#me: i don't get political. me: 1 drink later

[its-not-a-pen]

Waiting for the 2nd Century Warlord Comic? Want to learn more about ancient china? Check out these fun sources! Three Kingdoms oversimplified. Exactly what it says on the tin.

Farce of the Three Kingdoms. A hilarious parody of the novel Romance of the Three Kingdoms that is only slightly more bonkers than the real thing (3/10 historical accuracy). For a more factual account, try reading Records of the Three Kingdoms...or just wikipedia-ing everyone.

War of the Three Kingdoms (2010). A fun TV show that deviates a lot from the novel but is more character-driven. has a lot of costume inaccuracies tho which drives me crazy >:((((

Romance of the Three Kingdoms（1994）TV show, considered a definitive classic. Editing's a bit choppy but at least none of the men have their hair down.

Total War: Three kingdoms. History told in the form of a stratagy-based video game.

Tang dynasty football. Not the same dynasty, but it's a nice showcase of costumes and instruments, also a surprisingly concise summary about ancient Chinese politics. (Bribes) What did Early Middle Chinese sound like? How does one recreate a non-phonetic language?

[willowsnook]

When Love is Left Unspoken pt. 2 (MV)

max verstappen x reader

pt. 1 here

I could be talked into a pt. 3 if people want it

It had been a week since the Austin GP and forgetting about what happened had been impossible mostly because Max would not leave you alone.

He didn't reach out directly, but every morning this week, you had woken up to a new gift outside your door. Flowers, chocolate, coffee, pastries, clothing, etc. You had no idea how he even knew your address.

You struggled with what to do. On one hand, you had missed your best friend for a long time. You missed the inside jokes, the comfort you found in him, and supporting one another. But on the other hand, you couldn't stop thinking about how he threw it all away because he was scared of loving you. You had never been scared of loving him, even if you never said. Well maybe that was hypocritical.

Saturday morning an envelope accompanied the box outside of your door. You opened the box first, revealing a vintage RedBull racing bomber jacket that cost who knows how much. It was cute, you'd give it that. Opening the envelope you froze as you read the letter that sat next to a paddock pass for the Brazil GP.

I know you hate me and you have a good reason to but I will do anything to have you back by my side even if you refuse to look at me. Please come to Brazil, I know it's your favorite track. You can stay on Checo's side of the garage if it makes you feel better.

Love, Your Max

Brazil was your favorite track and in the past you had always travelled down early to experience the culture for a bit before the racing started.

You facetimed Carmen, hoping to talk this through with someone else.

"Hey girl, what's up?" She asked, clearly in the middle of a workout.

"Oh, I can call later if you're busy," you said and she shook her head.

"No, it's okay!"

"Max invited me to the Brazilian GP," you told her slowly and her eyes widened.

"Wow."

"I know, I don't know what to do."

Carmen was silent for a little bit, clearly thinking. "Is there any part of you that wants to make up with him?"

"Yes," you admitted quietly. "But I hate myself for even thinking that. I don't want to just forget about everything that happened and take him back with open arms."

"I don't think you necessarily have to forget what happened but maybe focus on the people you both have grown to be in these last few years. Maybe treat it like you are starting over."

"So you think I should go?"

"Selfishly yes of course," she said grinning and you couldn't help but smile back. "You don't even have to spend time with him. Just see how it feels to be around him."

After hanging up with Carmen, you texted the number Max had given you for his assistant in order to get flights and a hotel figured out.

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

You landed in Brazil on media day and didn't plan on going to the track until Saturday. Max was pulling out all the stops even when he couldn't see you as evidenced by the ridiculously nice hotel he put you in. The view was amazing and laying on the bed was a variety of your favorite snacks and drinks with a card that read "I'm so glad you're here -your Max."

The 'Your Max' thing was working even though you hated to admit it. You spent the next two days traveling around the city by yourself and then with Carmen.

Saturday rolled around and you found yourself nervous to be at the paddock despite Carmen's constant reassurances. You hadn't seen Max yet and you weren't really sure what to say when you did.

Funny enough, the first person you ran into when you made it to the RedBull garage was Christian Horner.

"Y/n!" He said surprised to see you. "It's been a while, how are you? You know my wife is obsessed with your tik tok channel."

"Ahh tell her I said thank you," you replied kindly. "I've been doing well."

"We're glad to have you back," he said and your heart swelled. "It's been a rough year for him."

"I'm not sure I can change that," you said politely and he gave you a look.

"You just being here might," he commented before leaving you to go talk with the mechanics. You wandered around the garage, catching up with a lot of people you hadn't seen in a long time.

Max spotted you as he was coming out of his drivers' room and his heart stopped. Of course he knew you were in Brazil, but he still wasn't 100% sure you'd show up. He didn't think he should approach you so he just lingered by watching you. You felt him watching you and looked over at him, trying to control your breathing and gave him a small smile.

He smiled back before being called off to get ready for the sprint. Leaning against the back wall you pulled your headphones and settled in to watch. Max was doing pretty good, battling with Charles for most of the race. Your face appeared on the broadcast and you smiled to the camera, giving it a small wave.

After the race you checked your phone to see that you'd been tagged in countless tweets.

@.username12312: Was that y/n y/l/n in the RedBull garage? I thought her and Max had a falling out???

reply to @.usernam12312 @.user345: Yeah they haven't been friends for a long time. It had something to do with Kelly

reply to @.user345 @.username12312: oh yeah, you're right! I always liked y/n better anyways

You were amused reading the speculation and decided to stir the pot further. While Max was doing interviews you found Checo in the garage and asked him to take a picture with you. The confused man agreed and you quickly posted it to your Instagram story with the caption: My favorite RedBull driver, good luck tomorrow!

Carmen and Lily both slid up with laughing emojis and you walked back to Max's side, trying to avoid the rain. It was really coming down now and you weren't sure if they would even be able to go out on the track. You found Max a little while later sitting against the wall, legs sprawled out in front of him. You sunk down next to him, holding your knees into your chest.

"Think you'll be able to go out there today?" You asked casually and he looked over at you, clearly excited to hear you speaking to him.

"I would say probably not," he replied. "Maybe tomorrow morning."

"How much longer until we know?"

"Another half hour would be my guess," he said. "I can call for someone to take you back if you want to leave now?"

"No, I'll wait," you said looking down at your phone. You sat in silence for a while and the rain was starting to make you very sleepy. Losing the battle with yourself, you rested your head on Max's shoulder and he stiffened.

Max smiled to himself as you dozed off and the two of you caught the attention of the cameras, the photo soon to be splashed everywhere online. Quali was called off and Max nudged you awake, reaching out to help you up.

"Ride with me back?" He asked hopeful and you nodded. You ran into George and Carmen on the way out and she gave you a knowing look to which you rolled your eyes at.

"You guys should come out to dinner with us," George said. "We're meeting up with Alex and Lily too."

You hesitated, not wanting to miss out but at the same time your social battery was dead. You could only handle so much social interaction before you were craving your warm bed to snuggle into. You started to give in and agree but Max cut you off.

"I think y/n is done being around people for the day so I'm going to take her back."

You looked at him surprised and the realization that he still knew you so well just added more fire to the internal turmoil you were facing. Bidding them goodbye, you followed Max out of the paddock and into the car he had rented for the weekend. The car ride was silent as well as the elevator ride up to your floor.

Max followed close behind you as you made your way to your room and it was starting to irritate you.

"You don't need to walk me to my room Max," you said and he looked at your sheepishly.

"I'm in the one right next to you."

"Are you fucking serious?" You asked frustrated. "I need space Max!"

"I just want you to be safe," he defended and you rolled your eyes.

"From what?" You exclaimed. "Oh yeah, your girlfriend I mean ex-girlfriend is from here. Think she's sending people after me?"

"I don't think that's funny," he said, eyes darkening. "Sue me for wanting you close to me. I'm not going to apologize for that."

"You are the worst," you bit out before shoving into your room, slamming the door.

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

Stepping out of the steaming shower and back into the bedroom you glanced worriedly out the window. You wouldn't necessarily say that you had a fear of thunderstorms but they tended to make you uneasy.

Trying to distract yourself you put on South Park, your favorite show to watch in a hotel, but it didn't work. After a couple of booms you were still on edge. Sighing you got up and left your room, hoping a small walk around the hotel would ease your mind. By the time you made it back, Max was leaning against the wall by your door, waiting for you.

"Can't sleep?" He asked and you nodded.

"The storms."

"You always were scared of them," he teased and you scoffed.

"I'm not scared of them!" Right as you said that, a streak of lighting flashed by the hallway's window followed by a loud crash of thunder. You jumped a little and Max smirked.

"Come on," he said gesturing back to his room. You hesitated and he sighed. "We both know you won't fall asleep alone to this."

Giving in, you followed him into his room. It was a carbon copy of yours and you were amused to see South Park playing on his tv. He climbed into his bed but you stopped short; the scene in front of you reminded you of so many times before. When you traveled with him back in the day you'd often find yourself in his room at night hanging out. You always fell asleep and woke up in his arms, neither of you ever saying anything about it.

Max sat up in the bed looking at you, he knew what you were thinking.

"Y/n," he said softly as he watched you wipe a tear from your eye.

"This is so hard Max," you said, voice breaking. "How am I supposed to just forget?"

"I don't know," he confessed. "I'm sorry."

"It's not even like you broke my heart that day," you said meeting his eyes. "You had chipped away at it for so long that there wasn't even anything left to break."

Max's heart dropped and he moved over closer to where you were standing, so that you were now eye level.

"I was so scared back then y/n," he said and you put your head into your hands. "So scared of failing that I did things I shouldn't have done, like pushing you away to protect myself."

"Protect yourself from what?" You said, looking back at him.

"Your unconditional love," he said sadly and you tried to compose yourself, taking a deep breath.

"You acted like nothing happened, I watched you move on with your life," you accused, whispering to him.

"I did not move on, I was a mess. I couldn't eat or sleep for months and I latched on to you in whatever way I could through your videos or podcast. Every picture or video you saw of me was strictly PR."

"But you never reached out, not once in these past few years," you said, starting to grow angry with him.

"Neither did you!" He exclaimed.

"That's not fair Max," you retorted, moving away from him.

"Isn't it though? You accused me of moving on but I watched you do the same. I watched your popularity grow, watched you start to travel around the world, watched you post with other guys. You didn't need me to be happy."

"I needed my best friend!" You yelled and he flinched. "I needed you to be there to call when I got a new deal! I needed you to be there to lean on when I had self doubt! You ruined everything Max. I could never be truly happy celebrating something because in the back of my mind I was thinking about how you should have been there with me!"

Max squeezed his eyes shut, sitting down on the bed.

"I don't know how to fix this schatje," he whispered and you flinched at the term of endearment. "Everything has been so dark for so long. I am okay with you hating me forever. Because even if you just look at me, it'll be a better day than what I've had."

Sniffling, you stared into his red rimmed eyes. "I want to forget about you so badly Max but I can't."

He smiled softly at you before patting the bed.

"Please sleep here tonight, it will make me feel so much better knowing you were well rested. I'll sleep on the pull out couch," he said standing up.

"Just sleep in the bed with me," you said sighing, wiping the tears from your face before climbing into the bed. Max slid in next to you, leaving a healthy distance between the two of you and you drifted off to sleep.

The sound of his alarm woke you up at 4:30 and you groaned sleepily. Max's arms were wrapped tightly around you, his head buried in your hair as he refused to open his eyes.

"Max, you have to wake up," you said and he mumbled incoherently into you. You pried his hands off your body and stood up, stretching. He watched you lazily from the bed, wondering if this was a dream.

"I'm going to go get ready and then I'll meet you back in the hallway in 30 minutes okay?" You asked him and he nodded. Leaving his room you headed back into yours to get ready for the day. Your eyes were still a little swollen from last night but that was nothing a little makeup couldn't fix.

Pairing the new RedBull jacket with a black jeans you gathered all your stuff before texting Carmen about what had happened last night. All she responded was that we would discuss it in person and sent a winky face.

Max looked more awake standing out in the hallway and you both left for the track.

Qualifying was a mess to put it simply. Crash after crash after crash. It was spiking your anxiety to watch and you were just praying that Max would make it out unscathed. He did make it without crashing, but not without controversy.

You grew furious as you watched everyone in Q2 get to finish their laps following Lance's crash except for Max and Esteban. This made him miss out on Q3 for the first time in forever. You knew he was pissed when he got out of the car and his eyes met yours for a brief second. He talked to his engineers before grabbing your hand to drag you with him to over where he had to do interviews.

Standing behind the reporter you watched him try to contain his anger.

“If a guy goes straight into the wall, it is a straight red,” he said. “I don't understand why you need to take 30, 40 seconds for a red flag to come out...”

His voice was rising as he said it and both you and the reporter braced for the impact of whatever he was going to say next. He started to say something but then looked over at you and stopped himself, taking a deep breath before waving off the question.

“I don’t care in all honesty, it is so stupid to talk about. It’s ridiculous.”

He answered a couple more questions about the race happening later and you waited patiently. Christian came to join you and gave you a knowing look.

"I told you that being here would make things better," he said with a glint in his eyes. "I'm giving you credit for him avoiding more community service."

Things got even better after that with Max winning the Grand Prix in what you could only describe as a complete masterclass.

As the celebrations wrapped up, you and Max found yourselves alone in the quiet of the garage, both still processing the day's whirlwind. He glanced at you, a hesitant warmth in his gaze.

Max reached for your hand, gently holding it, as if afraid you'd slip away again. "I'm glad you came, I've needed you here for a long time."

"I'm still not sure where we stand Max," you said unsure of how to deal with what you were feeling.

"As long as your standing next to me, I'll be okay," he said cheekily and you smiled. You knew that your relationship had a long way to go but maybe, just maybe, it was finally starting again.

pt. 3

[lvis44]

Cabin Fever - Pt. 1 // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol Consumption, Angst, Lewis being an ass, allusions to mental health struggles, 18+ MINORS DNI, not edited

Word Count: 5.6k+

Summary: He's your Sister in Laws best friend, you shouldn't even have to deal with him. Always seeming like a cocky arrogant prick, and now here he is crashing your family Christmas. Can you handle a full week of Lewis Hamilton? Or might he not actually be as bad as he seems?

Notes: Here is the beginning of my mini holiday series. A little bit of cheesy hallmark style enemies to lovers for your winter season! It will pickup quickly and I don't expect it to be too long but I'm excited to write some over dramatic cheesy angsty fluffiness! Best believe we will have it all lol

As always, I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy!

“Hey Y/N, everything is all set for when you land tomorrow! Dylan got you a rental car so you can go out whenever you want, it’s a bit of a drive from the airport but it’ll be so cozy once you get here! Oh my god I can’t wait, this whole thing is a dream come true.” Vanessa's voice cut through your voicemail loudspeaker as you applied your makeup. You were getting ready for a night out with your friends when you saw your sister in law's voicemail, you knew you couldn't ignore it, you knew she was in the middle of planning the family Christmas vacation, the one you were immensely dreading.  You decided on sending her a voice note back, not wanting to deal with the full three hour phone call that would ensue, making you late to your friends party.

“Hey V, thank you so much, and tell Dyl thank you too, I appreciate you guys figuring out the flights, let me know what I owe you guys later, I can’t wait to see you guys.” You say into your phone with forced enthusiasm, not wanting to go to the gathering in the first place. 

You grew up in New England, the winter season always took a toll on you. You didn’t like to ski or snowboard so once you were no longer a small child, the only thing that winter brought was shoveling and grey skies, both of which you hated. Once you were old enough and had enough money, you decided to move to the golden state, LA specifically, somewhere you would never see snow in your driveway again. Unfortunately your brother had remained glued to the winter life, settling down in snowy Colorado where he decided that his first family home needed to be celebrated by all. You couldn’t blame him really, it was bigger and nicer than anywhere you had ever lived. He and Vanessa were desperate for their first guests, eager to show off their beautiful new house and host both of your families at once. It seemed like a brag for Vanessa while your brother seemed to be in awe by the size of house they had moved into.

When you arrived at the club your friends were already deep, a few drinks ahead of you and in a much more playful mood than you were feeling. You were doing your best to let loose and have a good time but the nagging knowledge of your flight the next day was sitting heavy in the back of your brain. You were only half listening to one of your friends gush about some attractive man she was eyeing when you felt your phone buzz, a text from your brother Dylan to remind you of your flight as if it wasn’t the only thing you were thinking about already. You excused yourself as you headed to the bar in search of a new drink. While you were waiting a man appeared beside you, closer than you would have liked. You could smell the liquor on his breath before he even started speaking to you.

“Pretty girl having to buy her own drinks? Now this is just ridiculous.” He tried to flirt with you, his words slurring as they came out.

You forced out a polite laugh, before turning back to the bar, hoping the bartender would come soon.

“Oooh I see, she’s playing hard to get.” He said as if to someone else before he leaned closer to you. “C’mon lemme buy you a drink.”

“Doesn’t need you to, she’s got me, fuck off dude.” The voice came from behind you, immediately recognizable, Lewis. You wanted to roll your eyes, not particularly wanting to deal with him tonight but deciding he was better than the man that was currently ogling you.

“Shit, fine alright man, my bad.” The drunk man fumbled his words, seeming slightly startled and rather intimidated by Lewis. He started to stumble away, impressing you by how quickly he gave up but you couldn’t really blame him, Lewis had a certain aura about him that really told you not to mess with him.

As the drunk man left you felt Lewis take his spot next to you at the bar, not bothering to look at him, not really wanting to interact with him at all. You only knew Lewis through your sister in law Vanessa, they were family friends so he was around for important moments, holidays, birthdays, weddings etc. Those were the only times you ever interacted with him and every time you had left with a bad taste in your mouth. He seemed aloof, cocky, like he thought he was too good for the rest of humanity. He was annoyingly attractive and he knew it, you’d overheard him spitting game at more than a few women at your brother's wedding, and almost every single one of the women was falling for it. He had a way of carrying himself that just oozed arrogance, like everything about him was a level above everything and everyone else. You also had a certain distaste for the fact that every time you spoke to him he seemed to find a way to belittle you, talk down to you in a way that made you feel like a child despite being a fully grown woman. You had figured that you would be seeing him at some point this upcoming week, knowing Vanessa would have invited him for some part, but you didn’t think it would be at home in a club in LA that you first bumped into each other, never having done so before.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Colorado?” He asks, his voice already holding that familiar layer of judgement that you’ve grown to despise.

“Flights tomorrow morning.” You tell him, keeping it short, hoping the conversation doesn’t need to be much longer than necessary.

“Flight in the morning and you’re out at a club?” He quizzes you and you can hear in his voice that he’s getting ready to offer you advice you really don’t want or need.

“Just wanted to blow off a little steam before a week in paradise.” You huff, waving to the bar tender yet again, not meaning to let the last part slip so sarcastically.

“You act like we’re locking you in a dungeon and throwing away the key.” He almost chuckles before downing the rest of whatever had been in his cup.

“We?” You ask abruptly, finally turning to look at him. You had been anticipating seeing him but the way he said that made it sound like he was going to be around quite a bit more than expected. It truly pissed you off that the second you finally faced him, you were checking him out, such a pretty face with such an annoying attitude.

“I’ll be in Colorado for the week.” He said plainly with a shrug.

“At Dylan and Vanessas?” You asked in an almost panicked tone that he immediately noticed.

“Jeez, chill out, I’ve got my own place out there. Little miss perfect won’t have to worry about mean ol’ Lewis all week, I’ll just be around here and there.” His tone was teasing as he said it, making you roll your eyes, unsure of how else to respond. Before you could think of anything to say the bartender finally arrived in front of you, Lewis was ordering something before elbowing you, prompting you to tell the man what you wanted.

“You’re welcome by the way.” Lewis said, his voice smug as the bartender walked away.

Once again you found yourself rolling your eyes before forcing yourself to thank him for the drink, “Thank you, but you didn’t actually have to buy me a drink.”

“Your eyes are gonna get stuck like that if you keep rolling them that hard.” He told you, an unamused look on his face.

“You sound like my father.” You grumbled.

“Well maybe he has a point,” He shrugged, “but I wasn’t talking about the drink, was talking about your stupid drunk man. Gotta find better company.”

“I didn’t exactly invite him over here, Lewis. And I didn’t ask for you to come rescue me.” You snapped.

“Well you're V’s sister in law now and she's my little sis so I kinda had to.” He stated plainly as the bartender finally returned.

You watched as Lewis turned on his charm for the man, thanking him and giving him a generous tip, showing the side of the man that everyone else seemed to see all the time, one that he never reserved for you.

“Enjoy your drink and then go home, don’t miss your flight because you were out partying or show up hungover. Just get yourself there in one piece, that’s literally all they ask of you.” His words are directed at you again, coming out with an assumed authority that baffles you.

“I’m a grown woman Lewis, I’ll be just fine.” You bite at him, annoyed that he thinks he has the right to tell you what to do.

“I know Y/N, I know.” He says with a sigh as he grabs his drink. You watch as he steps around you, leaving back into the crowd without even a proper parting word. It once again causes you to roll your eyes before making your way back to your own friends.

“Okay, hot man at the bar, do you know him?” Your friend Lillian was leaning on you almost immediately, digging for info on Lewis that second you were within earshot.

“Uh, kinda, not really, he’s kind of an ass.” You tell her, hoping to dissuade her.

“Well with a face like that he can be an ass to me anytime he wants.” She says enthusiastically.

You just humm in response, returning your attention to your drink, not really wanting to further discuss Lewis and his annoying ways or aggravating beauty. His words about not missing your flight bounce around in the back of your head, of course you had already been aware of not being late but now it was all that was on your mind. Between his words and Dylans reminder you suddenly felt as if everyone was expecting you to flake, not actually convinced you were going to show up at all. Before you could even finish your drink you were deciding to leave, truly not in the party mood any longer. As you made your way to the door you just knew he was watching you, you could feel it and you hated that he was getting the confidence of seeing you do exactly what he told you to.

. . . 

Your morning had been hell, your flight having been delayed three times due to incoming weather. When you finally landed in Colorado you were well and truly in a cranky mood, one that only turned even further sour when the woman at the rental agency got snappy with you for being late for your pickup. You had tried to explain to her that your brother had made the reservation and that your flight was delayed but her attitude did not budge. She remained snippy with you as she grumbled about ‘finding you something to take’ before handing you the keys to a tiny sedan. When you approached it in the lot you were at your wits end, it's not that you needed something fancy or luxurious, it was the fact that the car you were looking at seemed as light as could be and evidently still had summer tires on it. There was a big winter storm brewing and you knew you still had at least a 45 minute drive to your brother's house, one that you hadn’t been looking forward to anyway. The snow was already coming down as you sat in the parking lot waiting for the car to warm up at least enough to defrost the windshield, you listened to the man on the radio talk about the incoming storm, saying it was set to be the biggest snowfall the area had seen in years and it was going to come down quick. You couldn’t help but grumble to yourself about your displeasure for the snow  as you texted your brother to let him know that you were getting on the road.

