#so it stands to reason it works the other way around

[autisticandoddlyspecific]

My contribution: Not only that, but get to know your neighbors and find any common ground you can. Support the people around you.

Humanity's greatest strength in my opinion is our ability to survive crises when we stand together. Not just literally in front of a government building, but support each other emotionally and materially in any way we can.

The people of Poland for example would not have made it through WWII if they didn't work together to survive day to day.

Whether you're anarchist, socialist, social democrat, communist, or just think republicans are nuts who can't be trusted with the country/wish you could be left the fuck alone, our TOP priority is surviving, so find any common ground as you can with your neighbors. A lot of union workers are actually conservative leaning construction workers, for example. Talk with them about advocating for themselves as union workers, and find friends and allies wherever you can.

As for me, I'm starting with my irl friend group. We're fortunately already close and meet up often, so I'm letting them know I am happy to help them with whatever I can. My older sibling will likely be going back to places they used to be a regular to and rebuild a group of interpersonal connections with which to survive, and we can connect our friend groups together to maximize support.

A proper crisis mode involves generosity and helping others as much as we can manage. Like, don't hurt yourself obviously, but taking care of one another makes us stronger over 99% of the time. A good group will also take care of you as much as possible anyway.

Now I know a lot of people on this site are disabled, so I will once again say that you only do what is possible for you, but if at all possible, try and improve your health. Going into a mini-crisis mode involves changes in lifestyle, and one thing is that many of us simply will not be able to afford poor health. I will see what I can do to put some much-needed physical activity into my day and eat nutritious meals so that my health is as good as it reasonably can be.

And finally, do allow yourself to mourn the future you hoped for, but taking action once it's a feasible option for you is important. My heart goes out to everyone this week, and I hope we'll be able to pull ourselves together enough to push against fascism.

no matter the outcome of this election: organize, build local community, build strength in masses. elections aren't the only time politics happen, it also happens on the streets, in the community and by mutually supporting each other.

the way forward is together. we build power from the ground up. in the US and everywhere else in the world.

a better world is possible and we can start building it now, by ourselves. anarchism starts in the now.

hack the planet

[fatuismooches]

Dottore and his segments get a taste of their own medicine after giving you a job of your own. (In other words, you ignore their need for attention in favor of your work, they get pouty, just like you did.)

As of late, a peculiar sight had made its way into the lab. Actually, peculiar wasn't even strong enough of a word for the agents to use. They had nearly tripped over their feet once they saw the new area of their working quarters in the lab.

In addition to their Lord Harbinger's desk (that was shared amongst the segments depending on the day), there was now another desk on the opposite side of the room, and the cute decorations on it were quite noticeable. Photo frames and stationery. A comfortable and plush chair with a blanket that dropped over it.

... A plushie version of the Harbinger that laid on Dottore's desk, commissioned by you to motivate him.

(A side thought - the number of desks the Doctor had was something to wonder about. One in the lab, one in the office, one in the bedroom - no wonder things were always scattered around the place. But that was something for another day...)

And most importantly, you, Dottore's spouse, standing next to their Lord, rocking back on your heels nervously as he introduced you as their new co-worker.

—

It all began when you approached your husband with a very simple request.

"Dottie, I want a job!" You said with enthusiasm, smile as wide and proud as ever. The scientist paused his work and turned to look at you with a blank expression.

"... A job, you say?" You only puffed your chest out more at his confirmation.

"Yes, a job. I mean, being your lover is already a lot of work for my poor back, but I want to actually work with you! With your research and stuff, like the old days!" Your excitement was completely serious and were it not for your health, it would have been infectious for the scholar. Rarely did he ever meet anyone who was truly interested in his work. But of course, certain restrictions have held you back for a long time now.

"We've already been over this. My work is too dangerous for you," the Doctor sighed as he turned back around to continue whatever he was doing.

"I know, I know, but I meant other kinds of stuff. I've been thinking like... a desk job! It doesn't have to be anything dangerous! I could... sort papers for you? Oh, and you have one of those fancy stamps, right? I could stamp them too! I could rewrite your notes... ah, and the best part - I could help you write reports too! You always liked my essays, didn't you?" You were doing your best to provide Dottore with a convincing case, snuggling up against his firm back. Only another sigh escaped your husband, not really that convinced.

"Come on..." you inhaled his familiar scent, tinged with that laboratory smell that never seemed to go away, but somehow brought comfort to you. "I've been so bored lately... and lonely," you muttered the last part pointedly. "I just want some work to take my mind off things!"

Indeed, there was always limited entertainment and pastimes to occupy yourself with. It was especially boring on days you couldn't get out of bed, or when no segment could afford you attention...

"And you know what, I could give those agents of yours some writing tips, too!"

Yes, there had been many times his employees were not up to his standards, despite how many of them fawned over him (for some odd reason)...

"And I'll be helping you too! It's good for everyone."

Of course, you always felt rather good about yourself if you managed to help him, being the Second Harbinger and all...

"I suppose I shall give it some thought-" Before the man could finish his sentence you started squeezing him tightly while hopping in delight.

"Oh, thank you! So, when do I start? Do I get one of your huge desks too?"

"I didn't say yes yet, darling."

"Shh... we both know what you mean!"

—

And that was how you now clocked in at "work" every day with the agents (later than normal, but you had special privileges.) It was daunting at first for the poor souls, even the ones who secretly admired you from afar (being in the fan club and all.) Even though initially you were merely sorting papers, you were the most important person in that room.

However, soon enough, going to work in this dreary lab became a lot more cheery thanks to your sweet demeanor. Somehow, the atmosphere had become a lot less tense since the last time the segments visited.

The agents had little to no problem speaking to you like a normal person, after you had graciously given them tips on impressing the Harbinger.

"Psst..." you were hovering behind an unsuspecting agent, reading the report she had for Dottore, who jumped at your whisper. "You know, he might click his tongue if you give him that." Although her mask covered her face, you could see that half surprised at how you popped out of nowhere, and half agreeing with your words. Perhaps she felt comfortable enough to spill the situation to you.

"I-I am well aware of that," she deeply sighed, "but no matter what I write, my Lord always seems to be unsatisfied..." You patted her shoulder in sympathy. Having worked with Dottore since the Akademiya days, you knew very well of his distaste for certain things.

"Well, that's why I was hired, friend! To make his and your life easier! See, look here, that's a no-no, he wouldn't appreciate those details, mhm, but this needs to be elaborated on more, uh huh..." Of course, being the good spouse and employee you were, the report was converted into the best one that had ever landed on the Doctor's desk.

On your lunch break, they provided you with some juicy gossip about anything they could get their hands on (the fan club had long reaches, apparently.) Frequently you had to debunk things about Dottore... (the handbook was swiftly revised.)

Needless to say, things seemed to be going well. You looked happier. Motivated. Having new "friends" as your company (that still watched their mouth around you after a single glance from the segments.)

However... an issue arose after a while. One that seemed entirely stupid and impossible.

Now that you were so caught up in your work, when the segments finally had some spare time to come to you, they were... rejected. Yes, they had come to you, fully expecting your devoted attention and kisses that you always gave them without hesitation, but now turned away. (Even more embarrassing, sometimes in front of the agents who kept their eyes glued to their strange chemicals.)

—

It was Omega, of all segments, who was turned away first. The most confident and charming of the bunch left uncharacteristically silent. He had come up behind you and traced his hands against your neck, always being the one who had no shame in touching you. You only softly giggled at the sensation and caught his hand in yours.

"It seems you've been busy for a while, dear." In truth, it was mostly you seeking him out and not vice versa, but the segment hadn't seen you invading his office in a while. The space had gotten too quiet without you.

"Mhm! But I can't imagine how much work you do. My desk is nowhere as cluttered as yours," you smiled as you felt the segment kiss your lashes.

"What do you say to a break with me?" Omega offered, already knowing what your eager response would be.

"Nah, I can't right now."

...

Your words took a few seconds to process through his head.

"Pardon?"

"I have all this work, 'Mega, and other people need my help," you shrugged your shoulders as you swung your legs. "But don't worry. I'm sure we can spend some time later!" You kissed him on the cheek and pulled your chair in before continuing your work.

Omega, the greatest segment, was reduced to a blankly staring man who had been deprived of his lover's attention for the first time.

He was irritable for the rest of the day.

—

Beta was next, the poor thing.

You were always the one he blew off steam to, always willing to listen about his gripes and complaints, offering him consolation in the form of kisses and soft words.

However, you hadn't come to visit in so long, the segment was all pent up and now the agents were beginning to fall victim to him.

Fine then - he'd seek you out. Not because he needed you or missed you or anything of the sort. You were just... halting his progress with the lack of your presence. Yes, that was it.

And so the scientist, donning his grand pink bow tie, swung by your desk.

"So this is where you've been? How boring." Beta was not a segment that you'd want to do paperwork. He much preferred to be hands-on.

"Ah, Beta!" You brightened in delight at seeing one of your lovers. "I missed you!" At least you were always honest about your feelings.

... But to cut a long story short, Beta faced the same conundrum that Omega did.

Someone got turned into a floating Ruin Machine that day.

—

By now all the segments had experienced being turned away from work. Alpha's signature scowl had become permanent. Zandy was pouting the whole day as he missed his parent. Foxttore kept to himself with a pathetic sopping wet eye. His segments were fighting with each other inside his mind, a great nuisance.

All because you were too absorbed with your work to pay them any attention.

... The Doctor was now realizing that it sounded like a very familiar tune sung by you. So this was what you felt for days on end? Now, it was easier for him to understand why you were always upset if you were ignored too much.

Still, it was mortifyingly embarrassing that his segments were reduced to this pitiful state just because you rejected cuddles a few times. Regardless, it was up to him to solve the issue. After all... he missed you too. He wanted you to be around him more often again.

And so the Doctor made his way to his beloved.

There you were, all cozy on your seat as you sorted through some papers. Really, he had no clue you'd be this productive, to be honest. At least it was proof that your health hadn't gotten worse, considering how well you were handling this.

"Aren't you the one who kept saying to take breaks?" His voice made you jump a bit, having not heard him walk up.

"It's you, Dottie! I was wondering when you'd come around. And of course, I take breaks, Dottore. I have lunch with the other agents!" Ah, another party that's been hogging your attention.

"You know, this job has been pretty fun, Dottore! Everyone's real nice, we make jokes, I get to write about interesting things..." You continued to go on about the research and while usually he'd be intrigued by your findings, this time he had enough.

Dottore picked you up like a long cat as you squealed from the sudden grasping.

"What are you doing?!"

"You're coming with me," was his cut and dry response as he lifted you into his arms.

"B-But I have to work on the big report for Pantalone!" Dottore's eye twitched at the mention of the banker.

"Someone else can."

"But I-"

"I'm not listening to anything you say further," he plainly said as he walked with you cuddled into his chest as you gawked at him.

Could he be... jealous? A wee bit lonely? You kept your guesses to yourself as he eventually bought you back to his room and laid you on his bed, not even saying anything to you before sitting at his desk.

Did he simply miss your presence that much? You felt a bit bad neglecting your lovers that much. But to be fair, they kinda did the same... sometimes. You got up to console your silly husband, who was just a man in your hands.

"Hey... I missed you too, dear husband... but I had to make sure no one stole the title of best assistant from me!" Dottore only sighed at your foolishness.

Of course no one could ever replace you.

"I know you'd rather die than admit it... but don't worry. You're lucky I'm sensitive to your feelings," you teased as you kissed the top of his mask. "I'll pay more attention to you and the segments, before they cause another headache for you, love. You'll give me some vacation time off, right?"

You laughed at your own joke before Dottore pulled you into his lap, biting down hard on your neck.

—

"Beloved, would you care to join me in discussing your work?"

"You fool, they're obviously coming to my lab to activate a new Ruin Machine."

"But [Name] is supposed to play with me today!!"

"As if, they're far too busy to join you all with your silly games."

"You all will stress them out with this arguing. Now, why don't you join me instead for a cup of coffee instead?"

"Grr, gr gr, grr!"

It was good to be loved so deeply.

[lovscb97]

tags: park sunghoon x fem!reader, established relationship, size kink, strength kink, bulge kink, d/s dynamics, dom!sunghoon x sub!reader, unprotected sex (plz don’t), breeding kink, creampie, dirty talk, degradation (slut, whore), praise kink?, nicknames (baby, princess, angel, hoonie, etc), slight fluff, lowkey pwp, reader is described to be shorter than hoon and is easy to pick up/throw around, reader is also very down bad for him (aren’t we all), etc

wc: 2.67k

add. notes: hoon won the poll i put out so i present to u my first ever enha work :3 thank u very much to everyone who voted n this will def not be the last enha fic i put out so do not worry there is much to come for hyung line!!! also icon creds to @/v4mpjay :3

. . . 

sunghoon doesn’t know how much longer he can take this. 

it all started when he began going to the gym regularly, slowly bulking his figure up and feeling himself grow out in his clothes. what used to be his lanky frame that greeted him in the mirror gradually turned into a built man with lean muscles and sharper features, adding to what was already there initially. it wasn’t like this wasn’t what he wanted though, albeit the entire reason why he even started working out in the first place being to improve his health and build better habits for himself, but the outcome wasn’t too bad in itself. he got used to feeling stronger, more lighter on his feet or less out of breath when he climbed the stairs, and it was enjoyable to know that he could lift twice his weight and still feel good as new. in some way, things felt like they were going swell.

that is, until you came into the picture.

now, sunghoon’s always known that you’re small compared to him. even when standing side by side, his height next to yours is a little laughable, though he supposes you’re used to that considering you’ve always been shorter than most of your peers. he’s well aware of how you have to go on your tippy-toes when you guys kiss, and the soft feel of your little hands in his is something that spins in his mind constantly when your fingers lace together. it doesn’t help that you always ask him to fetch your favourite mug from the top cabinet too, his larger physique towering over yours each time he leans over from behind you. he likes to tease you about it, revelling in the way you pout cutely back at him whenever he makes fun of you jokingly despite the small smile playing at your lips, but little do you know about the twisted fantasies breaching his thoughts every moment you spend together. he wonders if you would be disgusted? would you dump him and tell all your friends about what a creepy loser he was? sunghoon can’t help but imagine the worst case scenario, and it would be easy to bury these emotions down the hatchet had it not been for the fact that he’s started to think he is going mad too. 

every time sunghoon comes home from the gym, every time he enters your shared apartment, sweat dripping down his forehead and his water-bottle empty, he swears on his dead grandmother that you start checking him out. it doesn’t help that he's always been attentive either, always needlessly easy at picking up the cues of your discomfort when you're outside in a social space for too long, or being able to tell instantly when you're anything other than the happy go lucky girlfriend he usually sees you as. so, when your lingering gaze begins to trail across his arms a little too long whenever he passes your shared bedroom on his way to the shower, or when your mouth opens and closes to swallow before you're pressing your thighs together subtly each time he moves to wipe himself down each time he’s home— it all sparks something in him. it told him to finally, finally indulge in the nasty thoughts he’s kept tucked away to himself once and for all.

except he doesn’t. because at the end of the day, sunghoon is a gentleman. he pulls open the doors for you with nonchalance written all over him despite his burning ears, and he brings you back your memorised coffee order alongside a few sweet treats when he knows you’re on your period. he holds you close when you’re asleep in bed together, rubbing a gentle thumb against the skin of your cheek because he’s aware that’s what it takes for you to fall asleep, and makes sure you know he’s always going to be there for you in any time of need, even if he’s a thousand miles away. he’s never once made you doubt him, never once given you any reason to suspect he could be anything beyond the perfect, storybook written boyfriend he’s always been. 

until today, at least.

it was a day like any other, a day where you wouldn’t have expected things to take the turn they took at all. you and sunghoon were tangled up in your lavender sheets with your leg thrown over his, the morning sun streaming through the beige curtains you’d picked out on your ikea date together, and no alarms were intact to disturb you as it was the weekend. that’s probably why you both found yourselves in your current situation, your mouths meeting sloppily for short kisses and your boyfriend’s cock buried to the hilt inside you, thrusting ever so gently every other second as he whispered sweet praises to you between the meshing of your lips. the only sounds heard beyond the chirping of the birds outside your window were your soft moans and his low grunts, alongside the quiet noises of your slick dragging against his dick.

