#that’s over ten pages a day to get this shit in what’s wrong with me why didn’t I work on this earlier why did I think I’d be ok

[largetriangles]

…

[evilminji]

Oh god :Dc a Danny Summons Contract

No you guys DON'T UNDERSTAND-!

Just. Danny! Only Danny! He fucked up. Some ancient Warring States Ninja fucked up. They BOTH agreed to NEVER talk about it again.

Cause like? That ninja? Was a GROWN ASS MAN. A qualified BAMF of the highest order. He WAS the Danger, thank you very much. So, he? Will NEVER live down being saved by...well...

*holds up wildly struggling, noodle limbed, sad wet raccoon havin a terrible day lookin, meat thresher on legs*

THIS.

It's a BABY. Honestly, his Clan's TODDLERS know how to throw better punch. This scrawny infant baby child is both? His new son. AND an embarrassing trainwreck in motion. FFS kid, that's not how you- No! NO! Don't you DARE bite that opponent! You don't know where they've B-!

Kid they could have BEEN POISONED!!! Spit um OUT! DROP UM! Drop that RIGHT NOW! What are you? A dead Inuzuka? A god forsaken Hatake!? DROP IT!!!

It...sure is An Adventure™.

One of many early "here's how you DON'T make a Summoning contract" experiments, that Clans without seal masters were attempting. He's honestly lucky HIS attempt ended with him still... you know... ALIVE. Problem, though? After bunking for like... a few months? A year? In the command center?

And you know, terrorizing the GIW into complete collapse. Parenting him through some pretty serious life changes. Somehow making Sam MORE terrifying. And a whole host of off screen ninja shenanigans? They figure out? Oh. Only way to send him HOME is to either accept or refuse a Contract.

They gotta make one.

First they head to Frostbite for a recommendation, then? Off to a reputable Ghost Lawyer they go! They have to camp in the waiting room for like... a week. But? Worth it! The contract is AMAZING. And terrifying! Protects them both. Can't be used against EITHER. And that loophole you're thinking off? Ten pages worth of point 4 script, twenty three yards down, for why it's a BAD IDEA and breaks contract~!

Neither of them can make the other do SHIT! Only fully consensual, mutually beneficial, ass kicking here! If we FEEL LIKE IT!

Ninja dad insisted. Never sign a contract with anything less then extreme paranoia, kid! Leave no "implied" or "spirit of the rules"! Loopholes are holes in your armor, with which your enemy stabs you in the back!

Danny, tearfully, sends ninja dad home.

Gross. Emotions all over his armor. If only there wasn't all this sand in his eyes, he'd definitely complain about it. *stoic ninja hug*

Danny? Become a king. One of many. An Ancient. Becomes FUCKING HUUUUUUUUGE. Like? "Aw, your city is so pwecious~☆ n smol~♡! Whats it called again? New York?" Huge. A fuckin LEVIATHAN made of void, stars, and space ice. A Winter corpse, marked by lightning, that became the night sky itself. With a crown of aurora borealis, ever shifting, like flame.

Proportional, in a way, to Summon Bosses. Just as a normal human is to a normal toad, a normal cat, a normal slug. So too, is Danny LARGER then them.

You know... when he feels like it.

The contract? Passes down. Ninja dad does warn his kin. Prooooobably not gonna answer you. He only answers ME cause I'm, well, ME.

Fuckin BET. They declare. And lose. Repeatedly.

Time marches on. The Senju and Uchiha has their Drama. Dear KAMI do they Have Their Drama. Please Stop, says everyone. They... do not. The contract? Fuckin STOLEN. Because of course it is.

It's a HUGE, glowing, death radiating Summons Contract kept in a shrine behind like... SO MANY seals. It makes anyone less then a full grown JOUNIN physically SICK to even touch! Prolonged exposure kills people! Of COURSE it gets fuckin stolen. It's obviously a super, mega, ultra rare AMAZEBALLS Summon Contract... right?

Eeeeeeeeeeeh *so-so hand motion* KINDA!

It IS technically that.

They ain't wrong. Cause Danny IS an Adult now. A King. Connected to the Zone. An ANCIENT. Beyond and Above his mortal origins, even as, by being a Halfa, he is utterly the same. That contract is as close as one could GET to having a contract with the Sage himself.

You know... if he answered you.

Felt like your petty bullshit was worth getting up off the couch for.

Not to MENTION? He can make clones! Like.... billions of them now. Has a skeleton army. Is kinda one of the stronger Ancients. But that's not the point. The POINT? Clones. Don't have to be EQUAL facets of self.

You CAN make a .00001% clone of yourself!

Behold *summons poof noise* Lil Baby Man!

The harbinger of Danny! Here to Test Your VIBEZ™. He sends them each time. To be an adorable menace. Cause problems on purpose. Be gremlins, chew on table legs, maybe. You know, the works! They RADIATE his " I Am Death." Energy. But also his "winter, protection, and starlight" vibes... if you're brave enough to LOOK.

If you don't flinch away from a spirit of the dead. Can embrace the chaotic nature of a Zone ghost. Are kind to something that isn't what you expected, that you can USE, that appears weaker then you. Something that seems dumb. Distractable. Useless in battle.

Can you be kind? Do you immediately give up? To recognize a test when you see one? Is your first impulse cruelty? Distain? It tells Danny a lot. Saves him time.

Which? Is how a young Itachi, freshly Jounin'd, gets thrown through an old and rotting wooden gate into what LOOKS like a vaguely demonic death shrine. Hmmm, concerning. Baby 'tachi has been separated from his teammates. Is having a Bad Time™. The crows can't really help much here.

And, well, that IS a Summoning contract...

He's outnumbered. Low on both weapons and Chakra. Refuses to do anything BUT return home to his family. His baby brother. Is it WISE? No. It is in fact, incredibly, incredibly UNWISE. He has no idea what he'll be agreeing too. But... so long as he live just a bit longer...

He slams an earth wall against the entrance.

Falls back to the Glowing Contract.

Stumbles, as even landing near it makes his insides revolt. His skin prickle and burn. Colder then the nine tails Chakra, emptier, yet somehow endlessly more ABSOLUTE.

It's like the very Chakra in his body screams against it. Rejects it's mere presence. As though all thing alive REFUSE it with desperation and fear. He has no time to muse upon this. It hurt his hand to touch. He does so anyway. Struggling to hold the earthwall against enemy attacks.

He doesn't bother to read the contract. Flings it from the pedestal, to unravel, so he may sign quickly. There. With a practiced motion, he nicks his finger, and scrawls his future away. Whatever demons may come. Whatever monsters this brings. Please... let him live long enough to say goodbye.

The world CRACKS as he summons.

Death and the Shinigami are not the same.

Even those without the ability to sense are battered by the tsunami of... not killing intent. No. There is no intent. No killing. Just... knowing. Heraldry. That Death comes for us all. You can not escape. Foolish and small, is this what you waste your existence on? Ants before a god. Dust before the heavens. He... he can not... breathe...

Frozen. Eyes wide. Sharigan spinning, spinning, spinning. Capturing the delicate lace of nothingness, absence of life, as it drifts by. Unable to move from where he kneels, bloody hand pressed to the ground, in a Summoning.

What Has He Done?

Outside there is panic. Screaming. They flee. He... he wishes he could flee. W...why can't he-? *THHHWAP!* Mmmmph?! Something small and almost bird shaped smacks into his face like a flung ration. Tiny arms spread wide to cling to his bangs and dangle. The deathy power fades... almost... almost as though it were... a threat display?

He focuses on the tiny creature whining and hugging his face. It... is a floating snake toddler? Or is it dragon? They have sharp little claws and stars along their face, a tiny whispy mane of white. Likely a dragon child then. They stick their small tounge out slightly, eyes the blankly trusting stare of small children everywhere.

He clearly want to be carried. Ah. Of course, little one.

Did... did he agree to raise a dragon?

Just?

Itachi, smol. Serious. With lil baby man floped on his head or tucked lovingly in his arms. The TEXTBOOK definition of "he don't bite" "YES HE DO!!!" For everyone but Itachi and Sasuke. To whom he is, of course, an INNOCENT BABY who has NEVER done anything wrong EVER. An angel! Why is everyone being so MEAN to poor innocent baby man? Boo hoo~!

It fucks up SO MANY plans.

Because Itachi. A smol child. INSISTS he is a Father now. What are you going to do? Say he can be? Why? Because he's a CHILD? Which is it? Is he a Jounin or a Dependant? An adult in the eyes of the law or a child to be protected by said law from pushing him off to war? Old enough to die, old enough to parent his dragon son!

And SORRY Father, he CANT join Anbu. Who would be there for his child? Ah, he should join a parenting group. *various competent parent instincts go haywire over this tiny Uchiha child in need of parenting* Danzo? For some reason his son seems to really, REALLY hate him. Better avoid him. His child doesn't know yet not to bite respected elders.

Sasuke? Gets to be an UNCLE! To a DRAGON! He takes his job very seriously.

It's the best PR the clan has ever had.

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @hypewinter @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @legitimatesatanspawn @lolottes @mutable-manifestation

[verstappen-cult]

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL | CL16

— 04. THE CLIFFHANGER

PREV. PART | NEXT PART — [ SERIES MASTERLIST ]

summary: in which charles has an embarrassing crush on alex's childhood best friend and everyone meddles. content warnings: faceclaim is taylor hill but you can picture her as you’d like! some cursing and a tiny bit of angst because why not.

TWITTER — JUL 11 & 12, 2023

INSTAGRAM POST — JUL 15, 2023

Liked by user98, y/n_gossip and 315,886 others

paddockgossip We have some interesting news about Charles and Y/N relationship! They both were at an event last night, but with two different people and (thanks to our insider!) we know that they didn’t talked or crossed paths, they didn’t even looked at each other! Do we know why? Maybe it was Charles’ plus one, who is, if you’ve been following their relationship, the same girl Charles was seen with back in Austria.

Trouble in paradise? We all saw the pictures of Y/N and her ex-boyfriend Andrew Garfield out and about in London just a few days ago. And now we only have this mess which seems to be following both Charles and Y/N everywhere they go.

Is this the end of a relationship that had only just begun?

view all 1,425 comments

user98 i don’t think they’re together anymore. it didn’t look serious from the beginning

user99 Charles deserves better. This girl was on a date with her ex boyfriend a few days ago, I wouldn’t forgive that so easily.

user01 okay but you don’t know what happens behind closed doors user99 I’m just saying what Charles should do. user02 but you’re not charles leclerc, are you?

user03 i’m a child of divorce

user04 I haven’t even got them over my parents divorce and now this happens

user05 They both are being sooo childish

user06 i prefer him dating his friend than this girl

user07 what friend? user06 the one he was with in Austria, i think she’s an influencer, i’m not sure user08 y/n is WAY better user09 Maybe Charles is the problem. Let’s not do this awful thing between women like you always do when shit happens

user10 I hate gossip pages so much.

user11 NOOO I loved them together 😭

user12 that was such a power couple

Y/N’S iMESSAGE — JUL 15, 2023

INSTAGRAM STORIES — JUL 17, 2023

INSTAGRAM POST

📍 PARIS, FRANCE — JUL 25, 2023

Liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc and 892,556 others

charles_leclerc A little escapade before flying to Belgium. I haven’t slept in two days, can you see?

view all 7,478 comments

user13 someone teach him how to dress

user14 y/n was doing a good job user13 but then they broke up user15 THEY WHAT

user16 hold on ☝🏻 he’s in france??? in a fashion show?? as in y/n’s walking that fashion show fashion show??

user17 I WAS THINKING THE SAME THING user18 I think you’re onto something

user19 why is he wearing that to a FASHION show

user20 is it true he’s dating an italian influencer?

user21 Charles is dating @/yourusername user22 no they broke up user23 we don’t know that

user24 Y/N’S IN THE LIKES

user25 WAR IS OVER OH MY GOOOD JSHDVDHAJAA

user26 i’m in denial until someone confirms y/n and charles broke up

user27 you and me both user28 charles is attending the same fashion show she’s in. look at her stories!!

📍 PARIS, FRANCE — JUL 25, 2023

Liked by jennaortega, florencepugh and 77,480 others

voguemagazine Say hello to our @/yourusername opening this week’s #FashionShow in Paris.

comments on this post have been disabled

📍 PARIS, FRANCE — JUL 25, 2023

Liked by f1gossip_news, y/nnews, and 135,765 others

paddockgossip Alert, Alert! Charles Leclerc and his girlfriend, Y/N L/N, spotted leaving the Fashion Show Y/N walked in just a few hours ago. They’re currently in Paris, a quick ‘escapade’ as the Monégasque called it before flying all the way to Belgium for the final race before the Summer Break.

Remember that just ten days ago we were telling you how we thought things weren’t good between them and were waiting for a breakup confirmation. We were wrong! Let’s hope things are okay and we can see more of Y/N paddock’s fashion in the future. All the best for them.

view all 3,557 comments

user29 oh god no please

user30 I thought we already got rid of her

user31 i don’t like her, she doesn’t seem nice

user32 Mmh this kinda looks like PR

user33 i thought the same but idk in the pics pop crave shared they look v cozy

user34 some people feel too comfortable judging y/n just because it’s charles.

user35 like grow up girl you’re never gonna date him lol

user36 this comment section didn’t pass the vibe check

user37 charles always dates toxic people

user38 i doesn’t seem serious to me

user39 matching glasses, such a power couple

user40 i don’t like her but they look good together

user41 i hate her sm she’s everywhere 🤢

user42 if you don’t know her just search what happened between her and sebastian stan

user43 there’s a pretty long ass thread on twitter with timelines and all y’all should check it out user44 that relationship was so toxic i’m glad my boy found his way out of there user45 she has said in a lot of interviews that she regrets everything that happened between them and that they’re on good terms now user46 besides they both were so young user45 they blame her when he was the one who cheated on her a hundred times

user47 she’s ben through a lot of toxic relationships i hope this one is different

comments on this post have been disabled

TWITTER — JUL 25, 2023

TAGLIST (bold means i couldn’t tag you) — @leclerc16s. @willowpains. @berrnuu. @minkyungseokie. @1655clean. @sassyheroneckgiant. @nessacarty1. @a1leexxa. @storminacloud. @lovstappen. @littlehoneyfreak. @paintedbypoetry. @miakat9. @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir. @thatoneembarrasingmoment. @lyrasconstellation. @rhythmstars. @c-losur3. @apolloxxivmin. @janeholt3. @lovrsm. @gulphulp. @thecubanator2. @dark-night-sky-99. @ssprayberrythings.

note: oh my god!! hiii <3 sorry for not posting sooner but a few things happened and… well. there’s just only one chapter left! i can’t believe this is ending. like you don’t know that i had such a good time doing this smau. i’ll probably write an extra part, like a blurb or something about the conversation y/n and charles had if that’s something you’d like to read?! please let me know (it would be posted after the final chapter). 🤍

[peterman-spideyparker]

Just a Trim (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Author’s Note: I have been INSPIRED by Charlies D23 Expo look and thinking about it A LOT. This is just a cute, fluffy little blurb that I hope you enjoy!