The storm thankfully decided to be merciful, only really beginning to pick up in the very last stretch of your journey, barely even causing any delay for you. When you got to your brother's house you could feel yourself letting out a sigh of relief, knowing that soon enough you would be inside a warm and cozy house with the people that you love, hopefully eating good food and having a cocktail. The moment your brother opened the front door you were met with the smell of a fireplace and something cooking for dinner, your tension slipping away just a bit more.

“Y/N! Thank god, I was getting worried when I saw the snow picking up.” Dylan said cheerfully, pulling you into the house to give you a tight hug.

“Hi Dyl, it’s definitely getting heavy out there but I think I missed the worst of it.” You can’t help but laugh slightly at how tightly your brother has embraced you.

“Come in, V’s got dinner going, Dad was just getting ready to make a round of drinks.” He rambles to you as he pulls you further in the house, reaching around to grab your suitcase off the porch.

“The Holidays can now begin, my other baby has arrived!”  Your moms voice carries loudly from the kitchen before you see her almost jogging in your direction, her arms wide ready for an embrace.

“Mom,” you laugh as she squeezes you even tighter than Dylan had, “you knew I was coming. Sorry I’m late guys, the airport was insane.”

“Sounds like you could use a drink Kiddo.” Your dad is next to pull you into a hug, not even having made it out of the foyer yet.

“I will take you up on that, I also need to change into something a little warmer, I dressed for cold LA not Colorado.” You admit as he presses a kiss to the top of your head, making you feel like a child.

“Yeah for sure, let me show you your room and then you can come say hello to everyone in the kitchen once you've changed.” Dylan says, grabbing your bag and already making his way up the stairs.

“This place is beautiful, Dylan.” You tell him earnestly as you follow him down the long hallway. It’s everything that you would imagine if someone told you they had purchased a Chateau in Colorado, deep exposed wood, high ceilings, massive windows. You were excited to see the rest of it, knowing Vanessa would be adamant about giving you a full tour. It was much too big for what they needed but you figured that didn’t matter as long as they were happy.

“Thank you, it’s really a dream come true. Never thought I would live in a place like this, much less own it.” He confesses as he swings open the door to a room at the end of the hall.

You offer your brother a warm smile before you turn to take in the room, suddenly stunned when you see the size and luxury of it. The room is expansive, massive windows on two walls and what appears to be a large balcony off the back. There is a sitting area in front of a fireplace and what appears to be a king size bed in the middle of the room. You can see another door off to the side and you can only assume it is a private bathroom.

“Dylan what the fuck? Why does it look like the master suite?” You ask him, overwhelmed, not having expected anything so grand.

He just shrugs with a smile as he steps further into the room, placing your luggage down next to the bed. “We just wanted you to be comfortable, we know this year has been hard for you and winter isn’t something you get along with, we’re just grateful you decided to come.”

“Dylan, I am not kicking you guys out of your room, oh my god.” You start to panic, immediately feeling guilty.

“No, you’re not,” He laughs at you, placing a hand on your shoulder, “this is a guest suite, it's just the nicest of them.”

You let out a breath before feeling guilty again, “No what about mom and dad, or Beatrice and Tom, they should be in here, I just need a bedroom, this is too much.”

“Stop, everyones already settled, and we all agreed that you should have your own space, away from the rest of us. It only seemed fair.” His voice is sincere, not giving you any time to rebuttal before he is leaving the room and telling you to get changed.

By the time you make your way back downstairs everyone has settled in the den with drinks in their hand. You had to wander a bit at first, following the sounds of voices and laughter. The room was cozy, still sprawling but the lights were dim and the furniture was plush. You could hear the storm truly picking up outside, the trees snapping back and forth in the wind outside the window making you grateful for the fire crackling in the corner.

“Perfect, Y/N, I have a drink ready for you right here!” Vanessa called to you as you walked into the room.

“Thank you so much, this place is beautiful.” You tell her as you settle into the seat beside her, taking the drink and giving her a small hug.

“Ugh, thank you, this place is just such a dream come true, straight out of a fantasy.” She gushes immediately, promising to give you a tour once you've had some time to relax.

“Y/N, good to see you, feels like it's been a while.” Tom, Vanessa’s father, speaks up from across the room, raising his glass of whiskey in your direction. You offer him a smile, feeling a moment of guilt wash over you, knowing you had been invited to a few celebrations where your paths would have crossed but had decided against attending.

“She’s a busy woman, always nice to have her around when we get the chance.” Dylan pipes up, offering you a subtle save, knowing you probably don’t want to get too much into your personal life at the moment.

The conversation thankfully moves on, Tom choosing to change direction and grill Dylan on everything that is going on for him with his company, ever protective of Vanessa even now that they're married and in this beautiful home. Your mother on the other hand chooses to come sit next to you and Vanessa, Beatrice following her shortly thereafter. They do ask about your life in LA but Vanessa's mother is more interested in hearing if you’ve had any celebrity sightings than she is about your woes in life. Your mother wants to show off photos of art projects she’s been doing to keep herself busy. You can’t help but laugh at the two older women as you settle into the evening, nursing your drink as you share amused glances with Vanessa every once in a while. Every so often you hear the wind outside pick up, the storm casting a white haze over the large window at the end of the room. When you hear the doorbell you glance around the room, unsure of who would still be yet to arrive, especially so late and in the storm. Vanessa looks confused as well, Dylan getting up to go check the door.

“Hey man, didn’t expect to see you for another day or two.” You hear Dylan greet someone enthusiastically.

“Yeah, I caught an earlier flight out trying to avoid the storm and ended up landing smack in the middle of it. Wasn’t sure if I’d be able to make it back this way in the next few days so I figured I’d stop on my way out to my house.” The familiar British accent carries through the house, Vanessa's face lighting up as she darts up from her seat, ready to go greet her friend.

You feel yourself deflate slightly, having been enjoying the casual and kind air of the evening, knowing his presence would definitely cause a difference. You hear their voices approach from down the hall, Tom and Beatrice standing up, excited to see the man they have long adopted as a son. You always wondered if part of Tom was disappointed that Lewis and Vanessa hadn't ended up together, merely from the way that Tom's attention would end up solely on Lewis when he was around, almost entirely ignoring your brother. 

“Son, always a pleasure. How was your flight?” Tom asks the moment Lewis appears in the room, pulling him into a fatherly hug.

“Good to see you, sorry to pop in unannounced.” Lewis starts politely, turning on the charm toward Beatrice.

“Never worry, you’re always welcome.” She gushes, so happy to see him. It does make you laugh to yourself, it’s not her house to extend the invitation to but you’re not surprised.

He gives her a warm smile before continuing, “Yeah, flight was alright, a little choppy but nothing too bad. The airport here was a disaster though, glad I’d left my car there, the rental lot was picked through and cabs aren’t taking anyone past town.”

“Yeah, Y/N was saying the airport was crazy, I think she got the last rental car on the lot.” Dylan says, suddenly making Lewis aware of your presence, his eyes snapping to you.

“You remember Dylan's little sister,” Beatrice begins before Lewis is politely cutting her off.

“Y/N, of course,” He nods at you in what seems a kind way before the jab lands, “good job making it here.”

To everyone else it sounds like a comment about the storm but you know, you can see in his eye that he's referencing your conversation the prior night. His comment about everyone wanting you to just show up, it makes you think about Tom's comment when you first sat down, everyone knows you are the weak link. Before you can even respond, Vanessa is ushering him further into the room, annoyingly placing him where she had been sitting, directly next to you. She wanders away, headed to make Lewis a drink, completely unaware of the tension she sat next to you.

“You just get here?” Lewis asks, surprising you that he’s bothering with conversation at all.

“Few hours ago.” You say simply, turning your attention to watch the snow swirl in a mesmerizing dance.

He just nods, following your gaze to the window. 

Before anyone has a chance to say anything else, Vanessa is returning with Lewis’ drink and announcing to everyone that dinner is ready. Lewis begins to protest, not wanting to intrude on a family dinner but everyone else is quick to shush him, telling him they would love for him to stay. Shortly thereafter you are all seated around a beautiful table, Lewis sitting directly across from you, a delicious looking meal placed in the center. Tom takes a moment to thank Vanessa for inviting everyone and being such a wonderful host, gushing about his daughter as he forgets to mention Dylan for even a moment. As the bowls get passed around the table you can’t help but notice that Lewis is ignoring almost everything that is placed in front of him, passing it along without a moments thought. By the time everyone is served you notice that his plate is only a salad, it makes you want to scoff, not even during his off season will he let himself indulge in something, too focused on his physique. You stay relatively quiet throughout dinner, just listening to everyone else chatter, it’s not until your mom asks Lewis what he has been up to since the season ended that you are caught off guard.

“I spent the last week in LA, needed some sun before winter.” He tells her, causing wires to connect in her brain.

“Oh! Y/N lives in LA, what a coincidence, I’m surprised you two don’t see each other more often.” The excitement in her voice makes you laugh as you quickly go to shut her down, not even registering that you had in fact seen him just the night before.

“Mom, it's a massive city-” You laugh.

“Well we actually saw each other last night.” Lewis says at the same time as you, stopping you in your tracks. He’s staring right at you as he takes a casual sip of his water before he glances around the table.

“Really?” Tom asks, leaning in like this is the news of the year.

“Oh come on, you didn’t tell them?” Lewis laughs, it’s hollow, not like the warm laugh you’ve heard directed towards other people. He knew you wouldn’t have mentioned it, he’s enjoying being the one to let everyone know you were out partying the night before family holiday.

“I mean, no I didn’t, but it’s not like it’s common.” You stutter out, weirdly flustered all the sudden.

“Yeah, ran into her out with some of her friends at a club last night, had to save her from a creepy drunk guy who didn’t want to leave her alone.” He tells the table casually, settling back into his seat.

“Well I’m glad you were there Lewis, I worry about her when I hear about her going out like that. This world is just getting too dangerous to be out flaunting yourself like that.” Your dad pipes up, making you whip your head in his direction.

“Dad, I wasn’t-” You begin to argue before getting cut off by Lewis.

“It wasn’t her fault. She was just there, shouldn’t have to hide away just because she’s a woman.” Lewis says firmly, looking at you again as if to seal his words, catching you off guard by defending you.

“Thanks.” You silently mouth in his direction. He doesn’t acknowledge it, carrying on with his story instead.

“But yeah, the guy left pretty quickly, he was harmless. I was surprised to see her though, figured she would already be here. I was glad to see you left when you did, with your flight this morning and all.” He continues.

“You were out too.” You quickly fire back at him, not enjoying the embarrassment in front of your family.

“Had a later flight than you,” He simply shrugs, a smirk forming on his face, “How was this morning, rough one?”

“My only issue this morning was the weather, thanks.” You say, a snip in your tone.

“Glad to hear it.” He says, getting comfortable in his seat as he thankfully changes topics. 

Thankfully the awkward air that had settled over dinner dissipated quickly and before you knew it Lewis was saying that he needed to get going, still needing to drive another hour to his own house. There was no hesitation before Vanessa and Beatrice were telling him to spend the night, not enjoying the idea of him travelling in the weather at night. You noticed his eyes flicker to you as he started to turn them down, part of you wondered if he was doing it because he told you he wasn’t staying with them but you doubted he was being that thoughtful. He stayed strong, adamant that he would be fine and that he really wanted to settle into his own place but that he would be back later in the week.You feel a certain relief as you see him finally manage to say his goodbyes, bundling up in his long woolen coat as he makes his way out the door. You can hear the wind when he stepped out the door and you did worry that his drive would be far from enjoyable but you didn’t feel like hanging out with him much longer. 

As you helped clear the table you noticed something on the ground, right below where Lewis had been sitting. You put down the plates in your hands with a huff, reaching down to grab what turned out to be a wallet. You internally groaned, of course he dropped his wallet, of course you found it, it would be wrong to send him on his way without it, especially in this weather. You let out a sigh, jogging to the front door, hoping he hadn’t left yet. When you pulled the front door open you were shocked, you almost couldn’t see the front steps mere feet from you.

“Holy shit.” You muttered to yourself, grabbing the nearest pair of boots by the door, haphazardly throwing them on in hopes of catching Lewis.

When you cautiously made your way down off the porch, wading through the rather deep snow that now covered the path to the driveway, you saw him clearing the snow off his car. His jacket was blowing in the wind and he had an arm up to shield his face from the blowing snow, much like you yourself did. You let out a sigh of resignation, there’s no way you could let him drive an hour in this, no matter how badly he got on your nerves. You continue to make your way toward him, snow falling into the borrowed boots making you wince.

“Lewis,” You call out to him, “what the hell are you doing?”

He turns toward you, a confused look across his features, “Cleaning off my car, what do you need?”

“I can see that,” You say as you get closer to him, rolling your eyes at his answer, “I mean why the heck are you trying to drive home in this? Just come back inside.”

“Came all the way out here to save me? I’ll be fine, you seemed pretty worried that I was staying here the other night.” He says, turning back to his car.

“Actually I came out here because you dropped your wallet.” You say plainly, not enjoying his attitude but catching his attention again.

“Shit, thanks.” He extends his hand, waiting for you to hand it over.

“No, you’re insane, just grab your bag and come back inside. You annoy the shit out of me but I don’t particularly want you dead on the side of the road.” You shake your head, stepping back from him to prove that you’re not handing his wallet over until he turns his car off and comes inside.

“Well that's nice to hear.” He says sarcastically.

“You dying right before Christmas would kind of ruin holidays for me forever, V would be distraught.” You throw at him, it being partially true.

“Fine.” He concedes through a huff, his shoulders slumping as he trudges to his car door to kill the engine.

You watch as he grabs his bag from the backseat before making his way toward you, gesturing impatiently for you to go so he can follow you back to the house.

“Besides, now I’m the hero that convinced Mr. Perfect to stay, I basically just saved your life.” You say teasingly over your shoulder as you start your way up the steps. You’re too focused on your own dig and not enough on the slippery stairs, your feet almost coming out from under you. Much to your embarrassment, Lewis is there with a steadying grip on your arm.

“Just saved my life and then tried to break my neck by falling on me.” He mutters, letting go of you once you're stable.

“Give me a break, I’m pretty sure I’m wearing Dylan's boots.” You argue, pulling away from him harshly.

The moment you are inside he is being swarmed by your family again, all so happy he has decided to stay the night, no one even paying attention to the fact that you’ve come inside with him. Dylan is quickly showing him to his room for the night, apologizing that it’s not very fancy. You decide to slip away up to your room, having gotten rather cold and wet in your time outside. The whole time you’re getting ready for bed you’re telling yourself that it’s only for the night. You won’t even notice that he’s here and he will be gone tomorrow when the storm has passed. That hope lasts very briefly until you hear a knock on your door. You naively swing the door open, assuming it's someone to come say goodnight, and there he is.

“What the hell do you want?” You groan.

He doesn’t respond, he just pushes off the doorframe pushing past you into your room as he lets out a long whistle.

“This might actually be nicer than my bedroom at home.” He says, still ignoring your question as he looks around the room.

“Yeah it’s beautiful. What do you want?” You ask again, eager for him to leave so you can climb under the blankets.

“So pushy,” He chuckles, turning back to you, “I believe you have something of mine?”

“Right.” You say flatly, moving past him to the dresser where you had thrown his wallet that had still been in your pocket.

“How much did ya take?” He asks after you hand it to him, flicking it open as if to inspect that all his cards are still there.

“Not nearly enough.” You grumble, sitting down on the end of the bed.

He just chuckles, taking another glance around your room before walking out of your room without a word, something he seems to be making a habit of. You groan when you see that he’s left your door wide open, reluctantly making your way off your bed.

“He’ll be gone tomorrow.” You mutter to yourself as you lean against the now closed door, and you can only pray it's true.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 24

part 1 | part 23 | ao3

cw: alcohol, throwing up, brief reference to canonical character death

"Oh, my god!" Robin barks, nearly throwing herself off-balance again with the force of her laugh. "This is too good, man. You truly cannot escape your babysitting duties."

"Can I help you?" Max seethes.

Help him? Help him? "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" She gestures to the guy she's holding onto, some fluffy-haired kid with a cut-off vest covered in safety pins that Steve sort of vaguely recognizes as one of Eddie's friends. Oh, shit. Is Eddie here finally? Has he seen him?

"Wait, where's Lucas?" Steve asks.

"Who cares?" she bites back.

The guy gives a nervous chuckle and loosens his grip on her waist. "Uh-h. Did you say babysitter?"

"He's not actually, Jesus. I'm fourteen; I don't need a babysitter. And he was just leaving, anyway, right?"

Her glare feels like a slap. Girl's got daggers in her eyes, holy shit. It's like she's hoping some of El's powers magically transferred to her; like she's picturing him flying ten feet into the air and landing with a splat on the far side of the concrete, and he doesn't need this. He did not come out tonight to be bullied by a teenager. "Okay, that's it, I'm taking—"

"—me to the punch bowl!" Robin interrupts, putting her hands on Steve's chest to stop him from grabbing Max and hauling her back to the car.

"Robin, what—?"

"Yep!" She shoves him hard, pushing him to the edge of the dance floor. "Silly me, just dying of thirst, ha ha. Okay, cool, see you both later!"

—

"What the hell was that?" Steve demands when they're safely on the far side of the pavilion.

"An intervention."

Oh, my god. May he never hear the word 'intervention' again in his life.

"Un-ruffle your Mother Hen feathers for two seconds and think, would you? One: it would look really, really, seriously weird for you to be seen dragging a dead jock's kid sister kicking and screaming to your car."

A dead jock’s kid sister. Jesus, tipsy Robin has no tact.

"Two: you said we were going to go out and have fun and get, and I quote, 'very drunk.' Take your babysitter hat off for one night. She's a high schooler, and this is a high school party."

"Yeah, I know," he sulks. Doesn't need the reminder that he's technically past the age limit.

"Okay, so then let her have fun! It's not like you weren't out drinking and smoking by her age."

'I'm always so right about everything. I'm, like, cosmically correct.' Goddammit. Steve needs another drink. "I just don't want her to do anything dumb and get hurt."

"She won't. We can just, like, keep an eye on her from a distance, right? Let her come to us if she needs anything."

"So we should just act like your parents?" Steve snorts.

"My parents are amazing, thank you!"

"Your mom offered me mushroom tea once."

"Like I said: amazing."

Steve huffs a laugh, flips his hair out of his eyes and snags a handful of tortilla chips. "Okay," he says around a crunchy bite, "so what's the third thing?"

"Third thing?" Robin asks. She’s not even looking at him anymore, her eyes eager and distracted as she scans the crowd.

"You're biting your lip weird, there's clearly a third thing."

She turns to him, and the smile springs free from its containment, spreading all over her flushed, ecstatic face. "Vickie just showed up."

—

Steve’s hammered.

Whoops.

Didn’t mean to do it; feels a little bad about it as he tips his head up to the sky and all the stars go raining in bright streaks across his vision. Reminds him of the ceiling at Starcourt, nauseous and spinning under a swirl of bright fluorescence. He hopes Rob’s flirting is going well.

He meant to get politely drunk.

A socially appropriate amount.

But then Robin ran off to flirt with Vickie, and Steve was doing his best to just lay low, steer clear of Max and maybe find a way to casually run into Eddie if he could find him, when he spotted the girl he went on that disaster of a date with instead and realized his options were either: stay there by the beer coolers while she came over with her new date and subjected him to the most painful small talk of his life, or retreat to the dark edges of the party with as much booze as he could carry, so.

He's slumped on top of a picnic bench downwind of the bonfire, bad ear ringing, belly full to bursting, trying to remember when one beer became… more than one beer.

Five?

Six, maybe?

Fuck.

“‘M gonna puke,” he confesses to the splintered wood beneath his feet; to the pine bough overhead, the smoky fire at his back.

“Wow,” someone says, an amused lilt to their tone, and Steve knows that voice, he—

Oh, no.

Ohhhh, no.

Now? Really?

Steve whips his head around, opens his mouth to ask ‘Eddie?’ and barfs all over his shoes.

—

part 25

tag list part 1 below the cut, let me know if you want me to add you tomorrow (21+ only, please confirm your age if you're asking to be tagged)

@a-little-unsteddie @ahsokatanoss @aliea82 @alyelf @anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @awolfstudio @bambibiest @bananahoneycomb @bookbinderbitch @bronwenmarie @cheonsazu @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @courtjestermunson @cuips-not-cute @dauntlessdiva @dawners @dontwasteyourchances @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @eriquin @estrellami-1 @fandomfix8 @gregre369 @griefabyss69 @grtwdsmwhr @hallucinatedjosten @hellion-child @hiimlevi @honoragreyskull @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @kas-eddie-munson @kingelyx @lifeisacrisis @littlebluejane @marvel-ous-m @melonmochi @messrs-weasley @milklechee @mrsjellymunson @mugloversonly @munsonslure @nburkhardt @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notsopersonalcharlie @novelnovella @nuggies4life @phoenixtheone @questionablequeeries @runninriot

[lilasamaaa]

A lapse in judgement | Carlos Sainz x Reader

Genre | Angst (of course), Hurt/Comfort, Fluff.

Word count | 3.8K

Warnings | Mention of sexual activities, rejection.

Summary | The long-awaited dinner with your in-laws doesn't go as planned... Will you and your boyfriend manage to change their minds about your relationship?

Author's note | I'm back, bitches! This lovely prompt was requested, thank you for the idea Anon! I hope you all like it, please let me know what you think! ✨ (not proofread lmao)

Being the new girlfriend after the one who got away fucking sucks. Even when your lover was the one to end things. It's quite something to be the girl after the one he was supposed to spend his life with. Get married with. Have kids with. You wouldn't wish anyone to be in your place. Yet, here you are, all because you fell in love with him. Carlos Sainz. Him and his doe eyes. His impeccable hair. His charming smile. Frankly, you didn't stand a chance.

You knew who he was, of course. Formula 1 is among your fondest childhood memories, sitting in front of the TV with your siblings and parents. Each Grand Prix was a household event, and you could never bring yourself to part with the Ferrari-colored jacket you wore every race Sunday. It's been years since you've fit into it, but the memory is too precious. So, yes, you knew who he was. And you recognized him immediately when he walked through the door of your workplace, sunglasses perched on his nose.

You don't follow Formula 1 as closely as before. Just enough to keep up with the news. You don't pretend not to know who he is. What's the point in pretending?