“fuck, baby. you feel so good.” sunghoon mumbles, pressing gentle smooches along the skin of your chin and jaw. you reply back something unintelligible, too lost in the euphoria he’s providing you to even form a coherent answer, which only makes him chuckle. he pulls back to admire your figure underneath him, a smile spreading across his lip at the sight of you laid out oh so pretty and pliant just for him. for him. all for his use. his use and his use only. the eventual thought makes his cock twitch inside you, and sunghoon momentarily slows down his movements in fear he’ll accidentally lose control of himself and fuck you into the sheets. his loss of momentum causes you to whine out loud though, large doe eyes blinking up at him in wonder, almost as if asking what happened, which does not make your boyfriend’s job any easier.

“hoonie, faster.” you beg softly, one hand coming up to grip his shoulder as the other bundles up the duvet underneath you. “please, wan’ it so bad.” sunghoon feels like his resolve is on the brink of snapping at your words, and he quickly resumes his previous pace (albeit still slower than what you wanted but better nonetheless) with gritted teeth, trying to think of something, anything that would distract him from the realisation of how fucking small you look under him, or how soft your hand feels resting on his skin. it doesn’t help that the sounds spewing from your lips are so cute, only spurring him on further to do what he longs to. 

“yeah, angel? want it faster? want hoonie to fuck you deeper?” he groans out instead, biting his lip at the sight of you nodding almost instantly to his words. your hole clenches even tighter around him as he speaks to you, and he shudders at the sensation. “shit, don’t do that, princess. might cum too quickly.” he exhales shakily, confused when you shake your head. “don’t care. cum f’me. wanna feel it, please.” you plead almost instantly without thinking, sunghoon’s eyes darkening as the request leaves your mouth. his pace comes to an immediate halt after that, and you make a noise of complaint at the loss of pleasure in your lower region, legs kicking up slightly in protest as you eye your boyfriend who’s currently trying to compose himself above you.

“don’t.. don’t say stuff like that.” sunghoon sighs, eyes closed shut as you cock your head to the side. you’re about to ask him why when he speaks up again. “i won’t be able to hold myself back if you do.” he professes darkly, opening his orbs back up to look deep into yours, his smouldering gaze making you shiver. you involuntary tighten around him at his confession, and he hisses at the feeling, head snapping to look down at you and the blush spreading across your cheeks. 

“i-i don’t.. don’t want you to hold back.” you mutter whilst looking away meekly before he can even comment on your actions. you meet his stare again after a beat of silence, but there’s something dark and sinister swimming in it now, and by the time you can even process what it is, he’s suddenly sheathing himself back into your warm walls, plowing into you with a heightened pace as if this is the last time he’ll ever get to fuck you. your moans tumble out of your mouth before you can even stop them, and you swear you hear sunghoon growl at the way you keen from his movements. 

“yeah? don’t want me to hold back? want me to absolutely destroy this wet cunt with my cock? ruin it for everybody else and mould it to the shape of my dick?” he grunts, a smirk spread across his face as you wildly nod at his words. “what, too fucked out to speak now, baby? where’s that confidence from before, hm?” you whimper at his condescending tone, the noise travelling straight to his core as he curses, continuing to plunge himself deep into you. the tip of his cock brushes against that spongey spot inside you, and you cry out when he angles his thrusts to hit it each time he drives inside your pussy. 

“who knew you were such a slut, huh baby? tell me, how long have you wanted me to spread you open and fuck you like i hated you?” sunghoon pants, tongue lolling out to lick at the sweat gathering on your neck. “s-so long, hoonie!” you mewl in response, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he bites down on your skin. “wanted you to— hnng, wanted you to bend me over and throw me around so bad!” sunghoon laughs breathlessly at your answer. 

“yeah, pretty? want me to use my big arms and toss you onto the bed? you should’ve told me sooner that you were such a whore.” you clench at the degrading name, and sunghoon almost stumbles into you at the sudden jolt of shock. “would’ve done everything you wanted me to. wanted it just as bad as you, did ya know that?” he grits out, pace unrelenting and unforgiving as he proceeds to pound into you. “you’re so fucking small, baby. makes me so goddamn hard every time i think about it. just want to, oh fuck— want to hold you down and make you take it.” 

“do it! do it, hoonie, please do it! make me take it, i wan’ take it for you.” you sob, and sunghoon physically feels the last of his self restrain break in half. he’s far too fucked out now to go back to his old ways, far too gone in the dizziness of making you feel good. his only goal now is to make you cum violently around him, and he’ll stop at nothing to achieve that. “gonna do it, baby. just wait, gonna fuck you so dumb, you’ll be begging me to stop.” he pauses momentarily to grab at the plush of your thigh and tosses your leg over his shoulder, resuming his past actions in the blink of an eye as you cry out at the change. he hits deeper, more harsh this way, and you swear you can feel him battering your cervix with each thrust delivered to your abused cunt.

“fuck, look at that.” sunghoon laughs in disbelief, his eyes fixed on the slightly evident bulge of his cock thrusting in and out of you in your stomach. “taking my cock so well, princess. you gonna cum for me soon, yeah? gonna cum for hoonie and make a mess of me?” he coos at the way you’re drooling, swiping a thumb up to wipe at the spit leaking out of your mouth before sucking it off, the visual of it only making you whine even more. by now, the bed is stained with your leaking arousal, but neither of you care, especially not when he involuntarily moves his hand to press down on your stomach. his movements only cause you to double over in pleasure, and before either of you know it, you’re shaking through an orgasm, thrashing and wailing as tears stream down your face.

“shit, shit, shit! that’s so hot, oh fuck.” sunghoon moans. “you did so well, angel. did so fucking good for me, you deserve a reward, don’t you? don’t you, my baby?” he rambles, and you whine in overstimulation as his thrusts grow more frantic and misplaced when he begins chasing his own release. “get ready, princess, ‘m gonna fill you up. gonna breed you so, so good and make you take it, yeah? you’ll take it, won’t you? take it so good for me like you always do.” by this point, you’re both trembling and whining out loud, sunghoon pistoning his hips into you as he desperately fixes to cum. he can feel the pressure building up, his balls tightening with each harsh thrust he delivers inside of you, and you’re more than ready to feel him ooze out of you, encouraging words spilling from your lips.

“do it, hoonie! do it, please! make me full and fuck it back into me. i’ll take it so good, so good, please baby, please.” you’re babbling by now, too fucked out to think let alone speak, but your words seem to send sunghoon over the edge because by the time you’re even halfway through your sentence, he’s shooting ropes inside of you, painting your walls white with his seed. there’s so much of it that it almost leaks out despite his cock keeping you plugged up, and you watch his beautiful face contort in pleasure, eyebrows furrowed and eyes clenched shut as he continues filling you up. 

“fuck..” sunghoon sighs out once he’s come down from his high, looking down to grip his cock and pull it out slightly only to push it back in when your cunt gushes with his release, causing him to bite his lip at the sinful sight. you whine when he moves back into you, his large arms caging your smaller frame in as he leans down to pepper salty kisses all over your face. “my good girl.” he whispers, slightly collapsing on top of you to catch his breath. his weight on you feels comforting, almost natural as you wrap your tired arms around his back tightly, pressing your bodies together even more than they already are to feel closer and connected to him.

“i didn’t know you were into that.” sunghoon speaks up after a moment of silence, causing you to open your eyes and look at him. he moves so he’s laying on his side, cock still keeping you plugged up despite the awkward position. “into what?” he deadpans at your reaction, and you giggle. “c’mon, babe. you can’t seriously look like that and expect me to not be feral for you.” you smile, and sunghoon huffs out a laugh, spooning an arm around you as he pulls your body closer to his warm one. “still, who knew my girl was so freaky?” you swat at him, and his chest rumbles with laughter, the sound sending an odd pool of warmth flowing through your chest. you both lay there in silence after that, basking in each other’s presence and enjoying the serenity and afterglow which comes from what was quite literally the best sex of your lives. 

“i love you.” you hear sunghoon mumble suddenly, his voice drowsy as he yawns cutely, a large grin spreading on your face at the simple three words which leave him. you reach out for his hand, lacing your small fingers in it before bringing it up to your mouth and pressing a kiss to the back. “love you more, hoonie.” you sigh out in satisfaction, eyes slipping shut slowly as sleep welcomes your tired senses.

you gradually drift off, thoughts filled with sweet dreams of your boyfriend and his precious laughter. 

. . .

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

[shdysders]

supposed to hate you

pairing: tara carpenter & female reader

summary: in which tara can’t stand you—or at least, that’s what she keeps telling herself as her feelings start to betray her.

word count: 4.2k

Tara hated you.

She always had, though she couldn't pinpoint exactly why. There was no big moment, no obvious reason, just an unshakable irritation that bubbled up whenever you were near.

It was the way you'd slide into a room like you owned it, or that casual grin you wore like it was a personal insult to her bad day.

And, God, did it get under her skin when you'd laugh too loudly, making yourself the center of attention without even trying.

It was as if everything you did was meant to grate on her, whether it was intentional or not.

Even the smallest things—like how you'd hum under your breath or that habit of fidgeting with anything in reach—felt like they were tailored to press every one of her buttons.

And you knew she hated you.

Somehow, Tara was sure you’d caught on long ago, because why else would you keep doing all those little things that drove her up the wall?

The smug smile whenever she entered the room, the way you’d throw playful jabs at her to get a rise out of her, or that habit of smirking at her determination as if it were a joke.

She could swear you were doing it all on purpose.

But somehow, despite all this, the two of you had ended up in the same friend group, circling each other with forced politeness for everyone else's sake. And for some reason, none of them understood the tension between you and Tara.

Yet the two of you never seemed to have a normal conversation; every exchange was a battleground of snarky comebacks and teasing remarks.

You had this way of throwing her little digs back at her, always one step ahead with some sly remark that kept the tension alive. It was like you'd both accepted that bickering was your default, each ready with a retort before the other had even finished talking.

What made it worse was that, for some reason, the rest of the group found your dynamic entertaining.

Mindy, especially, seemed convinced that Tara's irritation ran so deep because, deep down, the two of you were practically the same.

She'd even pointed out once that, with your stubbornness, quick wit, and constant arguments, you were basically Tara's double. But that idea only made Tara's anger simmer hotter.

The thought that anyone could see her in you was something she refused to accept, and it left her even more determined to despise you.

And it was no different now, as Tara sat in the middle of her English class, which was already dragging when the second bell rang.

Mrs. Jenkins was already droning on at the front of the room, her slow voice making it impossible to keep focused.

Mrs. Jenkins was the type of teacher whose voice could lull anyone to sleep within minutes—a slow, monotone drawl that somehow never wavered, no matter the subject.

She was a small, wiry woman with glasses perched precariously at the tip of her nose, always casting a critical gaze over the top of them as if searching for the next pair of students to corral into cooperation.

Tara usually found herself fighting to keep her eyes open, pinching her wrist to keep her focus whenever Mrs. Jenkins launched into another long-winded explanation.

Mrs. Jenkins was also notorious for her obsession with partner projects. For some reason, she'd decided that her students could never be trusted to work alone, and she always seemed to pair people up in the worst possible combinations.

Almost like she thought throwing everyone into random pairs would somehow force them into cooperation or something.

Tara was just settling in, halfway through mindlessly tapping her pen against her notebook, when you pushed open the door.

You strolled in, two minutes late, looking completely unfazed, like walking in after the bell was some kind of statement.

Just seeing you made her want to roll her eyes.

Her eyes drifted to the empty seats around the room, her stomach sinking as she realized the only free one left was right next to her. She clenched her jaw.

Of course that would happen.

Of course Anika had to stay home with the flu. And of course Tara couldn't help but blame nobody but Annika for her luck, not Mrs. Jenkins for not separating the seats.

You looked around, smirked when your gaze landed on her, and started making your way over. She braced herself, already annoyed as you dropped into the seat with a casual grin that somehow felt like it was just for her.

She shot you a look, voice low but sharp enough to make her irritation clear.

"Do you ever show up on time?"

You shot her a sideways grin, unfazed. "Wouldn't want you getting bored without me."

And there it was again—the familiar spark of irritation, mixed with something else she didn't care to admit.

She crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed.

"Trust me," she shot back, arching an eyebrow with a cool stare that could cut glass. "You're not that interesting." Her voice had that hard edge to it, her words clipped as if she hoped each one would hit its mark.

She felt a flicker of satisfaction at her retort, a sense of determination to get the last word in—just once.

But even as the words left her lips, she knew how this would end. She never got the last word with you; somehow, you always had a comeback ready, some sly remark that kept her on edge, just a half-step behind.

It was infuriating, knowing you'd already won this exchange before she'd even finished talking, and yet, she couldn't seem to stop herself from trying.

So of course, her comeback only made you chuckle softly. You tilted your head, still studying her with that amused glint in your eyes. "You seem to be paying me a lot of attention for someone who's supposedly not interested."

Tara clenched her jaw, already thinking up a response, but before she could say anything, Mrs. Jenkins cleared her throat at the front of the room, pulling everyone's attention.

She held a stack of papers, her voice filling the room as she announced, "Alright, everyone. Today, we're starting partner projects," she announced, eyeing the class as she held up a stack of papers.

"You'll be working in pairs, and since we're short a few people"—her gaze swept over to you and Tara.

And, of course, with Annika out and no one else nearby, it was clear who Tara's partner would be.

"The two of you can work together." She gestured loosely at the two of you with her whole hand, her glasses slipping to the tip of her nose as if she was sealing your fate herself.

Tara's stomach twisted. Just her luck.

Out of all the people in the class, she had to be stuck with you. She could already feel the annoyance creeping up, the certainty that this project would be anything but smooth.

Being around you always felt like walking a tightrope—every word, every look somehow irked her in a way she couldn't quite explain.

She let out a quiet sigh, bracing herself for the inevitable back-and-forth she knew would come with working together.

Mrs. Jenkins continued pairing the rest of the class, her voice droning on as she named off each group.

You seemed to watch each pairing, eyes following her hand as she pointed out partners as if every decision mattered. Of course you were paying attention to all of it, Tara thought, irritated. That was just like you.

Not that she cared who anyone else ended up with. Because right now, all her energy was spent swallowing down the frustration of being paired with you, knowing she was in for a long, drawn-out project full of the exact same tension you'd just exchanged.

Mrs. Jenkins, satisfied with her pairings, stepped back up to the front of the class. She cleared her throat, waiting for the murmur of voices to die down, before adjusting her glasses and lifting the stack of papers in her hand.

She started explaining the assignment, something about analyzing a passage from a novel they'd been studying, breaking it down in pairs to present next week.

