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sparklingchim · 8 months ago

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game on | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2.2k

tropes: footballer!jungkook, fake dating, f2l

rating: pg

warnings: koo gets scolded for sleeping around 🥺, playboy jk <3, hints of a threesome 🫢, oc fights w a laundry machine

summary: jungkook is in desperate need to polish up his playboy image, and naturally, he turns to you for help.

a/n: hii my pretty besties!!!! it's my bday😋 so i wanted to share this silly piece i've been having so much fun writing!!! love uuu n treat urself to smth nice for me today <3 mwah😙

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Jeon Jungkook is a charming man – and he is well aware of the fact. He plays that card effortlessly.

Most of the time, it works in his favour. Gets him what he wants, opens doors, soften blows.

But sometimes, it backfires. Spectacularly.

Which is why, right now, he’s standing in front of his fuming manager, who is radiating enough anger to fill the entire office.

The sight isn’t foreign to Jungkook. He wouldn’t say he is used to it, but he has found himself often enough in this situation to recognise the signs of deep trouble.

It’s not just Jungkook’s charm that’s making things complicated. It’s also the fact that he is famous.

He doesn’t flaunt it – never brags, never name-drops. That’s not his thing. But he’s not stupid either. His name (dare he say it) carries a bit of weight, and he’s learned how to use it. Quietly. Casually. Just enough to make things go his way.

Bending the world to his will... until the world pushes back.

And right now, it’s pushing back hard.

One thing Jeon Jungkook does enjoy about being a pro footballer, though, is the way women obsess over him.

He knows they love him – sees it in the comments they leave on his ig posts, sees it in the DMs flooding his inbox daily, and experiences it firsthand at public events, where hordes of fans scream his name. Jungkook thrives on that attention.

However, something he doesn’t love, and what he was never prepared for, is the media. The way they scrutinise his every move, how his face ends up on every headline anytime he does something remotely noteworthy.

And now, thanks to his latest shenanigan getting caught by the press, here he is. Getting chewed out by Taesung, his manager, while Jiwoo from PR watches with that tight-lipped expression that always means bad news.

Jungkook’s eyes are downcast, bracing himself for the scolding that’s already begun.

“You’ve gone too far this time, Jungkook.”

His manager speaks in a flat, monotonous voice, void of even the slightest hint of disappointment, as if he’d long since given up expecting anything different.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to clean up the mess you leave behind?”

A sense of guilt creeping up on Jungkook, even though he knows if he were just a regular guy, none of this would matter at all. And he finds it a bit unfair.

But to survive in this business, you can’t complain about unfairness.

“Have you completely lost your mind?” Taesung barks.

Jungkook remains silent. He forces himself to.

“If there was more involved than just alcohol-”

“No! Nothing like that,” he denies, his response firm and immediate. “It was just alcohol – and, well, just good vibes because we won the last match, and with the World Cup being next, everyone was just really excited.”

If he had known what kind of trouble a simple, innocent celebration of his team’s win at a club would bring, he would’ve gone straight home yesterday. He would’ve skipped the rounds of drinks, the flashing lights, the loud music, and definitely the attention. But hindsight was useless now.

“Good,” his manager says. “I’m glad you were happy.” Mock sympathy drips from his voice. “Perhaps the last time you are going to be happy this year.”

Jungkook nods, accepting the gravity of the situation. No more clubs, no more parties, no more girls.

At least, not for a while. His reputation had taken a few hits recently, and this latest mess wasn’t helping. He could almost hear the whispers: reckless, irresponsible, unprofessional. The kind of things that could ruin him if he didn’t get a handle on it.

He clenched his jaw. No more distractions. From now on, it was all about the game. He needed to remind everyone why he was Jeon Jungkook — the best on the field, not just the headlines.

“You’re no longer in for the World Cup. You’re out.”

His head snaps up at that. Did he hear that right?

“What?! What do you mean?”

“Myungbo doesn’t want you on the team anymore.” Taesung’s words sound heavy and final.

Jungkook’s heart pounds in his ears.

His world tilts. The room seems to spin, the edges of his vision darkening. This wasn’t just a setback — it was a disaster. The World Cup was everything to him, and now it felt like it was slipping through his fingers. The crushing weight of the news settles on his chest, making it hard to breathe. One silly night is all that happened.

He can’t believe that a single photo of him leaving the club with two girls clinging to each arm has cost him his spot on the national football team. He went home with two girls – so what?

But he doesn’t voice his frustration. He knows better than to add fuel to the fire. Speaking his mind now would only escalate the situation and make things worse. Jungkook knows from experience.

He swallows hard, forcing himself to stay calm. His pulse is still racing, but he takes a deep breath, focusing on controlling his emotions. He has to keep a level head if he’s going to find a way to fix this.

“There has to be a way to fix this.” His eyes move to Jiwoo, his PR agent. “Right?”

His manager fixes him with a stern glare. “Jungkook, remember the promise you gave everyone a few months ago?” Taesung reminds him.

Jungkook cringes. When he made a promise to avoid actions that might damage his reputation, he didn’t think it’d be that serious. He cut back on going out, made the effort to play the role of the “good boy” but really – come on. He can’t maintain that facade for an eternity. Especially after a triumphant victory like yesterday’s.

Taking away his spot on the national football team? He didn’t think that was possible.

“How many more times do we have to fix your problems, because you don’t care enough? How many times do we have to repeat this scenario?”

“I promise I’ll better myself,” Jungkook pleads desperately, looking back and forth between the two of them. Someone has to believe him, help him.

“Do you genuinely believe this country wants to be represented by a 20-year-old boy, who can’t keep his personal life under control?” Taesung asks, eyebrows deeply pinched together. “This isn’t just about you, Jungkook. It’s about the team, the fans, and the nation. They need a role model, not a scandal waiting to happen.”

“I know. I know.” Jungkook scrambles for something convincing to say, desperate to sway their decision. This can’t be it. He won’t let his career take a hit because of something like this. “But – but this isn’t too bad. This is fixable. I can fix this.” His voice quivers with a desperation he barely recognises as his own. “Jiwoo.” Jungkook turns to her with pleading eyes. “You always know what to do. Please, help me?”

“I did propose an idea but-”

“We’re not doing that,” Taesung cuts in. “It’s off the table.”

“What is it?” Jungkook’s eyes bounce back and forth between them. “I’ll do anything. This is – this is everything to me. You have to give me a chance.”

Taesung scoffs. “A chance? As far as I know, you have been given countless chances.”

Sweat coats the back of Jungkook’s neck.

Taesung understands just how much Jungkook has fought to secure his place on the national team. He’s well aware that it’s one of Jungkook’s greatest dreams, a pinnacle of his career that he’s poured countless hours of hard work and sacrifice into. That’s why, each morning, when he wakes up to the latest news of Jungkook’s escapades, he feels a deep sense of disappointment, texting Jungkook with a dejected shake of his head to visit his office first thing in the morning.

When it’s all he wants, like Jungkook claims, why doesn’t he act like it?

“If the head coach won’t give me a chance now, he’ll never do. This is my last opportunity to change his mind, make him rethink. I need to at least try.”

Jiwoo looks at Taesung, waiting for his approval. He nods.

“Very simply put: you need a girlfriend,” she says.

For a second, Jungkook is at loss for words.

“A girlfriend? How’s that going to help?” Jungkook tilts his head in confusion. This is not how he thought Jiwoo was going to save him.

“You need a girlfriend to help polish up your image as a player. It’ll make you appear more like a gentleman, softer and nicer. We need to completely shift public perception and counter the negative image they’ve formed about you. It’s all about changing the narrative,” she explains.

“And that is not something we can easily achieve,” Taesung interjects. “Rebranding your entire persona is not feasible at this stage. You’ve been projecting what kind of boy you are to the media for the past two years. It’s going to be incredibly difficult to make a sudden shift look genuine.”

“No! We — I can make it seem real. This is my only chance,” Jungkook insists, his voice gaining a hint of determination. For a moment, breathing feels a bit easier again. “The World Cup is just two months away. That’s enough time to shift public opinion and prove I’m worthy of representing the country on the team.” There’s a hopeful lilt in his voice as he speaks, clinging to the belief that he might not have to bid farewell to his biggest dream after all.

But Taesung doesn’t look as hopeful as Jungkook feels.

“How are we going to find a girl who will agree to this? Someone who isn’t an obsessive fan, understands this is purely professional, and can keep quiet? You won’t be able to pull this off.”

“I was actually thinking-” Jiwoo starts, but she’s cut off.

Jungkook hesitates, glancing between them before speaking. “Actually... I think I already have someone in mind.” His voice is more measured now. “That’s not the issue.” Jungkook doesn’t need to think twice.

Taesung sighs while Jiwoo looks at Jungkook apologetically.

“You can’t rebrand your entire persona from a playboy to a lover boy within a month, Jungkook. This is over.” His manager shakes his head, a sense of finality glimmering in his eyes.

One thing that Jungkook forgot to mention is that he is an extremely competitive man, too.

“This is ridiculous.”

You kick the laundry machine in frustration, but all you end up doing is yelping and clutching your aching foot.

“That’s the third time this month,” you mutter under your breath. “What did I even spend all that money on if it’s just going to break down whenever it feels like it?”

You shoot a death glare at the machine, teetering on the edge of losing your mind.

“Guess I’ll have to use the public laundromat again,” you sigh, grabbing the overflowing laundry basket filled with your and your roommate's clothes, and heading out of the bathroom with a huff.

On your way to the front door, the doorbell rings.

Please, you think. You were hoping for some quiet, uninterrupted time to deep-clean your dorm on this peaceful Sunday with no one around.

But when you peek through the peephole and see Jungkook standing there, your frustration melts away. You swing the door open, the laundry basket tumbling to the floor beside you in your haste.

“Jungkook!” you exclaim. “You’re timing is perfect! Can you please fix my laundry machine again? It’s been acting up, and I’m getting frustrated.” You groan annoyed.

Jungkook doesn’t share the same excitement upon seeing you.

You grow smaller and take an indecisive step back.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, noticing the tension in his features. “Did you lose the match yesterday? I couldn’t keep up because I had too much cramming to do last night.”

While studying medicine had always been your dream, the reality is less exciting. Right now, it means sleepless nights and relentless pressure. You know that pursuing this path will offer you many privileges later in life, but you have to suffer first.

“I need your help.”

His dark eyes, usually bright and full of energy, seem clouded with worry, and his hair falls messily over his forehead, like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times in frustration.

“Are you okay?” You study him closely, scanning his face for any signs of injury. Physically, he seems fine — still tall, muscular, and as fit as ever. But something is clearly off.

“You need to do something for me.”

“I can help,” you reply, your voice soft with concern. ‘But what is it…?”

“Don’t call me crazy for it.”

“Just tell me.”

“Can you be my girlfriend?”

You blink, repeatedly.

“Huh?”

You start giggling when he doesn’t add more. You expect him to clarify or laugh along, but Jungkook stays serious, stepping closer and gently taking your hands in his. You look down at them, then back up at his face, utterly bewildered.

“You’re silly, Jungkook. If someone on the team made you do this, tell them you did the punishment and quit acting so weird.”

It’s too early in the morning for Jungkook’s nonsense.

“No, ___, you don’t understand.” He squeezes your hands when he feels you trying to pull them back. “I actually need you to do it.”

“Do what?”

“Fake date me.”

#jungkook drabble #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x you #jungkook imagine #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts #bts scenario #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts x you #bts x reader

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tsunodaradio · 3 days ago

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miss possessive ⛐ 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙙

dating a driver is not for the faint of heart. when they've got millions of eyes on them—well, you can't be blamed if you're a little possessive, can you? (𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳)

ꔮ starring: yuki tsunoda, oscar piastri, lando norris, isack hadjar, carlos sainz, alex albon, george russell, charles leclerc. ꔮ word count: 4.4k. ꔮ includes: romance, fluff, humor/crack. cussing; mentions of alcohol consumption, food; suggestive content. established relationships, jealousy. ꔮ commentary box: was amused with the amount of requests i got in my inbox for tate mcrae's miss possessive, so i opted for this format. technically part of my this is: f1 event. format inspired by wttcsms match my freak; all/most of these were conceptualized with the love of my life, @norrisradio. shoutout to @binisainz for coming up with the carlos one. 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

❤︎ YUKI TSUNODA.

Everyone is talking about the new video with that celebrity chef who made it pretty far in Culinary Class Wars. It’s part of Red Bull’s marketing plan. Humanizing the drivers, presenting them a little differently. Except the marketing that the video got was all about Yuki’s ‘chemistry’ with said chef. How his eyes light up when he talks about the linguine, how he asks all the right questions about the pasta-making process. You know better. Your boyfriend is always just enthusiastic when it comes to food. People see it differently, though. They see a ship that’s about to sail.

The next day, there’s a new addition to Yuki’s Instagram bio. ‘🇯🇵 F1 Driver #YT22’ has always been there, but now there’s also an @’d account. It leads to an account that says Followed by yukitsunoda0511 and yourusername. @yukiyoueatstheworld has posts from months worth of culinary adventures; it seems to have only gone public recently, though. Everybody now gets to enjoy snaps of street food and Michelin star dishes, as enjoyed—and rated—by you and Yuki. The most recent post features an adorable selfie of you two sharing pasta, Lady and the Tramp style. The caption: “food is always better when it’s with the one you love 😜”

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

You’re still chewing—grudgingly—when Yuki sets down another plate in front of you.

“It’s not that deep,” he says, nudging the fork closer to your hand. “You know I only look at food like that.”

You hum around your mouthful, refusing to make it easier for him. “I’m just saying, if anyone saw the way you looked at that risotto…”

Yuki cuts you off with a grin. “You’re going to leave a bad review on a Michelin restaurant because I complimented the chef?”

You shoot him a withering glare. “I might.”

“That’s petty.”

“It’s well-deserved.”

He laughs and reaches across the table to smear a bit of mascarpone on your nose. You let out an indignant sound, but it dies in your throat when you see the look of sheer affection on your boyfriend’s face. “You’re so cute when you’re jealous,” he hums as he cuts into his antipasti.

You scrunch your face before swiping a piece of focaccia from his plate. He usually protests; today, he lets you. “I’m not jealous,” you insist. “I’m… skeptical. Of her plating technique.”

“Oh, absolutely. Very suspicious.” Yuki nods solemnly, then breaks into another grin when you roll your eyes.

He doesn’t say anything else, just leans back and watches you eat like you didn’t just threaten a scathing review out of spite. It’s not like Yuki can do anything if you want to give the celebrity chef’s plating two out of five stars. He’ll defend your opinion like it’s his own.

You keep chewing. Still petulant. Still pretending you didn’t just melt a little under his loving glances.

The pasta is annoyingly good.

❤︎ OSCAR PIASTRI.

They say Oscar has been ‘caught in 4K’ with the way the moment is taken from multiple angles. When the interviewer asks him about clinching pole in qualifying, she’s just a little too coy about it. Pitching her voice low so that Oscar is forced to lean in. Dragging out the conversation with intentional ‘uhm’s and ‘sorry, wait’s. The cherry on top is when she reaches over the barrier to pat Oscar’s arm, congratulating him for a job well done. It’s nothing overt, but the intention is there. More eagle-eyed fans can sense his slight discomfort underneath the veneer of politeness. This journalist thought she could flirt with your boyfriend and get away with it.

Kym Illman snaps the photo of Oscar coming into the paddock for race day. This time, though, Oscar is not in the McLaren team kit or his usual plain shirt. No, today, it’s something that means to send a message: a white tee with something you can only see when you zoom in. If you can read this, you’re too close. That, in itself, is already a dig to what had unfolded the day prior. But the cherry on top is the friendship bracelet resting snug around Oscar’s wrist, the one that he only takes off for the race but immediately puts right back on the moment he finishes P1. The orange-and-white bracelet features beads of ‘OP81’, a heart, and your initials. In that order. He makes sure it’s visible in every interview he does.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

You find him leaning against one of the garage walls, arms crossed, still flushed from all the post-race adrenaline.

“You actually wore it,” you say, crossing your arms to match his stance. The shirt you left out for him this morning had fit just right, annoyingly so, the text across his chest cheeky and perfectly timed.

Oscar shrugs, but there’s a tiny smirk playing on his lips. “Thought it was funny. Also very effective.”

You raise an eyebrow, toeing the line between amused and exasperated. “That shirt was a joke,” you point out, even though it wasn’t really.

“Worked, though.” He steps closer, just enough that you can smell the familiar scent of his cologne. Something citrusy and clean. “She didn’t even try this time.”

You roll your eyes, though the corner of your mouth betrays you with the start of a smile. Your fingers flick at the bracelet peeking from beneath his fireproofs. It’s not Oscar’s style, and it’s not something he’d ever donned before, either.

“And this?” you ask, amused. “When did you find the time?”

Oscar looks down at it like he’s seeing it for the first time. His voice is a little more hesitant when he says, “Made it last night. After you fell asleep.”

“You spent your pre-race night making a friendship bracelet?”

He shrugs again, trying to play it off, but there’s a tell—he’s always been bad at hiding how soft he gets with you. “It’s not just any bracelet. It’s got my name. And yours. And a heart, if you haven’t noticed.”