"Back from Monza already?" you ask, wiping your hands on a clean towel.

He smiles. A polite smile, but one that seems to indicate he's not keen on chatting. Or at least, not about that. You ask him what he'd like, and he asks for anything with soy milk in it. He orders two, to go, and you smile again. Okay, you think. Understood. The exchange lasts no more than two minutes, and soon, the driver exits the coffee shop, leaving behind a lingering woody scent.

Weeks pass without crossing paths with him again, and honestly, the encounter has completely slipped your mind. That one early morning, though, you're sitting at one of the café tables, contemplating new drinks, new recipes to implement based on some customer feedback, when the little bell chimes behind you. You definitely need to stop leaving the door open to let the floor dry after your morning cleaning session.

You turn around, ready to inform the friendly customer that the café doesn't open for another twenty minutes, when you catch his gaze.

"I know you're not open yet," he starts, putting both hands in front of him. "I saw the sign. But I really need some coffee, and all the other shops are closed."

"I suppose I can make an exception for such an emergency," you say as you rise from your seat, smiling kindly at him. "What can I get you?"

"I don't remember the name of what you made for me last time, but it was incredible. There was..."

"Soy milk?"

"Yeah."

"I'm on it," you say, turning around. "Two?" you ask, feeling like you already know the answer.

"Yes, please."

You hurry behind the bar, preparing the two coffees, and you place them in front of him a few seconds later. He takes out his phone to pay and places it on the terminal, which emits a soft "beep." Then, he picks up one of the coffees before sliding the second one towards you.

"This one's for you," he says, and you barely manage to hide your surprise.

"Oh," you say. "If I had known, I wouldn't have charged you for the second one."

"But it wouldn't have been the same, then. I wouldn't have offered it to you," the driver says, winking at you before taking a step back. "Thank you so much for the favor. Have a good day!"

With that, he's gone. As you sip your hot coffee slowly, you wonder when you'll see him again next time. But already, your employees arrive and pull you from your thoughts.

"That guy outside kinda looked like Carlos Sainz, no?" Lucia, one of them, asks while tying her apron.

"You've seen him? I thought so, too," you reply with a smile.

The next time you see him is the exact opposite. You've just bid your last employee a good evening, and you're putting the chairs up on the tables in preparation for the morning cleanup. A knock on the storefront makes you look up, and you smile when you see him. You open the door, and he slips inside, slightly damp from the light rain falling outside.

"Have you ever heard of opening hours?" you ask while wiping down the countertop.

"Can't say I have," he replies with a grin, the sight making your stomach flutter.

"I think congratulations are in order," you begin, throwing the towel over your shoulder. "That was a clean win in Singapore."

"Thank you. It might be a bit late for a coffee, but would you like to grab a drink with me?"

The proposition takes you by surprise.

"Like? Right now?"

"Yeah. Right now. I know a place not far from here."

"Aren't you afraid of being seen or something?" you ask, arching a brow.

"Never with beautiful women, no."

You chuckle, rolling your eyes. You've been living in Spain for ten years, yet you don't think you'll ever get used to the natural flirty nature of its inhabitants.

"Give me ten minutes to change and close up, and I'll join you," you say, while he nods, sitting on one of the bar stools.

Carlos takes you to a dancing bar, obviously run by friends since he spends five minutes shaking hands and greeting everyone as you enter. He leads you to the back of the bar, to a secluded corner where the music is much quieter, and you can actually have a conversation. You have no idea what to say. Where do you even start with a Formula 1 driver? Someone whose life is so different, so far removed from yours. Sensing your discomfort, Carlos takes the lead, asking you questions about your café, (Did you open it by yourself?) and about your life. (Where are you from? You have an accent).

The evening passes, and the drinks flow until you find yourselves tightly pressed together on the dance floor. Your back against his chest. His hands on your hips. Yours on his neck. Swaying to the rhythm of the music, all senses heightened. His lips don't take long to seek yours, and from the wall of the bar against which he pins you, you transition to his mattress, his warm body pressed against yours.

You don't sleep much that night. You don't know if you'll ever have the chance to see him again. To have him like that again. So, you lavish your lips on his, your body against his. And in the early morning, as you wake up entangled in each other's arms, and you almost expect him to kick you out... He climbs back on top of you instead, pressing warm kisses against your mouth, your collarbones, your navel... You arrive at the café thirty minutes late, with bags under your eyes. It's never happened before, and your employees are so surprised that none of them even think to joke about your poor state.

You don't hear a word from him for the next ten days. Occasionally, you glance at the app you downloaded, which informs you about upcoming races. You know he's in Qatar. You try not to let the little voice in your head win. The one that laughs at you. That tells you that you'll never see him again. He's working, you think. He's busy. Your life goes on, though you can't help but watch for him early in the morning and late at night, your eyes lingering on the storefront.

Then, one day, he comes back. Right in the middle of the shift. Seeing him walk into the café, Lucia lets out a scream and drops the cup she was holding. "Dios mio," she says, clutching her heart. Several seated customers turn around, but nobody seems to pay attention to the tall brunette with caramel eyes whose gaze is fixated on you, from across the counter.

"Soy milk?" you ask, trying to contain your smile.

"Yes, please. Only one."

And then, he starts coming every day. Every day he's not on the other side of the world, that is. By his seventh visit, Lucia can almost serve him his coffee without spilling any, her hands shaking so much.

Outside of the café, the two of you slowly start going to museums. To restaurants. To the cinema. But there's one place you both prefer. His bed. You spend hours there, exploring each other's bodies or talking about everything and nothing. Exchanging thousands of kisses or sharing your worst childhood embarrassments. Moaning against each other or talking about your very first pet. And one evening, as you were recounting how your respective parents had met, he asks you the question.

"Speaking of that, would you like to meet them?"

Your heart skips a beat. It's been six months since you've been seeing each other. Since you've been exclusive. Since you've been a couple, in reality, even if neither of you has dared to say the word. That one, and the other. The one that starts with an L. Even though you know you do... And you sense he does too.

"I don't know," you say, resting your head against his bare chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "Have you talked to your family about us?"

"Of course," Carlos says, pressing a kiss to your head. "They know I've been seing someone. And they know it's serious."

"Do they even want to meet me?"

"They haven't asked, if that's your question," your boyfriend replies. "But they never have, with anyone. They know it's something I like to do at my own pace."

You nod, and a few minutes later, the fateful dinner is set for the following Saturday. Already, the ball of anxiety that has lodged itself in your stomach grows. And soon enough, you find yourself standing in front of the door of the imposing Sainz mansion, your throat tight and your hand sweaty in Carlos'.

"Relax," the driver says, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before stroking your thumb. "They're not that bad."

Carlos knocks on the door, and a young woman opens it before jumping into your boyfriend's arms. You recognize her instantly from the pictures in Carlos' phone. Blanca. As if pronouncing her name in your head had reminded her of your existence, Blanca turns her head, smiling politely in your direction.

"Nice to meet you," she says rather blankly before gesturing for you two to come inside.

You encounter his other sister, Ana, in the hallway a few seconds later. She isn't much warmer, not even offering a smile and simply saying "Welcome" before rushing to hug her brother. The reception from the two women surprises you a little, and doesn't really help you feel confident about the evening. Carlos doesn't seem phased by the situation, helping you out of your coat before guiding you to the living room where the two young women have already disappeared. You're about to walk through the door when your eyes stop on a series of frames hung across from the front door. Your heart skips a beat. Feeling you come to a halt, Carlos stops as well, following your gaze.

"Fucking hell," your boyfriend says before taking the frame off the wall and placing it upside down on the buffet below. "I'm sorry. This photo has been there for so long that they probably don't even notice it anymore," he adds, his tone apologetic.

You know he's trying to reassure you, but his words have the opposite effect. You've briefly talked about your exes. Well, more about his. Isa. The girl he was with for seven fucking years. The one his parents loved so much. Seeing a photo of them together right before meeting your in-laws is like a knife to the heart. A reminder that you're the new girl. The one replacing her. You muster a smile that you know is fake at Carlos before continuing on your way. As you arrive in the living room, his two parents stand up from the couch, rushing to their son to hug him.

The embraces last a few seconds, until they turn to you. You greet them politely, handing his mother a huge bouquet of flowers and his father a bottle of fine wine, as they thank you with strained smiles.

"I also brought chocolates from my shop for you," you continue, turning to his sisters sitting at the dining table. "They're from a small producer in Andalusia, a real treat..."

"How kind of you," Blanca says dryly.

You miss the glance that Carlos shoots his sister, behind you. A stern look. One that scream "be careful". One Blanca pretends not to see.

"Let's sit down," Carlos' mother announces, gesturing for everyone to take a seat.

Intimidated, you stick close to Carlos, sitting next to him. The table is beautiful, adorned with fine porcelain and various flowers. You smile as you spot silver napkin rings and pick up the one in front of you. Your next breath gets caught in your throat when your eyes land on the letters engraved in the metal. Isabel.

"Ah yes, sorry," Ana begins, following your gaze. "We didn't have time to make a new one. I hope you don't mind."

"It's fine," you say, looking up and smiling at her.

"So, dear, what do you do?" Carlos' father asks. "Carlos told us about a café, but we didn't quite understand."

"I opened my own café a few years ago. We also serve fresh pastries that I bake every morning. It's really taking off; I have several employees now, and I'm planning to open a second one soon..."

"Did you study culinary arts?" her mother asks.

"Uh, no, I don't have any degree," you reply with a nervous laugh. "School just wasn't my thing."

Ana and Blanca exchange a glance, and you lower your head, feeling your cheeks flush. You feel Carlos' hand on your thigh, and you cast him a grateful glance, which he doesn't see, his eyes fixed on his sisters.

"And so, the two of you met at the café, is that right?" his father resumes.

"Yes, that's right," you reply with a smile. "In May, the first time."

"In May?" Ana asks, looking at her brother. "Weren't you still with Isa?"

"Are we gonna mention her all night?" Carlos snaps.

"It's just a question, no need to get upset," Ana replies, rolling her eyes.

"Did you know who he was?" Blanca asks, holding your gaze.

"Uh, yeah, I recognized him. But I served him like any other customer," you recount.

"It must be weird," Ana continues, as your attention turns from her sister to her. "To see a celebrity walk into your little café."

"It's actually not so little," Carlos says. "It's pretty well-known in Madrid. Lots of customers."

"Never been," Blanca says curtly.

Carlos's mother gestures for her daughters to follow her, and the three women disappear in the kitchen before returning a few minutes later with their hands full of various dishes.

"Carlos told us you love to eat," his mother continues, giving you a genuine smile. "It's good that he didn't choose a very slender girl, for once," she adds, as you tilt your head. Was that supposed to be a compliment?

"What are your plans after the café?" Carlos' father asks, chewing on a piece of chicken. "Now that this first project has worked out?"

"I beg your pardon?" you ask, genuinely confused.

"What are you going to do with your life now?" Ana asks.

"Well... I'm going to keep running the café? It's my sanctuary, my biggest project. I'm so proud of it, I'm not going to give it all up now."

"Oh," his father replies, eyeing you. "I'd understood it was temporary. That you were a kind of investor."

"No," you reply, feeling your cheeks heat up again. "That's... That's what I do."

The silence falls over the table, punctuated by the clinking of utensils. After a short while, Carlos's mother clears her throat, meeting your gaze.

"Forgive our questions. We're curious to get to know the person Carlos shares his life with. You have to understand, after seven years... You always know what you've lost, but you can never know what you've gained."

"And that was quite a loss," Blanca chimes in, sipping on her wine.

"You can't trust anyone these days. You never know if they love you for you or for your wallet," Ana states, looking at her perfectly manicured nails.

"Or your contact list," Blanca adds, shooting a glance your way.

"Okay," Carlos suddenly says, throwing his napkin on the table before getting up. "That's enough. We're leaving."

"What?" you say, looking up at him.

"They're clearly not ready for this. We'll come back when they finally understand that my ex is just that - my ex. Get your things, love."

You stand up, feeling your legs tremble, as Carlos' hand find the small of your back, pushing you towards the hallway.

"Don't be ridiculous," his mother says, standing up as well. "You can't expect us to forget seven years just like that."

"I'm not asking you to forget. I'm asking you to respect my partner. But apparently, that's too difficult."

A few seconds later, Carlos is backing out of his parents' driveway, one arm around your seat, his gaze fixed on the rear window. In the passenger seat, you fidget with your fingers, staring at your hands and biting your lip nervously. His brows are furrowed. Jaw clenched. None of you exchange a word until you hit the main road, headlights from passing cars casting shadows on your faces.

"I'm so sorry," he finally says, stroking your thigh. "If I had known..."

"You couldn't," you reply, placing your hand on his. "I don't blame them. Seven years is no small thing."

Turning his head, his gaze meets yours.

"I won't pretend that those seven years didn't matter to me, that they meant nothing. Even though I don't have any romantic feelings for her anymore, she will always be a part of me in some way," he says, as you feel your heart tighten in your chest. "But she no longer occupies my thoughts. She's no longer imprinted under my eyelids. It's not her fingers that give me chills, her voice that makes my heart race. All day long, I think about you. I talk about you. Even at night, I dream of you. You're right beside me, so close, and yet it's not enough. You still find a way to get closer, to flow through my veins, to infiltrate every breath, every heartbeat."

"Sometimes I wish I could see myself through your eyes. That girl sounds exceptional," you say, laughing as you wipe the tears from the corners of your eyes."

"She's quite something," he replies, eyes on the road. "I can't wait for them to realize."

After the disastrous first encounter with your in-laws, over six months pass before Carlos comes join you on the terrace of your shared hotel room in Jeddah, placing a coffee in front of you. Bending down to sit beside you, the pilot winces, a hand on his stomach.

"Are you okay?" you ask, running your hand through his hair.

"I feel so fucking sick," your boyfriend says, a painful grimace on his face.

"Shouldn't you see a doctor, babe?" you ask, stroking his arm. "You look awfully pale. And you haven't eaten since yesterday morning."

"I can't keep anything down," Carlos replies, throwing his head back before closing his eyes.

"Carlos Sainz Vázquez de Castro," you start, earning a small grin from your boyfriend.

"I just love when you call me that."

"There's no way you're getting in that car tomorrow," you insist.

You didn't think you'd be so right. Well, not to this extent. Hurrying through the corridors of the hospital, two large aluminum trays in each hand, you dodge doctors and nurses along the way, weaving through visitors until you reach the door marked with the number you're looking for. You knock on the door, slipping inside before turning around to close it behind you.

"I wasn't sure what you'd prefer, so I got both," you begin, still facing the door, handle in hand. "The paella was quite easy to find, but I admit I had to cross the entire city for..." your sentence dies in your throat when, turning around, your eyes meet those of your mother-in-law. Then your father-in-law's. And your two sisters-in-law, crowded in Carlos' small hospital room.

"Oh," you utter, eyes wide. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know you'd be there. I'll leave you alone," you start, turning around once again.

"No! Stay," Carlos' mother says, rising to take the trays from you.

"We're really happy to see you again," his father says, rising as well to embrace you. "Carlos was telling us how well you took care of him. Thank you so much for being there."

"That's the least I could do," you reply, feeling intimidated. "He would have done the same for me."

"I may love you, but I'm not sure I would have slept in that armchair. Or changed your blood-soaked bandage," Carlos replies, eyes half-closed, still under the influence of anesthesia.

"You did what?" Blanca asks, turning to look at you, eyes wide.

"Well, his nurse was busy and it started leaking," you shrug.

"You slept here?" his father asks.

"They wouldn't let me at first, but I didn't feel like leaving him alone in a foreign hospital."

"She annoyed the staff so much they just gave up on throwing her out," your boyfriend lets out in a laugh.

"I didn't annoy anybody," you reply quickly, fearing what his family might think.

"You threatened an intern to tie yourself to the chair."

"I didn't do that," you half-laugh, shooting your boyfriend a warning look.

Seated on the side of Carlos' bed, bickering with your boyfriend while running your hand through his hair in a loving gesture, you don't see the glance exchanged between the Sainz family.

"We were thinking about something, before you arrived..." Ana begins, her eyes finding yours. For the first time, you're not met with her harsh, cold gaze, but with gentle eyes. "We have a family house in Mallorca. We thought it would be nice to all go there together, so Carlos can recover in peace. We would be very happy if you joined us."

"It'll be a chance for us to get to know you. And to apologize for our pathetic behavior last time."

"Carlos chose you," his mother starts, smiling warmly at you. "And we all understand why."

You could cry with happiness at the thought of finally being accepted, being welcomed into the family of the person you've shared your life with for almost a year now. At no longer being the new girl. The one after the love of his life.

At the though of maybe, simply being the one.

The real one, this time.

[sebscore]

couple of suggestions for leclerc!reader. 1. leclerc!reader gets hit by a car and it's not looking very good, but they make a full recovery. 2. Her brothers hear that their sister has a boyfriend and later learn that the guys she's seeing is f2 driver oliver bearman (or any one of the f2 boys).

A BOYFRIEND? | CHARLES LECLERC

pairings: charles leclerc x sister!reader / arthur leclerc x sister!reader / ollie bearman x leclerc!reader

warnings: this fic is situated somewhere in 2022 as arthur and ollie are teammates in this story.

author's note: thank you so much for the request, my darling! ollie isn't exactly her boyfriend in this, but they're not exactly friends either so i hope it's okay <3 let me know what you think of it!

• • • • • • •

It had been Arthur's idea to invite his family to his apartment in Italy, wanting to show off his newfound independence. Pascale, Charles and Y/N would spend a few days there before going back home to Monte Carlo. Lorenzo couldn't make it due to work obligations, but he would join them another time.

The youngest Leclerc was having a great time, apart from having to share a room with Charles as Arthur didn't have enough space for everyone to sleep individually.

It was mid day when the doorbell rang, confusing Arthur as he wasn't expecting anyone to come over. Charles and his mum were watching tv and his sister was doing whatever girls do alone in their room.

He opened the door and was surprised when he saw Ollie, his teammate. The pair had gotten along well ever since the young Brit had joined Prema and the Ferrari Driver Academy. Ollie isn't allowed to have a driver's license yet, so Arthur would often bring him to places around Maranello.

''Ollie! Hey, how are you?'' Arthur greeted him, a bit taken aback by the sudden appearance. His teammate nervously smiled. ''I'm good, mate! You?''

''Me too, thanks,'' the Monégasque noticed Ollie wasn't wearing his usual Ferrari shirt and had replaced it with a black hoodie, ''so, uh, is everything alright? I don't think we made plans or anything?'' Arthur hoped he hadn't forgotten anything important.

''Oh, uh, I'm actually here for-''

''Ollie, darling, come on in!'' Pascale interrupted the youngster, appearing from behind Arthur and urging him to enter the apartment. Arthur's confusion grew with each second passing, but he moved to the side to let Ollie in.

Charles stood up from the couch as their new guest walked in, just as puzzled as his little brother. He approached the Brit and shook his hand. ''Hi, I'm Charles. Nice to see you.''

''Nice to meet you, I'm Ollie.'' He quickly responded, hoping his sweaty palms didn't bother the Ferrari driver too much.

''Ollie, you want something to drink?'' Pascale offered him, pointing her finger in the direction of the kitchen. ''Oh, I'm alright, but thank you.'' He politely declined.

''Arthur, go and see if your sister's ready yet.''

''Ready for what?''

''Just go check on her.'' Pascale lightly pushed him to his guest room where his sister resided.

He gave everyone a weird glance, but he listened to his mother's orders nevertheless. Arthur walked quickly as he wanted to get answers as fast as possible since the reason for Ollie's appearance at his house was still a mystery.

He knocked on the door, waiting for his sister to give her consent to let him in. ''Who is it?'' He heard her question.

''Arthur.''

''Go away.''

Just like always, he ignored his sister's words and walked into the room anyway. She was spraying some perfume as she saw her brother enter, making her roll her eyes. ''I said go away.''

''Mum asked me to check if you were ready yet,'' he explained his presence, observing his sister as she paced around the room, ''wait- did you put on makeup?'' Arthur frowned, her face looked a bit different than usual.

''Yeah, so?'' Y/N bit back, not in the mood to be teased.

Arthur shrugged his shoulders. ''You want to look pretty for someone?'' Despite noticing his sister wasn't in a joking mood, he opted to tease her anyway.

''What's wrong with you?'' She groaned.

''What's wrong with you, blabla…'' Arthur repeated her words, copying her tone in an overdramatized way.

''Maman!'' Y/N yelled, receiving a push from her older brother. ''Okay, sorry!'' He didn't want their mother to come all the way down there.

It was as if seeing his sister all dolled up switched a gear in his head, it made everything clear. ''Hold on- Ollie is here… you're wearing makeup… mum asked me to see if you were ready… you're not going on a date with him are you?''

''That single brain cell of yours is doing a lot of work right now, Thur.'' Y/N grabbed her handbag and walked out of the guest room, Arthur closely following her.

Ollie had set himself down on one of the chairs as Pascale kept insisting he made himself comfortable, but as soon as the Leclerc girl walked into the room, he stood up. ''Hey, Y/N.''

''Hi, Ollie.'' She blushed, the Brit having an effect on her that made the young girl all giddy inside.

''Alright, have fun you two,'' Pascale motioned for the pair to get going, ''be smart.'' She kissed Y/N's cheek, bidding her daughter goodbye.

''I know, bye.''

She waited until they were out of the door before returning to the living room, where she found her two sons still standing in the same place as earlier. ''Everything okay?''

''When were you gonna tell us our sister has a boyfriend?'' Charles asked, offended that their mother would keep such information to herself and not share it with them. ''And that it's my teammate?'' Arthur added, pointing at himself.

Pascale chuckled, amused by their cluelessness. ''Ollie is not her boyfriend, but they've been on a few dates with each other and she's been really enjoying it.'' She explained to them, a genuine smile on her face.

''She's only 17 years-old, she can't have a boyfriend.'' Arthur argued, cringing as the words left his mouth. ''Okay, she can have a boyfriend, but why does it have to be him?'' He quickly changed his mind.

''What's wrong with Ollie? He's a nice young man and his parents are very good people.'' Their mother defended the Brit, confused as to why Arthur didn't want him as his sister's boyfriend.

Arthur sighed. ''Cause I race against him! What if they get together and then they break up or something? He might push me off the track! Or what if he hurts her? Then I'll kill him on the track.'' The man clarified his disdain for Ollie dating his younger sister.

''You're not killing anyone on track, okay? They're just going on dates, you're overthinking everything.'' Charles calmed him down. He wasn't too keen on his baby sister dating a driver, but he wasn't thinking like Arthur.