Tara tried to focus on the instructions, but she was painfully aware of your presence beside her, the faint tapping of your pen on the desk as you listened with that half-smile still lingering on your face.

She could feel you glancing her way, as if you knew how much this was getting under her skin, and it only made her determination to prove you wrong even stronger.

Once Mrs. Jenkins finished talking and handed out the assignment sheets, she walked around, checking in with pairs as they began discussing the project.

Tara looked over at you, already preparing herself for the inevitable back-and-forth she knew was coming, her expression set.

"Do you even remember what novel we're supposed to be working with?" she asked, her voice edged with irritation.

You leaned back in your chair, folding your arms with that familiar look of feigned concentration. "Oh, yeah. The Great Gatsby, right?"

She stared at you, her fingers tightening around the edge of her notebook. Just when she thought you couldn't be more infuriating, here you were, throwing out the wrong title like it was nothing.

How could anyone be this clueless?

But before she could bite back, you let out a soft, breathy laugh, that glint of amusement flashing in your eyes. "Relax, I'm kidding. It's Wuthering Heights."

Her jaw clenched, annoyance sharpening into something colder as she shook her head. "Right," she muttered, her tone dry. "Because it would kill you to just answer like a normal person."

You tapped your fingers idly on the desk, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. "Alright, so how are we splitting this? Or should I just sit here while you write the entire thing and glare at me for breathing too loud?"

Tara shot you a look, eyes narrowing. "Oh, don't worry, I'm sure I'll be doing all the work anyway," she snapped, unable to keep the edge out of her voice.

Your smirk widened as you put your hands up in mock surrender, leaning back in your chair. "Well, if you're insisting on it, I really can't stop you."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, words caught in her throat as she considered snapping back.

But before she could come up with something biting enough, you tilted your head, dropping the playful tone just slightly. "So, realistically, whose place are we doing this at?"

The question made Tara's irritation deepen into something heavier. The idea of having to work on this project outside of class with you felt exhausting.

But you both knew very well that Mrs. Jenkins' lessons were always cut short by the schedule, leaving too little time to actually make progress in class.

Tara already dreaded the awkwardness and frustration of dealing with you here; the thought of it extending into her free time was worse.

Bringing you to her house was out of the question. Sam would almost definitely be home, and knowing Sam, she'd make a point of chatting with you. It was infuriating that Sam didn't seem to share her distaste for you.

But going to your house? Tara's mind reeled for a logical excuse—something about it felt even less appealing.

Without looking up from her notebook as she jotted down a few notes to avoid meeting your eyes, she muttered, "I was thinking the library, if you've ever set foot in one of those."

You chuckled softly, that amused glint back in your eyes. "I didn't know you cared about my literacy so much. But sure, the library works."

You paused for a moment, leaning a bit closer. "You free after school, or is that the time you reserve for taking that stick out of your ass?"

Tara's jaw clenched, eyes snapping up to meet yours, her pencil threatening to snap under the pressure of her grip. You'd agreed, sure, but you'd managed to infuriate her all the same.

"After school's fine," she said flatly, before turning her attention pointedly back to her notes, wishing the bell would ring already.

Fortunately for Tara, it did, just minutes later, the sharp clang cutting through the tension that had coiled around her like a vice.

It seemed to be the only stroke of luck she could count on for the week, at least.

As soon as the sound echoed through the room, Tara was up, shoving her notebook into her bag with quick, agitated movements. She didn't waste a second, her movements brisk as she ignored your casual, "See you later," tossed her way.

Without waiting for anyone or pausing to catch her breath, she pushed her way through the bustling hallway, weaving between groups of students and dodging backpacks that jutted out into her path.

The sooner she was away from you, the better.

When she reached a spot far away from everyone, she exhaled a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and yanked her phone out of her pocket, still walking. Her fingers flew over the screen as she typed:

guess who i'm stuck working with for the english project?

The response came almost immediately, as if Mindy had been waiting for some kind of drama to break out.

Spill.

Before Tara could type a response, her phone buzzed again with a string of messages from Mindy.

Bryan who always falls asleep in history?

Loud chewing Hannah?

Victor?!

Tara let out a breathy laugh despite herself, rolling her eyes at the rapid-fire guesses. Mindy's knack for dramatics never failed to pull her out of her own frustration, even if just for a moment.

She was about to tap out a reply when she spotted Mindy leaning against her locker, arms crossed and a curious look already on her face.

"Finally," Mindy said as if she hasn't been waiting for no longer than two minutes, pushing off the locker with a grin. "So, who's the lucky partner?"

Tara snapped her phone screen off and glanced over, still holding onto her irritation. "You won't believe it," she muttered, janking her own locker open with more force than necessary.

Mindy's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Oh! Don't tell me it's Brian from algebra—you know, the one who still counts on his fingers."

Tara's lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smirk, but she quickly suppressed it. "Worse."

Mindy leaned in, eyebrows raised. "Worse than Brian?" She tilted her head, rattling off another guess. "Please don't say it's Becca from gym class, the one who makes breathing into a competition."

Tara let out a humorless laugh. "No, but I'd take Becca over this."

Mindy's grin faltered as she studied Tara's expression. Realization dawned on her face, and she gasped dramatically. "Wait, no. Y/N?"

Tara's silence was answer enough.

Mindy's mouth dropped open before she broke into a chuckle. "What, did Mrs. Jenkins draw names out of a hat and decide to create chaos?"

Tara groaned, closing her eyes for a second. "Feels like it."

Mindy nudged her shoulder playfully. "Hey, maybe this is your chance to finally work out whatever weird tension is between you two."

Tara's glare was sharp enough to cut through steel. "Don't. Even."

Mindy laughed, raising her hands in surrender but couldn't help adding, "Come on, Tara. It's like fate's way of telling you to loosen up. Maybe you need a challenge."

Tara shook her head, slamming her locker shut and pushing past Mindy, muttering, "The last thing I need is Y/N's smug face outside of class."

Mindy's voice followed her as she walked away. "Or maybe it's exactly what you need!"

"No," Tara muttered, shoving a stray book into her bag with unnecessary force. "And I don't want to."

Mindy leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. "This is your chance. Come on, Tara, look at you—you need to ease up. You need a good—"

"Stop," Tara interrupted, the flush on her cheeks deepening as she scowled. "Don't even go there."

Mindy's grin only widened, unfazed by Tara's glare. "A good fuck," she finished, drawing out the words with a teasing lilt.

Tara's eyes widened in shock, the blush on her cheeks turning a deeper shade of crimson. "Mindy!" she hissed, glancing around to make sure no one else had overheard. The hallway was busy, students rushing to their next classes, but Tara still felt exposed.

The comment sent a wave of nausea through her as well. "Are you out of your mind? That's not even funny," she shot back, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment and anger.

Mindy just laughed, the sound light and carefree. "What? I'm just saying what everyone's thinking," she said with a casual shrug. "You've been wound up tighter than a drum, and now you're paired up with the one person who gets under your skin the most. Tell me that isn't some cosmic joke."

Tara rolled her eyes, shifting her bag higher on her shoulder. "It's not a joke. It's a nightmare," she muttered, but her voice lacked its usual bite.

Mindy reached out, stopping Tara just before she could turn away. "Hey, just... think about it," she said, her tone softening for a moment. "Maybe it won't be as bad as you're expecting."

Tara pulled her arm away, shaking her head as she started walking again. "It'll be worse," she whispered to herself, willing her heartbeat to slow down as she disappeared into the crowd.

___

It wasn’t worse.

Despite Tara's initial dread, working with you at the library hadn't been as unbearable as she'd anticipated.

Sure, there were moments where your casual confidence and the way you smirked at her when making a point still made her grit her teeth.

You'd tap your pen absentmindedly while explaining your ideas, a habit she found irritatingly distracting. And then there was the way you'd throw in a playful jab every now and then, your eyes glinting with amusement when she huffed in response.

But, to Tara's reluctant surprise, you were sharp, insightful even, when it came to analyzing.

The discussion had gone more smoothly than she'd expected, with ideas bouncing back and forth faster than she'd thought possible.

It struck her, in a fleeting moment she wasn't prepared for, that you weren't as infuriating now as you'd always seemed within the confines of the friend group.

You were still you, with your annoyingly self-assured manner and the smirk that made her want to roll her eyes, but it didn't seem so intolerable when it was just the two of you.

She had tried to shake off the thought, feeling a flicker of annoyance that she even had to acknowledge it.

But just as she had felt they were getting somewhere, her phone had buzzed in her pocket.

Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how she looked at it—Sam had been calling, the texts piling up with increasing urgency, wondering where Tara was and why she hadn't come home yet. Tara's stomach clenched as she skimmed through the messages, noting the slight panic in Sam's words.

Realizing she couldn't ignore it any longer, she had packed up her things, muttering that you'd have to finish another time.

You didn't seem bothered, giving her a nod and a quick, teasing smile that left her more annoyed than she cared to admit as she left the library.

When she had gotten home that night, sleep eluded her. She had tossed and turned, frustration simmering just beneath the surface as she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Thoughts of your discussions swirled in her mind, mingling with that annoying realization that you weren't as insufferable as she had always believed.

Over the following week, she had found herself paying more attention to you than she intended to. It wasn't like she had tried to; it just happened.

You were there, cracking jokes during lunch, your laugh ringing out louder than anyone else's, and Tara caught herself stealing glances when you were busy chatting with the rest of the group.

Even when you weren't around, she found herself thinking about you, which irked her more than she cared to admit.

It was infuriating how often you popped into her head, making her wonder what you would say in any given situation, or how you would tease her if you were there.

Tara gritted her teeth at the thought, refusing to admit how much it bothered her that she couldn't stop.

She hated that you had gotten under her skin, and she wasn't sure what it meant. All she knew was that it felt wrong to be so intrigued by you, and yet, here she was, wondering what you were doing, if you were thinking about her too.

It was confusing. Annoying, even. Tara hated the fact that she couldn't stop thinking about you lately.

But the more she tried to push the thoughts away, the more they seemed to cling to her. It wasn't just that you were smart-mouthed and quick-witted, though those things had always gotten under her skin.

No, it was something else—things she hadn't noticed before, or maybe things she had noticed but refused to acknowledge.

The way you smiled when you thought no one was looking.

Tara had started to notice that your smiles were different when you weren't throwing one of your usual smirks in her direction. When you smiled genuinely—like when you were talking to your friends or when you thought something was genuinely funny—it was softer, almost shy, and it made her stomach do this stupid little flip.

She hated that she even noticed it, but she couldn't help it. That smile wasn't something you gave to just anyone, and that realization made her heart race in a way she wasn't ready to confront.

And that damn smirk.

Tara couldn't get it out of her head.

There was something about it that drove her crazy, and not in the way she wanted to admit. It was infuriating how much she wanted to wipe it off your face—literally, and, to her horror, in ways she'd never imagined before.

She caught herself staring at your lips sometimes as well, wondering what it would be like to just lean in and kiss you, to catch you off guard and see that cocky expression falter.

The thought made her stomach churn with a mix of desire and disgust. What was wrong with her? Since when did she think about kissing you, of all people?

Why was this happening? Why couldn't she just hate you like she used to?

She'd always been good at handling her emotions, keeping them locked up tight where they couldn't hurt her.

But lately, whenever you were around, that control started to slip. It was like you'd found a way under her skin, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get you out.

She hated it. Hated how her heart raced whenever you smirked at her, how her stomach twisted with something that wasn't quite anger anymore.

She'd never felt this way before—this mix of anger and attraction that left her feeling off-balance, like she was constantly walking a tightrope. It was ridiculous, disgusting even, how much she let it affect her.

You were supposed to be her rival, her annoyance, the person she loved to hate. And yet, here she was, her thoughts consumed with you in ways that made her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

She was supposed to hate you, not fantasize about something so ridiculous. But the more she tried to push the thoughts away, the more they lingered, haunting her even when you weren't around.

It was like she was losing herself, becoming someone she didn't recognize. How could she be so weak, so pathetic, to let these feelings take over?

The thought of you seeing her like this, vulnerable and conflicted, made her sick to her stomach. You'd probably just laugh at her, throw some snarky remark her way that would make her feel even smaller than she already did.

She needed to get a grip. This was just some stupid, fleeting attraction, nothing more.

It had to be.

She refused to believe that she actually liked you, that she wanted something more than just the back-and-forth banter that had defined your relationship.

Because if she admitted that, if she acknowledged the truth, it would change everything.

And that scared her more than anything.

So she did what she always did—pushed those thoughts down, buried them deep where they couldn't hurt her.

She'd pretend that nothing was different, that she didn't feel her pulse quicken whenever you walked into the room, that she didn't think about your stupid smirk when she was alone at night.

It was easier that way. Safer.

But deep down, she knew she was just lying to herself. And as much as she hated it, those feelings weren't going away. They were only getting stronger, no matter how hard she fought against them. And that terrified her more than anything.

Because she was supposed to hate you.

[bad268]

Another request for clingy Antonelli, maybe he is coming up as a reserve as one of the Mercedes drivers is sick and f1 gets a taste of clingy Antonelli, trying to keep reader with him at all times including trying to drag her into the drivers parade with him and getting made fun of by all the other drivers and team principals

Just the Way You Are (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Reader)

Clingy Antonelli Universe

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (Took me a minute, but I'm getting back into the swing of long content lol)

Warnings: None

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1715

Summary: Clingy Antonelli meets F1 for his first weekend, and the comments are getting to him.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

“I’m sorry, but do you not understand the point of a driver's parade?” You questioned in a condescending tone, but that didn’t deter Kimi from pulling you down to the track. “It’s for drivers! Not drivers and their significant others!”

“You’re like my personal photographer! This can count as working and getting content,” Kimi reasoned, and honestly, he had a point. Kimi was promoted up to Formula 1 for the last race of the season because George got food poisoning at the start of the weekend. It was a last-minute option, but Toto decided that since Kimi was going to be in the car next season, he could race anyway. “Consider this practice.”

“I think my three years of experience in photographing you in multiple races and multiple series should be plenty,” You replied as you planted your fee at the start of the track. You pulled your arm back to force Kimi to look at you. “Kimi, this is your time to shine. I do not need pictures of you in the driver’s parade today. Maybe sometime next season, I’ll talk Toto into getting me on somehow, but this is literally your first F1 race. It’s your time to shine.”

“It’s your first F1 race too, and I want you beside me just like every other first race we’ve done,” Kimi explained as he held out a hand to you. “Together?”

“You’re really trying to pull the ‘together’ card on me?” You teased as you crossed your arms, stepping back from him.

“You can never say no to the ‘together’ card,” Kimi stated as he grabbed your wrist again to pull you against him. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and held you tightly against his chest before whispering against your ear, “You can’t say no to me in general.”

“Let me grab my camera,” You melted as your arms dissolved and loosely wrapped around his waist briefly. Then, you gently pushed him back so you could head back to the garage to grab your camera. However, standing behind you with your camera was none other than Toto Wolff. “Hey, Toto. How can I help you?”

“I assumed he convinced you to go on the drive’s parade with him, so I brought your camera over on my way to the pit wall,” He explained as he handed it over to you. You narrowed your eyes on him, confused what he was talking about, so he continued. “I was going to ask you to cover it anyway. Kimi said he was going to get you on the bus, and our normal photographer is busy.”

“You are feeding his addiction, Toto,” You chuckled as you snatched your camera from him. “How else is he going to learn?”

