#long caption because i put Thought into this thing

[snail-day]

Packing for a beach trip right now and it's got me thinking about SatoSugu on trips.

I'd imagine that, Suguru does all the planning. Lets you pick out all your little outfits - bikinis, coverups, cute little sundresses, and folds them neatly into your shared suitcase. He even sneaks in one outfit he picked out himself, something that coordinates with what he and Satoru are bringing. “For family pictures,” he murmurs, not looking at you, and you don’t have the heart to tease him when you catch the soft flush on his cheeks.

(He absolutely scrapbooks. Has little captions under Polaroids like Baby's first beach trip, and Satoru tried to catch a seagull. Mothers so hard and denies it harder)

You’re sprawled out across the bed, bally down as you scroll on your phone, Suguru sits cross-legged on the floor in front of two open suitcases. Occasionally, holds something up and asks, “Are these shoes okay for walking?” or “Can I put your jewelry with my stuff, don't want it to get lost, y'know?” Always so thoughtful and careful with your things. He folds all of Satoru’s clothes too - meticulously, even though Satoru will inevitably wrinkle them within twenty minutes, and throws in an extra pair of glasses just in case. Even a little sun hat for you.

Your job, along with Satoru’s, is to handle the little travel essentials: snacks, toiletries, chargers, the fun stuff. Satoru loves going to the store with you. Gets to nudge your arm with his, steal quick kisses when no one’s looking (and when they are), and hold up items like, “Think Suguru would like these?” or “Ooo, should we get him a book for the beach?” You both go wildly off-list, of course. New towels? Absolutely. Sandcastle tools? Necessary. A novelty kite shaped like a jellyfish? You know exactly who’s going to be holding that string from a lounge chair while you and Satoru dive into the waves.

On the actual trip, whether it’s a plane, train, or long car ride, the seating arrangement is always the same. You get the window. Suguru takes the middle. Satoru sprawls out in the aisle seat. That order isn’t negotiable. Suguru insists he just prefers the middle, but you know it’s because he doesn’t want strangers brushing up against you. He’s still working on that possessiveness thing (his words, not yours). And Satoru, well - he has to be on the aisle. Says it's for his long legs and so he can ensure everyone is safe. Mostly it’s because he likes to go fetch snacks.

Once you arrive, it’s pure bliss. Suguru likes to relax. He spreads out under an umbrella with a book and takes photo after photo of the waves, of you and Satoru tangled up in salt-soaked towels, of his sandals half-buried in sand. He takes selfies too, pulling you into frame with a kiss to your your cheek and waving Satoru into the shot with the sweetest smile. He’ll ask a stranger to take a full group picture and makes it his lock screen later.

Satoru, on the other hand. He spends the day chasing you into the surf, tossing you over his shoulder despite Suguru's protests (You're laughing! What's the harm?), and twirling you around until you’re both breathless and sun-drenched. Suguru watches from his spot on the sand, sunglasses reflecting the sea. You’ll find him smiling to himself every time he catches you looking his way. He will give a little wave. Vacations are his favorite times with you both <3

[violentthingsss]

a necklace inspired by amc’s the terror! 🐻‍❄️⚓️🌊 it’s occupied my every waking thought this past month so i wanted to craft something to express how much it’s moved me

all of the references i included + more pics below!

details!

• anchor hanging below everything and chain ‘rigging’ above to imitate the structure of a ship. lots of chain throughout (edward little’s final scene! crozier chained to his men in tuunbaq!)

• erebus and terror stuck apart from each other

• the one and only tuunbaq, and the lesser-appreciated neptune and jacko. The Creatures

• rocky beads for the cairn and shale. many ocean wildlife beads for the maritime Vibes and as a tribute to goodsir

• an ice layer of blue and white faceted beads, and ice hanging off the rest of the necklace as a reference to the fact that It Was Cold

• forks for blanky, and a bird charm for jopson’s iconic ‘can anyone tell me if they also see that bird’… my beloveds

• fire charm for carnivale (worst party everrrr)

• moon and stars for the endless arctic night

• lemon charm at the clasp to ward off scurvy

• compass for the northwest passage that they failed to find

…and a general sense of wonky chaos, unease and doom! this was about 12 hours of work and a true labour of love <3 your thoughts are appreciated

[drowxiv]

Lieutenant Part 2

[splatfest]

18, 20, 23 (Music asks) <3

from the year that you were born (2002):

+ headfirst for halos - my chemical romance + the fix is in - ok go

that has many meanings to you:

+ cable through your heart - bryan scary

that you think everyone should listen to:

+ sad boys - dazey and the scouts + saturdays for the boys (saturdays for the boys) - 1 trait danger

[cheftsunoda]

beauty and brains

(part four)

smau + real life

warning : very very wordy

“lando takes a trip to visit jules while she is in the midst of a 24 hour shift and the twins celebrate a birthday..with a few surprises."

(I received several requests on a few little plot lines to add so I tried my best to incorporate all)

Charles Leclerc x !Doctor Sister Reader x Platonic F1 Grid

Leclerc Reader x Lando Norris

part one here:)

part two here:)

part three here:)

part five here:)

 tag list : @klauslovemepls , @omgsuperstarg , @msliz , @samanthaofanarchy , @mayax2o07 , @goldenstrawberryx, @hannahmotors10 , @alireads27 , @1800-love-me, @htpssgavi , @cmgmikealson, @babygirl-4986 , @star73807-blog, @glow-ish, @just-tingz-virgo, @majapapaya4, @lina505

—

dr_jules_leclerc added to her story!

{caption 1 : only 12 hours into this 24 and im already falling asleep - SEND HELP} {caption 2 : help has arrived—thank you lando}

seen by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 & 4,368,468 others.

charles_leclerc : I thought you said no visitors allowed at work…

charles_leclerc : arthur is upset

dr_jules_leclerc : oh I wasn’t specific- im allowed visitors I just put you both on a no visitation list

charles_leclerc : that is so rude - what did we ever do?

dr_jules_leclerc : where the both of you are- chaos ensues + I do not need distractions

charles_leclerc : ignoring that first part- but is lando not a distraction?

dr_jules_leclerc : he is a permitted distraction because he brought gifts

charles_leclerc : if I buy you that birkin you were talking about - will you take me off the list?

dr_jules_leclerc : ….yes…bubblegum pink with palladium hardware..thank you charlie

charles_leclerc : perfect😁 anything for you, princesse.

oscarpiastri : lily and I will take some of the credit for the flowers- we helped him pick them out.

dr_jules_leclerc : you know me so well, loves. thank uuuu

arthur_leclerc : sooooo since charles is off the ban list does that mean i am too?

dr_jules_leclerc : no because you will be here every day and I will never get any work done.

arthur_leclerc : sorry for loving my sister jeez 🙄

arthur_leclerc : …what if I bring lunch everytime?

dr_jules_leclerc : …okay..fine

—

lando added a post to his story!

{caption : found this really pretty lady at the hospital and now she is showing me really cool things - BEST DAY EVER}

seen by charles_leclerc, ciscanorris, flonorris1 & 2,368,354 others.

charles_leclerc : she is the best

lando : she really is, i love watching her do something she is so passionate about.

ciscanorris : I am glad you are finally learning something because I know you didn’t pay any attention in school. Tell my daughter I said hello and love her bunches!

lando : will do- no love for me? 🤨

ciscanorris : Don’t be dramatic, Lando. I birthed you- you automatically have all my love instilled into you.

flonorris1 : never thought you’d end up with anyone as cool as her

lando : me neither

—

I was on hour eighteen— out of 24.

My scrubs were wrinkled, my hair had been up and redone twice already, and my eyes burned from staring at the same three charts for too long. I had barely eaten, my feet ached, and there was a little knot forming at the base of my neck from the stress of balancing five pediatric oncology cases—each one heavy, each one pulling at a different part of my heart.

I was halfway through a progress note when someone knocked softly on the doorframe of my office.I looked up from my computer screen and froze.

Lando.

He was wearing a hoodie, joggers, and sneakers that were entirely too clean for hospital floors. He had what looked like 3 bouquets and some balloons, and a familiar little grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. The one he always saved just for me.

“Hi, doctor,” he said quietly.

My whole body exhaled.

“Lan—what are you doing here?”

He held up the flowers like they explained everything. “Bringing you something to brighten up your day. I can’t imagine a 24 hour shift with several different cases is very fun for you, love.”

I blinked, then set the paperwork down and stood, crossing the room in just a few steps before wrapping my arms around his waist. He hugged me back instantly—tight, warm, steady. I let yourself melt into it, just for a second.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here,” I murmured against his chest.

“I wanted to,” he said. “You take care of everyone else. I just wanted to take care of you for five minutes.”

He pulled back gently and handed me a small bag. Inside was my favorite wrap, a bottle of coconut water, and a pack of chocolate-covered almonds I always kept in my locker but had run out of days ago.

“Eat up, Doc. I know you haven’t eaten all day.”

My chest squeezed.

“You remembered all of this?”

“I pay attention,” he said with a soft shrug. “Especially to you.”

I sat with him in the office for ten stolen minutes, half-laughing through my exhaustion as he made dramatic faces while trying to sip from the tiny espresso cups meant for the staff.

At one point, my head dropped onto his shoulder and he just let it stay there, fingers tracing light circles on my back.

“I don’t know how you do this every day,” he whispered.

I closed my eyes. “Some days I don’t either.”

“But you still do.”

He looked at me then—really looked. No makeup, hair undone, emotionally and physically worn down to my edges—and he thought I had never looked more beautiful.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

I huffed a tired smile. “Tell me that again after I’ve slept.”

“I’ll tell you every day if you let me.”

I turned to him, and for a second, the hospital faded. There was just Lando. Kind, thoughtful, mine.

And in that moment, you didn’t need the flowers or a grand speech. You just needed this-

Someone who showed up when it mattered.

Someone who saw the hard parts and still stayed.

Someone who brought food to a hospital at 9 p.m. because he loved me.

A light knock on the door interrupted our moment of peace. I nodded towards my assistant who opened the door gently.

“Sorry to bother you, Dr. Leclerc - both of your brothers are downstairs and are requesting to come up and see you.” She said and I smirked to myself with a small sigh.

“Let them up- why not?” I said with a small chuckle and set my head back on Lando’s shoulder.

Within minutes, there was a knock on my office door and Arthur and Charles came barreling in. A giant orange bag in Charles’ hand that read ‘Hermes’. Charles held it out with a big smile on his face.

“For you, princesse.” He said eyeing lando and taking a seat across the desk from me.

“Charles- it is 9 at night how the fuck did you even get this?” I said with a huge smile on my face as I unboxed the purse.

“I have my ways and my connections and as I said- anything for you.” He said, watching me open the box with joy.

“You just had to show up my gift, huh?” Lando said with a smirk.

“What can I say?” Charles shrugged.

“No, this is only here because it is the only way Jules would take Charles and I off the ban list.” Arthur said and I chucked to myself.

“Either way- it is much appreciated, my loves. You have made this shift considerably less miserable for me. I love it, thank you.” I said and stood pulling Arthur into a hug- he left a kiss on my cheek. I then pulled Charles in and his head rested on top of mine for a small moment.

“You are our superhero, Jules. All of ours.” Arthur said and charles and lando both nodded.

“I love you all, so much.”

—

Finally- hour 24 of 24 had ended.

The fluorescent lights still buzzed. My sneakers still squeaked faintly against the tile. But the chaos had dulled into that familiar post-shift stillness—an exhaustion so deep it lived in my bones.

I stepped out of the elevator, rubbing my temples, and there he was.

Lando. Sitting in the waiting area, hoodie hood up, legs stretched out, phone forgotten in his lap. Asleep, but barely. The second my steps slowed near him, his eyes opened like he knew.

“You stayed,” I whispered, throat tight.

He blinked once, then smiled, soft and sleepy. “Of course I did.”

I stared at him for a second—this boy with messy curls and too much heart, who waited hours in a hospital chair just to take me home. Something cracked a little in my chest.

“I told you to go,” I said, not unkindly—just overwhelmed.

“And you never listen to me when I tell you to rest,” he said, standing slowly. “So I figured we’re even.”

That made me laugh, tired and watery.

Without a word, he reached for my bag, threw it over his shoulder, then carefully tugged my hand into his. His thumb brushed gently across my knuckles as he led me outside, into the cool night air.

I was silent until I reached the car, the kind of silence that buzzed with everything I couldn’t say yet.

But when I sat down—door shut, the outside world finally muffled—I turned to him. And the words just came.

“You know how many people see this version of me?” I asked softly.

He glanced over. “This version?”

“The tired one. The one who’s had to deliver shit news and hold her emotions together in front of a ten-year-old who’s too brave for her own good. The one who didn’t get to cry during the bad scan. The one who forgot to eat and barely held it together when a patient’s parents broke down in the hallway.” I exhaled. “This version.”

Lando didn’t rush to respond. He just looked at me, eyes soft, voice even softer.

“I want to see every version.”

My throat caught.

“Not just the one in the hoodie I love. Not just the one who dances in the kitchen or teases me about being dramatic on race weekends. I want all of them. Even the hard ones. Especially those.”

I blinked fast, swallowing the knot rising in my throat.

“Tonight was hard,”I said, voice cracking.

“I know,” he whispered, already reaching across the console, thumb brushing under my eye where a tear slipped out. “But you’re not alone anymore, okay?”

I nodded once. Then again.

He leaned over, kissed my forehead, and whispered into my skin: “Let me be your soft place to land.”

And I knew—he already was.

—

time skip - 8 months - leclerc twins birthday

—

dr_jules_leclerc made a post!

liked by leclerc_pascale, alexandrasaintmleux, arthur_leclerc & 4,368,243 others.

dr_jules_leclerc : Happy birthday to my twin—my first friend, my forever teammate, and the one who just gets me without even saying a word. From day one, we’ve shared everything—our childhood, our dreams, our weird inside jokes, and all the highs and lows in between. There’s something so rare and special about growing up with someone who’s been right there beside you every step of the way. I’m so proud of the person you are and so lucky to go through life with you as my other half. Here’s to more adventures, more laughs, and more memories we’ll never forget. Love you always and endlessly.

—

charles_leclerc : mon chèri —you already made me cry this morning on the phone and then you post this. i am so proud of you and the amazing person you have become. you continue to make me so proud every single day. you are a superhero to me and to so many others. i am so blessed to have you. love you forever

liked by author

alexandrasaintmleux : my two favorite humans on the planet—happy birthday. i love you both so so much and I cannot wait to celebrate you both. 🤍

liked by author and charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc : Merci mon ange. Je t'aime jusqu'à la lune et retour.

dr_jules_leclerc : oh my alex—i love you forever and ever. thank you for being the sister i never knew i needed 🤍

arthur_leclerc : I’d be so lost without you guys. I look up to you both and you have been the biggest inspiration to me. I love you both. Happy Birthday!

liked by author and charles_leclerc

dr_jules_leclerc : love you Thur— thank you for the flowers this morning 🥹

leclerc_pascale : 💋❤️

liked by author and charles_leclerc

carlossainz55 : Happiest of Birthdays to my favorite twins!

liked by author and charles_leclerc

dr_jules_leclerc : aren’t we like the only twins you know?

carlossainz55 : well technically yes but I could meet quadruplets and you guys would still be the favorite

liked by author and charles_leclerc

dr_jules_leclerc : thank you chili ❤️

oscarpiastri : Happy birthday to my father and my aunt! Love you guys!

liked by author and charles_leclerc

—

charles_leclerc made a post

liked by maxverstappen1, alexandrasaintmleux, arthur_leclerc & 3,265,368 others.

charles_leclerc : Happy birthday to the one who’s been with me since the very beginning—my twin, my lifelong partner in crime, my heart in another body. There’s no bond like ours, and no one I could ever be more grateful for. You’ve been my biggest cheerleader, my secret-keeper, my therapist, and my favorite person to just sit in silence with. We’ve seen each other through every version of ourselves—messy, growing, healing, thriving—and we’ve never let go. I honestly don’t know who I’d be without you, and I don’t ever want to find out. You make life fuller, funnier, and so much more meaningful. Here’s to everything we’ve been through and everything that’s still ahead. I love you more than words can really say.

—

dr_jules_leclerc : oh my charlie— thank you for always supporting me and keeping me strong throughout this life. you are one of the best things god has given me in this life and i wouldn’t trade you for anything. thank you for all those nights where you’d stay up for endless hours helping me study. thank you for pushing me and always believing in me. thank you for being you. love you forever

liked by author

arthur_leclerc : can you guys stop making me cry?

Liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

maxverstappen1 : Happy Birthday Leclerc’s!

Liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

alexandrasaintmleux : my angels

Liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

leclerc_pascale : mes bèbès❤️

Liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

lewishamilton : Happy Birthday to one of my best friends and to my teammate! ❤️

Liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

pierregasly : happy birthday to you both! cant wait to celebrate 🥂

Liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

—

lando just made a post!

liked by charles_leclerc, flonorris1, maxfewtrell & 4,368,389 others.

lando : Happy birthday to the love of my life, my safe place, my soulmate. Every day with you feels like a blessing, but today I get to celebrate you—your heart, your strength, your laughter, and everything that makes you so incredibly special. You’ve shown me a kind of love I never knew existed, and being yours feels like coming home. Thank you for being my partner in this wild, beautiful life. I’m so proud of who you are and so lucky to love you. Here’s to all the memories we’ve made and all the magic still to come. I love you, always. 🧡

(Happy Birthday to Charles as well- thank you for trusting me with your beautiful sister.)

—

dr_jules_leclerc : currently in tears— lan, i love you so much. you have forever changed my perception of love. you have showed me what true love is like and i will always remember you for that. you truly are the love of my life - thank you.

liked by author

maxfewtrell: Happy Birthday Jules and Charles! Hope it’s a good one.

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

charles_leclerc : Thank you, Lando. It took a lot for you to earn my trust but you did and that shows a lot. Take care of her, please.

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

flonorris1 : Happy Birthday Jules! We miss you!!

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

ciscanorris : Happy Birthday beautiful girl! Thank you for always being so good to my son and my family.

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

pietra.pilao : Happy happy birthday beautiful lady!

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

danielricciardo : aw how cute - my lando is so in love. happy birthday Jules and Charles!

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

—

arthur_leclerc added posts to his story.

{caption 1 : happiest of birthdays to the best sister i could have ever been given- you inspire me everyday. love you sm} {caption 2 : happy birthday cha- thank you for everything. you have done so much for me and have always been there to help me. love you}

seen by olliebearman, oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux & 337,378 others.

dr_jules_leclerc : artttt- im crying. you are the best baby brother i could have ever asked for. love you forever

message liked by arthur_leclerc

charles_leclerc : thank you Thur— love you:)

message liked by arthur_leclerc

alexandrasaintmleux : this is so cute oml

message liked by arthur_leclerc

olliebearman : tell them i said happy birthday!

arthur_leclerc : Ollie- man- you’re invited to their party tonight.

olliebearman : wait really??

arthur_leclerc : yes, Jules asked me if you’d come.

olliebearman : omg I’ll be there

message liked by arthur_leclerc

—

flashback moment between charles and jules

Age six.

Well—six and a half, as I proudly told anyone who asked. Charles would chime in with a matching “six and a half” in perfect unison, as if the two of us had rehearsed it.

We were always like that—mirrored pieces of the same wild, sunlit childhood. We shared everything: toys, birthdays, scraped knees, the top bunk, and Mamans laugh when we ran barefoot through the apartment, leaving chalk footprints behind.

It was a Saturday in Monaco. The kind of summer day where the air shimmered and the streets smelled like sea breeze and jasmine. The kind of day where the grownups left their windows open and the children left their shoes behind.

Charles and I were outside in the courtyard with a box of sidewalk chalk and no real plan—just endless space and imagination that didn’t need to make sense.

He was drawing something he insisted was a Formula 1 car.

“It’s got wings,” he explained, adding two lopsided triangles to the side. “So it’s faster.”

“It looks like a turtle,” I said, squinting.

Charles stuck his tongue out at me. “You don’t get it.”

I ignored him and moved on to the edge of the driveway, where I crouched and began writing my name, pressing the chalk down so hard it cracked in my hand.

J-U-L-E-Z. Big and uneven. In green and pink and a little streak of orange.

He looked over and tilted his head. “That’s not how you spell it.”

I turned my head sharply. “Yes it is.”

“Maman spells it with an ‘S.’”

I glared at him. “I like it with a ‘Z.’”

Charles raised his eyebrows in mock shock, then grabbed a piece of purple chalk and dramatically drew a huge, crooked heart around the name. “Fine. ‘Z’ it is.”

I didn’t say anything. Just grinned.

That afternoon turned golden, the way all the best ones did. We both chased each other through sprinklers, made a “soup” out of dandelions and tap water in mamans flower pots, and ended up collapsed on the front step, legs muddy, knees bruised, giggling breathlessly.

Someone handed us popsicles—our old neighbor, probably. Orange for both of us. It stained our fingers and dripped down our wrists as I swung my legs and leaned my shoulder into his without realizing it.

“Maman says you’re gonna be a doctor,” Charles said suddenly, eyes forward, voice calm.

I didn’t answer right away.

“She says you already know how to take care of people. That you ask questions like one.”

I looked at him, blinking. “She says you’re going to crash a car.”

Charles choked on his popsicle.

“I am not! I’m gonna drive one.”

“Yeah, into a wall,” i teased.

He elbowed me gently. “No walls. Just first place.”

We both sat quiet for a moment, chewing on the end of our popsicles, watching the sun sink behind the apartments.

Then I spoke.

“If you crash, I’m not fixing you.”

He smiled. “Liar.”

I nudged him. “You’re the liar.”

But even then—even at six—I knew I would fix him if he ever needed it. Because that’s what I did. And because he was mine, just like I was his.

And long after the chalk washed away and the popsicles melted and time turned everything else into something new—

That part stayed.

—

present day

I giggled to myself and sent charles a voice memo reliving that memory. He really was my other half and always would be. I was at his first race, I’ll be at his last. He has been there for me every step in my career. I’d always fix him if he ever needed it. It absolutely warmed my heart that him and Lando have finally started bonding—Charles still remaining protective as always but has let up on Lando. Time to get ready to Celebrate us.

—

The party was exactly what it should’ve been—equal parts elegant and chaotic.

Somehow, between back-to-back races and media days, We had managed to squeeze in one night. Just one night to celebrate another year around the sun, together. It had started as a quiet dinner idea, but leave it to the F1 grid to turn anything into an event.