You had. Of course you had.

You reach out and tug gently at his wrist, letting your thumb brush the beads. “You’re such a sap.”

Oscar tries—and fails—to fight back his grin. “Only for you,” he says, taking the opportunity to pull you into his side.

“Am I not ‘too close’?” you jab.

He buries his face in your hair, muffling his chuckle. “No,” he breathes. “Never close enough.”

❤︎ LANDO NORRIS.

It breaks the internet, the music video. It’s the Tate McRae Sports Car of everyone’s dream. Think Sabrina Carpenter; think Charli xcx. The scantily clad starlet croons filth and flirtation as she drapes herself over Lando’s sports car. Your boyfriend is the music video’s leading man, bringing the heat to this 1080p, high definition sequence of the hottest song on the charts. It trends for days and gets edited a dozen different ways. The popstar gushes about Lando being such a good actor, and when she’s asked about off-screen romance? She winks at the camera and fucking grins.

Lando’s Instagram story is up for only 30 minutes. That’s all it takes. People speculate that his PR team advised him to take him down, but the truth of the matter is that Lando just liked messing with people. Make something seem forbidden and it’s suddenly a whole lot more interesting. The story is straightforward: a mirror selfie from the corner of his hotel bed. His phone, partially obscuring his face. And you, sitting in his lap, your face buried into the side of his neck as he wraps his free arm around your waist. You’re both fully clothed, but the lights are low enough to suggest that may change soon enough. Lando makes sure to slap the pop star’s song on to the story, just for extra measure. Talk about breaking the internet.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

“Hold still,” Lando mutters, his thumb hovering over the shutter button. His other hand is curled around your waist, half-supporting you as you rest against him.

You’re mid-protest, shifting like you want to hide your face completely. “Norris, I swear to God—”

But the click comes anyway. Too late. He’s already captured it: the mess of his curls, the afterglow softening both your features, the sheets curling around you like a premonition.

He doesn’t even bother asking for approval. The man has the audacity to upload it right there, the faint sound of the Instagram story whoosh confirming your doom. “Bit shy now, are we?” he teases, pulling back so he can flash you that infuriating grin of his. “Had so much to say about the music video earlier, though.”

Your eyes narrow. The story had been his idea, hastily snapped to appease you after you ranted for 27 minutes straight. “You’re unbelievable,” you grit out.

Lando just shrugs, absolutely unapologetic. “You were so fired up. Kept saying how she was really committed to whoring out on the car bonnet.”

“That was not what I said.”

“Oh, I remember the exact words. Something about how ‘no one should be allowed to sing about leather like that.’”

That’s it. That’s the last straw.

You pounce, wrestling him back down onto the mattress with a growl. He could fight back, but Lando’s joy in life was riling you up. He goes willingly, laughing breathlessly as your legs tangle, as your fingers curl in the front of his shirt.

“Fucking menace,” you say, voice low against his skin.

His breath hitches when your teeth graze his pulse point, but his hands are already slipping underneath your shirt. “And you love it,” he sing-songs.

You’d deny him, but then he snaps the clasp of your bra and you figure there are other ways to teach him a lesson.

❤︎ ISACK HADJAR.

Isack has been spending a lot of time with his socials team. He’s the bread and butter of VCARB’s social media strategy, with his easy disposition, humorous takes, and uncanny ability to lipsync trending audios. You’ve never been one to get particularly jealous of your boyfriend’s co-workers, but you swear the social media intern is pushing it just the teensiest bit. How she keeps Isack around a little longer, how she’ll use the team account to comment flirty replies under his posts. The team account! The Internet is calling it a Wattpad story in the making.

And so Isack gives them a story. A TikTok, specifically, where he hard launches the girlfriend nobody knew he had. You and him do the (500) Days of Summer trend in the paddock. ‘I love The Smiths,’ you mouth. ‘Sorry?’ he syncs, feigning hard of hearing. ‘I said ‘I love The Smiths’,’ you say smilingly, and then he goes in for the kill. Isack grabs your face with both his hands and kisses you so hard, he sends the two of you out of the frame. It becomes VCARB’s most shared video of the month. And the social media intern? Well, she had to write the caption for it.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

You’re both sprawled out on the couch in the hospitality suite, your phone held high above your heads. The numbers keep climbing—thousands of views per second. Someone’s already edited the video into a compilation of top ten F1 driver couple moments. Someone else posted a slow-mo of the kiss with a Lana Del Rey track layered over it.

You groan, partly from secondhand embarrassment, partly from pride. “This is your fault.”

“My fault?” Isack smirks, elbow propped behind his head, looking far too satisfied for someone who almost knocked you over in a public display of affection. “You’re the one who picked a fight over a TikTok comment.”

You glare at him. “She put a heart and a fire emoji! From the team account!”

“Which I have no control over,” he reminds you, gently prying your phone from your hand so he can scroll through the comments. “Wow. People really love us. We should do this more often.”

“Don't get any ideas.”

He shifts so his head rests on your stomach, the promise ring you got him glinting in the light. “Hear me out: couples who trend together, stay together. We could do the Spider-Man kiss one next. Or that thing where I pretend to ignore you and you throw a shoe at me.”

“Why would I pretend?”

Isack laughs, bright and boyish, and you can’t help it—you laugh too. The tension from earlier melts like it was never there. You run your fingers through his curls, still slightly messy from the day, and he closes his eyes in quiet satisfaction.

“Thanks for the hard launch,” you say, quieter now.

He cracks one eye open. “Anytime. Especially if it means I get to kiss you like that again.”

You throw a pillow at his face. It’s not a no.

❤︎ CARLOS SAINZ.

The DJ plays Smooth Operator, because when race winner Carlos Sainz is on the dance floor, you just have to. You watch from a couple of paces away, a small smile on your face. You don’t want to take away your boyfriend’s spotlight; not now, not tonight. And so you watch him scream-sing with his team, watch him drunkenly sway from one side to another. But then somebody approaches him. One of those influencers who had lingered on the fringes this whole time. She shimmies, falls into step, gets into his space. A little too close for comfort. Your eyes narrow.

When the night winds to a close, the paparazzi snaps a couple damning photos of Carlos, who looks thoroughly debauched. His hair, a mess; his gaze, slightly unfocused. The real headline is in the collar of his unbuttoned polo shirt. Against the crisp, white material are lipstick marks that weren’t there when the party started. He’s holding your hand as the two of you clamber into the back of a cab, which is a good enough indication of who got him in this state. To sweeten the deal, though, you pucker your mouth and shoot the press a flying kiss—showing off just how smudged your lipstick is.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Carlos catches your wrist as you pass him by, his fingers warm and grounding against your pulse. You look at him. He’s watching you with that gaze he reserves for moments when the crowd is too loud and you’re the only thing that still makes sense.

“Alright?” he murmurs, but he knows the answer.

You jerk your head toward the girl who’s still hanging around, watching him like she’s waiting for another opening. “She’s annoying,” you mutter.

Carlos quirks an eyebrow. “You’re jealous.”

A muscle in your jaw ticks. “You’re mine, aren’t you?” you prompt, and he endeavors to prove it.

He doesn’t drag you—he never would—but he doesn’t let go either, threading your fingers together as he leads you through the crowd and into the dim, flickering hallway that leads to the bar’s back bathrooms. The music is muffled here, bass leaking through the walls like a distant heartbeat.

He pushes open the door and pulls you into a cubicle, locking it behind you with a quiet click. Your back hits the wall, and you’re on him in an instant. Carlos doesn’t flinch. He accepts your bruising kiss, accepts the way you bite a little at his bottom lip, the way your hands tug at his shirt like you can’t stand the idea of him wearing it any longer.

“You wanna leave your mark?” he whispers between kisses. “Go ahead.”

You pause, breathless. There was a reason why hickeys were off-limits between the two of you. “I don’t want to get you in trouble,” you mumble against his lips. “The cameras—”

“My shirt is white,” Carlos says plainly. “Yours for the taking, mi vida.”

You don’t need more convincing. Your lips find his collar, your hands pulling the fabric closer to you. The first kiss is almost tender, but when his fingers slide beneath your hem and stroke your waist with that infuriating calm, you do it again. And again. And again, and again.

He exhales sharply, clutching at you like you’re the only thing anchoring him to the moment. “That’s it,” he praises lowly, eyes fluttering shut. “Just like that.”

It’s not about possessiveness. Not really. It’s about claiming a moment in a night that had started to spiral. And when you finally pull back to admire your handiwork—deep red smudges stamped along his collar like a constellation—Carlos grins dazedly. A little wrecked, entirely yours.

“Now,” he says, brushing a thumb along your jaw. “Let’s go show them who I’m going home with.”

❤︎ ALEX ALBON.

There’s an F1A driver who calls herself Alex’s biggest fan. It’d been cute, at first, to have someone so openly supportive of your boyfriend. He had been benevolent and properly flattered, too, exchanging a couple of comments here and there with the sweet girl. But then the Internet had to go and claim you and Alex were over, that you’d been replaced by this someone who had more similar interests with him. A single formulafakers tweet out of context is all it takes for the two of them to go trending. The F1A driver doesn’t correct anyone. She just giggles, like she knows something no one else does, and that’s what gets you.

Alex doesn’t say anything about the rumors. Well, not directly. But at the next race, he announces a special helmet—his most gorgeous one so far, in your honest opinion. The first photos have him showing it off, have closeups of the details, but you’re modeling it in the last picture of the slideshow. People quickly make the connections. The little doodles? The heritage references? They all go back to you. A sure win this weekend, he says in the caption, because I’ve got this one with me. The F1A driver leaves a comment about it being sooo cute. Alex doesn’t respond.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Alex finds you in the motorhome, still in your oversized hoodie and bike shorts, scrolling through the avalanche of reactions from his announcement. He’s got his phone in one hand and that ridiculous, gorgeous helmet in the other—the one everyone’s talking about.

“Alright,” he says, grinning. “Get up. I need more photos.”

You blink up at him. “Didn’t you already post the best one?”

“Yeah, but that was for the fans. I want a few just for me.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re already getting up, walking over to where the natural light hits just right. He hands you the helmet, watching with quiet satisfaction as you settle it over your head, adjusting it with practiced ease.

“Always planned to do this, by the way,” he adds casually, snapping a quick photo. “A special helmet for you. It was part of the whole reveal thing. But if it gets me out of the doghouse early…”

Your laugh is muffled by the helmet, but he hears it anyway. “You think a few photos are going to make me forget Miss F1A and her winky emojis?”

He lowers his phone for a second. “No,” he says simply. “But you wearing this? Making it obvious? It helps. And hey—she left a comment. I ignored it. That’s growth.”

You give him a look through the visor, a silent oh, really? He steps closer, phone camera raised again. “Come on. Tilt your head a bit. Perfect. Now smile—well, smirk. Yeah, like that.”

Click. Click.

“And maybe one more when we get back to the hotel.”

“More?”

“In nothing but my helmet. I need a new lockscreen, baby.”

You tug the helmet off, hair a mess, cheeks warm. “You’re ridiculous.”

Alex just grins and lifts the helmet again. “No. I’m yours. Big difference.”

❤︎ GEORGE RUSSELL.

You love George for being a gentleman. It’s one of his most endearing qualities, and you’d never fault him for it. But there are some days, some instances, when you wish you could tell him to shove his chivalry up his—anyway. Today, it’s because of the stupid Adidas Climacool jacket that’s supposed to be exclusively for George and Kimi. The press catches wind of Mercedes’ PR girl wearing it, and George easily confesses to handing it off because of how infertile the Saudi Arabia heat is. You would’ve let it go, but then you found yourself staring at the girl’s tweets posing with the jacket like it was some badge of honor. Like borrowing something of George’s was a right.

You waltz into the paddock dressed head to toe in clothes that are just a little bit ill-fitting. The shirt has been repurposed into a crop top. The jeans have to be held up with a chunky belt; its hems, folded a couple of times. George has his hands on your shoulders, and he maneuvers you to face every camera that you pass. He’s absolutely beaming, and his shit-eating grin is explained when one paparazzi asks who you’re wearing. ‘Me!’ George hollers happily. ‘She’s wearing me, mate. Hope that helps!’

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

George is already propped against the headboard when you emerge from the bathroom in nothing but a towel and a mission. Your eyes flick to the suitcase in the corner of the room, and before he can say anything, you’re rifling through it with the efficiency of a woman scorned by PR.

George has to stifle his giggle. “You know I would’ve given it to you first if I knew you’d turn this into a full-blown war,” he drawls.

You ignore him, lifting a shirt and eyeing it with mild disgust. “This one’s got sponsor logos all over it,” you sniffle. “I want to wear you, not advertise you.”

He chuckles, setting his book down. “So, just my scent, not my salary? Got it.”

You toss a sock at his face.

Eventually, George slides out of bed, joining you at the open suitcase. He pulls out a dark polo, slightly too large, and lifts an eyebrow. “What about this? Tuck it in, roll the sleeves. Turn it into a crop top. You could make it work. You make everything work.”

You accept the shirt reluctantly, narrowing your eyes. “You just want me in something tight so you can gawk.”

“Absolutely,” he agrees without shame. “In fact, now that you mention it, maybe you should try it on. Right now. Just so I know it’s… media-ready.”

You snort, but the defiance in your spine begins to soften. He leans against the dresser, arms crossed, eyes following your every movement.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he coaxes. “Give me a little fashion show. Maybe spin once or twice. Strut. It’s important for team morale.”

You mutter something about how bloody perverted he is, but the grin you try to suppress betrays you. You slip on the polo. And yes, you roll the sleeves. George lets out a low whistle, eyeing how you’re wearing nothing but his shirt.

“You look obscene,” he declares proudly. “I’m going to have to fight off the photographers.”

You cross your arms. “Don’t you mean PR girls?”

His eyes gleam. “Not if you keep wearing me like this.”

You shake your head, but let him tug you closer, his hands slipping under the hem of the shirt to trace lazy circles on your hips. Just like that, the argument begins to dissolve into something else entirely.

❤︎ CHARLES LECLERC.

Everyone on Twitter assumes Charlie is dating this Hungarian model. A pretty face, new to Monaco. All the signs point to her being Charlie’s lover—the biggest clue being her place of residence. It doesn’t take too long for the Internet to realize the two live in the same apartment building. Sure, they’ve never been pictured coming or going together, but isn’t the chase part of the thrill? There’s one too many TikToks and Instagram reels trying to figure out a timeline, trying to place when and where they meet if not in their allegedly shared apartment. When somebody spreads a rumor that they’re adopting a dog together, you finally snap.

Charlie’s most recent stream goes viral for all the right reasons. He’s fiddling with the simulator for an audience of thousands when he suddenly jolts upright. ‘My girlfriend is knocking,’ he explains to his stream, ‘I think she might have forgotten her keys.’ Viewership doubles in minutes. The chat flies by like the Ferrari on a good day. Charlie steps out of frame, presumably opening the door. The two of you are just barely out of frame, but it’s pretty clear that this is not the model he’s been linked to. Especially when he swoops you into a hug, angling you backward just so—keeping you private for now, but making it clear that you’re not who they want you to be. You’re so much more, and so much better.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Charles’ eyes flick to where you're curled up just off camera. He mumbles a quick apology to his chat and rises from his seat with the kind of easy grace that makes your heart clench. “Be right back,” he tells them with a grin, already leaning in to steal another kiss from you. It’s the third time he’s paused his stream just to come over and kiss you, and this time, he lingers.

“Happy now?” he murmurs against your mouth, his accent curling around each word like it's a secret meant only for you.

You wrinkle your nose. “You keep asking that like I wasn’t fine before,” you huff.

He chuckles, his hands slipping down to your waist as he presses one more kiss just beneath your ear. “Mmh, but I like it when you're not just fine,” he hums. “I want you happy, mon amour.”

You open your mouth to retort, but then his touch changes—fingers trailing low, teasing where he knows you’re most sensitive. A sound escapes you before you can catch it: half sigh, half moan.

He pulls back, eyes glinting.

“By the way,” Charles chirps, brushing his knuckles across your cheek, “I didn’t mute the stream.”

Your eyes widen. “Charles—”

He’s already cackling, darting back toward his setup like you haven’t just made a very compromising noise in front of thousands. “She’s murdering me!” he shrieks, laughter bubbling as you launch yourself onto him, sending his computer chair reeling backward. “She’s going to kill me, chat! This is it! It was nice knowing you all!”

You shove him, mortified, and he only laughs harder, catching your wrists and pulling you into his lap. The stream explodes with emotes. They can’t see everything, can’t hear all of it, but the squeals of laughter tells them all they need to know.

Charles ends his stream not long after, claiming he’s going to be rather busy for the rest of the night. ⛐

#f1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #yuki tsunoda x reader #oscar piastri x reader #lando norris x reader #isack hadjar x reader #carlos sainz x reader #alex albon x reader #george russell x reader #charles leclerc x reader #⛐ kae prix #⛐ event: this is f1

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flightlessribbons · 25 days ago

Text

MINI MENACE ERA: COLLEGE KIDS

I have a part two that I’ll add to a reblog of this sometime, but here’s the first part for their college days! I couldn’t draw everything I wanted to, so more blabbering and elaboration under the cut!

Since this AU has turned into a fanfiction based off the concept art, the characterizations and roles of the characters can be pretty detached from canon- so just a disclaimer for that. Canon is merely a suggestion- and I’m not listening to it most of the time.

Their majors:

Sabine Cheng: fashion/ business

Pia Lahiffe: education

Nathalie Sancoeur: business/ economics

Otis Cesaire: environmental science

Gabriel Agreste: fashion/ art history

Emilie Sphinx: fashion/ performing arts

Amelie Sphinx: business/ economics

Andre Bourgeois: law/ (later) education

(Tom Dupain works full time at his dad’s bakery)

SUMMARY (and some extra details) OF THE HEADCANONS DRAWN: (since I am too lazy to do my full transcript tonight)

Sabine and Pia have been best friends since they were 13. Pia knows she’s Ladybug, and the two work together at Master Fu’s shop.

Pia knows that Fu has the turtle miraculous and makes sure he’s not overworking himself in his superhero retirement.

Sabine’s an open book with her emotions, doubly so when she was younger in college. Her fuse is short, and she’ll say one of her flaws is her pettiness.

Andre is the estranged son of a corrupt politician that works with Richard Sphinx. His dad originally paid for his tuition (to keep Andre away from him) but eventually cuts that off when he officially disowned him.

He and Audrey met like once at a social event years ago. Andre does not remember this, Audrey does but only because she thought his suit was so fucking ugly.

Audrey is the daughter of a Pergue (Sphinx’s company) investor. She eventually gets an ultimatum to get married, or else all her cards and cash get cut off.

Remembering “Ugly Suit” Andre has recently lost his dad’s tuition money, she asks him to marry her in return for her paying for his school. Andre becomes a trophy wife on paper, and the two never get closer than that. She writes his checks, he doesn’t get into scandals- easy!

Gabriel’s dream was to have his own atelier and specialize in lace products. His designs really push the limits of lace and beadwork. (He’s a huge nerd.) He never wanted a big brand.

Emilie has a crush on him and tries to talk to him often. Gabriel is conflicted between talking to the pretty girl in his class and interacting with the daughter of the enemy.

Emilie dresses eccentrically. Half of the time it’s costumes for theatre events, and the other half is her own style. (You can never tell which is which though- she’s always dressed like a time traveller.)

Otis is in the same econ class as Sabine and befriends her (Nathalie and Emilie are also in that class but they don’t interact with Otis or Sabine) and mentions her to Tom as a ��girl he’d like.” Tom insists that’s what Otis says about every girl with a bob and a fringe.

Tom first sees Sabine that same day bursting in the bakery to ask for cookies while in a frenzy. Otis says it is the calmest he’d ever seen her.

Amelie has a huge crush on Nathalie, who is an intern assistant for Richard Sphinx. She refuses to act on her crush…as Amelie anyways ;)

MISC HEADCANONS FOR COLLEGE MM ERA:

Sabine, Pia, Otis, Andre, and Gabriel are the group for the longest time. They’re not all that close to the Sphinx twins in the beginning, but they get integrated into the group once Gabriel and Emilie start dating

How they all met/ some dynamic notes:

Sabine and Pia were childhood friends

Tom and Otis were friends since in high school

Tom befriended Andre when he became a regular at the bakery

Sabine met Gabriel and Emilie in their shared fashion courses

Amelie and Nathalie have so many common classes bc of their shared majors

Sabine, Pia, Otis, and Andre would study and hangout at the bakery, Tom would feed them

Sabine and Otis are the outspoken ones in the group, they bond over complaining.

Everyone admires Tom’s boundless optimism, the freebie baked goods are just a bonus

Andre and Sabine are unexpectedly close. Her rough, and oftentime bad, jokes get both of them to laugh until their stomachs hurt. No one else finds them funny, but they find the twos’ laughter contagious.

Gabriel and Pia like to work in silence together, they’re both grateful someone else favors a more quiet setting to focus

Sabine is originally intimidated by Emilie’s enthusiastic and extroverted nature, but they eventually bond over fashion designs even before the Sphinx twins join the group

MISC CONT:

Sabine’s designs are more conceptual and abstract, often trying to emulate feelings or experiences. Can seem a little scrappy to some, but sturdy compositions. She also thinks about ways to integrate her pieces into performance art works.

Gabriel’s designs are based on pushing technical craftsmanship, mostly detailwork. The pieces can seem fragile or delicate because of their meticulousness. They usually have some historical influence, but don't look for accuracy.

Emilie’s designs show off her theatre inspirations, and are often very costumey in nature. Similar to Gabriel, she enjoys historical influence, but isn’t as detail oriented as him. She favors exaggerating the historical features of costumes and playing around with silhouettes.

Amelie often “runs into” Nathalie while she’s out patrolling as Chat Noir. The two get closer when she’s transformed, and Nathalie develops a crush on Stray.

HOW THEY GOT THEIR MIRACULOUS (and reasons for fighting Pergue):

Sabine Cheng: got from her late grandfather when she was a teenager. Fights for revenge for his death and the other victims of Sphinx’s crimes.

Otis Cesaire: got it from an old mentor. Hates Pergue’s monopoly of businesses and services.

Gabriel Agreste: found brooch in his great-grandmother’s sewing box. Believes that Sphinx has the other half of a missing tapestry of his great-grandmother’s.

Emilie Sphinx: got the broken peacock miraculous from her dad. Works for Sphinx when transformed.

Amelie Sphinx: got it as a family heirloom from her mother before she passed. Wants to see her father fall.

Andre Bourgeois: his paternal grandmother gave it to him. Wants to expose the corrupt politicians and investors like his father that collaborate and fund Pergue.

Tom, Pia, and Nathalie do not have miraculous

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hischiershoe · 2 months ago

Text

─── DOUBLE OR NOTHING

─── QUINN HUGHES X FEM!READER

[ summary ] Falling for a hockey player was risky, but falling for a hockey player your dad coached was an entirely different gamble.

[ word count ] 7.4k

[ content warnings ] brief jealous quinn, drinking is mentioned, some gambling references which author (me) knows moot about it, angst if you really really squint, make out session that alludes to smut but it fades out before it gets too steamy, heavily unedited

[ note ] after rewriting this with three different players over the last eight months, Quinn was the one that truly motivated me to get it done. please note that the events of the gala are probably not factually correct but it’s for the plot okay

The first time you met Quinn, you knew who he was. Of course you did. He was a guy with a pretty impressive reputation for being his team's saving grace more often than not but most importantly, he was a player on the team your father just so happened to be the head coach for. So of course you knew who Quinn Hughes was the second you saw him in a lowly lit bar with a few of his teammates, and he knew who you were from the moment he saw you walk through the door.

Quinn had seen your pictures all around his coach’s office, some from when you were young and some that were more recent. He had heard stories of your accomplishments and childhood in the midst of team dinner or practice rambles, and he had listened to your dad go on about how proud he was of you. It was a secret to none on the team that you were attractive, but the guys were smart enough to know you were off limits, but now that you were only a few feet away from him, Quinn knew that was going to be easier said than done.

At first, he pretended not to notice the way your eyes lingered on him longer than they should, and you pretended like you couldn’t feel his stare when he thought you weren’t paying attention. The two of you played the game of cat and mouse, neither of you quite ready to take the bait and completely follow through with what was being dangled in front of you. Though, when the group you were with combined with his own, you grew hopeful that that was going to change.

When one of the guys you quickly recognized as Brock introduced himself, he also went around and introduced the rest of the guys. You forced yourself to focus on them rather than the defenseman that was standing directly across from you, his eyes unwavering from you as you focused on his teammates. You didn’t dare spare a glance at him until his name was falling from his friends lips, but the second you made eye contact you knew you were undeniably screwed.

“Hi,” You greeted, your voice sweet and smooth as you stuck your hand out for him to take, “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” He shyly smiles, the calluses of his palm slightly scratching the softness of your own.

A few observing eyes noticed the way the two of you seemed to disappear in your own world, your hands locked together for far longer than necessary and your entire demeanor mirroring his own. It took the announcement of someone buying a round of shots for the two of you to break apart and join the rest of the group, but neither of you strayed too far from the other for the rest of the night.

While you didn’t go home with Quinn that night, you did manage to get his number from him before you went your separate ways. It took a little convincing on your part after he initially rebuffed your question with the simple excuse that he couldn’t because he played for your dad, but you were coy in your second attempt. Reminding him that exchanging phone numbers wasn’t a marriage proposal, that it was just you looking for more friends in a city that was brand new to you, and not long after, you couldn’t hide the smug smirk on your face as he typed his number in your phone.

The two of you started off casually texting, you asking him about his hobbies outside of hockey and him asking about how you were liking Vancouver so far. Your conversations flowed naturally and with ease, the two of you becoming closer than you thought you would in such a short amount of time. However, the two of you didn’t see another until his phone rang one random Friday night between home games. You’d had a bad date that left you stranded at a restaurant in a part of the city you were not yet familiar with and you had no ride home. Getting an uber by yourself was out of the question, and you found yourself clicking on Quinn’s number before anyone else's.

“Hello,” His voice was deep and wary, undoubtedly confused at your unprompted phone call.

“Hey,” You breathed out, “Are you busy?”

“No,” He shook his head, though you can’t see him, “Is everything okay?”

“Yes– Well, no, but it’s just– Do you think you can come pick me up,” You asked, your voice meek and hesitant as your eyes darted around the bustling street life around you.

“Of course,” His response was instant, almost embarrassingly so, “Send me your location and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The restaurant you had been left at was only a fifteen minute drive from him, but he made it in ten. He didn’t ask any questions as he held the passenger door open for you, but you didn’t miss the way his eyes dragged across the people walking by almost as if he was searching for something. Or someone. When he was back in the driver's seat, he silently handed you his phone with the music app open so you could play whatever you wanted as he started driving. However, not even the soft, familiar tune playing through the speakers was enough to ease the awkward tension filling the car.

“So,” You started, hands clasped in your lap as you gazed at him, “What have you been up to tonight?”

He briefly glances at you, a nervous chuckle passing through his lips before he says, “Nothing too exciting. Was just at home relaxing before the game tomorrow. What about you?”

You were quick to gather that you weren’t as outgoing and confident around him when you didn’t have a few drinks in your system, or when you were face to face as opposed to texting. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your fingers wringing together as you tried to keep yourself calm and outwardly collected. It also didn’t help that you picked up on the few wandering eyes of bystanders, their whispers making a ball of anxiety form in your chest at the thought of word somehow getting back to your dad. Though, you tried to push those fears away as you focused on the current moment.

“Well, I was on a date,” You snorted, pressing the side of your head into the headrest as you look between him and the road, “He left after getting some phone call, and left me there without a way home since he insisted on picking me up. Never doing that again.”

“He just left you there,” Quinn slowly asks, and his anger is evident in the way he’s white-knuckling the steering wheel and his jaw is clenched so tightly it looked almost painful. His sudden change in demeanor confused you, made you wonder what you had said that caused such a shift to the usually calm guy next to you.

“Yeah,” You draw out, furrowing your eyebrows together, “But it’s okay, it’s probably the best thing that could’ve happened. I didn’t want to get back in his car.”

“Why even go on a date with someone who makes you feel like that,” He slightly scoffs, but you know he doesn’t truly blame you. At least, you hope he doesn’t.

“He wasn’t that bad over text,” You shamefully shrug, moving your gaze to the dashboard in front of you as you let out a shaky breath, “Plus, he was attractive enough for me to want to go home with him.”

Quinn’s breath hitches in his throat, a wave of jealousy washing over him like a bucket of scalding water, but he brushes it off as he adjusts in his seat and keeps his focus on the road. You can feel the slight shift in the air, but the feeling that lingers is unrecognizable. It’s tension, that much you can tell, but you can’t quite figure out what kind of tension it was. It unsettled you, the unfamiliarity, but you decided to force it down your throat and let the ride home pass in silence.

When Quinn was nearing your apartment complex, you hadn’t expected him to park in one of the guest parking spots and slip out of the car. You pushed the car door open, stepping onto the concrete as he stands near the back of his car with his hands shoved in the pockets of his sweatpants. He can see the curiosity swirling in your eyes as you near him, your bag tightly grasped in your hand as you stop and raise your eyebrows as you peer at him.

“I’m just walking you up to your apartment,” He chuckles, shaking his head in amusement, “I was raised with manners, you know.”

“Thought that was typically done after a date,” You tease as you brush past him, trying to shake off the last bout of tension that remained stuck to you.

“Technically, this is,” He smugly points out as he follows closely behind you.

“I guess so,” You hum, throwing him a playful look over your shoulder as you continue, “But I’m not sleeping with you.”

That night, your relationship with Quinn began to shift into something you knew it shouldn’t. You found yourself texting him far more often about anything you could, thinking about him any time you got a free moment to yourself, spending as much time the two of you could spare together. The two of you were teetering over the edge into territory that could be dangerous for both of you, but neither of you were doing anything to stop it.

Quinn knew that what he was doing was a gamble for trouble, his teammates constantly reminding him of that when your name would fall from his lips or pop up on his phone. Truthfully, Quinn had never been much of a risk taker before, always choosing the safe route or weighing all of his options in his head before following through, and he knew developing feelings for you was the biggest risk of all, but he didn't care when it came to you. While he wasn’t exactly sure where the two of you would end up, he was sure that he was willing to face anything that got in his way. To him, you were worth it all.

When your mom called and told you that you had to be at the annual Dice and Ice charity event the team was holding on Sunday, you had to bite your tongue to keep your eagerness at bay when you agreed. It had been nearly a week since you had last seen Quinn, courtesy of his hectic schedule and your busy life, and you weren’t going to pass up the opportunity to see him again. Although the setting of your reunion wasn’t exactly ideal, you had high hopes that everyone would be far too busy to analyze any potential interactions you had with him.

The hallways to the venue were freezing, and the lower than normal temperature outside didn’t help in the slightest. While your brothers didn’t seem to mind with their pants and light jackets, you were bundled up in the warmest jacket you owned with a pair of fleece-lined leggings under the dress your mom asked you to wear. Living on the lower east coast for the last few years left you newly unaccustomed to the cold atmosphere you grew up around, and your brothers were not letting you forget about it.

“You would never know she grew up in hockey rinks,” Mason snorts, lightly slapping Trevor on the shoulder.

“She’s just a beach girl now,” Liam teases, “Can’t handle the cold.”

“Duke doesn’t have beaches dumbass,” You roll your eyes, “It’s below freezing outside, anyways. I don’t want to hear you guys bitching about being cold later.”

The four of you get into a playful bout of bickering, your voices growing louder as you try and talk over one another. All of you were far too engrossed in your petty argument that none of your ears picked up on the nearing footsteps until the two guys were standing right in front of you. You all come to an abrupt halt, Liam and Mason snapping their mouths shut as they gape at your new guests.

“Hey guys,” Kiefer greets over the large box in his grasp, his eyes flitting towards you for a brief second.

“What’s up,” Trevor responds, puffing his chest out to make him appear taller.

You roll your eyes at his lame attempt at seeming cool before you ask, ”What are you guys doing?”

“We were sent on a mission,” Elias’ deep voice rumbles, “Or maybe we’re hiding. Who knows? ”

“Right,” You drawl, slightly narrowing your eyes at the taller of the two in confusion, “Well, you guys have fun with that. We’re gonna go.”

You step around the two of them, your brothers following you without protest, but all three of them hear Elias’ not so quiet ‘Should we tell him she’s here?’. They all toss suspicious, curious looks your way, but you lamely shrug your shoulders in mock confusion as you scurry ahead of them. You knew your brothers were far nosier than you were and when they felt out of the loop, they would do anything to figure out what was being kept from them. All you could do was hope that luck was on your side tonight, and that they wouldn’t uncover the one thing you wanted to keep secret.

Quinn found you the second you stepped on the floor with three boys in your wake, and he couldn’t help but gawk at how beautiful you looked. The dress you were wearing was hugging you in all the right places, your hair done in a way that framed your face just right, and he could see the shine in your eyes, even from where he was standing. He could feel the knowing stares from his teammates as he let their conversation fade away, but he wasn’t in any hurry to look away. He was completely and utterly entranced with you.

It didn’t take you long to find Quinn, either. He was tucked in a corner with Conor and Brock, mingling with a few fans near the drink bar with amused smiles on their faces. You could feel your brothers watchful eyes on you, so you were quick to avert your eyes and sneak passing glances whenever you could. Each time their focus shifted to something more worthy, you were instantly letting your eyes fall on Quinn, and you found that he was already looking at you almost every single time.

During the entirety of Quinn’s speech, your eyes never strayed away from him. You hung on to his every word, listening so intently that every other sound around you was temporarily muted. You didn’t pay attention to anything else except for him until you felt a small pinch to your arm, forcing your harsh gaze to your brother as he jerked his head towards your parents. They were rising to their feet as they clapped, so you followed suit and ignored the skeptical look on Trevor’s face.

At first, you weren’t entirely sure where your dad was looking off to, but when Quinn came into view, a pit of nerves formed in your stomach. He had a wide smile on his face, greeting people as he walked by them and ran his non-injured hand through his hair, and the simple act alone made your mind go hazy with thoughts of him. Though, admittedly the closer he got to you, the more sense the empty seat directly to your left made, and you felt like you were going to pass out on the spot.

”Nice speech, Huggy,” Your dad calls out, pulling Quinn into a friendly hug, “It’ll have donations rolling in.”

”Let’s hope so,” Quinn lightly laughs.

As he walks around the table, he stops to politely greet your mom and brothers before he finally gets to you. The shift in his gaze was so subtle that you almost missed it, almost missed the way his eyes sparkled with a glint of comfortable familiarity. Almost as if seeing you, simply being near you, was enough to relax him despite the hectic chaos around him.

“Hi,” He bites back the smile toying at his lips, holding out his hand for you to take, “Nice to finally meet you. I’m Quinn.”

“Hi, Quinn,” You stifle the amused tone threatening to burst to the surface as you tell him your name, “Nice to finally meet you, too.”

You’d been in Vancouver all season, but you had yet to make an appearance at any games or any other team events that would’ve allowed you to ‘meet’ Quinn. Pretending to not know each other was the safe route to go, the easiest way to keep your family unaware of what you had been doing in your free time. You still weren’t entirely sure how your dad would react if he found out you’d been hanging out, and crushing on, one of his players, and you weren’t looking to find out, either. Especially not tonight.

“Two years I’ve been coaching this team,” Your dad calls out as he takes his seat, “And this is the first time my daughter’s meeting everyone.”

“Dad,” You exclaim in annoyance, narrowing your eyes at him as you sit down.

“Sorry, sorry,” He throws his hands up in surrender, “I know you were busy with work and school. I’m just messing around.”

“What were you studying,” Quinn smoothly redirects, fixating his gaze on your face, making your brief bout of frustration disappear like it was never there.

The conversation flows after that, a mixture of hockey and various other topics being thrown around the table. Anytime you and Quinn would disappear into your own world, you could feel Trevor’s suspicious gaze on the side of your face and it served as a careful reminder that you were surrounded by your family and not in the confined walls of his apartment You’d forcefully pull yourself away from him and engage with the others, hoping no one else picked up on it the same way he did. However, judging by the several looks your mom threw your way, she could tell something was up.

By the time the speech portion of the event was over, everyone scrambled off in different directions to participate in whatever caught their eye. Liam and Mason followed your dad to go and talk to some of the bigger sponsors, and Trevor disappeared before you could catch wind of where he was going. A few of Quinn’s teammates hastily pulled him away, but not before he tossed an apologetic look your way. A look that did not go unnoticed.

“I see you and Quinn get along well,” Your mom’s voice startled you, tearing yours way from Quinn’s retreating figure.

“Yeah,” You nervously chuckle, avoiding her stare as you grasp at the fabric of your dress, “He’s nice.”

She lets out a melodic hum, a sound you knew she reserved for when she knew her children were hiding something.

“He is a nice boy,” She affirmed, kissing her teeth before she moves in front of you, “Honey, you know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I know,” You mumble as you finally meet her soft eyes, “But there’s nothing to tell. It was just nice to talk to someone my own age that isn’t from work.”

You could tell that she didn’t fully believe you, but she didn’t press any further. Instead, she pressed a gentle kiss to your temple before she was slipping into the crowd on her own. You stood in your spot, eyes darting through the sea of people in search of no spa in particular. You recognized a few of the girls that had been at the bar the night you met Quinn, but you didn’t feel privy enough to approach them. Finally, you managed to catch a glimpse of your brother standing at one of the roulette tables, and you made your way towards him.

When you reached his side, the dealer called out to you and asked if you were participating, earning a shake of your head as you stood behind Trevor. You weren’t all that great at playing any sort of betting game, but you knew the relative rules and basics and that made it easy to keep up with what was going on. Your brother seemed to be doing fairly well, and, from what you remember, he had a pretty good chance at winning.

“Your boyfriend’s coming over here,” Trevor mumbled, his gaze flicking beside him before the table in front of him reclaimed his focus.

“What,” Your face screwed up in confusion, “Who?”

Your head turned, and your eyes immediately settled on Quinn as he walked towards the table you were standing at. He was passing polite smiles and hello’s to everyone he passed, but he made no efforts to stop and converse further. The way your heart rate increased so quickly at the mere sight of him was almost worrisome, though it was a feeling you’d grown accustomed to by now. No matter how many times you saw him, or what you were doing, he made your heart race.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” You whisper under your breath, subtly kicking the leg of Trevor’s chair.

“Tell that to your face,” He smugly states without glancing in your direction.

Before you can say anything else, the sound of Quinn’s voice calling your name echoes in your ears. You take a deep, ragged breath, shifting your gaze to Quinn as he comes to a stop right beside you. He’s got his hands shoved into his pockets now, a slight pink tinge to his cheeks as he flickers his eyes between you and your brother.

“You not playin’,” He asks, clearing his throat before he settles on watching the table.

“Absolutely not,” You snort, shifting on your feet, “I’ll leave Trevor to betting all Dad’s money”

“At least it’s for a good cause,” He jokes as he gently knocks his elbow against your own, “How much is the pot?”

“Not sure what it is now,” You hum, letting your eyes trail to Quinn’s face, “I heard someone say something about double or nothing, though.”

“Oh he’s a risk taker, I see,” Quinn chuckles as his eyes dart across your face, “Must run in the family.”

“What’s a reward without a little risk,” You flirt, ignoring the blood pounding in your ears and the knots twisting in your stomach.

The sound of Trevor clearing his throat rips through the veil of tension that surrounds the two of you, forcing you to tear your eyes away from Quinn and straighten your back. You met the careful, warning filled stare he was throwing over his shoulder before he turned his focus back to the game in front of him, and you felt your entire face heat up in embarrassment like you’d been caught sneaking a boy into your room. You force yourself to keep your focus on what was going on in front of you, rather than the dark haired man who has been residing in your dreams for the last few months. Though, Quinn wasn’t making that easy on you with every fleeting touch to the arm or question he threw your way.

“Hey,” He quietly calls out to you, eyes soft and hopeful, “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Your gaze flickers back to your brother who was now honed in on the game before curtly nodding at Quinn. You follow closely behind him, ignoring the needles of anxiety that were poking your skin at the idea of someone somehow twisting what they saw and it getting back to your dad. In reality, you knew most people would assume that Quinn was likely helping you, guiding you in the unfamiliar building, but you knew how nosy people could be sometimes. They loved a good headline for their gossip sessions, and the last thing you wanted was your name on the front page. Fortunately for you, the two of you came to a quick stop as you joined a group of his teammates and their partners.

Brock was the first to notice you, cheerfully greeting you before he pulls you into a friendly hug, which was shortly followed by one from his girlfriend. The others were simple with their hello’s, sticking to small waves and verbal greetings, and you happily returned them all.

“Bella,” Quinn mumbled under his breath, slightly jerking his head towards you.

“Oh, right,” Her face lights up with recognition, “I asked Quinn to bring you over here because I,” Her gaze briefly flickers towards Quinn, “Wanted to know if you’d be interested in going out with us afterwards? We’re just going to go to a bar for some drinks. Probably the one we met you at, actually!”

“I’d love to,” You rush out embarrassingly fast, your face slightly heating up before you collect yourself, “I’ll have to tell my family though. I rode here with my parents and brothers.”

You felt like a child as you told them that you had to practically ask for permission, but, judging by the looks on everyone’s faces, they already knew that. None of them were giving you any sort of weird looks, or looks of judges. In fact, they had all let their eyes fall on Quinn as he stood behind you with his hands shoved in his pockets and a bashful look on his face. It was then that the cliche lightbulb went off in your head.

He knew that you would need a good enough cover story to leave without your family. It was something you’d mentioned over text the day before, and he was giving you just that.

“That’s okay,” Bella continues, “We won’t be leaving until the events well over so there’s plenty of time. We just wanted to give you a heads up.”

After that, you fell into a casual conversation with the group of them, even after Quinn and the guys had to wander off for teamly duties. The girls were nice, asking you about work and how you had been liking Vancouver so far, and they answered any questions you asked them without complaint. You stayed with them for a while, letting yourself enjoy their company before Bella reminded you that you still had to clue your family in on your plans for the night and time was about to run out.

You slipped back into the dwindling crowd, stepping around chair and circles of people as you searched for your Mom or Dad. It didn’t take you long to find them near the stage, both of them engaged in what seemed like a pleasant conversation with an older couple you vaguely remember meeting earlier in the evening. Once you finally reached them, you stood off to the side and patiently waited until they were finished up, and you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself at how childish it all felt.

“Hi honey,” Your mom was the first to call out to you, her arm looped with your dads as she tugs him to face you, “Everything okay? We’re about to head out soon.”

“I was actually coming to tell you guys that I’m going to go home with Bella, Brock’s girlfriend,” You nervously admitted, picking up on the subtle flash of suspicion on your moms face, “They invited me out for drinks.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Your dad sighs as he anxiously glances at your mom, “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Who knows who’ll be there and—”

“I know Dad, but you know I don’t have many friends here. I swear I’ll keep my ‘coaches daughter’ appearance up the whole time.”

A brief pause hangs in the air, and you know your mom can see right through the charade you were playing, but she keeps it to herself. In fact, she quietly encourages your dad to agree and let you have the night with friends.

“Okay, okay,” He finally shakes his head, small smile tugging at his lips, “I trust you. Have fun, okay? And be safe. Call me if you need a ride no matter what time it is. I’ll keep my ringer on.”

“I will,” You practically squeal, lunging forward to pull them both into a hug, “I promise! I love you guys!”

You reconnected with the girls as they hovered near the bar that held everyone’s jackets and purses, telling them that everything was good on your end. They all let out excited cheers before diving into what was the overly complicated driving situation. You could barely follow along, but what you were able to gather was several people carpooled and now there weren’t enough seats, which didn’t make any sense to you.

“Wait,” You politely interrupt, “You said Elias and Conor rode here with Quinn, so why can’t they do that now?”

“Captain’s orders,” Bella drops her left eye into a wink, making your entire face warm and your chest warm.

You don’t have much time to think about her insinuation before the guys are crowding around you all over again. The already loud conversation seemingly increased times ten as everyone tried to talk over one another, but eventually they were able to come to enough of an agreement for everyone to finally filter out to the parking garage. You noticed that Brock and Bella made sure to stay close to Quinn, which in turn, meant you could stay close to him without worrying about your parents wandering eyes.

“You ridin’ with me,” Quinn asks as you step into the brisk Canadian air.

“I think that is the plan,” You confirm, glancing at him with a teasing glint shining in your eyes, “Apparently it’s just us, though. Something about ‘captain's orders’ I heard.”

“Oh, did you,” He raises his eyebrows, a mischievous smile toying at his lips, “Guess we have to follow them, don’t we?”

You follow Quinn to his car, settling into the familiar leather seat as he adjusts the temperature and hands you his phone so you can pick the music. You're scrolling through Apple Music when he starts backing out, but it doesn’t take you long to queue up a bunch of songs you know you’ll both like. After so many car rides and impromptu karaoke sessions, you’d grown used to his music taste. You put his phone in the cup holder, softly singing along to the song as you fall into the comfortable silence that fills the car.

“You okay if we swing by my apartment first,” Quinn asks after a few minutes, glancing away from the road to look at you for a second, “I want to change before we head there and I think I still have some of your clothes at my house from when your washer broke.”

“Oh, that’d be great actually. I need to get out of this dress,” You dramatically groan, pushing your head into the headrest, “It’s a little uncomfortable, but my mom insisted that I wear it. She said it was ‘sophisticated’ or whatever.”

“Well, you look good,” Quinn rushes out, clearing his throat as he puts extra effort into looking at the road in front of him.

Your gaze flickers over to him, fixating on his face and taking quick notice to his cheeks that were tinged pink, but you can’t tell if it’s from how warm his car was or the comment that still hung in the air.

“Thank you, Quinn,” You sheepishly smile, letting your eyes fall to his hands as one grips the steering wheel and the other rests on his thigh, “You look good, too.”

It doesn’t take long for Quinn to get to his apartment, pulling into his usual parking spot before he’s quickly jumping out of his seat and speed walking around his car. You knew what he was doing, and you always pretended to be busy gathering your stuff until he was there to open the door. A fact you’re certain he knew, but neither of you ever brought it up to one another. If you mentioned it, it would only lead to a conversation that neither you nor him were quite ready to have with each other.

“My place is a little messy,” He bashfully admits as he sticks his key into the door, “Haven’t had much time to clean lately.”

You wave him off with a small shake of the head, stepping around him when he pushes the door open to let you inside. Your eyes graze over his apartment, your brows arching as you take in what his idea of messy was. He had a few stray hoodies thrown about, some dishes lingering on the kitchen counter, and maybe two take out containers on his dining table. He’d hate to see the state your apartment was currently in if he thought this was bad.

“Your clothes are in the guest room, so you can change in there and then we’ll head out,” He clears his throat, tossing his keys on the small table before he turns to you.

You were shrugging your coat off, carefully laying it over the back of his kitchen stool since he had yet to get an actual rack to hang anything on. He couldn’t stop himself from letting his eyes drag the length of your body as if he hadn’t spent the entire evening doing that already. His fingers twitched at his side, the urge to commit the feeling of you to memory growing the longer he let himself stare.

“Sounds good,” You hum, pivoting on you heels to catch Quinn already looking at you. Even though he was quick to look away, it was too late. He’d been made.

Quinn mumbles something incoherent before he darts down the hallway to his room, leaving you almost as flustered as he was in the middle of his living room. You’d spent time alone with him before, several times, but you’d never caught him blatantly checking you out before, and it made your stomach twist itself into undoble knots. It took you a few moments to gather yourself enough and will your feet to move down the hall and into the guest room.

With the door shut behind you, you scan the room until you find that the clothes you had left were neatly folded on the small dresser across from the bed. You hadn’t realized that you left so much at Quinn’s, but you were grateful for that now, wanting to shed yourself of the dress that was digging into your skin the longer you wore it. As you picked through a few of the shirts, you froze when your fingers brush against the fabric of a hoodie you knew didn’t belong to you.

You recognized the logo on it immediately, having seen it during the many times you had stolen the hoodie it decorated when you’d conveniently forgotten to bring your own every time the two of you hung out. You’re not sure how it got mixed up with your laundry, but if Quinn had taken the time to fold all of your things, he had to have left it in there on purpose. He had to have knowingly left his hoodie, a hoodie he told you a hundred times he loved, in a pile of your clothes, but why?

Deciding not to spend too much time dwelling on a piece of clothing, you let it fall on the dresser and stepped out of your heels. You glanced between your shoes and the pants you had left here, suddenly regretting your choice to forego the flats you were contemplating with earlier, but you accepted the fact you were going to have to make it work. After all, it was either that or stick with the dress, and that was the last thing you were going to do.

You had shed the fleece leggings, tossing them on the floor somewhere before you were grasping at the zipper of your dress trying to free yourself from it, but it seemed to be stuck. No matter how hard you tugged or what position you stood in, it just wasn’t budging. You tried pulling the sleeves over your shoulders to pull it down, but the fabric wasn’t flexible enough and kept you trapped in its stupid confinement. Letting out a defeated groan, you stared at the door knowing that your only hope at freedom was right down the hall.

“Hey, Quinn,” You called out, sticking your head through the break in the door, “Can you come help me really quick?”

“Uh, yeah,” You hear him shout in response, “Be there in a sec.”

You leave the door cracked open enough that he would know to come right in and awkwardly stood near the end of the bed with your hands clasped in front of you as you rocked on your feet. There was a small bout of nervousness forming in your chest at the idea that Quinn was quite literally about to help you undress, but you tried to snuff it out by reminding yourself that it was just a friendly thing. A friend helping out another friend. Just two friends who are friendly.

“What’s up,” He says as soon as he steps through the doorway, his eyes darting up to your hair that you’d messed up during your zipper induced frustration, “Everything okay?”

The second you saw Quinn, you felt everything around you come to a screeching halt. He had gotten rid of his suit jacket, but he was still wearing the white button up that was underneath. Only now, the first few buttons were undone and the sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, and it made you completely lose the ability to function properly until you heard him call out your name again.

“Sorry,” You sheepishly murmur as you shake your head, “Sorry. I just, uh, I need some help with the zipper on my dress. I think it’s stuck and I can’t get it.”

“Oh,” Quinn breathes out, visibly swallowing before he nods, “Yeah, okay. I can do that. No problem. Easy money.”

He mumbles a few more things under his breath as he walks towards you, but they were too low for you to understand. You nervously turn around so that your back was towards him, your heart pounding in your chest and your ears ringing as you waited with baited breath. You can hear the unevenness of Quinn’s breathing behind you, the sound telling you that he was just as nervous about this as you were. Though you didn’t let yourself believe it was for the same reasons, no matter how badly you wanted it to be.

“I’m gonna—,” Quinn stutters, his fingers ghosting over the exposed skin of your upper back, “I’m going to try and do it now.”

All you managed in response was a small, curt nod, not trusting yourself to speak when he was so close to you. You can feel the pressure from his hand, but you can tell that he’s being careful to not actually touch you. To not let his fingers brush against your soft skin the way that you desperately wanted him to. Your body reacted before your mind could, your feet shuffling back so you were closer to him and he had less room to pull away, but he didn’t move.

He stayed in the same spot, this time letting his knuckles graze your spine as he effortlessly tugged the zipper down until it came to a stop just above the curve of your ass. A trail of goosebumps chased his fingers, leaving the skin behind them on fire and your body shuddering when he slowly pulls away. Every nerve in your body was burning with months worth of desire to feel more, to feel him on every inch of your body in ways that a friend shouldn’t. It was making your sense of reasoning cloudy, but maybe that was exactly what you needed.

“Quinn,” You whisper, your eyes fluttering closed as you hesitantly turn to face him, “Can I ask you something?”

When you find the courage to meet his gaze, it felt like time was beginning to crawl, teasing and testing you to the point of breaking. It felt like the world was putting everything on pause for you until you decided what you wanted. To decide if you were willing to risk what felt like everything on the off chance that the guy in front of you was willing to do the same.

“You can ask me anything,” He softly affirms, looking at you with a gaze so intense it makes your knees grow weak.

“What would you say if I told you I wanted you to kiss me,” You shakily mutter as you feel the gap between the two of you closing. You’re not entirely sure who was initiating it, maybe it was both of you, but it didn’t matter.

“I’d say that we shouldn’t,” He declares, his eyes dropping to your lips, “That your dad is my coach and I don’t know if we should take a risk that big.”

His face was barely two inches away from you now, and you can feel his breath fanning your face as anticipation builds in the lower part of your stomach. You barely register the way he was cradling your jaw in your palm until his thumb was brushing over your lips, sending a shiver down your spine and one of your sleeves slipping off your shoulder.

“Do you want to know what I would say to that,” You subtly challenge, looking up at him through your lashes, “I’d say that sometimes the risk is worth the reward.”

The words had barely gotten out of your mouth before Quinn was slamming his lips on yours in a kiss so blinding that you had to grab a hold of his shoulder to keep yourself steady. His mouth was moving against yours so desperately, so fervent and yearning for more as his hand slid to cup the back of your head and he slipped his tongue into your mouth. Heat coursed throughout your entire body as you clung to Quinn, as you use his body to keep yourself from toppling over from how hard he was kissing you.

His other hand finds purchase on your hip as he carefully guides your body backwards until you can feel the mattress on the backs of your thighs. You let your body fall against it, Quinn following closely behind until he’s hovering over you and your hands are tangled in his hair. You’re tugging at the roots, coy smirk tugging at your lips when he groans against your mouth, and one of your legs is hooked behind him to pull him even closer to you.

You can feel his bulge pressed on the inner part of your thigh as he grinds against you, applying pressure to the one spot you needed him the most. A soft moan slips through your lips with each passing movement he makes, and Quinn nearly comes undone from the sound alone. The idea of still trying to meet up with his friends had already been fleeting the second he walked into the room, but now it wasn’t even an afterthought. All he could think about was you. The way you looked, the way you felt, the way you sounded. Quinn was willing to give up anything and everything as long as he got to have that. As long as he got to have you.

me and open, vague endings are besties if you couldn't tell ;)

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes one shot #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #abby writes 💻

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lion-writer · 4 months ago

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I’ve seen a lot of headcanons and fics where Viago disapproves of Rook getting together with Lucanis. And ones that focus on how an alliance with the De Rivas benefits House Dellamorte, which is definitely true, and i fucking love them, but consider Viago probably couldn’t possibly ask for a better partner for Rook.

Though to be fair I am obsessed with Viago and his belief that he could restore the royal power of Treviso and that “He will not be satisfied until he sits upon a throne.”

While as a talon, he’s definitely more powerful than the king, and he could probably easily overthrow his father and take the throne. But that's probably not his biggest issue, because as my old history teacher used to say, “Power cannot be created or destroyed, only transferred”, so by restoring the power of the royal family, he’d be taking power away from the merchant princes and the other talons. Which, it’s probably safe to assume they wouldn't be happy about”. (Also as a side note, the quote “It’s not paranoia if they’re out to get you” is applicable here. Viago is a man planning to make A Lot of enemies)

And remember, this man is still the 5th talon, and while he’s allied with Teia, she’s also only the 7th talon. (Though they definitely should have gotten a promotion after the events of 8 little talons). So he’s not really in any position to actually make any power play, not unless he wants to piss off 6 of the other houses.

Thankfully, depending on the choices you make, by the end of Veilguard, he’s almost certainly up there among the most powerful people in Antiva, given that he was a key player in ending the occupation of a major city by the Antaam, not to mention the killing of a Literal Evil God. The only Antivans that could be more influential than him at this moment is Teia, who he’s dating and let's be honest, will eventually marry, Rook, who’s his protege,

Among those people, Lucanis is probably the most politically powerful, given that he’s done everything Viago has, in addition to the fact that he actually killed a god, and is now The First Talon. While I feel that he would support Viago in the bid for the throne, he’s also the only one who Viago doesn’t have any sort of formal alliance with. And considering Viago’s general distrust towards basically everyone, he wouldn’t place that much trust in the bonds of friendship, (especially if you believe that he thinks that Lucanis’s attempt at flirting was a threat).

But given the general political upheaval Antiva is probably already in right now, because It’s highly doubtful that Governor Ivenci was the only guy to make deals with the Antaam or Venatori for power, there’s no better time for Viago to make a play for power. With everything so recent it would be so easy for him to step forwards as a figure for people to rally behind, I mean he exposed corruption in the government, he freed Treviso, he trained a god killer, and he’s the son of the king. But If he waits, he kinda does risk somebody else stepping forth.

But after Ivenci’s attempt at getting rid of the crows and the whole Illario debacle, the other Talons would be very suspicious of anyone trying to take power, and while Viago is a Crow, he’s also an infamous curmudgeon who doesn’t really get along with the others.

Luckily, Lucanis is head over heels for Rook, which cements an alliance with House Dellamorte. And well, there’s quite a historical precedent, especially in Antiva, for alliances and weddings to go hand in hand. Not to mention the message it would send to the other talons for Viago to give away Rook, his protege for whom he has already demonstrated a soft spot for, to The First Talon, arguably The Face of the Crows. In addition, a grand high profile Wedding between two heroes who just saved the world, is the perfect thing for the general public to associate Viago with after everything.

I mean I’m pretty sure he would still grumble about it and he’d definitely let Lucanis know that if he ever dared to hurt Rook, Lucanis would wish he was still trapped in the Ossuary. But once he’s certain that they’re serious about each other, Teia and him would be the first people to start bugging them about marriage.

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crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington · 1 year ago

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individual frames of my recent animation u can watch here on yt or in my previous tumblr posts

feel free to use as pfp or wallpapers as long as its with credit!

re7, pre re8, and during re8

out of all of these the most visually pleasing is re7, i really love the red and green, it was fun making all the frames with their little trinkets that relate to the current events, the one with the lords was especially fun to make

daniela, lady D, angie, donna, moreau, and chris

daniela is my fave, i think she looks so cute, chris is a close second though, i drew lady D first and based everyone else off of her, my least favorite is donna just because there isnt a lot going on

karl, miranda and ethans heart, and eveline

this may be my favorite karl i have ever drawn and i did it with my finger on flipaclip and i have never been able to replicate it again and its making me so depressed

i really like miranda in this as well, she looks very pretty

some of my favorite frames!

this impact frame of ethan being caught by karl, i think he looks like a really stressed hamster and its really funny to me

paranoid ethan pre re8 was very fun to draw, i like how scared and nervous he looks

the frame before ethan detonates the bomb

i like this frame, his eyes r a little bigger than before and his lips r more "M" i think he looks cute, my friends said it was too depressing when i drew the frame in vc

the eveline segment is the only part with shading and i liked it alot, i think she looks spooky

bonus!:

the two backgrounds i made in ibis paint for the walking segment and the test colors i had made for all the parts in the animation, as well as the drawing the re7 segment was entirely based off of which u can find here!

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daenysthedreamersblog · 1 year ago

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ONLY ANGEL

she's gonna be an angel, just you wait and see

when it turns out she's a devil in between the sheets

and there's nothing she can do about it

summary: you've been 'betrothed' to felix ravinstill since before he could remember, and as that official engagement day draws closer coriolanus is tired of pretending you don't belong to him

parings: academy!coriolanus snow x academy!reader

warnings: MDNI! swearing, mild violence, infidelity, smut, thigh riding, fingering, oral sex, p in v sex, lil exhibitionist kink, mild daddy kink, breeding kink, discussion of murder, reader is a huge slut for coryo, coryo is also a slut for reader, idk probs some more that i forgot

notes: this one was fun :) hope u enjoy!!!

Felix Ravinstill was his natural born enemy. He remembers deciding it when he was younger watching your small hand hold Felix's even though neither of you knew what it meant, he remembers it settling into his bones that very first day at the Academy when Felix had his arm around your waist and you had turned to look at Coriolanus, a small smile on your lips, a cherry sucker in your teeth as you spoke with the voice of a candy coated temptress, "Hi Coryo."

He hated Felix Ravinstill for having you, always had, always will. Today, he especially hated him. It was an ordinary day, most of the students crammed in the academy library to work on their most recent assignments. That's why he was there, stack of books next to him, mindlessly staring at a blank sheet of paper. He could hear the rest of his table too loudly to focus, hear as Festus made some crude joke, listen to how Arachne told him off, as Felix's hand was making its way over to you.

You.

Sweet, pretty thing you. He didn't understand what you saw in Felix enough to let him touch you, nor anyone at that table. But that was the only reason he truly hung around that crowd of elite children, so he could slither in closer to you.

You.

With your cherry sucker rolling between your lips, Felix's hand around the back of your chair as you leaned back the top buttons of your uniform shirt undone, sweat glistening slightly along your chest. It was a hotter fall day, the AC not working in the library, but he didn't mind, not with how revealed it made you. He glanced down, his pants uncomfortably tight as he imagined what your sweat would taste like. He sighed readjusting himself glancing up to see you looking at him. Felix was looking down at a book Festus was showing him as Arachne scribbled something down on a sheet of paper.

You pushed it into your cheek, tongue peeking out at the movement, your fingers dancing on the edge of the white stick. His eyes darkened as the wicked smile played on your lips, he knew you did things like this on purpose; sweetest torture one could bear. He palmed his hard cock, eyes quivering with the little bit of relief it gave him and all he wanted was it to be your hand rubbing him. He wanted to drag you by your hair and slam you on this very table in front of everyone and shove his co-!

"Coriolanus." Arachne Crane drawled .

He blinked up at her, the whole table now looking at him. "Yes?"

"Are you coming to the orientation event tonight?"

The event. The first event of the school year where the Academy stuffed all its students in a room to kick off the start of the year. "Of course." He nodded. "I have to give a speech for the underclassmen." And there would be food, and probably you.

His eyes met yours for a moment as your cheeks sucked in to roll the sucker back the other way. "Always the overachiever Coriolanus." Felix joked his fingers toying with the collar of your shirt and he fought the urge to snap his wrist.

He watched as you popped the sucker out of your mouth, lips a shade redder from it, and he knew if he licked into your mouth he would taste the cherry.

Felix Ravinstill's days were limited.

He knew it would go well, his speech, it was never what he was worried about, he was top of the class for a reason, he knew most of the students didn't care for being spoken to, but he knew once he saw you it would be over for him. He knew you were out there somewhere, maybe listening to him, maybe with your stupid boyfriend's hand around your waist.

And you were, staring him down while your lips wrapped around a strawberry.

He hid his throbbing erection behind the podium.

He wanted to wrangle your neck sometimes, wanted to curse the blood pounding in his cock as he watched you drop the fruit carcass onto your plate and lick your lips. He cleared his throat, his skin too hot, trying to avoid looking to see you pick up another one.

The words felt useless and he forced himself through it letting your eyes bore into his, letting himself press his cock against the podium just to ease the pressure.

You picked up another, taking another bite a little bit of juice sliding down your chin and he fought the urge to run off this stage and lick it off, to suck your chewed up fruit into his mouth. You took your hand, wiping it off your jaw, and sucked it off your own fingers.

He wondered how your mouth would feel around his cock, how warm and soft your tongue would be against him. He wanted to fuck his cock deep down your throat until you gagged, drowning in his cum.

He cut his speech short, getting to the point to get off the stage. He busied himself with food to avoid thinking of you even though that was impossible. He would stay for an hour, eat, drink a glass of posca, and then head home before he shoved a plastic knife into Felix's throat.

You all knew each other, grown up together, and it was always set in stone that you would marry Felix. It was something older families had set up before either of you could talk. You two were always together after that, and he kept you on his arm like a pretty accessory. Coriolanus figured you probably felt indifferent about the whole thing, he had never been able to really ask you about it, and you never gave him straightforward answers if you didn't want to.

He turned finally seeing you across the room. It was cruel of you really to wear a skirt that short in front of him and have Felix's greasy fingers pawing you. A skirt he wished he could push up and bend you over in front of your stupid boyfriend. You would let him too, he knew you would, it's what bothered him the most.

Your eyes met his and held them as you took a sip from your glass eyes burning into his over the rim. You turned, whispering something to Felix, motioning to your cup, and peeling off of him walking straight for Coriolanus.

"Hi Coryo." You smiled brushing past him to where all the food was being kept along the table setting your half eaten fruit down. He loved the way you said his name, how it rolled off your tongue like golden honey.

"Hey." He sipped on his drink.

You refilled your cup, "Your speech was nice."

"Not too boring?" He joked as your body turned to face his.

You smirked against the rim. "I don't think your boring." Your lips were still red from the strawberry and Coriolanus wanted to taste that sweetness, you're so close he can smell it off of you. He clenched his fist instead. "You're the most interesting man I know."

Man. You had said man as if your loser boyfriend wasn't 20 feet away no doubt watching this whole encounter. Coryo leaned down a little closer, "I don't think Felix would like to hear you say that."

You fucking shrugged, "Then he won't." You turned your hair brushing his chest at the movement. "Bye Coryo."

This was the game the two of you played, you would make your eyes, say little comments, accident brush into him, and then you were gone leaving him achingly hard.

You were walking away hip swaying as you walked. You were trouble.

You were his trouble.

Sweet, irresistible you who was forced to leave ten minutes later by your boyfriend leaving Coriolanus to steal your plate of half eat fruit simply to taste your leftover spit and take a long walk home alone to go over what needed to be done.

"Trouble in paradise it seems." Clemensia slid down into the seat across from Coriolanus motioning to you and Felix, upset expression's on both of your faces. "Daddy must have picked out the wrong ring."

Coryo furrowed his brow, "Ring?" He knew it was coming soon, but he'd thought he'd have time to climb his own ladder to take you from Felix by right.

“Oh you haven’t head the news?” Clemmie cocked an eyebrow a sly smile on her face. “They’ve been ring shopping, or their parents have been. They'll be engaged by the end of the year.” She chuckled peering over at the two of you. “He’ll head off to University and she’ll be at home getting fat with his child.”

The food on his plate went sour. “What?”

Clemmie rolled her eyes, “Her father is pushing hard to set the marriage in place. He wants his daughter to be First Lady of Panem, and he is President’s Ravenstill’s direct heir.”

Coriolanus Snow, future President of Panem, I salute you.

Well if your father wanted you to marry the president, he was selling you to the wrong son.

He pushed his food around watching you storm away from Felix. And because he didn't like to waste food, nor look that suspicious he finished his lunch. He waited a few minutes, excused himself, and he was on his feet following where you ran off too.

He looked for a while finding you deserted at a lone table in the library.

"Hey." He said softly to not spook you.

He watched you slowly look at him expecting red eyes and tears, but instead your expression was blank another sucker in your mouth. "Hi Coryo." You still said his name so sweetly like the sugar from your candy laced your vocal cords.

"You alright?" He stopped in front of you.

"Yeah." You sighed rolling it along your teeth. He wanted to ask why you were arguing with Felix, if you truly enjoyed his company, or was this one big farce to appease your family. Instead he stared at you waiting for you to fill in the gaps themselves. You wouldn't, you never did, you never liked to reveal your cards, and he could only assume the argument had everything to do with postponing the engagement and nothing about a ring. You only cocked your head to the side hair falling over your shoulder. "Did you need something?"

He did, desperately. And he was tired of denying it to himself.

He walked over, pushed your chair back and settled his hands on either side of the chair's arms, towering over you. "Where do you get all those?" He asked finger bouncing off the stick.

You smirked up at him your knees sliding between his thighs, "My daddy." He was hard. He felt his pants fighting with his cock as he stared into your eyes. "Do you want one?"

He was sick of this game you played, and he was running out of time.

He didn't answer, but his lips parted as he reached forward and pulled the one from your mouth. He thought you were sick of the game too because you let him, let him slide it off your tongue, watching the trail of spit still attached, and into his own mouth. He pushed it past his lips feeling his cock twitch as he finally tasted that sticky sweet sucker you always had on you. "Cherry."

"Hmm." You had a smug smile on your lips as you stared up at him and slowly he felt your legs begin to part between his own. He glanced down, glanced down as your uniform skirt began to ride up bare thighs. He wondered if he reached his hand under there if he would find you naked and drenched. He thinks knows he would.

"Your boyfriend will be upset if he finds you like this." He says leaning down a little closer to you.

You feign innocence. "I'm not doing anything."

You settle into the chair more you shirt collar widening as he views the dainty gold necklace around your neck with the letter 'F' on it. His fingers go to it, tracing the letter, then he's trailing up your neck tilting your face up more by your chin. He wants to strangle you with it. "Do you enjoy teasing me angel?"

"Do you enjoy getting hard by it?" You ask back and he shoves your sucker deep into his cheek to grid his teeth. Your eyes go to the bulge in his pants.

His hand tightens on your jaw, "Let me come over."

"My daddy won't like that." You shake your head.

His cock throbs. "I don't care."

Your hand splayed against his chest as you sit up more, "Why do you want to come over so badly?"

"You know why," His fingers dig into your skin fighting the urge, forcing restraint into his body.

You move forward more your face inches from him, "Do I?"

"Because you want me to." His eyes flicker around your face. "That's why your always making those eyes at me hmm? Rubbing against me like a bitch in heat?"

Your hand goes to his wrist to pull it from your face, and then your dragging it down between your legs. He can't look away from your face, not as you trail his hand up your thighs to brush his fingers against your soaked pussy. He was right, you weren't wearing anything under your skirt and he knew it was just for him, and him alone. "I can't help it." You pout rubbing his knuckles against your folds. "You make me so wet all the time Coryo."

He curses as you shutter when his fingers bump against your throbbing clit and he losing the battle of self control. He wants Felix to find you like this, find you screaming out for Coriolanus as you cum. Instead he runs his hand along your arousal one last time and straightens up, "Let me walk you to class."

You watch with a flush on your face as he sucks your wetness off his fingers, letting it mingle with the tart cherry of your sucker still on his tongue. He's surprised you don't force him to give it back before Felix's sees. "Okay." You say standing up and he sees your own wetness sliding down your thigh. You let him tuck your hand into his arm so he could walk you out and back towards class. "I think I'll sit with you today if you don't mind." You tell him as you cross the classroom's threshold together. He's not surprised after the earlier argument you seemed to be reeling from.

You take the seat on his left when you usually sit a row down with your stupid boyfriend. And when said stupid boyfriend walks in later a glare settles in his gaze watching him look between you and Coriolanus who still sucked on your candy. Felix grumbles, but sits down anyways with no more fuss, Coriolanus chuckled silently to himself. You don't speak much more to Coryo, just mindlessly doodle on some paper with you head resting on your hand.

But then class starts, and your knee knocks into his.

At first he thinks it's an accident, but a couple minutes later you do it again leaving your leg to rest against his. He wants to reach out, rub his hand up you thigh to bury in your cunt. He wants to watch you squirm and fight the noises he was pulling from you. He wants to make you cum a row behind your boyfriend, and you would let him.

He knew why Felix kept such a tight leash around you, if this was how you behaved off of it.

By some form of grace or luck of whatever watched over Coriolanus Snow, the class assignment required partners. He usually would partner with Clemensia, but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up as he turned to look at you, an expecting glint in your eye, "I'll come over tomorrow night?"

You only laughed a little, but you didn't say no. And he watched as Felix came stumbling up from his chair to grip his hands against the edge of the table where you sat like the desperate swine he was, struggling for scraps. "Come over, we can work on it together."

You frowned sweetly, almost looking truly apologetic. "Oh I'm sorry. Coryo already asked me to be his partner."

Felix's angry eyes burned into Coriolanus, "We're always partners though." He leaned forward to whisper. "If this is about our argument earlier I can just..."

"No." You patted his shoulder. "Of course not, but really I can't say no to Coryo now that would be awfully rude."

"I'm sure Clemensia needs a partner." Coriolanus added. "Sorry Felix."

Felix only motioned for you to get up so he can take you home. You stood up and smiled down at Coriolanus, "Bye Coryo."

He watched you walk away wetness still glistening on your legs, the taste of it still on his tongue.

He arrived five minutes sooner than he was supposed to. He knew your parents were home, and wanted to impress them, wanted your father to realize how much better than Felix he was, it wouldn't be a hard task. He knocked, his hand lying limp at his side waiting for someone to answer.

It was your father.

He was a wealthy man, not as wealthy as Strabo Plinth, but enough. It was all about where he had put his money during the war, investing in the right places, unlike the Snows. You kept up with the league of elite children in school, you belonged there in the thick of it all. Snow did too, but he had to work harder to keep that image and he hated that that was the only thing keeping him from you.

He reached a hand out to shake your father's hand, “Coriolanus Snow.” He introduced.

“I know.” He offered a tight smile as he shook Coriolanus’s hand. “She told me you were stopping by to help with some…assignment.”

He nodded. “Yes, sir.”

But your father never moved as he took back his hand, never invited him inside leaving Coriolanus to stand awkwardly in the door frame. “Daddy.” Your sweet voice piped in shoving past his tall frame to open the door more. “Stop scaring him.”

Daddy. It sent a cool chill down his spine as you stared up at your father. “I’m not.” He held up his hands, “ Just wondering why you need help in school in the first place.”

“It’s a group assignment.” Coriolanus added as your eyes flitted up to him. “We got paired together.”

“Oh,” You father relaxed stepping away from the door. “You can work a the table then.” He motioned to your dining room table.

You walked away from him leaving him to follow you into your home and close the door. “We were actually goi-!”

“No bedroom.” You father shot at you without even looking as he disappeared into your home.

You sighed finally turning around, you motioned to the table, “You can set your stuff down here.” You instructed. “I’ll be right back.” You left, no doubt going to gather all your school work from your room. “Are you hungry?” You asked once you returned with your piles of books and papers. You were wearing one of you cute little plaid tweed mini skirts that hugged your thighs and he knew you weren't wearing anything under it.

“I ate before I left.” He lied.

“You can stay for dinner if you want.” You sat down next to him your leg sliding against his. He knew you did things like that on purpose just to touch him, just to drive him insane as your perfume wafted into his nose. He began to protest, he wanted to stay, if only to convince your father he was the better man. “Stay, please.” You set your hand on his wrist as you smiled.

He nodded. “Okay.”

The two of you did get to work after that as he educated you through what was needed for the assignment, your shoulder against his as you watched what he wrote down. Sometimes he truly thought you never payed attention, maybe you thought you were too pretty for school and it wasn’t needed. You were too pretty for it. You didn’t need it. He knew your father had set you up with someone wealthy to ensure you have a long profitable life without having to work for it. Yet, here you were working towards it anyways. He admired it for a moment, but your hand fell on his thigh and he knew he would end up having to do the whole assignment by himself.

He didn't mind as he listened to the quietness of your house. You glanced up at him, and he met your eyes realizing how close your face was, and he knew what you wanted as you bit your lip. "Does your daddy know what a little slut you are?" He whispered.

"No." You breathed slinging your leg over his thigh to straddle it.

His hands went your thighs, "Then you better be quiet angel." He glanced down as your skirt rode up your thighs your bare cunt pressed against the meat of his leg, he felt your wetness seeping through. He leaned back, watching as you rocked your hips against his thigh. He took a second, just one second, to enjoy the feeling of your body against his, enjoy the fact you were riding him, getting off to him, then he was sliding his hands up your bare thighs to wrap around your body. You were so soft under his touch like you had bathed in rose petals. His fingers dug into your waist forcing them to roll against him harder and you made a small noise from the back of your throat.

"Felix can't get you off can he?" You whine as your clit rubs against him, the sweet friction of it all making your head fall back slightly, "No he doesn't know how to handle you does he?" He stared up at you, at your open mouth, and he runs his hand down your hair. "That's why you came crawling after me." You grind against him faster chasing your own high as your hand goes to his pants palming his hard cock through his pants.

You're such a whore, he knows that about you, he knows you hide it so fucking well and yet here you were, fucking his thigh, hand halfway down his pants when your father could come find you any second. It makes him want to slam you back on the table and sink his cock into your wet heat just for him to see, just to prove he was the man of this house, of you. "Coryo." You moan out quietly and he thinks its the sweetest way you'll ever say his name. You slid your hand down his cock. He groans out taking in the sight of your hand working him, swirling your hand around the shaft pre-cum leaking out of the tip.

He wants to bury his face into your mouth, your neck, your breast, but he can only watch you, watch you get yourself off on top of him. He flexes his thighs the same time you tilt yourself forward and your grip tightens on him. He stares up at your face, eyes glazed over as you grind your pussy down hard against him, lip tugged between your teeth pumping his cock at the same rhythm as your body. He feels you clench your thighs and soon enough you cum, drenching his pants with your pleasure. He wraps his hand around yours to fuck your hand faster, harder, and then he's planting it against your soaked thigh to cum against you, hot white ropes of it splashing across your skin. You don't move off of him, you both sit there for a while breathing heavily against each other until you straighten up to stare down at him.

"I don't let Felix touch me." You say hands coming up to toy with the ends of his curling hair.

"Why?"

You only smile and he's never thought you looked more beautiful, sweat on your hairline, red cheeks, and his cum on your body. You glance down at the clumps of white covering your skin, and then you run two fingers through it, gathering it on your fingers, and shoving them in your mouth sucking his cum off. He's mesmerized as you groan gently popping your fingers out and licking your lips. You climb off his body to settle back into your own chair glancing down at the wetness staining Coriolanus's pants seeping down onto his skin a satisfied feline grin on your face.

Your mother came through the next second, “I’ll set the table for four?”

You smiled up at her, “Yes ma’am.”

He dined with your family, a deliciously huge meal, one he hadn’t had in a while and he wondered if your parents could smell your actions in the air. “She didn’t give you too much trouble son?”

Your father’s voice made him look up as he asked, “No sir.”

He turned to you, “Why wasn’t Felix your partner?”

“He went with someone else.” You shrugged pushing your food around.

“I’ll speak with him.” Your father said.

“Daddy no.” Coriolanus shifted in his seat at the whine. “Please don’t.”

Coriolanus cleared his throat watching both eyes snap up to him. “I asked to be your daughter's partner for this assignment, and she was too kind to tell me no.”

Your father relaxed as Coriolanus had saved you from some lecture. You gave him a sly smile as your mother chimed in, “I made apple pie.”

After desert, and a minor interrogation from your father about his plans after The Academy, you walked him to the door. He didn’t like that your father felt the need to exert his power over him. In all honestly he didn't trust your father's intelligence if he thought Felix was a good option for you. You stepped outside with him closing the door behind you. You leaned against it staring up at him biting your bottom lip. He planted his hand next to your head towering over you.

"Are you gunna kiss me goodnight Coryo?" You tilted your face up for him.

"I don't think Daddy would like that very much." His hand comes up to your chin.

You smirk, going onto your toes to brush your lips against his. "Oh I think Daddy will."

He attacks your mouth tasting the sticky sweetness that was you, always would be you. The taste of apple is still on your tongue from your mothers pie, apples and cinnamon everything that was nice layered your lips as he licked along it feeling you part your mouth for him to slip inside. His hands were in your hair pulling you closer as you braced your hands on his chest melding your lips against his. He swept his tongue into your mouth meshing it with yours. He yanked your head back to stick his tongue down your throat feeling your back arch so your breast press against him, and the salty remnants of his cum lace your molars. He nips at your bottom lips your moan vibrating through him as he sucks and tugs on it until he knows it will bruise. Then he pulls back, "Are you going to let me fuck you angel?"

You give him a breathy laugh, "See ya, Coryo." Then you disappear back into your home.

By the time next week hit you were back in your normal spot next to your boyfriend. It shouldn't have surprised Coriolanus, he knew you were just rebelling against the mold your family had forced you into, and he just happen to enjoy letting you use him.

But you turned around, that cherry sucker that tasted so good between your lush lips, and you would smile.

"Hi Coryo." You said it like you had a secret only he knew and he was sometimes forced to jack off in the men's bathroom just to take the edge off. Just to avoid wanting to fuck you right then and there in front of the whole class, and he knows you're waiting for the day he finally does it.

As he tucked himself back into his pants exiting the bathroom you were standing there, back against the opposite wall watching him. Your eyes met and he only leans his shoulder against the door frame of the bathroom. "Felix is mad at me."

He looks you up and down, "Why?"

"Because I told him you were coming over tonight." He chuckles to himself, your eyes studying him as he walks over to you.

"I am?" He asked as you trail your fingers up the buttons on his shirt.

You frown, "I'm needy."

He scoffs, "I hope that isn't the reason you gave him."

"Please," You whine your hand running down his arm to guide it to the middle of your skirt and he can't help himself, even your begging is sweet.

He guides his hand up your bare thighs, your soaked cunt greeting him like it had missed him too. "You need me that bad hmm?" He runs a hand up your center watching you tug your bottom lip between your teeth. He leans his head down taking your lip between his own teeth and sucking on it tasting that lingering cherry sugar as he pushes two fingers into you. Your mouth parts in a gasp as you part your legs more for him. "Does your boyfriend know his girlfriend is a dirty whore? Fucking soaked for me all the time?" You tilt yourself forward sucking in his hand deeper as he curls up against a sweet spot your quiet moan echoing around the empty hall. "You want someone to find us don't you, you want them to see what a fucking slut you are for me."

"Coryo." You whimper nails digging into his shoulders and he hopes you mark his skin forever. He presses his forehead to yours feeling you pant against his face as he presses his palm to your clit.

"That's right." He grazes his teeth along your jaw as he fucks you faster with his hand. "Call out my name when you cum angel." He growls out, "My angel." Because you were, his, he knew that long ago, remembering glaring at Felix when you all were children and he had his arm around you when it should have been Coriolanus. His tongue lolls against your damp skin of your neck and your hand twist in his hair as he pulls your leg up more around his waist.

It's a test of restraint to not wrap your legs completely around his waist and sink into you, to take what is so rightfully his. Instead he shifts his hand, thumb pressing into your clit to listen to your mewls, to the sound of his wet fingers dipping in and out of you at a brutal pace. He sinks his teeth into your neck rolling his tongue along the mark he knew he was giving you, and you love that it will be there.

He feels you clenching around his hand as you moaned out his name cumming against him. Your chest hits his with every panting breath as he slowly lifts his head to gaze down at you, hair slightly disheveled, cheeks flushed, blissfully dazed out from the orgasm he gave you. "I'm making cookies."

Of course you were, he groans as he presses his face into yours capturing your lips with his own hand still buried inside of you. "What kind?"

"Chocolate chip." You smirk against his lips. "I'll let you lick the spoon."

You opened the door for him this time and he wanted to yank you from the frame to run away with you forever. You wear wearing a pretty black minidress with a white long sleeve underneath it, an apron covering you, flour splattered across your cheek, and a pink ribbon tied your hair at the base of your ponytail. It's like you worked so hard to persevere girlhood and innocence to hide the adultery lurking under your skin.

"Hi Coryo." You batted your eyelashes at him as you opened the door for him more to come inside.

He did love the sound of you closing and locking the door for him, "Where's you father?" He asked watching you walk in front of him.

"Working late." You replied leading him towards your kitchen waving a hand around. "My mother is off doing something unproductive."

He leaned against your marble island watching you throw a cup of sugar into the large bowl, "They left you in here all alone?"

You chuckled, "I'm not alone, you're here with me." You cracked an egg your eyes glancing over towards his, "Do you think your parents would have liked me?"

Coriolanus looks you up and down. He thinks they would and maybe in a perfect world where he wasn't an orphan your father would have wed you to Coriolanus. "I could never take you home to mother in a dress that short." He smirks as you slowly begin to stir the batter. He sometimes was surprised Felix let you leave the house if this is how you acted, how you dressed.

"Oh yeah?" You pop your hip out a little.

He straightens up stalking over to you until your back was pressed to his chest, nose buried in your floral scented hair. "She would disown me for bringing home such a brazen slut."

"But her son loves when I dress like this." His hands find the hem of your dress as his fingers trace with the curve of your ass.

He plants his mouth against your neck, "Does he now?"

You push your ass back into his hard cock. "Oh I think he adores how I dress for him." His hand splays across your backside as his teeth graze the flesh of your jugular and he wants to sink his teeth in to stake his claim. "How I never wear any panties for him."

His nails dig into you because he fucking knew it. "All for me." He repeats sucking on your skin until you wince away hoping the mark is deep and purple and Felix knows it's from him.

You turn suddenly eyes flickering up to his face, "The trick is a little extra vanilla.” You motioned to the dough sitting on top of two fingers. "Try some." He wraps his hand around your delicate wrist and brings it to his mouth. He sucked in your fingers eyes never leaving yours as your mouth parted slightly the blush forming on your cheeks as his tongue swirled around your flesh. It tasted delicious, but your skin tasted better like sugar had ingrained itself into every pore. He let your fingers glide deeper on his tongue before he popped them out of his mouth.

"Hmm." He ran his tongue up the sides until all that was left on them was his spit.

You breath. "All for you." He's kissing you then, consuming your validation that you knew what he knew, you belonged to him. He taste the scoops of dough you had stolen, the chocolate and brown sugar mingling on your tongue and he adores that extra teaspoon of vanilla you added. He licks it off the roof of your mouth sucking on your tongue, and then your arching into him on your toes as his hands trail down your body cupping your ass as your dress rides up.

He reaches his other hand back pushing aside your large bowl of batter and then he's lifting you onto the counter loving the way he fits in between your legs. You were made for him, he knew that long ago, cut perfectly from that juicy forbidden fruit Eve ate. His hand goes to your chest kneading your breast over fabric as he slowly lowers you to the countertop spreading your legs open for him. He breaks the kiss descending down your body to peer at you decadent wet cunt. He knows you'll taste sweet down here too, his mouth waters taking in the sight.

"Oh she's pretty."

He can't help but moan into you as he licks up the center prodding your clit with the tip of his tongue feeling your hand find his blonde curls. Your feet come up around his shoulders as he passes over it gently at first savoring the taste of your arousal and knowing he would never taste anything better than you. He traces circles around it slowly feeling you squirm under his touch, hearing your pretty whines, nails scraping against his skull. He dares a glance up at you, at your agape mouth, your eyes squeezed shut as he begins to move his tongue faster.

He decides then he won't wash his mouth out tonight. He wants you stuck between his teeth forever and when tomorrow comes he hopes Felix will smell your cunt on his breath.

He tilts your hips up wrapping his lips around your clit pressing down on it with his tongue as you breath heavily beneath him. He's slithering his arm up your body squeezing your breast. "Coryo." You moan out pushing your pussy into his face more, grinding it against him. He's moving his tongue side to side, hard pressed rhythmic motions that have you a mess in his hands. Your thighs clench around him as you whimper one last time before you cum against his face. He drinks you up, everything you have to offer, lapping up what you give him as his tongue pushes into you for a moment feeling your walls spasming from your orgasm.

You yank his head up by his hair and you shoot up encasing his mouth with your own tasting yourself on his tongue as you sweep into his mouth and he groans pressing his groin into your island.

"Tell me how you like it." You pant out into his mouth teeth knocking against each other.

Coriolanus takes your expression in and he realizes, yes you never let Felix touch you, but you never touched him either. You have never touched another man besides him, saving yourself for him, and it makes him want to shove his cock down your throat even harder. He helps you off the counter onto shaky legs and your going down onto your knees in front of him. He lets you unbutton his pants and unsheathe his hard length running your hand along it.

"Put your mouth around it." He tells you as you bring it up to your lips, and you fucking lick the tip like it's one of your cherry suckers.

Then you open your mouth and wrap your lips around him sliding him inside. He always imagined what your mouth would feel like after so many times of seeing you suck on that hard little candy. It's even better than he thought. He hisses as his hips buck forward a little letting him hit the back of your throat. You bob along his cock once, twice, three times before you pop off blinking up at him with that coy little act, "You're so big Coryo."

He shoves himself back in your mouth, "Wrap your hand around it." That was all you needed to know as you worked his cock, taking him deeper, hand swirling around the shaft tongue lolling against the head. You work him faster, grip hardening around him, sucking in your cheeks as you look up at him with big doe eyes. "Fuck." He gritted out hand tangling in your ponytail to move your head against him, force his cock deeper watching the water well in your eyes, but you never stopped. "You like my cock in your mouth don't you angel? Want my cum down your throat yeah?"

You moan against him in response teeth gently grazing his skin. Your mouth too soft, too hot, hands gripping him so tightly, his hand in your hair holds harder as his thighs tighten. Your tongue sweeps out along his shaft and he's cumming, hot ropes of it shooting down your throat shoving his cock deeper to make sure you took it all.

And you did, greedily, your hand still softly gliding along him as he thrust one final time into your mouth. He wraps his finger around the ribbon in your hair and tugs it out slipping it into his pocket. You popped off, wiped your lips with your finger, and sucked it clean keeping your eyes locked with him.

His hands come around your face as you stand up. "Break up with Felix." He whispers out thumb tracing your puffy lips. He's sick of seeing you with him, not being the able to claim you in front of everyone like he wanted to.

"I have to preheat the oven." Is all you say back stepping out of his hold to go over the the oven.

He clenches his jaw, "I want Felix to know."

You shrug, your back still to him, "Then tell him." You turn after turning on your oven. "It won't change anything." You walk towards him a hand coming up to push his curls away from his face, "Unless..." You peered up at him manipulative innocence in your eyes. "You were the President of Panem."

Coriolanus couldn't get enough of you at that point, he had become addicted to your sugar sweet taste and once was never enough for him.

All it took was one little smile while you licked up the red ball of your cherry sucker, and he was pouncing on you, meeting you in the hallway every time.

In between classes he would shove you into random closets to force his cock down your throat. You two would time bathroom breaks unsuspectingly and he would have you up against the stall wall fucking you with his hand.

His favorite moments were when he hunted you down in the library pretending to read a book. You would look up with a little shy smile. "Hi Coryo." You'd purr and soon he'd have you sprawled out on the table like his own personal meal drinking your pleasure like it was nectar from the Gods.

He came over occasionally too, lying about some assignment or help with a test. Your mother always invited him to stay for dinner, and he would, of course, shove his hand inside you under the table until you came while he spoke to your father.

Felix was suspicious. It wasn't hard to be when you showed up with marks on your neck, the same neck still wearing that ugly 'F' necklace, and the pretty ribbon from your hair wrapped around Coriolanus's wrist. He would only glance back at Coriolanus, and Coriolanus would smirk back at him, but he never said anything.

Everything was wonderful.

Then one day things began to change.

"Let me fuck you." Coriolanus told you kissing your open mouth as you came down hard on his hand. He wanted to be inside you, wanted to trap you to him forever. You would let him.

Your head falls back against the wall, "No Coryo."

"Let me fuck you." He kissed you again. "Come on baby girl, I know you want to."

"I'm waiting until marriage Coryo." You unravel yourself from him fixing your skirt. He knows you're lying, "I'm a good girl."

He scoffed, "Yeah a real angel."

You sighed running a hand over your face. “My father is having Felix and his uncle over tonight.”

“President Ravinstill?” You cringed when he said it. "Why?"

"Because Felix thinks you're up to something and wants to speed things along." His jaw clenched, he was going to murder Felix and his stupid uncle. You flash him a smirk, "He thinks you're trying to corrupt me."

Coriolanus chuckled, "I don't play well with others."

You came closer, hand dipping under his shirt to rest against his bare chest. You kissed his jaw, "You play well with me, Coryo."

He waited outside your home watching through your windows as you ate dinner. You sat next to Felix, fake laughing, hand sometimes brushing his wrist with affection. It boiled his blood and he curses his father for dying, for investing in District 13 to make him poor. You were his. He should be sitting at that table with you planning your engagement.

He knew the only way he would take you from Felix was winning the Plinth Prize at the end of the year, going to University, and stealing that Presidency out from under him.

It was the only way.

He watched you kiss Felix on the cheek as him and his uncle left. He watched you arguing with your father, storming off no doubt to your bedroom. And then he was moving, sticking to the shadows until he was around your house staring up at your bedroom window. He scaled the wall ending up on your small balcony staring into your sheer curtains.

You looked so beautiful sitting at your vanity combing through your hair still in your dress from dinner.

He pushed the balcony door open quietly, but your eyes met his through the mirror. "Surprised you didn't storm into dinner earlier." You set the brush down. He took a seat on your bed raising his eyebrow, "I always know where you are Coriolanus Snow, even if its creeping outside my windows."

"Who gave you these?" He motions to the vase of fresh flowers.

"Felix." Your smile drips in sweetness. "My boyfriend."

You turned to him, "How was dinner?"

"Boring." You sighed leaning your elbows against your vanity. "He's going to propose after graduation." Coriolanus's blood heated. "The ring was beautiful though."

His eyes followed you as you stood, "I could buy you a better one."

Your hands rested on his shoulders as you cocked your head to the side. "With what money?" He glared at you. He didn't like that people suspected he was poor, let alone you.

"Would you say no if I asked you?"

"That's not up to me." You chuckled hands toying with the end of his hair. That 'F' necklace around your throat dangling in his face.

Coriolanus narrowed in on it, "I could just...kill your father, Felix, anyone that got in my way." He reaches up and rips the necklace off your neck hearing it clatter to the floor, broken.

You leaned down, nose pressed to his cheek, the words brushing his mouth in a sweet caress, "Then do it."

His hands went around your back pulling down the zipper of your dress feeling it loosen around your body until it fell around your feet. You stood up stepping out of the dress and Coriolanus looked up your body slowly, taking in every naked inch of your body. He landed on your face, "What do you want angel?"

"Even when you were a boy, you were a man." You slid onto his lap naked body pressed against him hands running through his hair. "I want a man. I want you."

He flipped you onto your back crashing his mouth to yours engulfing your lips with his own. You were unbuttoning his shirt, peeling it off his shoulders, running your hands down his bare chest. His tongue meshes with yours mouths gliding along each other as you burst open the button on his pants. He wants his skin against yours, to feel your warm softness against every inch of him. He pushes his pants down his legs until the two of you are nothing but flesh.

You capture his lips once more as his hand travels up your side his thumb brushing the underside of your breast. You blissfully sigh. He cups your breast, hushing your mouth with a harder kiss. His thumb passed over your nipple, rolling the pad along it, feeling it perk up to his touch a low whine in your throat that he swallowed up nails scraping against his skull. He moves his mouth off of yours trailing down your neck, tasting every sweet part of you until his mouth wraps around your perked nipple lavishing it with his tongue as your back arches pushing it further into his mouth. His teeth nip down on it, licking and sucking as your squirm under him.

He feels your wetness against his thigh and he shifts to run his hand along your folds. "Did you think about me fucking you all throughout dinner?" He presses a finger slightly against your clit. "Thought about all the pretty noises your Daddy would hear down the hall."

Yours eyes darken as you gaze into his. "I wanted you to fuck me during dinner; storm through my front door and take me in front of Felix and his stupid uncle."

"You're such a little fucking whore."

You smirked, "Daddy's little fucking whore."

He shoves his fingers inside you, lips parting at the intrusion. He wants to be inside you, wants to claim everything you are as he thrust his hand in and out of you, stretching you open, the room thick with the scent of your arousal and squelching sounds of your pussy. You buck your hips into his hand to meet him as his palm presses down on your clit and he already feels your walls clenching around him.

He presses his face into your chest, your heart thumping rapidly for him. You were breathless, your legs spreading open more for him as your body tightened around him as he brought you closer to your peak. He curls his fingers against that spot he knows you love and you came undone with a soft cry, clamping down around his hand, nails digging into his scalp. He straightens up admiring you. You looked so beautiful sweat forming across your chest, cheeks red, lips parted to catch your breath as you stared up at him. You simply glanced down at his long, hard length and then back up at him. He knows you're a virgin, knows you'll take his cock like a slut.

He lined himself up with your sopping entrance and pushed into you. He can't help but groan as he closed his eyes moving slowly into you, letting your tight walls adjust to him, squeeze around him. He pauses for a moment the only sound coming from either of you were broken breaths. And then he pushes in until he fully inside you. You gasp at the feeling, the fullness, as you gazed up at him.

Your pussy fluttered around him and he rolled his hips against you pulling his dick back and slamming back into. "You take my cock so well." You arched your back as he slammed into you moaning out for him, wrapping your legs around his body to pull him deeper. His mouth was on yours, a mesh of spit and tongue, your hands rooted in his hair as he fucked into you. He was kneading your breast with one hand, pushing the other into your mattress to fuck you harder. He glanced between you, watching his cock disappear into you soaked pussy, watching how well you took each brutal thrust. "Perfect fucking pussy, made just for me." He drags his teeth along your jaw as your breast press against his chest. He pressed his hot mouth to your ear, "You're fucking mine, you understand that angel?" His hips snapped against yours heels curling into his sides as you nod against him. "Not Felix's...not your fathers...mine." He growls in your ear.

You agree tilting your pelvis up allowing him to slid against that sensitive spot.

His curls spill across your face, he wants to hear you say it. "Say it."

Your brows scrunch as he slides his hand to your clit. You moan for him, "I'm yours Coryo." His grunts fill the room as he pounds into you as you cry out for him over and over again. He hears your bed knocking against the wall, the squeaking sound of the spring as it slides against the floor, neither of you care who hears it. You clamp down around him coming all over his cock squeezing him too tight.

"Gunna cum in this tight little pussy." He hisses out his thrust growing sporadic. "Gunna make you have my heirs." Your too fucked out to care as your teeth sink into his shoulder wanton pleas falling from your lips. He's spilling into you, cumming so deep inside you feeling your walls spasming around him, drinking in every drop of his seed. He thrust it further within you as your legs slowly uncurl from around him.

He pulls back to look at you his cock twitching one last time. "You have a lot of work to do." You tell him fingers twisting the curls along his face a devious smile on your lips and he knows you've never been an angel, not a day in your life.

You were the devil in a candied disguise.

"President Coriolanus Snow."

He will win that Plinth Prize. He will take you from Felix, from your stupid father, by right or by force.

He doesn't care what he has to do or who he has to kill along the way as long as he gets to have you at the end of it all.

PART TWO HERE!!

im a whore for those blonde curls

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus x you #coryo x reader #fanfic #coryo smut #coryo snow #coryo x you #president coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #daenysthedreamersblog #smut

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pixelatedtaken · 10 months ago

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Blitzø's Name In The End Credits

A while ago, I saw someone point out that Blitzø's name on recent episodes (in the credits) had an X over the O and went to check it out. It turned out to be true and decided to keep track of it until it'll change again.

I wasn't going to search deeper than that, mostly waiting on how it'll go but I decided to check if it was any different than the ø that we're supposed to know. So...

When I saw this in season 1 episode 1, my jaw was on the floor.

I'm sure people have pointed this out before, I've only seen about the recent X over the O but I'm sure this ain't new. Part of me had noticed but when months pass between episodes and you don't actually pay attention to the credits, the change is so minor that it kind of never happened in my mind.

But the fact of the matter is-

all of season 1 had Blitzø's name written with the o. No "silent O", just Blitzo. Until...

Queen Bee.

If people were around, they know Queen Bee did not release after Ozzie's but we're pretty certain it was done way before season 2 began (even though it released in the middle of it). Anyway.

Maybe the change from the o without a line and the ø with the line wasn't so weird when it happened, especially since season 2 was out and the change had already been implemented, as seen below ↓

But it only lasts up until Western Energy. After that...

The X appears.

This is definitely on purpose, I simply can't figure out the purpose. My only theory is that it's supposed to represent Blitzø's declining mental health and severe self-hatred/low self-image taking a hold. I do not know. I can only point out the events on the previous episodes before the changes were done.

Ozzie's/Finale: Blitzø was faced with his past in the most disastrous way, ending with the start of his relationship with Stolas falling apart. His self image crumbled further.

Western Energy: Blitzø was faced with the fact that Stolas can get/be hurt. His view of the immortal/untouchable Stolas crumbled. Assumption, he might blame himself for not being there.

I don't know, I'm just thinking and I'll probably be obsessed with this until we see what else they do.

#helluva boss #blitzø #helluva boss blitz #blitzo #helluva blitz #helluvaboss #helluva boss analysis #*shakes violently*#I NEED EXPLAINATIONS #i'm going insane #feel free to ignore #ok bye #i'll probably make another part of this if/when it changes again (maybe)

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justevelynnnn · 16 days ago

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Becoming Mark’s girlfriend🤍

Pairing: Mark Grayson x Blk!fem reader

Warnings: Reader is afab, William makes a somewhat crude joke at the end

Summary: Basically what the title says 😭💀 Also this is an au where Mark never dated Amber

A/N: Guess who finally started invincible guys😭‼️ i finally have motivation to write again! And omg is Mark so so fine i’ve seriously been missing out. I’d say tumblr is definitely the place to be for mark x reader fics because i have read some good shit so far on here omg😭 anyways i hope y’all enjoy

You met Mark through your friend Eve in high school. He was pretty awkward the first time you introduced yourself to him. You thought he had a thing for your cousin, Amber, a while ago but over time it seemed he was more interested in you.

You guys hung out a bit and this was only when Eve or William or Amber were involved but overtime you got to know bits and pieces about him. He loved comics and that burger place. Lived in a semi fancy house.. supposedly half Asian.

Things got crazy a few months after you met him though …

Turns out, apparently, Omni man was a bad guy? And then a huge fight went down which eventually lead to Chicago being destroyed pretty bad. Then on top of it all Mark wasn’t around much either even before all of this. Which was..odd.

Him losing his dad distracted you from his eccentric attendance though as you wanted to give him space to grieve.

Then, one day he comes up to you and just goes, “Hey…can we talk?”

Now things are even more crazier because not him literally being Invincible💀💀

You were stunned to say the least. Even more stunned that Amber and Eve knew, but everything all made sense now.

Surprisingly, though, this made y’all closer. Him trusting you meant a lot. You offered advice when he needed it. A shoulder to cry on. You started sending him random tiktoks/reels to make him laugh (after he said it was okay of course).

It didn’t change everything for you. Hell, it honestly changed nothing. You started to really like Mark over time. Something about him was different than other guys in the school as corny as it sounds. Of course, there was the literal aspect being he was an alien and can like…fly, but there was something else. He was a lot kinder than most guys. Somewhat more mature even though that part at this point probably wasn’t his choice either due to recent events. He could joke but he could switch it off too when needed…something most guys y’all’s age couldn’t properly do yet.

Then you started always thinking about him. It was hard to avoid seeing them given he was always fighting something and ending up on the news or social media. But even when it wasn’t that everything reminded you of him. It took Amber to tell you that you had a crush on him.

“Girl, all you do is talk about him. How did you not know?” Amber joked as you two walked home. You did admit it was embarrassing to say the least.

“I really talk about him that much?”

“Like, 90% of the time.”

You felt your face heat up and tried to hide your face with your locs as Amber laughed, “ I mean, I don’t blame you! He is sort of fine…”

William who was walking with you two silently but scrolling on his phone finally joined in saying, “Hey, I could put a word in for you…I am his best friend after all..”

While that actually sounded like a good idea, you’d rather tell him yourself somehow. Though, after that day William started dropping hints to him while you weren’t around and the next thing you knew Mark was subtly flirting with you.

Mostly it was all flirty pick up lines, but because it was Mark it was okay.

Graduation came and went and now it was summer. Mark was still healing from everything so he said he’d rather stay home than go out but that didn’t affect you guys hang outs. It was clear by now you two liked each other so finally after a day of just lounging at your place and watching movies all day he finally said, “Do you wanna, like go out with me?”

It caught you off guard for sure so you said nothing but barely even a moment passed before he started stammering and stuttering how he didn’t know why he even said that and you just laughed.

“I’m sorry. Shit. Is it too soon? Sorry it’s just-”

“Mark.”

“I like you a lot you know? And I just want you to know that, like I really appreciate you and-”

“Markk.”

“You’ve really been there for me. I mean so was Amber and William but you mainly. Sorry it that weird too? Look-”

You got tired of cutting him off so you just grabbed his face and forced him to look at you in the eyes.

“Mark. I like you too. Yes, I’ll go out with you.” You giggled. His face felt warm in your hands as he slightly blushed.

“Oh.”

You broke the eye contact to laugh again at his lack of a response but also because his stare was so intense. It was like that ever since summer started. Him staring deep into your eyes like that. Or just at all. It almost made you nervous at times especially because that was a literal super hero.

After that day word spread pretty quick that you two were dating. First, Amber knew because you immediately called her squealing after Mark left. Then somehow William found out and of course Mark told his mom pretty quick too. She was still going through it too but she lit up whenever you stopped by. She liked that you made Mark happy, took his mind off things for a bit. You’d always check in on her.

Now that you and Mark dated things slightly changed. You both talked more about personal things like you guys culture. You taught him how to help you during wash days and he and Debbie shared recipes.

Mark was also a big cuddler, always big spoon too. Physical touch was his love language.

Sometimes it got lonely when he was off flighting some monster or alien or whatever or when he went to space to fight and was gone for a few days but he always made sure to come right back to you after reporting to Cecil and checking in with his mom.

And he always made up for it too. Whether it was some souvenir or he took you to some place in the world like Paris for a special date, he always made time for you. You were patient with him, he was a superhero after all. He was saving lives sometimes even the whole world.

He made your heart feel full no matter what he did and vice versa. William told you one time that all Mark talked about was you which almost gave you deja vu.

“Reminds me of me.” You just said in response.

“I knowwwwww, it’s kinda annoying..” He replied sarcastically.

“It’s giving hater and jealous.” You joked rolling your eyes.

“It’s giving just screw already.” He replied swiftly.

He was kind of right.

But all jokes aside you couldn’t be happier to have Mark in your life.

Your other half.

#invincible imagine #invincible x reader #invincible #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson #invincible fluff #x black reader #x black fem reader #mark grayson x you #mark grayson x black reader #invincible fandom

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m4iya · 2 months ago

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⋆⭒˚.⋆𝜗𝜚 Order up! Matcha green tea, 100% sugar, 100% ice with black pearls and coconut jelly for @frosted-flakes!

Collab? Kenma Kozume (fluff, post high school, mutual pining + forced proximity)

Your phone had been blowing up with notifications all day since last nights stream. Who knew your viewers would get so heated over a couple jokes? Heck, was it even your viewers? It seemed more like the ones that were freaking out weren’t actually watching for the full context.

Well, that’s what you said every time. It kept them watching, right?

Though, being tagged in rants and comments wasn’t the only thing happening this time. You were receiving an absurd amount of messages from viewers as per usual, but also from other streamers and influencers. The most common words present within all of them being:

“Guess who mentioned you in their stream last night!”

This time, it felt a little different from other controversies you’d been wrapped up in, so you couldn’t help wonder who this mystery person was, and what you had done to earn yourself a mention.

One scroll on your timeline told you just about everything you needed to know. A post sat at the top of your feed; a video captioned “@/mc of all people?’

Clicking on it, a clip of someone’s stream began to play; a QnA of sorts.

“Kodzuken, will we be getting a collab with anyone soon? Can you drop any names?” The streamer read aloud before pausing to think.

“Hmm.. there’s a few things in the works, but I don’t know for sure when they’ll be out.” He replied, absentmindedly flicking through the questions on another monitor.

He paused for a few seconds before continuing to speak. “I’m not the best at reaching out to people, but I’d like to see what kind of content I could make with @/mc. She’s pretty funny.”

Proceeding to continue with other questions, he completely ignored the way the comments blew up at him.

Out of every streamer you knew, he had to be the absolute last person you’d have expected to even have any idea of who you were. You'd been watching his content for a while, having seen him at influencer events and such. Though, you'd never been able to approach him at any of them, often using 'I was talking to my viewers, that's why I couldn't approach him' as an excuse to yourself.

Even though it wasn't exactly your objective as an online personality, you figured that controversies and out of pocket statements would be one way to get his peoples attention. It wasn't like you were exaggerating your personality per se, you were always pretty outspoken, so the only extra steps would be recording or streaming your antics.

Even though it looked like it worked, you had no clue where to go from here. Would you send him an email? Or a message? And what would you even collaborate on? What would happen to his view count if he did make content with you?

You tapped onto his profile on Twitter, scrolling through his recent posts as you wondered what to do. Suddenly, a notification popped up on the top of your screen: A message request.. From him!

Kodzuken hey, this is @/mc, right?

You had a pretty large following, and he had mentioned your name in his stream. Staring at the message for a few seconds, you wondered if he was trying to be funny.

MC u really aren't the best at reaching out to people lol and yeah thats me

Your messages maintained an air of nonchalance, hiding the way your eyes were peeled—waiting for his next response, your heart thumping loud enough for it to reverberate through your ears.

Kodzuken thats a little mean anyways i'm assuming you saw my stream in that case so how does a collab sound?

MC I'm not too busy tbh I should be free next week. u sure u wanna collab with me? ur viewers will probably freak out over it

Kodzuken my channel not theirs 🙄 what do you wanna do for the stream?

MC something simple maybe some type of challenge? are u free to call so we can set it up?

Kodzuken give me a sec ill call you

Your hands shook in place, palms sweaty as you waited for him to call you first.

When your phone eventually rang, you let it sound for a few seconds, clearing your throat. Answering the call, you held the phone up to your ear.

"Hello?" He spoke first, his voice being exactly how it sounded on stream.

"Hey!" You internally sobbed over how that might've sounded.

And so the conversation began to flow, the two of you brainstorming ideas and details about the collab. It would be held on his channel, with you editing the stream into a video for your own channel. Before the two of you hung up, he asked for your number so he could send over his address. You wondered why he couldn't just send it over DMs, but your heart was already racing too fast for you to even bother asking.

You got to work immediately, organising your schedule and allocating time to buy the things you needed. He said he had most of the basic things already, but to make things funnier, you suggested a couple ingredients that you'd buy yourself. The idea was to hold a cake baking challenge with odd ingredients. Without telling each other what flavours you were using, you needed to decorate as nicely as you could, and you'd taste each other’s dessert at the end. One of you will guess incorrectly, and the penalty will be to post something on the other's social media account after the stream.

You both agreed not to do anything rash, but also not to plan or rehearse the ending too much. It had a mix of the chaos that was usually in your content, and the viewer interaction that he'd implement in his own. Preparing things behind the scenes, you both kept each other updated until the day arrived, and you nervously made your way to his place.

Standing in front of his home, you took a deep breath before knocking on the door. You heard the shuffling of slippers from the other side, stopping abruptly at the front door.

"Who is it..?" A voice groaned from the other side.

"Um.. me?" You nervously answered.

A faint gasp sounded from the other side before a flurry of steps took off, leaving you wondering what just happened. Could it be that he forgot that you were coming over today?

He returned around a minute later, opening the door immediately. You noted how crinkled his clothes looked, his voice as though he'd just woken up. The skin of his face was dewy—freshly splashed with water, the evidence visible on the hoodie he wore. It wasn't the one he usually had on in his streams.

"Sorry about that." He muttered, attempting a chuckle. His laughter definitely didn't come off as nonchalant, not with his eyes looking everywhere but at you.

Though, you definitely weren’t feeling too confident yourself. Your hands were clammy as you bent over to pick up the bags that you brought with you which contained the things you'd both be using in the stream.

"I'll help." He quickly offered, taking the things in his own hands with a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Butterflies. Your stomach churned in a way that it hadn't done since high school.

Following him inside, you realised how big his home was, surprised that he seemed to live alone. As you walked to his kitchen, he gave you a haphazard tour, which was limited to the rooms you both passed. He steered you away from the direction of his own room, telling you that it was 'just a little messy right now.' Looks like he really was asleep.

Once you reached the kitchen, it surprised you to see his camera and tripod already prepared. He placed the bags down on the counter, walking towards his setup.

"Should I set up my stuff as well?" You asked as you pulled it out of one of the bags, having brought it just in case.

"It's fine, I'll send you the footage." He replied.

With that, you prepared the materials you'd both be using. He provided the bowls, spoons and mixing tools. You handed him an apron and wore your own, giggling at how he struggled to wear it despite it being so simple. You offered to tie it for him and he did the same, even though you were more than able to do so yourself. You lifted your arms as he took the fabric around your waist to tie it, gently weaving one piece over the other.

"Is that too tight?" He asked. "Want me to loosen it?"

"Yeah, just a little."

You could feel your heart beating in your ears as he spoke from behind, helping you with this short, mundane task. Things were all over the place today, and you weren't sure how you'd get yourself under control.

The two of you went through a few more things, and soon began the stream. You greeted the viewers, and introduced yourself to those who didn’t know you.

And so the stream went on, unfolding much more differently than you had initially expected. It seemed that the people who were criticising you had either stuck around to see what would happen, or had simply left.

You cracked jokes with each other while mixing your ingredients, using the mystery flavours that you had poured into separate bottles last night—so tired that you could barely remember what was in them.

At the end, you both decorated the cakes together in an attempt to make them as appealing as they could be. Yours was coated in red frosting, and you used white buttercream in a thin piping tip to write out his name in cursive on the surface of the cake. His was haphazardly covered in pink frosting, purple polka dots shaped from fondant scattered over the surface and the sides. He had decorated the edges with sugar pearls and rainbow sprinkles, running out of time before being able to write your name on it.

Cutting each other a slice, you both took turns tasting it. You could barely contain your laughter as he cut into his—the centre was so moist that the knife he used was coated in batter as he removed it from the cake. You opted to eat a piece of the edges instead.

Exaggerating your reaction, you coughed, walking off camera to grab a drink of water. The ingredient he had used was chilli, and it wasn't settling well with you at all. His laughter echoed through the room as you drank from the cup of water; probably because of the slightly exaggerated reaction that you had rehearsed with him before the stream in the case that he happened to choose something spicy.

As he took a bite of your slice of cake after you had returned to the stream, his face contorted; confusion? He chewed once, then paused, scrunched his eyebrows, and continued chewing.

"Is that—" He coughed. "Is that coffee?"

You could barely contain your laughter at his reaction. Well, he wasn't completely off. It was coffee, alongside a couple different spices such as cinnamon, nutmeg, and.. well, you lost count after the first two.

"Not exactly! Wanna try again?"

He held his nose bridge, 'deep in thought'. You both knew that one of you needed to get it wrong to go through with the penalty. A few obviously wrong guesses later, it was decided that he'd be the loser. After talking to the chat a little, answering some questions and interacting, it was revealed to them that you'd soon upload a video on your channel, which would contain extra content, and that the penalty post would also be up on his account. With that, he concluded the stream, slouching over the table with a sigh as you took a seat on one of the tall stools, picking at the cake he had made.

"At least the frosting tastes good." You laughed, taking a spoon of it.

"Yours wasn't actually too bad," He muttered. "Just.. very flavourful."

The situation suddenly set in; it was now nighttime, and your belongings were scattered everywhere. How were you supposed to just pack up and leave? That same feeling from earlier was now completely overwhelming you as you felt your face warm up. What exactly was going on? Keeping your eyes on the slice of cake, your face began to heat up. In your peripheral, you noticed his head turn.

"You okay?"

“Just a little tired,” You smiled, avoiding his gaze. “I should probably get leaving soon." Reaching behind your back, you fiddled with the knot in an attempt to untie it. The quicker you could pack up, the quicker you'd be out of this mess.

Though, even the apron wouldn’t budge at all no matter how hard you tried to undo it.

"Did you superglue this or something?” You chuckled, exasperated. “It’s so tight!”

"Oh,” His head perked up. “I loosened the first tie, but I double knotted it just in case." He stepped towards you, offering to fix it yet again.

"All done." His hands reached over to the collar, lifting it over your head to which you pulled it down, folding the apron in your lap.

"Guess I'll do yours as well?"

You stood from the chair as he turned his back to face you. This was definitely something he could've done himself. Though as you fiddled with the fabric—in the deafening silence of the room, the way his breath suddenly hitched became overly apparent.

At this point you honestly couldn’t tell whether it was yours or his who’s breathing you were hearing. Your eyes scattered as undoing the fabric of the apron was the last thing you were thinking about right now. It was a little late to be realising this, but he was much taller up close than he seemed online, and given the way the apron wrapped snugly around his body—he was also a little thinner than you imagined. Not to mention the stray hairs at the nape of his neck that had escaped from the bun he’d made.

“..Are you done?”

Shoot. Who knew how long you were standing there with your gaze scattering everywhere? You quickly untied the knot with a single swipe, and he lifted the collar over his head, handing it to you. As you reached out to take it, you noticed how tightly he held it, seemingly not wanting to let go. It did seem a little out character for him to be so forward—having been the one that initially reached out to you first, inviting you over and being completely unlike how you initially perceived him. Not that you had thought he was mean, he just didn’t seem like the type to be so outgoing.

Or maybe it was motivated by something. Maybe the small patches of plush pink painting his cheeks, the way his lips were slightly parted so as to prepare himself to speak, his gaze focused on you for the first time today—maybe things were a little different for him as well. You for one knew yourself, being well aware of what you’d been going through today.

“..Do you have something to say?” You prodded, teasing although your voice was small, shaky, and laced with nerves. You definitely weren’t in any place to be picking on him.

He cleared his throat, gaze leaving yours once more. “..Do you have plans tomorrow?” Your eyes fluttered to his slender hands, their grip loosening as he spoke.

“No,” You replied. “I had nothing planned for this week other than—well, this.” Taking the apron from his hands, you set it on the counter. His hand moved to brush a loose strand of hair out of his face, “Do you live far?”

“A little.” Your car was parked outside, but you weren’t the biggest fan of driving at night, and alone as well? Not happening—not unless it had to. “But I drove here, so i’ll just-”

“You can stay the night.” He interrupted.

“No, I can’t—really-“

“I have space for another person.”

“I don’t even have a change of clothes!”

“I have spares.”

You were surprised that he’d offer something like that, and double down on it as well. Well, his place was huge; but you didn’t i expect him to go around telling random people they can stay over. Especially when he’s only met them once. He was now stacking the dishes in the sink, yawning as he did so.

You couldn’t help tease again, stepping towards him. “So you actually want me to stay over?”

He clicked his tongue, turning on the water. “And if I do?”

That.. wasn’t what you expected to hear. You couldn’t see his face, but the redness glazing the tips of his ears told you that he’d probably been going through the same things as you all day. Well, it was more than just today for you; and you wondered the same for him.

extra:

“Hey, we forgot about the penalty!” You recalled, slipping into one of his spare hoodies.

He sighed, brushing a hand through his hair as he scrolled through his phone, opening the camera. “Sit over there.”

“Here?” You took the seat on a chair in front of his setup, crossing your legs. The two of you giggled as you set up the photo, with him directing you to wear his headphones.

You took the photo of yourself, throwing up a peace sign, and captioned the post ‘get used to this face, ur gonna be seeing it a lot more’.

Watching the replies immediately come rushing in, you laughed together. It definitely wouldn’t be the last time you’d both record something together.

from my 100 followers event ✩ other works

#anime #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #fluff #haikyu fluff #manga #haikyu x reader #kenma #kenma kozume #kozume kenma #kenma fic #kenma hq #hq kenma #kenma x reader #haikyuu kenma #hinata shouyou

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