“Not my problem,” Toto laughed with you, “Now, get on the bus.”

You sighed before turning back to Kimi, seeing him standing off to the side. You grabbed his wrist as you put the camera around your neck and dragged him over to the bus. You pushed him ahead of you to get on first, “Go, Kimi.”

“Nice of you to join us, Kimi,” Ollie laughed as he watched you two climb onto the bus. 

“Had to bring your emotional support photographer, I see,” Jack laughed as he nudged Kimi with his shoulder. Kimi just rolled his eyes as he gripped your hand and laughed at them sarcastically.

“You’re just jealous you don’t have one,” Kimi joked as he walked over to lean against the rail. He tried to pull you closer to him, but you placed a hand against his chest. “What now?”

“I have to get pictures of you in your natural habitat. To do that, I need to be over there,” You gestured to the opposite side of the bus. “I’m gonna go. You have fun out there.” You didn’t give him the chance to say anything as you pushed away from him while the bus started moving down the track and media personnel started interviewing different drivers. 

“Can’t even handle a few minutes to yourself, huh?” Jack bumped into Kimi’s side as they both watched you walk to the other side of the bus.

“Shut up,” Kimi muttered, pushing past Jack to stand at the edge of the bus to wave at fans.

“How much convincing did it take to get them on here?” Ollie joked as he leaned against the railing next to Kimi. Immediately, Kimi turned to glare at Ollie, but Ollie just laughed. “You know I’m teasing. Probably took more convincing to get Toto onboard.”

“I’ll have you know Tot was the one that convinced them, not me,” Kimi set the record straight as an interviewer walked up to him.

“You are filling in for George Russell, who had food poisoning earlier this week and has been declared unfit to compete this weekend,” They started off, “Last time you were in George’s car, you crashed it. How does that affect you coming into this week?”

“I can’t focus on that,” Kimi chuckled nervously, “I can say that I am much more confident this time around. I’ve had more running time in the car, I’ve had more races in F2 to find my craft, and I have my family here to support me. I can’t complain.”

“Yeah, we’ve seen your significant other snapping pictures in the background,’ The interviewer laughed and pointed you out. Kimi waved at you as you took pictures of him before he turned back to the interviewer. “Was it your doing to get them here? You have a reputation of being overly attached to them.”

“You can call me clingy. I take pride in it,” Kimi laughed, shyly looking back at you before addressing the interviewer again, “But no, I didn’t pull any strings. I wanted them here, but Toto was the one who actually convinced them to come. You can’t blame me, though. I just like having my favorite photographer around.”

With that, the interviewer took their leave while Kimi waved out to the crowd. He mindlessly waved to the fans as someone else walked up behind him. 

“I’m expecting P8 or higher as thank you,” Toto said before laughing as Kimi jumped, not expecting Toto to be behind him. 

“I’ll give you P5 or higher if you let them come with me on every parade,” Kimi negotiated quickly. Toto thought about it shortly before holding his hand out to make the deal.

~~

Kimi stood next to Toto, overlooking the data just before qualifying when George walked up beside them. George leaned against the table before someone gave up their seat for him since he technically wasn’t supposed to strain himself at the track anyway. He offered some input for Kimi and gave some tips about how to manage the track. The conversation was pretty short as Kimi had to start preparing to qualify. 

“Where’s your personal photographer? I thought you two were like velcro,” George laughed. Kimi just threw a glare at him, causing George to laugh a little too hard before putting his hands up. “I’m just saying I’ve never seen one without the other.”

“Working,” Kimi said simply, but even George could hear the frown in his tone.

“What’s with the sadness? It’s your first F1 race!” George asked, concerned for his incoming teammate. They may not be the closest of friends, but they would be teammates next year. That also wouldn’t stop George from trying to be an older brother to the rookie.

“We have a pre-race ritual, but they’re not here for it,” Kimi pouted. No one would know, however, because he threw his balaclava on before anyone could notice. George could see it in his eyes, though, that this affected him more than he wanted everyone to believe. “We’ve never missed one when they were at the track with me.”

“I bet we could call them over,” George trailed off, looking over at his manager, who was already pulling out her phone and calling you. George walked closer to Kimi and gently took his helmet from his shaking hands. “Kimi, slow down. Breathe. We’re getting them here. Just go into the back for a minute. We’ll send them back when they get here.”

Kimi didn’t need to be told twice as he retreated to his driver’s room and sat with his head in his hands on the couch. You were already on your way back when your phone started blowing up with messages. You didn’t look at them as your hands were full of equipment, and you walked through the back of the Mercedes garage, planning to drop everything off in Kimi’s driver’s room before joining him by the car for the ritual. You used your back to push open the door, and when you turned around, you immediately noticed Kimi on the couch.

“Hey, shouldn’t you be getting ready for quali?” You asked, not noticing anything wrong until you heard him take a deep breath. You set everything down by your bag, looking at him questionably, “What’s happened, Kimi?”

“Am I clingy?” He asked, looking up at you. His face was red with embarrassment, but he needed to know your opinion. 

“Who said you're clingy? Only I’m allowed to call you clingy,” You replied quickly, moving to sit in front of him. “You’re my Clingy Antonelli, and I love you just the way you are.”

“Everyone’s been saying it today,” Kimi muttered, looking away from you. He looked down at his lap and fiddled with his fingers. “The driver’s parage, in the garage, just around the paddock. Everyone says I’m clingy with you, and maybe they’re right.”

“You’re not a bad clingy,” You said immediately, taking his hands in yours. “I’ve learned that you just like me in your space. It’s your love language, in a way, and I’m not going to get mad at that. I love that you’re clingy because, secretly, I like being around you just as much.”

“You do?” Kimi’s head snapped up to meet your eyes. 

