked, putting the jacket he was looking at buying for himself back on the rack. 

"Have you seen those guys before?" You asked, gesturing towards two Tenjiku guys who were wearing their normal clothes. 

"Fucking Ran and Shion..." Rindou mumbled to himself as he grabbed your hand, trying to lead you away from the two staring guys. They started to snicker as you both walked in the opposite direction. 

Soon enough, you found yourself in another store. You were paranoid at this point. You knew Rindou was involved with some sketchy people, but he promised to make it a point to keep you out of it. Once you turned around, you were face to face with another guy who had hair as white as snow and lilac eyes. 

"I'm Izana, what's your name?" He smirked as he reached out to shake your hand. Another man stood behind him with a scar across his face, stoic and emotionless. He seemed like he didn't want to be there at all. 

"I'm, uh..." You began as Rindou walked up with the two other guys from the other store. You turned around and immediately started questioning what was going on. Rindou spoke up, seemingly embarrassed as he knew what his brother had done. 

"Y/n, this is my brother Ran and our stupid friends. Also, this is the leader of Tenjiku." He said, gesturing towards a grinning Izana. You were in awe, shocked even. Why had they been following you this entire time?

That's when they all started to laugh, but not Rindou, who didn't think it was funny. 

"My brother thought it would be funny to join us on our date." Rindou said, looking down. Before could continue, they all started introducing themselves one by one. 

"I'm y/n, Rindou's date." You said simply, a little taken back by the fact that you were now surrounded by gang members. Rindou kept apologizing and trying to pull you away, but the guys were having way too much fun to let this moment just slip away. Teasing Rindou was one of Ran's favorite past times and he wasn't about to just let you both walk off without embarrassing his little brother a little more. 

"Hey Rindou, why don't we invite her to one of our meetings? Then, you can show her how tough you really are!" Ran exclaimed, laughing the entire time. You couldn't help but to let out a small giggle as Rindou's cheeks went red. 

Finally, they decided to let you finish the date in peace. 

"Y/n, I'm sorry about all of that. It won't happen again..." He trailed off as he took you by the hand. 

"Ya know, I still had fun. Thanks for buying me dinner and a new purse. I love it..." You said, holding the purse close to your chest to show appreciation. 

He smiled and just stared at you for a moment before you spoke up again. 

"I also wouldn't mind attending a meeting or two. I'd like to see how you really are." You smiled. Rindou agreed to let you attend a meeting as he wanted to impress you further. Little did he know, he had already captured your heart. 

(A/N: I hope you enjoy!! All the love <3)

[carolmunson]

must be a kind of blind love

(older!modern!eddie - interlude blurbie) orange colored sky setlist

a/n: wrote this little older!eddie blurbie in honor of me needing glasses. my birthday is tomorrow so consider this an early present from me. this doesn't have to fit in order of any time line, it's just cute and fluffy. however, there are some exciting revelations in here.

tw: references to smut, foul language, otherwise pretty tame. idiots in love.

"Yyyyell-o." "You gotta stop answering the phone like that, Ed."

"It's how I always answer the phone, baby -- it's like a muscle memory."

"Ooh, muscle memory, big word for you," you chuckle, you can hear him click clacking against his keyboard on the other end, "You busy?"

"Not too busy, you okay?" he asks, the click clacking slows down to a stop, you hear the roll of his desk chair and some shuffling, the sound of an iPhone being unplugged from his computer.

"So um, I just left the doctors..."

"Okay before you finish what you're saying, I need you to never start a phone call with 'I just left the doctors...' fours days after we had sex," he interrupts, "We clear on that?"

You laugh, it's hearty and bubbly, enough to calm him from the heart racing 'what ifs' running through his head, "Yes, we're clear -- but you knew I had this doctor's appointment!"

"I know, but still -- how'd it go? Everything good?"

"Well..." you start, "It was an eye doctor appointment, like, an optometrist."

"I know what an optomestrist is, baby girl," he says sweetly, "But thank you for clarifying."

"Anyway I went and got my eyes check and uh..." you trail off, not wanting to say it. You can hear the low giggle coming from his throat, practically see the smile in his next sentence.

"Aw, you need glasses, don't you, peach?" he smirks into his question, heading down the metal staircase into the kitchen to refill his coffee cup.

"Yeah," you say poutily, "And now my eyes hurt cause they did dialysis on my eyes I mean -- dialated my eyes, whoops."

"I would hope they didn't perform dialysis on your eyes, jesus," he still can't hold back his gruff giggle, "Is it bad? What's your perscription?"

"I think it's honestly just an astigmatism? But better safe than sorry," you explain, "Don't make fun of me."

"Oh baby, I'm gonna make fun of you," Eddie pops the mug into the microwave, "Now you know how I feel every time you tell me to put my glasses on. Not fun gettin' old, is it?"

"You make it look pretty fun," you shrug, walking over to the train. The printed out paper with your perscription on it is blinding outside, the white glaring into your dilated pupils, "Fuck that's bright."

"I'm almost done with work for today, you wanna just come to mine?" he asks, "We can go look for frames for you."

"You're gonna be mean," you complain, "I don't like when you're mean."

"I won't be mean, I promise."

"Do you want me to come over?" you ask.

He bites his tongue, wanting to reply with a snappy 'Would I have invited you if I didn't?' but he can tell you just need the reassurance.

"I'd love to see you," his voice warm honey while it drips into the receiver, "Of course I want you to come over. You getting on the train?"

"Yeah I'm like, maybe twenty minutes way," you smile.

"Well then I'll see you in twenty, okay?" "Okay."

He spends the first couple minutes teasing you when you get in to get it out of his system, peppering you with kisses when your fake pout gets too cute for him. Eddie gives you his glasses to try on but you squint.

"These are too blurry," you shake your head, scrunching your nose in a way that has him melting.

"Well that's cause my visions a little worse than yours," he shrugs, plucking them off your face by the bridge and popping them onto his own.

"I think your glasses are nice," you shrug, "They make you look handsome."

"Handsome, huh?" he quirks a brow, "I think they make me look like my uncle. He's like, 74."

"You don't look 74," you roll your eyes.

"No?"

"No, babe," you say sweetly, tilting your head when you look at him, "You look at least 72."

He clicks his tongue and puffs out a breath, "How did I know?"

"You love it," you smirk, kissing his cheek and then the tip of his nose.

"Yeah, yeah, I love it," he nods along, tilting his head up to kiss your lips. He pulls you in close to him, taking a seat on one of the barstools at the kitchen island where you stand between his thighs.

Yeah, yeah, I love it. I love you. I think I love you.

"When your eyes feel a little less blurry you wanna look for some frames?" he asks, noses touching. You nod, feeling safe in his hold, eyes fluttering closed when he kisses your cheek. Eddie's full lips kiss from your cheek to your jaw, to the top of your neck -- implying all the ideas he has in mind to pass the time.

"We can fool around if you want," he asks against your skin, "That sound good to you, four eyes?"

You groan into a laugh, shoving him lightly off you, "Fuck you."

Laughing in the kitchen together is his new favorite past time.

Cat-eye, round, square, wire-rimmed, low brow -- there's too many options. You chew on your lower lip looking at the walls of frames, trying to not get in the way of other people while they grab pairs to try on in the brightly lit mirrors.

"Where do I even start?" you ask yourself, feeling Eddie close behind you. His hand presses against your mid back, leading you over to a wall that doesn't have people crowded around it. It gives you a moment to breathe, he rubs your shoulder as it relaxes.

"What types of sunglasses to you normally wear?" he asks, "That's a good place to start."

You had a few fake pairs of Raybans, a couple cat-eye frames from when you were in your early twenties. One pair of rimless glasses from a 90s party that you don't totally hate. You reach for the Wayferer shaped ones, wire rim bottom and flat top -- you find it accentuates your brows in a way that isn't quite right. They sit uneven on your face.

"These are awful," you mumble, taking them off.

"No they're not," he assures. He grabs a few pairs that are sort of ridiculous just to get you laughing -- big wild pairs with bright colors, a pair of transition lens aviators that look straight out of a serial killer movie, exaggerated cat eye lenses that he said his great aunt would've worn in the 80s. He heals every tease with a gentle kiss to your temple or forehead just over the bridge of your nose.

Eventually he starts looking at sunglasses for himself while you gain the confidence to go for it on your own. It's not lost on him when some of the ladies who work there come over to see if he needs help that they're flirting, and to be fair, he's never one to not indulge. You catch his eye in an opposite mirror where he gives you a wink -- he blushes when you roll your eyes in return.

You finally think you've settled on a pair you like, one that surprises you. Thin wire rimmed, brushed gold, they sit slightly round over your face, dipping a bit onto the tops of your cheeks. They don't accentuate whatever is happening with your brow line, they almost feel like they're supposed to be there. Your next thought sounds like your mom in your ear -- They go with everything!

You push your hair back, seeing if you'll still like them with your hair out of the way and down again. You snap a picture -- well, you snap a few. You don't hate it.

"Hey," you call out, tapping on his shoulder when you get behind him, "What do you think?"

Eddie turns, smoothly taking off the new sunglasses he was considering, "Lemme see."

"Oh honey," he coos, "Oh my god you look like a sweet little secretary."

"Stop," you laugh, heat hitting your cheeks at his praise. "Gotta get you a type writer so you can come work for me," he eggs on playfully, "You can screen all my calls. Maybe earn some over time..."

"Don't be annoying," you chide, slapping at his arm when he snakes it around you.

"No, peach you look so sweet," he gushes, "Really."

"I don't look like a nerd?" you ask, looking into the mirror again.

"Of course you do," he confirms, "But that's what I like about them. Plus, they go with everything."

"We'll be like twins," you say with a nudge, "Yours are sort of like this but silver."

"You're right," he nods, "Look at that, nerds in love."

He gives you a quick kiss -- but both of your hearts sink when the weight of what he says hits both your ears. Nerds in love.

In love.

In love.

You hear him swallow and you do the same. There's a jitter to both of you after, like both of you are pretending to not have heard that sentence. Like it didn't happen.

"So you like these ones?" he asks, voice cracking like a teenager. He clears his throat before flagging over one of the women who offered to help him before, "Can we uh, can we get these set up with her prescription?"

The woman's smile is dazzling, perfect for retail -- you'd buy anything she told you to buy. She takes the pair in your hand and goes to work, calling you both over to the iPads by the check out desk to get the order in. Your heart hammers while you make your way over.