''I'm more offended that she didn't tell me anything, how long has this been going on?'' Charles continued, glancing at his mum.

Pascale thought for a few moments. ''A few months, with his racing and her school they can't meet that often.'' She answered.

''MONTHS?!'' Both of the Leclerc brothers chorused, absolutely shocked this wasn't something recent. ''What do you mean months? You're telling me this guy has been trying to get into my sister's pants for months and I didn't know about it?'' Arthur said, flabbergasted.

Pascale scoldingly hit his arm. ''Keep that language to yourself, Arthur! Y/N asked me to not tell anyone until she knew it was a bit more serious between them,'' she told the two of them, ''I don't want any of that negative energy around her, okay? She's always been supportive of whoever you two are dating and you're gonna do the same for her, understand?'' Pascale held a stern look on her face.

Their mother's scolding brought them back to earth. She was right, whether they liked their sister dating a driver or not, they had to support her, just like she has been supporting them.

''You're right, mum. We're gonna be supportive.'' Charles confirmed to her, giving her a hug. They both glimpsed at Arthur, who sighed but eventually joined their embrace. ''Okay, but if he breaks her heart, I'll just lightly touch him with my car.''

Y/N arrived home hours later, right in time for dinner. Both Arthur and Charles weren't home as they were called in to go to the Scuderia Ferrari home for either some meetings or simulation work. It was late in the night when they arrived home.

She was already falling asleep when Charles came into their shared room, trying not to make too much noise, but failing. ''Charles, be quiet.'' She mumbled, her pillow covering a bit of her mouth.

''Sorry, Chérie,'' he apologized, laying down on his mattress that was spread on the floor, ''how, uh, was your date with Ollie? I saw him working out in the gym.'' He asked, curiously.

Y/N had started to doze off again, but his question woke her up a little. ''We walked around Maranello and we got something to eat, and-''

''Did he pay?'' Charles interrupted.

''Yes, he paid.''

''Good.''

''Anyway- it was really nice and we talked a lot, so, uh, I had a great time.'' She finished her answer, closing her eyes again.

Charles simply hummed, trying to find the right words to say. ''That's good to hear, you think that it's getting serious between you two? That it's going somewhere?''

''Maybe, he's a really great person and I like hanging out with him, so I hope it's going somewhere.'' She truthfully replied, feeling weird about saying all of this to her older brother.

He nodded. ''Do you wa-''

''Perceval, I want to sleep.''

''Oh, okay! Goodnight, I love you.''

''...''

''...''

''I love you too.''

''...''

[wosomaanum]

Just In Time | Frida Maanum

Summary: You and Frida decide to go to a party where not everything goes to plan

Warnings: creepy people, homophobia, alcohol, party things yk

You and Frida are getting ready in your shared apartment, the scent of her favorite vanilla body spray mingling with the faint sound of indie music playing in the background. Frida stands in front of the mirror, adjusting her earrings, while you fuss with the shirt. She catches your eye in the reflection, offering a reassuring smile.

"Ready to go?" she asks, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

"Yeah, let's do this," you reply, taking her hand as you head out the door.

The walk to the party is filled with light conversation and laughter, Frida's presence always a source of comfort and joy. When you arrive, the house is already buzzing with energy, music pumping through the walls, and groups of people scattered around, talking and dancing.

“Wow, it’s crowded in here.” You state, a hint of uncertainty present in your voice.

“It is. Just stay close yeah?” Frida replies, her thick Norwegian accent peaking through.

“Don’t worry, nothings going to happen.” You reply, you weren’t sure if you were trying to reassure Frida or yourself.

“Darling, I know you can handle yourself. I’d much rather be safe than sorry. Just let me know roughly where you’re gonna go and remember: you have a phone for a reason.” She stays, matter of factly.

“Right. I’m just gonna go to the toilet then alright? Love you.” You kiss Frida on the cheek offering her a smile to what she exchanges cutely.

On your way to the bathroom, you decide to take a look in the kitchen to scout out the drinks. You were by no means a drinker but you knew Frida was the designated driver. Which meant two things:

1. You could get tipsy

2. You could only get tipsy. Not flat out drunk. Or Frida would be on your back.

The kitchen is packed, but you manage to find a spot near the counter. As you pour yourself a drink (okay, just a quick one), a guy you don’t recognise sidles up next to you. He's taller than you, with an overly confident smirk plastered on his face.

"Hey there," he says, leaning in a bit too close for comfort. "I haven't seen you around here before. Can I get you another drink?"

"No, thanks. I'm good," you reply, trying to keep your tone polite but firm. You were already feeling tipsy by now as you had spontaneously chugged down two solo cups worth. You knew Frida would be scolding you later - but that didn’t matter right now.

He doesn't take the hint, instead stepping even closer. "Come on, just one drink. What's the harm?"

You glance around, hoping to spot Frida, but she's still across the room, chatting with some friends. "I said no, thanks," you repeat, more forcefully this time.

The guy's smirk fades slightly, but he doesn't back off. "Don't be like that. I'm just trying to be friendly."

You try to step away, but he blocks your path, his presence becoming more oppressive. "Seriously, I don't want a drink," you say, louder this time, hoping someone nearby will notice.

His eyes narrow slightly, and he leans in even closer, his breath hot on your ear. "Why are you being such a prude? I'm just being nice."

Panic starts to bubble up inside you, your heart racing as you try to push him away. "Leave me alone," you demand, your voice trembling.

He chuckles, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Relax, I'm not going to bite. Just trying to have a conversation. What's your name?"

You take a step back, trying to put some distance between you. "It's none of your business," you snap, hoping to sound more confident than you feel.

He rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed. "No need to be so rude. I'm just asking a simple question."

"Look, I'm here with someone," you say, trying a different tactic. "I'm not interested."

"Oh, come on," he says, his tone turning condescending. "Whoever it is, they can't be that great if they left you alone. Just one drink, and if you still want me to leave, I will."

You shake your head, backing up further. "I already told you, I'm not interested. Please, just leave me alone. And don’t insult my girlfriend.”

His expression darkens, and he steps forward again, ignoring your plea. "You know, you're making this a lot harder than it needs to be."

"I don't care," you snap, louder this time, hoping the raised volume will attract someone's attention. "I said no. Now back off."

He laughs, a harsh, mocking sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "Feisty, I like that. Come on, just one drink. It's not going to kill you."

Desperation starts to creep in as you look around the room, searching for a familiar face. "I'm not interested," you repeat, your voice shaking with anger and fear. "Why can't you just take no for an answer?"

"Because I'm not used to hearing it," he replies smugly. "You're not going to find anyone better than me here, so why not just give it a shot?"

You glance around again, feeling trapped. "Look, you're making me really uncomfortable. Please, just go away."

"Uncomfortable?" he scoffs. "I'm just talking to you. You don't have to be so dramatic."

"I'm not interested because I'm here with my girlfriend," you say, hoping that will make him back off.

His expression changes, a sneer spreading across his face. "Oh, so you're one of those. That explains a lot."

"Did I not already tell you that? And, What do you mean by that?" you ask, feeling a surge of anger mix with your fear.

"Just that it makes sense why you're so uptight," he says, leaning in closer again. "Trying to play the victim, huh? You think you're too good for a guy like me because you like girls?"

"That's none of your business," you say firmly, trying to keep your voice steady. "Just leave me alone."

"Come on, don't be like that," he says, his voice dripping with condescension. "Maybe you just haven't been with the right guy yet."

"Back off," you say, louder now, hoping someone will notice and intervene.

"What's going on here?" Frida's voice cuts through the tension, her tone calm but authoritative. She walks up, her eyes immediately assessing the situation. Sliding her arm around your waist, she fixes the guy with a steady gaze. "Is there a problem?"

The guy looks between the two of you, clearly irritated. "We were just talking," he says, attempting to brush off the situation.

Frida tightens her hold on you, her eyes not leaving his. "It didn't look like she wanted to talk," she says calmly but firmly. "She told you to leave her alone."

"Mind your own business," he snaps, his bravado faltering slightly under Frida's intense gaze.

Frida maintains her calm demeanor, her voice unwavering. "She is my business. If she asked you to leave her alone, you should respect that."

He hesitates, clearly not used to being challenged. "Look, I'm not trying to start anything. Just having a conversation," he says, his tone trying to sound reasonable but failing.

Frida's expression softens slightly as she addresses him again. "Look, she clearly doesn't want to continue this conversation. Let's all just move on and enjoy the party, okay?"

"Whatever," he mutters, but he doesn't move.

Frida remains calm, her grip on you firm but gentle. "Did you not hear her? She's not interested. Leave us alone."

The guy's face flushes with anger and embarrassment. "I just don't get you people," he says, his voice rising. "Always playing the victim card. Maybe if you weren't such prudes, you'd see how stupid this all is."

"Excuse me?" Frida's voice remains calm, but there's an edge to it now. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me," he snaps, his bravado returning. "You lesbians always think everyone's out to get you. Maybe if you tried being normal for once, you wouldn't have these problems."

Frida takes a deep breath, her eyes never leaving his. "We're not the problem here. You are. We're here to have a good time, just like everyone else. If you can't handle that, maybe you should leave."

"Oh, I'm the problem now?" he scoffs. "You two are just asking for trouble, flaunting your lifestyle in everyone's faces."

"Enough," Frida says, her voice firm but controlled. "This conversation is over. Leave us alone."

He glares at both of you, clearly frustrated. "Fine, whatever. You're not worth the trouble." He turns and stalks off into the crowd, disappearing from view.

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding and turn to Frida, who is watching you with concern.

"You okay?" she asks, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"Yeah, thanks. He just wouldn't take a hint," you reply, leaning into her touch.

"I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to deal with that and I’m sorry I didn’t get to you quicker. Let's get out of here," Frida suggests softly. "This place is too crowded anyway and you need to get home before it’s dark."

You nod, grateful for her suggestion. She keeps an arm around you as you both navigate through the throng of people and out into the cooler night air. The drive home is quieter, but Frida's presence beside you is as comforting as ever.

When you reach your apartment, she unlocks the door and lets you in first, her protective instincts still in high gear. Inside, you kick off your shoes and collapse onto the couch, feeling the tension of the evening finally start to fade.

Frida sits next to you, her hand resting on your knee. "You sure you're okay?" she asks again, her eyes searching yours.

"I'm fine now," you assure her, taking her hand in yours. "Thanks for stepping in. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't."

"Anytime," she says with a soft smile. "You know I've got your back."

You lean against her, feeling safe and loved. The party might not have been what you expected, but having Frida by your side makes everything better.

“I can’t believe he said all that. I know I was tipsy but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out his intentions, in fact I think the ‘prude’ may have done it.”

“It’s best not to think about it hey. He was a total dickhead but I’m just glad your safe that’s the most important thing. Let’s just calm down now and we can talk more in the morning if need be. I’m here for you, you know that.”

The rest of the evening is spent in the comfort of your apartment, wrapped up in each other. Frida makes sure you're okay, periodically checking in with gentle touches and reassuring words. She walks you through your feelings, letting you vent about the guy and how he made you feel, always listening intently.

As the night grows later, she suggests you both watch a movie to distract from the earlier ordeal. You agree, and soon you're cuddled up on the couch, the soft glow of the TV casting a warm light over the room. Frida holds you close, her arms wrapped around you.

————-

You wake up the next morning encased by Frida’s strong arms. You both stir awake.

“You know, now that you are feeling better, I think we better discuss you downing two vodkas eh?”

[the-boy-meets-evil]

with the band | ksy

pairing: drummer!soonyoung x journalist!f!reader genre: 70s!au, band!au, fluff, smut, tiny bit of angstsummary: you’re fresh out of college with big dreams about changing the world with your words on a page. The last thing you expect is to end up covering a tour and you certainly don’t expect to fight falling for the drummer. rating: explicit, minors dni word count: ~8.2k (i literally don't know, don't @ me, it was supposed to be short) warnings: brief mention of drinking, brief mention of assumed infidelity (not actual), reader mentions difficulties of male dominated profession and being a woman, 1 mention of drinking, explicit smut: kissing, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do this), multiple orgasms, oral sex (f. receiving), briefest handjob/blowjob, reader is a little obsessed with hoshi's arms, hoshi picks reader up 1 time, idk i think that's it

a/n: this is for @svthub's 70s;teen collab and i'm so thankful that i got to take part in it. make sure you check out all the other amazing fics here! also a massive thank you to my bby indi @classicscreations for another last minute banner with minimal info from me. ily. (this is unbeta'd because i finished it late sorry!)

When you went to school, you had all these big dreams. It’s easier for women to get an education now, universities that had been single sex are going co-ed, and women are allowed to have ideas. You feel excited about your future. You’re going to change the world. At least, that’s what you think.

Before you know it, graduation is around the corner and it’s time to try to find a job with your journalism degree. While you’ve become a standout contributor at your school paper, this is entirely different. Your big dreams start to feel a little deflated. Sure, you can get a job at a big newspaper, like you’ve always wanted, you just have to be fine with being the assistant to someone else. Getting their coffee and lunch orders, handling their schedule, fetching dry cleaning. And it’s not that you mind paying your dues, you don’t. You know that you’re going to have to work your ass off just to get that chance. But you’re not sure you can take the chance of getting boxed into being someone’s assistant. Close enough to get a hint of the story while never actually writing it yourself.

As you’re about to take one of the positions you’re so opposed to, you happen to get to know someone from the infamous Rolling Stone magazine. It’s not really your style, the whole sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll scene. You don’t feel like you know more than the average person when it comes to music. Music is great, you like it, and you’ve covered the occasional show for your school paper. It’s just not where you feel comfortable. However, as your new contact points out, they’re more than music. They’re culture and politics and just the heartbeat of the country. So, okay, why not take a shot? The worst that happens is they say no and you still have the papers to fall back on.

You don’t need to fall back. They like your writing at Rolling Stone, like your perspective. They like your honesty most of all, that sticks out. Someone tells you that they can tell exactly what you think about something and it’s exactly what they’re looking for. Maybe later, you’ll look back and wonder if this was really the right fit. If you knew what you were getting into. All you can do when you get the offer is say yes. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime, you tell yourself, to actually get to say something right away. Who cares what you’re talking about? If there’s one thing you know how to do, it’s form an opinion. 

Several months into the job, you actually like it a lot more than you expected you would. Yeah, there’s a lot of partying, a lot of drinking, a lot of other things you’re not going to mention. But, the world is changing and you want to be there for it. 

As much as you initially expected to join Rolling Stone for the culture and political pieces, you’ve written just as many pieces about music. There’s a human element to it that draws you in, a commentary on the artists and what they’re trying to say. You don’t think twice when your boss assigns you to cover a show in the area. A big group is headlining, something you know will draw everyone out, but your boss wants you to pay attention to the other acts. Find out if there’s a story.

You’re somewhere in an open staff room before the show, taking time to catch up with people you know through work, through other shows, just from being around the area. It’s there that you hear the commotion outside the room. It sounds like a group of girls reacting to someone, probably one of the musicians. Seconds later, the musician in question opens the door, smiling softly over his shoulder and calling out a string of thank yous before heading around the corner.

It’s familiar with the shows you’ve covered. He’s hiding out from the fans that hang around and try to get closer to them. Some of them are familiar with the staff, both for the groups and the venues, though, and they come and go as they please. He seems to realize this and rushes over to your table, sits down in an empty seat and tries to look like he belongs.

“What’s the low down?” he asks without preamble. 

You’re caught off guard for a lot of reasons. The first is that you have no idea who this man, with his short hair and denim shirt actually is. He looks like a musician, probably could be a member of one of the other, smaller groups playing tonight. He seems like he’s probably in his mid-20s. But you don’t know him. The second reason is that you’re not really sure what he’s asking.

“With what?” you finally ask.

“The group of girls hanging around outside,” he supplies. Of course.

“This your first show or something?” you ask.

“Not exactly,” he says. “I mostly did studio work until I replaced the guy before me in Moonwalker. They needed a new drummer.”

“I’m sure you had plenty of girls hanging around the studio,” you say. 

“Including you?” he wonders. “I’m Soonyoung, by the way.”

You give him your name in return. “And no, I write for Rolling Stone.”

That catches his interest in the way it always does with musicians. They all want to be in the magazine, want to know they’ve made it. Just as many want to make sure whatever’s published about them is positive, paints them in a good light. It’s why your boss has always stressed to remember the musicians aren’t your friends. That’s never been an issue for you, so you’ll continue to chat with Soonyoung. Try to see if his band might be the one you pitch to your boss. 

He wants to keep talking, you can tell, but a man that looks like a manager pops his head into the room. Once his eyes land on Soonyoung, he’s calling him away. The rest of the band is going over something pre-show and they need him. Soonyoung looks back at you.

“Catch ya later?” Soonyoung asks it as a question instead of making it a statement.

“Maybe,” you answer, noncommittal. 

The next day at work you fill your boss in about the show and pitch Moonwalker for a feature. They’re young and hungry, saying a lot with their music, and there were almost as many fans there to see them as there were to see the headliner. Culturally and musically, they’re relevant. If you can get the jump on this story, you might even be able to beat out the competition. Which is always a gamble. You don’t have some magic 8 ball telling you if these guys are the real deal. 

After your boss loops in a couple of the big music guys at the magazine, he agrees that you can try to get the story. If the band will let you go to the next several stops, and actually answer your questions, your boss will sign off on it. Well, you have to stay on top of your other assignments too, but you assure him that won’t be an issue. 

Three days later you’re headed to your first stop on the tour. Their manager had initially been skeptical, but called back a few hours after the pitch. Apparently Soonyoung had asked if it would be you doing the story, said you seemed cool, and the rest of the band was eager for the exposure. So you packed your bags and got on the next bus out to meet them on their tour. From there, you would be traveling with the band. That had also come with the warning from your boss and colleagues, a reminder that the guys in the band weren’t your friends and the women who traveled with them were even less so. Not that it was news to you. 

(And not that you’re thinking about the phone call you got after work that night.

“Hello?” You’re balancing the phone against your ear as you sort through some recent mail.

“Hey! This is Soonyoung!” comes a cheery voice on the other end.

“Oh, uh, hi,” you say. “How did you get my number?”

“My manager called the magazine for a couple last minute questions and they gave him this number,” Soonyoung answers.

You’re wondering why your boss, always worrying about keeping those lines firmly in place, gave out your personal number. But that’s an issue for another day. 

“So you’re hitting the road,” Soonyoung carries on. “You must’ve been into our sound.”

“You’re different and the crowd seemed to dig it,” you say.

“Can’t wait to catch you on the trail,” Soonyoung finishes.)

The band is funny to be around, you think. It’s a little like herding children at times, even though they’re a few years older than you. But their attention is constantly somewhere and rarely on the question you’re asking. Which should be frustrating, except that Soonyoung is always looking over at you with an apology in his eyes. Always filling in every answer that he can with this band he’s gotten used to at light speed. 

You do get your answers, though. Answers about everything from how the band got together to where they see themselves going to what they think about where the country is headed. In between the booze and the women and the drugs, you’re able to piece together who this group actually is and what they’re about. The more you learn, the more you want to learn. The more you relate to the things they’re saying. For the first time in your career, you’re actually wondering if you can capture the energy of this band when you put it to paper. Can you capture the way they vibe together? Can you capture the way the singer mesmerizes an entire crowd? Can you capture the way Soonyoung goes from smiling and happy to laser focused on stage? There’s magic in seeing them perform live.

There’s also the small matter of getting too close to them. Or to one of them in particular. From the beginning you knew that Soonyoung would be a problem. He’s too loud and he’s not all that smooth, but there’s a real tenderness to him. There’s a softness to his approach that you weren’t quite expecting. The first time he invites you to hang out with the band after a show, you ignore it. It’s easy. You’re thinking of the advice from your boss and your coworkers. The second and third times are easy too. Well, easy enough. You say no and go back to your room to work on notes for the story.

Except, that’s when it changes. You get on the phone with your boss, tell me how much bigger the story is becoming than you ever anticipated. There’s so much more than just the band, from the backgrounds of the members, to the lyrics of their songs, to where they see themselves heading. Three members, including Soonyoung, are the children of immigrants in this country. Where you expect push back from your boss, instead you’re met with agreement. Stay on the road, you’ve been on top of your assignments. He’ll give you more words for the piece you’re writing. Just carry on, he loves all the notes and ideas he’s seen so far. 

It’s exactly what you’re hoping for and yet there’s still a feeling in the pit of your stomach like things are about to change. Not because this is a big article, though it is. You’ve never been given more than a thousand words and you have three thousand now. It’s more than just a chance. Yet you’re still unsettled about something. 

It’s another day. Another set of pre-show questions, a depth to each band members’ background, an insight in the process of writing songs, even a little bit of a look into why each of them got into music in the first place. The leader of the band and the manager are more reserved, concerned with how the group will come across when you write this article. They’re always asking what you’ll say or if they can see the article before it comes out. 

Your answer is always the same: no. But, you assure them that you’re not in this to ruin their careers. What would be the point? Who would want to answer your questions moving forward? You just want to paint an honest picture of what they’re like and what they’re about. 

Post show is the same song and dance as always. Soonyoung asks for you to come by their routine after-party. You see the way some of the other hangers-on watch for your answer, seem annoyed that he’s asking yet again when you’ve said no every other time. You say no, like every other time, and watch the smiles that form instantly on the faces of those who drag Soonyoung off. His eyes stay on you even after you turn around to head to your room. 

That’s where the similarities stop. You’re reading over your notes at the desk in your dingy hotel room. It’s far too late and the lighting is awful, but you want to make sure you get it all down before you forget. You also want to test out a few sentences or even passages to send back to your boss. The article really has taken shape in your head and you’re excited to actually write it.

A knock at the door pulls you from your thoughts about word choice. You figure it’s probably just some drunk person looking for the band and getting the room wrong. Or looking for friends after the show. It’s not like that would be the first time. So you don’t consider that you’re not really dressed for company.

“Hey,” from a voice that’s entirely too familiar. 

There’s a moment when you’re both just looking at each other. You’re trying to figure out what he’s doing here and why he doesn’t seem drunk. He’s taking in your open bathroom over your nightgown. After another moment, you pull the bathrobe closed, definitely too late by the smirk playing on Soonyoung’s mouth. 

“Uh, what are you doing here?” you ask after clearing your throat.

“I wanted to see what was so important that kept you from hanging with us,” Soonyoung answers. “‘M I interrupting something?” 

“Yes, actually,” you say before you can think better.

“Really?” he challenges.

“I was writing,” you rush out. “I don’t have my typewriter here but I’ve been putting passages together.”

“And that couldn’t wait til morning to hang out with us? See what we’re like outside of the venue?” Soonyoung presses.