“I’ve never had the chance to be clingy because you always make the first move,” You chuckled, “I just bask in the love from you, so no, I wouldn’t change a thing about you because I love you just the way you are. You and all of your clingyness.”

~~~

Series masterlist

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[jo-speaks]

SHARPEST TOOL ft. JACK HUGHES

in which...

Jack Hughes never saw your relationship as anything serious.

WARNINGS: 18+ content below the cut. MDNI. brief smut, yet again, it's like a paragraph or two, angst w/ no happy ending, jack's an asshole, cheating (technically), etc.

track four in the short & sweet series!

note: dedicated to finishing this series over the weekend since i have a few days off work and school! so sorry it's taken so long!

I know you're not

The sharpest tool in the shed

“Jack?” You called out, voice laced with sleep as you heard clattering coming from the right side of the bed. 

Opening your eyes slightly, you could see everything from his hips down, the upper half of his body contorted in an interesting manner.

He grimaced, turning slowly to look at you, “Sorry.”

You sat up, leaning over to turn on the bedside lamp. Catching a glance at the alarm clock, it read 3:29, clearly way too early for either one of you to be awake. 

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“My phone fell under the bed and I thought I could reach it without waking you.” He admitted, his face being noticeably red in the warm light emanating from the lamp. 

You weren’t sure if it was exhaustion or if he genuinely thought he could reach his phone from where he had been laying. Rubbing your eyes, you stood up and got on the ground. Jack looked at you with a quirked eyebrow, as he crawled across the bed to get a good look at you.

Before he got the chance to admire how hot you looked wearing nothing but his hoodie, you perked up, placing the phone on the bed before hopping back up onto it yourself. 

“Thanks, baby.” He said, the name catching both of you off guard.

Jack had been the one to propose the idea of being friends with benefits, not wanting to jump into anything serious at the start of the season. You had agreed reluctantly, deciding that being something with him was better than nothing. 

The relationship had been anything but casual, yet the title stayed the same.

We had sex, I met your best friends

“Jack!” You wailed, digging your nails into his broad shoulders, earring a deep groan from his chest.

He dug his face into the crook of your neck, sucking and kissing on the one spot he knew drove you crazy. “So close, sweet girl. Just one more for me, yeah?” You nodded, words seeming nonexistent in your head. Jack had already dragged an orgasm out of both you and himself, but for some reason, he just couldn’t stop. 

One more deep thrust from him and you were done. You came around his cock, trying to keep your moans muffled by bringing a hand down to your mouth. However, Jack quickly put a stop to this, replacing your hand with a sloppy kiss as you moaned into each other’s mouths as he spilled inside of you.

It took a few minutes of laboured breathing for the two of you to regain any ability to move. But once he gathered enough strength, Jack pulled out of you slowly, a whimper escaping your lips due to the empty feeling. 

Jack glanced over at the clock, eyes widening, “Shit. I have practice.”

You rolled your eyes, letting out an annoyed sigh at his untimeliness. He smirked, placing a quick kiss on your lips, a silent apology for his inability to schedule anything on time. Even a booty call. 

“I’ll make it up to you. Promise.” He said, pulling up his boxers and basketball shorts. “See yourself out?”

You nodded, sitting up and grabbing the shirt he had so conveniently placed at the foot of the bed. He called out a quick goodbye before shutting the door and leaving you alone in his room.

After a few seconds of self-reflection, you slipped the shirt on and stepped into your slippers that you had left in his house a few nights ago. You were feeling thirsty, so you decided to grab your phone and keys and make your way to the kitchen. 

Not expecting anyone to be home, the look on your face when you saw Jack, Luke, and three other people standing in the kitchen. You stood there like a deer in headlights, your face turning warm as they looked you up and down. 

Jack got out of shock first, clearing his throat. “Um. Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N this is Nico, Jesper, and Seamus.”

“Hi.” You greeted, earning one back from each of the men standing in Jack’s kitchen.

“So you’re the famous Y/N,” Nico spoke up, nodding his head towards Jack, “This one doesn’t shut up about you. Surprised it took us so long to meet you.” 

His words made you smile, the idea of Jack talking about you making your heart feel fuzzy and warm. “You should hear the things he says about you.”

Jack flushed, “Okay! We met Y/N, she met you guys, I think it’s time for practice.”

Then a bird flies by and you forget

Jack had taken you out for dinner, a rare occasion as he didn’t want people to mingle in his personal life. The night had been amazing, laughs and giggles coming from the two of you all night.

The night was still young, but the two of you wanted to get home early. Jack would be a fool not to, judging by how good you looked tonight.

“I love that dress on you by the way,” Juck admitted, causing warmth to rise to your cheeks. “You should wear it out more often.”

You laughed, “I think that means you have to take me out more often, no?”

Jack thought for a second, “Oh yeah.”

The waitress had come over, interrupting Jack’s ah-ha moment. You wish you could’ve ignored the way Jack’s eyes instantly became plastered with hers, the two of them maintained eye contact until you thanked her for the check, causing them to snap out of their trance and for her to walk away.

“What was that about?” You asked, handing Jack the bill.

He cleared his throat, pulling out his wallet and setting his card down on the table. “Nothing.”

You weren’t convinced by his shitty excuse, but the night out had been so nice you didn’t want to ruin it over some stupidly prolonged eye contact. But you couldn’t get the scene out of your head. He looked at her like he looked at you, just a little too long. 

“Are you sure? It didn’t look like nothing.” You pressed.

Jack shook his head, “You’re making a big deal out of nothing. She just looked like someone I knew. And if anything, she was looking at me.” You knew he was just spewing lies to get out of a situation he had been caught in. But again, you didn’t want to ruin the night. 

Moments passed without a word being exchanged from either of you, the awkward silence being interrupted by Jack suddenly standing. 

“I'll be right back.” He mumbled, not giving you a chance to respond before leaving you alone at the table.

You sighed, leaning back into the leather booth. And that’s where you stayed, looking like an idiot waiting for a man that didn’t come back.

I don't hear a word

'Til your guilt creeps in

On a Tuesday, send a soft "hey"

As if you really don't recall the time

After Jack’s successful escapade, you decided it was best to live in the present than dwell in the future.

At least that’s what you tried to do. 

In reality, you were lying on your couch, dried-up tears staining your cheeks as you clutched the collar of Jack’s hoodie. He had yet to ask for them back, let alone send you a text since the whole situation, so it was fair play. 

Sitting in your sorrow, you lazily reached your arm out to grab the TV control to throw on something to try and get your mind off the boy. Unfortunately for you, the Devils were playing tonight and the last thing you just so happened to have open on your TV was ESPN, which was playing a preview of the game. 

You groaned, throwing the control before beginning to cry slowly. You could feel the fresh tears fall from your eyes, trying your best to stop them by pinching the bridge of your nose, but nothing halted them. Wet gasps escaped your mouth, your cries turning into gut-wrenching sobs as you sat up, unable to lie down without choking on your spit. 

Your phone buzzed from beside you, the ringtone causing your eyes to widen. Pathetically, you scrambled for your phone, seeing the one name shown on your lock screen that you had been waiting to see for a week.

jack: hey

Seriously? One week of leaving you alone at a restaurant and all he could say was “Hey”? Not that you minded, honestly. You just wanted a text. 

y/n: hi

jack: come over? thought u could help me out before the game tn.

We were goin' right, then you took a left

Left me with a lot of shit to second-guess

Guess I'll waste another year on wonderin' if

If that was casual, then I'm an idiot

I'm lookin' for an answer in-between the lines

Lyin' to yourself if you think we're fine

You're confused and I'm upset, but

We never talk about it x3

All the silence just makes it worse, really

'Cause it leaves you so top-of-mind for me

You did end up going to Jack’s after that text, but not to do what he suggested. 

When he looked through the peephole to see you, he instantly tugged the door open. “Hey! I didn’t think you were actually gonna come.”

“That makes two of us.” You mumbled. “Can I come in?”

He nodded, opening the door and stepping aside so you could cross the threshold. The second you stepped in, he shut the door and wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing your back against his chest. “Luke just left so we can be as loud as we want.” He whispered, pressing soft kisses to your neck. 

As tempting as he was, you pushed yourself off of him. The shocked and confused look on his face was almost comical like he actually believed you came here to get him off.

“I’m not here for that, Jack.” You said.

Jack scoffed, “Okay? So why are you here?”

You knitted your eyebrows together at his words, “To talk about what happened? You left me at the stupid restaurant for some fucking girl!”

“You’re still stuck on that? Y/N, that was forever ago. Grow up.”

His face looked extremely punchable as the words “grow up” came out of his mouth, but thankfully for the both of you, you were better than that. You let out a frustrated breath before continuing. “It was a week ago. And honestly, Jack, how do you expect me to not be hung up on it? It was going so well and you threw it all away on a random Friday night!”

Jack looked irritated, yet there was a glint of guilt in his eyes. “There was nothing going on between us. We both agreed that it was strictly casual, so I don’t know what you’re getting so worked up about.”

“Please. You know damn well there was nothing casual about anything we did.”

He let out a sigh, taking a glance at his phone. “Yeah, whatever. I gotta go. See yourself out, will you?”

You couldn’t even respond to his words, watching with your mouth agape as he walked around you, grabbed his hockey bag, and walked out of his apartment.

You snapped out of your astonishment, glancing around the room before leaving. However, something on his living room shelf caught your eye. Walking over, you realize how many pictures of the two of you were up and framed. Your date to New York, your many dates to your favourite ice cream spot in Hoboken, and countless pictures of you wearing Jack’s jersey. 

It wasn’t some casual fling to him either, but that didn’t stop him from throwing it away like it was nothing.

[caitified]

Can you do a Caitlin fic where reader plays on another team like UConn or another one you like and it’s them dating but they are playing each other then they meet up after the game

jersey

caitlin clark x reader

added my own twist to this, hope that’s okay. warnings:none except for final four trauma for my uconn girls 🥹🫂

it all started back in high school, when you and caitlin met at usa basketball camp for the u17 team. you were teammates for that summer, instantly clicked on and off the court, and since then, it’s been you two—despite the distance, despite the fact that you went to uconn and she went to iowa. it wasn’t easy, but somehow, you made it work. calls after practice, text messages throughout the day, weekend trips whenever you could squeeze them in. it wasn’t ideal, but it was worth it.

then came the final four. the buzz around iowa and uconn facing off was huge, and everyone knew the game would be intense. you tried not to let the pressure get to you, especially knowing caitlin was on the other side of the court. but when it came down to it, iowa won. they deserved it—caitlin had an incredible game, but still, the loss stung deeply.

after the game, you couldn’t bring yourself to text or call her. it wasn’t anger or resentment, just a feeling of emptiness and a need for space. she sent a few messages, checking in, apologizing even though she had no reason to. you read every one but couldn’t find the words to respond. the silence stretched on for days, and you knew she was probably wondering what you were thinking. you felt guilty but couldn’t bring yourself to explain; you needed to process it alone.

as the national championship game between iowa and south carolina approached, something inside you shifted. this wasn’t about rivalry or a game anymore—this was about her. you missed her, missed the ease and comfort you always felt together, and if she was going to play the biggest game of her life, you wanted to be there for her, no matter what had happened in the final four.

the next day, you found yourself sitting with her family, a sea of black and gold around you, and caitlin’s jersey resting over your shoulders. her mom welcomed you warmly, squeezing your hand, and her dad even offered you a bit of comfort in his own quiet way. they knew you were hurting too, but they also saw how much you cared for her.

when the teams ran out onto the court, caitlin’s gaze swept over the stands. it took a second for her to spot you, but when she did, her expression softened, and you could see the relief in her eyes. she smiled, the kind of smile that felt like the sun breaking through the clouds, and you knew she understood what it meant for you to be there.

the game was intense, a back-and-forth battle, and in the final moments, south carolina clinched the win. you watched as caitlin tried to hold it together, accepting hugs from her teammates, but you could see the heartbreak in her eyes. as soon as she was able, she made her way over to the stands. she moved past everyone until she reached you, pulling you down from the bleachers into a tight hug, her shoulders trembling slightly.

“i thought maybe you didn’t want to be here,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“no, i wanted to be right here. i’m always here, cait,” you murmured, holding her close. “i’m so proud of you, no matter what.”

[aropride]

ok story before bed time. everyone gather around

you are me at age 13. you are an 8th grader who just realized he likes girls and recently had a gender crisis in the home depot lighting aisle. it is november of 2016, and trump has run for president for the first time. you are watching the map change over your dad's shoulder. you aren't really sure how it works yet but you are seeing a lot of red on there and you are very frightened. you just found out you have free will, like, last year, and you are only beginning to grasp the gravity of the situation- the situation being the united states of america in general- and it already is looking very bad.

when you wake up in the morning your dad tells you trump has won. he's too happy about it. you're skipping breakfast to make the bus in time. the sun's barely risen, btw, but you are 13 so you have little to no autonomy or rights, so you are in the fluorescent-light torment-nexus they call a "middle school" by 7:45am on the dot.

you see your friend as you're walking to your homeroom. he's a fellow gay emo middle schooler, he sucks, and he really likes to guilt-trip you into skipping class to hang out with him by telling you he's going to kill himself if you don't. you have other qualms with him, but this illustrates enough. he says hi, you say hi, there is a sort of thick dread in the air despite barely anyone in the building being old enough to vote and most everyone completely baffled by the concept of the "electoral college."

he asks how you're feeling. you say bad, and he agrees.

he looks you in the eyes and puts both his hands on your shoulders. he says, "don't worry about gay marriage. they can't get rid of it."

you don't say anything; he doesn't give you a chance to.

"i ran into the senate at subway yesterday and i asked them. and they said trump can't repeal gay marriage."

you do not know much about the government. you are not quite sure what a senator is. however, you know there are one hundred of them. you also know that the only subway in your little corner of maine is very small- there's, like, three booths to sit in. only a few people can even get in line to order at a time. you were born recently but you are able to draw some conclusions here:

1) there is absolutely no way that subway could fit 100 people inside of it at all,

2) there is no reason that the entire senate would be in a little town in maine the night after the election,

and 3) this guy is making shit up again, more than anyone's ever made shit up in their life.

you say, "okay. that's good." you are aware that gay marriage is not the only thing to be worried about, here. you are aware that this guy lies recreationally and it is not worth arguing the matter.

"isn't that great?" he asks. it is not great.

you go to homeroom and you do not stand for the pledge of allegiance (you never stand for it again). you go to pre-algebra. you listen to my chemical romance instead of paying attention. you go to english class, you go to study hall, you go to lunch. you go to social studies and your teacher lets you and your other gay friend (who doesn't suck and in fact you have crush-adjacent feelings for them) sit out in the hall to talk about the election, because you asked nicely. they do not try to tell you that they ran into the entire senate at subway.

you think about this interaction several times a month through the next two election seasons. you are a 21 year old man and you are still thinking about this. you are still imagining ways the entire senate could cram themselves into this tiny subway. you regularly share this story with new friends because you just cannot stop fucking thinking about it. he ran into the entire senate at a tiny little subway in maine at 7 in the morning. and they said gay rights were safe forever.

[hihomeghere]

Right Person, Wrong Time / John Marston x reader

Summary : You and John have constantly been at each other's throats until you left the gang after he chose Abigail over you. When you return you find him gone, leaving Abigail and Jack. You create a relationship with Abigail and Jack, but what will happen when John returns? Warnings/tags : Hate fucking, unprotected piv (wrap it before you tap it), swearing, slapping, choking, hair pulling, biting breasts, unrequited loveish, John being an awful parent, slight Abigail x John, reader x John, reader becomes a parent figure it Jack, angst, no happy ending Word count : 2.5k

You supposed fate had it out for you. To dangle John in front of you like it did. Two scrappy street kids raised alongside each other. Like two starving dogs fighting for scraps, you were always at each other's throats. Arthur could hardly stand one of you at a time, but the two of you together had him damn near tearing his hair out. 

The old guard had hoped that once the two of you got older, things wouldn’t be so volatile around camp. But the churning hormones inside the two of you only poured gasoline on the fire that was you and John. 

Dutch and Hosea quickly learned that the two of you couldn’t be trusted to work a job together. That job ended in your first wanted poster going up in Armadillo. John tore one down and kept putting it up around camp, much to everyone’s disapproval. 

Hosea said it was because the two of you were too alike. Forced out on your own, fighting to survive in a dog eat dog world. Stuck in this rivalry that you had created. Dutch had seen it before anyone else had, the smoldering fire inside you that yearned for John’s spark. 

But then Abigail came along. You hated her. Hated her pretty eyes, soft lips, more than anything you hated how John couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. She was just a working girl, you had seen hundreds of working girls come and go but she… she stayed. She stayed and for some reason John couldn’t stay away from her. 

Always sitting next to her around the campfire, looking at her with that stupid lovesick look. It made you sick. So instead of facing the fact that stupid John Marston was in love with someone who wasn’t you, you ran. 

You packed in the dead of night, like a coward, and ran off. It was harder on your own and as much as you hated to admit it, you missed the gang. More than anything you missed John. But you were stubborn, you wanted to prove to yourself that you didn’t need them, didn’t need him. 

It was fate when Arthur found you running a con on some rich folk. Asked you to come back, just for ‘one night’. You went back with him, knowing that this ‘one night’ would turn into many nights. Dutch and Hosea welcomed you back with open arms, something you hadn’t been expecting after being gone so long. Although your loyalty had never been with the gang, it was always with John. 

Although John was gone, like two ships passing in the night. Had run off about a week earlier from what Arthur had said. Leaving Abigail and his son. His son. 

A tiny boy with brown hair and eyes, barely a year old. Poor Abigail, the girl was a wreck. Dealing with her son and his piece of shit father. 