"Ed, I don't even know how much those cost," you say under your breath.

"It doesn't matter," he mumbles back, "You're not paying for 'em."

"Ed," you protest, "No." You shake your head, the serious look on your face makes his chest hot with embarrassment.

But he's quick, he's a loverboy for a reason, "Just think of it as insurance for all the jokes I get to make at your expense. I'm earning my right to bully you by buying them."

"You're so dumb," you huff, taking his hand while he reaches out to you to place your order.

"You love it."

"Yeah, yeah, I love it."

I love it, you think, I think I love you.

prev | next

[harunayuuka2060]

Vil: I find it unexpected that you had chosen to be closed for the entirety of the previous weekend, Azul.

Azul: We went on a short vacation.

Vil: With MC, I supposed?

Azul: Yes. It was quite a lot of fun. *chuckles*

Vil: And you didn't even think of inviting me.

Azul: I'm awfully aware that you have a busy schedule. I couldn't possibly bother you, however, I would surely invite you next time.

Vil: *sigh* Anyway, I came here to borrow MC. Are they here at the moment?

Azul: I'm afraid they wouldn't be working today.

Vil: Why? A day-off after a weekend vacation?

Azul: They are exhausted after they had an intense pole-dancing competition with Floyd and Jade's father.

Vil: ...

Vil: What?

MC: We're doing an exotic dance. Not an extinct dance. Why the actual fuck you look like you're being grilled on a skewer?

Leech's dad: What? This is sexiness! Tell 'em, ma!

Leech's mom: *just smiling* No comment, dear. But you're doing great.

Azul: *recording the whole situation and is trying not to laugh like Jade and Floyd who's been wheezing for an hour*

Cheka: MC! MC! Let's go to Unca!

MC: *cuddling him* I'm exhausted. You go there yourself.

Cheka: *whines* But I want you to see Unca~!

MC: I know his face. I don't have to see him.

Cheka: *pouts*

Ruggie: Boss, it's rare to see you this tired.

MC: *yawns* Yeah. Not used to travelling under water.

Ruggie: I figured. By the way, boss? Can I borrow some money from you again? I'll give it back as soon as I can.

MC: When did I ask you to pay, Ruggie?

Ruggie: Shyeheehee! Right. Thanks, boss.

Ruggie: I'll do your groceries.

MC: Okay. *uses Cheka as a chin rest*

Cheka: Are you going to sleep?

MC: Yes... Shush...

Deuce: I wonder if boss is inside.

Ace: We didn't see them at Mostro Lounge.

Jamil: However, wouldn't it be rude to visit them without prior notice?

Floyd: Nah~. They don't really care.

Kalim: That's great! 'Cause we badly need their help.

Floyd: *kicks the door open*

Ace, Deuce, Jamil, and Kalim: !!!

Jamil: Don't you know how to knock?!

Floyd: Knock-knock~. There.

Jamil: ...

Ace: Let's just go inside.

Deuce: Boss... Are you sleeping right now?

MC: My eyes are closed but I'm listening.

Cheka: Multi-tasking!

Ace: Okay... Well, we have a problem in the Basketball Club.

Kalim: And Pop Music Club!

MC: Uh-huh. And what are those problems that deserve half of my attention?

Floyd: We need a basketball coach~.

MC: You can do that one, Floyd.

Floyd: *scoots to their side* But that's a boring job~.

MC: And what about the Pop Music Club?

Jamil: They're going to get disbanded if they fail to find new members to join their club.

Kalim: Please, MC! Can you take part in our concert?!

MC: What d'you wanna me do? Sing?

Kalim: Yes!

MC: *opens their eyes and looks straight at him* What if I have an awful voice?

Floyd: They have a beautiful voice. I've heard it once.

MC: Tch. You're not helping, Floyd.

Deuce: I want to hear boss sing!

Ace: Geez. Your fanboy energy, Deuce.

Jamil: I know it's not much, but I can offer my services to you.

MC: *raises an eyebrow*

MC: ...

MC: You cook curry?

Jamil: ...

Jamil: *smiles* Yes.

MC: We have a deal.

Floyd: Hehe~. You're so cheap.

MC: There's no cheap with good food.

Cheka: Unca can cook curry!

MC: No, he can't.

Ace: Why is he suddenly mentioning Leona-senpai here?

MC: He's trying to pair me with his Unca. *yawns*

Cheka: *pouts* But you and Unca would fit together.

Floyd: Just give up. My dad got a kick in the face and when he tried to set them up with a friend.

MC: Yeah. Just like Floyd said.

Cheka: ...

Cheka: Are you going to kick me in the face? *puppy eyes*

MC: Yes. But you're a kid so you're exempted.

Cheka: Hehe~.

Ace: Wow.

[benedictscanvas]

pick me up at seven - roy kent x reader

pairing: roy kent x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k (they won't all be this long i don't think!!)

warnings: language of course, and this is a little steamy but with no actual smut. my favourite genre HA

request: I can’t find any good Roy fics until your recent one and I’m dying for more 😭 Anyway you could write something else for him? Maybe they’re at a bar and he gets pissed when he sees Jamie flirting w her? (Not a pre established relationship) - @kashee-h

a/n: your wish is my demand!! i'm so happy you enjoyed the first roy fic of what i hope are many to come. this one totally got away from me, i loved writing it so so much, thanks for a request that I really got to make my own! <3

---

Roy is the one who’s invited you here. Roy is the one who trekked over to your office at the end of the working day and told you that everyone was going out that evening. Roy is the one who suggested you come, even when you seemed reluctant to join in on what appeared to be an evening for just the players and the coaches. Roy is the one who convinced you that it would be fun, that he’d make sure of it.

All of this is making it very hard for Roy to accept that you are currently sat in a corner booth with someone else. The fact that the person you seemed to be having such an in depth conversation with was Jamie fucking Tartt was the icing on a very shit cake.

He knew he could be having a better night than just sitting on a barstool trying not to watch the two of you, especially when Ted and Beard arrived to get the next round and he didn’t even acknowledge them. They’d hired out a private room, so it was filled with people he generally tolerated the company, some he’d even go as far as to say that he liked. None of that was registering, however. 

Jamie leans in when you can’t hear something he’s said and he watches you nod solemnly, duck your head to stare at the floor as if flustered, and he wants to walk right out that door and never come back. Maybe he could get a job at Chelsea, or something.

“Now, what’s wrong, Jeremy Strong?” Ted asks, and Roy has to bite back a ‘fuck off’ so hard he wonders if his lip is bleeding, “You look just about ready to start wreckin’ the place.”

Out of the corner of Roy’s eye, he sees Beard lean in to whisper in Ted’s ear and points over at you. Ted looks surprised. Roy does not want to deal with this.

“You’re telling’ me our very own Mr Kent has his eyes on our very own Miss Y/L/N? Well, that’s just great! She’s sweet as anythin’, good for you, Roy.”

“She’s sweet on Jamie fucking Tartt, more like,” he says, even though he knows he’s being so fucking unfair. He hates it about himself. He knows how hard he’s worked on these feelings, on frustration and anger and jealousy, knows that a few years ago he’d be getting ready to fight Jamie down an alley further through tonight. Now he’s done that work, however, he can recognise the overriding feeling that he’s actually just hurt and that’s so much worse. It’s much easier to be jealous than upset.

“Does this call for an impromptu meeting of the Diamond Dogs?” Ted asks brightly and Roy is only able to stop him after his second howl. Higgins has looked over briefly but Beard signals him to stay where he is.

“Fuck no,” Roy blurts out, then reconsiders. Maybe he could at least talk to Ted, “I just- I was going to tell her. Tonight.”

“Tell her what?” Ted’s doing that thing where he bats his eyelashes like he’s in some sort of rom-com. Beard’s got his head resting in his hand, looking similarly up at Roy. They’re insufferable. 

“That I fucking like her, okay? Take those fucking looks off your faces.”

Ted and Beard scramble to look normal but come up short. Ted’s got the awful kind of shit-eating grin on his face that he gets when he sees Sam and Jamie hugging or watches Isaac doing his handshakes with everyone before a game.

“So, you’ve been spending time together? Or are you telling her out of the blue?” Beard pipes up.

Roy thinks that over. You’ve been spending a lot of time together actually. More than anyone at the club would probably even believe. He slips away to your office to eat lunch under the guise of needing a break from the American Circus downstairs. You text him when you’ve brought in ice cream because you know he’ll never say no to ice cream. You’ve met Phoebe. That one was by accident in the park, but you stuck around for four fucking hours and nobody made you.

Still, he wonders whether it would be completely shocking to you or whether you’ve been waiting for him to make a proper move. You’re incredibly difficult to read alongside being so stupidly pretty that sometimes he wants to swear less around you. He doesn’t manage it, of course, but he thinks it.

“Yes, we’ve spent time together. No, I don’t know what that means. Probably doesn’t mean shit to her, not that it would be her fault if she doesn't.”

Ted and Beard tilt their heads simultaneously at him and he wishes he could bash their heads together for a moment.

“But it means somethin’ to you, hey coach? I don’t think Miss Y/N sittin’ with Jamie should stop you from tellin' her how you feel about ‘er, hey coach?”

Roy’s lost track of which coach Ted is even talking to, but Beard chimes in.

“Surely her spending time with Jamie should be all the more incentive to tell her. Find out how she feels. Get that crushing disappointment out of the way now. It’s only downhill from here.”

Roy raises a brow at him as Ted gives him a look. Beard sighs, then picks up his drink and seems to disappear. Ted leans into Roy.

“Him and Jane are on a break again, I’m sorry. Look I’m goin’ to have to go find him but he was right, until he wasn’t. Go get ‘er, Ross Gellar!”

And with that, Ted’s gone too, weaving his way through crowds of people until he’s lost to them. When Roy glances back in your direction, Jamie’s got Colin and Isaac beside him instead and you’re nowhere to be found. He sighs and stands from his barstool, making his way to the exit. Maybe he’d think about what Ted and Beard had said tomorrow: for now, he just wanted to go home.

Except for the fact that when he finally managed to push his way outside to breathe in some fresh air, he found you. Leaning against the wall of the club, with definite tears in your eyes, even under the dim street lamp light. He was going to murder Jamie Tartt, slowly, with rope and paint and suffering involved.

But he knew to take a slightly softer approach with you. If at all possible.