“I’ve seen you outside the venues,” you argue. “And it’s not that it’s keeping me from hanging out with you.”

“Then what is?” he asks. 

“We’re not friends, Soonyoung, and you’ve got plenty of people to keep you distracted,” you offer with an eye roll.

“They’re not that distracting…or entertaining,” he says and you actually laugh. 

“They’ll be heartbroken,” you muse.

“Let me come in for a drink,” Soonyoung presses. “It’s rude to leave company in the hall.”

“I don’t have anything to drink,” you say, almost regretful.

“I do,” Soonyoung says, holding up a six pack.

This is dumb, a terrible idea. It’s exactly what your boss warned you about. But you step to the side anyway and let Soonyoung walk around you. With a look down the hallway to confirm nobody saw him, you close the door.  

“What are you doing here, really?” you ask.

Soonyoung settles on the edge of the bed and opens one of the beers. He holds one out to you and you take it. He’s already inside the room, might as well appreciate something free to drink.

“I don’t know, I like being around you. There’s more to you than most of the people that hang around the band,” Soonyoung says.

“That’s because I’m not just hanging around the band. I’m here working,” you reason.

“And that means you can’t have fun?” Soonyoung wonders.

“I am having fun,” you disagree. 

“You know what I mean,” he says, not letting you get away with it. You hesitate, unsure where to go from here. “You don’t have to tell me, but I’m interested in you. I want to actually know you in the way you’re getting to know us. I’m laying myself bare and you don’t have to do the same, I just want to know you.”

Which is fair, isn’t it? Of all the band members, Soonyoung has been the most open, the most honest about who he is, what he’s about, and where he wants to go. So you make the decision you probably always were going to make. You sit down on the bed next to him, instead of leaving space by sitting in the chair, and you start to tell him who you are. Nothing feels off limits from your struggles in a male-dominated field to your family life to your past relationships. To his credit, he’s a good listener. His face is so expressive and open that you find yourself saying more than you have to anyone in ages. 

As you continue to talk, your beers sit largely untouched. Soonyoung’s taken a few sips, but mostly his eyes have been focused on you, like he’s looking for the things your face is saying that your words aren’t. Somewhere it progresses from you talking about who you are to the two of you talking about anything that comes up. It’s not a level of comfort you were ever expecting to feel in a place like this. It’s also really difficult to remember what your boss said.

“So we’re not friends, huh?” Soonyoung asks during a lull.

“Oh, well…” you stutter.

He laughs. “Luckily I’m not so easily scared off.”

“It’s just, my boss…well he warned me not to get too close to you,” you admit.

“Me specifically?” Soonyoung asks.

“No, the band as a whole,” you answer without meeting his eyes. 

You start when Soonyoung’s finger lifts your chin up to meet his eyes. It’s hard to meet them when you feel like he sees through you. “I think you seem smart enough to make that call for yourself, don’t you?” 

All you can do is nod. That seems to make him happy. You feel more exposed though, more raw. Even more so when you remember that you’re only in your nightgown and bathrobe. Without even realizing it, you pull the bathrobe closed again.

“Do you want me to go?” Soonyoung’s voice is quiet, not a whisper but deep with something else. The entire mood shifts. 

You shake your head immediately. This time it’s not enough.

“I need to hear you,” he says.

“No, Soonyoung, I don’t want you to go,” you say quietly. 

His fingers are on your chin again, soft enough that you could pull away if you wanted to. Which you don’t. His voice is still low, thick with something you now realize is desire. It’s the same feeling you got when you extended your trip following Moonwalker on the road. And it’s definitely trouble. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, voice gentle like he has to be careful with you. 

You nod again before considering if he needs to hear you. He doesn’t. Not this time. His lips meet yours gently, so soft like he’s not really sure it’s happening. Like he’s worried this is all a dream. You’re kind of worried about that too, but you’re not sure if it would be better that way. If this should all just be something you’re dreaming up instead of something that’s actually happening. 

It’s not enough, you open your mouth and he takes it as an invitation almost immediately. The kiss deepens, becomes a little more insistent and a little more desperate. He’s testing the waters at the same time. One hand rests on your bare thigh and the other slides up your neck into your hair, anchoring you to his mouth. You gasp a bit at the firmness. It’s a different side to him than you’ve seen. Well, except when he’s on stage. He’s just as focused then as he is now. 

But it’s not quite enough and you’re not really sure what makes you adjust. You’ve never really been someone to be forward, not like this. So you’re not really sure why you readjust to straddle his lap. Not that he’s complaining. His groan is low, from the back of his throat, as you settle on top of him. For a moment, you’re aware that you’re still just in your nightgown. 

Until Soonyoung’s hands run along the bare skin of your thighs and you shiver under his touch. Until his fingers dig into your skin, just hard enough to anchor you but not so hard it’ll leave marks. Until your own fingers find their purchase in Soonyoung’s hair, shorter than you’re used to on men, yet perfect for him. You’re not used to straddling someone like this either, so you try not to move too much. Except when you need to adjust because your knees aren’t comfortable as they’re digging into the mattress. That single movement drags your core across his lap and pulls a deep groan from him. You can feel him hardening when he jerks his hips up into you.

Soonyoung moves one hand up your back, underneath the nightgown so his fingers are on your skin. His other hand holds the back of your head so you can’t stop kissing him. Then he’s leaning back onto the bed, bringing you with him so that now you’re on top of him. You feel a little out of your element like this, not entirely used to being the one in control. Even if the control is an illusion and it really rests with Soonyoung. It’s like he can sense that and wraps his strong arms around you to flip the two of you over. He breaks the kiss only for a moment as he’s hovering over to look down at you. You’re sure you blush under his attention, there’s so much affection. Then you’re kissing again. 

You know where this is heading, know and don’t want to stop it. His hips rut against your core more as the kisses continue to intensify and you want more. Need more than the friction with too much clothing between you. You’re about to pull his shirt off, have your fingers on the hem, when there’s a loud banging on the door. It startles you both from your little bubble. After a second, the banging starts again.

You reluctantly slide out from underneath Soonyoung to go look out the peephole. Something you did not do when he showed up. It’s one of his bandmates. You crack the door open and try to act like you’d been sleeping.

“Hey sorry, we’re looking for Soon, have you seen him?” he asks.

You pretend to yawn and shake your head. “Sorry, been sleeping.”

“Huh, well sorry,” he says and is gone before you can say anything else.

Soonyoung is behind you before the door even closes, wrapping his arms around you and holding you back against his chest. He presses a soft kiss behind your ear, gentle like his first kiss. 

“I should probably go before they come back,” he whispers against your skin.

“About what I said,” you begin, turning around in his arms to face him.

“S’okay, I get it,” he assures you. He places the gentlest kiss on your lips. “I know what you’re dealing with.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

“And maybe we’ll get to continue this,” Soonyoung offers. He sounds like he’s trying to be nonchalant, but his face gives away how badly he wants you to agree.

“God, yes, please,” you respond. You don’t care how you sound when his face lights up. That’s all you need.

The next day has you packing up and heading to the next city. Road days are actually some of your favorite because it’s just you with the people on the bus. It’s a much smaller group than at the venues or at the hotel afterwards. It also gives you a better glimpse into who Moonwalker are outside of the performances. You see how they interact, how they approach conversations, what they do to fill their time.

Of course, now, Soonyoung wants to be around you whenever he can. A fact entirely too obvious to some of the people on the bus. He accepts that you want to keep some amount of distance, doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. The two of you just kind of gravitate together anyway. Whether it’s sitting near each other on the bus or stopping at the same places for food when you stop. Most people seem to write it off as how he’s been with you the entire time. Most don’t realize that you’re seeking him out almost as much now. 

You get enough time without prying ears to let him know that you don’t want to distract him the night before a show. You also know how their manager can be, so you think it’s best for him to be in the bed that he’s supposed to be in. He pouts for a second but understands. You’re trying to keep at least the appearance of separation. 

The day of the next show finds you in the lobby waiting for some coffee and something to eat when a woman breezes in through the open doors. You hate to generalize, but she looks like a lot of the other women that hang around bands, except a little more confident. A little more sure of herself or her position. Maybe she’s someone’s girlfriend. You’re sure that whatever Moonwalker gets up to on the road, at least some of them are in relationships. Not Soonyoung, you’re sure he would’ve mentioned it. 

For some reason, the woman approaches you after speaking to someone at the desk. She’s glamorous up close, for lack of a better way to put it, but maybe not as confident as you’d initially thought.

“Is this where Moonwalker is staying?” she asks without preamble. 

“Uh, yeah,” you answer.

“Oh good, I’ve been looking for Soonyoung and I keep missing his stops,” she says with a smile.

Your stomach drops and you do everything you can not to let your face show how bothered you are. She’s looking for who?

“Soonyoung?” you ask. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to pick up on your distress.

“It’s an unusual name, I know, but he’s the drummer for Moonwalker,” she carries on.

“Uh, I haven’t seen him today,” you offer.

“I wasn’t expecting you had, you’re clearly not a groupie,” she says with a slightly sympathetic smile. You’re not really sure what to do with that. “But he’s staying here?”

“Yeah, they’re staying here,” you confirm. “Who are you?”

“Oh well I’m his…well it’s complicated, but we’re seeing each other,” she says.

“Right,” is all you can muster.

“Who are you?” she asks.

You give your name. “I write for Rolling Stone.”

“You’re a journalist?” She asks the question with all the surprise and disdain of someone that thinks only men can write.

“I am,” you confirm and stand up. “It’s been great speaking, I’m sure Soonyoung will be around soon. They haven’t left for the venue yet.”

You’re off before she can say anything else without coffee or the snack you’d been looking for. Before the tour, you never drank coffee in the afternoons because of the caffeine. Now, you’re staying up much later. 

Once you’re back in your room, you let yourself cry. For so many reasons. For breaking the rule and getting so close to Soonyoung. For allowing yourself to feel something for him. For being stupid enough to think he felt something for you too. For how hard it’s going to be to carry on with this story now that you know who he really is. For having to separate personal from professional. For all the things that could have been. 

You keep your distance from Soonyoung through the rest of the day and the show. He’s visibly confused when you make excuse after excuse to walk away or talk to someone else. But why should he be? Surely the woman ended up finding him after speaking to you and surely she’s waiting somewhere for him. Why should he keep bothering with you? 

It’s not until you’re back in your room post-show that you start to plan your next steps. You’re scheduled to join the band for at least 3 more shows. It’s what you and your boss agreed to. And it was fine, before everything happened with Soonyoung. Could you find a way to convince your boss that you do actually have enough for the article and it’s time to come home? Maybe. You’ll have to start thinking of good reasons.

It’s during this inner monologue that you hear a quiet knock at the door. You know who it’s going to be before you even open the door. Soonyoung stands on the other side looking much more subdued than normal. He looks sad, maybe even hurt.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

His voice sounds just as sad as he looks, which causes anger to flare in you for a moment. What reason does he have to be hurt? But you step aside anyway because this isn’t a conversation to have in the doorway where anyone could overhear.

“What is it?” you ask once you’re both inside. He sits on the edge of your bed and you take the chair at the desk.

“What’s wrong?” he asks in response.

“What do you mean what’s wrong?” you ask louder than you intended.

“Everything was good and we were on the same page, what changed?” Soonyoung asks.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe you having a girlfriend? I met her in the lobby this afternoon, she was looking for you,” you fire back. 

Soonyoung goes quiet. Not like he’s been caught, like he’s confused. Like he doesn’t know what you mean. Then his face changes into one of annoyance. “Do you mean Mary?”

“I’m not sure, Soonyoung, how many girlfriends do you have?” you ask, irritated.

“None,” he insists and then describes the woman from earlier.

“Sounds right, she didn’t mention her name,” you agree. 

Soonyoung huffs out an overly annoyed sigh. “That’s not my girlfriend and again, I do not have a girlfriend…”

“Girlfriend, friend, groupie, whatever,” you dismiss. “I’m not interested in the drama.”

“Neither am I,” Soonyoung insists. You want to believe him. His face is so kind, so honest. But this is why you don’t get involved with the band.

“I want to believe you,” you start.

“Then believe me,” Soonyoung pleads. “Mary used to hang around at the studio I worked at before coming on this tour. I was nice to her, we chatted a couple times, but I never even got her number. I never even went out with her or kissed her or anything. I have no idea why she showed up here.”

“You promise?” you ask. 

Soonyoung is off the bed and coming to kneel before you in a single move. He takes your hands in his, so still and serious. Like nothing else matters. 

“I promise you, there is nothing going on there. The only person I’m interested in getting to know is you,” he says. 

“Soonyoung,” you caution.

“I know, your career, the article, all of it, I get it,” Soonyoung assures you. “I’m willing to take whatever you can give me.”

It’s dumb. You know it’s dumb. And you don’t care because this man in front of you is doing more than you ever expected. So you lean forward to kiss him and feel him smile against your lips. The next second, he hoists you up (you’re thankful for that drummer arm strength) and carries you to the bed. He’s so gentle when he puts you down, so careful to make sure you don’t hit your head on the headboard. 

And then his lips are on yours again, kissing you so fiercely that you lose your breath. His hands wander your body like he’s trying to map every piece of you. Every curve, every spot, every place that makes you shudder. His lips on you are a constant, keeping you grounded in this moment, allowing it to feel like more than a dream. His hands wander up the skirt you wore to the show earlier. You had put off changing for bed beyond removing your stockings and shoes. Now you’re almost thankful for that decision with how your skin erupts into goosebumps under Soonyoung’s touch. 

This time when you reach to remove his shirt, there’s no loud knock to disrupt you. There’s nothing at all to distract you from the beautiful man hovering over you on the bed. It seems ridiculous, now, that you ever thought you could ignore him. Once you get his clothes off, he removes your own, so you’re laying bare on your bed. Everything inside you wants you to cover yourself, unused to anyone taking you in with the attention Soonyoung gives you. But when you go to move your hands to cover yourself, he catches them, places the softest kisses on your knuckles, and lightly puts them over your head. His eyes take your body in like he’s never seen anything better.

“Absolutely beautiful,” he whispers against your skin. “You’re perfect.”

“Look who’s talking,” you manage to reply. 

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks, pulls away so he can look you in your eyes. “It’s okay if you say no.”

“Little late for that,” you chuckle.

“No, it’s not,” he reiterates. 

“I know, Soon,” you say through a smile. “I do want this.” 

It’s all the reassurance that he needs when his lips meet yours again, insistent. One of his hands runs down your body and along your thigh before he separates your legs. It makes you shiver in anticipation. Every part of you longs for him. You know he must realize. He runs one of his fingers between your folds and moans into the kiss with how wet you are. How badly you want him. How ready you are for him. After he does this several more times, you pull away.

“Please,” you beg him. 

You’re expecting him to tease you or to ask you what it is you’re begging for. Instead, he slides one finger inside you and captures your gasp. The kiss doesn’t last nearly long enough before he’s pulling away again, this time to watch your body react to his finger pumping slowly in and out of you. He’s encouraging your moans, muttering praises into your skin, making you feel like nothing else matters. He slides a second finger into you and your back arches at the feeling. He hooks his middle finger inside you and you know you’re going to be done for entirely too soon. 

As his pace quickens, he trails kisses along your neck, your chest, your stomach. You can’t even be self conscious because he doesn’t give you the chance. Just makes you feel better than you’ve ever felt with just his fingers. Your hands tangle in the sheets as you writhe under his attention.

“Soonyoung, please, I’m gonna come,” you whine out. He doesn’t slow, just adds a third finger.

“Then come, baby, I want to watch you come all over my fingers,” he urges.

And that’s, well that’s got you even closer. Never have you had a guy put your own needs above his own like that. He keeps his rhythm steady and it’s all too much, you’re feeling him everywhere and your body is on fire.

“Let go,” he whispers low into your ear.

So you do, you let go and drench his fingers, the release so strong that it takes you a minute to come back down or to realize you feel empty without his fingers. He’s laying on his side next to you and running a hand through your hair to brush it out of your face.

“Oh my god, Soonyoung,” you rasp out.

“Yeah?” he asks and you nod. 

He adjusts his position and you feel his hard length against your hip. You reach a hand down to lightly grip his cock. It’s longer than you were expecting but not too thick. Not entirely intimidating to think about inside of you. 

“You don’t have to…” he starts.

“I want to,” you disagree.

You run your finger over the head, collecting a little of the precum and then run your hand back down. It’s not enough though, so you push yourself up. He follows you with his eyes and readjusts so he’s leaning back against the headboard. You get between his legs and lick a stripe up the underside of his length, watch as he shudders over the briefest touch. You can tell he’s trying to sit back and enjoy it, but he’s sensitive. He must have enjoyed you coming on his fingers more than you realized. 

He lets you tease him, running your tongue along him entirely too slowly, your hand pumping without enough friction. But his desires win out before long.

“I need to be inside of you,�� Soonyoung whines. “Please?”

You swallow hard and nod. “Yes, oh my god.”

Before you even realize what’s happening, he gathers you up in his arms and lays you down underneath him. He spreads your leg and kisses all the way up from your thigh to your lips, leaving you desperate for more of him when he pulls away. It’s only so he can line himself up at your entrance, though. He eases into you slow enough that you can adjust to the feel of him. And then he’s rolling his hips into you.

You’re not sure if it’s the build up between the two of you, the realization of your feelings when you met the woman claiming to be his girlfriend, or what, but everything just feels…better. The stretch is that perfect kind of pleasure and the way he rolls his hips into you is just the right pace. He whispers constant reassurances into your skin and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this safe or whole with someone before. 

He takes his time with you, doesn’t thrust into you too hard or too fast, just wants to savor the moment. You can’t recall your last relationship taking this much care. It’s overwhelming in the best way, in the way that you don’t want it to end.

“I’m so close,” he hisses out too soon. 

“I’m almost there,” you whine out, heading towards your second orgasm of the night.

Soonyoung reaches between you and starts to rub your clit, making you cry out from the sensitivity. In no time, you’re screaming out as you come seconds apart from each other. 

“Wow,” Soonyoung says when he’s caught his breath and laying next to you on the bed. 

“Yeah,” you agree. 

He rolls over onto his side and faces you, looking both incredibly relaxed and impossibly happy. “Are we okay?”

“Oh my god, this is when you ask?” you laugh out.

“Well, I don’t wanna make the wrong assumption!” he defends.

“Yes, we’re good,” you start, “and before you say it, I will talk to you before making assumptions next time.”

“There’s going to be a next time? Do you like me?” Soonyoung asks, all gentle teasing in his voice.

“I am going to kick you out of this room,” you threaten.

You don’t follow through. Not when he wets a towel to come help you clean up or when he offers to get you clothes to wear to bed. Not when he fills up a glass with water for you to drink so you’re not dehydrated. Not when he offers to leave so that people don’t get the wrong idea. Not when you’re pulling him into a kiss and back into bed. Not when you’re talking until you fall asleep tangled up in each other.

The next couple days pass in kind of a blur with traveling and getting settled into the next tour stop. Needless to say, you don’t reach out to your boss about ending your trip early. You do have a conversation with Soonyoung, though, about how it is almost your last stop. He gets it, but he’s not ready to think about it, instead wrapping himself around you and pressing kisses to any part of your body that he can reach. He’s incredibly distracting and you find you don’t really mind. You also don’t mind if he lets his bandmates think there’s something going on with you. None of them seem surprised, which makes you wonder what he said before he won you over. 

After the next show, he doesn’t even pretend to go to the afterparty before coming to see you. He departs from his band and the hangers-on at the entrance to the hotel and comes straight to your room. Just as the two of you planned. And not that you’re expecting anything, but you’re waiting in your nightgown just in case, unable to stop thinking about Soonyoung moaning over being interrupted the first time. 

“Hey…wow,” Soonyoung says when you open the door and he takes you in.

“You were whining about being interrupted the first time,” you offer with a shrug. 

“I was not whining,” he protests, but kisses you anyway when he steps inside. 

“You were and it was cute,” you disagree. Calling Soonyoung cute is a mistake, you realize that the second you see his face.

“You think I’m cute,” he preens.

“I take it back,” you say immediately.

“Nope,” he says and pulls you into him. “Can’t take it back.”

He kisses you hard and deep before you can continue the argument. Not that you’re complaining about it. He moves backwards to sit down on the bed and pulls you onto his lap. Same position, different bed. You’ll still take it. 

“Soon, can I ask you something?” you ask.

“Anything,” he offers.

“Tonight, can you…don’t be gentle with me,” you manage.

“You didn’t like that?” Of course that’s his first worry.

“No, no, it was amazing, completely perfect,” you assure him and he relaxes beneath you. “It’s just…I want…”

“Something else,” he finishes.

You nod and look down, absently playing with the hem of his shirt. “I just, I feel safe with you and I want to try things.” 

Soonyoung lifts your chin with a finger so you can see how much care there is behind his eyes. He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth and then to your lips. 

“I won’t be so gentle with you, then,” he agrees. “But you have to tell me if it’s too much okay?” 

“Okay,” you agree.

And he’s not gentle. He takes his time building up to it, kissing you hard and pulling your lip between his teeth. Pulling off your clothes so you’re naked on his lap. Leaving marks where nobody else will see them. Grinding against your core even though he’s still dressed. Pulling endless moans out of you. Until he flips you onto your bag and pushes your legs open. He’s got his fingers inside you again and it’s nothing like the first time. Nothing like the gentle rhythm. He’s scissoring his fingers and pumping them quickly. He’s using this thumb to rub your clit. The stream of words coming out of your mouth is incomprehensible and you’re sure the people in the rooms on either side can hear you. You’re equally sure you don’t care.

It feels like record time when he’s coaxing your first orgasm out of you. Your whole body is sensitive and the waves continue to ripple through you. It doesn’t even feel like you’ve recovered from the first orgasm when you feel Soonyoung’s tongue run between your folds. He’s spreading your lips with his fingers and lapping into you.

“Soonyoung, fuck, oh my god,” you scream out.

He pops his head up from between your legs just long enough for a single question. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, fuck, please don’t,” you whine out and he’s between your legs again. 

You can’t even see straight but you’re sure that the sight of this man between your legs, tongue working you like he’s starving, is the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. His thumb rubs over your clit again and you arch into him. You move your hand into his hair to anchor him or yourself, you’re not sure. You’re oversensitive and overstimulated, but it’s the best kind of mix of pain and pleasure. There are tears forming in the corners of your eyes and you urge him on, beg him to keep going. 

The second orgasm rips through you even harder than the first and you’re screaming out your praise for him as he guides you through it. Once you come down, you feel him come up next to you and roll towards him. His lips are on yours in the next second and you can taste yourself on his tongue. You think you could kiss him for hours without getting bored or wanting to stop. Yet he pulls away from you entirely too soon. 