You don’t know why you attached yourself to them, stepping in and acting as a second parent to Jack. Perhaps you felt like you owed it to them, that you had harbored so much hate in you over a foolish man. A foolish man that had everything he could want and threw it away. Deep down you knew that it was for a more selfish reason. You felt close to John in some awful way when you were around Abigail and Jack. You saw so much of John in him, in his gummy smile. When he would laugh, deep in his belly. 

The little boy had captured your heart, just like his father. 

You knew that Abigail knew, knew the feelings you harbored for the father of her son. You supposed that everyone knew why you ran off. Ironic that you returned when the prodigal son had left. 

“I don’t hold it against you.” She said one day, breaking the silence between the two of you as you did your chores.

“Pardon?” You asked, looking up at her.

“John.” She said simply, her blunt words made your mouth run dry. “I don’t hold it against you. If that’s why you’re- you’re bein’ so kind. I don’t need charity.” She pursed her lips, hanging up a shirt on the line. 

“It ain’t charity I-“ You worked your jaw as you looked down, “I care for your son. I care for Jack. Hell I- I consider you a friend. Unless I’m oversteppin’?” You raised your eyes to meet her icy gaze.

“I’d like to be your friend.” She said, although her gaze didn’t soften.

And then one day the bastard returned. You didn’t know who was more mad, you or Arthur. He reached him before you did, slamming him up against a nearby tree. 

“You yellow bellied-“

“The hell you doin’!”

“Boys!” Dutch’s voice cut through their growls, striding over to all three of you. Your jaw was clenched so hard your teeth ached as you stared John down. As much as you hated to admit it, part of you was glad to see him. His hair was longer than the last time you had seen him. His dark raven locks down to his shoulders. Your stomach twisted as his eyes landed on you. You turned, stalking away from the men as Dutch began a speech to ‘calm’ the men down. 

Abigail was seething, bouncing Jack in her arms as she paced. 

“Want me to take him so you can kick his ass?” You asked, glaring at him over your shoulder. 

“Please.” She huffed, handing him off as she stormed over to him. A small bit of satisfaction filling you as her open palm connected to his cheek. You turned your gaze back to Jack, reminding your traitorous heart what really mattered. 

You knew it was only a matter of time before John cornered you. The sun had set and you were getting ready for bed when he stopped by your tent.

“You’re back.” His gravely voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“So are you.” You huffed, keeping your back to him as you set your guns down.

“Why’d you come back?” His words sent liquid fire through your veins.

“Why’d you leave?” You hissed, spinning around to face him. He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “How could you?”

“Don’t give me that.” He scoffed, looking away from him.

“Excuse me? You have a family John.”

“And you didn’t?” He growled, his teeth bared like a wild dog. “You just packed up your shit and walked out on us, on all of us.”

“You don’t get to be mad over this.” You seethed, pointing your finger in his face. “We are not the same.”

“Oh sweetheart we’re the same kind of screwed up.” He sneered, holding his arms out. 

“No we ain’t.” You shoved him backwards, “I was here when it mattered. When your son said his first word, when he walked for the first time. I was there.”

“Oh congratulations, parent of the damn year.” 

“You ran cause you got scared, you damn coward.” You hissed, your emotions bubbling to the surface.

“And what’s your excuse hm? We all know why you ran.” His words made your blood run cold.

“You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“I know everything about you.” He said closing the distance between the two of you. “I know you ran cause you couldn’t stand not havin’ me.” You clenched your jaw, swallowing past the lump in your throat.

“You’re a real fucking piece of work John.” He caught your wrist as you turned. 

“Tell me I’m wrong.” He pulled you closer, an iron grip of your wrist. His dark eyes boring into yours. 

“You’re wrong.” You hissed, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Really?” He asked, his voice raising in volume. He surged forward, crashing his lips against yours. It took you a minute to respond, your heart and head at war. Your palms pushed against his chest as he stumbled backwards. His lips parted as he stared down at you. You surged forward, pulling him towards you by his collar. It was a clash of teeth and tongue, a fight for dominance. 

You parted, your lips swollen as you tore at his clothes. He got the memo quickly, undoing his gun belt, letting it fall to the floor with a clang. Halfway undressed he pounced on you like a man possessed. His hands were everywhere and yet your body craved more, more, more. 

Your hands threaded through his hair. Grabbing a chunk near the nape of his neck as you pulled his head back. His eyes caught yours in the low light of the lantern, his teeth glinting as his lips pulled back in a wolfish grin. 

“Your bark is a helluva lot worse than your bite.” He huffed, holding your hips in a near bruising grip. You clenched your jaw, liquid fire rushing through your veins. “Tell me you don’t want this, don’t want me.” He taunted, panting as you tighten your grip on his hair. 

“You’re a piece of shit.” You spat.

“And what does that make you, sweetheart?” He asked, narrowing his eyes. You tugged at the base of his skull, a low groan leaving his lips as he laughed. He walked you backwards, your calves hitting your cot. 

“Fuck you.” You hissed, feeling his hot breath waft across your face.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” His mouth was back on yours, his fingers moved with precision as he unbuttoned your shirt. He roughly grabbed your breast, swallowing the low whine he pulled from you. He pushed you down onto your cot, slotting himself between your legs. He made quick work of undressing you, muttering to himself. “All hot and bothered- you think you’re so damn special don’t you?” He hissed through gritted teeth.

“Like you ain’t much better golden boy.” You growled, tugging at his union suit, hoping he’d get the message. He did, pulling his arms out and kicking the fabric off as you finished undressing. 

You had pictured this exchange happening differently in your head more times than you wanted to admit. In your mind, your first time with John was slow. Each of you would take time to worship each other's bodies. Mapping out each scar and blemish, committing them to memory. Soft kisses trailed along your skin, words of affection passing between your lips. 

As he kicked off his union suit, his cock sprang up against his stomach. The tip red and weeping between his legs. His hand closed around your ankle, yanking you down the cot, closer to him. His hand cupped your mound, his finger trailing down your slit. You hated to give him the satisfaction as he found you slick with desire. He ducked his head, biting at your breast. You gasped as he ran his tongue over the teeth marks before wrapping his lips around your nipple.

“Act like such a damn brat,” He said, pulling off with a loud pop, “Now look at ya, just drippin for me.” Your face burned as he ran his finger through your folds. Your open palm connected with his cheek. His head snapping away from you, your own hand stinging as you pulled back. He let out a low chuckle, hanging his head. His hands wrapped around your thighs, pushing them up against your chest. Folding you in half as he lined himself up with your entrance. He drove into you, knocking the air out of your lungs with a squeak.

“Goddamn you’re tight.” He hissed in pain and pleasure as you raked your nails down his back. He ruts into you like some animal, his lips parted and swollen as he huffed. You bite down on your lip, trying to stifle any traitorous moans. The dark patch of hair at the base of his cock rubbed against your clit. Your whole body felt ablaze as he pounded relentlessly into you. The sound of skin on skin echoing through the small tent. His heavy balls hitting your ass with each thrust. Your cunt ached as he carved out a space for himself inside you, reaching places you didn’t think possible. 

Blood roared in your ears as you’re dragged closer and closer to the edge of pleasure. Your eyes rolling back into your head as your body is propelled up the cot with each thrust. His hand closed around your throat, squeezing slightly and you’re gone.

Wave after wave wash over you as you writhe under him. Mewling as your legs shook on either side of his shoulders, your head felt fuzzy as his hips stuttered. 

“Shit don’t-“ He bit his lip, “I can’t-“ He pulled out of you, flipping you over onto your hands and knees. He slammed back into you, his chest sticking to your back with sweat as he laid over you. His arms on either side of your head as he held himself up. 

“Fuck John!” You cried out, biting down on your lip. Your body was ablaze as his hand pressed your face into the cot. 

“God damn-“ He groaned through gritted teeth, his eyes squeezing shut as his hips stuttered. Pouring himself into you as he collapsed on top of you. 

Both of your breaths filled the air, your chest heaving as he rolled off of you. He left you empty and leaking onto your cot, although that was the least of your worries.

You just fucked John, well technically he fucked you. But Abigail… Abigail and Jack. God if she found out you’d never be able to earn her trust back. John let out a long sigh, running his hand over his face. A smirk tugging on his lips as he looked over at you. 

You felt sick to your stomach as you felt his cum drip out of you. You got up, grabbing his clothes and throwing them at him. He caught them and held them against his chest, his brows furrowing as he looked up at you. 

“The hell are you doing darlin’?” He asked.

“Don’t call me that.” You huffed, stepping into your bloomers. “This- this was a mistake. You know it, I know it, shit you have a family, John. Abigail, Jack-“

“Is that what this is about?” He scoffed, narrowing his eyes as he sat on the edge of the cot. “They’re in the past.”

“No!” You snapped, “They’re right here in this fucking camp! Waiting for you.”

“Who knows if the boy is even mine-“ He started, throwing up his hand.

“Oh don’t pull that horseshit, we all know he’s your son.” You scoffed, buttoning up your shirt. “God I’m a fool.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. Guilt settling over you like a blanket. “Get out.”

“What?” He asked, his eyes finding yours.

“This was a mistake.” You said shaking your head, “You may not have any loyalty but I do. I- This never happened.” His jaw clenched, anger burning in his eyes as he roughly dressed himself. He stopped next to you, staring you down.

“So this is it?” He scoffed, shaking his head as you didn’t respond. Your arms crossed as you hung your head in shame. “Unbelievable.” He muttered as he stormed past you, knocking his shoulder against yours as he left your tent.

You sat down on the edge of your cot, putting your head in your hands. Hating yourself for being so damn weak, hating yourself for enjoying it, hating yourself for your undeniable feelings for him.

What had you done?

[ranticore]

tiny bit of prose from 2023 from when i was working out the whole social situation of fighting and so on etc

-

The outsize showers were slow and too cold, the water gurgling out from ancient pipes in a pathetic trickle over Pascal’s back. He ducked under the flow to wet his hair, hoping to scrape some soap through the long brown curls, but the harsh clacks of heavy hoof-falls came a second before an arm intruded across his field of view and snatched the soap out of his reach.

Fabian laughed. “Oh, jeez, you weren’t using that, were you?” He was very close, sodden hair rubbing up against Pascal’s side and hindquarters briefly before the rest of Fabian’s body cut past Pascal on his way to the row of showerheads, just close enough that it would have forced Pascal to step back to let him, if Pascal had been a reasonable sort of person.

“Feel free,” Pascal said in painstakingly cool tones. Fabian smiled innocently in response, likely confident that he had gotten his way, until Pascal swung his own body around to fully block his path, shedding suds and water onto Fabian in a messy spray, and stood there squeezing the moisture from his hair. Fabian would have to move past some other way, because he was not, under any circumstances, going to get Pascal to give up an inch of space.

Billows of steam swirled around them, spilling out past the corrugated metal wall that was their only modesty shield from the training going on in the arena outside. The other centaurs in the shower block were unobtrusively going about their cleaning routine, while every few seconds sneaking peeks across at the stallion pair, following their movements.

“Oh, wow, this is so awkward,” Fabian said, again in that perfectly pleasant voice, “you’re standing in my way.”

He spoke as if it were not obvious fact, as if it were completely unthinkable for anyone to even attempt to stand in his way and block his movements. As if it had been a mistake on Pascal’s part.

“Yeah, babe, so go around,” Pascal said, nudging himself just an inch closer, so that Fabian’s front was flush with the curve of Pascal’s flank. Fabian’s body was warm and firm, his wet fur sliding like the bristles of a very fine brush over Pascal’s side as he pushed, just a little, his veil of politeness starting to shift in favour of that sharp-eyed look of appraisal and evaluation.

Abruptly, Fabian reared. Pascal was forced to shift, ever so slightly, just to avoid a strike from those delicate front hooves. But Fabian was not kicking out, only ramping up, as if he intended to cover Pascal, or barge him out of the way. Pascal retaliated by mirroring him, rising onto his hind hooves briefly to force Fabian back before coming down heavily right where he had been before. No strikes yet, but as a familiar, tense excitement gripped Pascal, he was seized by the urge to hit out.

Pascal drew up closer, until they were side by side, glued together, the increasingly quick rise and fall of their sides bumping closer, and threw an arm around Fabian’s shoulders.

“Somebody stop them,” a voice said from the other end of the shower block. Pascal wanted nothing less than to stop, not when faced by a challenger who needed to be put in his place.

Fabian’s smile was not faltering, but it had taken on a vivid and excitable air, like the beginnings of a vicious leer or a threatened bite. He drew himself alongside Pascal again and stamped a front hoof, setting off a deep reverberation through the speckled tiles. Yeah, so what, he was big and strong. It wasn’t news and it still wasn’t enough to intimidate Pascal. But the scraping thud of a hoof on the floor was enough for their onlookers to drop the pretence of ignoring them. Showers cut off without anyone bothering to push for more water.

Another rear to escape this, and Fabian knocked against him, this time one foreleg up and folded against the slope of Pascal’s withers, and with another few hands of height Fabian could get his leg across Pascal’s back and force him down.

Pascal caught the briefest glimmer of domineering brown eyes and arched brows, and someone else called for them to stop, but it was far easier to obey the pounding of his adrenaline flash and charge against Fabian.

There was a harder collision than before, one of Pascal’s knees against Fabian’s front digging a track through the suds still on his body. To avoid injury they both had to disengage then, fall back to regroup and it would have been an excellent opportunity to surrender, if one of them had been of any mind to.

[phyx-m]

Beneath The Silk | True form Sukuna x Reader

🔗 Masterlist

Chapter 4: The Belly Of The Beast

Content warning: unintentional voyeurism, slightly suggestive

🔗 Songs for this chapter:

The Culling - Chelsea Wolfe Men Like Gods - Gazelle Twin

* * * * *

Chapter 3 | Chapter 5

* * * * *

“Don’t leave me here!” 

Voice cracking, you clutch your father's garment with your gloved hands, hopelessness seeping into the grip. He ignores your plea, striding toward his mount in a silent, unblinking fury.

Pride is a dangerous thing. And your father’s has just been ripped wide open.

Sukuna's little spectacle in the central hall—killing one of your father’s men because of you, and doing so in front of his entire clan—has him absolutely fucking fuming. 

Fingertips digging into the fabric for more purchase, you are practically clinging to him like a child. Touching your father repulses you, as does every aspect of him. But after what transpired, your desperation is rearing its ugly head.

Witnessing Sukuna dismember a dead body was one thing, but seeing a living, breathing person reduced to a wailing, cauterized mess before being decapitated was something else entirely. The cries of agony, the amount of blood, the limbs on the floor. Now carved into your mind.

“Father, please,” you plead, struggling to keep up with his strides. The grounds of the shrine are rain-slicked from the earlier downpour, making it difficult for you to stay upright. “I can’t do this.”

You must stay. You have to do this.

“Please!” you continue, voice rising, fingers knotting.

He stops and whirls around, getting right in your face.

Large, dark, angry eyes bore into yours. The sharp angles of his face appear more severe and brutal. The darkness of the evening only accentuates the creases of his face, turning it into an ugly mask.

“You will do as I say, you ungrateful little bitch,” he snarls, shoving you away with both hands. You stumble backward, your legs splaying wide to keep your balance as mud sucks at your feet. “You will remain here.”

He gives you a look that dares you to defy him, fully aware that you won't. He understands that you grasp the consequences and recognizes that he holds you completely under his control, ready to crush you at a moment's notice. And you know he longs to strike you across the face, but damaging Sukuna’s property is no longer in his best interest. Instead, he will leave scars on you that aren't visible to the eye.

To your right, Onishi leads your sister toward a mount. He lifts her up and climbs behind her, snaking an arm around her delicate frame. Seeing that vile man so close to her, knowing how his mind works, makes your nostrils flare.

Instinctively, you step toward them.

"No," your father commands, grabbing your shoulder to stop you. You jerk away and try to push past him, but he seizes the other one tightly and drags you closer. "Get back inside," he hisses through gritted teeth. You blanch as his dank breath washes over your face.

Tentatively, you glance over your shoulder at the shrine’s entrance. Only Uraume stands there, waiting for you. In the darkness, their all-white kimono and hair stand out like a beacon, as if beckoning you, trying to pull you back into that hellhole.

You turn back to your father.

“Please,” you say quietly, resuming your appeals, “There has to be another way.”

Your repeated words make his left eye twitch. The sagging skin at his neck wobbles with each angry inhale. 

“You have two months.” His words are spoken low, and their weight threatens to pull you down.

“Two months,” you repeat, the enormity of the deadline sinking in.

This is the time he has allotted for you to take down the creature or risk losing your sister.

Two months might seem reasonable, but everything you've observed about Sukuna leaves you troubled. He’s like a cat—an inhuman, agile cat—slipping out of reach whenever you attempt to catch him. Having witnessed his abilities, you understand that he can kill in seconds, while it takes you considerably longer to harness your gift.

How the hell is this going to work?

Without saying another word, your father releases you, turns and mounts his horse.

Perched atop his mount, he looks down at you one last time. A single glance at his eyes tells you everything you need to know. They are detached, empty. In his mind, you are unworthy—nothing to him.

With a sharp crack of the reins, he spurs the horse forward, guiding it down the dirt-packed road into the night.

Onishi’s horse quickly follows behind, passing you, your sister nestled tightly against his chest.

Heart dropping to your stomach, you realize you haven’t had a chance to say goodbye to her.

“Wait,” you call out. You step forward into a few purposeful steps before breaking into a run.

“Wait. Yuna!” you shriek, extending your hand towards her in a panic. She turns, arm reaching out to you, but she is pulled away. 

“Yuna!”

You desperately try to catch up, but your kimono drags you back, its folds catching with every movement. The silt underfoot is treacherous and forces you into a crawl.

With every breath, your chest heaves as you struggle to keep pace.

You are exhausted. Completely drained. This day. This horrible, life-altering day weighs you down.

All you can do is watch as your entire clan slowly fades into tiny specks, swallowed by the forest on either side.

Eventually, you slow. Knees knocking together, you tremble, your entire body on the verge of collapsing.

“No,” you breathe, taking one last hesitant step.

You should have been prepared for this moment, but now that it’s here…

“My Lady,” Uraume’s calm voice trickles from behind as they draw near.

You don’t react. Instead, you keep your gaze ahead as if willing yourself to wake from this nightmare. Tears burn as they form at the corners of your eyes, but you don’t allow them to fall.