“Hey,” he says quietly, trying not to startle you. You're quick to look up at him, startled anyway, and he grits his teeth as he asks, “Are you alright?”

He doesn’t make any comment about what the fuck Jamie had done to you. Doesn’t think it would be received all that well. Again, he’s biting the inside of his lip harder than ever.

“Yes! Oh god, yes, sorry,” you’re blinking furiously. He admires your resolve when the nearly teary face is quickly replaced by that bright smile that makes him weaker in the knees than he already is, “Fuck, sorry. I’m all good. I’m not sure this is my scene, I was just going to call a taxi.”

There’s an opening. He’ll be damned if he’s not taking it, even though confessing anything is the furthest idea from his mind - he’s much more focused on making sure you’re okay and nobody’s done anything to hurt you. If they have, he's already resigned to a short stint in jail if necessary.

“Do you want to walk?”

“Uh, I mean not really. It’s quite late, so…”

“With me, I mean,” he quickly clarified, wanting to bash his head against the brick wall, “I could walk you home, if you wanted. Or not. That’s fine too.”

“Oh, right,” you’re looking down at your feet as you contemplate it, “That would be nice, if you’re sure. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” he insists, falling into step beside you as you begin to walk. He wants to give you his jacket and maybe his shirt too with the way you’re shivering, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He’s a fucking coward, but he will get to the bottom of what’s the matter if its the last thing he does, “You gonna tell me what’s wrong now?”

You huff out a frustrated sigh, at him, at yourself, he isn’t sure.

“I made a fucking fool of myself tonight,” you say eventually, and he can’t even imagine you doing that, “I thought…god, it doesn’t matter what I thought. Everything just feels worse when its…1:30 in the morning, don’t you think?”

You’d lifted his hand to check his watch before you said the time. Again, he wanted to hold on, but he let you drop his hand and it just went limp.

“It fucking does, yeah. Don’t think you could make a fucking fool of yourself if you tried though. Not around us lot.”

Your family, he heard Ted’s voice in his head. He was not fucking saying that. To his surprise, you let out a loud bark of a laugh at his words and he was staring at the side of your face as you spoke out into the dark air.

“I thought you were coming to pick me up tonight, you know?” you began, and his heart drops to his shoes. You’re upset about him?

“What?”

“Something you said earlier, when you asked me to come. You asked where I lived, then told me it would be a twenty minute walk to get there. Then you said ‘see you at seven’.”

He could have stopped walking. He had said that, but he was just trying to help you plan out your timings for the evening - you’d mentioned to him once that you were known for having some time blindness when you were getting ready for things. Of course he should have realised how fucking stupid that was, how much that sounded like he would come and walk with you.

He would have fucking loved to walk with you.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed, far too loudly for the quiet night that surrounded you. You carried on undeterred, shaking your head. He could see your frustration was at yourself now, and he hated himself even more than he had earlier.

“My fault for assuming, I know. But that’s why I was so late. And when I arrived, trying talk myself into not feeling like a twat, you were already over with Dani and Isaac and Bumbercatch, clearly never intending to come pick me up. Which, why would you, of course. I just…felt shit. Jamie tried to help, bless him, but I just wanted to go home, honestly.”

Roy is the biggest idiot on the planet. He wants to go back into the club and hug Jamie for looking after you, then ask him to punch him in the face. Roy could punch something, anything right now, but he just grits his teeth.

“I’m-” he grunts when his voice comes out all strangled, “I’m really fucking sorry, Y/N. I’m the fucking twat. I was asking where you lived and that to help you with that fucking time blindness thing you told me about. Should’ve known how it sounded though. Fucking idiot.”

He directed the last comment at himself, kicking a stone he’d found on the pavement. He kept his eyes firmly trained on his shoes as the two of you continued walking, now at a significantly slower pace. Your eyes were burning a hole in the side of his face.

There was a silence that stretched on as you stared at him, until-

“Fucking hell,” you groaned, “That’s so fucking sweet. You’re the worst.”

He doesn’t know if he can remember being called sweet before. Phoebe was often excessively complimentary of him in a way that made him uncomfortable, but sweet had never come up. He didn’t feel sweet.

“I am the worst,” he grunted, spiralling, “Making you feel so shit. Ruining your fucking night. I was the one who convinced you in the first place and now you’ve had a shit fucking time and I’m the worst.”

He’s a little out of breath and loud again by the end of his rant. The two of you have stopped walking. You kick the toe of your heel against his shoe, placating.

“No, you’re the worst ‘cause you keep giving me all this hope. I fucking hate hope, no matter what Ted says,” you chuckle to yourself, and he’s not sure what you’re saying but he’s peering into your now smiling expression as he tries to work it out, “Look, do you like me or not? You’re a good guy Roy and either way, I’m grateful that you’re walking me home. I just think if I ask, maybe I can just feel like a twat for the night and get it over with by tomorrow.”

“Do I…like you?”

He sounds thick. He feels thick. Feels like his mouth is full of honey that his tongue is having to wade through to even speak to you. It’s stuck to the bottom of his mouth, heavy.

“Yeah. As in, do you just enjoy eating lunch with me or do you ever look at me and just want to kiss me? Cause I do that all the fucking time, Roy, but I can’t be arsed to dance around it anymore.”

You look really tired as you stare up at him, but he feels more energised than ever. You’ve both just established that he’s the absolute worst, and yet here he is, with everything he could’ve wanted right in front of him. You, looking fucking gorgeous and looking at him like that? Even getting a job at Chelsea wouldn’t help him against you - he was gone.

There’s a smirk on his face that he can’t bite back as he takes your face in both his hands and revels in the gasp he can pull from you. He should have known you’d be the first to say something. You weren’t the coward he was.

“Let’s not fuck about then, yeah?”

Low and breathy. You respond with a nod so eager that he’s practically grinning when he pulls you in. It’s quickly replaced by a hunger he’s been keeping at bay, allowing his hands to slide into your hair as he deepens the kiss almost as soon as it’s started. He can feel your hands clutching at the lapels on his jacket, but he’s more excited when you throw your arms around his neck instead, tugging on the hair at the base of his head.

He growls and you actually whimper. It’s like he’s been set on fucking fire. Like he’s been struck by lightning.

When he pulls away for air, you stay close, peppering kisses along the scruff of his jaw, up the side of his face and back down again. He holds you to him tightly around your waist and feels wanted. He’s wanted you for so long, but to be wanted in return, so openly, it’s both hot and meaningful. He’s not sure anyone’s ever told him they liked him before. Most models he’d dated were pretty sold on the idea that he had to make all the moves.

Still, when you begin trailing kisses down his neck and there’s a hand on the top button of his shirt, he has enough sense about him to stop you. Even if he really doesn’t want to.

“I don’t know what street this is,” he breathes out, low voice little more than a rumble, “But maybe we don't give your neighbours a fucking show.”

You look thoroughly kissed when you look back at him, but he doesn’t think it’ll ever be enough. He leans in to kiss you once more to punctuate his sentence, watching as you duck your head, all shy, even though your arms are still around him. He knows now that when you ducked your head with Jamie, you were embarrassed. This is you properly flustered and it’s one of his favourite looks on you.

“Good call, yeah. Okay. I’m- I’m just around this corner, I think.”

“You think?”

“Shut up, you,” you whack him lightly on the shoulder, as the two of you resume walking, “Think you can make it all the way there?”

“I’d carry you if my knee wasn’t fucked,” he admits, watching you with a lopsided smile, “Really fucking like you, by the way. If that wasn’t proof. Thought you should hear me fucking say it.”

You close your eyes in a little half laugh - giddy, he thinks. 

“Well, I did wonder. We’ve spent a lot of time together the last few weeks for someone who doesn’t like spending time with people.”

“Your first clue,” he agrees, taking your hand with pride now as the two of you keep walking, turning the corner towards your house. The pace is a lot quicker than it was before. He hopes he knows why, “I’ll be less of a fucking idiot now. Promise.”

“Eh, don’t worry,” you shrug, letting go of his hand only to thread your arm through his and take hold of his hand again, even tighter, “Nothing sexier than fucking idiots. I like my men with no thoughts behind their eyes.”

He properly laughs at that, head tilted back, feeling your head against his arm as you laugh with him. You slow down, gesturing left. Your house. The two of you walk down the drive until you’re at the door, face to face again and Roy is having a small internal battle.

“Look, I know you said no show for the neighbours,” you begin, almost nervously, “But does that mean a…private show is totally off the table too?”

He watches you picking at your nails. Can’t help it. He pulls you in for another breathless kiss, just to watch you come alive again, confident and fucking into him, however much of a miracle it seems. You pull away this time, clearly keen for an answer, but he groans.

“Tryin’ to be a fucking gentleman, here. Why don’t we do dinner tomorrow? Proper date. And I’ll fucking pick you up.”

You giggle. Still, there’s a glint in your eyes, as you sigh melodramatically.

“That does sound nice. Only thing is, there could be an intruder in here, you know? So, and I’ll only ask once more and then I promise I’ll let you go if you say no, but maybe you should walk me to my bedroom? To make sure I’m safe, you know? And then you can pay for my breakfast in the morning like a good old fashioned gentleman, if you want.”

You’re looking up at him, all hopeful again. His resolve is dwindling. You spin your keys around one finger and its a simple gesture, but it’s the final straw.

“I’m paying for your fucking lunch too,” he growls, diving into you once again. He’s beside himself when he hears you mutter a faint ‘thank fuck’ as you fumble to unlock the door and all but drag him inside.

---

if you've read this far, i fucking love you, you beautiful sunflower <3 requests open for this angry man and his favourite jamie tartt if you're interested!!

[heygerald]

Falling Without a Harness - Chapter 6

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic one. When he actually starts to behave like a normal person, Parker is left to wonder if it's an act, or if the rest of him is.

Read the story here: prev / next

"Tom," Parker hedged ten minutes later, as the teams took their places in the arena. She was currently standing in the middle of everything, watching as her teammates discussed strategy, pointing to various platforms and inflatable shields whilst the white team did the same. She was relieved that Dan was on her team; his general height and demeanor boded well for engaging in (paint) warfare. Tom, on the other hand, didn't seem all that interested in anything as he fiddled with his phone. "Er, you've played paintball before right?"

He shrugged. "A few times, yeah."

"Right," she let out a breath of relief. "I'm going to follow you around then."

That caught his attention, and he glanced up from his phone screen with a frown. "What do you—no, don't do that."