The rooftop venue in Monaco overlooked the sea, bathed in gold from the setting sun. Fairy lights strung across low beams, music pulsing just enough to set the tone but not drown out the sound of laughter—so much laughter.

“Thirty minutes in and Russell already spilled red wine on the seating chart,” I whispered to Lando, who stood beside me with a hand resting comfortably at the small of my back.

“I think he did it on purpose,” Lando replied, lips twitching into a grin. “He’s avoiding being seated next to Max.”

I laughed, shaking my head—and that’s when I spotted him. Charles, across the patio, in conversation with Pierre and Esteban, trying to look serious while holding a cupcake in each hand.

“Classic Charles.” I murmured to myself.

Lando leaned in, dropping his voice. “Happy birthday, Doctor Leclerc.”

Before i could reply, someone called out: “Birthday toast!”

The group gathered slowly, everyone herding toward the long table that had somehow become littered with champagne corks, and a pair of sunglasses no one claimed. Charles tapped a glass with a fork, looking far too proud of himself.

“Okay,” he started, “as the older twin—”

“You’re older by four minutes,” I cut in.

“—wiser twin,” he amended with a smirk, “I’d like to say thank you all for being here. Some of you flew in on a rest day, which means a lot. Especially considering there is no actual prize for tolerating two Leclercs at once.”

Groans. Laughter. Someone (probably George) shouted, “We deserve medals!”

“But seriously,” Charles said, tone softening as he glanced at me. “We’ve shared every birthday together. Some loud. Some quiet. But this one feels different.”

I raised a brow. “How so?”

“Because you brought your half of the grid,” he teased, gesturing toward Lando, who grinned and mock-bowed. “And somehow, even with all the helmets and rivalry… tonight just feels like family.”

The silence that followed was warm. Full.

And then, just like that, Max lifted his glass. “To Jules and Charles. May their sibling battles always stay off track.”

“And may Lando survive dating a Leclerc!” someone (definitely Alex) added.

The toast ended in cheers, clinks, and one overly enthusiastic pop of champagne that nearly hit Oscar in the face.

Later, after cake (two, of course—because they still couldn’t agree on flavor) and dancing, I found myself standing alone by the railing, watching the moonlight ripple over the water.

Lando appeared quietly beside me, slipping his hand into mine.

“You good?” he asked, eyes on me, not the view.

I looked at him, heart a little full, cheeks still warm from laughing. “Yeah,” i said softly. “I’m really good.”

Because here she was—celebrating another trip around the sun with the person who knew her best, and the person who loved her deepest. Surrounded by people who’d crash helmets for her in one second and pull her into group hugs the next.

—

Charles and I sat on the balcony in silence - just enjoying the view and each other’s presence.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

We both just sipped, staring out at the glint of the sea under moonlight, the air quiet enough to hear the city hum.

Then Charles said, barely above a whisper, “Do you ever miss it? Being just us?”

I didn’t answer right away. Because I knew what he meant. Not out of jealousy, not from lack of love—but from the ache of growing up. Of your worlds expanding in opposite directions.

Sometimes it was just easier when it was the two of us, sharing bunk beds and stolen cookies, futures still unwritten and intertwined.

I leaned your shoulder into his, like I had a thousand times before.

“Yeah,” I admitted. “I miss it. But I wouldn’t trade this version either.”

He glanced over. “Even with Lando?”

I gave him a look. “Especially with Lando.”

Charles sighed dramatically, resting his head back. “Still weird.”

“You’re going to be weird about it forever, aren’t you?”

“Probably.” Then, after a pause, more serious: “But he makes you better. You smile more when he’s around.”

I blinked, taken off guard by the softness in his voice.

“You always took care of everyone else,” he added, “but now… someone’s taking care of you.”

And there it was—that twin intuition, cracking my chest open in the way only Charles could. The way he always saw me, even when you didn’t want to be seen.

I reached over, laced my pinky with his like i used to when i was little and scared of the dark.

“I’ve always had someone taking care of me,” I whispered.

He looked down at my pinky looped through his. Then nodded once, the corner of his mouth pulling upward.

“Happy birthday, Jules.”

“Happy birthday, Charlie.”

—

Charles had left to join Alexandra with something.

The rooftop was empty now.

The last of the laughter had faded. The champagne flutes were cleared. The music had stopped humming through the speakers. And somewhere below, Monaco slept beneath a blanket of soft moonlight and glittering sea.

I was still barefoot, my heels abandoned somewhere near the door. Lando was behind me—quiet, lingering—watching the way my hair moved in the night breeze, the curve of my back as you leaned against the railing, still sipping the last of my birthday espresso like it was wine.

Neither of us had said much in the last few minutes. The silence didn’t need to be filled. It felt like something sacred now, this stillness. A pause between chapters.

Lando stepped forward.

I turned, and mybeyes softened the second they met his.

“You okay?” I asked.

He nodded once. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“That’s dangerous,” I teased lightly, nudging his shoulder with mine.

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Not out of sadness. Just something deeper. Quieter. His fingers found mine, weaving through them carefully, like he was memorizing the shape of my hand all over again.

“I’ve been carrying something with me all night,” he said.

I blinked. “Yeah?”

He nodded, his free hand reaching into the pocket of his jacket—pulling out a small, black velvet box.

My breath got caught in my chest.

“Lan—”

“I didn’t want to do it during the party,” he said quickly, voice low and steady. “Not in front of everyone. Not with Max yelling and your brother two seconds away from tackling me.”

I laughed, but it came out shaky. My heart was racing.

“I wanted it to be just you. Just me.” He looked around the empty rooftop. “Just this.”

Slowly, he sank to one knee, the box still unopened in his hand.

And suddenly it was like everything stilled. The sea. The stars. My pulse.

“I’ve loved you from the moment I realized how fiercely you love everyone else,” he said quietly. “I’ve seen the way you carry the weight of the world and still find room for joy. The way you laugh like it’s the first time every time. The way you hold onto people so tightly that they never want to let go.”

He paused, smiling slightly. “You made space for me. And I want to spend the rest of my life making sure you never have to carry anything alone again.”

He opened the box.

The ring inside was simple. Elegant. Timeless.

The way he thought of me.

“Jules Leclerc,” he breathed. “Will you marry me?”

I didn’t answer at first.

Because I was crying. Silently. Full-bodied, chest-aching tears—the kind that came from being seen so completely, so intimately, i didn’t know how to hold it all at once.

And then, through the blur of tears and the shaking breath, i whispered:

“Yes.”

He was up before I finished the word, arms around me, his lips pressed to my forehead, my cheeks, my smile. We were both laughing and crying and saying I love you like it was the only language we knew.

Somewhere down below, the waves kissed the shore.

But up here?

Up here, time stopped.

And forever began.

—

I didn’t sleep that night.

Neither of us did.

Between the adrenaline, the endless kisses, the whispered “fiancé” muttered every five minutes just to hear how it sounded… we were floating.

Morning came fast.

The Monaco sun filtered through the curtains of the apartment, and I sat cross-legged on the couch, hair messy, oversized hoodie swallowed over my knees—his hoodie, of course. Lando paced with two mugs of coffee in hand and nerves in his throat.

“You sure we’re ready for this?” he asked, even as he handed me a cup.

I raised a brow. “What, telling my family? The people who’ve loved me through every single meltdown, breakup, and panic attack I’ve ever had?”

“Yes.”

I smiled. “Then absolutely not.”

He groaned, dropping next to me on the couch. I reached over and took his hand.

“They love you, Lan,” I whispered, pressing my thumb into the curve of his palm. “And they love us.”

“You sure Charles won’t try to tackle me?”

“Eighty percent.”

He gave me a side-eye. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

A Few Hours Later

It was casual on the surface: a quiet brunch with Charles, Arthur, and maman. We done this dozens of times. Croissants, espresso, sunlight. Maman flitting between the kitchen and the table, humming to herself.

But Charles had been eyeing us both for a solid ten minutes now.

“What’s wrong with you two?” he asked finally, fork paused mid-air. “You’re smiling like… serial killers.”

Arthur leaned back and smirked. “They’re definitely hiding something.”

I locked eyes with Lando. He gave a slight nod. It was time.

I stood up slowly, heart pounding, holding up my left hand.

The room froze.

“Jules,” maman whispered, one hand already rising to her mouth.

“We’re engaged,”I said softly, my voice cracking from the weight of it. “Lando proposed last night. After the party.”

Charles blinked. Stared. Blinked again.

And then—“You proposed after my toast?!”

Lando laughed nervously. “I swear I didn’t plan it like that.”

Maman was already pulling me into her arms, wiping tears from her cheeks as she whispered a prayer in French and kissed the side of my face. Arthur stood, grinning wide as he pulled Lando into a too-tight hug, nearly knocking the wind out of him.

Charles, meanwhile, just sat there.

Silent.

Until he looked up at Lando with a sigh and stood.

Everyone held their breath.

Then—he walked around the table, stopped in front of Lando, and pulled him into a hug so tight, so genuine, it made my eyes sting.

“Just don’t break her heart,” he whispered into Lando’s ear.

“I won’t,” Lando promised.

“I’ll know if you do.”

“I know you will.”

Charles pulled back and nodded once before glancing over at you. “I hate that you’re gonna be a Norris,” he muttered.

I beamed. “I’m not. I’m keeping Leclerc.”

He fist-pumped. “Yes!”

“I have to go call Alex and Charlotte to start wedding planning!” I said grabbing Maman and entering the house, leaving the boys on the balcony.

Later That Evening

The nerves came rushing back as the video call loaded.

Lando and I sat curled up on the couch, my legs tucked under his, laptop perched on the coffee table between two mugs of tea we hadn’t touched. First on screen was Oli, then Flo, their eyes immediately narrowing like they sensed something was up.

“Okay,” Flo said, squinting. “You’re both sitting suspiciously close. Did you get a puppy?”

“No way, it’s a turtle,” Oli added. “You guys totally look like turtle people.”

And then, Cisca’s face appeared on screen—her familiar smile already easing the nerves in your chest. She looked cozy at home, a glass of wine in hand, gaze flicking between her son and the woman curled into his side.

“What’s going on?” she asked, the first to speak gently. “You’ve got that look, Lando. The same one you had when you drove a kart for the first time.”

Lando cleared his throat, fingers squeezing mine a little tighter. I nodded towards him.

He took a breath.

“We got engaged.”

There was a beat of silence—and then chaos.

Flo screamed, instantly flailing off-screen in excitement. Oli shouted “NO WAY” like it was breaking news. And Cisca—her hand flew to her mouth, tears already springing to her eyes before the rest of the sentence was even out. Adam just had a permanent smile plastered on his face.

“You—really?” she whispered, blinking.

Lando smiled at her, all soft and proud. “Yeah, Mum. I asked her last night. After the party. She said yes.”

My hand lifted automatically, showing them the ring, and Flo reappeared on-screen with a dramatic gasp that nearly made me almost drop the laptop.

“Wait—oh my god. Jules. That’s so pretty.”

“I love it,” Cisca said softly, still a little breathless, her eyes fixed on me now. “I always hoped… but I never wanted to say too much.”

“You made a damn good choice, son.” Adam said causing lando to smile.

“I know.”

I smiled and swallowed the lump in my throat.

“I love him,” I said quietly. “And I love this family already.”

That’s when Cisca’s voice wavered, eyes glassy.

“And now you’re part of it. Officially.” She blinked rapidly, then laughed, wiping her cheek. “God, look at me. I told myself I wasn’t going to cry.”

“Too late,” Oli teased.

Flo cut in, practically vibrating. “We need to plan a trip! I need to give you an in-person scream hug!”

Lando leaned closer to the screen. “We’ll come soon. Promise.”

The call stretched into an hour—stories, questions, wedding hints. And through it all, Cisca kept looking at me the way a mother does when she knows her son is going to be okay. When she sees the kind of love that doesn’t just burn, but lasts.

And just before the call ended, she reached toward the camera, like she could touch me through the screen.

“I hope you know,” she said, voice thick with love, “I already thought of you as part of our family. But now, I get to call you my daughter.”

My eyes stung again.

“I’d be honored,” I whispered.

Lando reached over, brushing a thumb over my cheek as the screen faded to black.

“She loves you, you know.”

I turned my head, smiling. “I know.”

“And so do I.”

__

paddock reactions! to the engagement

Race weekends were always a blur—flights, media, strategy meetings, adrenaline and tire smoke. But this weekend? This weekend felt different.

Because now there was a ring on my finger.

And the world didn’t know. Yet.

It started quietly.

Whispers. Curious glances. Subtle gestures between Lando and I —his hand always brushing over mine, his eyes softer than usual when he looked at me. The drivers noticed first, of course. They always did.

It was Oscar who caught it.

I was in the McLaren motorhome, mid-conversation with Lando about telemetry or tire wear—or pretending to be—when Oscar passed by, paused, backtracked, and squinted.

“Is that…?” He pointed to my hand, blinking. “Are you engaged?!”

I froze.

Lando burst out laughing.

And that was all it took.

An Hour Later

I wasn’t sure who told who next—Oscar or Carlos—but suddenly it felt like the entire paddock knew.

George cornered Lando during the cooldown after FP1. “Mate, you didn’t even text the group chat?!”

Alex demanded to know how many people knew before him. (The answer was two—my brother and my mother—and he still sulked.)

Lewis gave me a quiet hug in the Ferrari hospitality unit later, whispering, “You two are beautiful together. Protect that.”

Pierre almost tackled me in the hallway. “You said nothing in the driver’s lounge? Rude.”

He had always been like another brother to me.

Esteban handed me a croissant like it was a wedding gift.

And Sebastian Vettel, who just happened to be visiting that weekend, pulled Lando into a firm, fatherly hug and said, “She’s brilliant. You’re lucky.”

But it was the moment with Max that made me laugh the hardest.

He walked up with his arms crossed, glanced at my hand, and raised a brow. “Guess I lost the bet with Charles.”

I blinked. “You bet on us?”

“I said he’d wait until the off-season. Clearly, I underestimated his emotional impulsiveness.”

I turned to Lando. “That sounds like an insult.”

“It was,” Max said with a shrug, then smirked. “Congrats though. Genuinely.”

And then, of course, came the group photo.

The McLaren media team, never ones to miss a moment, pulled us both aside at golden hour behind the garage. Someone handed me a bouquet of orange pit boards tied with ribbon, and before i knew it, we were both posing, grinning like idiots, Lando’s arm around my waist and my hand—ring and all—pressed against his chest.

The caption was simple when they posted it:

“She said yes.”

I found Charles leaning against a pit wall, watching the sun sink low over the track.

“You okay?”I asked, sliding next to him.

He didn’t look at me right away. “You’re not my little sister anymore, you know.”

I nudged his shoulder. “Was I ever? It’s only four minutes, Cha.”

“Still feels like it sometimes,” he murmured. Then, after a pause, he added, “He makes you happy.”

I nodded. “He does.”

“Then I’m happy too.”

He finally turned to look at me—his eyes a little glassy, though he’d never admit it.

“But if he messes it up…”

“I know,” I grinned. “You’ll ruin his life.”

Charles smirked. “Exactly.”

—

dr_jules_leclerc is with lando

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri & 12,378,368 others.

dr_jules_leclerc : can’t wait to spend forever with you

—

comments on this post have been limited.

—

alexandrasaintmleux added a post to her story.

{caption ; my sister is getting married!! time to start wedding planning}

seen by charles_leclerc, lando, arthur_Leclerc and 338,378 others.

lando : she is an angel- so perfect

alexandrasaintmleux : truly!

—

part four done! let me know what you guys think — requests always open. thank you for all the support 💐💐

[goldfades]

i need to be sidney crosbys controversially young gf… maybe something for that… heh

my new fav concept, hope you enjoy!

It started with whispers.

The kind that curled around the edges of locker rooms and crept into post-game interviews, barely concealed behind tight-lipped smirks and knowing glances. The kind that made headlines in tabloids next to blurry photos of a dinner reservation that should have been private. The kind that weren’t unexpected, not when a 37-year-old hockey legend started dating a 21-year-old who had no business being in his world.

Sidney Crosby was used to the noise. He’d spent two decades as the face of a franchise, his every move dissected and debated. But this? This was different. This was personal.

And you—well, you were the subject of speculation, fascination, and, in some corners, outright disapproval. The girl too young, too fresh, too much of a contrast to the quiet, calculated, carefully managed existence Sidney had built. The age gap was undeniable, a 16-year stretch that gave people ammunition, as if they hadn’t already decided what they thought about you.

It didn’t help that you weren’t some seasoned socialite or a familiar name in hockey circles. You weren’t a sports reporter or a PR darling, not a longtime fixture at games. No, you were something worse in the eyes of his critics—young, new, and entirely yours.

They didn’t know about the late-night conversations, the ones where Sidney’s usual reserve cracked open just enough for you to slip inside. They didn’t see the way he softened when you spoke, or how he looked at you like he was trying to memorize every version of you—the excited, the sleepy, the frustrated, the amused.

They didn’t know that you never sought him out, that he was the one who lingered after your first meeting, the one who texted first, the one who—despite all logic, despite knowing exactly what kind of reaction this would spark—had made it clear he wanted you.

But they knew enough to talk.

"She’s barely old enough to drink."

"What could they possibly have in common?"

"Sid’s having a mid-life crisis."

The comments should have been easy to ignore. Sidney wasn’t the type to entertain gossip, and you’d never cared about the opinions of people who didn’t know you. But still, the weight of it settled into your bones some days, making you wonder if you were an anomaly in his otherwise perfectly controlled life.

Because he was Sidney Crosby—captain, legend, a man whose legacy had been cemented long before you were even in high school. And you? You were just the girl people assumed was temporary.

And maybe that’s what made it all the more exhilarating.

The funniest part? You and Sidney actually found the whole thing hilarious.

The first time you showed him a comment under some sports gossip post—"She’s basically a child. This is so embarrassing for him."—he just blinked at you, unimpressed.

"Didn’t realize I should be embarrassed for enjoying my life," he said dryly, barely looking up from his coffee.

You snorted. "Yeah, well, you should probably start wearing knee braces to dinner so people know how frail you are."

From then on, it became a running joke.

Like when you posted a dimly lit photo of your hand wrapped around a wine glass at a fancy steakhouse, the edge of Sidney’s plate barely in frame, and captioned it: Dinner with my old man 🤍

Or when you caught a candid of him rubbing his temple after a long day and added it to your Instagram story with the text: He’s got a headache from all the whippersnappers in his life.

Or, your personal favorite, when you recorded him tying his skates before practice, zoomed in on his face as he focused, and added: D1 Grandpa Energy.

The chirps were constant, and he took them all in stride. In fact, he played along—leaned into it, even.

"Think I should start stretching before we go out?" he mused one evening as you got ready for dinner. "Maybe bring a heating pad?"

You grinned at him in the mirror. "I already put Icy Hot in your bag. Just in case you pull something walking to the table."

He rolled his eyes, but you caught the twitch of his lips.

Despite the internet losing its collective mind, the reality of your relationship was effortless. Sidney was steady, calm, and deeply private. You, on the other hand, were unbothered, playful, and just reckless enough to make things interesting. You balanced each other out in a way that worked, even if people didn’t understand it.

You loved how Sidney never treated you like you were some silly, naive kid. He respected you—your thoughts, your humor, your way of seeing the world. And you, in turn, loved teasing the hell out of him, keeping him on his toes in a way no one else really dared.

Like the time you went with him to a team dinner, and while everyone was talking hockey, you casually turned to him and went, "Tell me again what it was like growing up without color TV?"

The table went silent for a beat before someone—probably Letang—burst out laughing. Sid just gave you that look, equal parts unimpressed and amused, before shaking his head.

"She’s funny, huh?" he muttered, reaching for his drink.

"A regular comedian," you quipped, clinking your glass against his.

That was the thing—no matter how much outside noise tried to define your relationship, the two of you had already decided what it was.

It was simple. You liked each other.

Sidney didn’t buy you expensive things to impress you. Sure, he could, but he knew that wasn’t why you were here. Instead, he showed up in little ways—the way he always made sure to order your fries extra crispy because that’s how you liked them, or how he’d automatically pull you closer when cameras were around, just to make sure you didn’t get overwhelmed.

And you? You made sure he laughed. Really laughed. The kind of laugh that shook his shoulders and made his eyes crinkle, the kind of laugh he rarely let people see.

You were good together. You fit, even if people couldn’t wrap their heads around it.

And honestly? That just made it more fun.

It was nearly midnight, and the two of you were on the couch, deep in a heated argument over absolutely nothing.

"I'm just saying, people who don’t let the cereal sit in the milk for at least thirty seconds before eating it are a danger to society," you declared, pointing your spoon at him.

Sidney, reclined against the cushions in his sweatpants and a faded Team Canada hoodie, exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. "That’s ridiculous. You want it soggy?"

"Not soggy, perfectly saturated," you corrected, scooping another spoonful of Cinnamon Toast Crunch from your bowl. "It enhances the experience."

Sid shook his head, glancing down at his own bowl—practically dry because, of course, he barely let the milk touch his cereal before shoveling it into his mouth like some kind of barbarian. "There’s no way you actually believe this."

"I do," you said, dramatic as ever, settling further into your spot next to him. "This is a hill I will die on."

Sid sighed, took another bite, and then, without missing a beat, shot back, "Guess you’d better hope I go first then."

You gasped, shoving his shoulder. "Did you just—"

He fought back a smirk, chewing methodically like he didn’t just say something that made your jaw drop. "You’re too young to be making retirement home decisions, anyway," he added, extra casual.

"Wow," you scoffed, setting your bowl down. "Big words for someone whose lower back cracks every time he stands up."

He snorted, finally breaking into that slow, warm smile that made your stomach flip.

It was moments like this that made you realize why, despite the comments and the noise, this relationship worked.

You weren’t intimidated by him. Not by his reputation, not by the weight of who he was. You poked fun at the untouchable Sidney Crosby the way most people wouldn’t dare, but you never disrespected him. You met him as a person, not as a legacy.

And Sid—Sid liked that.

He liked how quick you were, how you made fun of him without ever making him feel small. How you never treated him like some god on skates but also never downplayed how much he meant to people. It was a balance no one had quite figured out before you.

He let out a deep breath, stretching his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers absentmindedly toying with the ends of your hair.

"You done bullying me for the night?" he asked, amused.

You hummed, considering. "Depends. You gonna admit my cereal method is better?"

"Absolutely not."

"Then no."

He chuckled, shaking his head before wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in. You melted into his side like it was second nature, warm and easy.