An uneasy quiet settles as the thundering of hooves finally dissipates, broken only by the gentle chirping of crickets in the receding forest and the steady summer breeze teasing the trees.

“It’s time to come inside,” Uraume presses.

Come inside.

It’s such a simple request. And yet, you don’t want to oblige. The shrine is too dark, too heinous. Filled with things you aren’t ready to experience. Filled with a thing you aren’t ready to experience.

You must stay. You have to do this.

After a moment, you force down the tightness in your throat and wipe your face with the sleeve of your kimono, fingers grazing your bruise.

You pull a deep breath of fresh air into your lungs, knowing you won’t taste it where you are going.

You turn to Uraume.

“Okay.”

They nod, leading you back through the massive doors, swallowing you whole.

* * * * *

At this late hour, the shrine appears different. It’s so still—not a soul in sight. No attendants are hurrying along, no heavy footsteps. Nothing.

It’s deathly still.

As you pass the central hall, you glance through the cavernous doors, which stand slightly ajar. The low wooden tables that had been present earlier have now been removed, leaving only a vast, untouched expanse. Only the King of Curses’ throne sits inside.

Your eyes cut back to Uraume, watching the delicate white strands of their hair that barely seem to move as they walk.

A knot of anxiety tightens in your chest as you wring your hands, and slick sweat forms between your palms. You can't shake the uneasy feeling of not knowing where they’re leading you.

They take you through the labyrinthine corridors, their white kimono guiding you in the darkness as the lanterns have all been doused, leaving you in twilight.

You find yourself wondering where the monster might be at this hour. Is he asleep? Does he even sleep? If so, where?

Finally, Uraume leads you down a familiar corridor, approaching your chambers.

When they open the door to your room, it lets out a mournful squeak as it moves along the track, causing you to wince and grit your teeth against the sound.

As you step into the room, Uraume follows inside and closes the door behind you with a soft click. They move to the room's far corner and carefully light a small lantern. The gentle, flickering light of the flame chases away the shadows, casting a warm glow over the space.

With the room illuminated, you notice a small plate of food sitting on the low table. You eye it suspiciously.

Uraume continues to prepare the space. Moving to the futon, they methodically spread the layers of soft silk and cotton, fluffing the pillows with careful precision.

You can’t help but wonder if all this hospitality is some sort of trick or a cruel joke. The question lingers on the tip of your tongue. You want to ask, but you push it aside for now.

“Is the room to your liking, my Lady?” Uraume inquires, not looking up from their task.

You watch their pale hands move in the dim light, almost ghostly in their delicate motions.

“Oh… uh, yes, thank you,” you reply, shuffling your feet awkwardly.

Once they appear satisfied with their work, though their face remains emotionless, they move towards you. Their critical eye falls on your dirt-covered kimono, and their lips thin. They move to help you out of the garment, and you take a step back.

“I can do it myself, thank you,” you insist quietly.

Although you allowed attendants to bathe you today, you intend for that to be a one-time exception. You generally prefer not to be touched, especially by Sukuna’s head subordinate, even though Uraume doesn’t seem overtly hostile.

They nod and move towards the door, hands sliding neatly inside their kimono sleeves.

“I will leave you for the evening,” they say, glancing at the plate of food on the table. “Please make sure you eat something. It appears you did not have dinner.”

Uraume was correct, which made them perceptive. Troublesome.

“Yes, thank you,” you mumble, as they turn to leave. “Before you go, could you please tell me what will be expected of me in my new role here as—” you swallow, “Lord Sukuna’s wife?”

You want to blend in here as much as possible. Remain inconspicuous, stay out of trouble, and go unnoticed until it’s time to make a move.

“You will be expected to follow the master’s orders, whatever he deems appropriate,” Uraume says. How vague. “And tomorrow, you will be assigned your own attendants.”

You give a subtle nod, before they start to move away again.

“Oh, one last thing—where are his chambers?”

Uraume pauses to scrutinize you for a moment, and you make every effort to appear as docile as possible, offering a smile that conveys: You are not here to assassinate him.

“To the right. The door at the end of this corridor,” they instruct, with a tone of almost detached certainty, as though Sukuna’s hubris might somehow protect him from being murdered in his sleep.

The same corridor as yours. How convenient.

You nod with a small ‘thank you,’ intending to dismiss them.

With their hands still tucked inside their sleeves, Uraume suddenly withdraws one and reveals a small piece of cloth. They turn it in their hand once before passing it to you.

Confused, you accept it and notice a fresh clump of ice nestled inside.

Raising your gaze to Uraume, you find them regarding your bruise with a pointed look.

“Goodnight, my Lady.”

Turning, they silently slip from your room and shut the door behind them.

* * * * *

The events of the day chew at you, making sleep impossible. Tossing and turning on the futon in your new chamber, you've been staring at the same spot on the ceiling for hours.

What time is it? One? Two? Three in the morning?

The clump of ice that Uraume gave you for your contusion has long since melted, leaving only a damp cloth behind. You want to feel gratitude for their gesture, but you remind yourself that everyone here sees you as both property and prisoner of their master.

Sighing, you turn onto your side and glance at the ceramic plate. You have mostly eaten the food, except for the meat, which you've pushed to one side.

You lie there restlessly, straining to hear any sound, but the silence is nearly maddening. Were it still raining, the steady rhythm might provide some relief from the oppressive stillness, perhaps even lulling you to sleep.

Yet, silence could also be a good sign.

You roll to your back.

Considering the possibility that the quiet means no one is around, maybe you can slip unnoticed to his chambers and finish this.

Two months.

You sit up and place your feet on the cold wooden floor. Your silk gloves lie on the table, but you won't need them for this.

Rising, you approach the door, taking care to apply minimal pressure to avoid making noise. It takes you at least a minute to open it as quietly as possible.

Standing in the doorway, you peer into the velvet darkness of the corridor.

You glance left, then right. Silence. It's so quiet, so dark.

Stepping out cautiously, you move to your right and begin walking. Your steps are faint and slightly unsteady.

The corridor’s width and depth are deep, like descending through a vast, elongated throat, with Sukuna’s chambers at the end serving as the stomach. Given what you have observed in the shrine’s layout, his room appears to be at the heart of the structure.

You shiver as you continue, flexing your hands at your sides.

As you approach the door, you notice a faint, diffused light filtering beneath it.

He’s awake.

A ringing sound begins to flood your ears, drowning out all other sensations. Almost as if you are in a trance, you lose all awareness of your feet beneath you.

At last, you reach the massive door.

Standing before them, you extend your arm. The sound in your ears is so loud you don’t register the sound of your knocking once, twice, a third time.

When the buzzing finally stops, sounds pierce through your settling haze—lewd sounds.

A deep grunt. A whine. No, two whines. Two women? Followed by some other indiscernible sounds that make your skin flush from head to toe.

"The fuck is it, Uraume?" Sukuna's irate, out-of-breath voice barks from the other side.

Shit.

It’s too late now.

You clear your throat and draw your shoulders back.

"It's not Uraume, it's me, my Lord.” Your voice seems to echo down the corridor as you call out. 

There’s no response from within.

Your yukata suddenly feels too tight, as if it wants to strangle you to death. You stare at the dark wooden door impatiently, considering turning back.

Then, there is the sound of skin on skin, a small keening noise that makes you wince, followed by the shuffling of fabric.

Silence.

Heavy footsteps.

Bang!

The left side of the sliding door rips open, making you jump.

You come face to face with one very sweaty, very bare-chested Ryomen Sukuna—eye level with his sternum, a prominent pectoral muscle glares you in the face. His slate grey hakama rests precariously low on his hips, as though thrown on hastily. Although you've seen him like this once before, this encounter feels entirely different—more intimate and unsettling.

He’s been fucking. 

Your body tenses as you realize this is the closest you've ever been to experiencing the act, just by proximity.

The heat radiating from his skin catches in your throat, stifling the air around you. You swear you can feel the strands of hair around your face beginning to curl from the warmth and a bead of sweat forming on your upper lip.

Unintentionally, your eyes drift to his right, peeking into the room beyond. For a fleeting moment, you glimpse the two attendants from earlier, their naked flesh illuminated by the soft lantern light within. In an instant, Sukuna’s two right arms shoot up, gripping the doorframe with startling speed, making a dull thud as they strike the wood. The two women vanish from sight, concealed by his muscled arms, leaving only his imposing figure before you.

Collecting yourself, you tip your chin up to meet his gaze.

The lantern’s glow from his chambers casts a dull light, silhouetting him. His red orbs peer into you, their intensity practically blazing against the darkness of the corridor.

“It’s quite late, wife. Yet here you are at my door. Why?” His voice is stern, and he leans in slightly, closing the distance between you. His immense frame eats everything in your vision.

Under normal circumstances, this question might be amusing. What wife wouldn’t seek out her husband on their wedding night?

"I wanted to say goodnight," you reply. A weak excuse, but you manage to keep your voice calm, measured, and sweet, although fake.

You force your eyes to widen and attempt to make them flash with a hint of playfulness, trying to project a confidence that you know isn’t there.

“Hmh,” Sukuna exhales dismissively. “Wanted to say goodnight,” he repeats with an annoyed grumble that causes your facade to waver.

His fingers begin to drum along the doorframe, thick veins pulsing beneath the skin of his hands with each movement. The pads of his fingers tap out a rhythm—short, sharp, and deliberate, as though taunting you.

He keeps drumming and drumming and drumming, the relentless beat almost in sync with your pounding heart.

You struggle to keep your composure, the walls you've erected for this encounter crumbling. Your fingers betray you as you dig your index fingernail into the cuticle of your thumb, the sharp pain biting into your flesh.

Suddenly, the drumming of his fingers stops.

Sukuna’s upper eyes fixate on your face, while the lower ones briefly observe your fidgeting hand. The corners of his mouth twitch, as if caught between suppressing a smirk and maintaining a contemplative frown. A heartbeat later, the right side of his mouth gradually tips upward, and his eyelids lower slightly, growing heavy as he directs his full attention toward you. 

An expression of heated intrigue washes over him.

There it is. That’s what you've been waiting for.

You hold his gaze, and he holds yours.

His eyes search you, as if attempting to unravel every hidden thought you hold. But you would never allow that to happen. Revealing even a sliver of yourself to the King of Curses would only lead to misery, and he would take perverse delight in your ruin.

His four eyes darken, pupils dilating, swallowing red.

Got you now, you bastard.

“Master.” A whiny voice from one of the women breaks the tension between you two.

“Shut up,” he snaps, not looking away, but his expression shifts. His fingers dig into the doorframe, and the tendons in his arms strain as if agitated.

Determined to regain the upper hand, you try one of your sister’s tactics. You push a charming smile onto your face, hoping to pull him back into you. But the effect is immediate, and it’s not what you wanted. His mouth twitches, expression faltering.

“Please, Master Sukuna. We need you,” she begs again.

He casts you one last look before a crease forms above his nose and turns his head. His four eyes disappear as he looks over his right shoulder, bringing his left shoulders closer to you.

He’s distracted.

Your gaze is drawn to the large black circular ink on his lower left shoulder. It seems to call out to you, like it’s screaming.

You feel Sukuna’s deep voice rumbling through your body as he speaks to the women, but the words are shapeless syllables.

He’s distracted.

You must stay.

Sifting inside yourself, you concentrate on activating your gift. Once you feel it tingling against your skin, you extend your arm, palm flat and fingertips poised, and reach for him.

You have to do this—

Bang!

The sliding door crashes back into place, extinguishing the light and leaving you alone in the darkness.

You hear Sukuna’s heavy footsteps pad across the wooden floor within the room. There’s a slap of skin, followed by a high-pitched squeal.

You bunch your hand into a fist and resist throwing it straight through the door.

The noises get more deranged, so you retreat hastily, wanting to avoid hearing him in his throes of passion or, more so, depravity.

When you return to your chamber, you slide the door shut and crawl onto your futon.

Staring at the ceiling once more, you reflect on what just happened.

Although you failed in your second attempt to kill him, you may have uncovered something revealing.

Despite the presence of two warm bodies, he still chose to open the door to you.

That expression on his face.

In light of all the bravado and arrogance he has thrown at you, it seems the King of Curses was lying when he claimed he didn’t want you.

* * * * *

🔗 Chapter 5

[traegorn]

hey! i'm looking for some advice on a complicated issue - sorry if it's weird for a stranger to ask this from you but i couldn't think of anyone in my community, and you're a leftist creator i follow lol.

basically i'm a teen who lives in a very red area; i'm by far more left than anyone i've ever met, and i'm still figuring out my stances and trying to do research. i've gotten involved in community and politics, and i've done volunteering- through that volunteering i managed to land an internship with a local politician. a lot of people wanted it and i felt really fortunate and excited to learn more about how things are run on the inside.

i'll be honest....i really disagree with this politician on everything. they are very conservative. it was my number one reason for considering just not taking the internship, but my family convinced me that because i'm not in a campaigning office, and my work would just be taking calls, helping direct people to the right organizations/people that can help them with issues, etc., it would be alright.

and sometimes it does feel alright! i get to help people who are really scared/confused, politics aside. i don't do canvassing or anything, i'm not getting paid, so i started off thinking that i could use this experience to get more insight and then go from there.

but more and more i'm getting calls from people who disagree vehemently with the politician in question - people that i agree with personally. and everyday it's me going "i'm sorry, i'm just an intern, i can't speak on that" and hearing them ask me how i can stand by and support this person, that i'm just as complicit and bad as them...it's really got me thinking about quitting.

i wanted to get involved in politics and i thought this was the only way in a red area, but i feel really guilty. i was wondering if you have any thoughts on this?

Okay, so, you're in a tough spot. I don't know that I would have taken that job myself, but I think it's perfectly reasonable that you did. Like you said, you're not campaigning for them, you're working for their staff. Also, this is an internship. You're not in a position to change policy, and long term it's something you're going to move on from.

So I wouldn't really feel guilty if I were you. I wouldn't have done it myself, but I don't think you're contributing to some net evil in the world. If anything maybe there's a small chance that the personal relationships you're building with other people on that staff might bring some folks around.

Personal connections are usually the only thing that ever does.

As for people getting mad at you -- I need to tell you a secret: you're working in customer service. You're going to have to just sort of take it. The people calling you are often not going to be able to rationalize the difference between someone who just works there and someone making decisions. You took an internship with this person's office, which means you're going to get all the vitriol spilled onto you.

That's just going to happen. But, like, it would also happen if you were working for GameStop.

If you want to get involved in politics, the one thing you need to develop is a thick skin. You're going to spend your life getting the foulest things said to you, and you just need to learn to not let it affect you personally if you're going to get anything done.

And heck, if it does get to be too much... quit? It's an internship. You're not getting paid.

[fivewantscoffee]

Yeah, if it was going to be a broken timelines issue, it would make so much more sense for Five to be the reason they are broken in the first place. I wish we'd gone with that instead of... you know.

Then the subway existing has an actual point, because the inciting incident was when our Five (the original Five) time travelled for the first time. And they still have to sacrifice the current versions of themselves to fix that but it isn't all bleak and for nothing.

Reginald and Allison's world still ends because of the Cleanse or whatever, but that isn't where it ends.

Five transports them all to the subway and sits them down to explain what's going on. The constant, non-stop apocalypses aren't random: they're a symptom of the broken timelines. They're trying to repair themselves by ending the world because they were never supposed to exist in the first place.

Five gets to have his total breakdown over being the reason the world keeps ending, then Lila eventually proposes a way to try and fix things.

Cue to the Hargreeves having to try and find their original timeline, getting lost for some time and all that.

Diego and Lila work out their issues. Allison gets to address her entire S3 Thing. She apologises to Luther, and then they can maybe have a heart to heart about how Allison got Claire back, but it cost Luther his wife.

The six-year timeskip is explored in some more detail, revealing what they did after separating at the end of S3, the hardships they faced, how they reconnected and got to where they were when the season began.

So, they find the right timeline eventually. They step out into Five's apocalypse and travel back in time to the day he time-travelled for the first time. The plan is to convince him not to.

They don't know if this is going to work, but it's all that's left to try. If they do nothing, the apocalypses are just going to keep on happening regardless. They can keep running, but there will always be something world-ending right behind them.

So they wait for Five to run out of the academy, all of thirteen and about to ruin his life in a jump our Five has regretted since the day he made it. This time, they confront him before he jumps.

They convince him not to time travel, telling him exactly what it is this jump will lead to. Five doesn't soften the blow or mince words; he needs his past self not to time travel, to never use this facet of his powers again.

Time wasn't made to be messed with.

They succeed, Five's past self doesn't time travel. He blinks back inside, to his room presumably, because he's not about to face Reginald right now.

The Hargreeves all stand around for a moment, looking at the Academy, at each other. Eventually, Klaus nudges Five. They all turn around and leave, too.

They end up at a park, where they sit down, they talk, and as time passes, they start to feel it.

The future - their past - is being changed.

All of the offshoot timelines are being erased, and theirs might have been the first one, but it is still an offshoot. In changing the past, this version of Five is also no longer the original. We get an actual, heartfelt goodbye before they all go.

Next, we see Five and his siblings as young adults in the original, fixed timeline. They're all nineteen, and as we bounce around from one character to another, we see what they're up to:

Luther walks into a coffee shop. He orders something, and as the camera pans to show the person at the till, a French exchange student who looks a lot like Sloane is revealed to be taking his order.

We see a floor being mopped. It's Diego in a slightly bare-looking apartment, large cardboard boxes scattered all around while he listens to music and dances to it. He's clearly in the process of moving house, and Eudora is there to help him. Grace's cross stitch hangs on the wall.

Allison is at an audition. She looks excited and a little bit nervous, but mostly happy to be here. When her turn comes around, she is 100% ready for it.