Summary: When a haircut goes wrong and Matt needs to be in court in the afternoon, Karen calls in a favor. You come and save the day.

Warnings: Fluff, bad haircut, flirty Matt, some swears. Initially written in mind as fem!Reader, but I think it works as gender neutral, too!

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson, Karen Page

Word Count: 2,015

Matt loves Foggy so much. They’ve shared so many successes, losses, laughs, and straight up weird experiences. Through thick and thin, they make stuff work, even if not right away. He truly is the brother he never had. 

So it’s only fitting that Matt wants to punch Foggy flat out. 

In a loving, brotherly way, of course. 

“What the hell, Fog?” Matt calls as he folds up his cane and strides through the main reception area of Nelson, Murdock, and Page. 

“Uh, buddy?” he hears Foggy say, getting up from his desk chair and walking out of his office. “I don’t—oh, shit.”

“Yeah!” he huffs. “I thought you said he was a good barber!”

“He is!”

“Then why is my hair like this?”

“He . . . Must have been having an off day?”

“Foggy, I have to go to be in court this afternoon! I’m blind and even I know this doesn’t look good! I can’t go in to court looking like this!” Even before he was blinded, Matt was never one to be hung up on appearances. However, he knows that the rest of the world doesn’t share his viewpoints, and when it comes to being an attorney—especially an attorney in New York City—looks are everything.

“Matt, just takes a deep breath. We can figure something out.”

“Like what? I can’t fix this, I don’t think you can fix this—.”

“Hey, guys!” Karen says as the door swings open. “I just spoke with some of the other residents for the tenement case and—oh, shit.”

Matt lets out a groan of frustration as he rolls his head back in distress. “What am I gonna do, guys?”

“I . . . I’m gonna call in a favor,” Karen says, moving toward the reception area to put down purse and tote bag. She whips out her phone, tapping and scrolling until she finds the number she’s looking for. 

“(Y/N), hey!” she starts. “How are you? I’m good, but I have a bit of a favor to ask. One of my partners at our firm, he got a bad haircut, and he needs to be in court this afternoon for a tenement case. Do you have any—? Oh! Oh, um . . .” Matt can feel how Karen looks over toward him, as if she’s examining his hair for some kind of barber post-mortem. “Yeah, probably.” She sighs in relief. “You rock. We’ll see you soon. Thank you so much, (Y/N).”

Matt and Foggy wait in anticipation as Karen puts down her phone; clearly it’s good news, but they need the details. “They’ll be here in ten.”

“You have a hairdresser that makes house calls?” Foggy asks, a little confused. 

“(Y/N)'s been my friend since before I moved to the city and taking care of my hair since I came here. They're an amazing stylist. If anyone can fix this, it’s them.”

Matt nods in acceptance before moving to his office, trying to focus on some of his work to take his mind off the hair on his head. The short wait is agonizing, but his ears perk up when he hears someone approach the firm. 

“Hey,” you say as Karen opens the door for you. “I got here as fast as I could.”

“Thank you so much,” she says with a big hug. “You are a lifesaver.”

He listens to the pair of you make your way over to his office. He knows you’re going to be fixing his hair, but even still, he feels embarrassed to have you see him like this. 

“Hey, Matt, this is (Y/N),” Karen introduces.

“Hi,” you say kindly. “Sorry we’re meeting like this, but, I can make it better. Would you want me to set up in here, or is there a different spot?”

“Here’s fine,” he says with a small smile. “I can’t thank you enough for doing this. I just feel bad—I could’ve come to you. Doesn’t sound like you were too far.”

“Exactly. I wasn’t too far away. Karen said you needed to be in court this afternoon. All of your things are here; you can work and prep while I fix.”

Matt’s smile grows from something small to something big, and he can hear how your heartbeat increases. He listens as you unload your things, spreading out on a small side table as you get everything ready. 

“Do you want me to stay in this chair or sit on a different one?” he asks.

“If you cold roll over, that’d be great,” you say as you switch out one of the heads on the electric razor. He does as you ask before you turn your attention to him. “Alright,” you whisper to yourself. “Let me see what we have here.”

You gracefully run your fingers through his hair, undoing the styling that was done not even an hour ago to get a better assessment of the state of things. “It feels like they might have used a hair clay . . . Do you know what they might have put in?”

“No, I’m sorry. But hair clay sounds right.”

“Okay.” You walk wound him, analyzing his hair as your fingers card through it. “It doesn’t feel like a lot, so I’ll brush it out and we’ll go from there. For something like this, I’d ideally like to work with no product in your hair, but I’m not bending you over in the little kitchenette sink and using hand soap on you. That’d be cruel, and your hair has been through enough today.”

Matt smiles to himself as he listens to you move back to your bag and grab a different brush. He loves how focused you are. He closes his eyes as you run the brush through his hair over and over, the bristles scratching comfortably against his scalp. He’s sad when it’s over, but enjoys how your fingers card through his locks to reassess the hair. 

“It’s gonna have to be on the shorter side,” you breathe, gently tilting his head to the side with your fingers to get a view from all angles, your fingertips honing in on the sides of his head. “But I promise I’ll make it look good.”

“I trust you,” he hums as you drape an apron around is neck.

You get to work, buzzing, trimming, and combing through his hair, laser focused on the task at hand. With the way your hands handle him, he feels as if he could fall asleep in the chair. He gets so relaxed, he almost doesn’t realize that you’re finishing up your work until you speak to him. 

“How does that feel?” you ask as you put your scissors down on the table. Matt runs his hands through his hair to give it a feel. You were right, it is on the shorter side, but it’s even all around and it feels good—light, neat, and even.

“It feels good,” he says with a smile. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” you hum, taking a few steps back toward him, running your fingers through his hair again and styling it a little. “And you have a bit of a beard going, so it balances your face well. Very handsome.” Matt can hear you smile. “There.” The smile stays on your face as you gently brush cut hair off his neck before you undo the apron around him and start to fold it. “Also, I promise I’m not anti-social. I usually talk when I cut hair, but, this was a special exception. My clients usually don’t get a cut and then go up against bad guy prosecution teams in tenement cases. That kind of pressure requires laser focus.”

Matt chuckles softly as he stands, moving his chair back to his desk. “It was fun to listen to how focused you were. It’s definitely appreciated.”

“I had to make you look good for court, now, didn’t I?” you chuckle. He listens to you pull out a hand-held vacuum and clean up the hair on the floor. 

“You don’t need to do that.”

“I’m not going to leave hair on the floor,” you say as if it’s simple, obvious fact.

“You’ve already done enough for me.”

“Then this is the cherry on top,” you say, starting the little machine up. “I’m nothing if not prepared and thorough.”

Matt laughs as you quickly clean up and pack. He puts his hands into his pockets, sliding out his wallet and opening the fold. 

“Oh, no, you don’t need to,” you say, putting your hand on Matt’s to prevent him from pulling out the cash.

“You took time out of your day and your schedule to fix my hair. You came here to do it. You did your job. You just vacuumed my office. You’re going to get paid,” he kindly insists. 

“I know what kind of work you guys do here. You help so many people. You have good hearts. This is on the house.” You give his hand a little squeeze as slowly start to move from his office. “Good luck in court today. You’re gonna do great.”

He lifts his hand in a small wave and listens as you say goodbye to Foggy and Karen. When the door closes, the two of them eagerly shuffle into his office and look at his hair.

“Wow,” Foggy says. “You look like an attorney.”

“Told you (Y/N) was good,” Karen chuckles. “How does it feel, Matt?”

“Well, it feels shorter than I’d normally go, but they told me that before they started, and I said I was okay with it. It feels good, and it definitely sounds like it looks good.”

“You look like a rich guy,” Foggy chuckles. “A hot, rich guy. You’re gonna kill it in court this afternoon.”

Matt just smiles to himself, his confidence boosted, ego repaired, and his mind replaying how nice it felt when your fingers ran through his hair.

“Just a minute,” you call from a side closet when the bell on the door chimes. He listens you hop off a stool of some sort before coming out. “Hi, Claire, I—Matt,” you say surprised, but a smile growing on your face nonetheless. “H-How’d court go?”

“Good,” he says with a smile. “All thanks to your skills.”

“Oh.” He can sense how your cheeks flush. “You’re giving me far too much credit. I just gave you a haircut. You’re the one with the law degree.”

“You boosted my confidence. That’s a hell of a lot of work. Thank you for that.”

“Any time.”

He takes a couple steps forward, extending the bouquet in his hand toward you. “For you.”

“These are lovely,” you smile, taking it from his hands, sticking your nose in the fragrant flowers. “I love tulips.”

“Karen helped me with that one,” he admits. “Leaving it a just a thank you didn’t feel like enough after all that you did. I still would’ve wished you would have let me pay you, though.”

“Wasn’t gonna happen. You might be a good lawyer, but I can be stubborn. I hope the flowers weren’t your way to try and butter me up to accept payment or something.”

He laughs. “No. I figured it wouldn’t work. It’s just another way for me to say thank you.”

You take a half step forward. “And?”

Now, it’s his turn to blush. “And . . . maybe to continue that thank you over dinner tonight?”

“Oh.” He senses how your heart skips a beat and more heat rises to your cheeks.

“Only if you want to,” he tacks on. “I didn’t mean to—.”

“Oh, no, trust me, I’d love to go out with you, I—.” You stop and cringe at your eagerness, trying to pivot. “Tonight is my late night. I don’t get off until eight.”

“That’s okay. Does tomorrow work better for you?”

“That’d be great. I’ll be finished up here by six. Does that sound okay?”

Matching smiles pull at your lips. “I’ll swing by here to pick you up.”

Matt takes a half step forward, placing a kiss on your cheek. “Have a nice night, (Y/N).”

“You too, Matt.”

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger @steampowerednightvaler @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles @toozmanykids @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop @itwasthereaminuteago @peter1ismybrother @hellskitchens-whore​​ @dpaccione @catnip987​ @blackhawkfanatic

Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters  @loves0phelia

[megumiluvv]

Silent Treatment

Cont: established relationship, bottom!suguru x top!gn (I think) reader, handjob (m!receiving), overstim (m!receiving), dacryphilia if you squint, porn with plot (I think??), reader was tired of suguru's shit, mentions of aftercare

word count: ~1,200 words

Masterlist

a/n: THIS IS MY FIRST TIME POSTING IM SO SCARED!!!1! This was brought to me in a vison (not really), and I needed to write it down, and I decided to share it! I don't expect a lot of attention from it but I hope whoever reads this enjoys. <3 (thank you @nanathott for encouraging me to post this!! I love your posts sm!)

〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎ ❀ 〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎

You hate the silent treatment. You two had been like this the entire day, Suguru ignoring you after an argument. You apologized after sleeping in the empty bed the night before, and he hadn’t said anything. You know that now it’s just him trying to piss you off; it’s obvious by the small smirk he has on his lips as he ignores you. You both are on the couch after a second day of silence from him. He reads as if nothing is wrong as you stare at him and pout, thinking of ways to get his attention.

“Suguru, I said I’m sorryyy,” You whine.

No response.

He flips the page of his book and keeps reading. You groan in frustration and stare at him, waiting for him to lift his gaze. He never does. You two sit there for ten minutes until you groan dramatically again and get off the couch, heading to the kitchen to make food. He doesn’t even acknowledge you.

You cook his favorite food, set the table for him, shut his book, and make him eat dinner with you. He doesn’t acknowledge you while eating. He is set on keeping silent just to piss you off. Suguru finishes eating, not even thanking you for cooking his favorite meal.

“Um, Suguru? Aren’t you forgetting something? A ‘thank you’, maybe?” You put your hands on your hips and give him a look.

Still, no response. 

You grab his chin and make him look at you. He presents that stupid smirk to you and you can’t stand him anymore. You pull him into a kiss and he happily accepts, trying to take control of the kiss but you don’t let him. You tug onto his hair- not roughly, but enough to prove your point- and he lets you take control of the kiss, letting your tongue slip into his mouth and explore his mouth. He groans into your mouth and puts his hands on your waist, teasing the hem of your shirt.

You pull back and look at him. “So now you wanna acknowledge me? Tell me ‘thank you’ for the dinner.”

“Thank you, baby.”

“For?”

“Thank you for making my favorite meal.”

“And?”

“And I’m sorry for ignoring you even after you apologized.” He rolls his eyes and smirks as he says this.

“You don’t look so sorry. Maybe I’ll have to make you.”

You grab his arm and drag him to the bedroom, sitting him on the bed and holding his neck as you kiss him. He hums into your lips as you kiss him, and he grabs your waist again. You push his hands down onto the bed and he looks at you. 

"You don't get to touch me while I'm punishing you, baby." You frown and go to your drawer. "Undress, Suguru."

He removes his clothes and curiously watches you over at your drawer, wondering what you're grabbing. 

"What is it, baby? What are you grabbing?" He asks, sitting on the bed in just his boxers. 

"Just some lube and maybe a few toys." You grin mischievously. 

"Not much of a punishment if you're getting me off, baby."

"Trust me, you'll see what I'm planning." 

You walk to the bed and tug off his boxers, his semi-hard cock resting against his thigh. You get some lube on your hands and start jerking him off, thumb grazing over his sensitive tip as he instantly hardens and his dick stands at full attention. He groans and tilts his head back as you continue your slow pace. 