There’s confusion on your face as he gets out of the bed (and maybe a little bit of embarrassment that you’ve come twice and he’s still dressed). His eyes are on you as he strips himself out of his clothing before leaning over the bed. If you’re waiting for another kiss, you’re left waiting. He grabs behind your legs and pulls you to the edge. His eyes are full of fire, yet still checking to see if you’re okay. You ease any worries with a quick nod of your head. With that he pulls you up against him and kisses you quickly.

You’re so dazed that you don’t even realize he’s changing your position until you’re leaning over the edge of the bed with your ass in the air. He uses his foot to spread your legs apart so that he can line himself up. Even though you want to watch him, he presses between your shoulder blades so you’re leaning forward as much as possible. And maybe he’s got a point because the feeling of him pressing into you is so much better when you’re not watching him do it. 

This time, he doesn’t wait for you to adjust to him, just immediately snaps his hips into you, burying his cock fully inside on the first thrust. Even though he’s being rougher, his praise is still constant. Still talking you through every moment. When he lifts one of your legs up so your knee is on the edge of the bed, you think you see stars at the new position. He’s hitting you so deep and filling you so completely that you’re not sure how you ever survived without him. Dramatic, you chastise yourself, but you’re a little beyond sex stupid right now. 

His fingers dig into your hips where he holds you in place, keeping up the pace that has your eyes watering yet again. You’re so sensitive and you’re sure you’re not going to come again. Until you feel the orgasm building and the pressure in your tummy. Until his own words become unintelligible, just a string of curses and praise. Until you hear yourself tell him that you’re gonna come again and feel his own release just after yours. 

Your legs feel like jelly as he guides you back into the bed and disappears for a towel. You can hear the water running just before he reappears to clean you up. It’s such a stark contrast from minutes earlier when he’s gentle with you again. It’s way too early to feel anything for him, you remind yourself again, but you also can’t pretend not to feel anything. 

Once he cleans himself up, he gets into the bed and tucks the two of you under the covers without bothering to get dressed. His arms circle you and you feel safe, like this. Wanted and special and right. The kiss he presses to your forehead almost makes you sigh.

“How are you?” he asks softly into your hair.

“Amazing? Perfect? I don’t even know,” you answer.

“But you’re okay,” he presses.

“No, I’m a lot better than okay,” you assure him. He must see your smile. 

“Me too,” he agrees.

You’re not sure what happens next or how you’re going to be able to make this work. Or if it’s even going to work. You’re not sure any of that matters because you have this night and you have Soonyoung, at least for now. Nothing else matters.

thank you for reading, i hope you liked it 💕

[albertasunrise]

Hope You Can Forgive Me - Hope Preview

Masterlist

Summary: After Joel loses his wife and your best friend during childbirth. You support him as he takes on parenthood on his own at 22. But when feelings start to develop, you battle with the guilt you feel for falling for your best friend’s husband.

Relationships: Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3 I choose to give none. Read at own risk. 18+… this is to avoid spoilers! (So it’s been a while for this fic but this chapter is well underway. Thought I’d give y’all a sneaky peak of what's to come ♥️ Hoping to get this chapter up this weekend... I don't really have time to proofread beyond Grammerly so sorry for any mistakes 😬)

Series Masterlist - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

"How's things been with you?" Tommy asked you as he turned to face you. It was something that you had always liked about Tommy. When he was talking to you he gave you his undivided attention and never butted in when you spoke. Something that your husband and his family had always done that had driven you to distraction… But never the Miller boys. They always listened to what you had to say.

"Yeah, they're good." You nodded as you replied and placed your bottle on the table "Starting to meld well with the nice team. Making some friends too which is nice."

"Any hot men in the office catch your eye?"

Tommy's question took you by surprise and you couldn't help but glance at Joel a moment before answered. He was looking at anything but you and Tommy as they awaited your answer and you felt a small pang of hope fill you. Why, you weren't sure.

"Not really looking for anything at the moment." You said, shrugging your shoulders "Been so focused on work and the kids the last few months that I haven't really thought about what comes next."

Your eyes drifted to Noah and Ali who were talking animatedly about, you assumed, something that had happened in the books they were holding. Both of them had ended up bookworms like their dad. Something you were glad of as they had grown up. Buying them books to distract them from the reality of how sick Alec had been.

"Plus Alec hasn't been gone long. Would be wrong for me to just move on."

"You're entitled to be happy." Tommy stated plainly as he gave you that signature Miller look "He would want you to live life to the fullest. Lord knows you've earned that."

"I guess." You shrugged.

Truth be told, since coming back into the Miller's lives your feelings for Joel had started to stir again. He had turned out to be an incredible father, not that you had doubted him for a second but he had been forced to take on parenthood completely on his own when you had left. Ali's parents had died a few years after the accident leaving Joel with just Tommy for family but he had been in the army. So he had to take it all on by himself and he had flourished. Sarah was a kind, polite and caring young girl and the spitting image of her mother. Something that had made you both happy and sad. Happy that she had turned out so beautiful, but sad because there wasn't a day that went by that you didn't miss Ali. So much so that you had named your own daughter after her.

"How about you brother?" Tommy asked, taking the attention off of you "How's things been with that chick you're dating?"

"We've been on like two dates Tommy." Joel sighed but his brother shrugged.

'Still dating her." He chuckled as he took a long pull of his drink "Given her the Miller magic yet?" Joel choked on his beer as the words settled between you and your stomach sank.

He was dating?

Of course, he was dating. He was an attractive young man, why wouldn't he? Yet this information felt like a punch to the gut. You knew you had no right to feel this way about Joel seeing someone yet it was a fight to keep the tears at bay. You would later realise as you analysed your feelings over a large glass of wine at home that a small part of you had always held onto the hope that one day, you and Joel may have had your chance. That after all these years, he would realise how you felt and would return those feelings. You would later realise that that was a fool's hope.

You had broken things beyond repair with Joel all those years ago.

There was no hope for the two of you now. There was no way he felt the same way about you.

If only you knew.

Chapter Here

[rowrory]

FAVORITES

Want fics that don't just revolve around smut? Read these!

Fandoms include: jjk, bnha, haikyuu, aot, marvel, tvd

GOJO SATORU

Intrinsic Warmth — thatdesklamp (ao3)

Summary: “So stay with me. Forever.”

You make a weak stab at a joke. “For Infinity, you mean?”

“Yeah.” Satoru turns to look at you and your heart jumps at the clear expression on his face. There’s not a hint of humour: for once, he’s fully and completely serious. “For the rest of my life, and for all the lives after.”

-

You meet Satoru on 7th September, 1996.

Some time later, you realise you love him.

Notes: HOLY FUCK I LOVED THIS SO MUCH!?!?!??! THE ANGST?!?!? THE PINING?!?!?!? I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS!!!!!!!! THE AUTHOR WASN'T FUCKING AROUND WHEN SHE WROTE THIS!!!

gods, monsters, monkeys — yuzudrops (ao3)

Summary: A grossly under-qualified graduate of Jujutsu High is hired to teach a class of Special Grades. They learn there is more to strength than power. It doesn't end well.

Notes: chefs kisses, literally one of THE best gojo fics out there

Keep a Place For Me — alkhale (ao3)

Summary: A quiet story that takes place a little before Gojo Satoru was born to be the greatest shaman of this era, his youth, triumphs, losses, and his inherent rise to a place unknown by anyone else.

And the one person who bore witness to it all.

Notes: IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THIS YET, YOU ARE SERIOUSLY MISSING OUT

take me down (to the depths of your depravity) — Innka (ao3)

Summary: The story starts with you standing in the pouring rain. All you remember are your orders.

Gojo Satoru. Look for the white hair and the baby blues.

"This will be easy," they said. "White hair and baby blues, eyes like the sky. Pull him in, fatten him up and send him to the devil. In and out, one and done."

"You can do this with your eyes closed," they said.

"This will be easy," they said.

They were wrong.

Notes: Read trigger warnings first

watermelon sugar why — Innka (ao3)

Summary: You had marched into his office, looking like your life was in his hands. You held out an excursion request. For a beach trip, of all things. By the time Gojo finished reading it, he had wanted to do exactly three things: sign the paper, laugh in your face, and bend you over on his desk to fuck you until you were screaming his name. 

Not necessarily in that order. 

Notes: this is a one shot but i live for pining satoru so

all that is solid melts into air — GrilledTandooriSmoke (ao3)

Summary: Curse user.

The words weigh heavy like lead on your tongue. Something that needs to be swished around before it's spat back out like the black gunk it is. Evil and vile jujutsu sorcerers who would dare turn on humanity in the never-ending war against curses.

And it just so happens you come from a family of them.

Alternatively: political machinations have you attending Jujutsu Tech at the same time as Gojo Satoru.

Notes: in love with this

among dawn flowers (the face of god) — unolvrs (ao3)

Summary: Your grandmother calls the young master of the Gojō Clan a boy-god, and you, his destined bride who will further the cause of the All-Seeing Eyes.

—or, you are raised to be Satoru’s bride and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. (Everything is.)

Notes: i love angst

the witches' brew — orphan_account (ao3)

Summary: You are the co-owner of a small café in a small, eccentric district in Tokyo that is notorious for bizarre murders and supernatural occurrences.

You think you’ve seen it all, but it turns out that nothing comes close to the man wearing a bad Kakashi cosplay who terrorizes you with his increasingly complicated and awful drink orders.

Notes: im devastated i didn't get to see who actually wrote this

5 + 1 — script_nef (orphan_account) (ao3)

Summary: 5 times Gojou had a date with you and 1 time you realised it was a date.

Alt title: Watch Gojou be really obvious about his crush but it goes completely over your head every time. Well, nearly every time.

Notes: kicked my feet a couple times while reading this

Ripverse — seoafin (ao3)

Summary: “You don't need to worry about anything like dying. I won't let anything happen to you," he says quietly, and it sounds like a promise.

You wait for the punchline. The part where he laughs it off as a joke, and then tells you to snap yourself out of it in a way you would’ve expected from him in the past. But he’s dead serious.

Notes: This is a series of one shots in the same univ with the same character, i just used the summary for the very first part

FUSHIGURO TOJI

(and your love is) standing next to me — shidouryusei (ao3)

Summary: “I wanna meet your son.”

You regret what you’ve said the second the words leave your lips.

“Why the hell do you wanna meet my kid?”

Notes: holy hell is this one of the best toji fics out there

BAKUGO KATSUKI

what heroes do — sugiwa (ao3)

Summary: Shouto didn't know much about his twin sister. She was an Edgeshot fan, had a raging collection of manga, and liked Natsuo the best.

She also wasn't supposed to be at U.A., but he sure as hell wasn't telling their father about it.

Notes: i am not kidding when i say that even tho this thing has almost 600k words (it's a monster!!), i have reread this so many times it's not even funny anymore

MIYA ATSUMU

WHITE NOISE — 1keshi (ao3)

Summary: you’ve always loved atsumu— that was the problem.

(alternatively, you force a therapist to listen to the story of how you fell in love with your childhood friend, because what else are you supposed to do?)

Notes: lovelovelove

You Found Me — Amy_Stark117 (ao3)

Summary: Miya Atsumu had his life goals set - volleyball, fame, and success. Nothing could stand in his way.

You threw all that out the window, simply by sitting next to him in class.

Life is really funny like that, isn't it?

Notes: 10/10

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

premonition of love — peacchy (ao3)

Summary: A day after the freak quick duo sneaks into Shiratorizawa campus grounds, Ushijima gets summoned by his school’s student disciplinary committee.

Rule breached?

Assisted Trespassing.

While he steps out of the office with more than just a case under his name, you (unknowingly) step into the affluent stratum of Miyagi’s controlled elite.

In a world of either-or’s, you’re caught in between.

And possibly something more.

Notes: yall listen before this, i was NOT an ushijima girlie. now, i am ;)) this ff also has a love triangle in it (ushijima x reader x sakusa) with alternative endings (though it's not completed yet)

Shoot the Ball — alkhale (ao3)

Summary: As captain of the dying Shiratorizawa Kyudo Club, you're sick and tired of the biased favoritism that goes to the showier sports. Especially the worst of them all—the boy's volleyball team.

You're determined to show the entire school how great archery is, get the funding your club deserves, and by the end of it all, make the entire school a fan of your archery.

You just didn't know you already had a fan from the start.

And he may or may not be captain of the one team on campus you have a personal vendetta against.

Notes: i love alkhale so much

LEVI ACKERMAN

1,000 Steps — BaddieCurlsXo (ao3)

Summary: You're being torn away to another world every new moon, unable to connect the dots or find any real meaning in your travels. That is, until one night you stumble upon a man with grey eyes and a green cape, who asks you, rather suspiciously, "what are you doing outside the walls?"

Notes: lovette

Death's Door — SongsOfApollo (ao3)

Summary: You spent years of your life under the guidance of Dr. Helfen, the greatest physician inside Wall Sina. Now a physician yourself, you work alongside him with pride: stitching up wounds, nursing the sick, and helping to save the lives of many. But after the Battle of Trost, rapid changes begin to take place, starting with an inquiry from none other than Commander Erwin Smith and Captain Levi of the Survey Corps.

You have heard many tales from surviving Survey Corps soldiers on what it’s like on the outside: to face a Titan, to feel overwhelming dread, to watch your fellow man perish in such an insulting, gruesome way. You’ve witnessed the effects of Titans on the people you’ve doctored. Now you are to experience the horror firsthand.

You are to join the Scout Regiment as their field surgeon, and you will do so under the direct command of Captain Levi.

Notes: one of my fav fics of levi

BUCKY BARNES

Vacant Mirrors — pilotisms (ao3)

Summary: Dr. Hart shares an office with Dr. Raynor.

You share a waiting room with Bucky Barnes.

Notes: felt like crying even tho the ending wasn't angsty

Safe with me — bitsandbobsandstuff (ao3)

Summary: When an unknown threat enters your life, protection is offered at the highest level. As Bucky Barnes comes into your life, the game changes, and you realise falling for the man tasked with keeping you safe is the last thing you expected.

Notes: Holy freaking heck was this beautiful. The plot? Chefs kisses. The writing? Chefs kisses. Reader's personality? Chefs kisses. The romance between reader and bucky? CHEFS FUCKING KISSESSSSS.

In The Shadow Of Your Wings — emmagnetised (ao3)

Summary: Margaret Stark is five years old when the Winter Soldier comes for her and her parents. But she survives the attack and is returned to her brother, though she's left broken and traumatised. She grows with a promise she made to herself on the night of the car crash. A mission.

This is the story of Maggie forging herself into her own hero, into something that no one expects: The Wyvern.

Notes: if you're a delulu marvel stan and haven't read anything by emmagnetised yet, are you even a delulu marvel stan?? p.s there is also an alternative for this story, go check it out on the author's acc on ao3 if you're interested!

STEVE ROGERS

The Siren — emmagnetised (ao3)

Summary: Austrian-born Alice Moser is new to Brooklyn when she meets and befriends a small blonde kid called Steve Rogers. Years later tragedy puts an ocean between them. When they meet again everything is different - Steve is about to go to war, and Alice is going to make the SSR an offer they can't refuse: her services as an undercover agent within the very heart of Nazi Germany.

The path is already written. The whole world knows the stories of Captain America and the Siren. Or do they?

Notes: ISTG IF U DON'T GO READ THIS MASTERPIECE RN

LOKI

A Twist of Marvel — GeneralofLoki (wattpad)

Summary: Naomi Swanson is fresh out of college, working as an assistant in a small paper supply company and inhaling coffee by the gallons. When an accident knocked her out, Naomi woke up in a world she had only seen through screens.

Armed only with her phone and a questionable data plan, Naomi attempts not to be killed as she comes face-to-face with the Avengers, and so much more.

Notes: do not and i repeat do NOT underestimate this just because it's a wattpad story ;)) it's literally the best girl goes to alternative dimension story in the mcu universe out there!!

KLAUS MIKAELSON

descent — tothelakes (wattpad)

Summary (since the summary on this one is a little long I'll be giving a brief description instead): Rory, the twin sister of Elena, unknowingly dates Klaus, the terrifying hybrid determined to sacrifice her sister. When the Mystic Falls events start, cue the beginning of their tumultuous journey as secrets are revealed and feelings come to light.

Notes: this is probably the best klaus fic to ever grace the world of fanfictions.

[hannahbarberra162]

Not My Monkey, Ch 1.

(Reverse Trope Isekai Reader)

I thought it would be funny to have a reverse trope -- instead of having one Isekai Reader who knows everything, too many isekai readers have already messed up the OP timeline beyond recognition.

I'm still writing all my other works, I just needed to get this out of my system. I don't think this will float most people's boats, but that OK.

on Ao3

Platonic Strawhats | Reader / Jinbei

This chapter's plot heavy, I had to get some of the world building out of the way. The rest will be more fun and silly / some romance / angst later. Also, this is my first time writing most (all?) of the Straw hats. It’s been challenging, so please be kind <3. There’s 10 of them but only one of me.

~~~

“Robin! Another one’s here!” Some kid in a straw hat was yelling right next to you, causing you to wince. You had a massive headache, you hadn’t felt this hungover since…wait. You didn’t drink anymore. You opened your eyes to a sunny day on…a wood boat? You were definitely sailing on open water. Maybe the ocean since you smelled salt… What kind of dream was this? Sure, you had anxiety dreams of drowning but nothing so pleasant .

A disembodied hand grabbed your ankle and held on tightly. It startled you but since this was a dream there was no need to worry. You were kind of enjoying the sun and the water, so what was a hand (with beautiful nail beds, but dry cuticles) going to do? You turned your head to find a black haired boy staring at you inches from your face.

“Gah! Don’t do that!” you said to the boy. He grinned at you and laughed.

“Shishishishi, it’s me! Luffy! You made it!” 

“Made it where?” Were you supposed to know who he was?

“To the Going Merry! You’re our twentieth reader -”

“Twenty third,” said another guy you hadn’t seen. This one was napping against the mast, talking with eyes still closed. He had luscious green hair that you’d want to check out later. You didn’t see any roots showing so either he had dyed it recently or…oh wait you were in a conversation.

“Sounds good, Loogie. I’m not quite following what’s happening.” This was the most complex dream you’d ever had. You’d never been able to interact like this before in a dream. It all felt like real life. You started to wonder if maybe something else was going on.

“Shishishi it’s LUFFY! But you know that! So what was the last thing you read?” The boy was still sitting incredibly close to you and practically vibrating with energy. 

“Um, I read a biography of Catherine the Great. Why?” Luffy tilted his head at your words.

“Is she in Egghead or Wano?” 

“Um, in Russia? I don’t think she’d be called an egghead though.” The green haired guy huffed and got up.

“Gonna be a difficult one. Robin can figure it out. Nappin’ on the other side of the deck,” he said to Luffy, walking away. He looked like he was flexing his back as you watched him retreat. His three swords clacked against each other, making you wonder how practical it was to have so many.

“No, she’s gonna be a great reader!” Luffy smiled at you again. You smiled back, but were very confused. The hand gripping your ankle was still there holding on tight. A breathtakingly beautiful woman with black hair, looking to be growing out some bangs, was walking towards you with her arms crossed in front of her. Even though she exuded radiance, her intense blue eyes pinned you with a stare. She sat down in front of you, keeping her arms crossed.

“Hello,” you said. Might as well be polite in dreamland.

“Hi,” the woman said smiling. “I’m Robin. What’s your name?”

Long ago, you were tired of baristas messing up your name (even though it wasn’t hard!). So when someone asked for your name, you supplied their own back to them. It usually worked out ok, and gave room for some awkward chit chat while you waited for your coffee.

“Isn’t that funny? My name is also Robin.” The woman quirked an eyebrow but kept her smile and nodded.

“Shishishishi two Robins! But what can we call you then? It’s too confusing having two Robins on board.” Luffy rubbed his chin in thought. 

“Interesting thought, Captain. For now, I have a prepared document I’d like you to read. It should answer the most common questions we get asked by Readers.” The woman handed you a scroll. What in the medieval ages was this?

“Robin TWO!” Luffy said, snapping his fingers. You untied the scroll. Might as well see what it said.

“I don’t think Robin 2 is a flattering name,” Robin told Luffy. “Let’s think of other ideas. In the meantime, let Robin read.” The hand patted your ankle. “It’s best if I keep a hold of you until the shock wears off. Saves a lot of time chasing people down.” She kept a hold of you? Whatever. Looking at the scroll, you saw an elegantly handwritten list.

~~~

Frequently Asked Questions - for Readers

Where am I?

You are on board the Going Merry . Franky has modified it so it does not bear complete resemblance to the original ship but it is also not the 1,000 Sunny .

Is this real?

Quite real. This world is as real to us as yours was to you. This is not a dream, hallucination, or simulation.

Am I dead?

We are not sure. It seems to be likely based on the anecdotes of previous Readers. However, there is no way to know conclusively.

Why was I brought here?

We do not know the criteria under which Readers are brought to our world. We believe it has to do with your intense love of “One Piece.”

What happened to my belongings?

It seems whatever you had last in your world is what came here, with a few exceptions. Cell phones, laptops, and other electronics never make it to our world. We have your belongings on the ship, if you would like to have them.

What will happen to me? Can I stay on the ship?

Readers have stayed in our world for 21 days, after which they disappear. We do not know what happens afterward. During your 21 days, you will remain with us on the ship. You may stay in the men’s quarters.

Is there a way to get back to my world?

Not that we know of. We are unsure if you are transported there once again when you disappear. 

Are there other readers?

There is only ever one Reader in our world at a time. The Strawhat Pirates have had the most Readers, though the Heart Pirates and Whitebeard Pirates have had a few as well.

What arc are we on?

The “timeline” that you know has been completely abandoned. With so much additional information and insight into future events, the events of this world have been drastically changed. We are not in recognizable “arcs” any longer.

What about Ace? Thatch? Whitebeard? Corazon? Sabo?

Thanks to the information supplied by Readers, Ace, Thatch and Whitebeard are all alive. Yamato has joined the Whitebeard crew with Ace. We had a time traveling Reader who saved Cora-san. Sabo has been made aware of Ace and Luffy and they have already reunited.

Can I fight? In our experience, Readers are quite weak and unable to fight. If you wish to try, you must first defeat Usopp in an arm wrestling contest.