Klaus, Five, and Ben are all doing their own thing. Five is attending a university lecture. Ben is alive. Viktor is seen playing the violin, using his powers.

Finally, Lila is at the airport, boarding a plane. She puts on a pair of headphones, and music starts blasting. Fade to black.

The narrator says his part about how on the eighth day of August 2024 absolutely nothing happened. It was a normal day. The end, credits roll etc. etc.

[dead-boys-club]

†  memories : katsuki.

❥ scenario: i wish that you would stay in my memories. ❥ no triggers; not rated. ❥ no betas. ❥ requested.

it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

you hadn’t planned on running into him again - not after everything, not after the way things ended back in ua. but here he was, standing in the doorway of your kitchen with his familiar presence filling the space, making it feel smaller and too quiet all at once.

what was he even doing?

katsuki didn’t say anything at first, just leaned against the counter with that same intense expression you remembered from years ago. it was the look he used to give you when he was trying to hold something back, wrestling with words he didn’t know how to say. part of the reason you weren't together anymore - his inability to communicate.

the silence stretched on, heavy with everything left unsaid, until he finally spoke, his voice low and rough. “you’re still… here.” The words hung in the air, not just a statement of where you were standing, but an echo of the past he’d never fully let go.

you were struggling to keep it in the past.

you tried to keep your voice steady, folding your arms to create some barrier, any kind of shield between you and the memories that threatened to surface. “yeah, still here. you too, apparently.”

he nodded, glancing around, his gaze lingering on the little details that hadn’t changed since the days you’d spent here together, laughing, arguing, and just… existing in each other’s lives. back then, the kitchen had been your shared refuge, a place where he’d let himself soften, where you’d sit on the counter while he grumbled about his day, cooking you dinner.

he occasionally stayed up to pack you little lunches.

“things… look the same,” he muttered, barely meeting your eyes. His voice was softer, almost vulnerable in a way that katsuki bakugo rarely allowed himself to be. “it’s like nothing changed.”

but you both knew it had. the years had shifted you in ways that made even simple conversations feel different, edged with a mixture of nostalgia and lingering pain.

you looked away, swallowing the ache that rose in your throat. “People change, katsuki. things end, whether we want them to or not.”

he flinched at your words, as if you’d struck him. the line between his brows deepened, his frustration clear. “i know that. doesn’t mean it doesn’t still… mess with my head, alright?” his fists clenched at his sides, a habit he’d never grown out of. “sometimes i feel like i could walk in and… like you’d still be here, waiting.”

the admission hung between you, raw and unguarded, and it made something inside you twist painfully. he’d always been so determined, so sure of himself, but now there was a crack in his armor, a glimpse of the hurt he never let show.

“katsuki,” you said quietly, finally meeting his gaze. “we’re both different people now. you’re a hero. you’ve got your life, your work. And me… i’ve moved on.” the words felt hollow, even as you tried to convince yourself that they were true.

his jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with something fierce and unspoken. “have you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of his words crashed over you like a wave.

he had always been able to see straight through you.

you wanted to say yes, to give him the closure he needed, but standing here, with the ghost of your past filling the air around you, the answer felt so much harder to hold onto.

he pushed off the counter, stepping closer, his presence intense and overwhelming, as it had always been. “i just… i can’t stand thinking of someone else here,” he muttered, his voice laced with an anger he could barely contain. “thinking that this could’ve been us.”

the words cut deep, stirring the memories you’d tried so hard to bury. in his eyes, you saw the reflection of what could have been - a life you’d once dreamed of, a love you’d thought would last. but the years had taught you that some things weren’t meant to be, no matter how much you wanted them.

with a shaky breath, you took a step back, creating a space between you that felt both necessary and agonizing. “kat… you know we can’t go back.”

he looked away, his shoulders slumping in defeat. for a moment, you saw the boy he’d been back in ua, the one who’d held you with a fierceness that made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered. but now, as he turned to leave, you knew that part of him was as lost to you as you were to him.

and as the door closed behind him, you were left in the silence of a kitchen that still held the echoes of a love that neither of you had ever truly let go.

[gliphyartfan]

Hi I saw your last headcanons about The heroes joining The Villains to take down Hylia for readers sake(I really liked The headcanons, They were really good) But i have my question about The zeldas, I cant stop thinking that They would get an interest in The Reader (Maybe Platónic, maybe Romántic Is up to you) And I cant stop thinking that they Would join The chains plan to take down Hylia(Maybe The Make a truce with The chain to take down Hylia with The less count of possible deceased people to finally kill The Villain) I dunno i had this idea and I had to say it, hope you have a nice day

First off…I’m not much of a fan of the princesses…

BUUUUT, I can accept coming up with ideas about them for others…BUT NOT OFTEN!

Anywho I haven’t put much thought on all of them so I’ll just do a few. Sorry 😅

Sun wouod have the most complicated feelings here since she’s literally Hylia reborn as a mortal. Her interest in Reader would likely be tied to a deep guilt and sense of responsibility, she’s living with the burden of what Hylia does to Reader. Yeah the Hylia that did it is FAAAR into the future, but it’ll a version of her who no longer is SUN.

She probably sees helping the Chain as a way to make amends, even if it means going against everything she was once meant to represent.

She probably sees Reader as almost sacred and feels like she owes them something she can’t fully repay.

She wants to protect them, and there’s this raw, almost reverent quality to it. She’s the one who might pull Reader aside to give them quiet reassurances, to show that she’s on their side despite the history that hangs over her head.

Some of the guys, like Time, Legend, and Warriors, maybe Wild might not fully trust her, understandably so.

They’d question her motives and wonder if, when it comes down to it, she’d side with Hylia.

Sun would be determined to prove her loyalty to Reader, and that might lead to some pretty heated arguments, especially with heroes who are cautious around her.

Artemis wouod be all about strategy really teaming up with the Chain as a logical choice to take down Hylia, not just for Reader’s sake but also for the sake of her people. Considering hers is literal a war-torn era and even if the timelines were repaired, the damage the war did to HER era specifically is still there .

She’s not sentimental about it; she just wants to get the job done with minimal fallout.

Buuut seeing how devoted the Chain is to Reader, she’d definitely gain a lot of respect for Reader.

She’d have a lot of admiration for Reader, seeing them as almost warrior like in their own right. She’s drawn to how Reader stands up to things way beyond their control and keeps pushing back. There would be no flowery language from her; she simply respects Reader, and it shows. (Friendship no jutsu will happen eventually, it just takes time for her to warm up to Reader.)

Tetra would be in this for her own reasons, but helping Reader aligns well with her goals. She, like Wind, isn’t familiar with Hylia but seeing the Chain actively fighting against her is all she needs to dive in. Especially when she warms up to Reader. She’d be on board to take Hylia down without a second thought.

She would be egging the Chain on to take bold steps against Hylia. There’s no hesitation on her end; she’d be telling them, “If you’re in, go all the way.” Her approach would definitely add some urgency to their plans, maybe pushing the Chain into action when they might otherwise hesitate. (She’s a pirate, what do you expect)

She’d be the semi-tsundere, definitely would warm up quickly to Reader, especially if Reader adores her pirating stories or genuine is interested in learning how ships works.

Aurora probably the most lowkey out of all of them, but don’t underestimate her. She’d see the Chain’s determination and want to support them out of a genuine belief that Reader deserves a better fate.

Her relationship with Reader would likely be gentle and kind, she’s the one offering small comforts.

She sees something special in Reader’s humanity and probably feels they’ve been through way too much already.

She’d be the one who connects with them in quiet moments.

She’d mediate between any Zeldas who don’t see eye to eye. If Artemis is pressing for strict strategy while Tetra is pushing for impulsive action, Aurora would be the voice of reason, urging a balanced approach to keep them all on track

And….thats all I could come up with. Sorry I couldn’t think of the others. I may come back to this later if I think up more.

(I won’t mind writing for the Zeldas. It’ll just take some time 😅)

[thezombieprostitute]

I recently saw a pair of ladies' underwear available online (I swear this is the most questionable way I've ever begun a message to someone, I swear I was just shopping) that had the text 'Achievement Unlocked' printed on the front, and that made me think of Jake & Tech Tuesdays. 😅 Just thought I'd share in case you were amused by it.

This is definitely going in the Jake & Sunshine Flashback Files.

Summary: Jake knows he's the luckiest man in the world and it's all because of you.

Warnings: Mild smut. Please let me know if I missed any!

Word Count: ~2.1k

A/N: Reader is female. No physical descriptors used.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Jake was nervous. More nervous than he'd ever been in his life. And he'd been shot at before! It was your first date and he really wanted things to go well. You were so beautiful, kind, funny, smart and he was just a dork who got by everyone that he talked too much. Well, everyone but you told him that. It was another reason he felt he really needed to make this date perfect. No one else treated him so well and he knew he had to treat you like the angel of mercy and light you were to him.

What he didn't know was that you were just as nervous. The cute IT guy who never dissuaded you from talking about your interests, even shared your interests, was taking you on a date! You knew you weren't likely to find someone else as sweet. Well, sweet for now. A part of you was kept in check, reminding you that upfront kindness and interest rarely lasted longer than a month or so. Still, Jake felt different than those other guys. You felt so safe around him, and that counts for a lot!

Jake hits the buzzer for your apartment right on time. He'd been standing there for at least 20 minutes but didn't want to hit the button too early or too late. When you confirm it's him you hit the button to let him up and do all the last second preparations you think you need to make. He knocks on the door and you open it to find him holding a bouquet of yarn skeins. Your hands fly to your mouth in surprise and you bounce on your toes with excitement. Jake breathes a sigh of relief at the evidence that it was the right move.

Your first date is a blur of laughter, friendly conversation, and even some snuggling. Being the gentleman that he is, Jake walks you to your building door and you both feel the sparks fly at your first kiss. You won't know it for a few more months but after you parted ways for the night, you both did an excited victory dance.

It's your second date and you're so much more giddy than nervous. You and Jake had been messaging each other so much at work you were scared HR was going to step in. And you continued to have your lunches together whenever you could. You marveled at the fact that Jake hadn't seemed to tire of you talking about your favorite shows and movies.

Jake was equally happy that he could talk to you about his favorite things. He could jabber on and on and you would never scoff at him, derisively call him a nerd, ask him who cares about these things. And you would counter with your own good points and perspectives. He swears your conversations are the highlight of his days.

In fact, your second date was just an extended version of your lunch dates, but neither of you seemed to mind. You were both so comfortable and enjoying the time together. There was significantly more snuggling and you didn't wait for Jake to walk you to your door before you started kissing him. Jake was internally struggling to keep himself in check. Desperately wanting to make you happy, overjoyed at the affection, and trying to pay attention to your signals so he wouldn't overstep.

You wanted to bring Jake up to your apartment but you also didn't want to move too fast. He was so sweet, smart and strong and you didn't want to ruin it. Gently pushing his chest, he gets the hint and lets up. You thank him for a wonderful night and kiss the tip of his nose before giggling and asking him for a third date. Any fear you had that he'd be disappointed was gone the second his smile grew and his eyes lit up.

The work week before your third date was grueling. You were both so eager for the weekend, for unfettered access to each other, it made the work days go by so much slower. The two of you spent your lunches practically cuddling as you ate, exchanging little kisses. You'd been told that, so long as your work wasn't affected, HR would not step in. Though you're pretty sure you've seen some coworkers roll their eyes at you.

You try not to take it to heart when one or two of them give you a "friendly warning" about him losing interest after he gets sex. Jake's already so delightfully different from other guys you dated. He actually listened to you about your likes and dislikes. He didn't get you flowers, he got you yarn! He didn't order for you at restaurants. He didn't do backhanded compliments. He felt so genuine.

In fact, you felt so confident about Jake that, during your lunch, you asked him if he'd be willing to change up the plans for that weekend's date.

"What did you have in mind?" he stammers, hoping the last minute change isn't a bad sign.

"I was thinking," you hesitate a little. "I was thinking you could come over to my place and...and I'll cook? And we can watch movies together?" Heat rushes to your face as you start second guessing yourself.

Jake takes your hand, "that sounds awesome! Is there anything you want me to bring? Do you want me to help cook? I'm not much of a cook, but I can definitely clean up! Oh, and would you like me to bring some of my DVDs? We can compare libraries if you'd like."

You giggle, feeling a lot better than you did a few seconds ago. "Well, you said you have the Collector's Edition Highlander?"

He beams, "I'll happily bring it!"

As soon as he gets to his desk, Jake immediately calls up his friend, Cougar, for advice. He explains the conversation and Cougar just chuckles and says, "relax. Take a deep breath and be yourself. She's clearly into it."

"Thanks for that," Jake sarcastically replies.

"You're welcome," Cougar replies before hanging up.

Jake arrives with the promised DVD and, in lieu of a bouquet, he hands you a floral Lego set that has you bouncing on your toes in delight. As you let Jake inside he takes a deep breath and his mouth is immediately watering at the delicious smells from the kitchen. His cheeks turn pink as you both hear the grumbling from his stomach.

"Please tell me you've eaten today," you say, a little giggle in your voice.

"I...I'm pretty sure I did," he replies, his hand running through his hair as his cheeks redden. "I know I ate breakfast, I can promise that much." In truth he'd spent so much of the day nervous about the date he'd done everything except eat.

"You need to take better care of yourself," you gently chide with a kiss to his cheek. "I hope you don't mind that it's only spaghetti and garlic bread."

"'Only'? That sounds divine! And not just because I'm hungry."

"I'm glad to hear it," you confess. "I just need to dish it up and then we can eat. You can go ahead and sit."

Jake goes to the table, "which chair is yours?" You give him a confused look so he continues, "I mean, I'm a guest. I don't want to take your favorite spot. If you prefer this chair or that, I'll take the other one."

You smile in understanding and direct him to the chair that's further from the kitchen.

You bring out the plates and can't help but giggle at how he looks like such an eager puppy. The two of you talk, conversation flowing easily. Though you've only known each other a few months, it really feels like you've been together forever. There's a feeling of safety in each other's presence that makes you want to be together for the rest of forever.

When the meal is over you suggest it's time to start the movie, but as it starts up, neither of you is really paying much attention. Instead your both very aware of each other's presence. Jake had trouble keeping his breathing steady as you snuggled up to him. You had to fight to keep your hands in your lap, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. Instead you opt to lay your head on his shoulder and he wraps his arm around your shoulders.

That's when you decide to try to be a bit bold.

You move one of your hands to Jake's leg and gauge his reaction. You think you hear his breath hitch but he doesn't protest. You start slowly, gently rubbing your hand along the leg of his jeans and his breathing definitely quickens.

"I can stop if you'd like me to," you rasp. You'd been so focused on Jake's breathing you hadn't realized how much your own had quickened.

Jake's brain is in panic mode. He wants you to never stop touching him, but he doesn't want you to feel like you have to. Then again, you're offering to keep going, you started this of your own volition. "Please don't stop," he finally croaks out.

"Would...would you like me to touch more than just your leg?" The groan Jake lets out makes you feel like his brain has just short circuited and needs a restart. "I mean, we don't have to. Especially if you're not comfortable with it." You remove your hand from his leg. "I never want you to be uncomfortable. I'm so sorry if I--".

You're cut off by Jake grabbing both sides of your face and bringing you in for a deep kiss. Your body moves mostly on instinct as you move to straddle him, and he moans into your mouth as you settle over his hard-on. You gently roll your hips and he whimpers, making the corners of your mouth turn up into a smile. You pull away from him and giggle as his lips follow yours.

"Not...not to be...too forward," you gasp, "but would...would you like to um, to...the bedroom?"

Jake looks into your eyes and sees how hopeful yet scared you are. He wants nothing more than to live up to that hope. He's so scared he's going to disappoint you. That it'll be a deal-breaker for you if he's not good enough in bed. In truth, disappointing you feels like it would break him. At the same time, if he doesn't take you up on your offer, you'll be disappointed as well. He ends up nodding his heading, not trusting himself to speak.

"Are you sure, Jakey? I need you to tell me 'yes'."

"Yes, oh dear lord, yes. I want you so badly that I'm scared I'll disappoint you. Please, yes, I've wanted this for so long--"

He's cut off by your finger moving over his lips in a shushing fashion as you giggle. "You don't have to prove anything," you promise. You get off of his lap and hold out your hand for him. He accepts, kissing the back of your hand, then up your arm, then along your collarbone, making you giggle again.

You lead him to your bedroom and sit on the bed before pulling him over you. He's very careful not to crush you but when you wrap your legs around his hips and pull him in close he loses a little control. You moan as you feel more of his weight on you and he lets his hands roam everywhere he can get them.

As clothes start to come off you marvel at how muscular Jake really is. You'd known he was strong but seeing it was something else. You trace your fingers along some of his tattoos as he works over your breasts. He's fondling, pinching, licking, nipping and you swear you're going to lose your mind from how good it feels. You start moaning his name and Jake swears he's in heaven.

"Jake," you coo, making him stop everything so he can listen to you. "Wanna feel you inside me, please?"

"You're too good to me, Sunshine," he rasps.

He starts pulling off your pants but stops when he sees your panties. They have the Xbox Achievement Unlocked icon. Jake looks at you and give him a sly smile and a wink.

"I...I may have planned for this," you confess, heat rushing to your face. "I just...wanted to be prepared."

Jake laughs and kisses you all over, feeling a renewed sense of calm. A sense that he was going to be okay. That you were his safe space.

-------

He saw those panties again a few years later on your wedding night.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory;

@late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly