#or the weirdest fucking driver pairing

[topnotchquark]

[denwritesandcries]

One rock a day keeps the Wilderness away – L.M

Pairing: lottie matthews x fem!reader

Summary: The last thing you expected to happen after a plane crash was for your girlfriend to end up becoming some kind of cult leader fascinated by amulets made of the weirdest and shiny things like a damn owl, yet here you are.

Word count: 1,7k.

Content: 96/wilderness timeline, cursing, pet names, fluff and corny, comfort, skeptic!reader, lottie and reader are secretly little haters.

Note: I guess you could say that I simply love writing fluff and cuddles.

English is not my first language.

If there was one thing everyone at Wiskayok High School was aware of, it was that Lottie Matthews was rich as fuck.

She always wore the most expensive clothes, there was a driver who picked her up at the door and took her everywhere, her house was simply giant and some dare to say that a butler was the one who met them at the door and served them drinks on the nights she had her parties.

The thing is, Lottie was a bit... weird, for a rich girl, which meant that she wasn't as popular at school as she could’ve been. She didn't exactly fit the bad girl role, but she wasn't quite a preppy either, with her extravagant bows and tiaras being the most luxurious thing she would actively display. She was distant at best.

This made you, at the beginning of your relationship, try to spoil her in every way possible, not being able to believe that this sweet and out of reach person could reciprocate your feelings so genuinely when she could have just anyone, so, in addition to showering her with affection, you also showered her with gifts. Accessories, especially. Earrings, necklaces, bracelets, until you understand that jewelry really wasn't her thing, since despite accepting everything with affection, she simply left them stored insisting that you didn't spend your money on it. Lottie was much more appreciative of the little things you gave and did for her.

Now, the last thing you expected was for her to develop a taste for accessories in the damn wilderness of all places.

“Baby, I’m not wearing a necklace with a damn bone hanging from it to go hunting.”

It turns out that, like almost everything involving Lottie, her way of demonstrating her new preferences – maybe hobbies? – was also not very usual and you hadn't exactly taken anything of the royal jewelry type for a trip that was supposed to be quick.

“But I chose and made it for you! Will keep you safe out there, I feel it.”

Oh, yeah. There was also the fact that your girlfriend was perhaps slowly going a little mad and becoming the leader of a religious cult that your teammates were a part of and that she wanted you to participate too.

“Jesus Christ, Lot.”

You didn't want to encourage her. The worry was eating you alive and it's only gotten worse since she confided in you that she finally ran out of her meds.

You, unlike your other teammates, were aware that the things Lottie said or did lately were much more influenced by her own condition than any other truly supernatural factor – as much as you couldn't deny that the cabin and the forest gave you goosebumps –, which made you really stressed and irritable with all your friends as they started to believe in things that didn't exist and put pressure on your girlfriend for answers as if she were some kind of prophet.

You managed to keep everything under control and keep her from straying too far from reality to a certain point, but then the whole situation with the group being attacked and Van being seriously injured happened and so nothing you did could convince Lottie that there was nothing what she could have done about it and that only seemed to encourage her more when the redhead recovered enough to confide you all that she should have listened to the feeling Lottie had and that she felt safer with the “amulet” she received from her.

The result is that you are now the target of Lottie's worries and she insists that you wear the charms and trinkets she makes.

It's actually quite cute, you've caught her once or twice sitting by the fire trying to figure out how to tie a knot that won't snap the cord, her eyes glazed over and focused. You could use it, as bizarre as it would be, if it was just a silly gift from your girlfriend, but since that's not what it is, you don't want to put even more things in her head in case something actually happens.

“But then what’s going to protect you when you leave?” Lottie asks, head tilted to the side in alarm and you can only notice how her bangs fall over her eyes in a messy and cute way.

“Maybe the gun I always carry with me?”

However, it was becoming difficult not to encourage her in any way, because aside from bones or occasionally some different plants, Lottie also seemed to see signs in anything that stood out a little, like the bright and colorful rocks you had made a habit of bringing at her, guarding everything that caught her attention like a damn owl.

It started as a silly thing, with a cracked and shiny rock you found near the lake the day you guys found the cabin, you cleaned it and handed it to her with a shy smile, like it was one of your gifts back home, just to cheer her up a little and since then she kept the rock with her at all times – even if sometimes she woke up twitching because she ended up lying against it in the middle of the night. That seemed to turn the key and over the next few days you noticed that she spent time looking for new types nearby the house and so you committed to bringing all the pretty items she might like when you went on your hunts with Natalie, from strange rocks to little crystals lost along the way, just because she looked so happy when you handed them to her.

You think her cute gesture turned into more of a paranoia like 'one rock a day keeps the wilderness away', but at least it makes her more relaxed and happy on days when everything is bad.

One day you return to the cabin with Natalie in tow looking very upset because you've come back empty-handed again and your head is drooping with exhaustion and frustration. When you finally enter Lottie is waiting for you with an appreciative, warm look in her face.

“Did you get anything?” she asks, wrapping her arm around you and guiding you both to your usual corner so you can sit side by side.

You mumble negatively and bury your head in her neck. She rephrases the question when she notices your discouragement:

“Did you get anything for me?”

You sigh, smiling at her, “That I did.”

Lottie watches you curiously as you move to take something out of your pocket and show it to her and you notice the exact moment she registers what’s in your hand.

“A quartz.” She takes it from you like it’s the most fragile thing in the world, “It’s a pink quartz.”

“Is it?” You ask, stifling a yawn with your hand, “I don't know a thing about those stones and stuff, just thought it was pretty and you would like it.”

“Well, I do like it very much. Thank you.” Lottie gives you a soft smooch on the cheek, “And it's not a stone, baby, it's more like a gem or a crystal.”

“Hmm,” you hum in agreement.

She leans her entire weight against your body and smiles innocently when you complain: “Misty told me the other day that gems like that mean peace and unconditional love.”

“You've been talking to Misty? About rocks and gems?” You look at her in disbelief.

“I feel really lonely without you here with me, you know?” Lottie shrugged.

You felt a little guilty and moved closer, leaving a kiss on her shoulder.

“I'm sorry, Lot. I miss you when I'm away too,” you murmur, rubbing her arm in comfort, “Why don't you tell me about your day?”

Lottie rolls her eyes in a way that reminds you so much of the days when you guys would get together to talk shit about everyone you knew in these stupid parties that your heart skips a beat.

“Ugh, if I hear Mari complain about one more damn thing, I’m going to tell you to stop chasing bears and order everyone to serve her for dinner.”

“Please, don’t.” You snort a dumbfounded laugh, “They might actually do it.”

You end up lying down with her curled up and facing you, gently drawing small circles on your hand.

“Got something in your mind?”, you brush some strands of hair from her face affectionately.

“I just have no idea what to do with… them,” she shrugs hesitantly.

You know what she means immediately and move to take her face in your hands, feeling her lean into your touch.

“Oh, Lottie.”

“I know what you and Nat do for us is very important, but I wish you didn't have to,” she mumbles, as if she were confiding a secret, getting impossibly close to you. “I wish you would stay here, with me, where it is safe. Is it too selfish? Want to keep you all to myself?”

You let out a shaky breath, not trusting your own voice when you can feel her breath against your lips like this.

“Well, if Shauna can hide her diary in the attic like a freak then I guess you're allowed to keep some things to yourself too, hun.” You stutter, feeling your skin heat up in embarrassment.

“But you're not a thing.” Lottie wrinkles her nose.

“You can keep me anyway, I don’t mind.” You shrug this time, faking indifference to make her laugh.

And she does, “Babe!”

Just when everything is silent and you think Lottie has slept with your legs wrapped around hers and using your arm as a pillow, she speaks again:

“You know, my new quartz would make a really cute necklace.”

“Lot,” you yawn against her hair.

“Will you use it if I make one?” She looks at you, blinking her big brown eyes in the most convincing way possible, “Just this one, please, for me?”

You sigh, “Yes, Lottie. I'll use your magic stone.”

She deflates, “Don’t talk about it like it’s crack, babe.”

Lottie kisses you slower than usual before you leave as she finally notices the pink gem hanging from your neck and you happily ignore Natalie's mockery as you run after her to catch up to the forest.

[inklore]

garage rooftop

premise: the lines of friendship or something more grow more blurry the longer your eyes move from each mole, his cheek bones, his dark eyes, his lips. and you really don't understand why the two of you hadn't become something more ages ago.

pairing: ben solo x (f)reader

word count: 1k

contents: college au, fluff like this is nothing but fluff with one sexual innuendo and that's it, friends to lovers, quick mention of han being a lackluster dad sorry it's for the plot.

note: let's ignore that i actually wrote this back in april and just never got around to editing it but now that i'm in my driver era i had to come back to it. the title is from this song that i highly rec listening to while reading <3

The way his face morphs into something that was once joyful and silly—the blissed high that paints your cheeks red from laughing too hard over being overheated from how weightless it feels to be laying on the roof of your apartment building. The space decked out with rugs, blankets, and cushions from past and current tenants, mostly college kids like yourselves. 

Making it the perfect place to get high and look up at the sky at night. The city lights outshine the stars, but the clouds—and the strain of ganja Poe recently snagged from his dealer—give the same ethereal effect. 

“Why haven’t we ever...”

“Ever what, Solo? Dated?” There’s a pause between your words, and a slow, sly smirk moves across your lips as you look over at him. “Fucked?” 

The blush painting his cheeks quickly moves down to his neck as he shakes his head in laughter, biting his lower lip to hide whatever feelings are currently making him look like a shy schoolboy—something he was far from. 

It’s the “both. Why haven’t we done any of it?” That makes you both fall silent. That makes the joyfulness fade and something else fill the air the longer the silence spreads between the two of you. 

And it’s not the weirdest question or the wildest thing that’s come out of either of your mouths. 

It’s a question that makes you wonder, why? Seriously why? With the longer you stare at him, the more you take in the nervous tick of his chiseled jaw. The way his dark hair falls into his face each time he laughs and he has to continuously push it out of his eyes. How the crook of his nose looks oddly kissable and more attractive than you’ve noticed it before when it’s this close to your face. 

When the haze from the weed is making your body feel limitless and swoony. 

It’s a feeling that has you turning on your side. Putting a hand under your head shifts your body closer to Ben’s. Smiling when he doesn’t act phased in mirroring you, his body moving in the same motions and position as yours. Now putting the two of you so close that you can feel his breath hit your face, and the space between your legs barely exists without some part of him touching it. 

The two of you had been friends for forever, it seemed. Stuck in the woes of academia, making your parents proud does that to you. Makes you lose track of time and forget how the two of you became friends after getting into an argument over a Hamlet book in the library. 

A fight Finn quickly broke up, but Poe enthusiastically cheered on. 

The lot of you—Rose and Rey included—became inseparable after that day. Something that didn’t have a timestamp or expiration in your mind. It just happened. 

And now you have four best friends, and you’re coming to the conclusion that you’ve possibly liked one more than that. The lines of friendship or something more growing more and more blurry the longer your eyes moved from each mole, each scar, and each strand of hair. His cheek bones, his dark eyes, his lips. And you really don't understand why the two of you hadn’t become something more ages ago.

“Have you wanted to?” 

“The fact that you’re asking me tells me that you’ve never noticed. I’m not that subtle.” 

“Nose stuck in a book at all times, Ben, not subtle?” You make a sarcastic face, “yeah, who would ever think you’re subtle?” 

His knee nudges your thigh as his cheeks rise in that smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the edges. “You think I’d let Poe or Rey borrow my stuff? Steal my takeout from the fridge—which I know you do—without consequence?”

“In their defense, Poe and Rey have three late library books from two years ago and only you and I like the takeout you get from the bodega on the corner, so…it’s not really a fair asses-”

The squeal that comes from his fingers digging into your sides, pinching the skin at your hip and rib bones, fills the air and knocks the wind out of you all at the same time as you realize the position the two of you have wrestled yourselves in. 

Strands of dark hair moving against your forehead, your fingers instinctively reach up to brush the strands from both of your faces. Ben’s lips so close to yours that all it would take is a heavy breath and you’d be kissing. The relaxing rhythm of your heart now feeling like a hammer in your chest. 

Ben’s fingers run along your jawline, resting at your chin. 

“What if we did?” He asks. Searches your face for any reaction or indication that the subject should be changed. That he should stop asking, and the two of you should move away and pretend like this never happened. Go back to how things were—which was clearly not subtle and most definitely screaming ‘I’m in love with my best friend’. 

“Why have you never asked until now?” You answer with a question. 

“Losing my best friend is not the traumatic life experience I’d like to put on my resume beside divorced parents and an absent father.” He jokes, his smile playful, as the pad of his thumb draws small circles against the skin of your jaw. 

“No wonder you’re unemployed.” The two of you laugh, breaths mingling in the joys of this moment. Of the jokes that come easy and the touches that seem to come even easier. But then there's silence, and you’re leaning closer to him, a feathering touch of your lips against his as you murmur, “maybe you should stop being so afraid, Ben Solo. And have me.” 

And if you’ve ever felt like there was something missing—some cataclysmic event in your life that could rewire your nervous system and make you feel like you’ve been barely making it, your heart barely beating and keeping you alive: Ben’s mouth is the puzzle piece as he brings your mouths together in a bruising kiss. 

[moviecritc]

a night to remember ⋆ mick schumacher

pairing: mick schumacher x fem!oc (named Dominique)

tropes: one night stand

summary: mick was feeling down in the bar with his friends and dominique came in the best moment to cheer him up, but after that night they found out they were going to work together for all the season.

warnings: insinuations, slutty behaviour from the oc

a/n: english is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes and poor storytelling.

wattpad | letterboxd | masterlist

Mick didn't wanted to be there, not at all.

They were in Sahkir, after the testing of the new season incoming and they didn't went as good as he thought it would be, so he was feeling a bit down. But anyways George dragged him to the bar with him and other fellow drivers.

They were all drinking for fun and vibing to the music because their testing went really well. Mick, on the other hand, have already seen critics of his way of driving and people comparing him to his dad. He hated that, everything he does is compared to what his father's done. Mick loved his father with all his heart, but he's not only his surname.

"Mick!" Lando shouted, already tipsy. "There's a gorgeous blonde that can't take her eyes off you!"

"What?" was the only thing he could articulate. Mick looked around, trying to find that girl probably Lando has invented.

"That girl," he pointed directly at her, making her lift her eyes to him. "She's eyeing you, you see that?"

"Maybe because you're pointing at her so bad it even hurts me," Mick said, rolling his eyes.

"Nah, she was looking at you before. Trust me on this one, bro," Lando insisted. He took a long sip of his drink, finishing it. And after that he ordered another one to the waiter

"I'm not really in the mood, and you should stop drinking," Mick advised, pressing his lips.

Lando let out a long sigh and even rolled his eyes to make it more dramatic.

"Yeah, whatever. She's pretty, and you're pretty too," Lando argued. Mick lost the thread of the conversation, since when Lando thinks he's pretty? "I think you should go and talk to her."

"And I think you should stop thinking,"

"Why are you so boring, man!" Lando said, almost shouting.

"I told you, I'm not in the mood," he remarked, sipping in his drink.