"Baby, how is this punishment?"

"Oh, you'll see soon." You grin.

You continue to jerk him off and fondle his balls, the curse user's hips bucking against your hand. He runs a hand through his hair and watches you bring him closer to orgasm. The dark-haired male is a little worried that you're planning to edge him, so he doesn't fully get his hopes up about cumming just yet. You continue, though, much to his surprise, and he cums, tilting his head back and pretty groans escaping his mouth. What does surprise him is that you keep going after he cums, and he shoots his hands to yours, but you give him a glare. 

"Baby, you-" he sucks in a sharp breath, "you're overstimming me..." 

You don't listen, continuing to jerk him off. He groans and runs his hand through his hair again. You pull a second orgasm out of him quickly and he bucks his hips into your hand as you milk him. You keep going and he brings his hands to yours, stopping your movements. That draws a "tsk" out of you and you grab your cuffs and look at him. 

"I said this is a punishment, didn't I?"

He lets you cuff his hands behind his back and his body jolts as you go back to jerking him off. Your hands get tired, though, and you grab your vibrator, washing your hands as he gets overstimulated by the vibe. you sit next to him and open your own book, reading like he was earlier and ignoring his whimpers. 

"Baby, please, I'm sorry, I- ff-fuck- I'm sorry for giving you the silent treatment, please it's too much..." Suguru whines. 

His apologies and whimpers fall on deaf ears as you continue to read your book, text friends, and even turn on a video on your phone. He cums again and feels tears stinging his eyes. 

"Baby, I can't- fuck- I can't take it, it's too much, I really am sorry for ignoring you all day, I- ff-fuuuck." The dark-haired male reaches another orgasm as pretty tears start to stream down his cheeks. 

His sniffles and pretty cries draw your attention as you look at the mess before you. His hands clawing at the cuffs behind his back, body spasming from the intensity of his orgasms, face so precious as he cries from the overstimulation, it almost makes you want to stop and coddle him. Almost. You shut off the video you were watching and reach for the vibrator, which Suguru's eyes light up, thinking you're going to turn it off. You grin and turn up the intensity, and he cums again, his body shaking as he begs for you to turn it off. 

"Fuuck, baby, I can't- can't take it, too- fuck- too much!" He cries. 

You watch another orgasm drip out of his leaky cock, which makes you finally turn off the vibrator, uncuff his hands, and gently clean off his white-stained lap. 

"Aw, you learn your lesson now?" You coo and pepper kisses around his face. 

"Mhm... promise, I learned my lesson..." He whines.

You lay next to him and gently run your fingers through his hair as he slowly comes down from the overstimulation you put him through. The larger male nuzzles into you and you wipe his tears.

"You want to shower now or later, baby?" You whisper softly

"Later, need to nap..." He says meekly. 

"Let's sleep, then. I'll get you water after the nap and then we can have some snacks or dessert before we shower, yeah?"

"Yeah..." He mumbles and falls asleep while you play with his hair and plant little kisses all over his face. 

[haechrry]

Who's bad? | L.DH

PAIRING: Lee Haechan x Fem/reader (mentions of other idols)

GENRES: Strangers to enemies to lovers, smut, fluff if you squint, a lil bit of angst, humor (i tried, bear w me)

WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, explicit smut, language, sub/dom (more like switch*) dynamics, sexual tension, dubcon, unprotected sex, haechan monster cock agenda idc idc, creampie, fingering, oral (f/m receiving), nipple play, dirty talk, pet names, begging kink, praise and degradation kinks, impact play, breath play, overstimulation (f/m receiving, but, hyuck's receiving more lets pretend ur surprised), dacryphilia, squirting, haechan is mean n down bad at the same time. Minors do not interact.

SUMMARY: Lee Donghyuck saw you while you were on your working hours, with a pretty frown on your face, and decided to shoot his shot disturbing the peace of your mind. But one thing was sure: he found something to sink his teeth into, and you were on the same page as him.

WORDS COUNT: 11.7k

PLAYLIST/SONG: Bad - Michael Jackson

[author's note is at the end!]

"We're closed."

"No, you're not. I still have a few more minutes left."

A thud rang through the walls: exasperated, your forehead slammed into the shelf in front of you, where various cameras and lenses were placed immaculately.

It was ten minutes before the closing of the shop, you were mentally and physically tapped out, so dealing again with people wasn't part of your plans for the evening. You were on the verge of freaking out on a daily basis, but that day was more stressful than usual, 'cause there would be a big event in the city, hence you had to serve a crew who were in charge of filming the occasion. And of course, they were demanding.

"It's part of human decency not to show up at closing time." You weren't afraid to fight back, on the contrary it made you feel satisfied if it were a debate you could easily win.

"And I don't care. I just need a new battery for my camera, then I'll head out." The man did in fact not care, 'cause before you could blink he was right in front of your very eyes, in all his height, staring down at you. He must have figured out where your voice came from.

It wasn't his fault, he forgot to check the battery status of his camera as time passed, in consequence it burned right after he took the last picture he needed. But you didn't need to know that, you weren't his friend and it's not like he was that keen on explaining himself, especially to strangers. So he kept staring with his unflinching gaze waiting for you to finally move and get him what he wanted. In which he was, obviously, pleased; it was part of your job, you could not fail in your duties even if you didn't like the attitude of a customer.

And you didn't like at all the man's behavior, your left eye was trembling with anger.

Not saying a single word though, you retraced your steps, directed to the section where you could find the cameras' batteries, and picked some of them, not sure which camera he had.

You went back to the cashier's desk, expecting to find the guy already there, if he was a little bit perceptive. You found out that he was in fact, perceptive. If your best friends were there, you would've asked them if they could slap the living shit out of you, 'cause there was no way you actually thought so low of a stranger, you weren't usually like this.

"Just pick the one you need and then please, go away." Your voice sounded exasperated while watching him picking the right battery, so he said nothing, at least he seemed to have understood you were really tired and not able to deal with him. A small 'thank god' resonated in your head while you were putting his things in your shop's bag, and handed it to him, with a circumstantial smile plastered on your face.

"That's what I said earlier after all, Miss.Happiness. And nice bump over there, on your forehead." A wink before he could vanish after the sliding doors. You were wrong, and he was already gone.

Again, you slammed your head on the countertop.

"I'm telling you 'Ning, he walked in like he was the owner of my shop. Pretentious and everything, you know how I hate that shit." Out of breath, you kept walking down the street, right where the event would be held.

It was your day off of the week, this is why you were strolling around, with one of your best friends on a call, and also 'cause this was one of the roads that led faster to your house.

"But I swear to god herself, I was this close to pulling out his vertebrae one by one, and use them to play fucking hockey in my fucking backyard." The tone of your voice went from angry to calmer than two seconds before, 'cause maybe now, you were too distracted by your surroundings.

Several teams were working fast in front of your figure: there were those who were setting up the stage, others the street, which was decorated with various electric cables covering the asphalt, and the trees were decorated too with small lights and colored ribbons. Videocameras were placed on both sides of the stage and in front of it, for different perspectives. So many led spotlights for distinct purposes.

Everything about that deeply fascinated you.

"He was also pretty. Don't pry, this is why I refrained myself 'Ning." Your distraction made you lose the control of the tongue. And even your thoughts. 'Cause yes, he was indeed a good-looking man: the way his black hair fell on his forehead, right on top of his piercing dark eyes too, caught the air in your throat, and it made you to freeze on the spot without a single thought in that head of yours the day before.

Not to mention his deep voice and his tanned skin, the latter got you the urge to trace every inch of it with your own hands, if not lips. You didn't know yet, but if there was one thing you surely knew, it was that his eyes were exactly on you. In that exact moment.

The necessity to disappear in a split second far exceeded any other desire you ever had, but it didn't seem like it was too much to ask, because soon enough an electric cable got in your way, causing you to fall down and make out with the road. Maybe you should have done what was written on the ban sign, which was not to get too close.

You even saw him moving from his position to approach you.

"I'm fucked." Groaning in pain you quickly stood up, fixing your now dirty clothes. You heard Ningning saying a 'you wish, bestie', before you could close the call.

How outrageous.

"Was the asphalt telling you a secret or what?"

"Okay, first of all I saw money on the ground and I wanted to pick them up. Second of all, fuck you, you basketball hoop." A finger pointed at his chest.

It did feel good going for his throat now that you didn't have to be professional for your job.

"This explains for sure why you panicked when I noticed you. Did I, perhaps, make you flatter, pretty girl?" He smirked while crossing his long legs to lean against the barrier behind him.

You surprisingly took your sweet time to let your gaze embrace his full body in the meantime he was talking, understanding what he was actually saying, but you decided to briefly ignore him.

It wasn't your fault if he was dressing prettily, the black skinny jeans were literally hugging his long legs, enhanced by the suede boots he was wearing, and the white shirt was doing god's work. You shook your head and took a few steps away from where he was standing in all of his glory.

"Are you Ryan Reynolds?" You crossed your arms to your chest.

"Damn, I wish."

"Keanu Reeves?" You tried again looking him deadly in the eyes.

"Of course not?"

"Lee Dongwook?"

"...Are you slandering me?" He spread his arms exasperated.

"Then watch your mouth, nameless boy, I know the game you're on." You grimaced.

"Donghyuck. And believe it or not, you know nothing, doll."

He was no fun.

It was as if an iceberg suddenly had taken his place; his glacier tone remained in your mind for a while, and you kept following him with your eyes until he returned to his previous spot, now with his camera's lace around his nape.

You couldn't lie, he was sexy as fuck, but you truly couldn't understand what was that. You guys had just a little to a nonexistent conversation in these two days, and it was mostly insults and cold comebacks, so you didn't understand why he was trying to hit on you. It wasn't like you weren't attractive enough, indeed quite the opposite, but guys like that were known as troublemakers, and you'd rather be a snippy bitch than to get hurt for this kind of game.

Sighing, you decided it was time to go home and rest before it was too late, the next day would still be a working day for you.

You only hoped these three weeks would pass quickly, 'cause it was bright as the sun that you had to see Donghyuck every day.

Donghyuck. You tasted the name on your tongue. That motherfucker had a pretty name too.

Ningning were on your left, Yeri on your right, and Chenle and Renjun were walking in front of you. According to Chenle, staying on the same line as Ningning would lead them into a fight. You'd swear they'd get together sometime soon, they were just momentarily blind.

You and your friends were coming back from the shopping centre, now heading to your house for a sleepover, so walking down that street was necessary if y'all didn't want to add another ten minutes to your little trip.

"Please guys, act normal, we're getting close to where he works for the event." Days prior you ended up freaking out in your best friends group chat about Donghyuck, telling them how confusing and unnerving he was, 'cause in one moment he was flirty, and in the next one he was cold as a mint popsicle forgotten in the freezer for years. Let alone his look, they had to put up with you 'cause you couldn't stop drooling all over him. So they insisted on seeing him.

"You're talking like we can embarrass you, come one now, Y/n." Chenle gave you a side eye before he could turn around again as you watched him in disbelief.

"Renjun? Chenle?" A distant high-pitched voice called the names of your friends. Confused you all turned towards the direction of it, and you almost gasped audibly.

"Yo, Haechan!" The three of them exchanged a nod of acknowledge, followed by a handshake as if they were companions of a lifetime.

"Miss. Happiness. Do you still have the money you found on the floor last time?"

You mouthed him a 'fuck you, giraffe.' and he fucking smirked at you for the second time in these last days, then he greeted the girls as if it was nothing and returned to the boys for a chitchat.

"And now what the fuck he means by Haechan?!" You whispered in panic to Yeri and Ningning, while the both of them just laughed and shrugged you off. Of course they couldn't know.

A few moments later, they finished their gossiping and Renjun and Chenle returned to where you girls where standing waiting for them, luckily it was late afternoon so you didn't have to wait under the scorching sun in the middle of the summer.

Donghyuck seemed to get you were a close friend of his two best friends, so he actually got convinced and before he could get back to his work, he explained to y'all how he ended up working in such place: two of his other buddies, Johnny and Kun you recalled, were searching for some help for the event they were working for, and he happened to be good with the camera, so he accepted the offer also because he wouldn't mind working with his friends.

A stark contrast from what he seemed to be. You really didn't know anything about him, and you knew it was wrong to judge a book by its cover, so maybe you should given him a pass and had fun without overthinking things too much. In the end it shouldn't have been anything too serious.

"Don't tell me he's the Donghyuck you told us.. and what kind of money was he talking about?" Renjun just let his eyes come out of his sockets as he bumped into you with his shoulder. You groaned like you were in actual pain, not wanting to remember any part of that.

"I fell in front of his eyes a week and a half ago, and at that time I just came up with a lame excuse, saying I didn't fall but found money on the ground, instead." You whined while looking at your feet kicking a tiny pebble. "Don't ask me anything else, this is awkward enough." A loud laugh and various 'always the same' 'you're so clumsy' and a 'so gawky' emerged from the small circle of your friends, and they were on a thin ice 'cause you almost smacked every one of them.

"I can't believe he actually gave you his government name. He won't even let us call him like that."

"Renjun's right, i think he's hitting on you for real, Y/n."

"Yeah, okay, but I don't understand why he's doing this?" You gawked at the boys in front of you like they had two heads each and their body was united together, but again, no answer as they shrugged you off before entering your home and make themselves comfortable.

You guys were dispersed around your living room, now chugging on your beers while debating on which game to play or what movie to watch together.

"If Y/n wins at rock paper scissors, we'll watch again John Wick with her, if only one of the three of us wins instead, Y/n's gonna try to give Haechan a chance and be friend with him." You scoffed at Renjun. And to say you thought he was the only one on your side.

Un-fucking-believable.

Your competitive spirit kicked in, and at their signal you threw your choice. Scissors. You cheered on your victory swinging your fists in the air while your feet were stamping on the carpet. Yeri just threw paper, Ningning scissors too, and Renjun the same as Yeri.

One moment.

Your cheerings came to a stop, and Chenle gave you a sympathetic look.

"I lost, didn't I?" Emotionless voice, as you couldn't believe what you saw.

"Yeah."

"...We can still watch John Wick together, Y/n." Your wails were the only sound echoing in the room, as you sat down on your couch already searching for your favorite movie on your streaming platforms.