The whole world could talk. The whole world could speculate. But in here, in this quiet moment between bowls of cereal and bad jokes, you fit like you were always meant to.

[rafedarling]

𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰

pairing: drew starkey x reader

based on this request: Drew and reader! After watching Outer Banks season 1, out of curiosty because the reader finds him attractive, she goes on his instagram but accidently presses ''Follow'' but panics and unfollows. She wants to play it cool you know, and not be that ''fangirl'' incase she ever bumped into him. Not that she thinks she would ever have a chance, but you know? She is surprised when he follows her a few hours later since she is just a 'normal person' and not a celebrity or influencer. He sends her a message and kind of jokingly being like ''Was I that boring to follow'' or something and a conversation just takes off | word count: 1,2k

warning: english is not my native language.

au: like, reblog, comment & feedback are much appreciated 🥹 | taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @mileyraes @akobx @noobmazter69 @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @littlelamy @enjoymyloves @stuffyownswrld

You had just finished watching the first season of Outer Banks, and to say you were hooked would be an understatement. The show had everything—drama, adventure, and a cast that was undeniably attractive. But there was one character who had particularly caught your eye: Rafe Cameron, played by the actor Drew Starkey. You weren’t sure if it was the intensity he brought to the character or just his piercing blue eyes, but either way, you found yourself thinking about him long after the credits rolled.

Out of curiosity, and maybe a little bit of a crush, you decided to check out his Instagram. You were sure it was just harmless fun, a way to see what the actor was like off-screen. After all, it wasn’t like you were ever going to meet him in real life. You were just a normal person, living a normal life, far removed from the glitz and glamour of Hollywood.

You typed his name into the search bar and quickly found his profile. As you scrolled through his photos, you couldn’t help but notice how different he seemed from his character. He had a warm, genuine smile in most of his pictures, and the captions were often humorous or thoughtful. It was refreshing, and it only made you like him more.

Without really thinking, your thumb hovered over the “Follow” button. Before you could second-guess yourself, you pressed it—almost instinctively. But as soon as you did, panic set in. Oh no, what did I just do? Your mind raced. I wasn’t supposed to actually follow him!

In a frenzy, you quickly unfollowed him, hoping he wouldn’t notice. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you couldn’t believe you had been so careless. What if he saw? you thought, mortified. You weren’t trying to be that person—just another fangirl who accidentally reveals her crush on a celebrity.

You put your phone down, trying to distract yourself with something else, but your mind kept drifting back to that split-second decision. He has millions of followers, you reassured yourself. There’s no way he would notice one random person following and unfollowing him.

Hours passed, and you had almost managed to forget the whole thing when your phone buzzed with a notification. You glanced at the screen and froze. It was a notification from Instagram: @drewstarkey followed you back.

Your heart skipped a beat. Wait, what? You stared at the screen, blinking in disbelief. Drew Starkey, the Drew Starkey, had followed you? But why? You were just an ordinary person, not a celebrity or influencer. The thought that he might have actually noticed you made your stomach do a little flip.

Before you could fully process what was happening, another notification appeared—a message from him. With shaky fingers, you tapped on it, your heart racing.

Drew Starkey:

Was I that boring to follow? 😅

You stared at the message, completely floored. He noticed. He actually noticed. And not only that, he had messaged you, joking about it. You weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry, but one thing was certain: you needed to reply.

Taking a deep breath, you started typing.

You:

Oh my gosh, no! It was totally an accident. I swear I’m not a weirdo or anything…

You paused, rereading the message. Great, now I sound like a weirdo, you thought, rolling your eyes at yourself. You quickly added:

You:

I was just checking out your profile after watching Outer Banks. But then I got nervous and unfollowed because I didn’t want to seem like a fangirl.

There was a brief moment of silence as you watched the three little dots indicating he was typing. Your heart was in your throat, and you couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

Drew Starkey:

No need to be nervous. I’m just a regular guy who happens to play a crazy one on TV. 😄

You felt your nerves ease a little at his response. He seemed so down-to-earth and genuine, which only made you like him more.

You:

Well, you’re really good at playing the crazy guy. I didn’t think I’d ever root for Rafe, but you made him so compelling!

Drew Starkey:

Thanks! That means a lot. It’s always fun to play characters that are so different from who I am in real life.

You:

I can imagine. It must be challenging, though.

Drew Starkey:

Definitely. But it’s also rewarding when people like you notice the work that goes into it. By the way, what did you think of the show?

The conversation was flowing so naturally, it was almost surreal. Here you were, chatting with Drew Starkey like you were old friends, and he was genuinely interested in what you had to say.

You:

I loved it! It was such a wild ride from start to finish. I was on the edge of my seat the whole time. And the cast is amazing—I can tell you all have great chemistry.

Drew Starkey:

We really do. It’s like a little family on set. I’m glad that comes across on screen.

There was a brief pause, and then another message came through.

Drew Starkey:

So, since we’re already chatting, mind if I keep following you? 😉

You couldn’t help but smile at the cheeky tone of his message. He was clearly teasing you, but there was something sweet about it, too.

You:

Well, I guess I can allow that. 😏

Drew Starkey:

Good to know I’m not banned from your profile. 😄

You:

Not at all. But now I feel like I have to step up my Instagram game. 😂

Drew Starkey:

No pressure! I’m just here for the good vibes and dog pics, if you have any.

You laughed, feeling completely at ease now. This whole situation had gone from panic-inducing to utterly charming in a matter of minutes.

You:

Well, you’re in luck. I do have a dog, and she’s very photogenic.

Drew Starkey:

Now I’m really glad I followed you. 🐶

The two of you continued chatting for a while, sharing stories about your pets, favorite shows, and the little things in life that made you happy. It was easy, comfortable, and fun—like catching up with a friend you hadn’t seen in a while.

Eventually, you noticed the time and realized how late it had gotten.

You:

I should probably let you go. I didn’t mean to keep you up all night!

Drew Starkey:

No worries, this was fun. I’m glad you accidentally followed me. 😁

You:

Me too. Thanks for being so cool about it.

Drew Starkey:

Anytime. And hey, don’t be a stranger. Feel free to message me anytime.

You:

I will. Goodnight, Drew.

Drew Starkey:

Goodnight, Y/n.

You set your phone down with a huge smile on your face, your heart still fluttering from the unexpected turn of events. What had started as a simple curiosity had led to something much more—an actual conversation with Drew Starkey. And the best part? He’d followed you first.

[no-144444]

hello hello hellooo

you’re one of the very few people here that i see that writes for jack, and i have an idea ☝️🤓

you know that one trend that like “a boy who’s jacked and kind” (slim pickins by sabrina) i think reader would convince jack to do it, and it would be even funnier bc his name is jack 😭

idk i just thought it was a cute idea 😭🫶

sabrina said it best- j.doohan

summary: he's a guy who's jacked and kind, what can you say ?

pairing: jack doohan x fem! rb driver! reader

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Was it your plan to be carried out of a bar by your boyfriend because you were drunk out of your mind?

No, not really. 

But it was quite funny. Jack was the kind of boyfriend who literally would do anything you asked him to. He was the best mix of a golden retriever and black cat. Just introverted enough to let your extroversion shine through, but extroverted enough that he wasn’t socially awkward. He also had no shame in carrying you out of a bar after your first win in F1 (F1 power couple, if you ask me) with the biggest, smuggest smirk on his face. 

The bad thing about Monté-Carlo? How small it was. 

Fans had found out where you were celebrating, and they’d waited outside to catch a glimpse of the new RedBull darling, the highest scoring woman of all time in the sport. They were not expecting to see Jack carrying you out as you pressed soft kisses to his neck, giggled, or just smiled, making Jack stop so you could chat with passing fans. 

One such fan videoed him picking you back up after one such chat, and put it to the Sabrina Carpenter song ‘Slim Pickin’s’, to match the trend that was going around. 

It didn’t take long to garner over 10 million views. People who didn’t even know F1 were obsessed with it, and F1 enjoyers were even more obsessed. 

It didn’t take long for you to go to Jack, asking him to do the trend. 

And he was all too happy to oblige. You stood in front of the camera, a smile on your face as you lip-synced to the lyrics, Jack standing behind you with that same smug smirk, picking you up easily and sitting you on his shoulder, flexing his right arm to the camera. 

Your caption was the icing on the cake. 

A boy who’s jacked and kind? See what I did there! 

Yes, both Alpine and RedBull begged you to take it down, but it had 20 million likes. 

Fuck them.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[aijunbi]

THE FIRST SNOW

kim minji x fem!reader

{ synopsis } : you were in a long-term relationship with minji since the start of high school. after graduating, minji broke the news that she's going back to canada. a long-distance relationship wasn't an option, so the next best thing was breaking up. you were still in love with her for a period of time but eventually started to move on– until you bump into someone on the street.

{ a/n } : tsbu lara fic hasn't seen the light of day since creation, i feel bad -v-

{ tags/extra } : 2 years after break up, lovers to exes to ???, light angst, hyein and reader are sisters, may or may not have projected a little

═════════

now playing : the first snow - exo

⤷ "if i met you,

would tears rise up?"

════════

═══════════════════════════

"Y/N! IT'S SNOWING!" hyein shook you awake while she rambled about the snow in excitement, pulling on your arm to go outside and see. you gave a half-ass protest but hyein insisted you check it out. "it might be one of the prettier first snows."

"hyein, do you have any idea what time it is?" you rubbed your eyes tiredly, the glare from the streetlights were rather annoying. the snow was as pretty as hyein said it was but you'd prefer to see it when you're fully awake.

"it's six in the morning," hyein answered. you turned to look at her, having to slightly look up to see her face. now that you're getting a better look at her, she's in her school uniform. "i have to leave for school in a bit."

"oh. i'll go get ready." as you were about to make your way to the bathroom, hyein quickly stopped you.

"it's okay, dain will pick me up."

your eyes narrowed suspiciously as you stared at her. "can dain drive yet?" seeing her tense, you sighed, putting your hand up to stop her from talking. "whatever, i don't care. just get to school safe and on time."

"why are you making it seem like i'll skip?" hyein pouted, clinging onto your arm.

"it's because you do. if you skip one more time, i'm sending you back to incheon with mom and dad," you warned. blood seemed to drain from hyein's face

"what?! noo, i like seoul," she whined while shaking your shoulders to take back your threat. you groaned, swatting her arms to let you go. "plus, haerin is the one driving."

"really? ok, have fun."

"hey! why are you suddenly ok when i mention that cat?"

"haerin value her studies so of course i trust her." you shrugged. a sudden voice called out for hyein down the street– more like a couple voices –signaling that her friends were here. "don't spend too much money on snacks, ok? love you."

"love you too, bye!" hyein rushed out of the house, turning the corner. you peeked your head out to see haerin's hyundai parked at the end of the neighborhood. you softly smiled seeing hyein run happily to her friends, reminding you of your high school years.

"well since i'm awake now," you headed back inside to get ready for the day, thinking about whether or not to go to class a little earlier than normal. since that's too much work, you decided to get coffee first.

~

your phone kept buzzing with endless notifications from god knows who, and while you tried to ignore it to admire the snow around you, a sudden call interrupted you. with an annoyed huff, you took your phone out of your pocket to see danielle calling. "hello?" you answered as you continued to walk to the coffee shop.

'did you hear?' she asked on the other line.

"hear what?"

'minji's back from canada.'

you paused for a moment, your lips parting in shock. minji, your ex that broke up with you two years ago to leave to canada, was now back in korea. "wait, i thought the move was permanent."

'it was never permanent?'

that little liar. "she told me it was," you said almost bitterly.

'really? before she left, she said she'd come back. look,'

danielle sent you a screenshot of minji's instagram story, the photo being her on an airplane with the caption 'back home.' you were absolutely furious, your hand gripping your phone so tightly that it might break. "she told me she wasn't coming back."

'maybe you remembered wrong? 'cuz that's not what she said to me nor haerin.'

"no, i'm sure. if she was coming back then we would've gone long-distance."

'y/n–'

"look, i don't wanna talk about this anymore. i'm gonna go." you didn't give danielle a chance to talk any further, your finger already pressing the hang up button. great. just when you were finally moving on, minji decided to come back. you shook your head and continued on your way. to say you were pissed would be the least similar way to describe how you were feeling. how could she lie and come back like nothing?

you finally reached your destination, your hand reaching out to grab the door handle until another hand appeared in front of you. "oh, sorry–" you backed up from the door but stopped midway once you saw who was holding the door.

"y/n?" god, you hated that voice.

"what're you doing here?" you asked with no interest, yet the sting in your eyes and the tug at your heart says otherwise. minji glanced inside the building before returning back to you, a confused look smothered on her face.

"getting coffee?..." right. it's a coffee shop. you fought back the urge to roll your eyes and cry at the same time, stepping back to let her go through. "you can go first."

"just go already." minji hesitated but reluctantly opened the door to go in first, pushing back the door behind her just enough so you can enter as well. you scoffed but didn't reject the offer, stepping inside to feel the warm atmosphere, a contrast to the outside. you placed your order quickly before finding a seat at one of the tables near the window.

minji sat in the seat in front of you, startling you a bit. her eyes seemed like she wanted to talk to you but you weren't sure if you were ready for that conversation yet. "can we please talk, y/n?"

"stop saying my name." you leaned back in your chair, your arms crossed over your chest. "you lied to me."

"it was the only option," she confessed. the sting in your eyes grew with each word she said. you ran a hand through your hair, pushing back the loose strands in frustration.

"only option? was i not enough to deserve the truth?"

"i didn't mean it like that..." her eyes were sad, practically begging you to let her explain. "i got accepted into a university in a toronto," she started, "i wanted to keep our relationship but i was going across the world. it would drive me insane to hear you say that you miss being held by me because, fucking hell, y/n. i'd miss it too."

your bottom lip started to quiver as tears welled up in your eyes, droplets falling down onto your lap. you're can't cry. not here, not now.

"i didn't wanna hear you say you wish i was there with you, i didn't wanna see myself crying in front of the bathroom mirror after calling you," minji continued on, "i didn't wanna have to pretend like i wasn't affected. so, i left."

"but why? why did you have to go? you could've stayed."

"it was the only university that accepted me. if yonsei accepted me then i would've." you sniffled, your hand coming up to wipe the tears from your eyes. you hated yourself for crying at that moment. "i was young and naive, but now, i know what i want." she reached across the table, holding your hand dearly. "i want you. i want us to start again."

"minji, you can't just leave and come back to ask for a second chance."

"please, y/n, please. i'm still in love you and i'm sorry it took this long for me to realize." her pleas were convincing but you weren't sure if you should give in. "let us be us again."

"i... i don't know." you pulled your hand back, slipping out of your seat. you left minji sitting alone as you walked out of the building, too caught up in your emotions. you felt a firm hand grab your wrist and turn you back around.

"love, please–"

"don't call me that!" your chest rose and fell rapidly as tears streamed down your cheek. "no. you don't get to break up with me and then call me love." minji only stared at you, half sorry and half full of pity.

"please think about it," she begged. "text me when you have an answer."

"don't boss me around." you took back your arm, stuffing your hand in your jacket pocket. "hyein still hates you."

"i'm sorry."

"stop, just stop. your number is still blocked and i don't plan on unblocking you." your hands curled into fists in your pockets out of anger. "see you around."

- tbc -

[joyswonderland1108]

Jikook aren't just dating, they're in their honeymoon phase for the 10th year in a row and i've HAD ENOUGH

No because you do not understand. I made the mistake, no, the lifestyle choice, of rewatching everything Jikook from the very beginning and now i'm spiraling at the speed of light and my heart is doing parkour. Ain't no way in the multiverse someone watches Jikook and goes "Yep, just bros being bros". What do you MEAN "Just friends"??? Like ??? Be so serious right now. Be biblical-level serious. Look me dead in the eyes and tell me Jikook is just platonic when :

They have almost kissed multiple times, in 4K, in front of live audiences, and cameras. You don't accidentally almost kiss someone that many times unless you're in a K-drama. Or in Love. Like are we supposed to believe they were just practicing for a drama they weren't even in?

JK out here showing up with a whole hickey and them casually telling us "Yeah, we were drinking (alone) and he picked me up spun me like we just said 'I do' he wouldn't put me down so i bit his neck" Like.. Sir?? That's no friendship, that's foreplay. Also, let's not pretend that was a one-time thing. We've seen random hickeys, the mystery marks, Sherlock who? We been solved that mystery.

The inside jokes, whole conversations happening telepathically while the rest of the group looks at them like "Here they go again" Like, sorry, but when you start a sentence and your man finishes it, that's not friendship. That's spousal telepathy. "I am you you are me" you know..

The ear bite. THE EAR BITE. And the glistening saliva trail. Broadcasted to the world like we weren't sitting there eating cereal. Do you know how intimate that is? They weren't even trying to be subtle. At this point, i feel like they want to get caught. I had to pause, breathe, reevaluate life, and then hit replay 10 more times like a masochist.

The GCF in Tokyo. A soft, romantic video edited by Jungkook, starring only Jimin, set to a love song. Boy didn't make a vlog, ihe made a wedding montage. If my boyfriend made that for me, i would cry and then marry him immediately. Oh wait.

Their solo eras? JK's lives were practically sponsored by "Jiminie-hyung" , the "Can you handle it?" Sir, this is a Wendy's. Who gave you the right? Reading each other's comments during their lives like a giddy crush. The flirtation, the teasing, the INTENSE GAZES. That wasn't fanservice, that was a whole relationship slipping through the cracks of BigHit's NDA.

Matching clothes, matching earrings, matching bracelets, matching rings, matching tattoos, matching souls. I'm not saying they're soulmates but i am saying if they lived in ancient Greece there would already be statues of them carved out of marble with captions like "Eros incarnate". No one matches this much unless they're married or playing twins on Disney Channel.

And remember, they made a whole show about the two of them going on a trip. Swimming together, cooking for each other, bickering like an old married couple, sharing hotel rooms (read: one bed), and giggling like they're the only people alive on Earth. JK said "let me film my husband being adorable for several days straight". WHAT IS THIS? "Married Life: The Prequel". Honestly? Cinematic masterpiece.

The stares that last 10 seconds too long. The little touches. The way they gravitate toward each other in every group setting like magnets with one thought that says "stand next to Jimin" (Standing next to Jimin *Ba Dum Tss*)

That one time when JK sniffed Jimin like he was inhaling the very concept of Jimin, like a man trying to bottle the essence of love..

Them showing up on each other's lives (Physically or via comments). Jimin lurking in the comments like a clingy husband. JK not even trying to hide his grin when Jimin's name shows up. "Oh, is Jimin watching?" Giggle. Okay.

And let's talk about the Jungkook Reaction Lives, this man really sat down multiple times, on his own accord, just to watch Jimin. Reacting to "Vibe". Reacting to "Set me Free pt2" like a proud husband watching his husband dominate the stage. Watching "Like Crazy" and smiling like he choreographed it himself. Then he really said "Let me react to Jimin content", pulled up Jimin's episode on Suchwita, and pulled up a whole compilation of their moments together during "Best of Me" and just sat there giggling, vibing, and whispering "cute" like we weren't watching him fall deeper in love in 1080p. He's not subtle. He's never been subtle. He's a Jimin fan account with privileges.

Let's not even get started on JK's long-term, unsupervised obsession with Jimin's ass. The playful slaps turned into casual grabs, and we all remember when he straight up squeezed Jimin's butt cheek on stage during PTD in Vegas like it was his birthright. Jikook pt3 : The ass chronicles.

And THEN they enlisted together. Not like "Oh what a coincidence" or "Same week, same day, how sweet", no. These two signed up for the BUDDY PROGRAM. Like, the official military bestie package where you apply as a pair and get placed together. That's not "we happened to align schedules". That's "we legally want to be stuck with each other for the next 18 months or we're not going". Besties don't do that. Husbands do that. They're out here planning government service like it's a honeymoon lol

And let's not ignore the energy lately. The way "certain things" keep popping up that scream "married and living together".

So no, i don't care what anyone says. Jikook aren't "Just friends". They're not even just dating. They've been cosmically handfasted since 2015 and i'm just a civilian living in their universe. The only thing missing is the wedding livestream.

[star-sim]

hello kitty meets batman (real not clickbait!) ☆ jake sim

☆ youtuber! super down bad! bf! jake x youtuber! fem! reader ☆summary: jake sim was youtube's cut-throat, horror creator, known for his dark video style. meanwhile, you were the cutesy beauty vlogger, lighting up every algorithmically generated home page you touched. no one would have expected you two vastly different people to know each other, let alone be in a long-term relationship. ☆ genre: fluff, youtuber! au, secret dating! au, established relationship, suggestive, im sorry im never letting the ytber au go, cutesy!reader, jake is SO down bad its kinda painful #patheticmen ☆warning(s): no, just fluffy, also reader is really feminine and girly in this ☆ word count: 13.4k words ☆ wrote half of this in spanish class so im sorry if there are mistakes, first time writing established relationship in full, kinda nervy

Jake Sim was many things.

One of the most popular and well-respected content creators on Youtube was one of them.

As Jake's nimble fingers darted across his keyboard, his other hand rested firmly on his mouth, he thought that the blue light emitting from his computer screen should burn his eyes. Except, it didn't. Despite what most people thought, 90% of being Youtuber was just simply staring at a computer screen, rather than being in front of a camera lens. The man felt his nose prickle before he let out a soundless, but satisfying, yawn. He leaned back against his office chair, stretching his neck and arms before he rubbed his eyes.

There was a reason that he was an extremely respected creator on Youtube.

For one, the production quality of his videos were high. Down to the Closed Captions or his camera's grain, Jake's attention to detail was immaculate. Not to mention, the content itself was magnificent. 

Whenever people asked Jake what he did for work, it was hard for him to answer.

He'd said that he made horror content, but he'd only earned incredulous looks, like he was a madman. Even then, "horror" content wasn't the correct description.

In short, Jake liked to make videos about obscure things. Which just so happened to be a little spooky. Sketchy true crime cases, searches for lost media, strange Internet phenomena, government cover-ups— Name anything a little bit eerie and Jake probably already covered something of that sort on his channel. Given the nature of his content, Jake almost always maintained a serious tone, but when the opportunity came to offer his opinion, he liked to relay it in a straightforward way. 

Another reason why he was so regarded was because of his content style. He preferred using darker colors, having a crisp microphone that picked up every rasp of his deeper voice. When he had camera shots, Jake liked to be in a dimly lit room. Unfortunately, his room was dark, too. 

This all combined together to create a singular image for Jake: the cool, high-quality, but a little bit scary, guy that likes to make videos about scary topics.

Now cracking his knuckles, Jake sucked in a sharp breath. Although he could easily export his upcoming video now and upload it, garnering millions of views, he refused to. There was something missing from it; it needed a little umph, a little embellishment to really pull things together. If there was one thing about Jake, it was that he'd put quality over quantity any day.

Jake is torn out of his thoughts when his phone, long forgotten next to his mouse, lit up. Usually, when he worked long afternoons like this, he silenced his phones in order to maintain focus.

However, there was always one exception.

You.

pretty girl: hi babe, do you think you can help me take promo pictures later?

The moment that Jake saw your contact show up, he picked up his phone immediately. His fingers tapped his screen, quickly responding to you.

me: yeah i can do it rn if you want

pretty girl: if youre busy, it doesn't need to be today, it can be tomorrow or something

pretty girl: oh

pretty girl: are you sure?

Of course he was.

Jake was already shutting off his monitor, grabbing his keys and shoving his feet into his shoes at your first message.

me: yeah i'll come over right now

You were Jake Sim's girlfriend. But other than the people in your personal life, no one else knew that.

Not that either of you minded.

Like Jake, you were a Youtuber. Except, your community was the complete opposite from his.

Your niche was cute makeup and lifestyle. Your videos had cute, blushy sets, characterized by cute plushies in the background and pretty, pink decorations. When you weren't making makeup tutorials or "get ready with me's," you were giving your viewers small sneak-peeks into your life. Whether it be your rosy morning skincare, or your sunny afternoon cooking attempts, or your illuminated late night thoughts, your content was light-hearted, soft, and personable. 

And if you weren't doing any of those things, you were modeling.

You were a beauty influencer, so you had sponsors from different makeup companies and such. What was most distinguishable from your personal brand was that you were one of Sanrio's biggest ambassadors. If there was someone that was the living embodiment of Hello Kitty, it was you.

Your personability, and your ability to feel authentic to your viewers, was a key factor in your large viewerbase. And what contributed to that the most was the fact that you had no idea how to use a camera. One would think that a content creator would know how to use a camera, but you were somehow the exception.

Not a problem!

Because you had your boyfriend, Jake!

Who was basically the master of content creation and film, in your opinion.

"Jakey!" you pounced on your boyfriend the moment he appeared at your apartment doorway. You threw your arms around his neck, immediately peppering his neck and cheeks with kisses. You heard him let out a few chuckles, feeling the rumble of his strong chest as he did. 

"Geez, babe, let me take my shoes off first," Jake teased you, taking in your sweet strawberry perfume. You immediately peeled yourself off of him, your lips forming a cute frown. 

"Shut up," you murmured, punching him on the arm while you jutted your bottom lip out. The lip tint and gloss on them shined, which made Jake grin. And when you noticed that he was staring at your lips, you gave him a gentle shove before saying again, “Shut up, Jakey.”

There it was, his favorite thing about you.

You were so, very, really, undeniably, mean to him.

Okay, that sounded weird.

But it was the truth.

Your relationship could be summed up in a few words—

You were just the cutest, and could barely contain your feelings for Jake, so you'd get all cuddly and affectionate with him. He'd tease you about it, so you'd get all shy and flustered, and you would begin to be mean to him. You'd call him stupid or annoying, and you'd tell him to go away but make no effort to resist his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you against his chest. And then he would get to tease you more, until you were so embarrassed that you relented and let him kiss you.

How could he not resist teasing you?

You were always so pretty, with makeup or not, and it was easy to tease you since you got embarrassed so easily.

Even if he was holding his most expensive camera in his hands, he'd still let you pounce on him, if it meant that he got one extra kiss from you.

You led him to your bedroom. It had the same sweet, strawberry scent as you. Your room was pink, and along the walls were shelves, all filled with the many, many plushies that Jake bought you. Plopping onto your bed, Jake watched as you dug around your filming desk.

"Sooo," he started, "You're gonna do a promotional post on Instagram?"

You hummed. Sanrio recently launched a new line of lip tints, and they sent you their newest ones to review and promote. 

"I already made a review, and it's going to go up later," you said, digging through your drawers. "I want to make a promo post, too, y'know?"

You let out an 'a-ha!' as you found what you were looking for. It was a tube of lip-tint, the newest one from the collection. You then touched up your makeup a little more. 

Jake watched you in awe. The way you applied lip gloss and brushed setting powder (or was it blush? he didn't know anything about makeup) onto your cheeks was so mesmerizing, as you weren't already so captivating to him.

Finally, you stood up, straightening out your outfit. You puckered your lips, and when you noticed Jake staring at you, you gave him a little twirl.

"How do I look?" you asked. 

Jake, with his camera in hand, pointed the lens at you. He looked through the viewfinder.

"Beautiful." 

As always.

The shoot went smoothly. As you always did when Jake was your photographer, the two of you drove to the film studio, renting out a room for a good hour. Jake was a pro with the camera and you were an even bigger pro at modeling. Other than a few compositional edits or changes in exposure, you and Jake were done as soon as you started. The two of you decided that you’d go back to your place, cook dinner together, and maybe watch a movie.

Except that got delayed.

“Y-You’re so annoying, Jake,” you struggled out. You were in the back seat of your car, legs thrown over your boyfriend’s hips, his soft lips connected to your neck. Your fingers gently tugged on his hair, you yourself pressing soft pecks against his forehead and temples. It started because you gave Jake a kiss on the cheek as a ‘thank you,’ which spiraled into a makeout session in your car.

“What,” he breathed against your skin, dark eyes flickering up to yours. “You said you’d do anything to express your thanks for me.”

Jake kissed your neck again, before trailing up your throat to your jaw. Your fingers raked through his soft hair, pushing his dark locks out of his face so that you could see his face clearly. Jake reached up, took your hand out of his hair, and instead held your palm against his cheek, nuzzling into your warm hand. The way your eyes widened into saucers, lips parting, in response made the man’s lips curve upward.

“W-Well I thought you’d ask me to hug you… or something,” you said sheepishly, your voice soft as your boyfriend’s actions flustered you.

Jake grinned to himself internally before pulling away from you altogether. 

“Then do you want to stop?” Your eyes widened a fraction. “Then, let’s go hom—“

“No!” you cut him off, your hands squeezing his shoulders. “Let’s not!”

You stared at him, brows furrowed, for a few moments, before you noticed the growing grin on your boyfriend’s face. That look you knew too well, the one that said that he was going to tease the everlasting fuck out of you.

Jake pulled you in by the waist, close enough so that your chests touched, noses almost brushing against each other. He could feel the heat radiating off your face, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“You sure you don’t wanna stop?” His voice was teasing, but you knew better. The earnest look in his eyes, you stared into yours, was filled with sincerity. He gave your waist a squeeze, almost as if to ask, “Do you actually want this?”

“Yes, Jakey,” you breathed against his lips, matter-of-factly. “I don’t wanna stop.”

The corner of his lips begin to lift.

“So you better kiss me,” you quipped, gripping his shoulders.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he rasped back, before attacking your lips.

(Later, when you were done, you two went home and went about your plan for the night. Except, you had to yell at Jake to go wash his face, because the sight of your lipstick at the corner of his lips was too much for you to take.)

"Hi, everyone!" you greeted the camera, folding your hands in your lap. With your thick, pink, knit sweater's sleeves falling over your wrists, you shot the lens a pretty smile. It was another normal day on the job of making content.

"As you guys know, VidCon is coming up soon." You pulled your makeup pouch toward your chest, leaning against the edge of your filming desk. "So, let's pack with me!"

Vidcon was an event for people to meet all of their favorite Youtubers. This year, you were invited to be one of the featured creators, given your popularity. As you filmed your "Pack with Me!" vlog, surrounded by ring lights aided by your windows cracked open, you recalled the email you had sent earlier, squeezing your eyes shut.

You see, Jake and you were both invited to VidCon. Since no one else, not even Youtube the corporation or your fellow Youtubers, knew that you guys were dating, Jake and you were given vastly different things. Youtube booked an entire hotel complex for all of its creators, and unfortunately, your room was located 10 floors below Jake's room. And worse, your booths and events were so far apart from each other that you probably wouldn't even see your boyfriend even if he decided to traverse the Convention. 

That's what you got for being vastly different content creators.

This year would be the first year that you and Jake got invited to VidCon, and you two wanted to share this experience with each other as much as possible.

Which is why you just shot Youtube one of the most embarrassing emails of your life.

"Hi, Youtube. The hotel complex you booked has a bar, and it is much closer to the top than the bottom. I really want to visit that bar. Can I request a room change so that my room is maybe on the 15th or 16th floors?" except add more formalities and much more discreet language, and that was the email you sent to your employers. You knew that it wouldn't be hard, and that the Youtube PR manager wouldn't reject your request. After all, you were the Sanrio beauty girl. Regardless, you'd gotten a response about an hour ago, and your request was approved, luckily. 

As you continued talking to your camera, folding your clothes neatly while chatting to your viewers about updates in your life, you thought about what you and Jake should do at VidCon. It was in the LA area, but you definitely wanted to visit other places in Southern California. 

It was no surprise that you and Jake had been more than touchy and close to each other. You were dating. Still, butterflies formed in your stomach as you thought about what you would do with him. Your face heated up at the thought of you and him spending time together in the hotel's rooftop hot-tub. The idea of him sneaking in your room at night, warming you up and pepperinging your cheeks with kisses, made your heart rate speed up, and you could only relish in the thought of exploring LA, Irvine, or wherever Jake wanted to take you with him.

You were a grown woman with a job and responsibilities, but the mere thought of your boyfriend being within the same vicinity as you made you nervous.

Just as you finished folding your clothes, you heard your front door crack open.

"Babe?" you hear Jake's voice call out your name. You turn off your camera to greet him, swearing to forget all of the thoughts you just had. Except, the moment that you locked eyes with him, all determination to not be teased left your body. Your lips wobbled, trying to bite back that stupid, bashful, and lovesick smile that made its way onto your face when you thought about Jake, but your eyes gave it all away. Instead of throwing yourself at him like you usually did, you only reached for the hem of his black T-shirt, playing with it sheepishly. 

You mumbled a small, "Hi."

You could feel Jake staring at you, and you could hear the way his lips curve into a smug, shit-eating grin.

"Shut up," you told him, your eyebrows crashing together.

"Baby, I didn't even say anything," Jake said, his hands finding their place on your lower back.

You felt shy and exposed before him. "Well, I know you're going to say something."

Jake grasped your chin, gently making you look at him. You tried to avoid his eyes, but it was impossible to avoid those dreamy, caramel eyes. Then, he took your face with both his hands, leaning in.

Was he going to kiss you? Oh my god, he was! Quick! What do you do? You felt like you were going to melt.

Instinctively, your hands tightened on the hem of his shirt, the black fabric scrunching in your fists. You closed your eyes, your lips softly puckering. You could feel him coming closer and closer, until his breath fanned your cheek.

As if he hadn't kissed you a million times before, your heart felt like it was going to fall out of your chest. 

Jake ghosted his lips over yours, inching just close enough that he could brush his lip against yours. 

And then, he pulled away from you. He took off his shoes, placed down his keys, and made his way into your bedroom, leaving you there standing alone.

Heat spread across your face and neck and ears as you realized your boyfriend had just teased you once again. You hid your face in your palms, letting out a small whine of embarrassment, before recollecting yourself and joining your boyfriend.

"Woah, what's going on here, babe?" Jake asked, standing at your bedroom doorway. 

"Oh." There was clothes and film equipment sprawled across your floor and bed. "I was filming a video."

You saw Jake's expression twitch, before he took your hands in his.

"My bad, was I interrupting something?" He was sincere in how his face showed a small drop of guilt for disrupting your filming. How could someone be such a tease one moment yet be so genuine the next?

"No, it's okay, Jakey," you said. "I mean, I need to finish my video, but I don't mind if you're around."

And that's how you found yourself trying not to burst out laughing as you filmed your video. Jake kept making funny faces at you, that goofy grin growing on his face as he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

"Jake, stop making faces!" you laughed, throwing a shirt at him.

He dodged it, throwing his head back into one of the plushies that he bought you. "I'm not doing anything!"

You threw another shirt at him, this time hitting him square in the face. Instead of admitting defeat, Jake only grabbed your shirt, pulling the fabric to his nose and taking a long, dramatic, sniff. 

"You smell sooooo good, babe," he said, ignoring your contorted expression, "I think I'm gonna keep this. You won't mind, right?"

"Ugh, Jaaaaakee!"

You plopped on top of him in bed. You felt his chest rumble as chuckles left his lips, rolling your eyes at him. You gave his chest a smack, a pout forming on your lips.

"You're so annoying," you mumbled as his hands slithered up to your hips. He gave your ass a pat, gesturing you to adjust your position. You did, sitting up so that you straddled your boyfriend's hips.

"And you're so pretty," he said, squeezing your hipbone.

"Let go of me," you poked him in the chest, but made no attempt to get off of him. 

"No."

"I need to finish my video," you pouted, still not moving to get off of him. 

"I don't care." Jake instead sat up on his elbows, his hands sliding down to your lower back, his face getting suspiciously close to your boobs. "Just lay with me."

Your fingers ran through his dark locks, before giving them a tug towards your chest. Jake laid his cheek against your boobs like they were pillows, arms wrapped around your waist. You could feel his hot breath against your skin and neck. The next thing you knew, he was pressing sticky kisses against your chest and neck, soft gasps escaping your lips.

"Sorry, babe," he muttered against the shell of your ear, "I just can't resist you."

You let out a soft "ahhh!" when he bit down on your skin, his teeth brushing against the nape of your neck. Jake briefly pulled away, a smirk making its way onto his face as he admired the red-purple mark on your neck. 

"You're just too addicting."

Long story short, your video was still finished and uploaded. As Jake edited his video, he let yours play in the background, your bright voice illuminating his dark room. Somehow, your voice was the only thing that made him focus. 

However, when he heard a familiar laugh— his laugh— in your video, Jake stopped in his tracks.

His mind flashed back to what happened the other day in your apartment, when he interrupted you during your filming.

"I don't know if I turned off my camera, Jake," you had purred as Jake's tongue dipped into your collarbone. At that point, both you and him were shirtless, hair disheveled and pupils blown out with desire. Jake remembered the electricity that ran through him as those words left your lips.

"Am I supposed to care?" he had muttered, trailing kisses down your chest. "If they hear us, that's not my problem."

It was almost like you, who edited your video, added that clip to tease him. 

Immediately, his cheeks began turning the brightest shade of red possible. If you were here, he would have only coughed and looked away shyly, but since he was alone, his embarrassment spread across his face like a wildfire. Jake almost never showed it when he was flustered, at least when he was around you. 

He hid his face in his palms, sucking in a sharp breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, warmth prickling his skin. You were going to be the death of him. He let out a small, lovesick giggle, one that his friends would flame him for. He couldn't help it, not if it was you. 

When he read the comments, still flustered out of his mind, he felt a twinge of disappointment when no one seemed to notice him. 

For some reason, Jake couldn’t help but want people to know that you were his. He knew that you and him kept your relationship private to preserve it, but he still wanted to show you off.

Except, one comment caught his eye.

“Wait, does [Name] have a boyfriend? Who laughed at 6:34?” it read. Jake’s heart skipped a beat in his chest. The warmth that spread across his chest as his lips pulled upwards. He almost wanted to jump on his bed and roll around while giggling like a schoolgirl, but he contained himself.

At the corner of his eye, Jake spotted a certain plushie. 

As you were a partner of Sanrio, for a time there was a Limited Edition [Name] plushie, clad in pink with a cute, ruffle-lace bow to top it all off. Of course he bought one the moment it launched. Jake preferred his room to be completely dark and black, but he liked to keep that plushie on his bed, and although he’d never admit it, he hugged it when he slept if you weren’t with him.

Would it be wrong of him to tease you back? After all, Jake still had to film the brand deal for his new video. 

Would it hurt to position the plushie just enough so that it was in frame? 

So that maybe someone would see it.

Vidcon came crashing on you and Jake like a meteor, and before the two of you knew it, you were in the venue, wringing your fingers as the event commenced.

Sometimes, it was difficult for you to comprehend the level of your popularity. Sure, the numbers that Youtube loved to display for you told you that you had millions watching you, but mere numerical figures were simply not enough for you to wrap your mind around.

Your schedule that day was simple: you were going to have a booth that you'd tend to for an hour or two, where your fans could take pictures with you and take a few freebies with them. Then, you'd go to your main event, which was in a smaller venue.

At your booth, where you sat currently, your personal table was set up in a very special way: your table was pink, and covered in a lacy, white tablecloth. Even the wall behind you was specifically painted pink and decorated with various Sanrio-esque decorations. You had stickers that you'd give out, as well as a Limited Edition Vidcon Sanrio plushie of you that people could buy. The pink polaroid decorated with Hello Kitty stickers hung around your neck with a pink lanyard. You genuinely looked like Sanrio and Hello Kitty vomited all over you, but you didn't mind. And plus, that didn't matter, because you were cute either way.

You were hit with pure surprise as multiple groups of fans came your way. The amount of people that came to you, rambling nervously about how much they loved you, how much they looked up to you, how much you inspired them and made their days better, made you feel light-headed. And very warm inside.

Jake was the one that did the talking for you (thank goodness!), but for some reason, you pushed through your usual shyness, instead wanting for people to come up to you and talk.

Your face lit up as one of your fans, a girl that looked around your age, maybe only a few years younger than you, approached you. You could tell by the Sanrio sticker of you on her phone case that she was most definitely here for you.

"Oh my gosh, hi [Name]!" She gazed at you with wide, glimmering eyes. 

Your initial reaction was surprise, but then you broke out into a smile. You cocked your head, fingers gripping the hem of your dress, both nervous and excited. "Hi, there."

You fan took one look at your face, and squealed. The way that she giggled, bouncing on her feet as she fangirled over you made warmth spread across your cheeks, getting shy and looking down briefly.

"I'm sorry, [Name]!" Your fan couldn't stop giggling, which you thought was very cute. It was now that you noticed the camera in your hand. "I just really love your content, and I'm just so excited to meet you in real life!"

You blinked at her a few times, before you smile only widened. 

"Don't worry about it!" you said, taking her free hand in yours. Your shyness melted away as your fan squealed again. "It really means a lot to me that you came out here to personally see me."

Your eyes flickered over to her camera, squeezing her hand and motioning to it with your other. "Can I...?"

She nodded enthusiastically, so you took her camera. Turn on the 'photo' setting, you posed for the camera, taking multiple pictures of yourself for her. You hoped that that would make up for your shyness. The two of you hugged, and you took many polaroids for her.

Almost immediately, after she left, you were tagged in a Twitter thread. It was that fan, reporting her experience with you.

"She was so much prettier in real life, I thought I was in heaven," her tweets detailed, "And [Name] was so sweet! It felt like I was meeting the real life Hello Kitty."

She posted the pictures you took on her camera, and then the videos. You couldn't help but grin like an idiot, especially at the comments (and the rapidly-accumulating likes and retweets).

"The way [Name] gets so shy is so cute!"

"I don't really watch beauty content but I love [Name] so much."

"She's like an actual Disney Princess."

You loved your fans, you really did. You were grateful for them, and you thought they were very cute. 

You were excited to see how Vidcon would treat you.

Jake was fighting.

He was fighting demons, wars, the little voices in his head.

Did you have to look so pretty today?

Jake's own event was an entire venue away from yours. He had a few events, so after his first one, he took a small break, where he looked through his notifications. 

Of course, the first thing he looked at was your texts. They were from a while ago, during his show when he didn't have his phone on him, so he responded to them now. He smiled at your cute texts, expressing how excited and happy you were. His heart jumped out of his chest when he saw the selfie you sent him: there you were, in all your cutesy Sanrio glory, smiling so prettily for him. Jake had to clasp his face to hide the stupid, love-struck grin that bled onto his face. 

"Oi, what're you giggling about?" Jake was interrupted by Jay, another one of his fellow horror Youtubers.

Jake immediately wiped his expression clean. "Nothing."

When he glanced back at his phone, that dumb grin began to form again.

Jay groaned. "This is so weird. It's like watching Batman smile."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jake scoffed.

"I'm sayin' that you're basically Youtube's Batman," Jay scrunched his nose, "And it's weird seein' you all... smiley and stuff."

"I literally smiled earlier!"

"Not in the way that you did just now. I have a bad feeling about it."

"Shut up!"

Jake really tried his best to swallow back his pure admiration for you as he opened his phone screen again, but he failed miserably.

He wished he could see you right now. He loved to see his fans, he loved to talk to them about their shared interest: all things horror and obscure.

But Jake missed you right now.

His heart plummeted to his stomach, however, when he logged onto Twitter, and saw the worst hashtag he could ever think of: #[Name]isSoCute.

He agreed with it. No, he embraced that sentiment with every molecule in his being.

Just... he wished that he could see you right now. When he checked the tag and saw all the cute pictures that people took of you and the sweet experiences they had with you, he frowned— That should be him!

However, Jake actually saw the worst thing to ever materialize when he saw the top video under the tag.

It was a shaky video, starting off with a teenage boy walking up to you. In the background, he could hear your pretty voice in the background, exchanging small greetings and words with the poster. Jake was almost lost in his sheer love for you when his eyes narrowed. The boy in the video let out a little chuckle, before dropping a cheesy pick-up line on you.

"[Name], if you were a vegetable, you'd be a cute-cumber." What made it worse was that you only giggled, leading the boy to drop a few other dumb pick-up lines. The camera panned up to you, showing you all smiley and bashful. Then, you and the boy hugged, before taking a few polaroids together.

Jake almost snapped his phone in half.

He understood better than anyone that you were a content creator just like him. It was part of the job to interact with fans, and given your character, of course you were sweet to them. He could tell that you were perfectly comfortable in the video, and that the kid probably was just joking around with his favorite Youtuber.

But did that stop Jake from mentally lambasting every single aspect of the video? Absolutely not.

Shaky camera, probably filmed on a phone, Jake's hands balled into fists, Fucked up aperture, exposure to low, bad mic.

Was he being a little immature? Yes, and Jake knew that. 

Though, Jake would admit that he agreed with a lot of comments and retweets under that post, hearting many of them in agreement.

"[Name] is such a cutie!" one read.

Absolutely.

"I love her so much," another read.

Me too, Jake thought.

"I want her so bad."

Just as Jake's finger hovered over the 'heart' button, he let out a small hmph. Did it annoy him that other people wanted you? Yes. But did he disagree with the comment? Nope. He pressed the "like" button.