"You know what?" Lando said. Mick thought it was a retorical question, but then he saw Lando truly waiting for him to answer.

"What?" he wondered, with a long face.

"If you're not talking to her, she is talking to you!" Lando said, before getting up.

"Wait, what the fuck?!" Mick tried to grab Lando's shirt, but he was already really close to that girl. "Fuck..."

He gazed out the whole scene; how Lando started talking -bothering- that girl by tapping her in the shoulder and how she looked totally confused about what he was saying. Then, Lando pointed at him and that girl, instead of frowning and giving him a bad look, as Mick thought it would be, she smiled at him softly and wave him shyly.

Lando took her with his arm and walked her to Mick.

"Mick, mate! This is Dominique, isn't she gorgeous? I told her you said that, so you have to agree with me," Lando said very fast, stepping on the words.

"Uh, yeah," he was getting nervous. "I mean, absolutely! You are gorgeous, yes."

Dominique gave him a wide smiled but she quickly began to blushed.

"Well, I'm gonna find George and all this people, so you can have a little bit of peace," Lando said and when he left, he winked ant Mick in the weirdest way possible.

Dominique sat by his side at the bar counter and ordered a cocktail to the waiter. "Thanks," she said, when the waiter returned with her drink. "So..."

She was ready to start a conversation, but Mick interrupted her with a grin.

"I'm really sorry about my friend, he is drunk and I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable," he excused himself, pressing his lips together.

"Oh, no worries! I mean, I was actually eyeing you," Dominique admited.

"You were?" Mick was totally surprised, and maybe a bit excited.

"Yeah! I came here with my friends and I've been telling them all night that you looked really cute from afar, and even cuter this close," she lean a bit into him, brushing their shoulders. Mick couldn't say a word. "Now you have to compliment me back, darling."

"Oh! Yeah, I've said it before, you are stunning," he said, trying so hard to not hesitate.

She laughed. "So, what are you doing in Sahkir? You don't look very local, we're not gonna lie,"

"Neither do you," They both laughed. "I'm working here,"

"Oh, me too!" Dominique said. "Well, sort of. Tomorrow is my first day,"

"Nice," Mick was going to add something, but Dominique quickly took the word

"So... you wanna hook up or something?" she asked, finishing her drink.

Mick almost have forgotten why Dominique was talking to him. She just wanted to hook up, that was her aim since their first interaction. Flirt a bit and then go straight to fucking.

"Okay," he agreed.

She was a beautiful woman and definitely his type, why would he denied it?

Mick felt off the whole time. They didn't have that connection like his other relationships, they were just two strangers fucking. And it hurt him knowing that Dominique only talked to him looking for sex.

Maybe he's just an idiot but for a few seconds he thought they were connecting in some way. Obviously, the next morning she was gone.

🌷🌷🌷

"Girl, I just hooked up with some random guy," Dominique rushed to get out of the hotel where she left Mick sleeping.

The first thing she did was calling her best friend, who was in the other side of the country.

"Dom! We talked about this," her friend said, sighting. "You have to stop turning into a slut everytime you drink."

"Hey, I'm not a slut, I'm slutty. Know the difference," Dominique tried defending herself.

But her friend was totally right, when Dominique gets drunk she doesn't scream or crazy dances, she flirts with every guy that appears in her way. Before Mick she also was watching some of his friends aswell, but it was Mick the one who caught her eye.

She hated that facet of her, going hungover her first day of work is not something to be proud of. She just got hired by Haas to be an engineer in the upcoming season of Formula 1. Dom actually didn't adore the job, she was never a fan of the sport, or any sport in general. But travelling all around the world sounds too good to say no. And also the pay really good.

Her new collegues were the ones who dragged her to the bar that night. "I think I'm gonna kill myself," she said to her friend, still on the phone. "I was awful, awfully awful. I turn into a horny bitch-ass anytime I drink,"

Dominique sighed and she drink a long sip of water, in an attempt to make her headache leave.

"No man peace," her friend said, with a little laugh.

"Oh, shut up. It makes me fell like a horrible person. And the man seemed so sweet and nice,"

"You're not a horrible person," her friend assured. "You're just slutty,"

Dominique rolled her eyes. "Ok, I'm gonna hung up now,"

She took a taxi to get to the circuit where the practics where being held. It was the first time in all her life that she has put a feet in a Formula 1 circuit. One of the workers of Haas show her the whole place, ending the sort-of-tour in the Haas garage.

"And this is Mick, you are going to be his engineer the whole season," he said and right after that he leaves them alone.

They both recognized each other at the very first moment. She could've been drunk as fuck, but Mick has the bluest eyes she has ever seen and she remember them perfectly.

"Wait, you work here?" Mick asked, astonished.

"Yeah... isn't that obvious?" Dominique pressed her lips together, forcing her to not smile.

"Well, you didn't tell me yesterday," he argued.

"I was focusing on your pretty eyes," Dominique admited.

Mick lower his eyes for a moment, hiding his blushed cheeks to get into character again.

"You know, you're not the first person of referred to me as pretty," he said with a smirk.

"You should be proud, pretty boy," She didn't know why they were flirting in that way. "I actually thought you would be mad at me,"

"Yeah? Why?" he questioned, crossing his arms by his chest.

"Well, I wasn't very nice the other night. But it's something that happens to me when I'm drunk, and I also weren't in the mood of talking," she admited.

"Oh, really?" he exaggered. "I didn't even realize."

Dominique looked away because of Mick's sarcasm. "If you're going to start with sex jokes I'm gonna leave," she made the gesture of going away. "I'm sorry, ok? I was a total bitch yesterday..."

Mick didn't say anything.

"Now it's when you deny it and tell me that I'm super cool and gorgeous," Dominique insisted, biting her lips.

"It's okay. Dominique, right?" They both laughed.

"Yes. You were Mick, right?" she didn't leave him time to answer. "I don't know why I asked, I totally remember your name,"

"Ok, now I'm impressed!" Mick said, walking with her to the inside of the garage.

"I told you, I'm a cool person. And I actually thought you were cute," she remarked.

"Really?"

"No,"

They bursted into laughs.

"You're funny," Mick said.

"No, I'm being serious. I don't like you at all," she insisted, still smiling. "Like, if you asked me for a date I probably throw up,"

"Now you're being dramatic. You can't be that level of dramatic with someone you just met," Mick said, frowning in a very cute way for Dom's eyes.

"Try me,"

Mick didn't even think twice. "You wanna go on a date with me?"

"Yes,"

They went silent for a few seconds. "So no vomit?"

"No... sorry for disappointing you, darling," Dominique pressed her lips together.

"Calling me darling without being on a date, how lustful," Mick rolled his eyes.

"Alright, bro," Dominique hit him with her fist in his shoulder. "Don't you think we should get some work done? Let's do some driving and strategic shit,"

Mick blinked a couple of times. "Do you know anything about Formula 1?"

"Not at all,"

"Cool,"

"You see? I'm super cool,"

"I didn't mean you,"

"Shut up, Mick." she said right after. "Or I'll cut your brakes,"

They kept that dynamic for the rest of the day. Dom's insinuations increased practicaly every minute, and Mick adored answering her something three times worse. And at the end of the week the long-awaited date arrived.

Even though they were staying at the same hotel, Mick insisted coming and pick her up.

"Oh, hi," Dominique said with a smirk. She chose a nice light pink dress and he was wearing a linen shirt. "It's nice seeing you with something different than fireproofs and that awful suit."

"You can't say that, Dom. It's bad for the team image," Mick insisted.

She loved that he started calling her Dom instead of the usual Dominique, it made her blushed in the craziest way.

"Darling, we have no team image," Dominique said, smiling.

Mick rolled his eyes dramaticly. All over the week she didn't stop bullying the team. She was right about all the things she says? Absolutely. But if someone except from Mick hears her, she probably will be jobless again.

"Where are you taking me?" Dominique asked, hooking his arm to Mick's.

"I know a nice restaurant in the city, sounds good?"

"Sounds delightful," she smiled softly. "You're paying, right?"

Mick bursted into laughs. "Of fucking course, I'm a gentleman,"

"If you say so,"

"Then we can do fifty/fifty," Mick shrugged his shoulders, pursing his lips.

"Alright, I'll stop. I'm ready to have a nice and relaxing evening," Dom said. "And then we're fucking."

"On the first date? Daring,"

"Deny it," she made a short pause. "Go on, deny it,"

The silence was loud and then Mick looked at her with a devilish smile. Mick drove to the restaurant while Dominique was changing the song every minute. At the restaurant he sat facing the window and they ordered food to share.

They talked and laughed a little bit too loud. The dinner went so good that Dominique was worried, how can a human being be that interesting and that cute?

"Hey," Dominique changed the way of the conversation when they were arriving to the hotel. "We're not going to fuck."

"Really? I thought that was all you wanted. Again,"

Dominique, between laughs said, "No, I'm being serious. I want to do this in the right way,"

"Wait, we're going to have three dates so I can kiss you?" Mick said, wide-opening his eyes.

"No, no. I was hoping you would kiss me like... right now?"

"Cool,"

Mick leaned into her, and she had to stoped him so she could control her laugh and finally their lips interwinted. In that fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in each other. She could feel her heart racing, matching the rhythm of his own. Dom entangled her hands in Mick's hair, pushing him closer to her.

Mick put a hand in her back and she took that as a sign to separate their lips.

"Mick, hey," Dominique said, connecting looks with Mick. He was totally blushed. "I'm being serious, I want to take things slowly."

"Okay, I can do that," he nodded, with a soft smile.

"I mean, we are working together so maybe if we go very fast we'll have problems and I don't really want to have problems, because you're very sweet and I like you."

She left out a long breath.

"You like me?" he faked susprise. Dominique rolled her eyes and then she felt how Mick grabbed her hand softly. "I like you too, Dom. Just to be clear,"

"Oh, thank you. How thoughtful,"

Mick laughed. "C'mon, I'll walk you to the door of your room."

[gravehags]

unraveling a stitch

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: Teen

Tags: mushy gushy feelings, first meetings, Imperator serving cunt, reader thinks she's going to be murdered, ministry backstory

Words: 1,981

Summary: This is the weirdest job interview you've ever had.

a/n: ok this ended up being like 1,500 words of conversation between reader and Sister Imperator but one thing about me is I'm a bitch who loves backstory so

divider by @gothdaddyissues!

To say you are nervous would be putting it extremely fucking lightly.

You’re sitting in the back of a car - a very nice car at that - and being driven out to somewhere in the middle of the countryside. Idly, you hope that Sister Imperator isn’t actually some kind of serial killer. She seemed nice enough on the…what was the system they used? Doom call? The preliminary interview went well, you thought. You had managed to succinctly answer all of the questions the older woman had thrown your way, surprising even yourself with the calmness in your voice. So impressed was she by you that she asked you fly out - fucking fly out - to visit her at what she deemed “The Abbey.” When she emailed you a ticket confirmation later that night, you were stunned.

And now, here you are.

You had left the airport about an hour ago, meeting up with the large man who stood stoically in the arrivals area with a small sign bearing your name. The driver has remained silent the entire drive, but every once in a while you catch him glancing at you in the rearview mirror. When you crest a hill and descend into a forested valley you gasp audibly at the sight. A vast collection of stone structures - probably the size of a university - sit within the trees. You gaze out the window with your jaw dropped as you drive through a multitude of well-manicured lawns and gardens towards an enormous gate, which opens as the car approaches. The driver pulls in and continues down a long driveway up to a large wooden door.

Oh shit, you think, this is happening.

Panicked, you adjust your hair and straighten your skirt before clambering out of the car. You turn to thank the driver but he’s already gone. Weird.

“Welcome,” a warm female voice says from behind you. The woman from your interview, Sister Imperator, stands in the doorway and for the first time you’re finally able to get a good look at her. She’s a handsome woman, her grey hair in a neat bun, wearing a suit. Very prim and proper, you think, until your gaze turns downwards and you see the electric red stilettos on her feet.

Oh work, grandma.

You smile and look back up at her, meeting her incisive gaze. You can imagine what she was like in her youth - hell maybe what she’s like now - and the men she’s cut down to size.

“Hello, Sister,” you say, extending your hand for her, which she takes in both of hers. “Thank you for having me.”

She steps sideways and gestures for you to enter the impressive stone building. When you walk in your jaw drops at the gorgeous stained glass that illuminates the space with bouncing colors. 

“Wow,” you say, slowly turning in a circle to drink everything in.

“I’m pleased you like it,” she says with a small smile, guiding you down the hall, “I’m sure you’ll enjoy many things the Abbey has to offer.”

The walk to her office is quiet, punctuated by the crisp snap of her heels on the marble floor. Your little black heeled witch boots, which you had thought were quite chic, pale in comparison. After climbing a flight of stairs you reach a solid door at the end of a hallway, which she opens for you. The room inside is equally as impressive as the rest of the Abbey, with high ceilings and large windows that look upon a green little courtyard. She takes a seat behind the large desk and gestures for you to take yours, which you do with some anxiety.

“Thank you for this opportunity,” you say, fingers tangling in your lap.

She smiles again. “Of course, dear. I will be blunt with you, I may have misled you regarding this interview and indeed…about this job.”

Your own smile slowly drops, as does your stomach.

“What,” you begin nervously, eyes darting around the room, “what do you mean by that?”

Shit, shit, shit. You really were fucking stupid, just agreeing to come out here to the middle of nowhere to meet a woman you’ve met once over the fucking internet. Your mind reels back to the serial killer thought you had earlier and you’re convinced you’re going to die here and this woman is going to bury you under a topiary.

She must see the panic in your eyes because she holds up her hands in an assuaging gesture. “You’re perfectly safe, I apologize for my ominous wording. What I mean to say is the nature of this collection is quite…sensitive. As is our organization who holds it.”

Your shoulders drop from their tense fight-or-flight position and you sigh. You feel silly as you clear your throat.

“Er…what exactly is this organization? You call it the Abbey and you carry the title of Sister…is this some sort of religious institution?”

“Yes,” she begins slowly, eyeing you cautiously, “ah, if I may ask…do you hold any religious beliefs? I apologize for the intrusive nature of this question but it is relevant.”

“Oh, um. I don’t,” you say, slightly hushed, “I’m sorry, I’m not Catholic or a believer of…well anything really.”

You’re taken aback when she sighs in relief.

“Oh good,” she says, steepling her fingers. Good?

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” you say after a beat, confused. “You want someone who isn’t religious to care for your collection?”

“Let’s just say we want someone more ah…open minded.”

You’re growing frustrated with the way she’s dancing around the truth and you frown.

“Sister Imperator, I don’t mean to be blunt but can you please just tell me what it is you do here?”

Her lip curls into a wry half-smile, clearly pleasantly surprised by your directness.

“The Ministry,” she begins, “represents those devoted to the cult of the Olde One. We are as old an institution as the Catholic Church yet far more…subtle in our ways. Out of necessity, you understand.”

Your jaw drops a little.

“You’re Satanists?” It’s more of a statement than a question and she’s pleased you’ve put two and two together.

“Indeed. We’re a small but mighty group that is spread throughout the world. This location,” she gestures to the walls around her, “is like our Vatican. Our collection here is that of Satanic art throughout history and requires someone with a special understanding of our church but most of all a level of education and expertise that many here lack.”