Would have been the fucking bare minimum, assholes.

"Chenle, I'll take Daegal out every day for a month." You prayed him with your eyes from your spot in the middle of the movie.

"Not happening."

"I'll do the chores at yours for the rest of the summer."

"Appealing."

"So it's a yes?" Your voice was exuding hope.

"No dice."

Goddamit.

Another week passed.

You were taking easy the whole Donghyuck-Haechan situation, and though it may seem strange, you were trying to be more loose around him. Starting by smiling and waving in his direction, or making small conversations when you had to go through the street where he was working, he noticed that, and seemed to admire it, since he always greeted you back, and from time to time he too took the initiative, which you treasured heartily.

One day he even unexpectedly came to your shop to give you coffee, making you at a loss for words. No one had ever done such a thing for you, and the coffee was just perfect to say the least.

"I just tried to guess what your favorite coffee was, so I went to the cafeteria down the road earlier, and bought you one." He would've said smiling at you. Not a smirk, or a lipped smile. A full smile. And his smile was so- it made the air inside your lungs dissipate, basically.

Aside from that, you actually spent willingly the rest of that morning with him in your store concentrate on the different cameras and their lenses. He was so endearing wrapped up with the things you loved too.

God, what the hell was that.

You soon found out that he was undoubtedly an amusing, witty and smart person. Quite the opposite of the façade he put on when you first met, the sleazy flirt was still there, but the cold surface was starting to melt down, if not it was already melted completely.

Donghyuck didn't know either why he wanted to mess up with you that bad, it was like his gut feeling told him to do so in the exact moment he saw you roaming with that cute frown on your delicate face around your store, so he went for it. In simple terms, that philosophy was his ride or die, he just did not expect you to act in the same way as him. The way you fought back that day made a strike in his mind, and jokes on you if you thought that Donghyuck would have let you go.

After he bought you the first coffee that day, he kept doing this everyday, and he made sure to buy a coffee for himself so he could drink it next to you in your store, and if it wasn't the coffee in the morning, it was a packed lunch in his break from work. The boy always asked you how was going your day and if you needed anything.

Eventually you ended up opening a little and telling him more about yourself, like how you as the owner of your store was the result of your passion for photography, except you couldn't use a camera, and he genuinely laughed at that revelation, finding you adorable and telling you in exchange how he made photography one of his hobby and sometime, his job too.

It went like this, it was as if you two had made a pact: you told him a fact about yourself, and he in return told you something of himself. His persistence was what you got convinced that giving in wouldn't hurt no one, and also 'cause his presence started not to be so bad as in the beginning.

Fucking Renjun.

And this is exactly how you got at the event that day. In the long run everything was ready for the occasion, so the day the show would go on the air had arrived, and you were close to being ready to go.

Yeri and Ningning came to your house early that afternoon, they said they would get ready with you, so there you were, sitting on the floor of your room while putting some make up on, mascara and lip tint were generally your pieces de resistance, so you opted for them for the night not wanting to exaggerate.

Ningning was roaming enthusiastically in your closet 'cause based on what she said your outfit should have made an impression on everyone, to whom you raised a brow.

"I'm definitely not wearing that." This time both of your brows was raised to the roof, scowling at her for good measure.

"'Ning it's a music show, not a pool party, that skimpy dress looks like a fucking bikini." Yeri deadpanned frowning and you almost launched at her and kissed her on her pretty full lips. Maybe you should've done it.

"Can we make out?" Your eyes were glowing like a light stick while looking at her, but soon your vision went black.

Was that a pillow? Your pillow bed?!

"No."

What was the meaning of your life if you couldn't even kiss your best friends? That was the most atrocious thing in the whole world.

Sooner or later the three of you got dressed in time, settling on for just summer dresses 'cause you all realized it was still hot even though it was nighttime, and the lightweight fabric in contact with the evening breeze, was doing wonders on your skin while walking down the streets, slowly reaching the set up venue.

You all stopped at a stand, fortunately on your way, to get a drink and you didn't know why, but you were in the mood for a piña colada, so you settle on it for the night. Yeri, Ningning and you, once arrived, perfectly found a spot where you would've had a good view of the stage but at the same time not being in the middle of the crowd, y'all didn't want to sweat.

There was a good atmosphere, for someone who had only seen the preview, there was to say that everybody had done a good job with the location, and as a matter of fact, a few photographers were around you to capture the foremost moments.

Hoping to go unnoticed by your two friends, you searched for Donghyuck knowing that he was there to work, and even just seeing him for an instant would have been enough for the rest of the festival.

Little did you know.

After a while you indeed spotted him, you supposed he was taking a rest in the staff's section and he too was sipping on his drink while chatting with his colleagues; as might as expected the piña colada didn't affected you that much, your blood alcohol level was nonexistent, but you still felt the sudden desire to go and greet him and let him know that you were there too.

"Girls, I'm just gonna say 'hi' to Donghyuck," you shouted over the music and the crowd loud noise, pointing a finger behind you in Donghyuck's direction, "I'll be back soon!"

They gave you a thumbs up and vanished in turn into the throng, leading to who knows where. You eventually updated the girls on your start of friendship with him, and they were strangely happy about that, Renjun and Chenle instead, limited themselves to wink and smirk at you, patting your shoulder in the end.

You reached the brunette guy over where he was standing with a cup of alcohol in his hand, and poked his left side with your index, definitely surprising him. Donghyuck always thought you were actually an introvert and didn't like these kind of places, but seeing you there with a drink in your hand and a silly smile on your face, took him off guard, but he greeted you back and returned your smile, kissing the back of your free hand too.

What a gentleman.

"How's going your night, Hyuck?" You grinned as you took a sip of your drink while looking at him up and down, he looked good that night, even with a slight layer of sweat on his forehead. You caught sight of the dampness also on his neck and on the portion of his tonic chest left uncovered by the unbuttoned shirt, but afraid that he could've realize what you were doing, you quickly looked away, and 'cause you did not want that view to distract you again too.

"Actually, I think it's going much better now, you know?" Donghyuck found endearing your grin and he smirked at you sizing you up, finding you extremely cute for his own sake. "Who are you trying to impress? Me, perhaps? 'Cause it's working, doll." He took advantage of the loud music to get close and hear you better, so close that he could count your upper and bottom lashes, and you could see his dark irises being illuminated by the spotlights, and able to feel his sweet breath gently hitting the lower part of your face. Your body tingled at the sensation, but suffice it to say, you didn't mind at all.

"I thought you got tired of flirting for nothing? Be easy on yourself, Hyuck." You scoffed and purposefully rolled your eyes at him, trying to hide the amused smile by taking a second sip of your piña colada.

You guessed you were starting to get again under his skin with your bitter remarks, but honestly? It was too fun. Plus, he didn't give weight to it 'cause in those three weeks he pretty much figured out that your character were calling for someone who would match it, someone with the same fiery energy, and he knew that people who didn't respond cheekily to a person like you, could be a big turn off. You were just like him. That's why he always had a ready answer for you. He wanted to let you know that he could be a good candidate for you, but you were- oh so hard to read.

He wouldn't give up on you though, if he was knew for something, apart from being the epitome of ENTP, it was surely for his determination.

You'd be his at the end of this circus.

"I may go easy on myself, but I for sure won't go easy on you, baby girl." He winked while pointing at you.

Was he recreating Rihanna's meme?

"Donghyuck." Your voice was stern while you were trying so bad to keep a straight face.

"Too cheesy and cringe?" He asked flatly, and you simply nodded.

"Noted." And he clicked his tongue.

When all was said and done, he searched for a couple of chairs for you and him; it was an event were the public could watch standing, so there weren't many chairs out there, but luckily he managed to find one there in the staff's wing and he offered it to you.

"You're working Hyuck, you're definitely more tired than me." Shaking your head you declined his offer, gesturing him towards the said chair, but he instead poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue closing his eyes for a brief moment and opening them again to look at you poker-faced.

If you didn't know any better, you were actually this close to suck him fucking dry, you cleared your throat to distract yourself, in panic you tried to compromise, "Okay! Okay what if- what if you sit, and I sit on your lap?" You looked at him tentatively, and he simply snickered, sitting down on the chair and manspreading.

Juicy thighs on full display.

Someone up there must have hated you to her content. At that sight, you started praying in every language you knew.

"C'mere, my sweetheart, I don't bite. Or I do bite, if you prefer." He patted his covered thighs with his slender hands waiting for you to sit on him, and gaining a little more of boldness, you confidently sat sideways on his lap. You grimaced snorting loudly at his comment, taking another sip of your piña colada, realizing you almost drank it all.

"Will you ever actually stop?" You weren't annoyed by his words, actually his way of sweet-talking to you was what you got all wound up.

You realized that the night was taking a turn from the moment he placed his free hand on the small of your back. You quivered under his dark gaze feeling even smaller than you already were near him, while goosebumps were starting to be visible on your arms caused by his slight touch.

Nonetheless, you were capable of feeling his warmth through the fabric of the dress. He placed his camera on a tiny counter for the occasion near him, where lenses cameras and lights were scattered around, and before he could do anything you heard him whispering seriously this time:

"Your own eyes are betraying you, Y/n. Stop making a fight, your talk is cheap." Thank god you were sitting on him, otherwise you wouldn't have heard his deep voice. He simply responded flatly before he could set one hand on your jaw, lightly squeezing your cheeks together so to make your lips pout, your heart and stomach dropped, making you breath heavily, not to mention the literal feeling of your face growing red at such a simple touch and a few words certainly said with no care.

How embarrassing of you.

And things got worse when you felt him leaning in, capturing your lips with his.

You physically felt your breath get stuck in your throat, fingers fidgeting not knowing where to put the hand without the drink in, deciding to just put it on the base of his neck, intertwining your fingers with his short but still long enough hair on his nape.

He deepened the kiss by angling his head to the side, brushing your bottom lip with his tongue only for him to part your mouth with the latter and settle within your soft lips, tasting in the meantime the flavor of each other's drink you were previously drinking. You pulled away reluctantly, you feared that kiss took you to the moon in the true sense of the word 'cause your lungs were begging for a breath of air, but you knew it was an exaggeration and it was your mind's fault for your body to react like that to him.

And did he say your name or was your brain tipping over the edge?

"How did you know-" You said out of breath biting your bottom lip, in hope to taste him again.

"Your best boy friends can't keep their mouths shut. Blame them, pretty." He said in amusement. One of his hand was now caressing your bare thigh, where the edge of the dress did not reach, as if you didn't have enough chills along your spine.

You promised yourself to have a tiny little talk with both of them later.

Now you were just pondering whether or not to kiss him taking the initiative, but before you could answer you found that your lips were on his again, kissing him fervently, with your other hand clutching his shirt, to get even closer to him than before.

You started to feel heady again and the sudden awareness of the ache between your legs started to kick in. The only way to find relief in that moment was to clench your thighs together, hoping to go unnoticed, but that idea went out of the imaginary window in your head as you felt him nudging at the back of your right thigh.

The hand previously on your skin, went up on your ass, kneading it shamelessly for everyone to see, and you almost leaked through your panties at the mere thought of doing the deed in public, but the need to have him laying under you on your comfy mattress got the best of you.

"Hyuck-" you breathed out on his lips, parting slightly from him, watching him with your pleading eyes, silently saying to do something.

"I know baby, I know. Show me the way." Hearing your breathy and delicate voice saying his name like that got him weak in the knees. He didn't think twice before caving in, so he literally followed you like a lost puppy while you were dragging him down the road to your house, trying to be as discreet as possible.

Technically, he was still on his working hours, but practically he didn't give a damn.

You let him in, and without any hesitation and zero effort you were pressed against your door with your legs wrapped around his waist.

What did he need that small waist for? For another people to grab it? Whore.

Well, in that case you were circling it with your legs, but you certainly wouldn't have wasted the opportunity to grab it with your hands thereafter.

You apparently weren't the only thing pressed, 'cause you felt him again against your core this time, and the pressure just felt amazing, but it wasn't enough.

You parted from his swollen-kissed lips to say that your bedroom was down the hallway to your left, he nodded in response and began to make his way through your house with you still anchored in his arms.

You didn't waste your time, and in a matter of fact your plump lips were leaving lazy kisses along the line of his sharp jaw, leading to his soft spot under his right ear, and ending your journey on his collarbones, gently biting his sun kissed skin every now and then, feeling his breath cut off in his throat and gasping under his nonexistent breath when your teeth were sinking into his flash, making you grinning devilishly. Pointless to say you were determined to hear more sound like those coming from him.

He kicked open your room's door with one of his foot, not caring to close it shut 'cause he looked like he understood you lived alone, and no one could have unintentionally disturbed or interrupted you.

Surely a gift sent from god herself.

Donghyuck threw you without grace on your bed, making himself at home between your now parted legs, the consequence of being sprawled on your sheets was that your summer dress collected around the curves of your hips and the straps of your dress were no longer on your shoulders, but hanged loosely on your arms, leaving you in a vulnerable state right in front of his eyes, not being totally covered. It wasn't uncomfortable though, to tell the truth you even spread more your legs wanting him to be comfortable, wanting his eyes fixated on you, and it was not long in coming.

He felt his cock being restricted in his jeans, and by that you were able to see its outline and you could witness it was massive, to say the least. You gulped down the saliva that had formed on the back of your throat, asking yourself if it was even going to fit, deciding that the pain would have been worth it.

You curled your index in his pearl necklace bringing him down with you so you could reconnect both of your lips and make your tongues dance together, all while his hands were working frenetically trying to take your dress off.

He completed his quest the moment the latter went over your head, tossing it somewhere on the ground, making him stop above you and looking down at you with stars in his eyes, as if he had never seen anything more beautiful than you under him. 'Cause yes, he did think multiple times about how you could have looked without your clothes, he couldn't lie, but he would never have imagined such a view.

"Good fucking lord, you're so beautiful even like this." He stayed still staring at you for a little more, just to take in your appearance and memorize you in his mind, he then descended on you so he could have kissed languidly your neck and alternately leaving little hickeys behind his wet trail until he reached the valley of your breast, blueish and reddish spots rose on your skin making a little work of art to only you and the man all over you to see.