He wanted to see you so bad. As Jake was queued up on stage, ready for his second event, he hoped that he could see you soon.

And his wish came true a few hours later.

It was now past noon, and Vidcon was in its (unofficial) intermission period, where a lot of the creators were now taking breaks. As Jake traversed the convention, he texted you trying to find a spot where the two of you could meet.

He passed the many booths and venues of his fellow Youtubers. The layout was unique in the way that Youtubers of similar genres were placed in similar areas. So when he started seeing Youtubers with bright makeup and problematic pasts, Jake knew that he was near you.

And lo and behold, soon he found you. Under the fluorescent light, you still glowed. There was some kind of halo around you as you turned over your shoulder, your face instantly brightening up as you spotted your boyfriend. You had a few fans that you were talking to at the moment, so you tended to them first, while Jake made his way over to you.

You and Jake agreed that you wouldn't make your relationship too obvious at Vidcon, but all of that was left forgotten the moment that Jake saw you. 

However, as you ran up to him, people couldn't help but stop and stare.

Why wouldn't they? You were the living embodiment of Sanrio, that one Hello Kitty girl, whereas Jake was that one guy that made scary content and was often shrouded in darkness, dubbed as Youtube's personal Batman. Absolutely no one would have expected to see the two of you interacting with one another, let alone be within the same vicinity.

"Hi, Jakey," you smiled up at him, and Jake thought that he could die right there. With the amount of people staring, Jake had to restrain himself from throwing his arms around you and hugging you.

"Hey, baby," he grinned. 

Before either of you could do anything, you and Jake were interrupted by a shrill squeal. You whipped your heads around to see a young girl and her older brother, who still looked relatively young. They explained nervously that the girl liked your content, while the brother liked Jake's content. They were expecting to scour in order for each of them to meet either of you, but were surprised to see you and Jake in one place.

You and Jake took a few pictures with them, both individually. Though, the two of them requested a picture with both you and Jake in the same frame, which you happily did.

When they left, you and Jake shared a look, before going off together.

Vidcon Day 1: Over.

Jake returned to his hotel room, too tired to do anything other than wash up and order room service. 

As Jake laid in his half-hard hotel mattress, he scrolled through his phone. He was tagged in a lot of pictures and tweets, and he found himself grinning at a lot of the sweet words his fans left. Although he was tired, he could definitely do this a few more times, feeling invigorated by his fans.

As he scrolled, the trending Twitter hashtag caught his eye.

#HelloKittyMeetsBatman.

Interesting name, he thought as he clicked on it.

Jake's heart skipped a beat as he saw what came up.

Apparently, people were extremely surprised to see you and Jake so close to each other. 

There were so many pictures of you and him taken together from afar just from that one instance earlier, from multiple different angles and distances. Jake would admit, the way he was dressed in all black while you were dressed in cute pinks and whites was almost laughable.

What truly caught his attention were the captions of all these pictures.

"Craziest crossover of 2024."

"I'm crying they legitimately look like Hello Kitty and Batman."

"Jake Sim and [Name] interacting was not on my Vidcon 2024 bingo card."

"This is like seeing two worlds collide, absolutely wild but I'm pleasantly surprised."

For the most part, it seemed like everyone just thought that you and Jake were friends, but it was still a little funny how taken aback the entire internet was.

Then, he saw the picture of you, him, and those two kids together. 

"They look like a family," was one of the most popular retweets under that post. 

Family.

That word rang through Jake's head, before he buried his face in one of the pillows, giggling to himself. He felt a little ridiculous getting so excited over such a small comment, but he couldn't help it. He felt so giddy inside at the thought of having a family with you, and felt even giddier knowing that people could see it, too.

Suddenly, his phone rang. Jake wasn't going to answer it, too caught up in his flustered-ness, but when he realized that it was you, he quickly cleared his throat, instinctively straightening out his hair (because what if he accidentally turns on his camera?-- he needed to look good for you!).

"Baby," he greeted suavely, as if he wasn't just giggling like a schoolgirl seconds ago.

Maybe it was the fact that it was already getting late, or the fact that Jake barely saw you today, or the fact that you were just so goddamn perfect, but your voice sounded so attractive in that moment.

"Jakeyyy," you whined. "Come over."

His chest was already throbbing but Jake played it cool.

He chuckled. "What for?"

"I miss you," he could hear the pout in your voice. "And I want your attention."

It was rare for you to be so direct with him, and while Jake wanted to melt on the spot, he wanted to tease you a bit longer.

"What's wrong with just being on the phone with me?" Jake's lips pulled into a smirk. "You can just talk to me like this."

"Noooo," you said. "I want— I want you."

Jake tried his best to not crumble then and there, but it was too hard.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. "Okay then, baby. I'll come over right now."

He didn't miss the cute little "yay!" you let out before you hung up.

You were going to be the death of him.

"Eep! Jake, what are you doing here—?!”

You’re cut off when you realized that you were, in fact, backstage of one of your events. Today was the second day of Vidcon, and you had just finished up your first event. As you went backstage, carrying the little bags of gifts that your fans got you, you didn’t expect your own boyfriend to be waiting back there for you.

“Hey there, Princess,” he said cheekily, sprawled across the backstage couch. "Miss me?"

He opened his arms up, and you instinctively crawled into them, sitting on his lap and sliding your arms around his neck. 

As you did, you eyed him up and down.

Clad in black as always, he wore a black button-up, paired with black slacks, a black belt, and a loose, black tie. That's right: today, Jake was going to have a panel with a whole bunch of other horror creators, ones that transcended the internet— authors, authors that Jake spent his whole life reading and looking up to, which explained why he was dressed significantly more proper today than yesterday.

The way his shirt fit his chest and hugged his shoulders made it hard for you to not stare, and the way that it wasn't buttoned at the top, revealing his honey-tan collarbones, mixed with the scent of his rich cologne, made you feel dizzy.

"Ay, are you checkin' me out?"

On any other day, you'd be embarrassed, maybe even pushing him away, but today, you only nodded your head, humming mindlessly in agreement.

Jake blinked at you, before he pulled you in by the waist so that you were flushed against his chest completely.

"Kiss me," you mumbled, pushing his dark bangs away from his face.

Jake chuckled, rubbing your cheek with his knuckles. "What's with you these days? Getting so bold."

You only leaned into his touch. Maybe it was sometime in the LA air, or maybe it was the vigor that your fans gave you earlier, but all you could do was look at your boyfriend with glossy, wide eyes innocently, watching the way that his resolve trembled.

"Shit," Jake cursed under his breath. "Hold on—"

He grabbed your hips, then tilted your chin so that he could have a better angle. Your lips crashed into one another. Not in the way that a meteor would crash into Earth's delicate atmosphere, but in the way that gentle sea waves crashed onto themselves, dark folds of blue creasing over each other, only to brush up against the foamy seashore, none the wiser. 

Jake liked the taste of your lip gloss; it tasted sweet, but not nearly as sweet as you, hungrily squeezing your hips in his hands. He swiped his tongue over your bottom lip, earning a squeal from you, who tugged on his hair. 

When you pulled away from each other, you were breathless, chests heaving not for air, but for each other. You stared at each other for a few moments, losing time in each other's eyes, when your eyes trailed down.

God, the button-up and tie were going to drive you crazy.

Without thought, your fingers twirled around his tie, slinking up his chest before you yanked him harshly, jerking Jake toward you abruptly. 

In a moment of pure, unadulterated boldness, you attacked his neck, laying sticky kisses all across his skin. One hand laced itself in Jake's hair, keeping a firm hold of his tilted head, while your other hand crept around the buttons of his shirt. 

Each soft sigh that Jake let out made you only press more kisses on him. When he let out one particularly loud whine, his arm jerking up to grab at the couch's armrest, you knew that you found the sensitive spot on his neck. You pressed another kiss on that spot, this time sinking your teeth into his skin. The hickey was dark and purple, and when you ran your tongue over it, Jake's hands shot to your hips again.

"Shit, [Name], wait a sec—"

Skillfully, your fingers began to slowly unbutton Jake's shirt, just enough that you could see more of his chest. 

Your head was feeling fuzzy now, drunk off your desire for him. The way he threw his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing with each gulp of air he took in, curses falling from his lips, sent electricity coursing through your body.

When you unbuttoned the last button, you noticed the way Jake's eyes were squeezed shut, his other arm resting over them, hands balled into fists as his desperation for you increased.

"Jakey," you said. Jake was going to go mad, the way your voice was so soft and innocent as it said his name, all the while you were kissing and touching him in ways that made him go light-headed. He squeezed his eyes shut, another whimper escaping his lips. If he looked you in the eye right now, he was sure that he'd burst. "I want you to look at me."

He couldn't refuse you. Immediately, he opened his eyes, the arm strewn over his face dropping back to its position on your hips.

If he didn't die by combustion, Jake was certain that he'd die now— Your pupils were blown out, eyes lidded and staring at him like he was your prey to be slaughtered. He'd seen you wrought with desire so many times before, but the way you gazed at him like he was a piece of meat, like you were going to absolutely ruin him, made him feel weak.

"Watch me, Jakey," your voice sounded so sweet, but your actions said otherwise. You abruptly got up from your seat on his lap, Jake frowning at the loss of your touch. You dug through your purse thrown across the room, returning with a tube of lipstick.

You plopped back onto Jake's lap, making sure that he was watching as you applied it to your pretty, swollen lips. 

Then, you discarded it, throwing your lipstick to the side as you snatched his tie again. You brought the black fabric to your lips, staring your boyfriend down as you pressed kisses on his tie. You kissed it a few times, making sure that the color of your lipstick, as well as the shape of your lips, was well-imprinted on it.

Then, you yanked his shirt's collar toward you, pressing a harsh kiss on the fabric, making sure that the shape of your lips was once again imprinted on the fabric.

You looked back up at his face, unable to hide your smugness as his entire expression was painted with red.

"You're so hot—" Jake attempted to force out of his throat, but you only cut him off with a rough kiss to his lips. Without a word, you covered his face, from his forehead to his jaw, with kisses.

You pulled back to admire your work, before you pulled away from him.

"I have to be on stage in a few minutes," you said quietly, your back turned to him as you straightened out your skirt. Dumbfounded, Jake could only stare at you, but when you turned over your shoulder, flashing him a bright, but terribly cheeky, grin, Jake's heart fell out of chest. "I can't be late, right?"

With that, you left your boyfriend, all hot and bothered, on the couch, running off to prepare for your next event.

Almost immediately, Jake melted. He threw an arm over his eyes as he leaned back, letting out a groan.

Was this how you felt when he teased you?

Was he now sexually frustrated? Absolutely. But now he wanted you even more.

After mulling over it for a few minutes, Jake began to go back to his venue. But, as he passed the backstage vanity, he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

Some of it was obvious to him already: disheveled hair, messed up shirt. But what made Jake want to evaporate was the sight of his entire face and neck covered in lipstick marks. The corner of his lip had a big lipstick smudge, the hickey that you gave him earlier was so dark now, and he couldn't even dare to forget your lip imprints on his shirt and tie.

You little tease.

Jake's last straw was.... right now.

After the backstage fiasco, he didn't get to see you all day. That night, you had a PR event to attend with your fellow beauty creators, so he didn't get to see you at night either.

Which was why Jake was practically glowing with a dark and negative storm cloud as he pranced around the third day of Vidcon. It didn't help that he saw so many pictures of you and fans all across platforms. Poor guy almost lost it when one of your fans' vlogs blew up, the most replayed part being when you let out the most angelic and sweet laughs he'd ever heard in his life.

That should be him!

Meanwhile, Jake sat in the convention room at a panel. Lined up along the table were other horror creators, from authors to Youtubers to filmmakers, similar to yesterday. The way that this specific event operated was simple: fans got to ask anyone on the panel questions and they'd answer, which the entire room got to hear, and later there would be one-on-ones along the panel.

Jake was pulled out of his thoughts when one of the fans said that they had a question for him.

"Jake, your videos take a long time to make, how do you balance work and your personal life?"

Good question. He had a simple principle when it came to how to balance everything. Jake thought about it for a moment, before reaching for his microphone.

"I don't have any outright method," he began. Jake's mind flashed with your image: all the cute messages you'd send him throughout the day, all the times where after hours of rotting in front of his computer screen he could always count on your loving embrace to give him life, all times that he'd tune into your Spotify playlist so that he could be listening to what you were listening. It was easy to balance work and life, if it was you. "But I always put my life before the screen."

The room was quiet, intently listening to what Jake had to say. After all, he was renowned all across the Internet.

The room was quiet, intently listening to what Jake had to say. After all, he was renowned all across the Internet.

"To be clear, I understand the privilege of getting to work in a profession like mine," Jake continued. "I don't expect everyone to be able to follow my advice exactly, but the more I live, the more I realize that what happens before my very eyes will endlessly matter so much more than what happens in my own little Youtube bubble."

Jake's mouth jumped to you faster than his mind could stop him.

"My beautiful girlfriend is everything to me," he unconsciously began to grin stupidly to himself, "I'd put her above work any day if I had to."

The moment that those words left his lips, the room erupted with gasps and whispers.

"Wait, you have a girlfriend?!" one of Jake's Youtuber friends asked, leading the room to laugh.

Oh.

Shit.

Jake's eyes visibly widened. He clutched his microphone, bringing it up to his mouth, but no words came out.

There was no way in hell that he'd outright deny you, not even in a million years.

"I.... Well..." Jake stammered, trying his best to generate any words at all. He sucked in a sharp breath, a bashful expression making its way onto his face. "That's..."

The room filled with more laughter, alongside the teasing grins and pats on the back that Jake got from his colleagues.

"Oh, so that's what you were giggling about yesterday, lover boy..." Jay, also on the panel, quipped, his brows raised so high on his forehead that it could have touched his hairline.

"Sh-Shut up, Jay!"

Jake's chest felt fizzy. In a weird way.

A part of him felt on-edge. You and him always wanted to keep your relationship secret, for the sake of preserving it. He'd seen what the Internet did to relationships: it tore them apart. It wasn't like he name-dropped you, but he felt so... exposed, so vulnerable.

But at the same time, Jake felt his chest also swell with pride. That's right. He had a girlfriend (a hot girlfriend at that), a girlfriend that he was nefariously down bad for. He hoped everyone knew that, that he was taken and that if there was anyone that he'd spend the rest of his life with, it would be you.

Jake huffed. "Yeah, I have a girlfriend. What about it?"

No one questioned him further. Probably out of fear.

You were in the middle of trying your best to get through a conversation with some beauty guru that you knew one thing about: their personal makeup line launch failed horribly and they gave everyone hairy lipsticks. It was difficult, to say the least.

Exchanging your final regards, you quickly rushed back to your booth.

The first thing you saw when you checked your phone was a viral video, in which Jake admitted that he had a girlfriend. Your heart plummeted to your stomach when you initially read the caption, but when you watched the video, you had a difficult time processing your feelings.

Did you hate that Jake admitted that he had a girlfriend? … No, you didn’t. You didn’t at all. At a certain point, seeing the way that your boyfriend smiled so earnestly made your heart jump out of your chest. The way he was so giddy and smiley (of course, only you could tell that that was how he was feeling— to everyone else it probably looked like he was brooding) made your neck and cheeks warm up.

But, the way that the room erupted with voices and laughter, combined with the quirked brows of everyone on the panel, made you quiver.

You weren’t prepared for it, for how vulnerable you felt as a chorus of “ooh’s” filled the room.

Frankly, there were too many things that you had to focus on at the moment. You'd rather enjoy Vidcon now, and address it later, when things settle down. 

Pushing it to the back of your mind, you tucked your phone away, greeting another wave of fans. Though, not without taking an extra second to "heart" the post, adding it to your favorites folder, and rewatching the video one more time, feeling warmth and giddiness filling your chest.

As the cool night air kissed your cheeks, you fought the shy smile that seeped onto your face. It was late now, late enough that you could see all the city lights gleaming, lighting up the dark sky with blotches of all different colors.

There was a Vidcon party for creators, to celebrate the end of the event. Everyone was going. Although it was meant for any creator, there was a very exclusive VIP section; only those of high prestige could get in. Both you and Jake were invited, but upon realizing that nearly the entire hotel complex would be empty due to the popularity of the party, the two of you ditched it.

You'd been wanting to go to the rooftop hottub for a while now, but you never went because you wanted to go with Jake, and it was always too crowded for the two of you to go there comfortably. But now that everyone was gone, it was the perfect time.

Your boyfriend was already waiting for you up there, towel thrown over his shoulder with a shirt and swim trunks. His face lit up the moment he saw yours emerging from the elevator doors, rushing over to you to take your hands.

He paused for a moment. His dark eyes peered at yours, licking his lips before sucking in a sharp breath. Jake gave your forehead a peck, before saying a small "C'mon" and pulling you over to the hottub.

Jake took your towel for you, folding it next to his and perching it on a sunchair.

"They're gonna get off fireworks soon— Oh, damn," he cut himself off as you pulled your shirt over your head, revealing a bikini top. Your face scrunched up, squirming under his gaze. It's not like Jake has never seen you like this (in fact, he'd seen you in much more compromising positions), and it wasn't like he never complimented you, but as the hottub bubbled, the rosy scent of the water filling the air, you felt shy.

Jake slinked toward you, taking his own shirt off. 

"Hey there, Gorgeous," he said, his fingers playing with the hem of your shorts that had yet to be taken off. Your heart pounded in your chest, fighting the urge to squeeze your eyes shut and groan in embarrassment. You kept your eyes glued to the ground. Jake chuckled softly, before clutching your chin gently, making you look up at him.

"Don't get shy on me now, babe," Jake grinned when your lips pressed into an unconscious pout. He squished your cheek, relishing in the look of confusion painted across your face. Then, his hands fell to your hips, pulling them toward his. "You look so beautiful."

Jake's fingers hooked onto the hem of your shorts, meeting your eyes for permission before pulling them down himself, revealing your bikini bottoms.

Jake's eyes glazed over your figure, taking his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"Jaaakee," you whined, squeezing his hands.

"Sorry," Jake's eyes flickered up to your face. "I can't help it. You're just so hot, baby."

You rolled your eyes, biting back shyness, before you pulled him toward the hottub.

You rolled your eyes, biting back shyness, before you pulled him toward the hottub. 

The two of you got into the tub, sinking into the warm water, you felt your limbs relax. 

Vidcon was very fun, some of the most fun you've had in a while. But, it was very tiring, having to be around so many people at a time. And plus, it was hard not seeing your boyfriend whenever you wanted.

You pulled your knees to your chest. You could hear the loud techno music a few blocks away, probably coming from the club nearby. The bright night lights of LA was something that you could only imagine sleeping under.

Other than the sound of the city bustles, the hot tub’s jet system, and the occasional ripple of water, the night was silent.

“How was your day?” Jake broke the calm silence. The way the blueish water reflected off his skin made you dizzy.

“Good,” You cursed your voice for being so small. You swallowed the lump in your throat. You didn’t know why you felt so nervous. It was your boyfriend, for goodness’s sake!

Jake loved it when you were shy, but sometimes he was genuinely worried about you. Part of why he loved you was the game that was trying to figure out what was going on in that pretty head of yours.

He reached out for you, clutching your knee. "Baby, what's wrong?"

Your stomach churned. For a second, you thought about that video of him admitting that he had a girlfriend. It made your skin crawl, but when your boyfriend squeezed your knee, it all stopped.

"Nothing," you said simply.

There's a few pulses of silence, before Jake clicked his tongue.

"H-Hey—!"

Jake got up from the water, wrapping his hands around your waist, and hoisted you up so that your legs were thrown on either side of the body, before sitting back down so that you were perched right on top of his lap.

Your chest, nearly bare, pressed against his own bare chest in a way that made your heart race. The warmth of his skin as it contacted yours was an addicting feeling, enhanced only by the warm water surrounding you. Either it was the steam from the tub, or the heat collecting between the two of your bodies, that rose to your cheeks.

You rested your hands on his chest, your fingertips barely reaching his broad shoulders, while Jake’s hands stayed in their spot around your waist.

"C'mon," you could feel Jake's warm, strong chest rumble beneath you. "Tell me what's wrong."

Under the sky, his eyes gleamed, like two gems. For the flirt that he was, Jake was too genuine and pure of a person. The sincere worry in his eyes made you feel warm, even warmer than you felt right now. And sometimes that was enough for you.

You leaned into him, your hands coming up to cup his face. You rubbed your thumbs against his cheeks, to which he let his eyelids fall shut, relishing in the comfort that was your presence. Every time your thumb pressed against his lips, he kissed them, unable to hide the smile growing on his lips when you giggled softly.

At the corner of your eye, you spotted the purple hickey you left on him the other day. That combined with his wet hair, the water droplets temptingly running down his chest, and the fact that you were right on top of him made you feel light-headed.

Your hands left his face, and Jake opened his mouth to whine about it, but was shut up when your fingers tangled in his damp hair, pulling him in for a kiss.

It was a soft, innocent kiss, the type you gave when you just wanted to be close to him. Jake hummed against your lips, squeezing your thighs. You pulled away first, but Jake gently guided the back of your head back to his, pecking your lips.

"I just missed you," you said. You kissed his cheek. "I really missed you."

"It's only been a day," Jake teased you, but he knew better than anyone that he had absolutely no right to say that to you: he was practically dying each moment he couldn't see you.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, staring into each other's eyes. You held onto his strong shoulders, eyes glued to his lips. You were feeling needy, needy in the way that you simply wanted to be close to Jake. You were already close to him, but you wanted to be even closer. Your heart thirsted for it.

Then, you heard a rustle, whipping your head around toward the sound.

"Nuh-uh," Jake whispered in your ear, gently holding your face and guiding it to look at him. "I want you to look at me."

It wasn't until a few seconds later that you understood why Jake's tone sounded so teasing: he was referencing you and him the other day backstage. 

"Stoppp," you whined, pushing your face into his neck. "You're so annoying."

Jake laughed, his chest rumbling. He stopped to admire the way you were all pressed up against him. He could feel every curve of your body, and he could feel the way your cheeks puffed with air, your lips forming a pout. He poked your cheek.

"You're so cute, baby."

"I know."

"What's with you getting so bold?"

"You're annoying me."

"Awww, you love me so—"

Fireworks fired off in the distance, painting the gray-blue sky with bright colors. 

You stayed in your position, only your eyes moving upward to admire the show. However, Jake stayed staring straight at you, practically ignoring the fiery flowers forming in the sky. He gazed into your eyes, watching the reflection in them.

"It's so pretty," you murmur.

"Yeah," Jake felt like he was falling into your eyes, "So pretty."