"What? Why not?"

"Because you're a target," he said, matter-of-factly, and gestured to the paint already splattered down the front of her coveralls. "I'm not trying to end up looking like that."

"Wh—but—!" she blustered, popping a hip at him as she pointed out, "you're the one that shot me! And you don't look much better. And—I'm not a target anymore than you are. Don't be so sexist."

He scowled. "How is that being sexist?"

"You're just saying that because I'm the only girl on the team."

"No," he said, stooping down into her eyeline with an overly dramatic look on his face as he slowly and surely said, "I'm saying that because I'd bet you're awful at paintball, and Colt and the others are going to go for you first."

Parker's mouth dropped open as Tom tucked his phone away and started off towards a patch of haybales off to the far side.

It was a totally mean and unnecessary thing to say, and, worst of all, true. Parker sucked at paintball; sports in general. Colt knew this, as well as several of his friends that she had attempted to play beach volleyball with once, but there was no way that Tom knew that as well.

"Well, thanks for inviting me, Parker," she ranted, miming his deep voice as she followed after. "It's totally fun, I love it, you're too nice! That's what you should have said, by the way."

He cast her a dry look. "Are you done?"

She shot him a sour look, but...

Well, yeah, she was done. Rolling her eyes at him, she hefted her gun onto her shoulder, and leaned her back against the haybale. Her mask was still propped on the top of her head, coveralls only half zipped up as she languished. "Whatever. Do you really think you can shoot Colt?"

He arched a brow at her. "Is that really a question?"

"He's slippery."

"And an idiot. I'll shoot him."

"Do you ever get tired of having such a huge ego hanging over your shoulders or do you like the shade?"

Tom's only response was to roll his eyes and, at the sound of a warning whistle, pull his mask down over his face. He tensed, peering around the haybale as if this were serious, and—

Wait, hold on a minute. This was serious.

"Not to be that person," she chirped with a nervous glance towards the other team. "But if I were to be a target—"

The sound of a whistle blew loud, and within seconds paintballs started flying through the air. Parker shrieked, and plastered herself to the haybale.

Tom, now realizing he was stuck with a target at his side, sighed loud enough that she could hear it warbled through the mask. A flash of white as he rolled his eyes before, "for fuck's sake."

He pulled her mask down to cover her face before yanking her zipper the rest of the way up to her neck. Then, he shoved her gun against her chest.

"Just follow me."

"Oh," she breathed out, relieved. "Thanks."

"At least that way I can use you as a shield," he added, and the relief in her chest burst like a water balloon. Through her mask, Parker glared, and she was certain he could feel the heat of it. Another flash of white, another eyeroll as he slowly started ambling around the bale. "That was a joke."

Parker stood to her full height so she could properly jut her hip at him.

He, of course, ignored it.

But as the chit-chit-chit of paintballs flying overhead ramped up Parker was reminded that this was not the best place for judgement. She had already shot him once, after all, and if she stuck by his side perhaps she would get lucky enough to watch someone else shoot him as well.

When he disappeared around the corner she took a deep, calming breath and rushed after.

---

"Left."

"I know."

"Left!"

"I know!"

"Christ, fucking left!"

Parker paused in what she was doing, straightening to her full height so she could glare in exasperation at Tom, arms wide. "Do you want to do this?"

"I would, yeah," he responded with as much exasperation, though his wide eyes are hidden beneath his expensive sunglasses even though it was well into the evening now. "But it's still your turn!"

The pair are locked in a tense stare down when a third head pops into frame. Colt, his own eyes obscured by the overhang of his bucket hat, lifts his pointer finger with a meddling smile. "Not to rush you or anything—"

"Oh, shut up!" they both exploded at the same time, now turning their exasperation onto Colt.

It's uncanny how similar they look in that moment—wide eyes, frown lines, furrowed brows—and while Jody stuffs her laughter into her half empty can of White Claw, Colt responds by lifting his palms up in front of him with years of practice placating his sister. "...yup, that's my bad."

Together, they face one another, preparing to go again.

Only for him to promptly ruin the silence to add, "all I'm saying is you just have to get it—"

"Tom, I swear to god!" she hissed, struggling to focus on two things at once. He hadn't stopped backseat coaching her since the game started, and though she desperately wants to win, every time he speak the temptation to aim at him got stronger. But that would help nothing.

Swallowing down that frustration, Parker realigned her arm up, returning to the half-crouched position she had been in earlier, and once more practiced her swing.

"Alright," he mutters under his breath, shrugging as if he didn't care. But it's obvious that he does care, and for that very reason, he continues, "but I just think you should aim a little further to the..."

Parker swings her arm forward, sending her last bag arching through the air. It flipped several times, twisting bottom over top, before hitting the board with a heavy thud, teetering on the precipice of the hole.

The four held their breaths, watching, waiting, hoping that—

The bag stopped teetering, and the crowd let go of their breaths.

"Ha!" Colt shouted, letting out a whoop that likely could have earned him a noise complaint. He threw his arms up in victory, and Parker and Tom watched in miserable silence—him, arms crossed, foot tapping; her pinching the bridge of her nose—as Colt raced across the beach and hefted Jody up by the waist. "Winners! Winners! That's right everybody, win-ah-ers!"

"I told you to aim left," Tom muttered.

Parker dropped her hand to glance over at him.

She wasn't any happier about the loss—yet another one to add to their list of defeats over the evening—and the pair sported matching frowns as they were forced to watch her brother do a victory lap around the beach. Ever the graceful idiot, that one.

"I hate him," she said miserably.

Tom gave her an irritable side eye while shaking some overgrown fringe out of his eyes. "Well, if you had listened to me—"

"Oh, stuff it," Parker huffed, throwing up her arms. Colt had gotten halfway through his victory lap before his attention was stolen by Jean-Claude, and was now lying on his back as the dog licked him cleanly across the face. "You weren't any better than I was. I did all the hard work that round; sorry if I didn't get another three points."

Tom furrowed his brows crossly. "At least I hit someone during paintball," he snarked. He beat her to the retort by gesturing sourly to his own chest. "Someone that wasn't on your team."

"You still owe me five hundred bucks for that, you know."

"Sue me."

She narrowed her eyes at him, turning to face him fully, and though he towered over her quite a bit, she tried to not be intimidated. Easy enough when he still had blue paint in his hair. But, the standoff didn't last any longer than that; Parker was sore herself—both in spirit and body—after their paintball session, and her beer was getting disrespectfully low for a party.

So, she rolled her eyes with a huff. "You sure love lawsuits, don't you?" she chirped while making her way over towards the cooler.

It had been Dan's idea to have the afterparty on a small slice of beach on the edge of Hollywood acres; far enough away from the city to avoid the crowds, and close enough to everyone's houses that ubers or taxis wouldn't be too difficult to get. He had brought a few coolers of cheap beer, while a couple of the other guys had brought stuff to grill, and, though it certainly wasn't an expensive party, it was certainly a nice one.

Tom hadn't seemed all that convinced when they pulled up, of course, his standards being higher than everyone else's, but the longer they drank and ate, he seemed to loosen up a bit.

That is, until they lost yet another game. Parker would have blamed her shit aim on the drinking, but...

Well, she had always been better at smack talk than athletics.

"I love winning them, anyway," he said, following her.

Parker hummed while fishing out two beers. She cracked them both open, taking a long dredge of the first, before handing the second to Tom. "What is it like to be rich?" she mused.

He smirked at her. "It's pretty nice."

"Hm. I'm sure it is."

"Beats being poor."

"The servants and undying fans must be a plus."

"Well, they certainly don't hurt," he hedged, the corner of his mouth turning up after he took a sip of his beer.

She had noticed throughout their interactions that his mood seemed to be fluid; from pleased to bitchy in moments, always lingering on cagey indifference when no one was watching. As if he was always expecting some sort of criticism or veiled insult, and so he was always prepared to dish it out first. It was still baffling to her what his triggers were, but at the very least, he had seemed to be enjoying himself.

Mostly, anyway. Tom Ryder certainly was a sore loser.

"Not to say that I was the weak link on the black team earlier or anything, but I felt a little unprepared for how good everyone was today."

Tom pulled a face, scoffing. "You don't think you were the weak link?"

"Don't be an ass," she said, before tilting her head side to side in concession. "But, obviously. I'm not blind."

He smirked. "You sure? You were pretty awful for someone that talked so much trash. What happened to seal team six?"

"That was just a joke, obviously."

"You sounded pretty sure."

She rolled her eyes while plopping down onto an washed-up log. It was well into the evening now, and as the sun set on the horizon, a pair of Colt's friends were attempting to get a fire going.

"It was just some pre-game taunts," she told him, shifting as he sat down beside her—not before checking that the log wasn't going to stain his pants, first, of course—and Parker tried not to focus on how warm he seemed to be in the dying sunlight. "Everyone does it. You know, get the other team all jazzed up. I didn't mean it literally."

"You literally said, 'literally'," he deadpanned.

"Well—that's—that's just something people say!" she argued on her behalf. It wasn't at all convincing, however, and Tom arched a brow at her. Parker waved a hand at him, fighting back a snicker. "Whatever. Sorry I suck, but it wasn't just my fault. Jody shot me right in the tit!"

He laughed. "Yeah, I saw that. It looked like it hurt."

"Eh. Nothing more than my ego."

"You still have one?"

She snorted into her beer, and gave Tom a half-hearted elbow to the ribcage. He didn't seem to notice as he laughed into his own beer, however, and Parker would have bet she did more damage to her own bones than she did to his. "Not as big as yours, obviously, but it does exist. Just, you know, it's probably on life support."

To that, he let out a true laugh, and Parker couldn't help but grin when he shook his head at her. "You and Colt, Jesus. I swear you say the stupidest shit."

"Maybe you should try it sometime."

"Saying stupid shit?" he deadpanned.

"Not taking yourself so seriously," she corrected, swallowing down another quarter of her beer. It was only her third, and despite the fact that she had work in the morning, Parker was quite determined to get drunk with her brother. Seavers' sibling traditions, and all that. "I mean, I know that you're in the media a lot, but you just seem so..."

Tom shot her a warning look. Both brows arched into his hairline. "So?"

"Practiced," she finished, mirroring his look with a mock one of her own. The adjective clearly surprised him, and Tom twisted away from her with a scoff. Down the beach, Colt and Jody were standing with their feet in the tide, happy as all get out. "Which is crazy because some of the stuff you say is definitely going to get you cancelled one day by the working class, but most of the stuff you say just sounds like you're doing a bit interview with TMZ."