You’re stunned. You had no idea these people existed beyond individual belief systems and teenagers rebelling against their parents.

“If this is your Vatican,” you begin slowly, “does that mean you have a pope?”

Sister Imperator lets out a dry little laugh.

“All in good time, my dear. But first I must tell you, this ‘interview’ is entirely a formality. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve had the job since we ended that call.”

Your shock and wonder rapidly turns into joy as a grin splits your features. You fucking did it.

“Oh my God,” you blurt out, “wait, sorry. Is that offensive?”

When the sister snorts out a far more genuine laugh this time, you beam at her.

“Does this mean you accept the position?”

“Yes,” you say a little too quickly. The opportunity to work with an art collection held by fucking Satanists has you spinning. “Absolutely.”

“Wonderful,” she says, clapping her hands together and standing. “We’ll sort out the details of your employment and your move to the Abbey later but for now there is someone I would like you to meet.”

You dutifully follow her out of her office, practically floating as she leads you down the hall and down the stairs. You exit onto an open-air cloister and you encounter the first people other than the sister and the driver you’ve seen here. People of all genders in black habits of all styles - some very racy, you notice with a blush - congregate and walk down the halls. Sister Imperator leads you through and you notice the way they shy away from her in either deference or fear. It’s hard to say which.

She stops at a closed door and waves a hand towards it.

“This will be your office,” she says lightly, “it once belonged to our dear departed Cardinal von Shreck who was previously in charge of our collection. His work, however, fell to the wayside in recent years with his declining health. You will be inheriting quite a mess of paperwork from him, I’m afraid.”

You shrug.

“I’ve had worse,” you respond and Imperator continues down the hall and makes a left. The Abbey is massive, you think, much larger than you previously thought. Once again she stops at a door and gives you a brief smile before knocking.

“Entrare!” comes a muffled voice, and she pushes the door open.

The room is cozy but beautiful, filled with books and papers. But that’s not what draws your eye.

Making his way towards you and the sister from behind the desk is a man. He wears a vivid red cassock with an unusual bejeweled symbol you make a note to ask Sister Imperator about later. On his head is an angular hat and you smile at how it looks like he’s wearing horns. He’s not tall, but he still makes for a surprisingly commanding presence when he moves before you. Now that he’s closer you can better see the rest of him - his startling mismatched eyes surrounded by black paint, his swept back brown hair littered with silver, the pristine sideburns, his large, straight nose and the neat little mustache underneath it. Everything about him is charming, you think. Even dashing.

And then you realize you’re staring.

Imperator notices and gives you a peculiar look.

“This is Cardinal Copia,” she finally announces, “you will be consulting with him as you work with our collection.”

Cardinal, you think. Wow.

“Your Eminence,” you say, extending your hand. Sister Imperator smirks at the title and Copia blushes. Not missing a beat, he takes your bare hand in one of his gloved ones and lifts it to his mouth to place a slightly damp kiss on the back. His black lipstick leaves a little mark on you and you feel a flutter in your belly.

“No ‘Eminence’, signorina,” he finally speaks, his voice filled with nervous energy, “Simply Copia.”

You beam at him, you can’t help yourself, there's just something about him that makes you feel warm and mushy inside. He’s barely spoken half a dozen words and already you know that there’s something special about this man.

“Poor von Shreck,” Copia says, wringing his hands, “we lament his loss, but I am glad to see that Sister has found such an excellent replacement. And such a lovely one at that.”

He looks stricken with fear as soon as the words leave his mouth and you flush from head to toe.

“I’ve heard he’s left behind quite a bit of work, but I’m sure I’ll be able to tackle it, especially with your help.” Your smile is encouraging and he seems to relax a little under your kind gaze.

“Indeed. I am at your service, signorina,” he says with a little bow that makes you giggle. Clearly having reached her limit of the two of you interacting, Imperator places a hand on your shoulder to guide you out.

“I’ll see you soon, Cardinal,” you say with a little wave as the sister steers you out of his office. He gives a little wave back and you find that after the door shuts you miss his presence already. Imperator eyes the goofy smile on your face shrewdly before starting back down the hallway to her office. You follow, feeling as if butterflies are ricocheting off the inside of your stomach.

Cardinal Copia, you think. What a lovely man.

[bucketspammer4life]

☆ How The Boxers Drive ☆

made this bc evil (im running out of excuses) this has been rotting in my queue for a while now

Glass Joe

- Really paranoid, i dont blame him cars are really flammable

- will panic if even one scratch gets on his car

- Just really careful with where he parks & when he parks

- if anything suspicious is on his windshield he'll panic because what if its used to mark him for something

-you know how moms go "slow down your gonna crash!!" if you speed up while driving? Yeah thats him

Von Kaiser

- unhinged driver, he'll go 50 kilometers a hour with the most bored expression ever

- put on your seatbelts because he loves to take sudden turns

- you have to hold on for dear life to anything because he doesnt understand what the words "slow down" means

- do not turn on the lights, just dont or he'll literally hiss at you

- driving like hes in a police chase, damn peepaw slow down

Disco Kid

- blasting his ears out + also going ridiculously fast

- you better hope the radio stops after a crash or you'll die to california girls

- doesnt do sudden turns thankfully

- drives even faster at nighttime, disco is really out for blood

- dont even bother honking at him, he cant hear you over his 92827298272 hour playlist

King Hippo

- he cant drive, what are you all on

- no literally, even if he could find a car to fit him, he still wouldnt be able to operate it

- too overwhelming for him anyways

- He gets carsick too easily

Piston Hondo

- actually responsible & obeys traffic laws (LIKE A LOSER!! BOO TOMATO TOMATO TOMATO RUN OVER PEOPLE INSTEAD!!)

- cant listen to music while driving, it just doesnt work for him

- if you honk at him he'll stare into your soul

- actually reading the road signs (LIKE A NERD!! BOO TOMATO TOMATO TOMATO THE LAW SUCKS)

- overall responsible driver

Great Tiger

- another driver from hell

- honks to communicate with people, at some point you'll have to consider ripping off the steering wheel or your ears

- blasting his music, he has damaged hearing because of that

- speed limits are for cowards,he'll gladly go 100 in a 30 zone

- reading road signs but not caring at all

Bear Hugger

- oh no.

- okay driver but wont shut up, bear we get it you shouldnt piss off or piss ON a moose you couldve ended it there

- eating snacks in the backseat makes him do the ultimate dad move™ (the hand thingy dads do when you eat snacks)

- "yeah you can push those to the side make yourself comfortable" as his backseat is filled with maple syrup bottles, a pair of moose antlers and the weirdest shit you can imagine, bear im really sure you dont need a entire ass stop sign

- doesnt speed but takes sudden turns way too often for your stomach to stay in one piece (can we get much higherrr, so highhh)

- also honks to communicate

Don Flamenco

- this fucking menace needs to be stopped

- He sings in the car, Don nobody needs to hear you sing poker face please dont crash

- unintentionally speeding, always 5 km over the speed limit

- holy shit he needs his license taken away

- He texts while driving, how worse can you get??

- you know "get in loser, we're going shopping."? yeah thats him whenever he comes to pick someone up

- Does more singing than driving

Aran Ryan

- wait what

- He actually obeys traffic laws & is okay with speed limits? What a switch

- He knows how to shut up too

- He may be a nuisance but he keeps it off the road because nuh uh no one is dying in a car crash today

- has sobbed in his car multiple times (mostly while driving) thats the most you can get him

- him & his car have been through thick and thin, he has laughed in that car, cried in that car, screamed in that car, sung in that car, he has went through everything with his car, it legally counts as an artifact

Soda Popinski

- license, on the kitchen table, NOW.

- he used to drive when drunk when he was a alcoholic (hence his past name, vodka drunkenski)

- doesnt use any kind of navigation when driving, he uses his gut feelings & they either: work, fail miserably or have you end up in a seperate country and either way its concerning

- has crashed into multiple signs & trees

- speeds when bored

- oh my god this man is a mess

Bald Bull

- calm the fuck down

- same deal as kaiser, unhinged driver with the most bored expression ever while asking you "how was your day?" like dude please slow down

- hes the reason the term road rage exists

- will gladly get out of the car to fight someone

- honking at him is a one way ticket to fucking die - land

- i hope awkward conversations are your thing because he'll try to do a icebreaker and ask stuff

- keep the lights off unless its the night or he'll chuck you out of the car like you're a McDonald's™ napkin

Super Macho Man

- jail.

- hes driving on the sidewalk. DRIVING ON THE SIDE FUCKING WALK.

- drives even if hes tired

-suprisingly brash with his car considering it costs a fortune

- He didnt hit the street lamp, it hit him

- blasting the worst music ever as he goes through a quiet neighborhood at 3 am

Mr Sandman

- oh my god finally a good driver

- hes a law abiding citizen

- hes the only one allowed to drive

- the only thing you can get him on is slamming his car door a little too hard but thats better than going 92827281962629912619916281972729229 in a 30 km zone or stopping halfway through to fight someone

- will not talk, ever.

- hes the first option when the wvba needs to ride somewhere and cant find a driver

[motocorsas]

I know you only want the MotoGP ones, but I think the F1 are also good, do, let's pretend they are MotoGP:favorite driver who retired in the last 10 years?, weirdest MotoGP ship you've read a fic about? would you rather visit australia with Jack, japan with Taka or South Africa with Brad (and Darryn)? (even if you are from one of these countries, pretend you've never seen them) who would win a fist fight:Jack or Jorge Lorenzo Favorite track ? is there a rider you wish had a home gp (Moto2/3/E included)? if you were in MotoGP rider what racing number would you have? which currently championship-less driver would gift a championship to? (just one and any category!!)(Dani doesn't count because he has 3 already) coolest looking bike livery (in general or one specific livery) if you were in motogp who would like as a teammate?

favorite rider who retired in the last 10 years: pound for pound, dani pedrosa. i love nicky hayden but he didn't have the same consistency

weird ship you've read a fic about: i am soooo picky about rpf and generally won't read a fic unless it's a ship i legitimately support/think makes sense... sorry rosquez fans

would you rather: go to japan with taka, 100%. i'd propose to him at tokyo tower and we'd go on a romantic honeymoon in hokkaido so he can teach me how to ski

who would win: jack, obviously. jorge is a limp-wristed fairy. he'd try to get theatrical with his moves and end up on his ass in seconds

rider you wish had a home gp: diogo moreira! i miss when motogp went to brazil. i'm a huge proponent of more races in the americas, we really need it. david alonso as well, viva colombia

what number would you have: because my sibling and i are twins, i'd have 51 and she'd have 52. those were the last two digits of our student ID numbers in grade school

what rider would you gift a championship to: i really hate to be that guy but aron canet should get more flowers in moto2. last week one of the commentators during qualifying talked about how canet is strong, there's just always one rider -- one rider! -- on track that's better than him. he's got shit luck and deserves a break

coolest livery: this year's aprilia is pretty slick. i also love boscoscuro but don't understand why they keep switching colors

ideal motogp teammate: my sibling obvs. they're the better rider anyway, i just pay more attention to stats and data. they're all feeling and i'm all head, i think we make a good pair. out of actual riders: fuck it, toprak razgatlioglu. we're putting him in motogp.

[thisisevenharderthannamingablog]

Liveblogging notes for ep. 12. I can't believe there's only two left.

Oh no, Chay, I know you're young but don't be like that.

Porsche is still in house uniform, so I guess he's still part of the security team, just not bodyguarding Kinn?

As I said last time, this eavesdropping thing never ends well. I keep forgetting that this is Porsche's first-ever relationship, which might explain some of his paranoia. Kinn's lots of things and lots of them aren't nice, but he's not gonna cheat on you. (Even if the boys miss him, or at least his wallet.) And it turns out that Kinn has gone off alone to meet with a guy about actual mob business. Kinn arranged for Porsche's uncle to lose all his money to pressure Porsche to take the job way back in episode 1 so they wouldn't lose the house?

This is not particularly surprising to me, but it surprises the hell out of Porsche.

Talking about blood types with your torturer, not on my bingo card sorry. Pete you're gonna get tazed some more aren't you. (There's no way hedgehog is even in the book. Literally no one has a pet hedgehog.)

Porsche is pissed. Why was Korn so intent on hiring Porsche as to go to all this trouble? Kinn still doesn't know, was just following dad's orders. Wants to help so much. They're both upset.

Korn is back to doing pottery, so we're doing all kinds of early-season callbacks now. He already knows what Porsche wants to ask - but first he offers to answer a question he didn't even have, about the car crash? The driver of the other car was a friend of Korn's.

Korn claims to have covered up the crash to help his friend. To have forgotten the matter until Porsche turned up that night Kinn was attacked, then made the connection and tried to make up for what he had done by giving Porsche the job, that he didn't tell the truth because Porsche would not have accepted help.

This is complete nonsense, obviously, and it feels like a diversion. Why did Korn even bring the accident into it?

I think this is the first direct criticism Kinn has ever offered Korn. "Went too far" is putting it mildly, but you have to start somewhere.

Korn was right about one thing; Porsche does not, in fact, accept his help.

Vegas' hedgehog is sick. He leaves the key. Escape attempt #2? Nope, turns out that Pete can't leave the soggiest of wet cats sitting alone on the lawn to ugly cry about his dead pet. This is officially the weirdest pair I have encountered in my journeys through fiction.

Funeral for a hedgehog.

Pete looks like he doesn't know what to do with this information. Same, my guy, same. Gun, why would you have a child take care of hedgehogs? They are not even domesticated. Was the point just to get him used to everything he cares for dying? Because that is VERY messed up, I'm kinda impressed actually.

I don't know how the writers are doing this, what alchemy is going on here. I can't say I ship it, but this is compelling af.

HOLY SHIT PETE just fucking GOING for it?! Gonna fall for a monster, don't mess around I guess. Again with the dizzy camera movement, too. Remember when Pete was shy and kinda goofy?! Cause um... whew. No wonder he didn't want to kiss Porsche, boy's way too vanilla for him.

In a neck-snapping change of tone, the Kittisawats are back at home--and Kinn went with them. Good job, stand by your man. Learn to do laundry, god knows you gave the main house staff enough work. We've come a long way since episode 5, but Porsche is worried his rich boyfriend won't adjust well?

Porsche, remember that Kinn was miserable until you came along? That he would literally rather have stayed lost in the forest with you than go home? You can only get through so many days by means of functional alcoholism and rented sex; he'll be fine. And you were right, he is cute when he smiles.

Teh and Time came to visit? Oh my word, suddenly I am Concerned. Domestic shenanigans are ruined by Korn's arrival, with a picture of the other driver from the accident -- and the guy's address. Innnteresting play, Korn, very interesting. You are down to very few pieces now; what's the idea?

So they go to the address, and Porsche has a gun, and Kinn is offering to go with him because your first murder is a very emotional time for anybody I guess and he's willing to step up. (How many times has Kinn been given a photo and an address and a totally unspoken expectation by his father?). However, the guy's granddaughter is right there so... nah, not doing that.

Super-interesting use of mirrors in this bit? Like it's almost stepping the camera back from the sheer intimacy of it while Porsche breaks down crying.

Back to the bar, where it all started, for a fresh start. Porsche is smiling again, so that worked, and their song is playing. I'm a little worried about all the red light in that scene though.

Kim finally shows up at school and finds out that Chay ditched the whole thing, and is perturbed. Yeah, your actions have consequences, idiot. Chay meanwhile has read the manual: He is dying his hair blue and going out with friends to a bar he's too young for. (At least those friends know that Porsche will kill them if he finds out, although they might not realize that should be taken literally.)

Chay you are gonna get SO sick. Kid's already drunk for the first time, now you want to give him drugs? Not to worry, Kim materializes out of nowhere to slap the guy down. You two already broke up, how are you having a breakup fight now?

More food. That's right Kinn, tell him he's pretty. He is.

Deadbeat Uncle shows up out of nowhere? What the hell? Wants to send his regards to Korn and tell Porsche not to trust any of them, give Porsche a photo of his family that HAS KORN IN IT and ask for money?

[kingflups]

🍅 🍦 🔪 🍄 for writers truth or dare pretty please!

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

For Leon and Luis (Resident Evil)! Who else is it going to be, I haven't had much else inspiration beside those two lately lol

Luis never got his drivers license. Or rather, not techniquely. Growing up where he did, in rural don't-believe-in-modern-technology Valdelobos, who was going to teach him? Once he got to college, he could either walk or take the bus. Sure, he had friends teach him how to drive, and Sure, him and some other children were taught how to drive farm trucks at maybe too young an age (because prior to the cult taking over, they had to get supplies sometimes) but Luis never learned legally.

When he was on the run, he was very careful to never break any road laws.

In AU's where Luis lives, he moves to the states and when they set up an ID for him, they ask if Luis knows how to drive. He says yes. It's not his fault no one asked any details. So he drives around even though he never actually took a drivers class or passed any test.

And he would never, ever, ever tell Leon. Leon wanted to be a cop. I don't think there are a lot of things Leon would loose his cool over, but this is one of them. Driver's classes are literally there to protect other people from crashing in a metally, horrible death. And Leon, who's primary character trait is literally wanting to protect people, would loose his mind. It doesn't matter Luis is the just the most careful driver that's ever been. Its the principle.

Along the same lines as Leon wanting to be a cop, people head canoning Leon as a stoner makes me laugh. I think it's because they look at older versions of him and assume personality wise he smokes (which is still fun, btw).

But look at this baby. Resident evil 2 Leon has never broken a law in his life. This guy still thinks weed is a hard drug. He would leave a party if people were drinking underage. I don't care if he was only a cop for one day before that illusion got shattered, he doesn't touch a joint until he's at least 25. (You can convince me RE4 Leon smokes though)

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

Back when I was actively writing my gravity falls fic monster falls, I had a wonderful idea to have a chapter set in town. I thought it would be cool if I had readers send me their OC's to fill up the background. I will. NEVER. do that again. It was fun, but that fic was so popular I got so many submissions and so many monsters I had to research to describe properly, because god FORBID I not research every monster people sent into me. Werewolves and shark mermaids were easy. But some of you..... some of you beasts (said with love) sent me the most obscure fucking folklore. To this day I know one of them had to be from an anime I still don't know

People who just sent me there fursonas and called them were-whatever animal still make me smile

🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate

God damn you. Fuck. Okay. I don't usually hate characters (dislike? yes, but they usually fit well in their world so I don't hate them) so I had to dig into the recessive of my brain for this one.

This is Sentinel Prime from transformers Animated. I haven't watched this show in probably... ten years? But I fucking hate him. Seethingly so. I got angry writing this. I hate him.

Great antagonist. Show sets him up as an annoying glory hound and makes the audience believe he will likely be due down the line for a redemption. Instead, his power hunger drives leads him into becoming a literal dictator being puppeted by the actual primary villian of the show. Don't be fooled- Sentinel is just as much a powerful antagonist in his own right. In my opinion, part of the reason Transformers Animated is remembered so fondly is because characters like Sentinel starting as irritating but almost allies. The irritating tendency to lie and cheat is treated as a character flaw and nothing more, and it ends being the very thing that throws their planet back into all out war.

Consistent. In a flash back, Sentinel ditches series protagonist Optimus and charcter Elita in the mines when they get attacked. Upon finding out Elita survived, albeit disfigured, instead of being relieved, Sentinel calls her gross to her face, even though his actions (or disactions, really) are what left her that way. For a second I thought this was going to be his moment of self reflection, but it absolutely was not. He's so buried into believing his own false retelling of the past he doesn't comprehend any of this as his own fault (at least, not out loud). And honestly, it's a great move. The writers really commit to the fact the Sentinel makes up his own truth, and once he does, he does not relent.

A very fitting critique for military nepotism babies? This was something that I didn't fully grasp as a kid, but as an adult looking back, the animated team really did a great job on Sentinel. He rose through the ranks through nepotism, making others take the fall for his mistakes, and funding war criminals to move him ahead; and it worked. The series was sadly cut short before their final season due to licensing issues, I would have loved to see the end of Sentinel's arc.

🍅 ⇢ give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing

To start using an outline and then actually use the outline. But I should be realistic here. I think I would benefit from shorter piece lengths. I feel like I focus so much on the actions I want characters to take that I miss out on the opportunities to really describe feelings, environments.... sometimes, things just feel flat. My personal goal this year is to focus more on descriptive language and not just direction. Maybe now that I wrote that down I'll hold myself to it...?

[buttybarnes1917]

just you and i

Ft. fem reader and rockstar!bucky.

Warnings: dirty talk, nickname (kitten/angel), thigh riding, praise kink, somehow also a degradation kink, Bucky is obsessed with Readers innocence, spanking if you squint, public ish sex? minors dni

DO NOT REPOST MY FICS ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION Comments, reblogs, and likes welcome!

word count: 946

******

You were absolutely, without a doubt, not Bucky’s type whatsoever.

Wearing baggy sweatshirts or flannels half the time, no time for makeup or anything like that, you were an all work, no play type.  And that’s what made Bucky so fucking attracted to you.

Ever since your little backstage escapade, you noticed that the number of girls he brought to his dressing room was dwindling and they were leaving his room at a much faster rate. Part of you was curious, sure, but the other part of you was definitely relieved.  

You hadn’t planned on making out with Bucky being a regular thing, but somehow, at least once a day, you found yourself pressed against some wall, in a closet, or in his dressing room, the drummer’s lips on yours, your hands gripping his curly hair tightly as he groaned into your mouth, rutting into your hip.

And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel your panties get wet every time it happened.  

You were just taking inventory of the number of snacks left in the tour bus, sighing softly as you tapped at your iPad.  There weren’t a lot of stops left on the tour, and the snack budget was running dangerously low.  You knew everyone was starting to get a little cranky, and not having snacks and drinks on the bus was going to start a huge problem.  You bent over to unpack the last box of snacks and felt a hard smack against your ass.  You yelped, blushing as you straightened, and Bucky grinned as he leaned against the pole near the driver’s seat.  No shirt covering his dozens of tattoos and a tiny pair of shorts that showcased his bulge, Bucky Barnes was as hot as ever, and you felt your face heat up.

“Hey there, kitten,” he said, moving closer to you.  You blushed a little.

“Hi, Bucky,” you whispered, blushing a little.

“God I love how shy you are,” he smirked and pulled you close.  “It really is a turn on for me.”

“The weirdest things turn you on,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as he pressed kisses down your neck.

“I wanna try something new today, kitten,” he said smirking as he sat down on the main side bench in the bus, pulling you onto his lap.  

“Oh?” You giggled a little.

“As much as I love tasting this pretty pussy,” he smirked as you whined a little, rolling your hips onto his for a second, “I need you to make yourself cum tonight, baby.”

“How,” you asked bashfully, blushing again.  

“I want you to make a mess on my thighs,” he whispered pulling at the band of your sweatpants.

“I…what?” you stammered, and he pushed your sweatpants off.  

“You heard what I said,” he said casually and ran his hand over your ass, surprising you with a soft smack onto your skin. “Kitten, we need to get you some new panties,” he teased gently as he snapped the waistband of your old panties against your skin.  You yelped, giggling a little.

“Bucky, what do you mean,” you asked softly, blushing.  

“I want you to ride my thigh, kitten… I want you to ride it until you cum,” he purred in your ear, and you felt yourself nearly drip with his words.  He smirked, rubbing your clit with his thumb, using his other hand to steady your hips.

“Anyone could walk in,” you yelped, blushing.

“Then you better hurry, unless you want someone watching you grind that pretty pussy on my leg,” he growled a little and you whimpered.  “Come on kitten, make yourself cum for me,” he smirked, rubbing you and you felt your hips jerk into his hand as you started grinding in little circles on his thigh. “Christ, kitten, you’re fucking dripping… is this turning you on? Riding my thigh, in a place anyone could walk in?” he asked, and you moaned in response, moving your hips a little faster. “Everyone here thinks you’re a saint,” he smirked a little. “I know better.  I’ve heard you moan my name when I’m eating you out, tasting your cum on my tongue.  I’ve felt you shiver when you kiss me after and taste yourself on my tongue.  You’re my dirty little angel, aren’t you kitten? My dirty little angel, all mine, just for me.”

“Yes, fuck, Bucky, I’m just… I’m just yours,” you gasped out, moving your hips harder and faster, shaking.  “Fuck, please, Bucky please, please let me cum, please, need it so bad, need it, please—”

“My kitten likes to beg, hmm?” he smirked and sucked a bruise into your neck.  “Wait.  Don’t cum. Need to mark you mine first, so everyone knows who you belong to.”

“Oh my god, Bucky please-!” you gasped out, shaking as he sucked hard on your skin, right at your sweet spot.  He rubbed faster.  

“Cum for me, kitten, cum for me,” he growled, and you cried out, falling forward as you came hard, making a mess over his thigh, leaking through your panties.  Bucky caught you as you fell forward, making sure not to drop you as you shook your way through your orgasm.  “Such a good kitten,” he praised softly, and for once, you saw softness as you looked into his eyes.  You leaned into him, still panting, your eyes shutting slowly.

[svnflowervol666]

you said send in some headcannons so how about some silly/kinda pesty bf harry <3😔🤌

Omg pls I love pesty bf!Harry. This is super short but I loved writing these so much!

Word Count: 1.2k

NSFW

The first thing that comes to mind is cold feet

No matter how many times you tell him how much you hate it, he’d always either wrap his freezing cold feet around yours or reach his legs over in bed to poke you with his toes just to get a rise out of you

I also think he is the type of person to scream bloody murder from across the house and when you come running to see if he’d fallen down the stairs or cut his finger off in the kitchen, he just looks at you and says some shit like, “Come cuddle with me”

100% is the type of bitch to send you pictures of rotten fruit he sees at the farmer’s market or a squished bug he saw on the train and be like, “Looks like you :(((”

Speaking of annoying text messages

He would send you the most grotesque and haunted memes in the middle of the night for absolutely no reason

And would call you after an hour asking why you haven’t responded to them

He’d also be the type of boyfriend to ask you what you’re doing and when you say you’re taking a bath or getting dressed, ironically reply with, “Without me? :(”

Texts you the morning after he leaves your house and thanks you for the head you gave him the night before

Claims it was “some of your best work yet” every single time

Sends you pictures of his outfits and asks, “Does my dick look massive in these pants?”

All of the pictures of him in your phone are ones of him giving you the middle finger because he cannot take anything seriously ever

When you’re driving somewhere, he’d yell at you at an unreasonable volume to be quiet because his favorite song is coming up next and it’s just Get Low by the Lil John

And he knows every single word and tries to shake his ass in the driver’s seat

Sneaks up behind you and slaps you on the ass for no reason

So hard that it hurts and causes an argument sometimes but he always wiggles his way out of getting the silent treatment

I feel like he likes to people-watch, but he’d also lean over to you after every couple that walks by and whisper some shit like, “Do you think she pegs him?” or, “I bet they only have sex with the lights off.”

He definitely steals food from your plate or wants a bite of whatever you’re eating even if he told you he didn’t want it

“It tastes better 'cos it’s yours” lookin’ ass

When you’re eating a popsicle or a lollipop or anything that can remotely be considered sexual, he’d start moaning obnoxiously and mumble something like, “Fuck, takin’ it so well.”

He mocks you with the most annoying valley girl accent even if that’s not how you talk

Simply just to be an asshole

You’d always come home to him digging through your stuff

Using your skincare products or rifling through your drawers

He’d hold up a pair of your underwear and ask you why you haven’t shown him those yet with the dumbest little pout on his face

I also feel like he’d barge in on you in the bathroom instead of waiting for you to come out

If you’re washing your face or brushing your teeth but he has to pee, too bad

The other way around too if you're the one using the bathroom but he’s looking for a specific bottle of nail polish under your sink smhhh

He always sits on the counter and watches you do your makeup and asks you questions about every little thing you do

“What’s that for? What does it do? How is that color different than the one you just used? It looks the same t’ me.”

“How do you not poke your eye out with that?”

Winces when you pull your fake lashes off

If he even slightly chips the color on his nails, he’d whine for you to redo them until you finally cave and fix it for him

He’d walk over to you on the couch and sit right on top of you with his entire body weight, regardless of how you’re sitting

He breathes heavy and chews loudly on purpose when you’re watching a movie to see how long it takes you to glare at him

If you’re playing with his hair and you stop, he’ll find your hand and put it back on his head to ask you to keep going without actually asking

I feel like he begs to be the little spoon

Even if you’re not sleeping over at each other’s house, he’d text you and ask you to come over and spoon him because he’s cold with the pleading face emoji

When you’re both at a party that he didn’t want to go to, he’d pull you aside after some time and whisper into your ear, “Alright, you said hi to everyone....can we please go home and have sex now? M’ dick’s gettin’ lonely”

When he’s sick.....he is the Biggest Baby

Even if it’s just a cold, he’d act like he’s dying just so you pay attention to him

“Doctor’s orders were cough medicine, tons of fluids, and back rubs from m’ girlfriend.”

I can’t explain this, but.... I know he would try to hold toes with you (I’m so twisted for this I know)

Would scribble random notes on all of your things 

Like your grocery list

Bread, tomatoes, cheese, pickles, ... magnum XXL condoms for Harry :-)

Or the list of phone numbers you keep on your fridge

Doctor’s #, vet’s #, car service #, ... for when you need your ass eaten

He’d absolutely interrupt whatever you’re doing to tell you that he finally found the thing that he saw on TikTok at the store

And when he’s drunk he’d try to get you to learn how to renegade with him

And since I mentioned drunk Harry

He is so loud and obnoxious that it’s unbearable 

He’s one of those boyfriends that starts yelling about how much he loves you and will scream at you from across the room just to wave at you and say, “Hiiiiiiiiii!”

The biggest hype man and would squeal when the DJ plays some shit like Kim Petras or Mr. Brightside

Even though he pretends to hate it whenever he hears it anywhere else

He also announces to the room that he’s going home to “make love” to his girlfriend whenever you’re leaving

He��s extremely stubborn to put to bed when he’s that drunk

Claiming that he doesn’t need water because he’s a big boy or that he’s fine and still wants to fuck you even though he’s falling asleep as he’s talking

When you’re finally both lying down and trying to sleep, he rolls over and starts spewing the weirdest nonsense

“Do you think Lewis and Clark fucked? I mean, they definitely did right? I feel like they did. There’s no way they didn’t.”