Just as another round of fireworks shot up into the sky, Jake grabbed your face, crashing his lips onto yours. Your lips fit into each other well, like puzzle pieces, in a way that was so satisfying, almost like you were made for kissing Jake. But for all of the desire and roughness that the kiss was filled with, it was a soft one. 

Jake swiped his tongue over your bottom lip, making you squeal and giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. His hands kneaded your body, roaming all over you with no intention of leaving a single part of your skin untouched. Likewise, you gripped his biceps, digging your nails into his skin to keep yourself grounded.

"Fuck—" Jake mumbled against your lips, only to get cut off by your lips attacking his— "Wait—"

Jake tasted sweet, like candy. He tasted like home, like love, like everything was going to be okay no matter what. How could you pull away now? 

"B-Baby, wait—"

"Stop talking, Jakey," you pulled away briefly, only to bite his lip, pulling on the pink flesh with your teeth. You let your tongue roam his mouth, feeling the warmth as your own hands began to wander his toned chest. 

"Just kiss me," you breathed.

You kept Jake like this for a few more minutes, trapping him in the heaven that was your lips. But when your bikini top began to untie at the back, something that Jake noticed immediately, he ripped away from you.

Something in his eyes had changed.

Quietly, he tied your bikini top back for you, ignoring your confused (and very breathless) gaze.

"If you keep doing what you do to me," he began into your ear, "I don't know if I'll be able to control myself."

With that, Jake threw you over his shoulder as he hoisted himself up to his feet. He grabbed everything that you brought to the rooftop, throwing your towel over you and ignoring you fussing.

"W-Where are we goin—?!"

"Back to my room."

You were in for a night.

You and Jake were going to stay in LA for a little while longer after Vidcon, so you extended your stay in the same hotel rooms.

After last night, Jake and you fell asleep in his bed. 

It was going to be the best, Jake thought. Neither of you had anywhere to be, anyone to put on a show for. The two of you could sleep in for as long as you'd like. It didn't really matter to him, as long as he could wake up with you in his arms, he'd be all right.

Which is why Jake's heart dropped to his stomach when he woke up to you already dressed, pacing around the room nervously.

"Baby?" Jake was alarmed, even as he rubbed his sleepy eyes. "Baby, what happened?"

You whipped your head over to him, your expression pinch and painted with anxiety. 

"Check your phone," you muttered as you chewed your lip.

Jake did as you said. The moment he opened up his phone, his screen was filled with text messages from everyone: his colleagues, his friends, heck even his own mother. He was tagged in about a thousand posts all across his social media accounts, and his Youtube home page was plastered with his face. But not only his face. Your face too.

What caught his eye was an article from a major Internet news source that made its round across every platform.

Its headline?

Jake Sim and [Name] [Last Name] are reported to be dating.

The worst part was the cover page.

It was a photo of you and Jake, together in the hottub last night, with your arms thrown around his neck with your lips connected. When he read more into it, the photo evidence got more and more specific. Close-up pictures of Jake's neck to reveal a hickey and lipstick mark on his shirt, your smudged lipstick, a screenshot of the Sanrio plush in one of his videos, even that clip of his laugh in the background of one of your videos. Of course, the most crucial one was that clip of Jake admitting that he had a girlfriend.

This was what he wanted, wasn't it? For everyone to know about you, to be able to show you off.

Objectively, this was bound to happen.

But as Jake watched you pace around, your hands shaking as you looked like you were about to cry, he didn't feel the pride that he thought he would feel if everyone knew. He didn't feel happy, he didn't feel excited that he got to show you off. All he felt was a mix of guilt and anger.

And before he could reach out to hold your hand and pull you close, you quietly said that you were going to go on a walk, and left the hotel room.

The quiet that filled the hotel room was piercing. Jake stilled in his spot, still groggy and disheveled.

Had he always been like this?

He swore that at the beginning of your relationship, he took every measure to keep it private. Because you asked him to. Because he respected you.

Why did he throw it all away? 

He agreed to keep things private. 

But now he put you in an uncomfortable position and an even more vulnerable position than you'd ever been in before. 

Was he a bad boyfriend? Were you going to break up with him? Would your relationship with him ever be the same? That made Jake's heart palpitate. He couldn't lose you. No, he'd die. But then again, he fucked up, he knew that.

Jake ran a hand through his hair. This was an asshole move.

But he couldn't help feeling his fingers twitch for his phone when it ding'd.

The first thing he saw when he opened up Twitter were tweets at him.

And they were surprisingly... supportive?

"Emo boyfriend, cute girlfriend, the best combo!"

"Sending love to both of you. Hope you're doing well. We support you."

"I'm very pleasantly surprised."

"This is literally like Hello Kitty and Batman meeting this is crazy"

But as he scrolled deeper, he found more obscure comments.

"Feel so bad for [Name]. Her boyfriend is a freak."

"He doesn't deserve her."

And the nail in the coffin:

"No wonder they kept it a secret. I'd hide it too if someone like that was my boyfriend."

Why did you keep your relationship with him secret? Jake knew the answer to that: you just wanted to keep your personal life private.

But as Jake plunged himself deeper and deeper into the hole that was the media, he could only imagine alternative answers, and one stuck out.

Were you ashamed of him? 

Of course you would be.

You were beautiful in every capacity and just the most perfect person in the world. And Jake was just himself. You were always cute, and sometimes, Jake felt like he couldn't keep up with you. You were far out of his league. His content was considered "niche" and "obscure," of course people, maybe even you, considered him a freak.

He was a bastard, and you were a princess. He didn't blame you for being embarrassed about him.

That's why you were so anxious and against your relationship being exposed, right?

No, no, no!

Shut up, shut up, shut up, Jake thought, his hands balling into fists. You wouldn't. He knew you better than anyone, and he knew that you would never be embarrassed about him. You weren't like that, and he was a fool for even thinking of you in that way. He was being insecure and stupid.

But even so, as Jake let all the guilt, shame, anger, and anxiety settle in while he thought of an apology to you, he couldn't help but feel his insecurity seeping in.

You knew that you were overreacting. You shouldn't have left Jake in there all alone, you should have sat down and talked to him about it.

But there was something scary about having everybody's eyes on you at once, scorning you. You were a Youtuber, of course you knew what it felt like to be watched, but to have the entire internet so hellbent about your personal life made you jump into your own skin.

You just took a walk along the early city streets, you reflected upon yourself.

Why did you keep your relationship with Jake secret? 

Part of it was privacy. You didn't want the internet to interfere with your personal life, of course. 

But it wasn't like you wanted to hide your love for your boyfriend forever. It wasn't like you wanted to stow him away somewhere no one could find him. You were both adults, and you had to start living at some point.

You'd be lying if you said that you never thought about making a cute video with him, if you said you never wanted to post a cheesy anniversary picture on Instagram with a long caption just for him, if you said you never wanted the world to know that Jake Sim was yours.

You remembered the first time you and Jake talked about keeping it private. He was unsure, but because he cared so much about you, he agreed. Had you ever stopped to think about how he felt? You may have wanted to keep your relationship quiet, but did he? To a degree, there was something selfish about you, both now and in the past. You wanted to preserve yourself and your feelings, but you never even considered how Jake felt.

You were afraid, you felt vulnerable and too exposed to the world. But you cared far more about Jake than those fleeting emotions. Desire outweighed fear, you had to see him now.

But as you marched back to your hotel, your mind racing as you came up with paragraphs of words that you'd spill to Jake, you began to notice your worst nightmare.

A group of men, each with massive cameras that had even bigger microphones. 

They called themselves the paparazzi, but they were really only middle-aged men that made money off of being invasive towards people half their age.

Maybe you should have worn a hat, or something, as you were in a camera-infested area that was even more infested with celebrities and influencers. As they approached you, you quickened your steps, trying to get as far as you could from them. You tried your best not to make eye-contact, but alas, they got to you before you could escape.

"[Name]?" one of them called out your name, practically running to you.

Oh my god, you thought, ignoring them as you sped up. Please not right now.

"[Name], are you dating Jake Sim?" The sound of your boyfriend's name out of their mouths made your stomach churn. You kept walking, but you could feel them pointing their massive cameras at you, taking any measure to make a buck off of you.

You had a few choices.

You could make a run for it. Though, you had about six men double your age who would probably chase you down.

You could also give in to them, and give very vague answers. That would require a lot of patience, and simply, you wanted to go kiss your boyfriend, not talk to these so-called paparazzis.

Your last option was the one that seemed the most appealing, but could stir the pot of the media even more and it would give the tabloids what they wanted: you could tell them off and shut them down completely. The only issue was that you were the cutesy, sweet, Sanrio Hello Kitty girl. You've talked about adult topics before, but for you to be hostile and mean to another person? That was completely unheard of to anyone on the Internet. It would also be very reactive, and the media could twist that into something more.

But you wanted to get out of there.

You wanted to go see Jake. If you had to throw a few curse words at people if it meant that you could go home to Jake, then you'd use every curse under the sun.

"[Name], everyone is saying that your relationship with Jake Sim is real and not a publicity stunt. Any comment on that-?"

You were getting irritated.

You stopped in your tracks, turning over your shoulder.

"Will you fuck off?" Your gaze hardened on the group of men shoving cameras in your faces. You didn't even bother looking into the lens. "It's 10 in the morning, I don't have time for this."

"We didn't mean to offend you, [Name], we just wanted to know your relationship with Jake Si—"

You huffed to yourself, rolling your eyes. They loved acting polite only to violate your privacy. 

"Cut the bullshit, okay?" you narrowed your eyes. You were only a few meters from the hotel entrance, and they were still stalking you with their massive cameras. How shameless. 

Your anger was bubbling up inside you. It was rising, rising so much that you could feel it attempting to spill out of your mouth.

"You want to make a quick buck off of me so bad?" You stepped through the hotel doorway.

If the media was so curious about your life, and if they wanted to go so far as to try to disrupt your relationship, you wouldn't give them that satisfaction.

Everyone loved seeing what you were doing, everyone loved to watch you. It was your job to put on a show, to give people what they wanted. If you wanted to live, then you'd have to accept that.

You were an influencer, a micro-celebrity. You could make tides move if you wanted to. Why be so fearful of the eyes of so many?

But more than anything, you were a performer. And if that's what they wanted from you, that's what they'll get.

"Fine," you huffed. "I'll give you a story: me and Jake have been together for six years. In fact, we met each other in high school when he was my Physics lab partner. Go investigate that, won't you?"

With that, you slammed the hotel entrance door in their faces.

Jake swore he heard the trumpets of heaven when the hotel room door cracked open, revealing you.

He'd been waiting in front of it for a while now, and he jerked up immediately as he saw your face. He jumped right to his feet, ready to spill every word he thought of on you. You deserved an explanation.

But all you did was raise your hand, silencing him instantly. Instead, you took off your shoes, took his arm, and pulled him with you to the bed. You motioned for him to lay down, and did so yourself.

Jake stared at you like you were insane. Were you not going to yell at him? Why weren't you hitting him or telling him that you wanted to break up with him? Should he be on his knees begging you to stay at this point? But he complied (because of course he did, it was you).

You laid on his chest in silence, pressing your cheek up against him. 

That made his mind wander.

Maybe you were trying to ease him into a hard conversation. Maybe you were going to forget this until later.

He didn't want that. No, you deserved to hear what he had to say. If you were going to leave him, Jake wanted to say everything that he wanted to.

"I'm sorry," Jake blurted. The silence was deafening, before you took a deep breath, turning over onto your stomach so that your chin laid on his chest.

"What for?"

The gentle look in your eye as you looked at him made Jake choke up himself. He had to hold back or he'd start sobbing.

"For going against your wishes a-and..." Jake searched through his mind for all the words he practiced, but nothing came to mind. Not with you looking at him like you still loved him. "And for telling people about our relationship. I—I shouldn't have done that and I'm sorry for disrespecting the promise w-we made.... And... And—"

Jake sucked in a loud, sharp breath. His eyes were getting watery. He took your hands in his, squeezing them. 

"And I know that you're ash—ashamed of me, and I know that y-you won't— you won't want to be with me anymore, but—"

"Wait what?" you interrupted him, squeezing hands back. "I'm not ashamed of you, Jakey."

Jake stared at you.

Jakey.

"I'm not breaking up with you either. What makes you think that?"

The gate that was holding back Jake's emotions broke.

Jake let the tears that he tried so hard to hold back roll down his face. He let out a sob before he clamped a hand over his mouth.

You didn't hate him? You still wanted to be with him?

You instantly threw your leg over his hips, straddling him as you pulled his head to your chest. He melted into your touch, his wet face hiding in the crook of your neck. You pet his hair, pressing kisses to the crown of his head.

"Baby," you whispered into his ear gently. "Why are you crying?"

Jake's crying only got louder, and you couldn't help but giggle. He was a total softie. The way his hold around you tightened told you enough.

Jake sniffled through his words, cutting himself off every now and then with a hiccup and more sobs. "Th-Thought you were gonna l-leave me."

Your fingers stopped in his hair. "Leave you? Why would I?"

Jake pushed his face back into your shoulder, shaking his head.

You let him cry like that for a little while longer, whispering sweet reassurances in his ear as you patted his back. 

And when he was ready, the two of you talked it out, because that's what people did when they loved each other. You exchanged apologies, explained to each other your thought processes, and created an agreement: start anew, and you both didn’t mind that your relationship was now public, and if either of you disagreed, you had to voice it immediately. You ended it with a kiss.

You clicked the camera on, checking in the viewfinder that you were in-frame. You were back at home, the pink Hello Kitty decorations in your room, as well as the scent of strawberries, surrounding you. 

“Hi, everyone!” you smiled brightly, clasping your hands together. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you all. How are you?”

You chatted about a few updates since Vidcon, telling about your wonderful experience there and how you were so happy to meet all your fans.

“Now, onto the video!”

You peered to the side, where you spotted Jake sitting at the edge of your bed, waiting intently for your cue.

“Oh, Jakey!” you said in a sing-songy voice. “Come out now!”

With that, Jake popped into frame, dorkily saying a quick hi before plopping down onto the chair beside you.

“Today, I will be doing my boyfriend’s makeup!” you chirped happily. “Are you ready, boyfriend?”

The two of you shared a grin.

“Of course, girlfriend.”

[htlbellamuerte]

mcr tour theory (because i’m crazy and we all just brushed over this)

getting my thoughts out on this because waiting until august 29th is actually killing me. i am an mcr5 truther, and here are some of my thinkings:

- the tour title is strange. i saw someone point this out a few months back, but it really got me thinking. the tour title isn’t “long live the black parade”— it’s ““long live”: the black parade”. those quotations indicate a separate title, and the colon signifies some kind of relation or ownership. why ISN’T it a general “long live the black parade”???? makes me wonder if it’ll be a black parade sequel of sorts with a continuation of lore. “the black parade” is the name of the album, but it’s also the name of the fictional, in-universe band. “the black parade” is technically a self-titled album. if you think that the lore continuation sounds stupid and crazy, look at tyler the creator. his albums have lore continuation, and it’s cool and people love it. but honestly, all of the things they’re putting randomly in quotations in those instagram captions are strange. “the concrete age”, “good boy”, and “opera”??????? those sound pretty song title-y to me.

- too many strange coincidences about a specific tour date.

THE JERSEY SHOW??? this show is #5 on the tour, first of all. smack dab in the middle. second of all, why does this show start at 5:15? all of the other shows start at either 6:00 or 7:00 pm. 5:15?? why is it 45 minutes earlier than the other shows, and was the :15 necessary??? I THINK SO. stick with me here. you can divide 15 by 5 a total of 3 times. now, if we add those 3 to the 1 from the starting hour and 1 from the number show on tour, we get 5 FIVES. on top of this, it’s in JERSEY?? MCRS ORIGIN??????? SOMETHINGGGG is going to happen at mcr nj.

in conclusion, mcr5 is real, it’s connected to the black parade, and it’s probably getting announced in new jersey.

[covenofagatha]

The Psychology of Love (Part 12)

The Drunk Texts

Your first test is getting closer and closer...

Word count: 6.2k

Warnings: masturbation, phone sex, praise kink

Your professor is right. 

The moment your hand delves through your folds, you shiver and instinctively know that it’s not going to take you very long to finish. 

The kiss in the bathroom, the bite on your neck, the implication that she’s going to do the same thing you are right now when she gets home. It’s gotten you to a point where even a single touch to your clit has you gasping. 

You think of Agatha, laying on her lavender sheets again, jeans unzipped, head thrown back on the pillows, mouth agape in pleasure. 

What you would give to be there with her right now. 

An idea sparks in your lust-riddled brain and a smirk plays on your lips. It may be a bit bratty, but you just want to show her that you’re being her good girl. 

You grab your phone from where it’s resting on your bed next to you and swipe to open the camera. You hold it up and angle it so it cuts out your face but captures you still in her sweater and your hand between your bare legs. She can’t see your cunt, but little is left to the imagination. 

Tapping on the text thread with her, you chew on your lip as you attach the image and type out a caption. Heart pounding in time with your clit, you send it. 

Am I following directions now, Professor? 

She doesn’t read it immediately, still probably driving to her house, so you lazily rub your clit with two fingers, stopping your movements whenever you start feeling your orgasm building up. 

But then her read receipt appears and she begins typing and your heart rate spikes, along with your arousal. You feel tension knotting in your stomach, feel your breathing laboring. 

That’s my good girl. What are you thinking about? 

Agatha’s text kicks the air out of your lungs and you moan involuntarily. Touching your clit sends sparks racings through your veins and it’s hard to think straight. 

Responding with one hand while the other works between your legs is difficult, so you keep your response short, but accurate. 

You. 

Is she picturing you right now, too? Imagining what you’re doing while you touch yourself? You wonder what you look like in her mind. 

She replies quickly. 

You know I like it when you use your words, honey. 

Your walls clench around nothing and you bite down on your bottom lip to keep your whimper restrained. You’re starting to sweat a little in her sweater, but you don’t dare take it off. 

There’s something about fucking yourself in Agatha’s clothes that turns you on even more. Something about Agatha knowing that’s what you're doing. 

It’s taking you too long to formulate a response. You’re not sure how explicit to be and you’re typing with one hand, and she must be getting impatient. 

Because she calls you. 

Feeling like you’re in a dream, you accept it, put the call on speakerphone, and stare at her name like it’s actually her. “Hello?” you whisper, voice hoarse. 

“It seemed like you were having some trouble texting,” she purrs, smooth as silk, and it goes straight to your cunt. “Can you use your words now?”

So many thoughts swirl around in your brain, but you don’t know how to express them. 

“I—I’m thinking about you,” you gasp, feeling like the altitude has changed in your room. “If you’re touching yourself. What it would be like…” You trail off because even though you and her have already crossed many lines, this seems like a new one. 

Agatha hums. “Keep going.” 

Your breath stutters in your chest and you rub your aching clit faster. “What it would be like…to touch you. To feel you. To taste you.” A strangled, muffled groan tears itself from your throat and then you hear it. 

It’s barely audible. 

But there’s no mistaking the sound of Agatha’s sharp inhale, like she’s caught off guard again. Like you wanting to taste her this badly is getting to her in a way most things don’t. 

And it makes you desperate to get her to do it again.

“Better hope you do well on the exam then,” she drawls, but there’s heat in her voice that makes it sound teasing, rather than serious. 

“I will,” you say, eyes screwing shut in pleasure. You slip a finger inside yourself and breathe heavily. “I want to be good for you.” 

Something rustles on her side and you strain your ears to hear for any sign that she’s touching herself. If she is, she’s doing a good job of hiding it. 

Unlike you. 

When you do finally touch her, you want to make her moan for you. 

“You are good for me,” she says and your walls clench around the second finger you fit into yourself. Tingles are spreading all throughout your body and it sinks in that you’re going to come on the phone with your professor. “You’re my good girl.” 

The ownership, the claim, makes your back arch off the bed and your fingers hit the spot deep inside you that pulls a squeak out of you. Agatha chuckles. 

Before you can think about it, you duck your face down and inhale her scent from her sweater and sigh. Agatha’s signature scent makes your head spin and you can see her so clearly right now, between your legs, eyes locking with yours. Wetness squelches around your fingers

“What are you doing?” she rasps. 

You’re too far gone to even pretend that you’re not losing your mind for her. Over her.  

“Your perfume,” you choke out, thumb swiping against your clit. Your walls spasm. “It—I—” You stop, because you don’t know how to explain the reaction your body has to it and why you need to smell it so badly to get off. 

“Oh,” Agatha says, like she understands it perfectly. “You’ve conditioned yourself, honey.” 

Learning about psychology while you’re fucking yourself is something you never thought you’d experience, but for some reason, it’s only making you hotter. 

Fucking Morgan because she smelled like Agatha. Spraying Black Opium over yourself while you masturbated while thinking of Agatha. Smelling her sweater now while you have two fingers buried in yourself. 

The association may have been there from the beginning, but you’ve just been reinforcing and reinforcing. 

“Fuck,” you breathe, waves of pleasure washing through your body, almost to their peak. You’re just missing something. You thrust your fingers faster and rub your clit, feeling the tension about to snap. It’s just waiting for a final push.

But Agatha knows you, maybe even better than you know yourself right now. “You’re just so desperate to be mine, aren’t you?” You make a frantic, pathetic sound, nodding your head as though she can see you. You can almost hear her smirk through the phone and her voice drops an octave. “Then be a good girl and come for me.” 

There’s no use in trying to be quiet, not when your fingers slot just perfectly inside you and press against the spongy spot and your vision goes white and the dam of pleasure breaks inside you and rushes through every crook and crevice of your body. 

You can just faintly hear Agatha’s breath hitch over your heavy gasping slurring of words that are a mix between “Agatha” and “please” and “fuck,” and your mind flashes, showing you images of her having her own orgasm after hearing you moan for her. 

It does little to quench the searing heat and hunger inside of you but Agatha clears her throat and you slow down your thrusts inside of you. Your cunt still aches but you suspect that it might never stop with Agatha around. 

“You okay, hon?” she asks, back to normal. 

Meanwhile, you’re a ragged mess. “I’m okay,” you rasp. “Are you?” You’re asking for more than that though. You really want to know if she was touching herself. 

But Agatha just says, “I am.” 

You could be straightforward about it, but you think your professor is being deliberately evasive. 

There’s a moment of silence before she starts to speak again. “Think you’ll be able to focus on studying now?” 

“I’ll try my best,” you vow. Her sweater still on you makes it feel like she’s giving you a hug and you bury into it, wanting that sense of comfort because you know she’s about to hang up. 