"I bet you'll be even prettier with my head between your legs and your pussy stuffed with my fingers." And the fact that you weren't wearing a bra? Fucking out of your mind, 'cause that sent Donghyuck head over heels for you. You were so wild, just like him.

And his cock were throbbing in his now tight jeans, but we don't talk about it now, he was already in pain enough. You squeaked at his implication, your body already trembling in anticipation. Still too intoxicated with only his close presence you didn't know if you were sober enough to receive more, but whether you were ready or not that was your fate for the night.

Not that you complained.

He kept faith to his words and before you could register what he said in your mind, his face were at the same level as your pelvis. The tip of his nose traced the edge of your panties, going painfully slow down to your slit, pressing for a moment his button nose on your clit under the light fabric, making you stutter his name under your breath.

You felt him grinning against the most sensitive part of your body, and not a second later he flattened his tongue on your lower lips, going slowly down towards your covered entrance, dipping in slightly for him to feel your arousal leaking through your panties. You were heavily breathing at that point, waiting anxiously for his next move, which immediately arrived.

Donghyuck wasn't exactly a patient person, so the said next move was him removing your panties with his teeth, slowly dragging them all down your legs and throwing them away on the floor to keep company to your dress that were laying there. His large hands found their place on your parted thighs now with your centre exposed, and he fucking whined at the sight of your glistening folds.

"Do something, Hyuck, please." You tried to wiggle under his firm touch, but he squeezed the flash of your thighs, making you whimpering loudly. His lips formed an 'O' when he caught your hole clenching around nothing while you whined.

"So, here I have a fucking greedy pain slut." He mumbled, and with that he dipped his head between your shaking legs. "Dear lord, you're so pretty even down here, how's that possible." You know he was talking to himself, but you couldn't stop the heat rising up to your face, and just wailed out lowly, throwing your head back on your pillows. You didn't complain, you were eager to feel him on you, and when he actually attached his lips to your core, you completely lost your mind. He trailed roughly in the middle of your puffy lips with his wet muscle, going forth to the entrance and back to your neglected clit, sucking firstly and hard on the little ball of nerves, and then on both of your lips.

"You taste so sweet, so, so sweet." At that your hands flew to his hair, gripping onto them for dear life while your moans reverberated off the walls, you heard him whimpering again, the vibrations clashing against your centre made you gasp and brought him even closer while your thighs clamped around his head, putting him in a headlock position. You'd swear you even saw him fucking grinding on the covered mattress at your action.

He was eating your pussy like a starved man.

"It seems that-" a gasp escaped you, making you arching your back off the bed, interrupting your speech, "I'm not the only pain slut here-" your mouth fell agape feeling Donghyuck easing his tongue past your entrance. You were starting to get addicted to his mouth, at that point. He stopped at your sensitive bud, lapping at it and sucking it in his mouth, in a repeated move, putting in the middle languid kisses that went straight to your core, and as if it weren't enough he pushed two of his fingers into your drenched pussy, his knuckles almost disappeared when he went all the way up to your g-spot.

Always straight to the point.

"You saw nothing, just concentrate on my mouth and my fingers, babe." You thanked god you didn't have roommates, 'cause his name moaned, whimpered, and whined, was the only thing you could hear all over your house.

The tension in your stomach started to build nearly immediately, as you were writhing under him, he was just good at that shit and you guys were only at the beginning of the foreplay.

"Haechan-" just slipped out of your mouth, and a harsh slap came in contact with your bare ass, leaving the red and the 3D print of his hand on it.

"Call me like that again, and I'll stop." And fuck, you did not want that to happen at all, damn you were already thinking about the second round-

"Shit- no, I swear I'm sorry, you feel too good, so good- Please Hyuck, I'm sorry just don't stop-" you were embarrassingly babbling, on the verge of literally sobbing because of the near first exploding climax of the night. You knew he was showing you pity as he returned to his actions, not before giving you a warning look, and you bit your lip while looking at him with your already fucked out gaze, hands still gripping hard his hair.

Independent woman my ass.

"Cmon Y/n, don't run from me, I can feel you squeezing my fingers, I know you wanna cum," He kept pushing in and out his slender fingers at a quick peace, making you gasping shakily whenever he curled his fingers upwards your spongy walls. "You can do it pretty girl. Go ahead, make a mess on my fingers." That was your last straw.

You cried out while squirming and twisting when the knot in your stomach snapped. And as you were calming down it felt like you were combusting on your spot, laying lifeless on your sheets trying to give your lungs the oxygen they lost along the way. If he gave you this mind blowing orgasm as your first, you didn't want to imagine how the upcoming ones would be. You were thrilled.

Donghyuck's next target was clearly your cleavage, he didn't say it out loud, but his eyes spoke for him, you could see the eagerness they were holding by simply looking at your chest covered by goosebumps while you were still breathing deeply through your nostrils. In his eyes you were mouth-watering just lying on your blankets in that already fucked out state.

But he had to wait because much to his surprise you were pretty fast at recovering from foreplay, and in just a couple of minutes you were face-to-face to him, in the same position as him on your knees, now wanting to have your fun with him. After all, he as well, deserved his part.

"I think we're playing an unfair game here, don't you think, Hyuck?" Dismissively you pointed the nail of your index finger on his chest, letting it slide down his torso, pressing gently against his shirt.

"What do you mean by 'unfair'?" Voice slightly strained as he was busy following your lips with his gaze.

"I mean that your clothes are still on, but mines are on the ground, don't you find it unequal?" You pouted while looking at him with your doe eyes, trying to be as persuasive as possible.

"Yes, I think you're more than right, actually." His words couldn't come out of his mouth faster than that, and you snickered in amusement at him. He were already so vulnerable, for fuck's sake.

"So, if I do this," you proceeded to unbutton the rest of his shirt, sliding it down past his shoulders and his wrists, "you don't mind, mh?" Your voice was sugary.

"Do as you please, I'm down with everything," he whispered on your mouth while you still were at his height on the bed, "just, don't tease."

You chuckled at him while you hooped a finger into his waistband bringing him closer, clashing your noses, "You better stick to your words. If you're fine with whatever, just sit back and enjoy your time."

What were you, the voice ad who tells you to enjoy your time watching the movie at the cinema? What the fuck Y/n.

You shrugged off your own ridiculous thoughts, and done that, you placed both of your hands on his firm pecs, not too muscular, not too scrawny, just to die for. Of course, for your standards. Hands started to drop down his torso, brushing and flicking on his nipples in the way, making him hiss, and he even tried to capture your wrists in his hands to stop you, but you gave him in return a dour look, so he stopped mid-air quickly mumbling an 'I'm sorry', and you pecked his lips as a reward.

You kept on pecking him, but each time you changed directions of your lips, moving slowly to the corner of his mouth, to his jaw, along the side of his neck, to his bony collarbones, and then down his abs, peppering his soft flesh with small kisses, and with kitten-licks in between. This, while your hands were still caressing him, coming down with you as you moved.

You eventually and finally reached his pants, not halting your movements and simply taking off his belt, absentmindedly placing it there on the bed, while his pants were quick to reach the pile of your clothes on the floor. You set down on your elbows, now facing his cock still restrained, and that's where you heard Donghyuck's breath getting heavy, but you plainly smirked up at him aware of your next moves.

You actually didn't waste your time and pulled down his boxers in one move, which took him off guard, making you chuckling. His member slapped proudly against his lower stomach, it reached his navel and you almost salivated at the only sight.

"Oh god, Hyuck you're so big-" you muttered under your breath and with that you simply wrapped your hands at its base, wanting first to slowly stroke him, tasting the waters. "I'm gonna deep-throat you-" you said without even thinking about the fact that he was literally so big that he would have split your throat in a half, probably because, in fact, you didn't care at all about that particular.

He choked on his saliva, placing one hand in your hair trying, but not trying at the same time, to stop you, "What- wait, I mean yes- oh my god, just-"

You shushed him by licking his leaking tip, going down the length of his shaft and reaching his balls, then you went back at the tip, and wrapping your lips around it your head started to bob up and down with a slow steady rhythm.

You heard him cursing in a soft tone, while his grip on your hair thighed, and you hummed contentedly at the slight pain on your scalp. At your hum you felt him twitching in your mouth, so you hollowed your cheeks around him and went all the way down his length, feeling him in the very back of your throat. Your gag reflexes were irritating you, but you fought them back and as a result tears started to form in your waterlines, feeling them at the corner of your eyes and down your cheeks afterwards.

He cooed at you, snickering proudly while your hands were squeezing his thighs for support, "Am I, perhaps, too big for my baby? Should I pull out?" You shook fast your head in a 'no' motion, looking up at him with your wet eyes, wanting to demonstrate to him that you could do it, that you wanted to do it at every cost.

And so he brought you closer with his hands on the back of your head, your nose was now touching his happy trail, and with his massive cock now buried in your throat, even if you were trying so hard to breath through your nose, you were never been happier than that.

"Fuck- you're so warm, stay still for a moment." he grunted while exposing his veiny neck, you started to feel like you were about to faint due to lack of air, but nonetheless, you felt again the stickiness between your legs.

He eventually released you, and you were able to breathe again, briefly gasping for oxygen waiting for your lungs to be full again, and as a matter of fact you were back to sucking him dry.

You hollowed again your cheeks around his shaft while your tongue were flat on the underside of his length, this time stopping bobbing your head where you were the most comfortable, repeating your motions until you saw his stomach contracting and him almost curling on you, while gasping for air, and you understood he was close to his climax. So you brought your hand to his balls, massaging firstly them together and then separately, and apparently that was his last straw, 'cause before he could warn you he was already releasing himself down your throat.

You peered at him through your wet lashes and noted he had his eyes screwed shut and his mouth wide opened, his cock still throbbing in your mouth, so you waited for him to come down on heart before you could pull off of him with a loud and wet pop, swallowing everything he gave you.

"I actually hate you." He said still breathing heavily, fixing you hair in the meantime.

"No, you actually don't." You grinned ear to ear and went up at his height again, throwing your arms around his neck while licking your lips, tasting again his release.

"How was it?" He asked you smugly.

"How was it what-"

"My cum."

"Donghyuck!" You yelled exasperate, putting your face in the crook of his neck.

"I'm kidding!" He kissed tenderly your exposed temple.

Your cheeks were burning at his action, but you were quick to change your positions so he couldn't see that. You pushed at his shoulders, making him to fall back on your blankets, head on your pillows, and bed eyes looking up at you, watching you attentively.

"I know you're not, you horny fucker." You straddled his lap, hands on his lower abs, and now with both of your legs on both of his sides, you just sat back, feeling his cock under the curve of your ass. And that made you smirk devilishly, 'cause it made you realize you were right on top of him, "Screw that, I'm the fucker apparently."

He raised an eyebrow at you, "Idea is not acceptable."

You raised back an eyebrow at him, "Idea is very acceptable," you wiggled your ass on his already growing erection, "Go tell your dick."

Grinding his teeth in annoyance he felt indeed his cock twitching under you, "You're being incorrect, princess and the pea."

You rolled your eyes at him, "You could have stopped at the 'princess', thank you very much."

"Stop being a brat and fuck me, you need an invite or?" He crossed his arms behind his head watching you with a defiant smile.

"How the tables have turned." You scowled at him, your hand reached down in between your bodies lifting yours up, to place the said hand on the base of his length, lining the tip at your entrance.

"Yeah, and I'll turn 'em again later."

You ignored his snark remark, even though his words were echoing in your brain like a nursery rhyme, and you just eased down onto him, letting him fill you up to the brim. You winced at the stretch, both his length and girth were ripping you apart, but you didn't complain at all.

"Fucking hell. I can fucking feel you in my stomach." You said with a faint voice, proceeding to moan rolling your head back, staying still for a moment, adjusting to his size.

You slightly lifted your ass up, leaving only the tip inside, still feeling full, just to smack it loudly against his tonic thighs trying to remain as quiet as you could 'cause you wanted to hear him, even if you wanted to scream out loud thanks to him who was reaching places you didn't know existed, causing you to violently clench around him and repeat your moves.

"Shit- Y/n you're so greedy and for what," as if he didn't know. He grunted, gripping your hips so forcefully you feared he would find the pieces of your flesh in his hands, but that pain only wounded you up even more, in fact, you felt yourself dripping into his shaft, the wetness helping your movements to get more smooth, and that made him hiss through his teeth, closing shut his eyes while whimpering.

Greedy for you, dickhead. You truly wanted to reply, "Your brobdingnagian dick makes me greedy, Hyuck." You opted instead, moaning shakily when he accidentally met up with your hips while you were going down.

"Never say that again." He tried to keep a straight face, but he soon realized that it was like boiling the ocean. Impossible.

After he closed his mouth, well, opened his mouth, to stop talking and letting out his moans mixed with his whimpers, you started to move off of him and on again, this time faster, making your boobs bounce up and down in a rapid motion. He was salivating at the view, and his hands were quick to make it to them, holding onto them for dear life, kneading like they were pizza dough, registering in his head that they even fitted perfectly in his hands.

He was waiting for this, to make you his, since the first time he saw you.

He was looking, trying at least, at you with so many emotions and feelings in his eyes that he couldn't even comprehend what they were exactly. Could you be more perfect than that?

Well, he figured it out that yes, you could be more perfect than that, in the exact moment you stopped bouncing on him, and started to fucking grind on him. Moans and curses words were spilling out of your mouths almost at the same time, both of you started to get louder. You felt him twitching more repeatedly than before, signaling you that he was reaching again his climax, and you were on the same wavelength if it weren't for the fact that you were restraining yourself from being only one step closer to that.

"I'm close- I'm fucking close Y/n, slow the fuck down-" A white ring of your slick around the base of his cock, now sliding down his balls and onto the mattress. He babbled out of his breath, not noticing that he was pinching your nipples between his fingers while he was holding your mounds, making your core tighten around his erection.

"And why would I do that?" You whined while your nails were digging deeply in his chest, unhurriedly sliding down his stomach and pelvis, leaving vivid red marks behind. If you were to be marked, he had to be too.

"'Cause I want- fuck- I want you to- cum first." You literally felt him trembling under you, and you tsked at him, how could he say such a thing if he was literally on his last legs? That's what he made you obsessed with him when you guys first met.