Note: Please do not bring up our individual histories. We experienced them as real people and do not appreciate discussing them. Thank you.

~~~

You finished reading the scroll and re-rolled it. It addressed some of your concerns, but also had a lot of information you didn’t know what to do with. You handed the scroll back to Robin.

“You should call this the ‘Handbook for the Recently Deceased,” you told the raven haired beauty. You still had your sense of humor even when dead, it turned out. Er, maybe dead.

“That is quite an excellent suggestion, I think I shall,” Robin nodded solemnly and took the scroll with another arm sprouting from her own. You’d ask her about that later. 

“What questions do you still have?” Robin asked kindly.

“Why do I have to stay in the men’s quarters?” 

“Oh, that is not applicable to you. Nearly all of our Readers have been men, usually Torao has the female Readers. You can join Nami and myself in the women’s quarters.” 

“I’m dead then, huh?” You couldn’t wrap your head around the idea, especially when you felt so alive. 

“Robin B!” Luffy shouted from a few feet away. He still hadn’t given up on a nickname for you.

“No, Luffy, I don’t care for that,” Robin said calmly. “That would make me Robin A, which I am not. And yes, you are likely dead.” 

“That’s a bummer.” You’d think about that and deal with your feelings later, this was all too weird to believe right now. You fiddled with the necklace you were wearing. None of this felt real at all. Besides, one of your best traits as a person was your ability to roll with things. You had always been pretty open to change, though this change was…drastic.

“Interesting - few readers express that emotion upon arriving in our world. Readers are usually thrilled to be here with us.” Robin looked like she wanted to study you in a lab.

“Um, so what’s a Reader? Or a One Piece?” You might as well learn while you were here for the next few weeks. 

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Robin said, the hand patting your ankle. “We aren’t going to harm you for your information. We’ve probably heard it all already. We know that we’re a comic and a show in your world. You’re not in danger.” You hadn’t considered that you might be in danger, but you were thinking about it now.

“TWO Robin!” Luffy yelled from across the deck. He’d been pacing and trying to think of a good nickname this whole time.

“Luffy, that is the worst suggestion yet.” Robin frowned. 

“Aw, you don’t like any of ‘em! This is frustrating. Maybe we can just call her Mystery Reader !” 

“Not every reader is a Mystery Reader, Luffy. You can’t say that for -” Robin was chastising Luffy.

“Myst is fine. Short for Mystery.” You didn’t really care what they called you since, you know, you’d be going to the afterlife in about three weeks.

“ Shishishishishi I knew you’d be a good reader, Misty!” Luffy stretched his arms from where he stood to wrap them around you. Misty, sure. That was similar to what you said. What the…was this kid rubber? Add one more weird thing to the pile, why not? 

“What other questions do you have?”

You were gonna put your cards on the table. “Listen Robin, I’ll be honest, I didn’t get a lot out of your handbook. I don’t know any of those people, or any of you, or what this show is. I don’t know why I’m here, I have no information to give you. I watch documentaries and sometimes HGTV. This is like a new employee orientation for a job I didn’t apply to. ” Robin nodded sagely.

“I quite like that phrase - new employee orientation. Perhaps more of a ‘new reader orientation.’ In any event, you’re here with us now, whether you know any information or not. I am going to release you, and you can get settled in.” The hand holding on to you vanished as you watched. 

“Cool party trick.” 

“Yes, they are very useful, though not always appreciated at parties.” Robin stood up and you did the same. You stretched your legs and back as you’d been sitting for a while. Robin was a tall drink of water, you thought. You were average height, nothing crazy. But she was statuesque and slim, making you think of your own body. Sure, you had some self confidence, but as you approached closer to middle age, things didn’t look quite the same as they once did. And Robin looked like a supermodel, graceful and elegant.

“Do I hear the sweet voice of a lovely Mellorine?” said a handsome waiter, holding a glass of water on a tray. He was practically swooning and you’d never met before. A little strange, but maybe he was just enthusiastic. Robin looked at the waiter, who was wearing a three piece suit.

“This is Sanji, our chef. He is also one of the Wings to the Captain.” 

“Oh, sweet Mellorine -” 

“Wait, who is the Captain?” You cut off Sanji, you realized you didn’t know who was running this show.

Sanji’s expression showed surprise. He looked at Robin for clarification, pausing in moving the tray your way to your dismay. You really wanted that water.

“Misty, as Captain calls her, does not know anything about our world. We will all have to introduce ourselves.” 

“Wait, does that mean Luffy is -”

“The Captain,” answered Robin and Sanji simultaneously. That kid?! The one who suggested they call you “Two Robin”? You didn’t say anything so as not to insult their captain or whatever but the kid didn’t look like he could be older than 18. Not your circus, not your monkey. As long as the ship didn’t sink in the next three weeks, it didn’t really matter to you.

“Right, right. That seems…good. Um, Sanji, is that water for me? I’d really appreciate it.” Sanji looked like you’d asked him to senior prom.

“Oh, dear, sweet, beautiful Misty, it would be an honor to serve you this water.” He bowed to you with a flourish. Alright, time to nip this in the bud.

“Look kid, I’m old enough to be your mother. Cut it out. But thank you for the water.” He deflated a little but not for long. 

“Like wine, most women only get better with age,” he said with a charming smile. “As Robin mentioned, I am Sanji, the chef on our crew. Do you have any dietary restrictions?” 

“Oh, I’ll eat anything you make.” 

“Is that so? Truly, no restrictions? Preferences? Allergies?” For all his attempted flirting before, he seemed serious right now. 

“Well, truthfully, I’m vegetarian. So, no meat.” Sanji nodded, smiling once again.

“Not a problem. Do you eat fish?”

“Ah, no. No animals.” You saw a rubber arm going past you as Luffy rocketed himself to your side. Rubber had its uses it seemed.

“You don’t eat meat?!” Luffy yelled into your face, completely incredulous.

“Nope, haven’t in over 20 years.” You moved your head back away from his. Kid didn’t have much need for personal space.

“What do you eat then!?” It was like the kid couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of not eating meat. You shrugged. You’d had this conversation in various forms many, many times before.

“Vegetables, fruit, grains, legumes, things like that.” Luffy furrowed his brow in thought for a moment before it cleared into a bright smile.

“SANJI - can I have Misty’s portion of meat??” 

“No! If she doesn’t eat it, I’m not going to make more than usual.”

“But she’s our reader, you have to make her a portion! Then I can have it.” 

“But if she won’t eat it, I won’t make an extra portion,” Sanji already looked exasperated.

“But I want it!” Luffy was on the verge of a tantrum, you thought.

“No! You already eat all the food! Besides, if she doesn’t eat meat… ” The two of them seemed to be entering into an argument about meat rations, so you’d bow out of this conversation. It was only getting louder as they argued in circles. 

You drank your water and took a look around you for the first time. The ship seemed pleasant, though not very modern. There weren’t any electrical outlets or lights, and not much metal either. It was powered by wind, as you saw the giant sails. Maybe there wasn’t electricity here? You’d ask Robin later. Your eyes wandered up and you saw a giant jolly roger flag, the skeleton wearing a hat.

“So this is a pirate ship, huh?” The fighting made a little more sense now. Not that you wanted to. You’d let them handle that part of the afterlife. It made you a little nervous and you fidgeted with your necklace. A handsome young man wearing overalls and goggles locked eyes with you while holding your hair dryer. The next thing you noticed was that he had the most beautiful, long, luscious natural coils you’d ever seen in your life. It took everything in you not to ask him his wash day routine before you exchanged names. “Hey! That’s mine!” you yelled at him. You were protective of your tools, they were like your babies. The man looked scared for a moment, then apologetic. 

“Sorry, I just got excited. I’ve never seen a machine like this before. What does it do?” He was turning it over in his hands, looking at the barrel. He was holding it like a precious treasure, touching it with care. At least he could appreciate machinery.

“It’s a hairdryer.” Your guess that they didn’t have electricity seemed to have more merit now. Which meant he air dried all that hair every time? Coily King. 

“Interesting! How does it work? Obviously the electricity feeds through the cord, other readers have had corded things before -”

“Usopp! Where’s the new reader? I wanna see if they have pens!” An unbelievably sexy young woman wearing a tiny string bikini came up from below deck, her bright orange hair blowing in the breeze. Was every person on this ship attractive? How did her boobs defy gravity like that? You looked down at your own, hopeful that whatever force was keeping hers up might be helping yours. No dice. 

“Hi, I’m the new reader?” You extended your hand, which she shook. The woman smiled back at you.

“I’m Nami, Robin told me you don’t know anything about our world. So, the way it works here is that everyone pays a daily fee to stay on the boat. It’s 100 Beri a day. That’s how we afford to maintain the ship in tip top condition.” You could smell bullshit a mile away - you’d been working customer service jobs on and off for decades. You decided to play along to see what happened.

“Oh, of course. But how will I get money? I guess I’ll have to sell some of my belongings…” You pursed your lips for dramatic effect. “I know! I have some pens, I could sell those for…what was it you said? 1,000 Beri each?” Nami smiled even wider, a classic mistake. 

“Well, what’s money among friends? And besides, it’s not like you can take anything back with you. We have a lot of reader stuff left on the ship.” You paused, pretending to consider for a moment. 

“Hmm. You’re right. Maybe I’ll just drop them all in the sea. Y’know, like a, funeral. Since, I guess mine’s already happening. Maybe.” You didn’t want to think about your funeral, it had been a nightmare to figure everything out when your dad died. You felt bad for whoever was arranging it, probably your sister. You were zoned out thinking for a moment, and snapped back when Nami said something. “I’m sorry, I missed that. What did you ask me?”

“What kind of pens do you have?” Nami had taken the bait, hook line and sinker. You doubled down.

“I’d be willing to show them to you, for a price.” She raised an eyebrow, then broke it with a sincere smile.

“Welcome aboard! I’m the navigator for the crew, it’s nice to meet you. You’ll be staying with me and Robin, I hope you’ll have a fun time with us. Now about those pens…” You smiled at her introduction.

“Thank you, and I’d be glad to show you what I have. I’ve always got at least a couple on me. Where’s my stuff? We can see what’s there.” 

“Follow me, it’s probably in the crows nest. That’s where reader stuff usually appears.” She started walking toward a ladder that led up to a platform high in the sky. High, high in the sky. 

“Hell no!” you exclaimed. “I’m not going up there!” Usopp and Nami looked askance at each other.

“Why not?” asked Usopp, still holding the hair dryer like it was a puppy he was cuddling.

“I’m afraid of heights.” Not that unusual of a fear, you didn’t even like diving off the 3 meter diving board at the pool. They looked at each other again. You felt like you were in middle school again, asking to sit at the cool kids table. 

“That’s OK, I’ll go get it for you.” Usopp handed you the hairdryer and climbed the ladder. Nice, you got to sit with them. Score one for you. 

~~~ 

The last thing you remembered from your regular life was walking home from work, rolling your train case with you. You always took everything home with you, even though you trusted the salon you were working for. Force of habit after so many years. You didn’t remember anything after that, though it would be ironic if you got hit by a car. 

Usopp kindly carried your things down from the crows nest. It was weird seeing your train case and purse on a wooden pirate ship, like when you saw a Timex in a historical movie. You heard a distant crash and looked over. The green haired guy was fighting Sanji, both of them looked pretty angry. The green haired guy was using his three swords against Sanji’s kicking? Must have strong legs. Maybe all the fighting was with each other. Nami and Usopp didn’t even look up.

“Ooh, what’s in here? Treasure? I’ve never seen something like this before. Most readers have backpacks or purses.” Nami was eyeing your train case greedily.

“No, it’s for my haircutting tools, makeup, manicure supplies, things like that.” You’d been an esthetician for a long time, though you’d done other jobs here and there. Nami threaded her fingers together in delight.

“You’re a hairdresser?! And you do nails?! Big sister, you’re the best reader yet! Most of our readers are in eye-tea. Would you cut my hair?” Oh, she meant IT. Information technology. Made sense, lots of people worked in IT. You’d never really gotten all that good at computers, so that wasn’t something you’d ever pursued.

“I mean, yeah, we can talk about that.” Even in the afterlife, everyone wanted a haircut when they found out you were a hairdresser. “Speaking of, Usopp, you have the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen.” Usopp looked flustered, like he wasn’t used to compliments. That surprised you, he was clearly smart, well muscled, helpful…if you were 20 years younger you’d have been all over him. Or maybe even 10. But he looked like he couldn’t be older than 20 and that really didn’t do it for you. You liked your men with their prefrontal cortex fully developed. Besides, you hadn’t dated for a long time. In fact, aside from Robin, everyone looked really young. You wondered if there were any other older people on board. Even Robin looked like she couldn’t have been older than 35 at the most.

“So, what do you do here?” It seemed like everyone had a specific job on board, might as well find out. 

“Well, I’m the great Captain Usopp, and I am one of the bravest and most notorious pirates on the seas. I’ve defeated -”

“Wait, I thought Luffy was the Captain.” Usopp’s train of thought was paused.

“Oh, he’s the Captain of this crew because I felt bad for him after I single handedly defeated a pirate fleet of 5,000 men. It was easy too, let me tell you the story…” Usopp went off on a long tale about his (obviously fake) adventures on the seas. But he was funny and entertaining and a really good story teller. You touched his arm to pause his story as he was explaining how he defeated a giant with a flaming sword.

“Listen, Usopp, if you ever want, I’ll style your hair for you. Braid out, cornrows, twist out, whatever you want.” You wished you could take a before and after picture for your business Insta, but based on what Robin had told you, your phone hadn’t made it through the…portal? Er, however you got here. You didn’t offer a fade or anything that would have you cut it - it was too gorgeous to cut. 

“Hmm, maybe I’ll take you up on that - I’ve been wanting a new look recently,” Usopp mused. Nami was pouting, you didn’t want to upset her. “Same for you, uh, little sister, I’d gladly style your beautiful orange hair. I’ve never seen a shade like it.” You hadn’t, it was like the shade of an actual orange. Nami was appeased.