"You mean my job?"

"Oh, plgh," she blew a raspberry at him. "Whatever. I thought being a perk of being rich and famous meant you had immunity to say, or do, whatever you wanted."

"Whatever I want?" he drawled distastefully.

"Well, I mean, you treat people on set pretty awfully."

"I don't—"

"And you're always getting kicked out of clubs for partying too hard or being an ass or, actually," she frowned, frozen in thought, "I don't know how you get kicked out of a club, really. But I know you do. I've seen the, you know, tiktoks or whatever. Melissa's, not mine," she added quickly.

Tom finished his beer with a sour look. "You think anything about me gets put in the news that Gail doesn't allow to be there?"

Parker frowned. "I thought she was just your producer."

"Producer, manager, media agent," he listed off blithely, taking another long sip of his beer. When he finished it, he crushed the can in his hand, and stuffed it into the sand. "She handles everything for me. I think by now she has half of the news outlet in her pocket. Probably a good bit of Hollywood in general. Which, she should, given how much I fucking pay her. That's not even including movie revenues and bonuses."

"Oh," she said, not knowing what else to say.

Parker had known that Gail had helped Tom get his first big movie, and had stuck by his side since the beginning. But, in the way that Colt talked about it offhandedly, Parker had always assumed that Tom wanted Gail to be his producer because they were good friends. She hadn't ever assumed that their friendship was anything other than mutual, but if Gail Meyers really did control all aspects of Tom's life—professional and private—well... how mutual could that really be?

He had that look on his face again—brows furrowed, eyes downcast, jaw line clenched and shoulders tense—and Parker decided that any further questions she had about Gail could wait another day.

"Well, next year Colt is definitely getting a less violent birthday party," she said in a not-so-subtle change of conversation. Tom glanced at her sideways, and she forced something nonchalant into her tone. "Something that doesn't require any physical prowess. Maybe, a movie marathon or, like, a pool party."

He harrumphed. "Do you have a pool?"

"Hardy-har-har, no. I don't have a pool," she snarked. But, well, that was probably a good point. Parker turned to Tom in consideration. "Now, you wouldn't happen to have a pool at your—?"

"Don't even think about it."

"Oh, come on! I doubt you even use it."

"I use it plenty," he sniffed. Parker didn't give in so easily, however, and when she batted her eyelashes at him with a conniving smile, Tom shoved her lightly on the shoulder. She saw the smile he bit back. "You'll have to find someone else to host. I don't invite set hands to my house."

"See? That!" Parker laughed, pointing at him. "How have you not gotten cancelled yet when you say stuff like that?"

Tom, biting back a laugh, made a show of glancing around them at the empty space of sand. "Because I don't say stuff like that when I'm around people."

She remembered very clearly an offhand comment Jody had made to her at drinks, about how Tom Ryder was a complete idiot when it came to wearing his microphone. "I beg to differ," she taunted.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Hmmm, nothing," she snickered, deciding to keep that particular piece of information to herself. Besides, she wouldn't put it past Tom to get Jody in trouble for blabbing about him—nondisclosure agreements and all that. "Whatever. Maybe I'll take him to one of those fairs where you can learn how to do trapeze. I bet the daredevil would like that."

"He's certainly got the... flair of a gymnast," he said, and together they watched as Colt attempted to do cartwheels in the sand. He managed three in a row before popping up, grabbing the beer out of Jody's hand, and shot gunning the entire thing. He finished with a dazzling grin. "Alright, that's not bad, I'll give him that."

Parker snorted dryly. "Less so when he throws up doing it."

Tom, not questioning how she knew that, grimaced. "That's disgusting."

"Oooh, is throwing up on a beach too low-bro for you, Mr. Fancy Bathroom?"

To that, Tom pointedly grabbed her beer, and finished half of it in a single go. When he shoved it back into her hand, he added drolly, "hilarious, as always."

Parker thought she was hilarious, and grinned as she took a small sip of her beer. Besides, he didn't seem all that put out by the joke. Rather, he seemed quite at ease sitting there with her on the beach, no phone in sight. Or she suspected so, anyway.

It was always hard to tell with him.

Musing, she asked, "what do you normally do for your birthday?"

"What do you think? Gail throws a party."

"Fun."

"Yeah, it usually is," he said. Parker could picture it; a glamorous mansion, decorated out in whatever pompous theme they had decided on that year, giant photos of his face plastered throughout the building, a string of scantily dressed woman drifting throughout. "Open bars, cocktail waitresses, DJ Aoki."

She rounded on him with wide eyes. "Wait, seriously?"

"Usually, yeah."

She swung her glance around to the beach, watching as Colt's friends laughed and played hacky-sack and threw a frisbee, all slightly drunk, and most with paint in their hair. It was an intimate party, with something easy going and happy electrifying the air, but...

Well, it certainly wasn't going to beat DJ Aoki.

"Alright," she conceded, rolling her eyes at the overly smug smirk he shot her. "That sounds pretty fun, I'll give you that."

"Better than this."

"Hey!" she exclaimed, half serious and half in amusement. "Jody and I planned this for a while. Plus, this is exactly the type of thing that Colt would enjoy."

Tom made a face. "He certainly enjoyed shooting me."

"Oh, you noticed that, did you?"

"Hard not to," he groused. It was all to Parker's amusement, however, and while she tried to hide her laughter, she did a really bad job at it. "Oh, fuck off. You're lucky I don't have a photoshoot this week; I'm probably covered in welts. If I did, you can bet your ass that—"

"You'd sue me?" she taunted.

Tom's mouth ground together, obviously not having any retort, and in response she peeled forward in giggles.

"Fuck off," he said.

But, well, the longer that Parker laughed—beer quite clearly working its way through her system—the more the sour look he was wearing wore off. Until, eventually, the pair were giggling like teenagers.

"I totally could," he said anyway, if only just to re-insert himself as a rich asshole.

Parker hummed, still shaking in laughter, and leaned over to wiggle her brows at him conspiratorially. "Could, but... won't," she teased, cheeks well rosy red by now, and, honestly, she didn't even care. It was fun just joking around with him. "Some might even say that you're a big ole softie, Ryder. All talk, and no action."

"I'm serious," he said, and, well, he certainly looked serious as he bent towards her.

And while Parker probably should have focused on that fact—he absolutely could ruin her with a single lawsuit until she was desolate and on the street—but, now that the fire was going, her attention was stolen by the flickering light in the depths of his eyes. They were a lighter blue than she originally thought, not so icy as deep, and when set against the rich color of his skin and the blonde (natural, supposedly) hue of his hair....

Well—Tom Ryder wasn't just hot, he was breathtaking.

She knew she didn't look the same. She was rosy cheeked, covered in hues of green, white, and blue paint, smelling like paint lacquer and sweat, with the firelight surely darkening the already murky color of her eyes.

Still, she swore he leaned closer; swore his gaze swept over every bunch and inch of her skin as she did his.

It was odd, being that close to him, but nice too.

Nice and exciting and comforting and electric and—

"Oh, hey, there you are," Colt's voice, suspiciously chipper and high, interrupted them at the same time that his boots stepped over the log. He planted a hand on top of Parker's head to balance himself, the other not-so-subtly planting on Tom's shoulder, before plopping down into the few inches of log that separated them. Parker swatted his hand off of her head, while Tom smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt. "I've been looking everywhere for you guys, my buddies, my pals. What are we talking about over here?"

"Nosy older brothers," Parker snarked, giving him a what the hell? look when he smiled at her. "I thought you were with Jody. Doing summersaults or something."

"Ah, she's good. That one, always—always good—but I thought I'd spend some more time with you. Plus, think I pulled something in the hamstring, you know. Can't let that happen, got to stay in tip top shape for this guy over here," he gestured to Tom with a thumb, awkward smile in place. "I feel like we never spend quality time together any more, Park. What have you been up to?"

"In the twenty minutes since our game finished?"

Colt laughed—a little too hard for a joke that wasn't at all funny—before swinging towards Tom. This time he jerked a thumb in her direction, saying, "she's so, so funny, you know. Loves to make jokes. Loves them. But, you know, you don't like jokes, so if she's bothering you—"

"I'm not bothering him," Parker huffed.

Tom's gaze jumped between the siblings. "Yeah, no, she's fine, man. Hasn't called me an asshole yet, so, that's probably a good sign."

Colt threw his head back with a laugh, clapping. "Ha! Right! Because the first time you met, she called you an asshole. A lot. Three times, I think. Which—super not cool. I know how you are about being called an asshole," he kept on going, a strong emphasis on the word as if Tom had forgotten. "So, sorry about her. I think I mentioned that she's actually adopted."

"Oh my god!" Parker whined, throwing her hands up in frustration. Colt didn't seem to notice, however, and he just barreled on.

"Did you get a beer?"

Tom blinked between brother and sister. "Uh, yeah man, I had a beer."

"Finished it?"

"Yeah."

"Great," he clapped his hands, grinning, before slinging an arm over Parker's shoulder. "Since you're done, you probably want another one, right? Well, I need one too, so, we'll go get that for you."

"Uh—"

"No problem! Two seconds! You just keep sitting there stunning, Tom. Like you always do on set! God, what a hunk," he rambled on in a single stream of consciousness, patting Tom far too hard on the shoulder despite their strained work-friendship. It stunned Tom, and while he only blinked at his shoulder in shock, Colt shot him some finger guns. "Don't sweat it, bro. We'll be back!"

Colt hauled Parker onto her feet before she could protest, and dragged her off in the direction of the cooler. Dan shot the pair an odd look, but upon noticing the glower she was wearing, wisely decided not to get involved. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

"Colt," she hissed, ripping herself away from him as he started digging through the cooler like a rat in a trashcan. She swatted his bucket hat. "What the hell was that?"

"You want a Bud or a Coors?"

"Colt!"

"Oh, I think this is the last Coors, so, sorry, all out of luck," he continued rambling, studiously avoiding the way she was glaring daggers into his back. "Man, we sure drank a lot of beer already."

"Colt!"

Colt stood to his full height, beer in each hand, and paused when he finally caught tailwind of her sour glare. "What?"

"Don't what me!" Parker snapped, gesturing wildly over her shoulder to the general direction of Tom, before crossing one arm over the other. "Brother? My man? What the hell was that?"