"Lightning never strikes twice," you clenched around him again, "this time, you cum first, pretty boy." and apparently it was the straw that broke the camel's back.

His legs folded under you making them crash into your back, while he was messily thrusting up into you to catch his own release. You physically felt him shooting his cum into you, filling you up as you never were in your whole life. Now it was his turn to lay lifeless under you, taking in deep breaths.

But you didn't give him much time to recover, you were still trying to reach your climax, which it was closer than you thought.

You regained your movements, grinding on him with your clit now in contact whit his pelvis, but it wasn't enough, so you brought your hand on it, and began to stroking it with your middle and ring fingers, the movement made your head fall back, resting on the knees of the guy who were stuttering under you, gripping your thighs as his life depended on them while watching you touching and getting yourself off, using him. You just were so hot in his eyes.

"Y/n-, Y/n stop, I'm gonna- gonna come again if you don't stop like," he gulped down while he whined like a baby deprived of his pacifier, "right fucking now- oh my god I'm dying, I'm dying, I'm dying-" he kept blabbering and stuttering, at that point you couldn't even understand the fuck he was saying, but you swear you saw tears at the corner of his eyes, and evidently, that was it for the both of you, 'cause he filled you up again with his load in no time while you were crying in your turn on top of him, this orgasm hitting you harder than the first one that had you almost sobbing.

You clashed down on him, with your damped skins in contact, and usually it would disgust you, but this time you noticed it actually didn't bother you at all while Donghyuck was caressing your back. You stayed cuddled like that for a while, just the right amount of time to regain control of your lungs.

"Well, that was a long ass ride." You chuckled breathlessly, playing with his necklace.

"You fucking overstimulated me." He pinched your side, making you yelp and you tried to run from his fingers, but to no avails, 'cause he was caging you with his legs so much stronger than yours.

"What can I say, it's hazards of the job." You said nonchalantly while looking up at him with a smirk on your face. He was glowing, and he was so pretty, dear lord.

"I'm gonna stifle you."

"Is it a threat or a promise?"

"Actually," he began calmly, connecting your mouths on a slow kiss, savoring the saltiness of your tears on both of your lips, licking your bottom one, dancing briefly with your tongue afterwards, and in the meantime both of his hands went down on your ass, kneading and taking his own time with it. He must have really liked it, and you smiled in your shared kiss. "It was a fucking promise." You forgot he had to continue his sentence, and with his radical change in his voice, everything surprised you, 'cause you really thought you were done for the night. But again, you were oh so wrong.

He suddenly flipped you on your stomach, making you land on your knees and elbows on the blankets. But he wasn't happy about it, he pushed your blades down so your chest would be pressed against the mattress, with your ass up. Again, he wasn't content and pushed down on your lumbar spine, making you arch your back and stick out your ass even more. That satisfied him.

Thank god you were an ex artistic gymnast.

"Hyuck wait- I can't do it anymore-" you gasped in fear. He was actually unpredictable, and that was one of the many proofs.

He prodded the thick head of his cock at your entrance, sliding it into you by one or two inches while chuckling fiendishly, "You can, and you will. You will be nothing but my personal cumdump, yeah?"

He shoved his length in you so hard that you jolted forwards, a hiccup already leaving your mouth, feeling stuffed like a thanksgiving turkey. He threw back his head grunting like a wild animal at the feeling of your warm and still wet, from all of his cum, walls around his dick, "I'm gonna fuck you that brattiness off of your pretty face, doll."

Breathing through his teeth he started to build up his own pace, making you jolting forwards with each of his deep thrusts. In that position you could feel him reaching your cervix, hitting your g-spot as he kept going past it every time, causing you to stutter his name numerous times as you felt again your tears rolling down your cheeks, they didn't stop like the first time, they kept flowing and your mascara was soon ruined, staining your skin under your eyes, on your cheeks, and even under your chin as they grouped together. You were a babbling mess under him while he started plunging into you at a inhuman rate, feeling weaker and more alive simultaneously at every bump of his hips against your ass.

"You- You fill me up- so well Hyuck-," your right cheek were pressed against your sheets, not even trying to look at him 'cause you had no strength, you were just mumbling nonsense every now and then, "you're so good for me." Your intent was to say that he was good to you in that moment, not that he was the person good for you in general, but you guessed your mind disagreed, 'cause you didn't even corrected yourself, not wanting to in the slightest.

He landed forcefully a palm on your asscheek, leaving again another print on it, and he kept going like this: a slap that sent you into the next century on each asscheek until you were, in the true sense of the word, sobbing like a newborn, staining your blankets under you with your tears and saliva.

He was chasing his own release at this point, again, and that sent you a shiver along your spine at the anticipation, 'cause that meant he was about to be overstimulated once more, given the fact that you were yes on the verge of literally squirting on him, but it wasn't still your time, and that made you grin like crazy.

Donghyuck noticed you smiling to yourself hoping to go unnoticed, but you failed, and that rose curiosity in him, he didn't pry, but that made him place his left hand around your throat, bringing you up towards his sweaty chest. He was putting pressure on both of the sides of it, cutting off the blood pressure and giving you the feeling of pain and pleasure caused by the dizziness in your head.

"Told you it was a promise, slut, didn't I?" He whispered to your ear, brushing it softly with his plump lips, making your nipples stiffening in pleasure. You tried to nod at his words, wanting to give him an answer, but he fucking laughed at you, nibbling at your lobe while his other hand outstretched to your neglected nip, rolling and flicking it between his thumb and index finger.

Next time he would suck on them like they were his favorite lollipops.

"Answer me properly, doll." His deep voice went straight to your core.

"Y-yes, Hyuck-" you tried to say, gasping next for a little more of air, "you- you told me."

"You're such a good girl." The pet name made you squirm in his arms, your walls clenching around him multiple times as you whined out a plea. You were right there, but he beat you to it.

"Oh fuck- I'm coming-" his pace slightly stuttered "I'm gonna fuck you full of my cum again-" and with that, he emptied himself into you, filling you up deliciously in that position. You almost felt his cock in your throat again while he was still throbbing inside you.

You wouldn't be surprised if you could see his bulge through your stomach.

"You didn't come." He stated while looking at you sternly, "but that's not a problem. Whores like you get rewarded if they behave."

You mewled at his degradation, tightening once again your pussy around his cock, making him hiss and curl up towards you, but that didn't stop him. He kept fucking you setting aside the pain mixed with pleasure he was feeling, whimpering praises and degradations in your ear. You didn't know what to do anymore, your mind was in a hazy state and he hitting your spongy spot didn't help either.

Sniffles and moans were leaving your lips again, "Hyuck- I'm-" you tried to warn him, but the knot in your belly broke again and abruptly, not giving you time to realize it was really squirt, how you supposed earlier, that came out of your body.

That, was a result of how badly he could mess up with your body and mind. And you liked that.

Your incredibly amount of slickness drenched everything around you, including you and a content him. And with that he came again, too overstimulated for his own likes, but he wouldn't have complained if he had the chance to witness that afresh.

"Do that again but on my face please."

"Next thing I'll do is kicking you in your ribs."

He mocked you high-pitching his voice, but he proceeded to pull out of you with his finally softening member, and he dragged you down so you could lay your head on your pillow right in front of him, face-to-face still soaking all wet and breathless, your bodies screaming at you for a shower and a couple of glasses of water.

He plonked his free arms around your torso, bringing you closer to him, your chests and noses now touching softly, you giggled while looking in his eye, finding him already looking at yours with a silly expression on his face, was all that sex enough to make him a different person or what, he was literally calling you a slut seconds earlier. You shook your head, still smiling like a fool, and you pecked at his lips, lingering for a little longer on his lips you were starting to love excessively.

He pecked at your lip this time, biting softly your bottom one before he pulled apart, "Cat got your tongue?" An eyebrow raised at you.

"Shut up before I pee on you." In amusement you rolled your eyes at him, while standing up, heading trembling to your bathroom.

"Actually, you already did tha-"

"Lee Donghyuck!" You screamed from outside your door with your hands in your hair, stressed (not really) again by his antics.

He made a little run to catch up with you, swiftly picking you up much to your surprise, carrying you bridal style.

"Let's take the aftercare in the shower, my love." He grinned down at you while you steadily held onto him.

Your eyes went out of your sockets, making you choke on your own saliva, "your what?!"

"Nothing!"

And your hand tugged on his hair, making him yelp out of pain.

The next morning the ringing of a phone, echoed between the walls of your room.

You were a light sleeper, that was why you heard the phone firstly, but you noticed it wasn't your ringtone, so you quickly kicked in the shin the man that was sleeping next to you in your bed.

You thanked god again, 'cause you remembered to turn the AC on before you and Donghyuck could fall asleep as soon as you came back from the shower last night. And yes, that implied that the guy was sleeping soundly anchored to you, and without the AC on, you surely would have gone to sleep in your backyard.

"Donghyuck." You grunted in a hoarse voice.

No response.

You shoved him with your leg out of your bed, letting him hitting the floor, and he cried out in pain, again.

"Your phone." You simply said to him, and with that you saw him sprinting towards his jeans lying on the floor in front of him, searching frantically for the device in his pockets with his messy hair in all the directions, making you almost laugh at him.

"Hello?" His voice was hoarse too, so he cleared his throat while rubbing his eyes to wake up at least a little bit.

"No, I- Johnny I can explain-" he said hurriedly, "actually, I can explain to you, but don't tell Kun-" it was funny watching him walking around your room in panic, trying to save his own ass with his friends, with his hirers.

"What do you mean he wants to fire me?!" He squealed with his free hand in his hair.

His dick was dangling with each of his movements, making you try to suppress your laugh in your pillow.

"But- he can't! Well no, yes- I know he can-" he wails walking in circle, "but I'm the best among all other employees even if I disappeared from work last night-" he tried to sugarcoat his friend, but it was ineffectual. The call ended, and a cute pout appeared on his face. You sweared you could've kissed it off of him under different circumstances.

"Now I am jobless." He said puffing his cheeks, throwing himself on the bed, precisely on you.

You dramatically gasped for air while patting his head, which it was on your chest, and he was looking up at you, still with that pout on his lips.

"Now all I have left is my girlfriend." Now, you were gasping for air for real, 'cause that took you off guard, but not in a negative way. You actually took a moment to think about the man on top of you: aside from the first meeting went all the way down, you indeed realized that he was the only one, not counting your best friends, that were able to take your bull by the horns. He always had something up his sleeve to make you laugh and flatter at the same time. The way he took care of you, even with small gestures, made you fall for him quickly, plus his fun and witty ass was a relief for your monotonous course of life, so maybe he would put a twist to it.

"Ask me properly Lee Donghyuck." You feigned annoyance at him, when instead, you were more than on a cloud-nine.

"Y/n," he took a moment to elaborate his thoughts, he already screwed up his job, he didn't want to screw up with you too. "Could you give me the honor of calling you my girlfriend?" With his eyes full of hope he kept staring at you, with his heart pounding in his ears. He was about to faint from the anxiety, he could feel it.

"Of course I'll be your girlfriend, you silly dumbass." You never smiled so widely in your whole life, and placing both of your palms on his cheeks, you kissed him like time didn't existed, making his ear flush both for your final response and the breathtaking kiss.

Needless to say that you guys stayed a little longer on your bed, kissing like teenagers do in high school.

"Hey," he tried to say casually after sharing the last kiss.

"Oh no."

"I was thinking-"

"Oh no." You repeated dramatically, like something catastrophic was about to happen.

"Can you not?!"

"I'm sorry, it actually surprises me that you can think," you raised your shoulder, curling his already curly hair in your fingers.

"Now I think I'm just gonna go non-verbal on you."

"I was kidding baby, go ahead," your tone softened.

"Could you hire me, perhaps?" He said with a hopeful and devilish smirk.

Again, you took a moment to think about his offer, and you in fact needed one more hand at work, 'cause you were all alone in there, and sometimes you really wished you had an employee to help you out with the stocks in the back, o simply in the store sharing your tasks with one another. And having your boyfriend working and staying with you everyday? It was like a dream came true.

"Hell, no."

You just were as bad as him.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: hi! this is actually my first fic ever, which has been on my mind for far too long, so i thought it was time to publish it. even tho i was (still am*) too insecure to do that fr, my obsession with haechan motivated me to do so ((mj's absolutely one of my favorite artists, so i couldnt help but choose one of his songs as a title for my first hyuck's fic)). Also, my mental health's at it again so i considered writing to distract myself from it at least a little bit, hope you can appreciate my efforts! Plus ik it's pretty basic-, but w time ill def get better at this! An honorable mention n a massive thank u goes to my bae @mrkis , i wouldnt be here without her. I love you a lot dude, im being ffr. Feedbacks n reblogs r highly appreciated! Hoping yall enjoyed ur reading♡.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 410: Kacchan Fights a Baby

Previously on BnHA: Kacchan was born and then he grew up and murdered the Demon Lord.

Today on BnHA: Kacchan fights a baby. Tomura and Deku finally remember that they were supposed to have been fighting too this entire time, and get on with that once again. Tomura is all, “[literally just reaches out and grabs Deku’s face because Deku’s main character powers suddenly abandoned him in a fit of confusion].” Deku is all, “[chops off Tomura’s fingers which is somehow not even in the top twenty of violent things that have happened in this series in just the last five chapters].” Tomura is all “joke’s on you I still got your quirk :D” and fuck me he actually stole Danger Sense, what the fuck.

logically I knew AFO still had to be alive somehow because he’s too big of a villain to go out that easily without a proper sendoff. but deep in my heart, I’m still secretly disappointed

it just isn’t fair, lol. this guy has died more times than Rasputin and he’s still out here scheming his schemey schemes. when oh when will it end

sir you did not just say you had yet ANOTHER unused trump card up your sleeve??

(ETA: the translation isn’t fully clear here, but I think the trump card he’s referring to is the whole “I’ll just go back inside him and join the part of me that was already in there and we’ll take over Tomura’s body again together” plan that he was trying to pull off. I think. if not though, that’s certainly something worth speculating about.)

well as always the psychology in this series is unironically fascinating! he just wants acknowledgement at the end of the day, huh. just wants some love and attention. too bad he was born in a rat-infested hellscape and learned all the wrong lessons and turned into a crazed omnipotent murderlad

also he really did turn back into a baby sdfsdlkjfl oh no. I need to see Katsuki’s reaction to this immediately

oh my lord

(●__●)

lmao this is so incredibly fucked up

ngl though, this is karma at its finest. he tortured and killed so many people trying to earn everyone’s fear and awe and reverence, only to literally blip out of existence at the end with absolutely nothing to show for it

everyone please enjoy this series of panels of a deeply vexed Bakugou Katsuki picking a fight with this slowly melting evil baby

“you think I care that you’re a baby now. you think I won’t fight a fuckin’ baby. let’s do this you little punk”

also I’m sorry but it’s absolutely ridiculous that the gigantic chest wound Tomura inflicted on him got sewed up so neatly lol. AFO’s not the only one who stubbornly refuses to die no matter what

...

just once, it would be nice if Horikoshi didn’t immediately shred my plot nitpicks to pieces mere seconds after I write them

LMAO

BABY AFO DON’T CARE. BABY AFO WILL THROW HANDS WITH ANYONE ＼(｀0´)／

KACCHAN MY BELOVED FAVE OF ALL TIME, ARE YOU REALLY ABOUT TO LOSE TO A LITERAL FUCKING INFANT

WHAT HAPPENED TO “PERFECT VICTORY” LMAO. MOVING THE GOALPOSTS EVEN AS HIS CONSCIOUSNESS FADES. “EH, CLOSE ENOUGH”

-- OH FOR THE LOVE OF --

me: wow it sure is uncharacteristic of Katsuki to just pass out before he properly wraps up this battle

Horikoshi: oh yeah good point, sure would be a shame if someone... IMMEDIATELY ADDRESSED THAT CONCERN ON THE VERY NEXT PAGE

me: ఠ_ఠ

ldskjflaksdjfkds

fdsfsdkf. “SORRY ABOUT THAT, FOR A MOMENT THERE I ALMOST FORGOT TO BEND THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE TO MY WILL”

holy fucking shit. his body was all “um, just a quick reminder that you’re HORRIBLY WOUNDED and have lost like ten gallons of blood and all of your cells are about to call an emergency meeting to shut this thing down before you get us all killed.” and he was all “WHAT WAS THAT?!” and his body was all “oh my GOD, FUCK, OKAY just forget we said anything”

and meanwhile Baby AFO is just lying there all “(◉⌓◉)”

this six-month-old child is truly and sincerely still trying to kill Kacchan while screeching death threats in high-pitched baby talk

this actually would have killed him too, if he’d succeeded in passing out. all that just to be punk’d by a damn baby

you are actually shitting me right now

at this point I’m genuinely not sure which of them has the more powerful angry toddler energy

oh no ffuffkdsfk

meeeeelting. meeeeeeltiiiiiing!!! oh what a world what a world

jesus Horikoshi I am genuinely speechless

... welp

WAIT NO WAY, REALLY?!?!

?!?!?! WAS IT ACTUALLY THAT SIMPLE THIS WHOLE TIME

-- lkjf

three times. three times in the same fucking chapter. I give up. apparently I’ll literally believe anything this man says. does it feel good, Horikoshi. preying on your readers’ hopeful naivete

yeefuckinghaw lmao

GOOD JOB KACCHAN YOU DEFEATED THE EVIL BABY

awwwww

I actually had a theory about this! well more of a wishlist item, really. I can’t remember if I’ve actually posted about it yet or not. but it’s like. you know how Deku and Kacchan are always being really dramatic about holding hands? wanting to hold hands; not wanting to hold hands; being afraid to hold hands; holding hands via proxy, etc. etc.?

and you know how both Endeavor and All Might have each done their own version of the victory pose that Kacchan is referring to here? with each one using a different hand?

so you see, I was thinking that it might be nice. might be a little poetic and all that. if at the end of the fight, Deku and Kacchan did, in fact, hold hands. and then did the victory pose together. and it became like their iconic hero moment. them standing there together. having accomplished their goal and defeated TomurAFO through teamwork. realizing their shared childhood dream. and sharing that moment of triumph with each other and with the world, ushering in a new era of heroes

anyway yeah. I was thinking that might be a pretty good ending. but it looks like Kacchan maybe really is about to pass out here now, lol, so maybe not? anyways time to finally scroll down

-- okay I literally said awww again out loud

what a fucking nerd. I have never felt more fondness for a character in my life

every damn person watching this on the news better have leaped to their feet and started applauding, goddammit. those motherfuckers better be CHANTING HIS FUCKING NAME. all those nagging reporters better be bombarding his phone with calls. those fuckers who deleted his footage from the Shouto interview better be shamelessly leaving him dozens of voicemails acting like none of that ever happened and presumptuously asking when he can free some time in his schedule to visit their studio again. all the heroes who haven’t hugged him yet better be lining the fuck up. that one guy from the post-kidnapping press conference in chapter 86 better be writing a fifty page letter of apology!!

oh hey it’s a random pre-battle flashback mysteriously taking place in Troy “a few days before the battle” even though I thought they only moved into that place the night before the fight

I love how Katsuki immediately narrows his eyes (I assume. we can’t see for sure but that’s the vibe I get) at Jeanist and has to resist the urge to call the police on him for that pun

so Hadou’s wondering what Jeanist is talking about because they already evacuated the civilians, so what else are they trying to protect. and Edgeshot is all, “well obviously we’ve gotta protect everyone’s future,” which is a nice... rearshadowing?? for him saving Katsuki’s life later on lol

and now Mirko is all “get to the fucking point already.” which, same

so Jeanist says that Tomura is an even bigger problem than AFO, because at least AFO doesn’t want to murder everyone on the entire planet. and he concludes with “he’ll probably try to touch the ground and use his quirk.” which is a conclusion that I have to say wasn’t really worth two pages of flashback buildup for, considering that we all figured that out years ago

I’m guessing this is all just some sort of awkward transition back to Deku’s fight now lol

and now we’re getting two pages of exposition on how long it would theoretically take Tomura’s Decay to spread throughout the city, and then the entire country, yikes

damn. talk about stakes

and now finally back to Deku!!

shoutout to everyone who correctly predicted that Deku was once again talking out of his ass when it came to being out of Gearshifts. we all knew. unlimited supply

wow Tomura way to throw AFO under the bus

the way I recall it, AFO wasn’t the one who failed to kill him back then lol. but go ahead and talk your shit king

DEKU WHAT ARE YOU DOING

holy shit?!?!

like my first thought was “well last time he did this he just tried to steal OFA rather than Decay him, so he’ll probably try that again and it’ll be fine.” only to remember that the AFO inside Tomura is currently permanently(?) out to lunch, and Tomura himself doesn’t give two figs about stealing OFA. so, uhhhh >_>

(ETA: nevermind.)

but then this happened

Deku what the actual fuck

OH MY GOD??!?!

HOLY SHIT

okay. okay, fuck. lemme gather up my thoughts, and then we’ll wrap this up

they’ll never admit it, but you know the other OFA Vestiges secretly resented Shino a tiny bit for being the only one of them to not be gruesomely murdered. bet they all feel guilty for thinking that now

Shino and Banjou also seemed to have this cute little pseudo-rivalry thing going on, so I really feel bad for Banjou now. :/ he looks so horrified in that bottom right panel

gotta admit, I did not see this coming in the slightest. OFA has been this immutable “I do what I want!” quirk for so long that I never thought Tomura or AFO would actually succeed in stealing it, even partially. that shook me to my core

BUT, it’s also really exciting to me because it’s going to make this battle much more interesting if Deku can’t use his get out of jail free card. shit just got way more real and I’m here for it

lastly, so! let me tell you guys my prediction. I still can’t see Tomura being the final villain lol. I just can’t. it feels too anticlimactic. if I’m wrong, I’m wrong, and I’ve certainly botched MANY predictions in the past, but I have not yet learned my lesson from any of it and I will not apologize lol

so here’s what I think. Deku and Tomura battle it out for the next chapter or two, and Tomura snatches up more of Deku’s quirks one by one. we see all of the Vestiges disappearing and the mood gets more and more desperate. eventually we’re down to just Kudou and Yoichi. Deku is panicking, but for some reason Kudou seems even MORE panicked

Kudou/Gearshift eventually gets stolen too, and it looks like this might finally be it for Deku (I have no idea how he’d stop Tomura from Decaying the ground once Blackwhip gets stolen, btw, but maybe Katsuki or someone else interferes in desperation towards the end). but just when it looks like Tomura is finally going to take the last piece of OFA, Deku’s vibes suddenly do a 180, stopping Tomura in his tracks

cut to the OFA Moon Gorgeous Meditation Realm, where Deku and Yoichi are staring at the door -- yes, that door -- in shock. because it’s finally been opened (now that the other Vestiges are no longer there to keep it at bay). and just like that, enter AFO, for the THIRD FUCKING TIME :D :D

tl;dr, HERE’S HOW HORCRUX!DEKU CAN STILL HAPPEN!!! wait where are you all going. wait come back

anyway so wow that was a really bizarre chapter that I truly thoroughly enjoyed, which should probably be a bit concerning. on to the next two week break! (for anyone who’s not aware, Shounen Jump will be on break next week, so yeah.) I’m on chapter 391 now. so close but still so far. the end of the year has gone by too damn fast tbh

[freedomfireflies]

hi bestie, can i request smth where harry is filming dwd and olivia keeps trying to get at harry and hit on him but he denies her every time and one day where reader comes to set she and harry are both in harry’s trailer but olivia doesn’t know reader is there so she tries hitting on harry again and starts saying rlly inappropriate things and reader hears and puts her in her place and says that if she ever talks to harry in a way other than a precessional way she’ll expose her or something? idk if that made sense haha and harry gets all happy and is like you are my lord and savior 😭 can you make reader a really bad bitch 😭😭 💕

Hi! Yes, so, I’m changing things a bit because I’m personally not a super big fan of bringing Olivia herself into this kind of stuff but I’m absolutely keeping the premise!! Just changing the antagonist to someone fictional instead! Obviously you can still picture her if you’d like but I hope this will be okay and that whoever asked will still enjoy 😭💞

“‘I know exactly where you can stick that can of tuna, Jack-ass.’”

Harry smirks, eyes peering over the top of his script at you. “The line is, ‘Hi, honey, welcome home.’”

“Oh. Weird. I must have gotten a different script cause mine definitely says the other thing,” you reply innocently, batting your eyelashes as he exhales a soft laugh. “Yeah, see…right there. Jack. Ass.”

“Oh, it does, does it?”

“It does. Strange, huh?”

“Uh-huh. Very.”

You bite at your lip to refrain from grinning as you return your eyes to the page. “Okay, well…I think you’re good for tomorrow’s scene. I mean, it’s kind of all about her, anyway, so…no one will really be paying attention to you.”

“Gee, thanks,” he snorts as he straightens up on the small couch, tossing the script to the side.

“Hey, am I wrong?” You blink. “Hello. Florence fucking Pugh is in the same frame, I guarantee you nobody is looking at you.”

“Oh, well, I’m flattered,” he retorts, hand coming up to his chest in faux appreciation. “No, really. Give me another compliment. I think I’m blushing.”

Your eyes roll playfully as you gingerly chuck a water bottle at him. It flies across the tiny trailer and whacks him in the stomach as he flinches, laughing as it falls into his lap. “Hysterical. Truly,” you bite back. “Been a movie star for five minutes and think you’re the shit.”

He tosses his arms along the back of the couch, settling in a bit further as he nods at you. “S’been at least ten minutes, love.”

“Right, and to this day, iCarly is still your best work.”

“…you know what, I’m not even gonna argue with you on that one. I really did shine.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Sucked the shit out of that water bottle.”

“You really did.”

“Oscar-worthy, I’d say.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

He eyes you from his spot, sensing your teasing tone, and before you can clock his sneaky intentions, he’s lifting the water bottle into the air, twisting off the cap, and flinging the water at you.

You gasp as the water effectively drenches your hair, face, and chest. You attempt to shield yourself by throwing your arms up, but it’s too late, and Harry lets out a deep, guttural laugh. 

“Oh, you dick,” you squeal, immediately standing as you throw him a peeved look. “See, this is why I don’t take you home to my mother.”

He’s wearing a shit-eating grin as he watches you scramble to the bathroom. “Oops.”

“Oops my ass.” You attempt to wring some of the water out of your hair as you glance at your reflection in the tiny mirror. “I can’t go out there and let Chris Pine see me like this!”

Another laugh. “Why not?”

“Because I love him and I have mascara dripping down my face,” you huff, swiping a knuckle under your eye. “Oh, God, this is bad. Okay, gimme five, I gotta reset.”

“Babe,” he calls with another chuckle. “You look fine—”

“Bite me!” you retort quickly before slamming the door shut. “Shit! Where’s my setting powder?”

You hear him snort to himself from the other side but soon turn your attention back to the canvas that he so elegantly ruined.

It had taken you twenty minutes to get the eyeliner wing this sharp.

You frown as you get to work, and for the next couple of minutes, your focus remains on your own reflection as you hear Harry humming to himself on the couch.

And then…the humming stops.

“Hey…?”

“Hey, so sorry to bother you. I just wanted to check in before you leave, make sure you’re doing all right with the revisions.”

You pause, leaning a bit closer to the door as a second voice enters the trailer.

“Oh…yeah. Went over it this afternoon. I like it, it sounds good. I think it’ll be really impactful.”

“Oh, good. Good, yeah. Yeah, I’m really looking forward to watching you and Florence bring it to life. I’ve said it before, but we really are just so lucky to have you both on board.”

You finally recognize the voice, placing it to the face of the film’s director, Angela. And now that your curiosity is satisfied, you return to your task as the conversation continues to slip underneath the door.

“Hey, it’s all thanks to your vision,” Harry is humbly responding. “I just feel lucky to be a part of it.”

A bit of silence as you swipe your lipstick along your bottom lip before you hear the sound of footsteps climbing up the stairs and into the trailer.

“You’re such a doll. No, really, that’s such a kind to say,” Angela gushes. “You know…this whole casting process was really just…it was so stressful there for a minute but after I saw your audition tape, I just knew you’d be our Jack.”