“I know you will,” she coos. “Let me know if you have any more questions. I really want you to do well on this exam too.” 

The underlying implication is clear and makes you shiver even though fire roars in your stomach. 

She wants you as bad as you want her.

——

The next morning, you’re purposely late to Agatha’s class. 

You calculated it. If you got out of bed ten minutes later and sat down with Wanda and Nat in the dining hall until eight-fifty, then even if you jogged to the psychology building, you’d be cutting it real close. 

But when you stroll through campus, you get there five minutes late. Just as you intended. 

Agatha might be mad at you and you’re fully prepared to get called out by her for it, but you don’t care because you want to make sure that her attention is on you as you enter the room. 

Mainly so you can see her reaction to you. Her hickey on the side of your throat from the bathroom yesterday is red and visible and you didn’t put an ounce of concealer on it. You wear it like a badge of honor even though there’s no mistaking what it is. You have her sweater on too, which falls down your body to practically cover the shortest skirt you own so it looks like you’re wearing the sweater and nothing else. 

And when you open the door to her class after you look through the window to confirm that Agatha is lecturing, you get exactly the reaction you were hoping for. 

Your professor stops speaking and looks up at you and you see the moment she realizes. Her eyes glaze over just the slightest and her lips part—there’s a yearning hunger in her gaze. 

It’s hard not to smirk as you cross the room to slide into your chair. You meet her stare. “Sorry I’m late, Professor.” 

She falters for a moment, like she’s rendered speechless. You doubt anyone else in the class notices and you arch your eyebrow, like you’re waiting for her to say something. 

Agatha has a chestnut corduroy button-down vest on with a matching long skirt that falls to just above her ankles and black heels. Her wavy hair seems almost golden-brown as it tumbles down her shoulders and her silver hoop earrings catch the ceiling light. 

She leans on her elbows which are resting on the desk and your eyes are drawn to the lean muscle that flexes in her biceps while she figures out what to do with you. You wonder what it would be like to run your tongue up the crease. 

But then she finally straightens up. “See me in my office after class and we’ll discuss your tardiness.” 

A thrill runs through you and you nod meekly, putting on a show for the rest of your classmates. 

Agatha clicks to the next slide and you quickly get your notebook and pen out. “As I was saying before we were interrupted—” she shoots you a glance and you smile sweetly at her, “neurotransmitters are chemicals that help relay information between the neurons in the Central Nervous System. The nerve impulses travel from the axon of one neuron to the dendrite of the other over the synaptic cleft.” 

If she hadn’t briefly started going over this with you yesterday, you would be completely lost. Even now, you’re still confused. 

“The two main neurotransmitters are dopamine and serotonin. Dopamine is both a neurotransmitter and a hormone, but we’re only going to focus on it as the former. It gives you the feeling of movement, satisfaction, motivation—” she looks at you again, the corner of her mouth quirked up, “and pleasure.”

Your hand freezes and you feel your cheeks grow warm. 

“Too much dopamine has been associated with schizophrenia, while too little has been associated with Parkinson’s disease.” 

Agatha gives everyone a moment to finish writing it all down. You bite your lip and look at her innocently while tilting your neck slightly to the side so her mark on you is brandished proudly. She shakes her head almost indiscernibly—a warning to stop teasing. But you reach up and press on the bruise with your finger; the jolt it gives you causes more pleasure than pain.

She ruffles her hair, more flustered than she’s letting on, and moves on in a hurry. “Serotonin plays a role in regulating mood and emotions, sleep, appetite, and digestion. Low levels have been linked to anxiety and depression. Too much serotonin can cause weakness, fever, hallucinations, and irritability to name a few things. It’s important to have a chemical balance with neurotransmitters because if there isn’t, a lot of things can go wrong.”

Next slide.

“Meanwhile, hormones are chemicals that travel through the bloodstream that are produced by the endocrine system. The three main sources are the hypothalamus, the gonads, and the adrenal cortex. Examples of hormones are testosterone, estrogen, insulin, adrenaline, and cortisol. We won’t go much into these, though I’m more than happy to answer any questions you have about them during office hours.”

Extra studying on these things will definitely be warranted. 

“And of course, we have to talk about the nature versus nurture debate,” Agatha says. 

This is the only part of the biological approach you feel like you’re not struggling with. The nature side believes that personality is determined by genetics, while the nurture side believes it’s determined by the environment we grow up in. You’re pretty sure you’ve heard about it in every single psychology class you’ve taken in college.

“In an experiment to test which side is ‘more correct,’ the IQs of identical twins raised apart, step-siblings or adopted children raised together, and complete strangers were compared to see if there was any genetic or environmental correlation, or none at all. Identical twins raised apart share one-hundred percent of genes but zero percent of the environment and vice versa for step-siblings or adopted children, while strangers would have zero percent in both. There was zero correlation in the IQ of strangers, a mild positive correlation for the step-siblings or adopted children, and a strong positive correlation for identical twins raised apart.”

She pauses to let that sink in and even though you already typed most of this in on the study guide yesterday, you still hurry to copy it all down onto your paper. 

“So both genes and environment play a role in personality, but it would appear that genes have more influence.”

Agatha glances at you, as if asking for your opinion, and you shrug. Her lips curl into a thin smile. 

“And that’s the biological approach. On Wednesday, we’ll go over the study guide for the exam on Friday so bring any questions or things you want to go back over to class. Other than that, everyone have a good rest of your day.”

You stay seated while your classmates scurry out of the room. Agatha examines you curiously until they all leave.

“Want to tell me why you were late today?” she asks and you sit up before stuffing your notebook into your bag. 

You get out of your chair and she walks toward you. For a second, it seems that she might kiss you, but she steps right by you and moves toward the door. You follow in a haste, trying to think of something witty to say back. “Had to figure out what to wear,” is the best you come up with, but when Agatha tosses a look over her shoulder at you in the hallway, you smirk. 

She doesn’t respond until she opens the door to her office, lets you in, and then shuts the door behind her. “You know,” she sighs, strolling around her desk to plop into her chair, “sometimes you’re such a good girl, but then other times, you’re just a brat.” Her tone is meant to cut and discourage but it only excites you. 

“Maybe you should do something about that then,” you breathe, and when she meets your eyes again, you see how dilated her pupils are now. 

I think you like me like this.

It’s what you said to her at the mixer, when she scolded you for sending her teasing pictures while getting dressed. 

Maybe, she had answered. 

But the look on her face is saying a lot more than maybe. 

“I won’t reward you for bad behavior,” Agatha tells you matter-of-factly and you sink like silk into the chair across from her. “But…you might get punished.” 

There’s something about the tone with which she says that that makes you think it wouldn’t be the worst thing to be punished by her. Especially if it ends with a reward for corrected behavior. 

“Oh, yeah?” you prompt with a teasing smile. 

Agatha shoots you down with just one glance. “How are you feeling about the test?” 

“Not too bad,” you say with a shrug. “I have a lot of time this week to study. I really am trying.” You add this just in case you do poorly for any reason, because she has to know that you want more than anything to do well. 

Her face softens. “I know, honey. And it’s okay.” You take that to mean that whatever happens, it will be okay. Whatever is going on between you might not be broken. 

And that gives you a huge sense of relief. 

“So…did you bring me here just to reprimand me for being late?” The suggestion in your tone is clear and Agatha snorts. 

She shakes her head. “No, I actually have something for you.” Your heart skips a beat as she reaches into her desk drawer and pulls out a small box before setting it in front of you. 

Your breath catches in your throat. The box is black with gold lining the edges and a white strip across the lower-middle part of it. 

It’s perfume. 

Good Girl by Carolina Herrera. 

“Oh,” you rasp, gingerly reaching out to touch it like it might turn to dust. Agatha smirks triumphantly as you open it. 

Inside, sits the bottle in the shape of a high heel. The glass is sleek and smoky blue and the tall heel is a shimmery gold. You pick it up and hold the firm weight in your hands, your finger finding the button on the counter to spray it. 

“Go on,” Agatha husks. 

It feels strangely intimate when you spray and a puff of perfume spurts out, filling the air with the scent of almonds, jasmine and tuberose, cocoa, and coffee. It’s light and dark at the same time, bright and elegant, and you can’t help but wonder if Agatha will get conditioned to this the same way you have to Black Opium. 

“Thank you,” you say, looking up at her earnestly. 

She smiles genuinely. “Of course, honey. And if you do have any more questions, just let me know I’m always happy to help.” She winks and you smirk. Even though making out with your professor might not be a good way to spend valuable time instead of studying, it would certainly make you feel better. “However, I do have to run to a meeting, so I’m afraid I’ll have to see you later.” 

“Oh—yeah, no worries.” You carefully put the perfume back into the box and tuck it into your bag while Agatha grabs her laptop and a notepad and stands up. 

You walk out with her, and as she’s chatting with you about your plans for the weekend—which makes you think she’s planning for the reward—Rio walks in through the doors that you and Agatha are going straight for. 

Time seems to move slowly and it’s like your eyes are locked with Rio’s as she walks right by you and you can’t look away. Does Agatha even notice her? 

The corner of Rio’s mouth tugs up and she rolls her eyes, seemingly annoyed that you didn’t listen to her. 

But then Agatha stops right before the exit and points to the door to the stairwell. She smiles and reaches out to touch your arm, a friendly pat to anyone but you as it sends sparks racing down to your cunt. 

And Rio is completely forgotten.

——

The bar by campus is crowded, even on a Wednesday night. You know you shouldn’t be here but studying has been draining so when Wanda and Nat invited you to go out with them, you jumped at the chance for a break. 

You remember a teacher from your past saying that breaks were actually necessary to let your brain learn things unconsciously. 

Or it was something like that. 

Plus you figured there was no way Agatha would be here since this is the place usually only college kids frequent. It’s loud and dirty but the alcohol is cheap. 

You buy the first round of shots and it goes down with a grimace. 

“Oh, look!” Wanda says, pointing at a paper that’s pinned up on the wall. “It’s trivia night!” She sends Nat to go sign up while she buys a second round. 

Dinner at the dining hall wasn’t very good tonight, so you don’t have a lot in your stomach and you already feel a slight buzz running through you. 

This is what you need, you think. Get a little drunk, do some trivia, hang out with friends. You have tomorrow and Friday morning for last minute studying, and you’re feeling pretty good now. Review today in class was helpful as Agatha went through the study guide again and pointed out certain things you should pay extra attention to. 

Although you didn’t get any time to talk to her after in her office, you had been the last person in the room again. You had stood up as she walked over and she leaned in and dragged her nose along the column of your throat. Her own perfume filled your nostrils and your body had erupted in goosebumps. 

“You’re wearing it,” she whispered, pulling back. You nodded, seeing the darkness swallow up the blue in her eyes. “Good girl.” 

You lost a good thirty minutes time you could’ve spent studying after that because you were replaying her saying that over and over in your mind while you fingered yourself. 

“Here we go!” Nat whoops, coming back over and downing the shot that Wanda got her. She slams the answer sheet and pencil down between you and Wanda snatches it. “It starts in fifteen minutes. Want to dance?” 

Wanda enthusiastically agrees but you shake your head, so you become the keeper of the answer sheet. While Nat pulls her girlfriend to the floor, you turn the pencil over with your fingers and quiz yourself. 

Projection tests: Rorschach Inkblot and Thematic Apperception. 

Single trait approach: only studying one trait, like Milgram’s obedience study. 

Neurotransmitters: dopamine and serotonin. 

They run dendrite to axon. 

Your forehead wrinkles as you second-guess. Dendrite to axon? Or axon to dendrite? 

Fuck. 

You make a mental note to look that up later. It’s like there’s a block in your brain now and you can’t stop staring at the floor in front of you—you think you must be getting a little tipsy. 

Another glass gets handed to you and you look up to see Nat standing there. You’re not sure how long they’ve been dancing for, but you have another shot now and you take it quickly. 

It hits you almost immediately. The room blurs in and out of focus and you’re a little embarrassed that this is you after three shots. Nat and Wanda seem to be feeling it a little in the way they’re dancing though so at least you’re not the only one. 

You laugh out loud—the last time you were dancing with someone was on your date with Morgan last week, when you had been trying to rile Agatha up. 

It had worked. 

Agatha…

What is she doing right now? It’s not very late, is she eating dinner? Watching television? In bed? 

The thought makes your head spin and skin sear. 

Before you know what you’re doing, you pull your phone out of your too-short jeans and text her. 

Heyyy Professor. What are you up to?

Nat pulls a giggling Wanda back over and yells over the music that trivia is starting soon. Your phone buzzes right as you turn to order another shot. 

I’m just finishing inputting some grades for another class. What are you up to? 

You take your fourth shot and then let yourself be dragged to a table by your friends. They’re bickering about who’s going to write the answers down while a pleasant numbness settles into your body. 

Just thinking about you! I’m really excited for my reward ;)

“So,” Nat drawls, proppy her chin up in her palm and staring at you, “want to explain that hickey on your neck from the other day?” 

An alarm starts to flash through the haze in your brain and you struggle to think of something to say that isn’t the truth. You promised Agatha it would be your secret and even though you trust Wanda and Nat with your life, you know you can’t tell them. 

“I’m kind of talking to someone from a class,” you say, some of the words stuck together. Technically not a lie.  

Wanda gasps theatrically and your phone buzzes again. You fight to keep your attention on your roommate. “Spill! Why haven’t you said anything yet?” 

You shrug half-heartedly. “It’s just a…I’m not really sure what it is yet. But I really like her. Like really.” 

“When do we get to meet her?” Nat asks coyly and you freeze. Never. You can’t. She’s my professor. 

“Definitely not for a while,” you choke out.

Nat peers at you suspiciously, but drops it. With the interrogation being over, you’re free to look at your phone again.

You have to earn your reward first, honey. Are you drunk right now?

It takes you a few times to read it before you understand what she’s saying and asking and then your brows furrow. She’s trying to trick you—if you say yes, she might get mad, but if you say no, she might be able to tell that you’re lying. 

So you ignore the question entirely. 

I want to. I need to. I will. 

Agatha replies three minutes after she reads it, which seems like an eon to you. In the background, you hear the trivia host announcing the first question but you have complete tunnel vision on Agatha's response. 

I have no doubt.

She’s being cagey and you don’t like it. But before you can do something about it, Wanda elbows you gently. “Do you know who won the baseball World Series in 2016?” 

It seems absolutely absurd that anyone would know that. “Definitely not,” you say, shaking your head solemnly, and Nat sighs before writing down a random team. 

Back to your professor. You know she likes when you use your words so maybe that will help right now. You’re not sure what you’re expecting to happen, but it won’t hurt to find out.

I really fucking like you. 

I think about you all the time. 

God, you might be really embarrassed the next time you see her. Or just tomorrow when you wake up in general. It seems like she knows you're drunk so maybe she'll cut you some slack. That could also be why she isn't engaging in the conversation as much as she normally does.

“Quick, who’s the most decorated Olympian of all time?” Wanda hisses. 

Thoughts run together in your head but you know this one. “Michael Phelps,” you say confidently and Nat nods before writing it down. You peer at the paper and see that your friends have answered six questions already. 

You feel slightly bad that you’re being absolutely no help—other than that last question—but it doesn’t take much to forget about that. You tap on your phone and realize that Agatha still hasn’t texted you back. 

Which would be fine, because you know that she’s doing work, but you’re a bit impatient and illogical when you’re drunk.

So you text her again. 

I like the way you smell. 

There’s a dopey grin on your face when you send it and you imagine Agatha blushing when she reads it. That will get her attention. 

And just as you suspected, she finally reads your messages and the bubble pops up. 

So it seems, honey. 

You frown, desperate to make her understand just how much you like her perfume. It doesn’t even faze you that she didn’t respond to any of your other texts. Your thumbs fly and you mumble the message to yourself to make sure it makes sense before sending it. Thankfully the music is too loud and neither of your friends hear it.

After the mixer I rubbed it against myself before I made myself come. Felt so good cause it smells like you. 

Will she like that? Will it turn her on to know that?

You picture Agatha now, cheeks flushed and dark eyes, and it sends a blaring heat through you. 

But the alcohol has adequately done its job and you have to put your phone away because the screen is making you dizzy. You’re vaguely aware of Nat slamming down the pencil on the table because you didn’t win trivia and Wanda taking it before she can do it again. 

One of them grabs your wrist and leads you out of the bar. Nat calls an Uber and it seems like both one second and thirty minutes before it appears. Terms and definitions from Agatha’s class swirl around in your head nonsensically until you think that dopamine is the bigger reward in the delay of gratification study. 

Is that true? You’re not sure. Nothing is making sense. 

You just wish Agatha was here with you. 

Somehow, when you open your eyes, you’re back in your room. You don’t remember getting out of the uber or walking upstairs, but now you’re in your bed and Wanda and Nat are already passed out in the bed on the other side of the room. 

It’s an instinct to reach over into your nightstand, at this point. Your fingers close around the bottle you know so well by now. You struggle to sit up, holding very still for a second so you don’t throw up everywhere, and then spritz. 

Coffee, vanilla, and spice fills the air and the mist floats down onto your pillow. You drop back down and the vial isn’t in your hands anymore. You inhale deeply and while you feel the unmistakable pull in your cunt, you feel comforted too.

Like Agatha’s laying right next to you. 

The perfume is a warm blanket, almost as good as your professor’s embrace would be, and you fall asleep in no time.  

——

When you wake up Thursday morning, you’re blissfully unaware of what happened yesterday night, until the memories come flooding back to you with a dull throb in your head. 

One shot. 

And then another shot. 

Nat pushing yet another into your hand. 

Texting Agatha. 

Another shot. 

Texting Agatha again. 

Fuck. 

You groan and roll over in your bed to see Wanda and Nat still passed out, limbs intertwined with each other. Nat’s lips are parted and she’s lightly snoring. 

The sunlight streaming in through your blinds creates a mirage of slits on the dorm floor and you have to squint at your dresser. The bottle of Black Opium sits there, next to your phone that isn’t plugged in. The vial explains the lingering, familiar scent on your pillowcase. 

You rub your forehead as you reach over to grab your phone and it’s dead. Because of course. 

It takes you a few minutes of blindly fumbling between the edge of your bed and your nightstand to find the charger but you finally grab onto the cord. You settle back into bed while you wait for your phone to come back to life. You can still taste the alcohol on your breath but your head feels like it’s full of cotton at the moment, so you’re not very motivated to get out of bed to do anything. 

Skipping your classes today has never sounded so appealing. Plus you lost an entire evening of studying last night, a choice you don’t regret because you needed to blow off some steam, but all the more reason to stay in your bed all day. If you skip a class to study for another class, does it really count? 

You’re slowly becoming convinced that it doesn’t. 

It’s not like you haven’t skipped before. You just always try to pretend for as long as you can that this will be the semester you don’t. 

But there’s a part of you that’s worried your absence will somehow get back to Agatha and she’ll be disappointed in you. She’s mentioned the department being tight-knit and while you may just be a little paranoid to think that she would actively check in on how you’re doing, you’re still a bit worried. You’re not sure that she would see your excuse of studying for her exam as valid, even though she knows that there’s a lot on the line. 

Even though you’ve been studying every day, you’re still nervous. There’s been pressure on you before, but never with an incentive like this. You can’t help but wonder what will happen if you don’t do well. There’s still some things on the biology side that stump you, and no matter how many times you practice the flashcards, you can’t seem to get it right. What if she puts questions about those on the test?

Calm down. Agatha likes you. She wouldn’t base your entire relationship off of a grade.

It’s not super convincing though. 

There’s still time, you remind yourself. You don’t have class until later and you have time in-between before your next class, plus the whole evening. Agatha also has office hours today, even though you’re not sure if you’d be able to focus at all with her. 

Everything since the mixer last Saturday has been building to tomorrow. You’ve felt it, she’s felt it: the tension that just keeps growing, the electricity that seems to crackle when you stand too close, the tug in your gut that connects you to her. 

All it would take at this point is one whiff of her perfume and there would be no hope of actually retaining any of the information you need to, no matter how well she’s explaining it. 

So office hours might be off the table at this point, just because of how important this is. 

Unless she’s mad about last night—you can’t remember what you texted her—and decides to hold off on the reward, no matter how well you do on the test. 

Would Agatha do that? You really hope not. 

Your phone finally charges enough for the screen to turn on and you quickly open your texts with your professor and scroll back to the beginning of last night. Thankfully, it doesn’t take you too long—maybe the damage is minimal. 

But as you read through, your heart sinks lower and lower. You were quite forward with these and Agatha seemed very unimpressed. She could clearly tell that you were drunk and she was not amused. Her responses do feel familiar and you vaguely remember reading each word separately in your drunken haze at the bar to try to string them together. 

And when you reach the bottom, where you admitted that you rubbed your vial of Black Opium against your clit after she kissed you at the mixer (you don’t think you’re ever going to drink again because that has to be even worse than the hangover you have right now), you almost fall off your bed when you see that she sent you three messages after that. Three messages that you’re now seeing for the first time. 

One from right after you sent your last text.

I’ll make sure to keep that in mind. 

The next was sent about thirty minutes after that. 

I hope you’ve gotten back to your dorm safely. 

You didn't even tell her you were out. You're not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing that she figured that out. At least it seems like she's not too mad—and her concern is sweet.

But then you get to the last one. 

From this morning, about an hour ago. You swallow roughly, butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. This could be going either way for you. 

Come see me in my office today whenever you get a chance. 

Part Thirteen

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs @agathascoven1 @500daysofmarissa @filmedbyharkness @autbot @claramelooo @dandelions4us @agathaallalongg @jujuu23 @21cannibal @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @jeridandridge @hannibalcanniballz @chloeelou02x @hapuchika @xblinkx2 @xanthreee @tobeawriter98

[willowsnook]

You have been my friend, that in itself is a tremendous thing (LS)

 request from @waterdeeply book quote requests here

Lance stroll x bsf!reader

—----------------------------------------

It surprised most people that you and Lance had been friends for as long as you had, especially since it was like you were from two different worlds. In college, you worked as a barista at a cafe in Montreal and had been intrigued by a quiet regular you’d had that winter. Always polite, but never talkative, you felt like you had formed a silent friendship with the man. 

It became loud when he showed up that June to the cafe, after not having been in for months.

“Where have you been?” You demanded, putting a hand on your hips while you glared at him. He was startled and then confused, not realizing his presence had been that known. 

“Uhh, I don’t live here,” he stuttered out. “I mean, I’m from here, and visit over the holidays.” 

“But you’re back now,” you said. “And it’s not a holiday.” 

“Work,” he said shortly, a tight smile on his face. 

“Okay, well here,” you said, handing his drink to him. 

“What is it?” He asked, brows furrowed. 

“Your americano? The same thing you always order?” you said, and he didn’t say anything. He just looked from you to the drink and back to you again. “Okay, stop being weird, go sit down.” 

That was the beginning of your favorite friendship that was going on 5 years now. 

It was funny, really—how someone who barely said two words at first became the person you texted when you saw a raccoon doing something stupid, or when you were panicking over something dumb like taxes.

Somewhere along the way, Lance went from “quiet guy who drinks Americanos” to “guy who shows up at your apartment at midnight with snacks when you're sad.” From “I think he races cars or something?” to “I know his pre-qualifying ritual better than he does.”

It didn’t matter that his life was fast-paced and international while yours was rooted in simplicity. You grounded him, and he gave you wings. You balanced each other out in a way that made perfect sense—just not to anyone else.

You were the first person he called after a good race, and the only person he wanted to talk to after a bad one. And you always picked up—even when it was 3 a.m. in whatever timezone he was calling from.

Somewhere along the way, it stopped being about coffee orders and started being about always.

And that quiet guy who used to barely make eye contact? Now he couldn’t go a day without sending you a dumb meme or a video of a dog in sunglasses with the caption, “You.”

His friend group had changed a lot over the years you had known him - it wasn’t rare for it to be because someone ended up showing that they only wanted to be friends with him because of his status. The Lance in the media was also drastically different from the one you knew. They painted him to be a rich, stuck-up, daddy’s boy with no regard for anyone other than himself, but that wasn’t your Lance. Your Lance was shy. He was thoughtful. He was loyal. 

It was after a particularly dreadful weekend in Brazil that ended with a DNF from Lance that you heard him knocking on your hotel door at 10 pm. You were already in pajamas in bed, not expecting your friend as you had just seen him literally two hours ago. Prepared to give him your best irritated look you swung open the door, but the glare dropped once you saw his face. 

“What’s wrong?” You instantly asked. His hair looked like he had ran his fingers through it a million times, his eyes tired, shoulders slumped. 

“Can I just stay here tonight?” He asked hesitantly. You looked back to your room that only had one bed but nodded your head anyway. Lance had spent the night countless times at your apartment, but always on the couch. 

"Come on in," you said softly, stepping aside to let him through. He shuffled in, his movements heavy with exhaustion. You closed the door behind him and watched as he sank down onto the edge of your bed, his head dropping into his hands.

"Thanks," he murmured. "I just... couldn't be alone with my thoughts tonight."

You sat beside him, close enough that your shoulders brushed. "Want to talk about it?"

Lance let out a long, shaky breath. "Everyone's saying I don’t want to be here. That I don’t even like racing. Social media is... brutal."

"Since when do you care what people on Twitter think?" you asked, nudging him gently.

"Since my dad called to tell me he agreed with them," Lance said, his voice barely audible.

Your heart sank. Lawrence Stroll had always been the person that Lance had looked up to the most. You knew Lawrence well now, finally gaining his approval once he realized you weren’t ever trying to get something from his son. He loved Lance more than life, but he was human. 

Moving back on the bed, you rested against he headboard and motioned for Lance to come closer. He laid his head down in your lap, and you started to massage his head, his soft hair moving between your fingers. 

“It was just a bad day,” you told him. “You are better than today. You know that, I know that, your dad knows that.” 

“Would you still be friends with me if I lost my seat?” He asked quietly and you laughed. 

“Oh Lance, I’d still be friends with you if you had no money to your name and had to live on my couch,” you said easily. “Nothing could ever get me away from you, we are stuck together I’m afraid.” 

He smiled up at you, and suddenly the weight of the day seemed to lift from his shoulders. His eyes, those deep brown pools that could convey more than his words ever did, held yours with a warmth that made your heart skip.

"Stuck together, huh?" he repeated softly. "I think I can live with that."

You continued running your fingers through his hair, noticing how his breathing gradually slowed, the tension in his face melting away. This was the Lance only you got to see—vulnerable, honest, without the armor he wore for the rest of the world.

—---------------------------------------------

You only turned 25 once; that’s what Lance had been telling you nonstop the whole time you were at the airport. He knew you were irritated with him because you made it clear from the beginning of your friendship that you didn’t like him throwing around money for you. 

“Look at it this way,” he said convincingly as you waited to board his jet. “This is the first time your birthday has fallen on a non-race weekend so it’s like a vacation for me too. So really it’s not all about you.” 

“So my birthday present from you is not all about me?” You asked, eyes narrowing. 

“Well, of course it’s all about you,” he said, panicked. “I’m just saying, I am also benefitting, so you can’t be mad at me for paying.” 

“Fine,” you grumbled. “Will you tell me where we’re going?” 

That’s the other thing you were annoyed about. This whole trip was a surprise so you had no idea that you were even going anywhere until an hour ago when you both pulled up to the airport. Lance had clearly just bought you a new suitcase with new clothes to ‘keep up the surprise’ in his words. 

"I'll tell you when we land," Lance said with a mischievous grin, his eyes lighting up in that way that always made it hard to stay mad at him.

You sighed dramatically, but couldn't help the smile tugging at your lips. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly charming, you mean," he quipped, guiding you up the steps of his private jet with a gentle hand on your lower back.

The interior was luxurious, of course, but you'd been on his jet enough times now that the initial awe had worn off. What hadn't worn off was the way Lance always watched your face when you stepped inside, like he was still seeing it through your eyes the first time. The plane ride went by smoothly and as you departed the jet, you stopped in your tracks, jaw dropping as you looked over at Lance. 

Mykonos. The place that had been #1 on your travel bucket list since forever. You had even told Lance once that your future husband had no say in honeymoon destination because it had to be here. 

“Surprise,” he said, and you wrapped your arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. The drive to the villa was short and you were overwhelmed by the place. 

It was stunning—like something out of a travel magazine or a Pinterest board you never actually thought you’d step into. Whitewashed walls with cascading bougainvillea, infinity pool stretching out into the Aegean Sea, and floor-to-ceiling windows that made it feel like the whole island was yours. But more than the luxury, it was the details that hit you like a punch to the heart.

There were vases filled with your favorite flowers—lilies and lavender—spread throughout the villa, filling the space with a soft, calming scent. A record player sat in the corner, already spinning one of your favorite albums, the volume low and warm like a heartbeat in the background. On the coffee table was a stack of books Lance had remembered you saying you wanted to read “someday”—and apparently today was someday.

You wandered into the bedroom and blinked in disbelief at the soft linen robe draped on the bed embroidered with your initials. There were framed photos—your photos. Ones you’d taken during hikes, some blurry selfies the two of you had snapped over the years, one you didn’t even remember taking of him grinning with his face smeared in ice cream.

On the nightstand sat a cup of coffee in a to-go cup that looked suspiciously familiar. You picked it up and laughed—it was your exact old cafe’s logo, and the label read “Americano for L.S.” in your handwriting.

You turned around and found Lance standing in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets, that nervous smile on his face again—the same one from years ago, when you’d first asked him why he’d been gone so long.

"Why did you do all this for me?" you asked, voice soft, almost overwhelmed. "I don’t deserve it. I’ve never done anything like this for you."

Lance tilted his head slightly, walking into the room. His gaze was steady, warm. “You’ve been my friend,” he said simply. “That in itself is a tremendous thing.”

You swallowed hard, eyes stinging. You weren’t usually emotional like this—but Lance had a way of catching you off guard, of making you feel seen in a way you didn’t even know you craved.

"You remembered everything," you whispered, running your fingers along the robe.

"Of course I did," he said, stepping closer. "You talk, I listen. You just never notice because you're usually ranting about people who don't listen."

You let out a watery laugh and shook your head. “You are… something else, Stroll.”

He grinned. “Hopefully something good?”

You nodded. “The best kind.”

That night, you sat out on the balcony wrapped in a blanket, sipping wine while the sun dipped below the horizon in a blaze of oranges and purples. Lance sat beside you, your feet in his lap, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along your ankle like it was second nature.

You turned to look at him, heart full, cheeks sore from smiling all day.

“This was the best birthday of my life,” you said.

“Only the best for you,” he replied casually, like he hadn’t just moved heaven and earth to give you this moment.

And it was then, in the golden light of Mykonos, wrapped in comfort and laughter, that you realized something you maybe should’ve seen all along.

He was your best friend. He knew you. Every piece of you.

And maybe—just maybe—he was starting to feel like something more.

[woso-story]

The Weight Of Love And Loss- Part Five

Alexia Putellas x Reader - Part One Two Three Four Six Seven Eight Last Part

The apartment felt unbearable. Alexia had barely lasted two days after your conversation in the café before she packed a small bag and left for Mapi and Ingrid’s. The weight of the emptiness, the silence, and the memories crushed her. Every corner of the space carried a piece of you: your favorite blanket draped over the couch, the little succulent you insisted on keeping in the kitchen, the faint smell of your perfume lingering in the hallway.

But what hurt the most was the bedroom. The space that had once been filled with whispered laughter and quiet intimacy now felt cold and sterile. She hadn’t been able to sleep in the bed after you left, curling up instead on the couch, hoping exhaustion would eventually overtake her.

It never did.

“I can’t do it,” Alexia had admitted to Mapi when she arrived at their doorstep. Her voice was barely above a whisper, and her eyes were rimmed red from days of crying. “I can’t stay there.”

Mapi had simply pulled her into a hug, murmuring, “You don’t have to. Stay as long as you need.”

Ingrid prepared the guest room for her, making it as comfortable as possible. Alexia spent her first night at their place sitting by the window, staring out into the city lights, wondering how things had spiraled so far out of control.

---

The first few days at Mapi and Ingrid’s were a blur. Alexia felt like a shadow of herself, existing but not living. Mapi tried her best to cheer her up, dragging her to brunches with teammates or movie nights in the living room. But no matter how much Alexia tried to participate, the ache in her chest never went away.

One evening, Alexia was scrolling through her phone when she stumbled upon an old photo of the two of you. It was from a lazy Sunday morning, your hair tousled from sleep as you grinned at the camera, Alexia’s arm wrapped around you. The caption read: My favorite mornings.

Her chest tightened as tears welled in her eyes. She quickly put the phone down and buried her face in her hands.

Mapi found her like that, sitting at the dining table with silent tears streaming down her cheeks.

“You have to stop torturing yourself, Ale,” Mapi said softly, sitting beside her.

“I can’t help it,” Alexia whispered. “I miss her. And it’s my fault she’s gone.”

“You can’t change the past,” Mapi replied. “But you can work on the future. You’ve already taken the first step by recognizing what went wrong. Now you have to keep going.

It was easier said than done.

---

At Mapi’s insistence, Alexia made an appointment with a psychologist. It wasn’t an easy decision—Alexia had always prided herself on being strong, someone who could handle anything life threw at her. Admitting that she needed help felt like admitting defeat.

Her first session was stiff and uncomfortable. She answered the psychologist’s questions with short, guarded responses, unwilling to let her walls down. But something shifted in the second session.

“I lost her,” Alexia found herself saying, her voice breaking. “Because I couldn’t see what I was doing. I thought I was protecting her by not letting her in, but I was just pushing her away.”

For the first time, she spoke openly about the pressure she’d felt after her injury—the fear of being forgotten, of losing her place on the team, of failing to live up to everyone’s expectations. And slowly, session by session, she began to unravel the tangle of emotions she’d been carrying for months.

---

Alexia threw herself into her recovery, but this time, she approached it differently. Instead of overtraining to the point of exhaustion, she followed her physio’s advice to the letter, focusing on both her physical and mental well-being.

Her days became a balance of rehab sessions, therapy, and spending time with her teammates. She started journaling, pouring her thoughts and feelings onto paper. She even picked up a new hobby—painting—which helped her quiet her restless mind.

Mapi and Ingrid noticed the change almost immediately.

“She’s getting better,” Ingrid remarked one evening as she and Mapi watched Alexia paint in the living room.

“Yeah,” Mapi agreed. “But she still misses her.”

They weren’t wrong. Even as Alexia started to find her footing again, there was a part of her that still ached for you. She often wondered what you were doing, whether you were as okay as you seemed during that last conversation.

There were nights when she wanted to call you, to tell you about her progress and promise that things could be different. But she held back. She knew you needed time, and so did she.

---

While Alexia was rebuilding herself, you were rediscovering who you were.

Your new apartment became a haven, a space that was entirely yours. The freedom to decorate it however you wanted, to come and go as you pleased, felt liberating. You spent your weekends exploring the park nearby, taking long walks by the lake and watching the world go by.

Work became your escape, and your dedication didn’t go unnoticed. The promotion you’d been working toward for years finally became a reality, and it felt like validation for all your hard work.

But it wasn’t just your career that flourished. You started reconnecting with friends, saying yes to dinner invites and weekend trips. On a whim, you adopted a small Maltese puppy named Mylo, who quickly became your constant companion.

For the first time in a long time, you felt like yourself again.

---

One evening, you were scrolling through TikTok when a familiar face appeared on your screen. It was Alexia, walking onto the pitch, the caption reading: La Reina is back.

Your heart skipped a beat.

Without thinking, you opened Instagram and went straight to Alexia’s account. There it was—a photo of her being subbed on, her face glowing with a smile that looked real, not forced.

You couldn’t stop yourself from double-tapping the photo and leaving a comment: Proud of you.

It was a simple gesture, but you meant it with all your heart. No matter how things had ended between you, you couldn’t deny how much you admired her strength and determination.

---

On the other side of the city, Alexia sat in bed scrolling through her phone. Normally, she didn’t read the comments under her posts, but something compelled her to that night.

And then she saw it.

Proud of you.

Her breath hitched, her fingers hovering over the screen. It wasn’t much, but it meant everything. After all the mistakes she’d made, after all the pain she’d caused, you were still proud of her.

She set her phone down and lay back, a small smile spreading across her face. For the first time in months, she felt a glimmer of hope.

If she kept working on herself, if she continued to heal, maybe—just maybe—there was still a chance for the two of you.

But for now, she would focus on the present, knowing that if it was meant to be, your paths would cross again.

---

And so, while you curled up on your couch with Mylo by your side, and Alexia drifted off to sleep with a rare sense of peace, the future remained unwritten. Both of you were healing, slowly but surely, and perhaps that was the most important step of all.

[cvnt4him]

................................................

"woah would you look at that, deku just took out that guy with a single punch!"

"he's so amazing!~"

"you're my hero!!!"

So many people chant, root, and holler for even the slightest glimpse of his attention, even a glance.

"Mr deku, what can you tell us about this villain, you hadn't even put up much of a hassle and yet he appears to be tired!" One report gleams.

It's true. He hadn't done too much, one simple practically, light punch and the criminal was already down, he knew that. Deku knew he was good, he knew others thought he was good. He thrived on that kind of energy.

"oh~, well you know, I'm not one to brag nor bring other people down, criminal or not we're all human." He sings to the reporter, hinting at the fact she gave the measly little lowlife schmuck at best, a promotion to 'villian'. cameras flashing everywhere as he heard a bunch of girlish screams, everyone looks over to see a bunch of fan girls rallying to get an autograph.

Dammit.

Izuku tried so hard not to let his smile faulter, its not that he disliked his fans, really he could never, he knows one of the reasons he's here is because of his fans, and he loves them all equally no matter what. However. scrolling on the Internet, especially as a pro hero it's hard not to go down a loophole of your own fans. Izukus fans are nice, sure. But they're also bat shit crazy.

Doxxing people for disagreeing, assuming he was gay for his best friend dynamite, writing fanfiction about him and his best friend dynamite, assuming he had a new significant other because he changed up his style of clothing??

Really his fans are too much, he loves them, he does. But they are just so...smothering?

As he sees the fans hurrying toward him he tries his hardest to jump away as he was stopped by a little deaf girl who wanted an autograph.

Shit. You can't NOT give a little deaf girl an autograph it'd be bad publicity. he sighs deeply in defeat, knowing how easily persuaded he is, he'll most likely be there standing, on his feet, smiling wide and big for fans, for the next hour and a half.

Izuku sighed deeply through his nose as he finally, after 5 more hours of working, made it back to his bed, that's all he wanted. He didn't bother taking his suit off just simply jumping in his bed and groaning at the comfort he longed for.

He grabbed his phone and opened Twitter.. that was the first mistake of the night, he scrolled through his feed coming across a post of a girl just rambling about her ever lasting love for deku.

He shifted in his bed so now he was laying back on his pillows, turning up the sound to hear your beautifully slurred voice.

"- like bro.. I don't think any of you understand how my NEED for this man is like just.. sigh. I'm about to go crazy bro. If I were given the chance I'd do unholy. Unspeakable. Down right horrendous things to this man, i- aHaAVE YOU SEEN HIS NEW HERO SUIT??" You were talking to your friend who had the idea to start recording you while you were drunk, laughing and snorting at you.

The video was posted by you, the caption read; 'my friend started recording while i was drunk and i randomly went on a rant ab my love for the #1 hero 💀'

He snickered at this, genuinely finding it funny, but sooner or later it registered in his brain what you'd said..you'd do what to him.

Before he knew it he was semi hard, he looked down at his slight hard on confused, there is no way this turned him on?? He had been sent so many videos of his fan girls from all ages going down on a dildo with his name slapped on it, he never found it the least but attractive, just kind of desperate..

He watched the video again, his cock becoming fully erect as he sighed at the uncomfortable feeling of his now leaking, completely hard cock, rubbing against his suit pants.

It had been a while since he'd done something like this.. since he had used someone..he needed this, just to relax. Just a couple of strokes to get him to come, that's all.

He let out a shaky sigh, slowly trailing his thick fingers up and down his clothed cock, earning a light squeak to rip from his throat due to the slight pleasure he felt from the gentle actions.

He knew he needed it, he needed this so badly, but he wouldn't rush it. He hated when he rushed things, he says 'they never get done correctly'.

So he would be patient with himself, gently palming himself over his suit pants, letting breathy sighs leave his slightly dried and chapped lips.

He looked over to his phone to see the paused video...

'oh what the hell.' he thought to himself as he grabbed the phone, angling and holding it close to his ear to hear your voice and the loud laughs that he hopefully tried to blur out of his mind. Focusing on your voice fully.

He held the phone close to his ear closing his eyes listening to your slurred speech, and the hiccups and giggles that left your mouth, he bit his lip as his palming motions began to get harder and more rough, "I would do down right horrendous things to this man." That line stuck with him, that's what made him undo his pants and shimmy them off so he could fully touch his leaking, crying cock.

He groaned in embarrassment and disgust in himself at the sight of his already soaked boxers, why did his cock have to be so leaky!!

He whimpered at the sight, pulling his boxers down just enough to have his cock hit against himself. He wrapped two fingers around his cock and rolled his eyes back, biting his lip to sustain the sound that wanted to come out. He stroked himself slowly, letting the precum on his tip continue to drip down his thick cock.

He had listened to the audio all over again this time fixating on the part where you'd talked about his suit. He had changed up his suit a couple of times, never really straying away from the original concept he had in highschool, the green was always there to stay, and he always liked the fact his suit was more of a jumpsuit kind of thing, but changing it over the years, he went with a tighter fabric for his new and improved suit, removing the bunny ears at the back, and adding a white cape, replacing his huge bulky gloves with just as thick, smaller and well fitted ones, the white the painted his suit was now black.

He hadn't done much to his suit really.

But you and so many others thought it was the sexiest thing in the world.

He loved that, that you loved his suit, he whimpered in a pitchy octave, eyes crossing as he shut them, breaths becoming uneven as he wraps his whole hand around his aching, dripping, cock. It yearned for release, he needed it, it hurt so bad but felt so good he couldn't stop, he was sooo close!

So so close, and yet.. not close enough to get him there. He abandoned all self respect and hope for 'not rushing things' he needed to come and the only way he could is if he really touched himself.

He ripped off the top of his hero suit before rummaging in his bedside drawer to grab a Fleshlight, it was a lot more advanced than your normal average pussy shaped fleshie, it had handle and so many different modes!!! It vibrated and wiggled and had a squirt thingy that shot lube inside to make his cock slippery, not that he'd need it, his cock is like a water fountain with so much cum to give.

He turned it onto its highest setting before settling his twitching cock, dribbling with precum, inside of it.

He couldn't contain the line of moans that ripped out of him, he wanted to really he did, he wanted to keep quiet for his neighbors but he just couldn't, he felt so fucking good, he'd felt that he'd never been this hot or bothered before especially not because of some measly audio that wasn't in any way remotely sexual, and yet he was so close to cumming because of it. This video. This person. You.

You were so close to making him cum.. he was right there bucking his hips up into the contraption, shaking, whilst his whole body spasmed as he threw his head back, sweat dripping from his tired and spent body, he groaned and moaned so loudly it was so lewd, he was so lewd. He couldn't believe what he was doing, he felt so dirty, but in this very moment, he couldn't care. He was so drunk off of the immense amount of pleasure he was receiving that all he wanted, needed, was to cum.

And when he finally released with a high pitched moan, globs of tears leaving his rolled eyes, there was so much, ropes of his white, hot, thick cum squirting inside of the toy. It was still vibrating against his softening cock, it made him so overstimulated yet he couldn't move, his orgasm was so strong he didn't have the energy to take his cock out. He just sat there, holding onto the toy that continuously vibrated and massaged his limp, thick, crying cock, crying, sniffing, and whimpering.

Hell he'd probably already came again without even knowing it, his orgasms had gone on for a while, he still couldn't move, just blissfully laying against his bed, covered in sweat and tears streaming down his reddened freckled face.

As he regained his composure, the overstimulation was more than enough, he hiccuped, wiping his face from the tears and sweat that covered it, as he turned off the toy and tossed it off of his bed, he was half naked, hot, and hungry.

He groaned as he draped one of his arms over his face, feeling the sweat and tears cover his forearm, as he heard the video that had been playing over and over again on repeat. His eyes shot wide open as he scurried to grab his phone. he looked at the video in disgust. Had he really just gone to a new low, and came to this stupid video of a dumb drunk girl complimenting him??

His post nut clarity was always bad, especially because he did some pretty down bad, disgusting, sinful things. But this? Yeah he deserved to suffer for all eternity.

He groaned placing his phone under his pillow as he buried his face in said pillow, squeezing his eyes shut at how hard he'd came, his cock still filthy and sticky with his thick ooey gooey cum, now dirtying his bed.

................................................

AN: he hates himself for how much and how hard he came, he really does.

I'm making a pt 2🤭