“Thank you Big Sis, I’d love to do something with all this.” It looked like she was growing out a bob, and it was in that awkward transition stage. You could help style it a little better, whoever had been cutting it did a good job, just needed a few pointers.

~~~

A little while later and the sun was in its descent. You were still with Usopp, sitting on the deck. Nami had gone off to do some work, saying she’d see you later. He’d told you a few funny stories before he asked to see the electrical esthetician tools you had in your case. He was most interested in the nail drill, asking question after question. At some point, you didn’t have answers for him. You knew the basics of how it worked but your recollection of electron transfer was weak. 

“Dinner’s ready!” Sanji called. Perfect timing, you were getting hungry. Usopp helped you up and you headed to the galley. 

“How many people are on the ship?” you asked. You’d met five of them, not including the green haired man who didn’t introduce himself. 

“There’s ten of us, eleven including you. We’re a small but strong crew.” Usopp flexed his arm.

“By the way, I’m not going to arm wrestle you. I know my strengths, and fighting isn’t one of them.” Usopp looked relieved. “Not that I’d win anyway,” you continued, “you look strong. But I’ll let you handle the fighting.” Usopp smiled at your last statement. You wanted to compliment Usopp when you could, he seemed like he needed it. 

“Oh yeah, I’ve won every arm wrestling competition I’ve ever had. Let me tell you the time when I arm wrestled a giant octopus and won against every tentacle…” You smiled to yourself and walked to the galley together. Entering through the swinging door, you saw a large table filled with nine other people. Well, mostly people. There was also a skeleton, an android looking guy, and a gigantic blue man - merman? And speaking of the merman, holy shit. 

You’d spent time babysitting your nieces and had seen every Disney princess movie that had ever been released in the last 60 years. Their favorites were “Frozen,” and “Moana,” which was the better of the two. You found the polynesian demi-god to be…appealing. At least more than the white bread Cristoff. And that merman looked like Maui had decided to grow a meter and get more muscled. And turn blue. He was huge - maybe 3 meters tall - and you wanted to climb him like a tree. Did that make you a pervert? Maybe, but it was a gut reaction. You weren’t going to act on it. Besides, you weren’t blind, you could appreciate a good looking person when you saw one. He looked like he was around your age, or at least older than the group of younguns you’d met. Maybe the afterlife had its perks after all. 

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

♤RAMPAGE♤

Episode 1: ♤AGGRESSIVE♤

{WHERE a young teen screams out her aggression with heavy death metal for a boy she barely knows.}

[Warnings: Yandere Aqua, will add more Warnings later.]

《AGGRESSIVE: Pursuing one's aims and interests forcefully, sometimes unduly so.》

♤

Aquamarine Hoshino was a strange type of person...

He was a liar, a scoundrel at best.

Yet he was a young man. With simple and unhinged desires.

Meeting you didn't change that.

What attracted him to you like a bear to honey? Was it your sweet smile and compliance? Or your features that made him feel like he was gonna melt into a puddle?

"Uh-umm, you okay?" Your voice captures his attention as you gave him an awkward smile.

"Yes." The blonde replied smoothly as he watched you nod unsurely.

"You were talking about how you felt bad for not getting in the assignment for one of your classes, right?"

You look at him blankly... Then, eruptly bang your head against your desk. Comically, whining as your female friend, laughs at you robotically.

"It's not funny!!" You cry fruitlessly.

Aqua studied you like a new breed of animal.

You weren't much of an attention bringer, yet so ordinary to the eye, while also being so secretive and polite.

People wanted to be close to you, good or bad.

He was one of those people.

Aqua believed it was possible that you held that 'star-power' that he, Ruby, and his mother had.

And you did.

But instead of showcasing it to the world with pride. You kept to yourself, going as far as tl screaming your lungs out a simple karaoke room across town.

Aqua.. Wanted to see you shine like Ai. But the selfish part of him relished the simplicity of your relationship with him.

Of course, it was held together by thinly veiled lies. But not so detrimental to his plans.

Deceiving had become easy, was this how Ai felt when she showed her "love"?

Aqua would never know. Yet he yearned to, one day.

"Hey, (Y/N)? Wanna join us for drinks at a new cafe we found?"

Aqua narrows his eyes slightly at your male friend. His blushing and humble appearance ticks the blonde off.

"Maybe it'll help you keep your mind off it?"

You groan miserably at your friend.

Aqua, used to this, expected you to decline. Yet raised your head and sighed.

Don't tell him you were considering-!

"Maybe another time.. You guys should go.. Lunch is almost over.." You mumble distracted and off into your own world.

"See you guys.."

You don't bother to get up as you shove your face back on the desk.

Your male friend eyes you worriedly as he says goodbye while your female friend taps something on her phone. Before glancing at you and Aqua.

"You'll get over it," she said simply, "you always do.." She sighed agitatedly before leaving the classroom too.

"She could of been a little nicer.." You grumble before leaning your back against the chair, a calm sigh leaving your lips as you pull out your school book.

"Hey.."

You look away from your task, giving your sorta, new, school friend, attention.

"Yeah? What's up?"

"If you need help studying, maybe you should-"

"Please don't give me advice," you said sweetly.

Ah.. He could tell your rage was rising.

Good.

"Sorry," he mutters, looking away.

Noticing his aloofness, you quickly scramble up an apology for him.

"Wait! I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean it!"

You try to back-track your words.

"It's just.. I'm suprised, you didn't really give advice.. So.."

"You think I'm not wise?" Aqua acted offended as you squeak and raise your hands, hoping for mercy.

"No-!"

"You know.. You can just ask the teacher for easier work." Aqua said in a monotone voice, hiding his smile as he sees your composure slightly crack.

"HAH... FUNNY JOKE." You grit out, your lips pulled together into a gummy smile.

Alright, Aqua knew when to quit, and he rather be kept in your good graces... For the mean time.

"I wanted to ask you something.." Aqua said seriously, his bright blue eyes giving off a small gleam.

You look at him expectedly and curious, capturing your full attention once more.

"Yeah..?"

-

You huff, exasperated at the end of the day. Your normal shoes padding down the pavement calmly as you stride with a purpose.

Finding yourself in front of a familiar Kareoke Club, the clerk nods to you.

"Party of one?"

...

Typing in the numbers to the kareoke machine, you take a single breath.

"WHAT. THE. HEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLL~!!!!!"

♤

{Hi! So.. This will be a slight mini project for me, and I would love for some feedback and such! Comments and art are always appreciated! Thank you!]

(Ps: The Ai Hoshino series is on my Qoutev.}

[aziraphales-library]

hello!!!!

Really appreciate all don't work you guys put in for us, I basically find all my fic here. Hope you guys are doing well ❣️ any Cowboy AU would recommend? Prefer rating M/E thank you!!!!

Hi!! We have a #cowboys tag. Not all of these AUs are out-and-out cowboy fics, but they are all in the country/western/ranch arena...

Good Things and Ugly Things by cinnamonsnaps (T)

cowboy/wild west au! Reverend Raphael hasn't gone by his old name in a long, long time. When a tall dark stranger knocks on his door and brings a dire warning, it isn't long before rumours start to spread: what's a holy man doing talking to wanted men? (aziraphale is a preacher, crowley is an infamous gunslinger, and there's a lot of spitting)

Wild Hearts Only Sing to Each Other by theRavenMuse (E)

Crowley is a cattle rustler who's caught the attention of local sheriff Aziraphale, but not the type of attention most would think. Under cover of night, two lovers can be more than what daylight allows.

Is that a can in your pocket or are you just hay-ppy to see me by sixbynine (E)

"He was desperate for a shower; mucking out all the stables had taken him the best part of the day. He’d long ago lost his shirt, unable to handle the fabric sticking wetly to his skin. His hair had been pulled back into a high bun to get as much of it off his face and neck as possible, but the constant movement had shaken wisps loose. It stuck to his neck and forehead and he could feel the rest of the bun threatening to break free. Crowley swiped the towel across his face and neck, dipping down to catch the rivulets of sweat that had gathered along his breastbone as he turned. He groaned at the minor relief the soft towel gave him from the sticky feeling of sweat coating his skin. “Uh,” someone coughed politely. " Crowley is minding his own business when this tall glass of cold water walks in. And he plans to drink deep. Part 1 of The Ranch series

Striking Chords by Ambra_Sue (M)

Anthony Crowley is a country singer a couple of years off his latest almost-hit, itching for something to change. He’s done his best to outrun his demons, but it’s not until he runs into an intriguing blond angel of a man that things start to fall into place. Aziraphale has a successful career, close friends, and more than enough money, but there’s still something missing. When an unexpected arrangement with reckless, ‘work-hard-play-harder’ Crowley crops up, his well-ordered world is changed forever. Can they balance career goals and feelings, and find the perfect rhythm together? Country music AU! This fic was meant for Pride month, and because of that I'll be reccing LGBTQ+ country music artists on each chapter. I built this fic on short chapters to cover as many artists as possible.

Town Meets Country by Angel_of_the_Dawn (M)

Former preacher Azira Fell moves to a small rural town to work as a librarian and meets Anthony Crowley, former drifter turned farmer. Crowley helps Azira come to terms with his past and face the future.

The False and the Fair by Princip1914 (E)

Growing up in the shadow of West Virginia’s Eden Mountain, Aziraphale Wright always expected to work for the family coal mining company. Anthony Crowley, the son of a down-and-out miner, was going to become a pilot and leave town forever. Now, thirty years later, neither of their lives have gone as planned, and an unexpected inheritance brings them back into one another’s orbit. Aziraphale hopes that they can move beyond their shared past, and a high school arrangement that ended in disaster, but he has secrets of his own that threaten their fragile reconnection…

- Mod D

[insomniac4000]

Change of heart- Part 1

Chris' smile faded quickly when he walked into the pub garden and saw the face of the person he least wanted to see.

"What is she doing here?" He spat causing George to roll his eyes.

"Can't you just be civil for a couple of hours?" The younger man asked and Chris shrugged.

"Only if she doesn't start anything."

No one knew exactly why you and Chris didn't like each other, which was a shame as everybody assumed you two would get along you had a similar sense of humour as well as similar interests but the two of you never really clicked in the way everyone had hoped.

You were a musician and Youtuber, as such you had developed a close friendship with Arthur Hill as you two had toured Europe together. Your career had started on Youtube but like most Youtubers your content now and branched away from just music content, also doing vlogs and other content. You had first met Chris when he had invited you to one of his video shoots, you had played football a little bit in school but that was over fifteen years ago and you weren't particularly great even then. Your rising popularity though made you a requested guest however and at the time Chris thought it a great idea although he would come to regret it later.

You were about ten minutes late but it genuinely wasn't your fault as your train had broken down, you would have been fifteen minutes early if it wasn't for this and you were very apologetic when you arrived. You also made a jab about Chris's height when he was doing the intro, while George, both Arthur's and Harry found it hilarious Chris was not amused in the slightest. It was from that moment on Chris decided you were rude and you thought Chris was full of himself.

"Good evening," George chimed out as him and Chris took their seats on the other side of the bench, you were in a pub garden as it was summer time. Your were in an Arthur sandwich, the boys knowing Chris would want to sit as far away from you as possible.

"Hey," you smiled trying to be polite, at least you could be the bigger person you thought.

"How was the shoot?" Arthur Hill asked, you sat there somewhat awkwardly playing with the rim of your wine glass, here we go you thought, another ten minutes of hearing Chris gloat about his football skills. You love to see him in a real premier league match one day to see if he really would perform in the way he thought he would.

"It was good for George to finally put his big head to good use," Chris joked before he started to talk about a great penalty he made.

"I'm going to get a drink," you announced standing up from your perch.

"Pint of Moretti please," George asked as ArthurTV asked for the same, Arthur Hill lifted his half full pint glass letting you know he was okay.

"No thanks I'll get my own," Chris mumbled before going back to his story.

"Suit yourself," you sighed before making your way up to the bar.

"I thought you said you were going to be civil?" George asked looking at the pair of Arthur's who were also looking tired of everything.

"I spoke to her didn't I? I need a drink," Chris got up and went to search for alcohol. Lauren picked up the two beers and glass of wine carefully balancing them in her two hands before turning around and narrowly missing the person behind her.

"Be careful!" Chris scolded stepping back.

"I was nowhere near you, calm down," you clapped back before going back to your shared friends.

Chris was two things when he was drunk, either very hands on or very mean. To y/n he was always the latter. When you came back from talking to a guy on the next table Chris let out a very audible scoff.

"What's your problem?" You had finally had enough of his snark for one evening.

"Don't get too close to me I don't want to catch whatever diseases you've surely picked up," Chris snapped. You put your tongue to the side of your mouth and crossed your arms over your chest.

"Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?" You asked, everyone else on the table looked at each other, these arguments between you and Chris often got very explosive.

"Judging by your dating record it's a miracle you're not down the clinic every weekend," he replied with a smirk on his face.

"Well next time I'm there I'll be sure to say hi," you retorted picked up your jacket.

"What are you doing?" Arthur Hill asked as you threw the jacket over your shoulders with force.

"I'm not staying somewhere where I'm not wanted," you explained placing your arms through the sleeves of your denim jacket.

"There's no need for that," George was the one who was going to try and calm the situation down.

"There is. I'm sorry but I've put up with the shit for too long. If this tiny little excuse for a man is so insecure and petty that he can't even keep his fat gob shut for one hour then I'm done," you cried before grabbing your bag and walking in the direction of the exit. George and the Arthur's all called after you but you ignored them, as long as he was there you weren't going to have anymore to do with it.

"Just what is your problem with her?" Arthur Hill asked the smaller man.

"The only problem I have is that she has a problem with me!" Chris defended himself before picking up his pint.

"I don't buy that, you've had it our for her since day one!" George replied, the two Arthur's nodded.

"If this were primary school you would have pulled her pigtails and pushed her over," ArthurTV joined in.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Chris asked slamming now empty drink down onto the wooden bench, all he wanted to do tonight was go out with his mates and have a laugh but now he was being ganged up on and he wasn't having fun at all.

"I honestly think you like her, she pissed you off and now you're treating her like shit like the petty little man you are," George explained and again both Arthur's nodded in agreement. They all hoped it was a big misunderstanding and the two would kiss and make up, if only they put their bad first impressions aside for ten minutes they would realise the actually had a lot in common. Chris did not take this comment well at all, he could think of a hundred if not a thousand women he would much rather be with.

"Not if the future of humanity depended on it," the curly haired man replied before sulking off to the bathroom.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take guys, we need to get them to talk," an exhausted ArthurTV cried.

"I know. I honestly think he'll like her music if he gave it a chance, I reckon if we bring him to her London show next month he'll have a new appreciation for her," Arthur Hill surmised. He was also playing at the show so it wouldn't be too difficult to get Chris to attend.

"That and if she's on stage at least they won't be round each other to argue," George added in before sighing. He was getting very sick of this too, everyone was.

"Then it's settled."

[jjuwuni]

caught in his web ; choi yeonjun ch. 2 | THREE'S A CROWD!

pairings — yeonjun x afab reader

genre — smut (lots of it so minors dni please), fluff, angst, college!au, friends to lovers, drama

word count (for this chapter) — ~2.8k

summary —  You thought you’d be immune to Choi Yeonjun's charms, turns out you were completely, utterly, shamefully wrong. 

And what’s worse? He’s your new best friend's boyfriend.

Wanna hear something even worse than that? His dad and your mom are dating.

MOA University: An educational institution created for the 1%. The elite of the elites. Those who are to inherit large multinational companies, take oath in office, and represent Korea's future in business and politics. This is where it begins.

warnings — almost-stepbro!yeonjun but not really since your parents are in the early stages of dating, kinda slow burn yes, black haired!yeonjun, bad boy yeonjun, all of you are trust fund babies, all the tubatu's make a cameo and are in the same friend group, might reference some other 4th gen idols, alcohol, drinking, drunken mishaps, lots of sex, profanity - lots of it, yeonjun is a menace but he's so cute wtf i'm screaming, jealousy, making out etc. minors dni istg! i'm watching y'all..

A/N: well, i'm back. i gave a little update here if anyone wants to read it ! as always, reblogs / comments are WELCOME! pls also watch this space for an enha socmed au soon !

taglist (hope you guys don't mind me tagging you all months later hehe, ALSO let me know if you wanna be included in the taglist!) : @soobadooba , @flowerbe0m , @lix-stray , @beomtese , @yxnjvnnie , @healingpage , @hihello-pinky , @kazscara , @bibibun , @txtistheloml , @jungwonismybias, @boba-beom

[ preview ] | [ 1 ]

"HE DID WHAT?!"

Your voice echoes through the car, as you cast a glare over to your best friend who was seated beside you. 

"Yeonjun invited himself, I told him you and I were going to watch a movie and he said he wanted to come," Chaewon replies, unfazed by the fact that you just shouted at her at the back of the limousine you two were riding.

"But you know Friday night movie night is our thing.. Why did he have to come?" Okay, so maybe there were a lot of reasons why you were so against this whole arrangement. 

One, it's the only time you and Chaewon actually bond apart from the time you spend in school. Two, Yeonjun's been shady ever since that dinner with his dad and your mom and THREE, and the most important one, was that you haven't had the heart to face him after the night he took care of you when you got drunk out of your mind.

If you were going to be honest, you're still not even all too sure if that was all a dream or not. Yeonjun never said a word to you after, it was as if nothing happened, really. So one can't blame you for second-guessing if the events were real or not. 

"I couldn't say no to that face, y/n.. So I just let him tag along. And come on, he's practically your brother already." 

You scowl, "I have no such thing. As far as I know, I'm an only child." 

Chaewon rolls her eyes at your response, "Tsk, come on, we're here. I think Jjunie already bought our tickets." 

Taking heavy strides toward the concession booth of the cinema where the male waited for you both, you and him exchange glances and you feel your breath hitch in your throat when he gives you his signature grin.

"Babe!" Chaewon happily greets him, running towards him and enveloping him in a tight hug- to which he returns. His eyes shifted over to you once again though as you stood behind, and your gazes lock even as he was hugging her. 

It looked like he wanted to say something to you, but before he was even able to say anything, you break contact first.

"I'm gonna go get some popcorn.." You say, turning away as fast as you could. 

————-　★　-———— . ————-　★　-———

With reasons unknown to you, Yeonjun insisted he sat between the both of you during the movie. You didn't agree at first, because why?

But Chaewon was all for it.

"You two need to start becoming close if you're going to be a one big happy family in the future!" She persisted, and there was nothing else you could do.

You were sitting there quietly with your eyes focused on the big screen ahead. Lowkey, you were hoping that your best friend and her beau would end up just making out beside you so you could watch the movie in peace.

But lo and behold, the boy had other plans. 

As you were watching, you felt a few pieces of popcorn flicked onto your right cheek. At first, you tried ignoring it, knowing all too well that Yeonjun never really wanted to watch the chick flick in the first place, and has now shifted his attention over to you for his own entertainment. 

“Stop..” You say, turning your attention to him with a piercing glare. 

Yeonjun shook his head, this time taking three pieces altogether with that damned smug look, and threatened to throw it at you. 

But you do the same and flick it his way first. 

“y/n! No fair!” He said in a childish tone that you've never heard before, he was always acting all high and mighty and cool back at school, so that was quite refreshing to hear. 

Soon, you find yourselves in a small popcorn fight, that was, until Chaewon gets hit by one of the stray popcorns, “Hey, you two, stop acting like five-year-olds... I don’t want to get thrown out of here.” She scolded you suddenly, causing you both to halt. 

You end up giggling each time you look at each other all throughout the movie.

It was quite odd, to say the very least. 

Chaewon was right, you were acting like a couple of grade schoolers.

But on the other hand, you’ve never shared a moment quite like that with Yeonjun, and it was actually really cool to see another side to him - the childish, innocent side. 

He was still young after al l- but sometimes one tends to forget that, especially knowing that he’s the inheritor of one of the biggest businesses in Asia and probably the most sought-after guy in school, even though he was just but a Freshman.

With all the attention he has around him, it’s easy to forget that he’s also human. 

————-　★　-———— . ————-　★　-————

The movie ended rather pleasantly, and if going with your Friday night plans, you and Chaewon would usually have dinner in our favorite sushi place.

But as per tonight’s events, Yeonjun will be joining. 

After that small moment you had in the theaters, now you can say that you're a lot more at ease with him, and so you weren't all too against it. 

Not that he’d ever hear you say that, though. 

When the three of you finally managed to situate yourselves in the private VIP room of the restaurant, you were greeted by another well-known face. 

“What are you doing here?” You hear Yeonjun say as you enter, making you look up from whatever it was that caught your attention on your phone.

“Chae invited me, hope you guys don’t mind.” 

“Ah! Soobin!” You exclaimed as you walked over to give him a hug, “Really? You’ll be joining us? Yay!”

“Mhm,” Your best friend affirmed, “I thought you’d be the odd one out y/n, so I just invited Soobin, you know, to make it a double date of sorts.” She said as you all took your seats with the boys sitting right across the both of you. 

All throughout the meal, Yeonjun was a lot quieter than usual. Which came across as something out of the ordinary to you.

You didn’t know if there was something he didn’t like about the food, or that he had expected to be the only guy around, all you know is that he would only be on his phone or giving Chaewon nonchalant responses whenever she attempted to talk to him.

You on the other hand, tried to enjoy it as much as I could, as it was always enjoyable to have someone like Soobin around. 

It was yet another surprise. You weren't expecting that kind of a mood swing. Because for one reason or another, you’ve always seen Yeonjun as someone who was made off of the vine of perfection, always seemingly social and, well - charming.

Not that you acknowledge his charms yourself (or more so, you refuse to), but judging from how people viewed him in school, it was safe to assume that he was someone that could be equated to Adonis or some Greek god- in all aspects. 

————-　★　-———— . ————-　★　-————

Finally, the meal ended and you all went your separate ways. Soobin insisted he’d drive you home though, and you couldn’t resist. 

“Here, let me strap you in.” Soobin said gently as you sat in the passenger seat of his Audi. He then reached over you and pulled at the belt, making sure it was secure around your torso area, flashing his signature, cheeky grin over to you after. 

You couldn’t deny that a gesture such as that would cause your heart to flutter- you don’t think anyone could resist feeling that way anyway. All you could do was mutter out a shy thank you, and soon you were off on our way home. 

“Soobin? Can I ask you something?” 

“Hm, sure y/n.. Anything.” 

You paused, sucking your lower lip in as you hesitated a few times if it was right to ask him or not.

Nevertheless, you went through with it anyway. “Seeing as Yeonjun and I are technically, I don’t know, family?.. Now..” You still couldn’t bring yourself to say those words, but you just pulled through it. “I want to know more things about him.. Like, some things he won’t normally show. I feel like he’s always putting up that bad-boy front. But, I see right through it though.” 

Soobin let out a throaty laugh, his gaze plastered onto the road ahead as he nodded. “You’re a very smart girl, y/n.” He said, “Right, it is a front. I’ve known the guy since we were kids and so.. I can tell you, he’s been through a lot in his life.” 

A small gasp was what came out of your mouth, “Really? Him? I’d think he’s been going through his life with no problems whatsoever.”

“Of course not,” He interjected, “Well, you see. His mom died giving birth to him. And from then on.. His dad’s always been hard on him. I mean, if that happened to you, you can’t help but blame yourself right?”

You could only nod along with him then, “So yeah, his dad always gives him crap about how he’s never going to be good enough to inherit the Choi business. That’s why, if you ask me, he tries to put up a strong front... But at the end of the day, he’s a guy that’s been scrutinized ever since he was born. I don’t think he ever had a conventional childhood, you know? I think it’s why he acts up now.” 

There were so many things he was bringing to light at the moment, and you swore you could hear the wheels turning in your head- as if putting pieces together. “I see… He has it rough, when you put it that way I guess.” 

“Mhm, and if you ask me? Chae… She’s good for him. I think Chae has a grasp of the pressure that kind of life brings, those two are alike in so many ways. Not like we’re not- but what they have on their plates, are much bigger than what you and I have.” 

That’s true. A match made in heaven. You clenched your jaw, “Mm.. I agree.” 

There was a short pause, but soon after, the car smoothly turned right and headed straight to the big gates that were guarding the your family's mansion. 

“Nice place.. I don’t think I’ve ever been here before. Yours is almost as big as Chae’s house huh?” 

You smiled a little, “Yeah I guess.. My grandparents bought a lot of properties before in the 70’s and they gave my mom this whole stretch of land.. The whole house was made from the ground up. Pretty cool, yeah?”

“Hell yeah,” He said, cutting off the engine once you were parked. “It’s a pretty huuuge place for just two ladies to live in.” 

You offer another calm grin, “Thanks for driving me home. I’ll see you in school on Monday, yes?” 

“Definitely, beautiful.” He said, and right on cue, you lean in to place a kiss on his cheek before exiting the vehicle, leaving him with a huge smile on his face. 

————-　★　-———— . ————-　★　-————

The blinding rays of the sun greeted you that morning. You stretched your limbs out over your head and yawned, and went by your usual routine of brushing your teeth as well as washing your bare face. 

As soon as you stepped out of your room, you heard a lot of random noises coming from outside. You were just in a satin slip nightwear, not really expecting much from that weekend morning - except probably breakfast with your mother out by the gazebo area and some Saturday morning cartoons.

Walking down the hall, you suddenly noticed from the other end of the hallway, that one of the primary bedrooms was open.

Your home had three floors, and the last time you checked, you were the only one occupying the upper floor. 

Your curiosity was piqued of course, and you found yourself skipping down the hallway and peeking in at the other bedroom. 

Imagine your surprise when you see Yeonjun standing on one side of the room, putting up some random posters. He was the last person you wanted to see at that point, but seeing him in a muscle tee with his broad shoulders in full display and his whole presence, in general, made your stomach churn in ways you could not pinpoint.

Someone pinch me I must be dreaming. 

You let out a loud gasp of course at the initial shock, and clumsily fell back on your butt onto the carpeted floor as soon as he turned around and saw you.

“CHOI YEONJUN!!” You exclaimed and propped up on your elbows just to verify if you were seeing correctly, your voice loud enough that probably the whole house to hear you, “WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU DOING HERE?!” You asked in an accusing tone, forgetting the fact that you were still on the floor.

He let out a melodic laugh, walking over to help you up. He didn’t say anything just yet as you stood to your feet. 

Instead, his eyes did the talking, scanning you over from head to toe with a subtle grin playing on his lips. 

Suddenly, you felt exposed- as you remembered you were only in your nighties. 

“Y-yah..” You said, placing your arms over your chest and crossing them there. Your back hunched as well while your eyes threw him a glare. “Talk.”

Yeonjun reached back and rubbed his nape with his hand, “Ah, well, I guess your mom wanted to surprise you but uh - dad and I.. We - she asked us to move in here.” That dumb sheepish smile evident throughout his explanation.

“SHE WHAT?!”

“You heard me..” He said, taking a step forward and closing in the gap between you two. That signature Choi Yeonjun lopsided grin still present, “I live here with you now.”

————-　★　-———— . ————-　★　-————

It took quite a while to get you to settle down after hearing Yeonjun’s words. 

You sat there at the edge of his newly-installed king sized bed, arms still crossed over your chest as you were still trying to make sense of what is happening. 

You pursed your lips in a tight line, throwing him another accusing glance as he stood in front of you, waiting for you to talk with a satisfied smile on his face. "So.." You start the ball rolling, "Explain to me, Choi Yeonjun..." You let out an exasperated huff, "Explain to me how someone like you, someone whose father owns most of the properties here in South Korea and everywhere all over the globe, decided to live here. Here. In my house?!" You practically squeak.

Yeonjun licked his lips, tracing his tongue over his pink bud while his gaze never left you, eyes still unabashedly roaming up and down, like he was about to devour you whole. "y/n, you don't know what you're fully capable of, do you?" 

"I'm sorry, what?" You asked in a half-surprised, half-offended tone. At the time, you didn’t know what he was hinting at, and the fact that he was trying to divert the conversation irked you to no end.

"Aha nevermind.." He retorted, clearing his throat, "Anyway, it's simple really." Yeonjun said matter-of-factly, sitting beside you on the mattress. "Dad wanted to renovate our house and make it bigger... And since he and your mom are dating, she offered to let us stay here until the construction is over." 

Okay great, this is temporary. You tell yourself, letting out a sigh of relief. 

“And then afterwards, I heard your mom say she’ll think about a trial period wherein you two will live with us.” 

You choke on pure air, “What?! What is this, an experiment? And isn’t this living situation already some type of trial period? Where’s mom.. I need a word with her. This is really taking it too far! She’s known your dad for what- two fucking months?!” You started rambling, standing up and pacing back and forth in front of the bed. 

Suddenly, Yeonjun’s warm hands wrap around your exposed shoulders as he spins you around to face him. His palms radiated a kind of warmth that your skin welcomed, as you felt it tingle under his own flesh. You merely stare at him with a doe-eyed look, and he returned it with his calm gaze. “Your mom left for Italy, remember?” 

He flicked your forehead, laughing. “Now just relax, y/n,” He cooed, “I’ll be out the whole weekend, I’m going on a trip with the guys to allow people to move my things in.. So, I’ll see you Monday then hm?”  

And as quick as he left a peck on your forehead, he was gone in a flash- leaving you standing lifeless in the middle of the room.

[ze-writing-qprs]

Alastor x GN!Reader - 1

Headcanons [QPR 🩷]

Alastor and Reader are both Aroace

Queer-Platonic Relationship (Do NOT read as romantic, I will beat you with a stick)

a little fluffly n cute

Nothing is meant to sound or be s*xual (I am aroace and some stuff I say comes off that when I don't mean for it too)

PART 2

TW: Part 2 will have mention of cannibalism (it's Alastor guys)

PART 1

You have known each other for a while

The transfer from friends to being in a queer-platonic relationship was slow and natural over the years

Alastor became more comfortable with you

Obviously this isn’t a ‘normal’ relationship, but you both wouldn’t trade it for anything else

You enjoy just being in his captivating presence

Alastor finds you to be enjoyable to speak to

Even if you aren't able a hold a conversation well, you could talk to him for hours

Whether this be back and forth or just one listening to the other

Comfortable silence is a must

You like to hangout in the radio tower with him while he does his broadcasts

Sitting down doing your own thing or watching him

If you go out for drinks you either have a group conversation with someone, speak between yourselves, or have seperate conversations right next to each other

Rarely does one leave the other’s side

If someone you are talking to has a comment particularly “gossipable” about you cast each other a side glance that says: “We are definitely talking about this later.”

Alastor and you gossip with Rosie all. the. time. (gossip buddies unite)

Eyes speak louder than words, you can almost communicate telepathically with how easy it is to read each other

You have matching Ace rings (Charlie thought you were married at first)

You had to explain what being Asexual and Aromantic was to Alastor (Unless Rosie had already)

Queer-platonic relationships too

He asked if that “Describes the two of us” (How to get into a QPR 101 lesson right here guys)

Your response was asking “Would you like it to?”

Took him a few days to think about it for sure

First ever slowburn QPR recorded in history

Boundaries were basically the first thing talked about after that

Mainly agreed to just ask before doing anything and the rest stayed the same from your friendship

You have been allowed to pet his ears at least once

If you have a phone he MIGHT let you take a picture with him if you really, really want him to

It may not seem like it, but he takes a keen interest in your hobbies as well as behaviors

“How did it go?”

“Do you need me to get you more of this?”

“Are you feeling alright?"

He holds doors open for you

You wanted to do this for him as well

He find this adorable

So now it's a race of who can be the polite one

You keep score (It’s a tie so far)