"Not sure," he whistled, popping the tab open to take a dramatic breath. "I think it's probably an expensive cologne, but it definitely smells a little off. Can cologne go bad?"

He offered the second beer over with a look of wide-eyed innocence, as if he had no idea why Parker would be upset. And, well, even though she was immune to his puppy-dog eyes and wobbly lip, not even Parker would shit on the sanctity of a birthday.

Snatching the beer out of his hand, she shoved a finger in his face, "I'll let it go this time," she warned. "But I swear to god if you pull something like that again..."

"Oh, what, you'll shoot me?" Colt mocked, before tapping his temple as if something had just occurred to him. "Oh, that's right! You can't hit anything. I think you actually shot yourself once today, Park, so, uh, you know—I'm not all that scared."

Parker stared, eye twitching, as her brother gave her a smug grin.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I think there's a nice little English lady just waiting for someone to—!"

Colt Seavers may have been a muscular guy that knew how to take a hit, but he went down surprisingly easy when his younger sister tackled him around the waist.

---

"Red."

"Black."

"Okay, then up."

"Mhmm, no," Colt shook his head, frowning beneath the fringe and bucket hat, as he shuffled three cards in his hand. He peered at them all with half-lidded eyes. "Down."

"King?"

Colt held up a card, turning it to face Parker with a drunk grin. "Ha!" he shouted, holding the card high above his head—as if to put it on show for everyone nearby—before he gave her matching middle fingers. "Drink up, loser!"

His sister whined. She did not, in any way, want to drink up.

But, the game was the game, and so she tipped her head all the way back, beer pointed toward the sky, and finished it in three, long swallows.

Then, she flopped back onto the beach with a loud, dying groan.

Among it all, Jody leaned forward to snatch up the card that Colt had just abandoned. It was an ace of spades. With furrowed brows, she asked, "I'm sorry, but I don't quite understand how this game works."

"What do you mean?" Colt asked, peering over at her.

"Like, what are the rules?" she emphasized, a long sweeping gesture over the stack of cards, the two quarters off to the side, the ever-growing pile of empty beers, and then to the siblings.

The siblings that were now wearing matching looks of confusion.

"Rules?" Colt echoed with even more emphasis. His eyebrows were screwed up beneath the brim of his hat, and his eyes had a hazy layer over them.

"Oh, Christ," Tom rolled his eyes. He hadn't been interested in the slightest when the Seavers siblings proposed a round of playing, what they called, Calico In The Woods, but there hadn't been anything else to do than stoke the campfire, and so he had spent the last twenty-five minutes growing more and more confused by their nonsensical rules dictated almost definitely by who was the drunkest. "Is this even a real game?"

Parker, sprawled beside him, inched onto her elbows. "Of course it is," she said. The slight slur of her syllables wasn't exactly confidence bolstering, however. "I learned it at camp, like, ages ago."

"Camp?" Tom couldn't even imagine what sort of camp these two idiots would spend their summers at while growing up. "What sort of camp teaches this?"

Colt wagged a finger crookedly through the air. "Family camp, technically. All the relatives would meet up every summer and it was all tent poles and mosquitoes for seven straight days. It was more fun when we were still kids, didn't have to pay for anything, and just got shoved together with the cousins. Made for good drinking too."

"And they gave you beer when you were kids?" Jody asked in bewilderment. She had been drinking steadily throughout the night as well, but whereas Colt sucked down drinks like it was his job, she had been slowly nursing her latest one for the last forty-five minutes.

"When we were—come on, Jody, don't be ridiculous. Of course they didn't give us beer when we were kids. This is America, you know. We had to find it."

"And technically it was hooch," Parker interjected. It didn't surprise Tom in the least that they would have been drinking some garage-brewed hooch, and he flattened his brows at her accordingly. Parker only response was a careless laugh. "What? Not mine! Sam would always bring it. Or, steal it. Something like that."

Jody giggled from her spot in the circle, and the distant firelight made her smile sparkle. "I think I'm starting to understand the two of you better, after tonight," she mused.

Colt leaned forward. "Impressed?"

"That you're still alive? Immensely."

"Pshaw," he blew a raspberry, waving a hand at her. "It's what we do, isn't it? Surviving the stunts, jumping out of buildings, getting set on fire. Pretty heroic if you ask me."

"What he does, anyway" Parker said pointedly. At her side, Jody laughed. It was a tinkly sound, delicate, and very much her. She understood where her brother's infatuation stemmed from; Jody Moreno was a stunning woman, gentle and kind in every way. "I stopped jumping out of buildings when I was, like, six. The heroics didn't really do it for me."

"Afraid?" Tom asked.

"Mhmmmm.... just not stupid I think."

Tom made a noise halfway between a laugh and a cough. Parker heard it—hard not to when she seemed to always be tuned in to him—but if her brother did, he didn't comment on it. Instead, he was in the process of finishing his beer.

"Are you sure you should have another?" Jody asked.

"Am I sure that you should have another?" he shot back, completely ignoring her concern to grin madly at the group as he stuck his head into the cooler. "I think we should all have another. Yeah? A White Claw for m'lady. Stripe for m'sista. Tom, man, what you having?"

Tom blinked at him for a long moment, likely considering whether or not he even still wanted to be there, before giving in with a long suffering sigh. "Anything that's not shitty."

Colt glanced between Tom and the cooler silently. "Er, when you say nothing shitty," he hedged, a hand lifting to run through his hair. It promptly knocked his bucket hat off with a thump, but he didn't notice. "What's your opinion on Red Stripe?"

"Awful."

"Natties?"

"Worse."

The sound of ice and glass tinkled as he continued to dig through the cooler. "Corona?"

Tom, surprised at the option, shrugged. "Yeah, alright."

"Right, nice," he said, snapping finger guns towards Tom, before he returned his attention to the cooler with a dramatic sigh. "Thing is though there aren't any more of those, but—next time, next time I'll get some more. We do have a lime Bud Light? Domestic, I think. IPA, eh... maybe? Think they're organic, too, cuz that's a whole thing for you, right?"

Parker stuffer her lip between her teeth to keep from laughing, and swung towards Tom. His brows were drawn flat, shoulders tense, a cloud of irritation hovering over his spot in the sand. A string of giggles rushed past her mouth.

She slapped a hand over it just as quickly.

Tom heard it though, and as he glared at her, he just made an impatient gimme gesture to Colt with the flutter of his hand. Ice tinkled before a wet can was pressed into his palm.

"If you—you close your eyes," Colt continued nonsensically, "you won't even know the difference, my brother. Same thing."

"Yeah, I'll fucking get right on that."

Colt didn't hear the sarcasm and gave him a thumbs up paired with a grin. "Nice!"

Jody giggled as Colt flopped down beside her. Despite her judgement on the drinking, she cracked open the drink he gave her, and lifted it into the air.

"I think now's a proper time for a toast," she said, nudging Colt gently in the side. He beamed at the attention; going so far as to sit up straight and pull his shoulders back. "I am very happy we got to meet on set, and, erm, hope you have a good year. Yeah?"

His face was almost entirely a grin now. "That's—that's nice. You have a nice accent, you know. It's the vowels."

"The vowels?"

"Killer 'o's."

"What does that even mean?" Jody asked, laughing, which only seemed to please Colt further. Shaking her head at his antics, she turned next to Parker. "Parker?"

"Hm? Oh!"

In a rush, Parker moved from lying on her stomach to pulling her legs up underneath her. She teetered too far into Jody's space for a moment before overcorrecting into Tom's. He didn't complain, but righted her with a gentle palm.

It was warm against her skin, comfortable too.

There was a flicker of a memory—the bathroom, the taunting and teasing, and feeling of her hand rubbing soothing circles into his flushed back—before she was thrown back into the present. He was blinking at her; calm and indifferent, as if not a bother in the world other than the lime Bud Light in his hand.

With a little effort, Parker moved her attention to her brother.

"Er, Colt, obviously I love you and I love spending time with you," she started. It felt like an awkward declaration with everyone watching her, but her brother didn't mind in the least. His smile had softened at the edges into something reminiscent. "You're my best friend, and the only person that I would follow to the West Coast."

He laughed. It was an inside joke between the pair that Parker had no love lost for the West Coast. She didn't like the valley girl accents or the overpriced cappuccinos, but at the end of the day, it was worth it.

She shook her head a second time. "Anyways, um, happy birthday. Another year, another bender, huh?"

Colt waggled a finger at her. "Don't let Mom hear you say that," he said, before adding in a bad stage whisper to Jody, "Mom thinks I'm a bad influence on her."

To which Parker added in a stage whisper of her own, "he gave me my first cigarette."

"And I never heard the end of it."

They all laughed; starry eyes and sand warm skin as the evening air fell over them, before, naturally, their attentions moved to Tom.

Tom who, for the life of him, looked like he had just been thrown onto a stage without any clothes on. How someone could be an international super star and so awkward at the same time baffled Parker.

"Oh, uh, happy birthday," he managed with a flimsy nod. Then, when no one cheered to that—clearly expecting more—Tom added, "...you're a, um, good stunt double man."

Parker furrowed her brows at him, eyes widening ever so slightly in prompt, and after a moment his shoulders sank with an exhale.

"Honestly, you're really good at what you do, professional, and... you make me look good doing it, so, you know—happy birthday. I haven't forgotten that you introduced me to Gail, or whatever, so... thanks. Happy birthday, man."

Sensing that he was uncomfortable with the attention on him, and pleasantly surprised to hear Tom Ryder thank anyone was enough for Parker. She lifted her beer as high as she could, and gave a cry of "here, here" that everyone echoed.

When Parker sipped her beer, she glanced at the man beside her.

He didn't notice her gaze at first, but when he did, she saw him stiffen, fluffing his collar and raking a hand through his hair all in a choppy motion that she suspected were more robotic than anything else. He wasn't smiling like the others either.

Odd, for someone so used to the limelight to be uncomfortable with a couple odd attentions on him. But Parker was odd herself, and so she spared him grace where others may not.

"That was nice," she muttered.

Tom froze in his ministrations, before giving a harsh scoff. "Nice? Yeah, you're welcome. I usually get paid twenty grand for doing something like this."

"Attending a friend's birthday party?"

"Public appearances."

She hummed half-heartedly. It was sad to think that Tom would think of a small birthday party like this in terms of what sort of check he could be getting out of it, and she was having too much fun to be sad.

Colt's bucket hat caught her attention. She swiped it up before promptly plopping it atop her head. "Are bucket hats still a fashion crime?"

The question was only worthy of a side eye. "You look ridiculous."

Parker shrugged, grabbing the ends of her braids and wiggling them at him. There was still paint in her hair, as well as on her hands, and she supposed he had a point about her overall fashion sense. "What about now?"

The side eye lingered longer this time, swinging from the hat to her braids to her cross-eyed smile she was giving him.

Through it all, she caught the flicker of his smile.

Parker grinned. "I think you're just jealous of my hat."

"Colt's hat."

"I have a matching one," she said, twisting and turning to try and remember where she had left it. "I think it's in my car."

"Thank god for that."

Parker stuck her tongue out at him, at the same time that Jean-Claude came crashing through the scene. He kicked up sand over the both of them, a stick in his mouth as he danced back and forth on his front paws. Parker laughed—the dog, pervy or not, was pretty fricking cute—and as she wrestled with the stick in his mouth, there was a cry.

"Time for a picture! Come on, everyone gather round!"

Colt leapt to the front and Jody clambered closer at her side as Jean-Claude practically sat in Parker's lap, stick forgotten in exchange for some gentle head scratches. She would have bowled backwards if Tom wasn't there with his warm palms, and as the rest of the remaining group piled in around them, she smiled up at him.

He didn't smile back; just looked at her, eyes sweeping over the length of her face, the dimples in her cheeks, and the curve of her nose for a moment so long Parker swore it lasted forever. But then there was a countdown, and together they tore their attention off of each other and looked forward.

"...two... one... say cheese!"

There was the click of a camera and a flash as the party called out together. The party came back to life with that single photo giving everyone a reason to group back together. People she had forgotten were even there started handing out the last of the beers from the cooler, marshmallows appeared out of someone's bag, and as energy threaded through them like a shot of her cousin's mystery hooch, someone turned the radio up just in time for The Spins by Mac Miller to come on.

It felt like a movie as everyone hopped to their feet, drinks raised, fire casting shimmer light over their drunken, grinning faces while sparks drifted up into the stars overhead.

Colt danced with Jody, limbs awkwardly thrown forward and backward as the alcohol fueled their steps, and when Dan grabbed her around the waist and spun her, round and round they went, Parker threw her head back and shrieked with laughter. The type of laughter that had her chest heaving, face hurting from splitting so wide, every worry disappearing as they simply lived in the moment.

And, though the speaker was awful, and the beer was shitty, and their dancing was more so jumping in a discordant swing of limbs, and though the people weren't exactly the upper brow of Hollywood's finest or the rich elites that he was used to, Parker swore in the dim glow of the firelight, that Tom Ryder was grinning as well.

[schumigrace]

My life will, quite literally, never be the same.

I moved to the motorsport county for a multitude of reasons, but having Silverstone on my doorstep was at the top of the list.

The mileage counter in my beaten-up racing green Vauxhall has racked up most of it's digits on the A43 through Towcester, I can tell you the exact position of every road sign painted with a brown rectangle, a chequered flag next to the word "Silverstone". I could tell you which direction the track is in from anywhere in the world, as if it's Wing shaped roof hangs like a petrol-laden North Star. All roads lead to Silverstone, you may say (no-one has ever said this)

So, Grace, I hear you asking, how often do you go?

Never.

That is, of course, until I received an email from God herself (the Aston Martin F1 Team Marketing Analyst) informing me of my invitation to their AMR24 Launch. An invitation I very obviously accepted, after 24 hours worth of crying, screaming, and stalking said marketing analyst on LinkedIn to make sure this was not in fact some messed up kind of joke

So it's 7 in the morning, I'm doing my usual commute through the god-awful traffic hell that is Northamptonshire, only this time I'm not going straight ahead on the Silverstone Bypass, I am taking the ever elusive right turn into the brand new Aston Martin Technology Centre and being handed a visitor's pass

The first thing I notice is that they've only gone and put a bloody AMR23 (with the new livery) right in the middle of the lobby, it's covered up at this point, and I'm staring daggers through the cover just daring it to be riddled with carbon fibre underneath. AMR team members are floating around like green angels everywhere I look, shelves are adorned with this past year's trophies (I make a comment to a passing team member - "you'll need more shelves after this year", she chuckles and moves on - I try not to take this is a bad sign)

8 o'clock hits, the official launch video plays, and the cover is removed. jesus fucking christ she's green. thank fuck. I can go home now.

Oh, hang on, is that Mike Krack?

Shit it is.

Mike has a shakedown to run of course, so he doesn't hang around for too long. He's confident in this car though, they've been working on it for years, and he's sure we'll be quick out of the gate. Off he goes across the road to the garage. "Don't worry," they say, "you'll be going over to watch the cars on track too."

Sorry, can you repeat that please, I believe you just said we are going to go over to the track to watch the cars.

"Yes of course, but not before we ply you with cake and coffee, naturally, oh and also Pedro De La Rosa is here along with Jessica Hawkins. Do you want to chat to them?"

I ask Pedro where he and Fernando went to dinner last night. Somewhere in Oxford I think, I stopped listening, I was thinking about how much I would be willing to be a thir-

Anyway.

At this point no photos are allowed for the rest of the day, they are literally building the car right in front of you no you cannot put that on social media.

We're heading across the road now, along the Hamilton straight and up around Stowe, we head past the Porsche Experian Centre and I make some vague comment about Webbonso that nobody picks up on. Nevermind. We turn left just before Maggots and Becketts to head towards the pit lane, and into the Aston Martin garage.

The smell of petrol is so overwhelmingly strong and I make sure every single cell of my lungs is scarred from it. A batak machine is being set up and I joke "wouldn't it be funny if someone beat Jenson Button's world record today". Someone did, not even 5 minutes later. A wave of "get Jenson on the phone!" fills the garage.

I turn around, Stoffel Vandoorne and Felipe Drugovich are on a stage talking about how exciting it is to see the car, or at least they're trying to look excited. I'm not sure Drugo knows what that even means.

Lawrence Stroll is talking to a mechanic and I can literally hear the thousands of dollars dropping into his bank account with every heartbeat. Surely his son is nearby? Oh yes, right infront of us. Imagine that. (Lance did of course look gorgeous, his racesuit tied around his waist, laughing with his engineers like the whore he is)

We're heading over to the PU station now and the wonderful AM team member is talking us through the specifics of it, but I haven't heard a single word she has said, because unfortunately for her Fernando has decided to enter the garage at that exact moment. I am stood near a space heater, and he locks eyes on me (nope, the space heater) immediately. He makes his way over and sticks his backside directly towards the heater and my face is about as red as the radiator.

"Good morning! How are you?"

I have so many words to say to you right now, and not a single one of them is in a language that either of us can understand. I think I eventually vomitted up some form of acceptable response, however, because he smiled at me.

"Are you cold?"

"Only a little" I respond. Not anymore, I'm picturing myself under you, I think.

I totally lost a good hour after this because there's not a single memory here for me to put into words, damn you Alonso

The blur fades with the freezing air outside, and we're stood on the pitwall. Sky Sports are here now and have us doing media stuff, I run as far away from them as possible and climb onto the pitwall. FIA, if you're reading this, I promise I kept both feet on the ground at all times.

They tell us the shakedown isn't going to plan, suprise surprise, and you actually cannot see the car on track today. I mentally curl into a ball and sob the whole way back to the AMRTC but all of a sudden we are being led to mission control and the composite engineering stations and they are, literally, building a car infront of us whatthefuckishappening

By this point I have recovered from my minor sulk - Grace this is literally the best day of your life get over yourself - and then we're being told that as an apology they have hired a room in the Hilton Hotel opposite the pitlane, free food and drinks for as long as we want, oh and... cars on track. all. day. long.

Whilst writing this i received another email from biblically-accurate marketing analyst god asking for feedback. I think a string of letters indicating incessant shrieking will probably do the trick

[anothertransauthor]

hiya !! this is a bit of an odd request but is there any chance you'd be willing to write pickles x reader , where the reader has shied away from alcohol / substances all their life until they start embracing them after becoming close with pickles ? all good if not , thank you and have a great day !! o7

Oooh i kinda adore this trope ngl. keep coming with these bangers im so excited!

Only With You

Summary: Dethklok's newest babysitter has been observed to be quite the dildo. They never want to drink with them, smoke, or generally party with them in a significant way. Pickles opens his own investigation into them and starts to genuinely enjoy the time they spend alone. Maybe he'll lower their walls, and open them to some new mind-altering experiences.

Warning: obvious drug and alcohol use, as a general pot user I'm going to be as specific as possible. I'm going to make this as fluffy as possible but there might be some suggestive content. Reader has they/them pronouns

Word count: 2345

"What are you? Schome kind of fucking schquare?" Murderface quipped, a mischievous glint in his eye as he nudged Nathan playfully. "Yeah, come on, don't be a dildo," Nathan retorted, his deep voice rumbling with frustration as he batted Will away from him.

Their banter filled the cramped bar, the air heavy with the scent of stale beer and cigarette smoke. Neon lights flickered overhead, casting a dim glow on the worn-out furniture and peeling wallpaper. As the tension between Murderface and Nathan escalated, Toki attempted to intervene, his gentle voice drowned out by Skwisgaar's disdainful remarks about both of them being a "lady dildos." The atmosphere grew increasingly tense, their argument blending with the other patrons' raucous laughter and clinking glasses.

Feeling overwhelmed, y/n glanced around the bar, a headache forming from the noise. Just as they were about to suggest leaving, Pickles came to the rescue, a mischievous smirk on his lips.

"I know a quiet spot; let's dip while they're distracted," Pickles suggested, his voice low and inviting. The air was heavy with the scent of cigarette smoke and distant laughter, creating a hazy ambiance that enveloped them both.

Y/n hesitated, a flicker of concern crossing their features. "I don't know, Charles might kill me for leaving them by themselves," they replied, their voice tinged with uncertainty.

Pickles waved off their concern with a casual shrug. "He'll get over it as long as they don't drive. Then again, they wouldn't leave without me. So therefore, we can hang out in a cool alleyway while they drink themselves to the ground."

With a sigh, y/n bit their lip, their mind racing with conflicting thoughts. Despite their hesitation, the allure of escape beckoned, tempting them to leave the chaos of the bar behind.

After much internal debate, y/n finally nodded and walked with Pickles into the alley. It was nothing spectacular, but the relative quietness offered a welcome respite from the clamor of the bar. The cool wind brushed against their skin, causing goosebumps to rise on their arms.

"So uh...this is where you run off to when they get loud," y/n remarked, their breath forming wispy clouds in the frosty air. "Shoulda known to check the alley."

"Aww, you look for me?" Pickles teased, his voice laced with amusement as he pulled a joint from his pocket.

Y/n watched in awe as Pickles took a long drag, the smoke swirling around him like a halo. The air was thick with the scent of cannabis, earthy and pungent, mingling with the sharp bite of the night air. "For as much as you brag about being rich, you think your lighter could use an upgrade?" y/n teased, their voice laced with amusement.

"Eh... this lighter and I have a history," Pickles chuckled softly, leaning against the cold brick wall. "I smoked my first ever blunt with this Zippo... would you believe I stole it from my dad?"

As Pickles continued to talk about other crazy stories, y/n found themselves drawn in by his easy charm and effortless charisma. They watched as his fingers traced over the worn metal, the flickering flame casting dancing shadows on the alley wall.

"Yeah...I believe it," y/n replied, their voice soft with admiration. "So you've been smoking a long time, huh?"

"For as long as I can remember, y'know, before I got into the other shit," Pickles admitted, nudging a crate beside him. "You've been standing a while; you should sit."

Their body moved instinctively, gravitating towards Pickles as they settled onto the crate beside him. With a sigh of relief, y/n felt the tension begin to melt away, replaced by a sense of calmness in Pickles' presence.

The silence between them was almost palpable, the only sound the soft rustle of the wind and the occasional clink of cans on the ground. Despite their attempts to enjoy the tranquility, y/n couldn't shake the nagging feeling of restlessness that gnawed at their mind.

"Wow..." they laughed awkwardly, their fingers fidgeting with their sleeves. "A whole five minutes without being asked to partake...must be a new record."

"No sense in pushing it; it's a waste of good pot," Pickles remarked casually, his demeanor relaxed and nonchalant. "Besides, the first high will be shit if you don't know what you're getting into."

Y/n nodded in agreement, their gaze drifting down to their hands. "You just make it look so easy..."

Pickles tilted his head, the crimson strands of his hair falling over his shoulder as he regarded y/n with a knowing smile. "Make what look easy?"

"Everything!" y/n blurted out, their words tumbling out in a rush of emotion. "Just...everything you do is effortless. You make it look so easy to talk to people and operate under pressure like nothing affects you. I want to relax, and I want the rest of the band to like me...and I shouldn't be rambling right now, but it's like I can't stop myself because my brain just won't—"

"Shut up?" Pickles interrupted gently.

Y/n blushed brightly, their cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "S-sorry..."

"No...like your brain just won't shut up? I get it. Hell, why do you think I smoke this stuff?" Pickles reassured them, nudging them with his shoulder. "It's not easy being so laid back; it takes practice."

"Practice?" y/n echoed, their curiosity piqued.

Pickles nodded, his gaze steady and unwavering. "Gotta practice not worrying what other people think. I'm fucking famous; who cares what nobody at the bar has to say? It's vain, I know, but it works. It's easy to be friends with people when you can shut off that little nag in the back of your head. You just have to stop assuming people are out to get you."

Y/n nodded in understanding, their thoughts swirling as they absorbed Pickles' words of wisdom. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, the silence punctuated only by the soft sound of their laughter and the occasional drag of the joint. Despite the cold, y/n felt a warmth spreading through them, a sense of peace settling over their troubled mind. As they sat side by side, y/n couldn't help but admire Pickles' easygoing demeanor and the way he seemed to effortlessly navigate through life's challenges. For a moment, they forgot about their worries and insecurities, lost in the simple pleasure of his company. And as they took a hesitant puff of the joint, feeling the smoke fill their lungs and the tension melting away, y/n realized that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

Their eyes wandered over Pickles, taking in every detail with an almost reverent appreciation. Each freckle, every smile line, and the faint scars that adorned his skin told a story of a life well-lived, adding to his allure in the dimly lit alleyway. Despite the chill in the air, the warmth emanating from Pickles enveloped them, comforting and reassuring like a soft embrace.

As they sat there, a thought lingered in their mind: why was everything about him just so perfect? His casual demeanor, his effortless charm—it all seemed to come naturally to him, effortlessly captivating those around him.

Caught off guard by Pickles' quizzical expression, y/n felt a blush creep into their cheeks as they realized they had been caught staring. But Pickles' playful demeanor quickly put them at ease, his snicker breaking the tension that hung in the air.

"You see something you like?" he cheesed lightly, dramatically waggling his brows.

"No- I mean yes- I mean- shit.... uh-"

"Relax, I'm messing with you," Pickles chuckled, his voice laced with amusement. "I gotta teach you how to flirt."

"Heh...um, actually, I was maybe wondering if I could try..." y/n trailed off, their gaze flickering towards the burning joint in Pickles' hand.

"Holy shit, you actually wanna smoke with me?" Pickles exclaimed, genuine surprise coloring his tone.

"Well...kinda. Maybe it won't be so overwhelming if it's with you..." y/n admitted, their nerves beginning to dissipate in Pickles' reassuring presence.

"I'll take care of ya, don't worry," Pickles reassured them, passing the dutchie with a gentle hand. "Don't try to show off, ok? Baby hits..."

After calming their shaking hands, y/n carefully placed the joint between their lips, their senses heightened as they inhaled deeply. The taste was harsh, earthy, and unfamiliar, causing their shoulders to tense with each choppy cough.

"Deep breath. You're gonna choke no matter what, you got virgin lungs. 'S normal," Pickles reassured them, his voice gentle and reassuring.

"It tastes like dirt..." y/n grimaced, their discomfort evident in their expression.

"Well, it's weed; it's gonna taste bad," Pickles shrugged, his easygoing demeanor soothing y/n's nerves. "Take one more, then pass it back."

With a nod of determination, y/n took another deep breath, the smoke swirling around them in ethereal patterns. Despite the initial discomfort, a sense of calm washed over them, easing the tension in their shoulders and allowing them to relax fully in Pickles' company.

Pickles extinguished the joint with a flick of his wrist, the ember sputtering out as he tucked the carton back into his pocket. Leaning back against the cool brick wall, he regarded Y/n with a curious expression. "So, short stuff, how do you feel?" he asked, his voice tinged with genuine interest. Y/n raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in their eyes. "You're one to talk," they scoffed, a small smile playing at their lips. "I feel…slow, but in a good way. Like, I can finally think clearly, funnily enough."

"Yeah?" Pickles raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Yeah...is this how you feel constantly?" y/n returned the question, genuinely curious about Pickles' experience.

"More or less," Pickles snorted, kicking around some cans on the ground with a lazy gesture. "I could get used to this," y/n mused, a sense of contentment settling over them like a warm blanket. "It feels…easier to talk as if a barrier was temporarily moved to the storage room of my brain. This is nice. Thanks, Pickles." "Hey, any time," Pickles replied, a genuine smile gracing his features. "You remind me a lot about myself, actually."

Y/n tilted their head curiously, they scooted closer to Pickles, craving his warmth in the chilly night air. "How so?" they asked, their voice soft and curious. Pickles paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he considered his response. "I used to worry about how everyone perceived me," he began, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. "I was always so…strung up, like the world was out to get me." He chuckled softly, the sound rough and raspy in the stillness of the alley. "I know I'm nothing but a pampered, rich airhead," he admitted, his gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to meet y/n's eyes. "But I know this job keeping us out of trouble isn't exactly the easiest. If no one else is on your team, you can relax knowing that the world's best drummer is." Y/n felt a flutter in their chest, their cheeks flushing as they met Pickles' gaze in the dim lighting. His words were simple, yet they held a profound depth of meaning that resonated with them. "Pickles, I—" they started, their words catching in their throat as they struggled to articulate the whirlwind of emotions. They leaned away slightly, suddenly self-conscious about intruding on his personal space. But before they could retreat too far, Pickles grinned cheesily, his eyes sparkling with warmth. "Geez…you really are the coolest," they blurted out, a shy smile tugging at the corners of their lips. Pickles' grin widened, his laughter echoing off the walls of the alley. "You think?" he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

The air between them crackled with anticipation as y/n struggled to find the right words, their gaze locked with Pickles' in an unspoken exchange of longing and desire. In that moment, everything else faded away—the noise of the city, the chill of the night air—leaving only the two of them, suspended in time. Pickles waited with bated breath, his heart pounding in his chest as he silently urged y/n to speak their truth. He could see the turmoil in their eyes, the raw vulnerability laid bare, and he felt a surge of tenderness wash over him.

Finally, y/n took a deep breath, their voice trembling slightly as they found the courage to voice their feelings. "Everything about you has always been cool," they began, their words soft and hesitant. "I wish I could say I was jealous, but…I don't think that's it." A flicker of understanding passed between them, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken attraction that had simmered beneath the surface for so long. Pickles' heart soared with a newfound sense of hope, his gaze never wavering from y/n's as he silently encouraged them to continue.

"Oh?" he prompted, his voice gentle but filled with anticipation. He knew what they were about to say, could feel it in the way their gaze lingered on him, and he silently willed them to take the leap. Y/n hesitated for a moment, their mind racing with a new uproar of butterflies. But then, with a surge of determination, they pushed aside their doubts and fears, allowing their heart to lead the way. "How do I say this…" they trailed off, their voice barely above a whisper. "Other than I just don't want tonight to end…" And in that moment, the weight of their confession hung heavy in the air, the tension between them palpable. But before either of them could say another word, Pickles closed the distance between them, his lips capturing Y/n's in a tender kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as they melted into each other, the world fading away until nothing was left but the warmth of their embrace. And as they pulled away, breathless and exhilarated, y/n felt a sense of peace settle over them, knowing they had finally found the courage to speak their truth. "Me neither," Pickles whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of longing and affection. "Let's make tonight last forever."

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ok that took a really really long time. now time to go back into my writer whole. Leave more requests for me :DD

EDIT: HI so for some fucking reason in the translation from docs to tumblr, half of the fucking fic was just OMITTED. HOW DID I NOT NOTICE UGHHHHH im so sorry yall if the pacing felt weird. thats what i get for not proof reading before i post but i was SO EXCITED to have another bomb fic doneeeeee.