“You’ve never faked it with me, have you? I don’t think you have, but you’d tell me if you did, wouldn’t you? You acted kinda weird when we fucked in that tent, but that was real, right?” and then get upset when you start laughing at him

“Can we go swimming tomorrow? I wanna go swimming tomorrow.”

I know he wouldn’t do all of this, but annoying bf!Harry lives in my head rent free so I will simply pretend he is like this in real life to some degree

[newtonsheffield]

Spicy Sunday 🌶🌶 Molly cheap thrills was such a surprise - loved it! The flirting 😍 Now we need to fill in the blanks of what happened when Kate brought him home

Absolutely LOVED Cheap Thrills!!!!! Your writing is constantly amazing, I get so excited every time you post! Would it be too much to request more from this universe, maybe some spice🌶? Wishing you a great upcoming week, love from Canada🇨🇦

so…. cheap thrills spicy sunday?

also klepto drunk molly is very unexpected yet welcome

So I hadn't planned to write this AU really. But I told @readandbemerry but my drunk antics and Cheap Thrills was born! A pair of glasses isn't even my weirdest trophy. I once came back from the bathroom wearing a crown that to this day neither my friends or myself can explain. I have no memory of it. It looks like the kind of thing Julius Caesar would wear.

Okay! Let's do some Spice in this Universe, but I also feel like... you already know how it goes. It was in Kate's drink order 😏😏😏😏😏

Anthony really wasn't sure how he ended up in the back of a taxi with Kate Sharma's lips nipping at his neck, her hand settled on his thigh. He hadn't been able to help himself last night, Someone had stumbled, on their way into the bar, and instinctively his hands had reached out to steady them and suddenly he'd been staring down at most probably the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Her dark hair tumbling around her shoulders, her eyes wide with surprise, her smile apologetic as she mumbled Sorry.

"No worries, Hey-" But she was gone. And Anthony spent the next few hours staring at her laughing across the bar. He'd taken his glasses off to clean them, turned around and suddenly there was a much smaller woman staring up at him.

"Are you a good guy?"

Anthony had been startled but stuttered to answer "Yes. Yeah. Umm I think so. Maybe. No, Yes, I am."

She nodded. "And you're how old?"

"Twen-Twenty-nine?"

"And have you ever killed anybody?"

Benedict beside him had laughed bemusedly, "No!"

"And you have a stable job? You're not like... I don't know making t-shirts from the boot of your car or working on your garage band?"

"I'm a barrister?" He really had no idea what was happening but something was compelling him to answer.

"And your name is?"

"Anthony?"

The woman stared at him scrutinisingly for a moment before saying. "Give me your arm." His arm shot out of its own accord, "Well, Anthony," She was writing something on his arm in felt tip, "You should call Kate. Because you've been eye fucking her all night and she stole your glasses 5 minutes ago."

And then she was gone as well, and Anthony had just stared like a stunned mullet as she followed Kate from the bar, his hand already fumbling for his phone.

"You have to call that Girl." Benedict had said a little incredulously but Anthony was already dialling, his heart racing, it just seemed too good to be- Hi this is Kate Sharma, I can't come to the phone right now but leave a message and I'll get back to you. Maybe not too good to be true.

And then He'd seen her at the bar again, her black dress hugging her body, his glasses perched on top of her head like a trophy, even more beautiful than he'd remembered and it had taken everything in him not to march up to her and claim her lips right there. He wasn't really sure what to expect from a woman who engaged in petty theft when drunk and honestly, she seemed mortally embarrassed by it. But other than that, she was razor sharp. Her witty remarks as sharp as her cheekbones, standing toe to toe with him, drawing him closer with each new fact about herself, and before the bartender had even taken his money, Anthony had known he was going to ask her to dinner, and probably out again after that.

He really hadn't expected her to invite him home, hadn't been looking for it, but that wasn't going to stop him from standing and fumbling over himself as they left the restaurant. As he fumbled around on his phone ordering a taxi he could feel her eyes on him, staring curiously. He turned to face her as he hung up, nerves building in his stomach. Their eyes locked together, and jesus she was beautiful, maybe too beautiful in the bright city lights, tension building between them.

"Can I kiss you?" It swept from his chest a little unbidden.

She'd stepped closer to him, her hand on his chest, burning there. And then he dipped his head and their lips met, and it had never felt like this before. Her lips were moving against his, meeting them just like her banter had, perfectly in sync after just seconds, his hands moving to grip her waist, tugging her tight against him, her hands threading through his hair as the kiss deepened, his leg slipping between hers and-

"Oi!" A car horn sounded startling them apart. "If you get in mate, you might avoid getting arrested." The taxi driver was rolling his eyes, Kate ducking her head a little embarrassedly as Anthony pulled her inside, murmuring her address before her teeth started nipping at his neck, heat building between them.

By the time they reached her flat it had reached a slightly desperate stage, hands fumbling down the corridor, his chest pressing against her back as she fumbled with her keys, a low whine escaping her as he ducked his lips to her collarbone, sucking lightly against it, his teeth following, falling through the door as it swung open. Kate's hands were dragging him down a small corridor, her eyes locked on his.

"I don't um... do this that often, I'm sorry if this is... weird?" She started a little awkwardly, breaking the bubble forming around them, Anthony ducked his head cutting her off with another kiss.

"I have to say, this is definitely the weirdest way anyone's ever flirted with me, and I fucking loved it." Her eyes widened, staring back at him, tension thick in the air. And then she moved, her hands releasing his forearms, sliding to her own back, a zipper drawn down and Anthony felt his mouth drop open. staring. Frozen.

"Are you going to-?" Her fingers playing with the hem of his sweater, her voice soft pulling him from his reverie.

"Oh my god, Yes. Sorry, You're just really pretty and I got a little distracted." Anthony couldn't keep the grin off his face as he tugged his sweater over his head, obscuring her eye roll, tugging his jeans off seconds later.

She was staring at him now, her eyes glazing a little.

"So maybe your mum and I do share the same opinion." her hands were tight on his bicep tugging him back to her.

"I knew it."

And then his lips were on hers again, her exposed skin, setting his on fire as their teeth clashed, tongues tangling, her hips moving against his leg between hers.

"What do you want, Kate?"

She looked a little wild as she stared back at him, her voice rough, her lips tugging upwards in a catlike smile, "Mine's a slow screw against the wall."

A whine escaped his chest, his hands tugging on her legs, lifting them to wrap around her turning them, until she's pressed firmly against the wall, trapped against him. Her smile nearly too bright. His eyes questioning, her legs tightening around him. A gasp given together as their hips started moving together, push and pull, his forehead falling against hers, his spine shivering with the little noises she made as he moved against her, her hands tight in his hair. His glasses still perched on her head, forcing a slightly possessive growl from his chest. Heat building in his stomach slowly, simmering, a steady pace, the noice echoing through the room like his heartbeat Oh My god, Anthony, Anthony, Fuck Fuck, Anthony. Her eyes blown even wider as she shuddered against him, falling apart all around him But Anthony held her together, his arms tight around her as he pulled her from the wall, stumbling a little in the few steps, her breathing ragged in his ear as he laid back against the mattress, forcing him to straddle her.

Kate stared down at him, clearly a little surprised, his own voice rough,

"I like to see a woman on top." a small shrug escaping him.

A slightly breathless laugh bursting from her, as she started to rock against him. "We thank you for your feminist efforts."

Whatever witty response he was going to make died on his lips as she started moving in earnest, her fingernails digging into his chest, his hands tightening on her hips encouraging her against him, pushing him closer and closer to the edge, choked words falling from his lips. Holy Fuck, So beautiful, you're so incredible, Needy, greedy gasps, Again, Kate. Kate Kate Kate, Again Please. A soft cry breaking free from her chest, and he fell over the edge as well.

Kate collapsed again him, reaching up and plucking his glasses from the top of her head, her shoulders still heaving as she fought for breath, sliding his glasses back on his face. Her smile a little brilliant.

"I knew you'd look better with them on."

A breathless laugh from his own lips. "Next time you fuck me, I'll wear them for you, Catwoman."

This got way too long, I'm sorry

[theringers]

V-card anon: hi sorry about that first ask i kinda went into a fugue state (spelling?) altered state of reality maybe when i wrote that and damn near outlined a fic in your inbox

The way we played hot seat was either part of a larger drinking game when a certain card was pulled from a deck, or just on it's own. You sit in a circle, everyone has a drink, usually a beer or cider. In the card pull version, the one who pulls the card gets asked a question by every person playing and if they refuse to answer they drink from their drink. In the standalone, you do that but everyone gets a turn being asked until people get bored and leave. Fun way to find out shit about people. Usually the unwritten rule is that you can't lie. I imagine everyone sitting on shitty chouches and chairs in a semi circle around a table full of cups and bottles playing it

Questions i have been asked: are you a top or bottom? Do you like anal? Wheres the weirdest place you've fucked? Body count? Favorite position (sexual)? Fuck marry kill/ignore people in this room (EVERY TIME I PLAYED I GOT THIS QUESTION)? Tits or ass or other? Favorite non sexual body part ex. Thigh? Ideal fuck buddy? Sex regrets? Etc

Also more weird details i have head cannoned out for some drivers and most likely does not fit with irl personalities, do with this what you will, use it or don't i just have feelings. Also everyone is like compressed in age to like 20-27ish except for some of the grid who i will just think of as younger alumns who come back:

Danny R: social chair, owns a jeep he takes the doors off of in the summer, walks girls home at night to make sure they're ok, tries to DJ house events and is rebuffed by literally everyone, has like 30 pairs of vans you trip over in his room, stolen roadsigns everywhere, masters in something arigcultural or physiological, cutoff frat shirts for days, fuckboy but nice, a bit cringe, will drive around with you at night so you can scream, met reader bc she had a band tee on and wanted to talk to her about it (no gatekeeping)

Charles: some kind of engineering or math degree but no one has any idea how the fuck he's gotten so far, 4.0 never studies, games with other house members, will show up at events randomly you will have no idea how he gets on your couch but he is there, the best and worst taste in clothes, is the only one allowed to play the piano in the house, sweet, cannot help you with studies but is always down for helping you out after, has to be reminded to clean stuff, disaster bi, reader met his gf first and they probably met through that

Pierre: good fashion and music taste, shirt is gone halfway through the night, also fuckboy but wholesome, actually studies, plays a sport for sure probably soccer in some way either club or Division he's too good for rec, will hold your hair back so you can throw up, will tell you your outfit sucks, good at math, also part of the squad that games, econ major, workout buddies with reader anday have taken a math class together

Max: is part of the hockey team he will go pro, also actually studies, got into gaming because of Charles, has the nicest car, is serious until he gets a couple drinks in him, he and Daniel are close and roomed together at some point, owns like 30 sets of the same outfit a white tee and jeans, knows reader through Dan and they get dragged by him to some of the same stuff

Lando: is a pledge or new member his big is Carlos, undeclared major, just happy to be here, gaming squad, used to play lacrosse or something equally obscure, king of knowing where the good snacks are, weirdly good at beer pong, growing into a fuckboy wholesomeness level tbd, probably sweet with reader as she helped him through a blackout or something, met her because she's basically house mom for some of the new boys (the kind of mom who will teach you to do laundry or iron ONCE)

Carlos: hockey flow but does not play hockey, actually studies and is smarter than what people give him credit for, came from a private high school and uni really opened his horizons, also good study buddy, gets along with most people, goes to office hours the most out of the actually studies gang, fun at parties, owns the frat dogs, he and reader met at Office hours (they were the only students) and found they had mutual friends too

Lewis: is/was president of frat, great grades greater bod, did full evolution from fuckboy to good man, has the back tests and the moral support, up for late noght talks about life, definitely was a D1 athlete, best fashion game, implemented no hazing policy, fits into notable alum or PhD category

Mick: undergrad like Lando, also plays soccer or something, too sweet, also walks girls home/holds your hair back etc, cleans parts of the house that aren't his responsibility, higher alcohol tolerance than you expect, everyone is bizarrely protective of him, legacy member (his dad was a legend), drives a motorbike around campus and can't decide between law and psychology, actually studies, met reader through the frat and she would die for him, brings her to class on the bike sometimes because the bike is faster

George: business major, frat treasurer, three ring binder business casual in class kind of guy, nice enough, shirt comes off when drunk, runs marathons and a podcast about investments, best notes in the game and great study partner, actually studies, is drinking monster at 6AM but not because he stayed up late, he and reader met through the frat and sometimes drink wine and bitch together

Lance: hockey player, legacy member, studies sometimes, sarcasm on point, great at stack cup, very chill, knows every good nap spot on campus, also has high alcohol tolerance, is the kind of person who does well in the cold but does not like it, wears headphones so people don't talk to him, great one on one but not in crowds, business major and minor in computer science, probably also met thru Lance's gf but vibe as more introverted people and will cover for each other if one does not want to go out

Nicky: a good boy, part of the walks people home squad, sets up designated drivers for parties, good snack game, future in medical field, good listener, pretty good study buddy, midnight snack enabler, met reader through frat and his gf he and reader are on babysitting duty together sometimes when others get too drunk/high

Yuki: also a pledge or new, majoring in games or computer science as they gave me the same energy as him, games squad, bit of a mad lad, has several stolen street signs, good, met reader through frat and Yuki is the only one patient enough to explain some games to reader, they cuss people out on mic

Esteban: good man, has a full ride scholarship, actually studies, also good study buddy, Dan's little, plays soccer but maybe on a rec team because he prioritizes school, very sweet guy as well, probably chose a really practical major/dual major, met reader through Dan and are also dragged similar places by him

Antonio: manbun, philosophy or classics major possibly business dual, generally good natured but can be seen supplying his own wine at parties, used to be really into metal but kept the hair, does not know that people find him attractive, soccer boi, met reader through frat and she's the only one who will (pretend) to listen to him rant about philosophy

Alex Albon: another full scholarship guy, somehow gets along with everyone, switched majors due to an asshole professor, electrical engineering or computer engineering, actually studies, helps with frat pets,will show you pictures of his cats at home, sweetie, another contender for will hold your hair or walk you home, probably met reader through a class or club and found they had mutual friends and that reader is friends with his gf

Notable alums:

Checo - dad, successful in finance somehow (he looks like an really successful accountant of CFO to me idk why)

Kimi - dad but people forget he is, holds the record for most drinks in 24 hours that will never be come close to by anyone else, shows up on random alum weekends with 2 kegs, legally cannot tell you what he does or he would actually have to murder you

Valterri - was good at a sport when he was there, now a very effective lead engineer at an architectural firm

Seb - environmental or mechanical engineering, all around good guy with someone the best grades in frat history

Alonso - legendary for sexual exploits (consensual)

Anyone I put as actually studies is probably the type reader would hang around for more serious stuff/schoolwork and would probably be closer to, with the exception of Dan bc I feel like he'd be like we're friends now :)) we shall hang or Charles bc he will just show up. I also imagine she has a pretty good friendship with any existing gf, however if a driver does have a gf and he is the love interest sorry bb girl u gotta go for the purposes of this fic

Sorry this is so long hahaaaaaaa glad you liked my Charles thoughts ilu

i honestly wasn’t going to share this like the rest of the anon asks i’ve gotten that i keep close to my heart but this was just too good to keep to myself.

LOOK! AT! THIS!

f1 drivers as frat bros/college students headcannon

i’m writing a series - each “chapter” will be a smut with a different frat bro and i’m hoping to post a sneak peek this week some time but here’s something to hold you over and give you some ideas

to my vcard anon - i appreciate this so much. my inbox is always open for ur thoughts bc they are SO GOOD !! can’t wait for you to read the first part of the series bby

PS if some of this doesn’t make sense to u feel free to send in asks (i know a lot of this is focused on american college culture so if u don’t get it i’m happy to explain)

[asgardwinter]

Just Drive

fictober day 04 | “Fine, I give up.”

summary | Clowns, escape artists and an unplanned getaway. That’s not what you imagined was going to happen when you went to work for SWORD.

fandom | Marvel

pairing | Darcy Lewis x fem!reader

warnings | a small amount of curse words

word count | 480

author’s note | this straight forward fluff and funny (just like most others). blame my wandavision rewatch :)

🍁 fictober 2021 masterlist 🍁 Darcy Lewis masterlist 🍁

Saying you didn’t like being inside the Hex was an understatement. The small amount of time you were under Wanda’s control could probably be included in the collection of your worst moments.

Though you thanked the opportunity of seeing your girlfriend punching the circus guy that grabbed your arm.

“Get back here!” He kept screaming on the ground as you, Darcy and Vision made your way to the funnel cake truck.

Since you got in first, you took the driver seat and just started to look for the keys when your girlfriend complained.

“You can’t be our escape driver! You’re too bad of a driver to take us from here.”

“I don’t think this is really the time to bring my deficient driving skills to light.”

“If she can just get us out of here I think it’s perfectly suitable.” Vision said, receiving an irritated glare from her. “I’ve got too many questions…”

“See?” You interrupted him. “He knows things.”

“To your house, I assume?” Darcy asked him like the previous discussion didn't even exist, just helping you to find the fucking keys.

They were nowhere to find. You were almost becoming a contortionist — with no flexibility at all — to see if they fell under the seat.

“Dr. Lewis, my questions.” Vision finally had the moment to ask while you were near freaking out. “Are my children safe?”

“That I don’t know.” Darcy barely turned to him to answer.

“Who’s that impostor Pietro?”

“Not a clue.” You got in the conversation.

Darcy let out an excited “A-ha!” when she found the keys. “Come on, I’m driving.”

“Darcy, just give me the keys.”

It wasn’t even necessary for her to answer, she was looking at you with that face that knew you knew it was better for her to drive but was too stubborn to back down now.

“Fine, I give up.” You mumbled giving your seat to her and bracing yourself at the spot in between her and Vision.

“Drive!” You startled when Vision screamed, too lost into the ridiculous discussion to even remember that you were in the middle of a getaway. “Just drive!”

Well, that was just the beginning of the weirdest escape on the planet. Maybe the Hex was really a separate thing.

…

The drive to get to the center of Westview took long, too long. But if you had to describe it simply you’d say “It was worth it”. The moment you blew the horn of the food truck was for sure in the collection of your best moments, right after crashing with Hayward.

“Have fun in prison.” Darcy said from the deepest places of her heart.

Both of you exchanged a high five that ended with your tangled fingers, somehow. You had time to appreciate the frown in the director’s face.

You only needed to get out of there before the paperwork found you.

ps: now I have a taglist!

[gravehags]

unraveling a stitch - natalie edit

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x OC (Curator!OC)

Rating: Teen

Tags: mushy gushy feelings, first meetings, imperator serving cunt, natalie thinks she’s going to be murdered, ministry backstory

Words: 2,039

Summary: This is the weirdest job interview she's ever had.

a/n: [shakes bag of natalie shaped cat treats] pspspspspspsps

~~~

To say Natalie Sinclair was nervous would be putting it extremely fucking lightly.

She’s sitting in the back of a car - a very nice car at that - and being driven out to somewhere in the middle of the countryside. Idly, she hopes that Sister Imperator isn’t actually some kind of serial killer. She seemed nice enough on the…what was the system they used? Doom call? The preliminary interview went well, Natalie thought. She had managed to succinctly answer all of the questions the older woman had thrown her way, surprising even herself with the calmness in her voice. So impressed was Imperator by her that she asked her to fly out - fucking fly out - to visit her at what she deemed “The Abbey.” When the older woman emailed Natalie a ticket confirmation later that night, she was stunned.

And now, here she is.

She had left the airport about an hour ago, meeting up with the large man who stood stoically in the arrivals area with a small sign bearing her name. The driver has remained silent the entire drive, but every once in a while she catches him glancing at her in the rearview mirror. When the car crests a hill and descends into a forested valley she gasps audibly at the sight. A vast collection of stone structures - probably the size of a university - sit within the trees. She gazes out the window with her jaw dropped as they drive through a multitude of well-manicured lawns and gardens towards an enormous gate, which opens as the car approaches. The driver pulls in and continues down a long driveway up to a large wooden door.

Oh shit, she thinks, this is happening.

Panicked, she adjusts her dark hair - twisted up into a soft bun - and straightens her skirt before clambering out of the car. She turns to thank the driver but he’s already gone. Weird.

“Welcome,” a warm female voice says from behind her, “you must be Miss Sinclair.” The woman from her interview, Sister Imperator, stands in the doorway and for the first time Natalie’s finally able to get a good look at her. She’s a handsome woman, her wavy grey hair in a neat twist, wearing a suit. Very prim and proper, Natalie thinks, until her gaze turns downwards and she sees the electric red stilettos on Imperator’s feet.

Oh work, grandma.

She smiles and looks back up at her, meeting her incisive gaze. Natalie can imagine what she was like in her youth - hell maybe what she’s like now - and the men she’s cut down to size.

“Hello, Sister,” she says, extending her hand, which Sister Imperator takes in both of hers. “Thank you for having me.”

She steps sideways and gestures for Natalie to enter the impressive stone building. When she walks in her jaw drops at the gorgeous stained glass that illuminates the space with bouncing colors. 

“Wow,” Natalie says, slowly turning in a circle to drink everything in.

“I’m pleased you like it,” Sister Imperator says with a small smile, guiding her down the hall, “I’m sure you’ll enjoy many things the Abbey has to offer.”

The walk to her office is quiet, punctuated by the crisp snap of her heels on the marble floor. Natalie’s little black heeled witch boots, which she had thought were quite chic, pale in comparison. After climbing a flight of stairs they reach a solid door at the end of a hallway, which Sister Imperator opens for her. The room inside is equally as impressive as the rest of the Abbey, with high ceilings and large windows that look upon a green little courtyard. Imperator takes a seat behind the large desk and gestures for Natalie to take hers, which she does with some anxiety.

“Thank you for this opportunity,” Natalie says, fingers tangling in her lap.

Imperator smiles again. “Of course, dear. I will be blunt with you, I may have misled you regarding this interview and indeed…about this job.”

Natalie’s own smile slowly drops, as does her stomach.

“What,” she begins nervously, eyes darting around the room, “what do you mean by that?”

Shit, shit, shit. Natalie can’t help but feel really fucking stupid, just agreeing to come out here to the middle of nowhere to meet a woman she’s met once over the fucking internet. Her mind reels back to the serial killer thought she had earlier and she’s convinced she’s going to die here and this woman is going to bury her under a topiary.

Sister Imperator must see the panic in her eyes because she holds up her hands in an assuaging gesture. “You’re perfectly safe, I apologize for my ominous wording. What I mean to say is the nature of this collection is quite…sensitive. As is our organization who holds it.”

Natalie’s shoulders drop from their tense fight-or-flight position and she sighs. She feels silly as she clears her throat.

“Er…what exactly is this organization? You call it the Abbey and you carry the title of Sister…is this some sort of religious institution?”

“Yes,” Imperator begins slowly, eyeing her cautiously, “ah, if I may ask…do you hold any religious beliefs? I apologize for the intrusive nature of this question but it is relevant.”

“Oh, um. I don’t,” she says, slightly hushed, “I’m sorry, I’m not Catholic or a believer of…well anything really.”

She’s taken aback when Sister Imperator sighs in relief.

“Oh good,” Imperator says, steepling her fingers. Good?

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” Natalie says after a beat, confused. “You want someone who isn’t religious to care for your collection?”

“Let’s just say we want someone more ah…open minded.”

Natalie shifts in her seat, frustrated with the way Imperator’s dancing around the truth and she frowns.

“Sister Imperator, I don’t mean to be blunt but can you please just tell me what it is you do here?”

Her lip curls into a wry half-smile, clearly pleasantly surprised by Natalie’s directness.

“The Ministry,” she begins, “represents those devoted to the cult of the Olde One. We are as old an institution as the Catholic Church yet far more…subtle in our ways. Out of necessity, you understand.”

Natalie’s jaw drops a little.

“You’re Satanists?” It’s more of a statement than a question and Imperator’s pleased she’s put two and two together.

“Indeed. We’re a small but mighty group that is spread throughout the world. This location,” she gestures to the walls around her, “is like our Vatican. Our collection here is that of Satanic art throughout history and requires someone with a special understanding of our church but most of all a level of education and expertise that many here lack.”

Natalie’s stunned. She had no idea these people existed beyond individual belief systems and teenagers rebelling against their parents.

“If this is your Vatican,” she begins slowly, “does that mean you have a pope?”

Sister Imperator lets out a dry little laugh.

“All in good time, my dear. But first I must tell you, this ‘interview’ is entirely a formality. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve had the job since we ended that call.”

Natalie’s shock and wonder rapidly turns into joy as a grin splits her features. You fucking did it, she thinks.

“Oh my God,” she blurts out, “Wait, sorry. Is that offensive?”

When the sister snorts out a far more genuine laugh this time, Natalie beams at her.

“Does this mean you accept the position?”

“Yes,” Natalie says a little too quickly. The opportunity to work with an art collection held by fucking Satanists has her spinning. “Absolutely.”

“Wonderful,” Sister says, clapping her hands together and standing. “We’ll sort out the details of your employment and your move to the Abbey later but for now there is someone I would like you to meet.”

Natalie dutifully follows her out of her office, practically floating as she leads her down the hall and down the stairs. They exit onto an open-air cloister and she encounters the first people other than the sister and the driver she’s seen here. People of all genders in black habits of all styles - some very racy, Natalie notices with a blush - congregate and walk down the halls. Sister Imperator leads her through and Natalie clocks the way the acolytes shy away from her in either deference or fear. It’s hard to say which.

Imperator stops at a closed door and waves a hand towards it.

“This will be your office,” she says lightly, “it once belonged to our dear departed Cardinal von Shreck who was previously in charge of our collection. His work, however, fell to the wayside in recent years with his declining health. You will be inheriting quite a mess of paperwork from him, I’m afraid.”

Natalie shrugs.

“I’ve had worse,” she responds and Imperator continues down the hall and makes a left. The Abbey is massive, Natalie thinks, much larger than she previously thought. Once again Imperator stops at a door and gives Natalie a brief smile before knocking.

“Entrare!” comes a muffled voice, and she pushes the door open.

The room is cozy but beautiful, filled with books and papers. But that’s not what draws Natalie’s eye.

Making his way towards her and the sister from behind the desk is a man. He wears a vivid red cassock with an unusual bejeweled symbol she makes a note to ask Sister Imperator about later. On his head is an angular hat and Natalie smiles at how it looks like he’s wearing horns. He’s not tall, but he still makes for a surprisingly commanding presence when he moves before her. Now that he’s closer she can better see the rest of him - his startling mismatched eyes surrounded by black paint, his swept back brown hair littered with silver, the pristine sideburns, his large, straight nose and the neat little mustache underneath it. Everything about him is charming, she thinks. Even dashing.

And then she realizes she’s staring.

Imperator notices and gives her a peculiar look.

“This is Cardinal Copia,” she finally announces, “you will be consulting with him as you work with our collection.”

Cardinal, Natalie thinks. Wow.

“Your Eminence,” you say, extending your hand. “I’m Nat-Natalie Sinclair.” Sister Imperator smirks at the title and Natalie’s stutter as Copia blushes. Not missing a beat, he takes Natalie’s bare hand in one of his gloved ones and lifts it to his mouth to place a slightly damp kiss on the back. His black lipstick leaves a little mark on her and she feels a flutter in her belly.

“No ‘Eminence’, Signorina Sinclair,” he finally says, his voice filled with nervous energy, “Simply Copia.”

Natalie beams at him, she can’t help herself, there’s just something about him that makes her feel warm and mushy inside. He’s barely spoken half a dozen words and already she knows that there’s something special about this man.

“Poor von Shreck,” Copia says, wringing his hands, “We lament his loss, but I am glad to see that Sister has found such an excellent replacement. And such a lovely one at that.”

He looks stricken with fear as soon as the words leave his mouth and Natalie flushes from head to toe.

“I-I’ve heard he’s left behind quite a bit of work, but I’m sure I’ll be able to tackle it, especially with your help.” Her smile is encouraging and he seems to relax a little under her kind gaze.

“Indeed. I am at your service, signorina,” he says with a little bow that makes Natalie giggle. Clearly having reached her limit of the two of them interacting, Imperator places a hand on Natalie’s shoulder to guide her out.

“I’ll see you soon, Cardinal. And it’s Natalie, please,” she says with a little wave as the sister steers her out of his office. He gives a little wave back and Natalie swears she hears a small voice whisper her name behind her as the door shuts. It’s been mere seconds but she can’t help but miss his presence already. Imperator eyes the goofy smile on her face shrewdly before starting back down the hallway to her office. Natalie follows, feeling as if butterflies are ricocheting off the inside of her stomach.

Cardinal Copia, she thinks. What a lovely man.

[xjoonchildx]

airplane, pt. 2 | jjk x reader  chapter two: san juan

pairing: jungkook/reader word count: 6.6K rating: 18+

genre: smut | silly smut | nonsensical smut

warnings:  criminal!jungkook, koreanamerican!jungkook, reality has left the chat, plausibility has left the chat

A/N: okay, ya’ll. I really never intended to make this story anything more than a one-shot...but a couple of people asked for more and then the wheels started turning, and I had more than a little crush on this sexy, smartassed jungkook. so here we are! I hope you guys like it.

xoxo

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

artwork by the shmexy @ppersonna​ who’s smut is even better than her art

************************

You still think about Jungkook Jeon.

You think about him when you spot his beautiful face on the poster in the hallway at your office, with the word WANTED emblazoned across the top.

You think about him every time you fly because you leave condoms behind in the bathroom like some kind of kinky Fairy Godmother.

And sometimes -- late at night, after you’ve had a glass of wine -- you shut your eyes and think about him when you slip between the sheets and then slip a hand into your panties.

You wonder where in the world he is and how he’s getting away with life on the run -- again.

Though technically he’s not your problem anymore.

The Marshals took over his case after he pulled his vanishing act in Los Angeles, so it’s some other poor sap’s job to find him and bring him in.  You’d done your part -- you’d tracked him down and brought him to the States, even got him before a judge.  

So what happened after that didn’t happen on your watch.

Totally out of your hands.

No reason for you to still obsess over how it all went down.

At all.

Right?

************************

The humidity in San Juan hits you like a wall the second you step out of Muñoz Marín International Airport.

You quickly scan the throng of waiting drivers and find the one holding the sign with your name on it.  The suit you’d worn on the plane is already sticking to the backs of your thighs in this heat.

“Welcome to Puerto Rico,” the driver smiles warmly, offering to take your luggage off your hands. You smile back as you follow him to the line of cars idling outside.

The ding of a text alert distracts you for a moment.  

You pull out your phone and see it’s your boss, checking to make sure your flight landed on time.  The driver opens the car door and you slip inside while he pops the trunk to put your bags away.  

You’re so busy tapping out a response that you don’t realize something is off until the driver raps twice on the back of the car.

Because that’s a signal for the car to go.

Because the man behind the wheel is not the man who just loaded you and your bags into this car.

Because the man behind the wheel is --

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you breathe, eyes wide on the reflection in the rearview mirror.

He’s got a snapback pulled low over his face but you can still see his eyes. And you’d know those eyes anywhere. You’ve thought about those eyes a lot more than you’d like to admit.

“That -- “ Jungkook says, pressing the gas, “-- is the weirdest way to say you missed me, too.”

He tilts his head up so you can catch the reflection of his wide smile.

You are in a car with Jungkook Jeon. In a moving car with Jungkook Jeon.  

“Start talking,” you snap.  

“Sure. What do you want to talk about?”

You slump back into the seat and clap a hand over your face. Damn this man and damn his stupid, smart-assed, beautiful mouth.

“Where are you taking me?”

Jungkook snorts at the note of panic in your voice.  

“To your hotel, dummy.  You have a meeting in like, two hours.”

“Unbelievable,” you sigh after a moment. “Do I even want to know how you know all of this?”

“Well in my defense,” he starts, “you guys still have really shitty firewalls.  You’ve got a lot of nerve calling yourselves an intelligence agency with that set-up in place.”

“I’ll be sure to pass along your feedback,” you mutter.

“You should. So anyway, I was reading through your emails one day -- you know, as I do -- and I saw you were coming to town. I couldn’t pass up the chance to see you.”

Holy shit.

That’s a lot to take in right now and you’re still trying to process the series of events that led up to you, in a car with Jungkook Jeon.  You keep asking questions because it seems like the only sane thing to do in this entirely insane situation.

“You read my emails.”

“Yeah.”

“How often?”

“Uh….all the time?”

You blow out an exasperated breath.  

“You’re a real piece of work. Just what makes you think I won’t have this car surrounded by Feds by the time we get to the hotel?”

“You could,” he concedes thoughtfully. He looks up from the road for a moment to lock eyes with you in the rearview. “But we both know you won’t.”

His certainty makes you bristle.  Is he right about that?

You force yourself to look away from him and redirect your gaze outside to watch the carefully landscaped palm trees speed by.  He’s been here for some time, you think, as he navigates the streets with ease.  He doesn’t seem to be looking for his next turn or second-guessing which way to go. He’s not even using GPS.

“You are in some deep shit back home, Mr. Jeon,” you say, finally. “You embarrassed them. They hate being embarrassed.”

He chuckles.

“Don’t you think it’s time to drop the formalities, Agent? I’ve had my tongue in your pussy, you know.”

He startles a laugh from you with his casual, crass statement of fact.  You forgot how funny he is -- how smart and affable and completely disarming he is.

“Anyway, that’s their problem, not mine,” he continues. “And not yours anymore either, from what I understand.”

Boy, he really wasn’t kidding about those emails.

You mentally rummage through your inbox, try to imagine what information he’s had access to these past few months.  Countless agency messages, a few personal ones and at least one exchange that could qualify as both. You wonder if he’s seen that one, too.  

You clear your throat, uncomfortable with the thought.

“So what’s your plan, then? Hide out in plain sight in a territory of the United States?”

“It’s worked for me so far, hasn’t it?”

You roll your eyes.

“Anyway, my plan right now is to drop you off at this hotel,” Jungkook says, turning into the drive. “Then you’re going to skip that reception they have scheduled for tomorrow night because you’re going to have drinks with me instead.”

You say nothing for a moment.

It’s absurd that your first reaction to his words is a tingle of excitement. It’s ludicrous that you haven’t picked up the phone to call this in by this point. It’s fucking bananas that you’re picturing yourself sharing a drink with this man instead of having him arrested.

The car rolls to a stop.

“Now, as much as I’d love to act the part of a perfect gentleman and help you with those bags, I can’t,” Jungkook says, reaching for his wallet and pulling out a small piece of paper. “Your hotel is crawling with cameras and believe it or not, I’m trying to minimize the number of stupid risks I take these days.”

You snort.

He reaches behind his seat to hand you the note.

“Meet me at this address tomorrow night at 7 o’clock. Be sure to wear something tight, yeah?”

“You are out of your mind,” you say from between clenched teeth, snatching the paper out of his hand.

Jungkook laughs.

“I know, right?”

***********************************

You should call the Marshals.

You should really call the Marshals.

Why haven’t you called the goddamned Marshals?

“ -- do you think, Agent?”

Fuck.  

You can’t seem to keep your mind focused on this meeting and now everyone around the conference table is looking at you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that,” you’re forced to admit. “Catch me up?”

“I was saying,” Agent Dominguez starts again, “that given the damage done to the office here in San Juan, we should move agents to the mainland temporarily.  Miami, preferably.”

“Yes,” you agree. “That would be best.  Until we can get things back on track.”

Dominguez smiles in a skeptical way, like he knows you’re preoccupied and he’s curious as to why.  You smile back and hope it’s convincing.  

“We’ll have to go over some logistics, of course, after the final decisions are made,” he continues, turning his attention back to the room at large. “But for now, let’s consider that a flight from Miami is just a hop, skip, and a jump.  It makes sense.”

The rest of the assembled meeting guests murmur in agreement.

Your mind wanders back to that slip of paper tucked away inside your bag at the hotel, back to the man who gave it to you.  The ridiculous, self-assured little asshole who just knows you aren’t going to rat him out. Who just knows you’re going to join him for drinks like he’s not an actual federal fugitive and you’re not an actual federal agent.

Dominguez continues to drone on in the background.

“...and if you look at the numbers, you’ll see post-storm crime is actually way down…”

What you would give to be anywhere but this meeting right now.  You pinch the bridge of your nose, shut your eyes and go down the list of facts as you know them.

He’s been reading your emails.

Following your every move.

He wants to see you tonight.

What the hell is wrong with you that knowing all of this excites you instead of freaking you out? What does it mean that a part of you -- a really big part of you -- wants to take him up on his offer?

******************

Dominguez pulls you aside after the morning round of meetings wraps for lunch.  

“Hey,” he says, stopping you in the hallway.  “Are you alright? You’ve seemed just a little off since yesterday.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you say apologetically. “Been feeling a little off these past two days.”

Not technically a lie?

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” Dominguez replies smoothly.

“Hope you’ll be feeling up to attending the reception tonight,” he continues. “I’d hate for you to miss it.”

You offer him a weak smile.  The look on his face right now is making you a bit queasy.

What if they knew? What then?

Once was insane enough. Once could be written off as a mistake, a terrible lapse in judgement.  An embarrassing and regrettable fluke.

But twice? Twice is a choice, a conscious decision.  

Twice would make you complicit -- a co-conspirator, a co-defendant and a whole host of other “C” words you’d rather not contemplate right now.  

There would be no explaining away twice.

You busy yourself with getting a bottled water from the vending machine just to have an excuse to look away. You tell yourself not to be paranoid. You have no reason to suspect they know anything and this is not the time to borrow worry.

“I’m going to try and get some rest after we wrap for the day,” you say finally, opening the bottle to take a drink.  “See if I feel better after that.”

Dominguez’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes.  

“You do that, Agent.”

***********************

Wrapped in a towel, fresh from a shower, you alternate between staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror and looking back at that damning piece of paper in your hand.

You should put on the nice-but-work-appropriate cocktail dress you’d chosen for the reception that you should be attending tonight.  You should drop this piece of paper in the trash, forget Jungkook Jeon exists and move on.  You should be having drinks with your colleagues from the San Juan office in an hour, making decisions that don’t amount to career suicide and living life on the straight and narrow like a normal fucking human being.

Should, should, should.

You walk over to your suitcase and pull out a slim-cut sundress with spaghetti straps instead. You smooth your hands over the delicate material, imagine the light weight of the fabric would feel just right in this humid weather.  You slip the dress over your shoulders, smooth it down with your hands, turn from side to side to assess the fit.

For a moment you close your eyes and allow yourself to imagine Jungkook slipping his hands underneath this dress, pushing the hem up your thighs. You imagine his thumbs and fingers circling the sensitive skin there.  His lips on your neck.  His voice in your ear.

The sound of an incoming text knocks you out of your fantasy and you open your eyes to see your flushed reflection staring back in the mirror. You reach for your phone.

you gonna make it out tonight? [ 5:48 PM ]

You stare at Dominguez’s message for a moment.

Decision time.

Are you?

************************

You’ve been over every step you took before leaving the hotel at least a dozen times by now.

You’d sent Domniguez a text, claiming to be under the weather.

You’d left your phone in the safe in your room.

You’d walked out of the hotel through a service exit and into a waiting car.

All clear, decisive, sane choices despite the fact that you are obviously a crazy person. Because no one in their right mind would be pulling this kind of stunt.

The ride is short, only a few minutes from your federally-funded accommodations to the much more humble beachside hotel where Jungkook told you to meet him. You give the driver more than enough money to cover the fare and tip and step out into the thick night air.  You spot him a short distance away, sitting at a tiki bar just off the water.

Puerto Rico has apparently been very good to Jungkook Jeon.  

He is reclined casually in a barstool, drinking a bottled beer.  The creamy off-white of his linen shirt is a perfect contrast to the deep golden tan he’s managed to acquire these past few months. He’s let his wavy black hair grow long again and it falls just below his ears. The laugh he shares with the bartender reveals his smile and makes him look relaxed and radiant and fucking perfect.

Jungkook turns in his stool just as you approach and the slow, appreciative once-over he gives you makes your entire body feel warm. The corner of his mouth curves up in a half-smile.

Dammit.

You’ve got to get your head on straight.

Jungkook isn’t some hot, available guy you’re trying to land. He’s a wanted man and the fact that he’s sitting out in the open at this tiny outdoor beach bar makes you nervous. It’s a saving grace that the bar is damned near dead but there are still too many angles, too many clear lines of sight. You’re annoyed that he’s being so flippant about keeping a low profile.  

You wait until you are close enough to whisper before you speak.

“This is a terrible idea.”

He cocks a brow. “Drinks?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” you hiss. “We need to go somewhere more private.”

“Christ woman,” he groans. “Don’t you know it’s polite to wine and dine me first? I’m not a piece of meat, you know.”

He grins when you huff your frustration.

“Besides, if you were really worried about drawing attention --” he pauses, rakes an appreciative gaze across your décolletage, “-- you certainly wouldn’t have worn that dress.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake, does he ever turn it off? Is he incapable of recognizing how risky and fucked up this situation really is?

“You’re an idiot,” you bite out, turning to leave -- but Jungkook grabs for your wrist.

“Relax,” he soothes, pulling you back.  “Seriously.  I have the situation under control.”

A charged moment passes as you give him a long look. His hand remains firm and warm around your wrist.

“Do you trust me?”

What a ridiculous question.  

What you know about Jungkook Jeon could fit on an index card, and what little information you do have doesn’t exactly do him any favors. You’re putting your career -- potentially even your freedom at risk even being here.

But something about the naked sincerity on his face makes you want to trust him.

God only knows why.

You take a deep breath in and out before sliding into the barstool he’s pulled out for you.  The bartender smiles from a few feet away, makes his way over.  You tense, turning to face away and Jungkook puts a steadying hand on your knee.

“It’s cool,” he murmurs. “He knows me.”

“Why on earth do you think that’s supposed to make me feel better?” you fire back.

“I think -- you just need to have a drink,” he reasons, eyes sparkling. He lifts his beer to his lips and you catch yourself staring for a moment at the way the tendons in his arms flex, the way his lips slide over the mouth of the bottle.

Has the simple act of drinking a beer always looked that masculine?

Shit, you do need a drink.

You order a mojito without ever looking the bartender in the eye. Whoever he is -- Jungkook’s buddy it would seem -- he’s understanding about your appalling lack of manners. He can probably recognize a truly fucked-up situation from a mile away and is steering clear like someone with an inkling of common sense.

For his part, Jungkook has dropped the flirtatious act for a moment and the small smile that plays across his face is calm and reassuring.

It works.

“Alright Jeon,” you sigh after a moment. “Let’s talk. How did you do it?”

He takes a long drink of his beer.

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

You’d expected as much. You would bet everything in the bank that his parents helped him get out of Los Angeles.  The kind but guarded look on his face is the closest you’ll get to a confirmation of that fact.

“Ask me anything else.”

“Fine.  How did you pull off the stunt at the airport?”

“Oh, that was easy,” Jungkook teases. “I found the driver holding your name card and offered him twice the fare. He was happy to help me out. Nice guy, actually.”

“He’s lucky you didn’t cut me into pieces,” you grumble.

Jungkook laughs. “You’ve got a wild imagination. Besides, who wouldn’t trust a face like this?”

To make his point, he turns from side to side to offer you a better look at his profiles. Outwardly you roll your eyes, but inwardly it’s hard to ignore the sharp line of his jaw, the perfectly symmetrical angles of his face.  You take another long drink from the cocktail in your hand.

“Why Puerto Rico?”

“Why not? The scenery is beautiful, the food is delicious, and people know how to mind their own goddamned business,” He takes another sip of beer. “Besides, you guys didn’t exactly leave me with a lot of options when you took my passport. And hey -- thanks for that, by the way.  Finding a good fake is a real bitch.”

“We’re not travel agents, Jeon,” you snort.

He laughs.

“So this -- “ you motion to the small building attached to the tiki bar, “ -- is where you’ve been staying?”

“Dammit, woman — I said ask me anything, not everything. You’re not wearing a wire, are you?”  

He grins at the glare you fix him with.  

“I’m kidding, obviously. No way you’d be able to hide a wire under that delightful little number.”

He chuckles when you flush.

“So yeah, this is one place I’ve been staying. Mostly locals around here.  After the storm, so many new people turned up to help rebuild that it’s been pretty easy to blend in with the new faces.  Plus, it’s not hard to find work.”

“So you’ve got this all figured out, huh?”

“Some of it,” he demures, and you can’t help but notice he’s managed to slide a little closer.  His proximity is distracting. You’ve only had one drink and you already feel a bit lightheaded.

Jungkook scrubs a hand down his mouth, fixes you with a long look.

“Now it’s my turn to ask a question.”

“Fair enough,” you concede.

“You gonna go to dinner with him?”

You exhale a nervous laugh against the rim of your glass. You’d wondered if the series of back-and-forth emails between you and Agent Kim Namjoon would come up. You should have known it would.

Agent Kim’s last email came this week. It said he would be traveling to Los Angeles for some training soon.

It said that he wanted to take you to dinner.  

You should have fired back an enthusiastic yes! right away because Agent Kim is hot and smart and to your knowledge has zero outstanding warrants.

But you didn’t.

Jungkook tilts the mouth of his beer against his lips.  

“Well?”

“Yes,” you say, finally.

“Don’t.”

The reply is so abrupt, so emphatic that you have to laugh.

“Why?”

“He’s an empty suit. A cardboard cut-out. Not right for you at all.”

The smirk on Jungkook’s mouth indicates he’s teasing, but his tone indicates something else entirely. The territorial current that runs under his words is annoying and exciting and complicated.

“He’s just trying to fuck you, you know.”

You raise an eyebrow at that.

“Oh, and you’re not?”

“No,” he murmurs, leaning close. “I have fucked you. I plan on fucking you again. He and I are not the same, at all.”

His words set off a throb between your thighs and you shift uncomfortably in your seat, uncross and recross your legs.  Jungkook leans back, looking satisfied with how much he’s managed to unnerve you.

“So this is some kind of pissing contest?”

You laugh to keep the sounds of your words light, but your words come out uneven. “You stalk my inbox for months and abduct me from the airport to what -- keep me from fucking Agent Kim? You hate him that much?”

“I don’t give a shit about Agent Kim,” he snaps. He takes a deep breath before speaking again.

“You know what this is about. Don’t play with me.”

He’s right, of course.  You do know what this is about.  

It’s why you fucked him in an airplane bathroom against all rules of decorum and common sense.  It’s why you’re here, making stupid decisions and taking dumb risks instead of back at your hotel playing it safe. It’s why you’ve never been able to stop thinking about him.

Something connects you to this man, something you don’t really understand -- and now you know for a fact that whatever it is, it isn’t one-sided.

Your body is rigid, unnaturally still as the bartender drops off new drinks and you immediately reach for the glass, if for no other reason than to stall.  Jungkook takes a long sip from his new beer before speaking again.  You can feel his eyes on you but you don’t look back.

“I like you.”  

No sarcastic quip follows. No charged sexual innuendo.  Something about that simple admission is more intimate than the fact that he’s literally been inside you.

“You don’t know anything about me,” is the only thing you can think to say.  

Jungkook shoots you a playful smile.

“I know you like mojitos.  I know you have a standing appointment with some fancy hair salon in LA every six weeks.  I know you order Chipotle far more than is necessary or probably healthy.”

He leans closer and the look on his face changes into something different -- something that makes you shiver.  He slides his hand under your jaw, tips your head up, strokes a thumb across your cheek.  

“I know what you sound like when you come,” he whispers. “I know I’d like to hear that again.”

Oh, God.

This must be what it’s like to drown. To see your demise play out before your eyes but still feel powerless to stop it.  Every smart-assed retort you could fire back dies on your tongue and all you can do is blink when Jungkook brushes his lips against yours.

“And I know you like me too,” he whispers against your mouth.

He’s right.

You do.

You really, really do.

*****************************

It’s like a switch flips inside your brain.  Once you start kissing him, you can’t stop.  

You both fall through the open door to his room in a tangle of limbs and lips.

Jungkook lifts you up off the floor and you immediately wrap your legs around his waist, never stopping the assault on his mouth and skin.  He moans when you lick a stripe up his neck. He tastes like salt and sunscreen and sex and you are so desperate to feel him inside you that you can’t think straight.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he protests, walking you both over to the mattress.  He drops you unceremoniously on top of the bedding.

“Stop.”

“God, no,” you groan, panting.  “Why?”

He takes a deep breath in and out, shoves a hand through his hair.  

“I promised myself I was going to take my time with you if I ever got this chance again,” he explains, voice ragged with arousal. “No cuffs. No rush. Not this time.”

You huff in exasperation and climb up onto your knees on the mattress.  

Jungkook’s eyes widen when you drop both hands to the hem of your dress and pull it up and off in one swift motion.  You’d had to forgo a bra given the skimpy nature of your sundress and it’s easy to forget he hasn’t really seen you naked. The look on his face says he heartily approves.

“Take your time later,” you fire back.  “Take your clothes off now.”

Jungkook laughs.  “Are you always this bossy?”

“Yes.  If you wait one minute longer I’m going to sober up and realize this is a terrible decision. Take your clothes off.”

“Hush woman.”  

He silences you with mock annoyance as his fingers drop to work the buttons of his shirt. You catch your mouth before it drops open as he pulls the shirt off, exposing the chiseled planes of his body.  You swallow thickly when he drops the garment to the floor.  

No human being should be allowed to look like this.

It’s obscene.

The tattoos that run across his hands and forearms extend up to his shoulders, across his chest. The defined lines that outline his abdomen are made even more plain by his deep breaths.  He is -- hands down -- the sexiest man you have ever seen in your life.  

“Shit Jungkook, you’ve been holding out on me,” you breathe, a note of awe in your voice.

“And I knew you had amazing tits,” he grins, shoving his jeans off his hips. “Lie back.”

The gruff command makes your body tight with anticipation.  Jungkook’s face is damp with sweat, locks clinging to his brow when he sinks down onto the mattress and crawls until he’s hovering over you.

“Goddamnit,” he whispers, slanting his lips over yours.  “Goddamnit, I’ve been thinking about this for so damned long.”

You sigh into his mouth.

Me too, you want to say. But you don’t.

“I’ve thought about the way you taste every single day, did you know that?”

He circles one aching nipple with his tongue and teeth.  You whimper at the heavy drag of his tongue.  

“I’ve imagined getting my mouth on you again far more than is normal or sane,” he whispers against your skin, pulling the damp lace of your panties off your ankles and tossing it away.

“Jungkook,” you whine. “Please.”

His lips skate over the sensitive skin between your breasts, across your stomach as he slides downward.  Your body stills when you feel his lips at your entrance, breath warm against your wetness.  

The first touch of his tongue is quick, teasing.  You’re wound so tight your hips jerk off the bed at that light contact.

“Easy girl,” Jungkook teases, sealing his mouth over your clit.  The strong fingers of one hand press into your hip, grip you tight to keep you from pulling away.  He slips one long finger from his other hand inside you to join his tongue in the all-out assault.

“God you are sexy,” he groans, licking deeply into you.  You grab handfuls of his damp hair in between shaking fingers.   “You’ve ruined me for all other federal agents, you know.”

Your laugh bleeds into a gasp when Jungkook slips a second finger inside of you, presses harder against you with his tongue.

“Oh, shit,” you whine, legs trembling. You roll your hips mindlessly, enjoying the way he moans in response.

“You gonna let me hear it again?” his words vibrate almost painfully against your already aching clit. “Be as loud as you want this time, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you sigh in agreement, feeling that telltale prickle building between your thighs.

He sets you off with the firm press of the heel of his hand on your mound.  You can’t control your body’s reaction when the pressure against that sensitive wall and the stimulation of your clit combine.  Your back arches high off the bed when you start to come apart, moaning wantonly.

Your orgasm seems to go on and on forever and Jungkook whispers words of encouragement as you ride it out.  He doesn’t stop with his tongue and fingers until you start to quiver from the overstimulation, breaths hitching when shudders run up and down your back.

“Dammit, Jungkook,” you gasp once you regain control of your ragged breathing.

He laughs as he kisses his way back up your body, across your chest and neck.  You welcome the press of his body when he settles over you.  He grinds his hips down and you whimper at the feel of his rigid cock straining against his boxers.   You clench hard at the memory of him deep inside you.

“Take those off,” you order, scraping your teeth against the damp skin of his neck.

“Ask me nice and I might consider it,” he teases.

You shoot him a playfully disapproving look before pushing against his shoulder until he rolls over.  His eyes fall shut when you climb over him and drag your drenched center against the firm outline of his cock.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he whispers, and you lean forward to seal your lips over his.  He pants into your mouth as you rock against him.

You slide down his body after a moment, hooking your fingers into his boxers and pulling them down with you.

The thing about your hurried little encounter inside that airplane bathroom is that it’s hard to remember the details.  It was so rushed and illicit and bizarre that you can barely recount what he felt like, what he looked like in the moment.  But right now -- when his cock springs free and he looks down at you from beneath heavy lids and he looks so sincerely fucked out -- you make sure to commit this moment to memory.  

Jungkook sucks a strangled breath between his teeth when you take him in your mouth.  His fingers immediately wind into your hair and you sigh around his length when he groans his satisfaction.  His hips jerk when you pull off of him, dragging your tongue against the sensitive spot under the head of his cock before releasing it.

“Shit,” he moans, “I forgot how good you are at that.”

You laugh and wrap one hand firmly around the base of his cock. He’s already leaking at the tip and he hisses when you sweep your tongue across the swollen head. He gathers your hair in his hands, pulls gently on the strands but you can feel the restraint he’s exercising. His body is radiating tension, taut with unspent energy.  

“You can get rougher if you want,” you breathe, pumping him steadily with your hands.  

His agonized groan tells you he’d love to take you up on that offer.

“You can’t talk to me like that,” he pants, words sounding pained. “I’m doing everything I can not to literally blow my second chance here.”

You release his cock with a smile and he pulls away to shift his body up the bed. He reaches into his bedside table and pulls out a condom.  He holds it up for a moment and the two of you share a knowing laugh.

The laughter dies the moment you crawl up the bed to join him and take the condom out of his hand.  Jungkook’s eyes are dark and focused as you rip it open and roll it down his straining cock.  Once it’s in place he steals the air from your lungs with a deep kiss and pulls you onto his lap.  

You’re struck still for a moment when you look down at him just as you are lining him up with your entrance. He looks back at you with those blown-out pupils and kiss-bitten lips and you lose your momentum.  You should say something or do something but it’s so damned hard to focus when he’s looking at you like that.

He brushes a damp lock of hair away from your face with his fingers and fixes you with an expectant look.

You want to tell him how handsome he is.

You want to tell him that he’s the most interesting person you’ve ever met.

But you don’t.  

Jungkook rescues you from your sudden crisis with a well-timed tease.

“You’ve been rushing me since we got here,” he chuckles, brow raised. “You’re gonna leave me like this?”

He grabs the base of his stiff cock with one hand, rubs the head against your clit to make his point. You answer him with a desperate kiss, swallowing the groan he makes when you finally sink down.

His hands move to either side of your ass to guide the movement of your hips.  Your first few thrusts are hesitant, shaky as you adjust to the feeling of him deep inside you.  He feels harder and thicker than you remember.

“Oh, god --” you moan.

You feel his faint hum of satisfaction against your breasts.  He tongues messily at your aching nipples, sucks them into his mouth.  His fingers dig into your ass as he thrusts up to meet your thrusts down.  

His mouth is full of you. His hands are full of you.  You are full of him.  The feeling of filling and being filled is unbearable at this point.  It’s so much stimulation at once that it borders on painful.

“Feel so good wrapped around me like this,” Jungkook groans. “I can’t get enough.”

Me neither, you want to say. I’ve been dying to feel you like this, you nearly whisper.

But you don’t.

You feel disoriented for a moment and grab onto the headboard for desperately needed balance.  It gives you the leverage you need to take him deeper, faster, and the steady rhythm of his thrusts and breaths starts to pick up in speed.

Then you make the mistake of opening your eyes and looking down into his face.

He is covered in a sheen of sweat, eyes hooded and mouth slack with pleasure. He fixes you with a look so erotic you nearly blush.  It’s pretty ridiculous to be literally riding a man’s cock and feel suddenly shy, but that’s exactly what happens.  

You force yourself to close your eyes.

Jungkook buries his face in your neck. You feel one of his hands move away from your hips, down to where the two of you meet. The rough pad of one thumb starts to work your clit and the stimulation distracts you for a moment, makes your rhythm sloppy.  

“I want to feel you come,” he breathes, teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your collarbone and neck. “I want to know what it feels like when I’m inside you.”

“So close,” you whine on a shaky breath.

“I’m gonna go off like a bomb,” he groans, stroking so deep you see stars.  “Take me with you.”

If it weren’t for the one hand keeping you anchored to the headboard, you’d have collapsed onto him with the sheer force of your orgasm.  You whimper as Jungkook’s orgasm rips through him, body shuddering as he pounds harder and faster.  It takes a few frantic, frenzied moments for his rhythm to slow and his moans to subside.

Then you do slump onto him, spent and sweaty and rubbery with utter exhaustion. You’re both still for a moment, damp bodies pressed together as you both catch your breath.

He brushes your hair away from your face and presses a soft kiss to your temple.

***********************************

You take a shower together.  

Afterwards, you both fall back into bed clean and warm.  

You make good on your promise to let Jungkook take his time this go-around.  He fucks you slow and relaxed from behind while you lay side by side.  The steady lap of the waves outside his window is a perfect backdrop as he whispers into your ear and buries himself deep inside you.

Afterwards, everything is still but the waves.  

You both enjoy the complete silence for a while.  Your stroke your fingers across the strong forearm Jungkook has wrapped around you and he breathes deeply into your hair.  It feels natural, somehow.

It feels good.  

You can’t remember the last time anything felt this good.

“Stay with me,” Jungkook whispers after a while, nosing into the nape of your neck.  He drops a soft kiss on the sensitive skin just below your ear.  

“I can’t,” you whisper back.  “I have a meeting first thing in the morning. Don’t tell me you skipped that email.”

He’s quiet for a moment.

“I wasn’t talking about tonight.”

You go rigid from head to toe.  Maybe you didn’t hear that right.

“What?”

“Stay with me,” he says again, like it’s going to make more sense the second time he says it. “We could go all over the world and eat the best food and fuck in the most beautiful places.”  His fingers stroke up your side, sending chills up your back. “It could be great.”

You wait for him to laugh.  He doesn’t.

You pull out of his hold, flip your body so that you’re facing him.  You expect to see his teasing smirk staring back, but you don’t. He looks serious.

“What the fuck was in that beer, Jeon?”

He rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling.

“You don’t have to give me an answer now,” he says quietly. “You could think about it for a while.”

You stare at the side of his perfect profile, dazed for a moment by the strange combination of feelings swirling inside you right now.  

There’s disbelief at the insane Bonnie and Clyde fantasy he’s decided to pitch.

There’s disappointment because there’s a tiny part of you that wants to entertain that fantasy.

And there’s a little bit of heartache because right now he looks so lonely.  

That’s the part that gnaws at you.  It makes you feel raw and exposed.  So you do what you know best and try to redirect with humor.

“Who’s got a wild imagination now, huh?”

His lips twitch into a wry smile.  

************************

You’d waited until you were certain he was asleep before slipping out of his arms and out of the bed.  He slept heavy, not stirring once while you slipped into your clothes and shoes.  He slept like someone without a care in the world.

Hardly.

It had taken a moment to find a piece of paper.  It was only just as you were about to give up that you remembered Jungkook’s note, tucked safely into your bag.

You looked back at him in the bed -- studied him for a moment before quietly scrawling a note on the other side of that piece of paper.

you know i can’t. i’m sorry.