“Listen, I’m just glad it worked out the way it did. It’s kind of nice to dip my toe into this side of the industry and I’ve got a lot of really great mentors to help me along.”

“Oh, absolutely. I mean, we just have such a fantastic cast. You’re in great hands.”

A beat.

“And, you know, I’ve said this before but…if you ever need anything at all, you just need to let me know,” Angela says. “You’re my top priority, and I want to make sure you feel taken care of.”

“Thanks, that’s really—”

Suddenly, it goes quiet. Far too quiet and for a moment, you wonder if they’ve left the trailer altogether.

You step out of the bathroom and glance both ways, just to check and make sure he didn’t leave you behind.

But instead of an empty trailer, you find Harry.

And Angela.

And her tongue.

Down his throat.

Your eyebrows just about fly off your forehead as you clear your throat and call, “I’m sorry. Am I interrupting something?”

Terrified, and a bit pale, Harry leans back and catches your eye, expression frazzled like a deer caught in headlights.

Angela, however, is a bit slower to remove herself from his body, finally stepping back with a bit of a wounded smile. “Oh, my gosh…I’m so sorry. This…this isn’t how I wanted you to find out, I—”

“Find what out?” you ask just as Harry says, “I’m sorry, what?”

She quickly looks between you both, palm hovering over her mouth as if stunned. “Oh! I’m…I’m sorry, I thought you told her.”

“Told me what?” you repeat, stepping closer, and looking to Harry.

Poor thing looks like he’s about to keel over.

“About…our…arrangement,” she answers shyly, and your eyes narrow.

Harry blinks. “We…what? What arrangement, I—”

“Oh. That arrangement. Got it,” you cut in, nodding as you finally put the pieces together.

Both Harry and Angela turn to look at you, surprised. 

“Yeah,” you agree, taking another step as you meet her eye. “Yeah, no. Florence told me about this thing you do where you try to fuck your actors and exploit them for fame. Oh, and how your entire marriage is a sham, and you’re trying to get out of it by pretending you were the innocent, bad-ass feminist just trying to do her job when you were blackmailed into sleeping with your costar.”

She swallows as Harry’s jaw nearly drops.

“Oh, she also told me that if I were to find you…arranging yourself on my man, then I should remind you of section 15, paragraph 3 of the contract you signed,” you add, arms crossing over your chest. “Does that…ring any bells?”

Her cheeks flush. “Look, I wasn’t trying to—”

“I’m sure,” you hum. “But you did, and now you’re done. Thank you so much for stopping by. Buh-bye now.”

And with that, you gesture toward the door. 

A rather petrified Angela stands to her feet, knees a bit wobbly as she makes her way for the exit.

And just before she can close the door, you call, “Oh, and just a little tip…when you see the officers? Don’t run.”

The door slams shut before you have the chance to see her expression but something tells you…it was everything.

Now, you turn to Harry, still glued to the small sofa. “Anything you have to say for yourself?”

He straightens up, nearly tripping over his tongue as he begins to explain, “I promise, I don’t know what happened, she just put her hand on my thigh and suddenly it was, like, all the way up my thigh, and her mouth was like…right there, and I didn’t know what to do, and I wasn’t sure what was even happening, or if it was part of the script or something, and I—”

You close the gap between you and take his face between your palms. “Harry?”

He winds down to a stop. “…yeah?”

You grin. “I love you.”

Utter relief floods his features as he sighs and melts back into the cushions. “I love you, too. Thank you, by the way. Ironically, she tasted like canned tuna.”

You laugh as you flop down beside him, whacking at his chest on the way down. “Ew. Poor Nick.”

“Right? iCarly would never do this to me.”

For a moment, you can only chuckle, and despite the rather interesting turn of events…you can’t deny your joy.

“No,” you agree with a grin. “No, she would not.”

~ Full Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

[makethatelevenrings]

Okay... Here we go! SecretAdmirer!Jason x reader. All month, he leaves a little gift each day at the reader's desk while she's at lunch. (Nothing weird, but like her favorite candy bar or something.) Occasionally, he leaves little poems with them. Nobody knows (rather nobody will tell because they've been shipping you two idiots for a while) who it is. On Valentine's Day, he finally 'gets caught', leaving a single rose.

you’re Bruce’s long-suffering secretary

Jason comes by one day to drop off Tim (and to totally annoy Bruce) and he stops in front of your desk and you blink up at him, pen cap resting between your lips and a cup of coffee clutched in the other hand and my boy is smitten

he starts coming by regularly and Bruce totally knows why but he doesn’t want to push Jason away so he just accepts the various pranks that Jason sets up as an excuse for his presence

he starts chatting with you as he comes by “for lunch” he claims, but you see the whoopee cushion he’s holding behind his back

one day you made an off handed comment that your stapler broke and boom, a new one appeared by lunchtime

small things start appearing, your favorite candy to your favorite snack. After a long night at the office, you find a cup of coffee and a breakfast sandwich from your favorite cafe sitting on your desk

you have your suspicions, but you also don’t want to make an accusation and be wrong because that would be mortifying

he thinks he’s so slick asking you what your plans are for Valentine’s Day and Jason totally doesn’t leave with a cheesy grin on his face

I feel like he would debate on flowers but then he settles on a little poetry book, something simple but deeply touching

you find it on your desk when you get in on Valentine’s morning and you run your fingers over the soft cover before flipping it over to the first page where a small inscription is written

I’m shit with words and a fucking coward so I hope this helps explain - Jason

you march over to Bruce’s office, barge in without asking, inform him that you’re taking the day off “so your idiot son can take me to the aquarium” and he merely salutes you before firing off a text to the family group chat that he wins the bet

Jason does take you to the aquarium and he kisses you under the sea turtle exhibit. The poetry book sits on one of the bookshelves in his bedroom with a small plush turtle next to it.

every Valentine’s Day, he pulls the book down and sits on the couch with you pressed flush against him as he quietly reads aloud poems to you (you never last past ten poems before you’re practically jumping his bones) (there’s just something about your scarred lover with his rough, smoke-tinged voice and sharp eyes reading aloud his devotion to you)

Liked this? Send me an ask over the next few days for a Valentine’s Day drabble or headcanon!

[starryhutcherson]

clapton davis fic where hes just like, super flirty and its really cute and the reader is oblivious to this but eventually clapton is like "damn it why cant you get the hint" so he opens up to the reader?&;&:& tysmm

━━ UNSUBTLE SUBTILITY

'୧ ‧₊ pairing: clapton davis x reader warnings: swearing, brief depictions of blood word count: 2500+ ⋆ ✩‧₊

The presence of Spring in Grizzly Lake brought a lot of things; including sporadic bursts of heaven-yellow sunlight, greenery spiraled across branches of previously barren tree skeletons, and, most importantly for students of Grizzly Lake High School, the promise of the Spring Fling Formal that was set to occur in the midst of May. 

For Clapton, this prom meant one thing; achieving his goal that’s been looming over him since freshman year — ask you out. Theoretically it’s a simple process, but if it was truly as easy as it sounds it would have occurred the very moment his eyes landed on your figure that first day in beginner spanish. 

You were the embodiment of perfection, punctuated through your gleaming smile that enraptured anyone in a ten mile radius, and the way the sun seemed to spread across the expanse of your cheeks, soaking you in the rays of heaven itself. Clapton was about ready to propose that day, and he didn’t even know your name. 

Now, roughly two years later, he was still amidst the same dilemma, the one in which he actually had to do the asking-out part. He was sure by now you would have picked up on his inherently obvious attempts to entice you, but you remained oblivious, so he decided he’d have to fully commit if he wanted to capture your attention. The art of unsubtle subtility, if you will. 

And so, forty three minutes into the depths of an agonizingly dull pre-calculus lesson, he confidently taps your shoulder with a fractionally tense hand, and indulges the tug on his heartstrings when you turn around, framed by the delicate glow of mid-morning spring that he adores so much. 

“Something wrong, Clapton?” Your voice cleaves through the classroom ambience of idle chatter and textbook pages being flipped. He flashes a boyish smile in hopes to flutter your heart in the same way you flutter his. 

“Do you get any of these questions?” 

“Yeah, they’re not too bad,” you reply, offering an ephemeral that renders his throat tight. 

He glanced down momentarily at his worksheet, adorned in scrawls and scribbles, yet lacking a single legible answer. His vision trains up back to you though, as it always does. He thought you’d easily detect the unspoken question for your help, but you remained stationary in your seat, as if waiting for him to say it. He couldn’t tell if you were genuinely that heedless, or if you were toying with him. Cat and mouse. 

“Seriously? When did they even teach us all this?”

You shrug mindlessly, and a lock of hair shifts from its position on your shoulder. He’d give anything to rope his fingers through it. “A while back. Why, you need some help?” 

Yes. He’d like your help, your compassion, your hand in marriage…

“Wanna walk me through it?” He tosses you a hopeful expression, and you answer back with a simple nod, sliding your chair along the cheap linoleum floor with a scrape, until the pair of you are sharing his desk, impossibly close. 

Your velvet voice is stringing sentences right down the expanse of his spine, though your attempts to help him understand logarithmic differentiation were ultimately futile— how was he supposed to concentrate on anything when he could feel your words blooming on his skin? See every freckle and divot etched into your face? He could taste his own heartbeat as it melded against his throat.

“So, this helps to avoid complications like the product rule and the quotient rule when— Clapton?”

He cocks his head up, trying to ignore the swell in his stomach when he hears the way his name sounds braided between your sentences, it suits your voice so well.

“Yeah? What’s up?” 

“Are you even listening?”  

Shit, no he absolutely wasn’t. How could he? Your proximity allowed him to see you. Like, properly see you. 

“Yeah. Totally. Logaramic thingyation,” he murmurs with overt certainty, and a puppylike grin. 

You snicker. “Couldn’t even get the name right?” 

He’s internally collapsing, though he manages to force some words out of his struggling brain. 

“Hard to think when you’re here.” He doesn’t dare sever the eye contact between you, hoping to hone the tension as long as possible, until he shatters you. His lopsided grin shrinks in a moment of brevity; you’re so close and he can smell you and your very essence. He’s sure that his ulterior motive is conveyed, through the way his eyes explore the breadth of your figure, never leaving, never faltering— yet to his pure irritation, all he gets is a blank expression and a confused chuckle. 

“Why is that?” You ask, and he wants to grab you by your shoulders and shake you. Are you really that dense? Your face is about as expressive as a rock, and you seem not even partially affected by the flirty wink he sent your way moments prior. 

“You’re kidding, right? Come on.” He fires back, raising a brow with a daring smirk. He wants you to inquire. You don’t. He realizes that trying to get you to take a fucking hint was about as impossible as teaching him calculus. 

You force out an awkward laugh that makes his skin crawl with defeat, but he doesn’t back down. “Come on what?” 

He refrains from the urge to say “me”, and instead huffs a sharp exhale through his nose. He’s moments away from spouting some lame compliment when the shrill cry of the bell interrupts his train of thought, and a tide of students eject eagerly from their seats and spill out into the corridor for lunch. 

Your friend approaches the desk with a quirked brow, reaching for your arm and mumbling something into your ear that’s intelligible to Clapton, tugging on you to try and steer you away from the classroom. And from him. You nod in response to her comment, before momentarily glancing back over to Clapton.

“I gotta go, Clapton. See you soon though, see you in History!” You send him a parting wave with a gentle flick of your wrist, before turning off and disappearing down the long stretch of corridor beside the classroom. His eyes follow you for as long as possible before your figure is consumed by the wandering horde of students, and he lets a grumbly sigh escape his parted lips before he packs up his belongings. This was going to be harder than he anticipated. 

*:･.・゜゜・

Clapton’s second attempt at alluring you resulted in more or less the same outcome. He’d entered the cafeteria, instantly bathed in the overwhelming odor of lysol and lard. His prior plan was to grab a doctor pepper, maybe a sandwich, and head over to his typical table to talk a painfully uninterested Sander’s ear off about you, but he scrapped it upon spotting you waiting in the cafeteria line, immediately changing course and veering over in hopes of a successful conversation.

He cuts in front of an unsuspecting freshman, ignores the irritated “What’s your deal man?”, and ‘accidentally’ brushes up to you until your bodies knock, and you spin around in confusion. 

Your face mildly relaxes in recognition, and he takes this as progress.

 “Hey. Getting lunch?”

“What else would I be doing?” You ask. Swing and a miss. 

He clears his throat a fraction, not allowing this to throw him off his game. 

“I dunno, maybe you just really like standing in lines,” he teases, and you laugh back. 

“Especially if the line is for overpriced cafeteria food,” you add with a grin.

The pair of you share a laugh, and Clapton marvels at the fact that you can look so irresistible even in the harsh fluorescence of the cafeteria’s artificial lighting. The pair of you fall into a partially awkward silence, and he follows your line of vision, watching as you observe some students hanging a hand painted banner advertising prom for the entirety of the cafeteria to see. ‘Spring Fling Formal, get your tickets now!’ glistens in white gold lettering. He prays he can take the banner up on that offer. 

“Are you doing anything for it?” A bit of a jump from the casual conversation, but he was itching to entice you and couldn’t risk missing his chance. 

“Hm? For what?” His lips twitch into a gradually familiar downwards smile. “Prom,” he says, gesturing at the banner, obnoxiously pink in hue and decorated with scatterings of hastily painted daisies. 

“Oh. Maybe— I’m not sure, it’s kinda ages away.” Yup. An impossibly distant period of two weeks. Clapton’s jaw ticks uncomfortably at the prospect of the narrowing window of time. He can’t afford to screw this up.

“Right. Sure. Are you… interested in anyone in particular though?” He probes, hoping that you notice the searing spark of desperation that lingers in the loop of his irises.

“Eh. Not really. Are you?”

His ego suffers a blow at your total ignorance to his pining. He’s on the brink of combustion; unable to endure the cosmic irony of having you so close yet so far. He pictures you for the umpteenth time, glittering in a dress that matched your eyes and his tie. A slow dance to a Sting song, his eager hands situated either side of your waist. You’d stare up at him with a dazzled guise, illuminated by the scintillation of indigo disco lights, and his tongue would delve into yours as he soaked up the saccharine flavor of the fruit punch lingering on your lips. 

“Yeah.” He states bluntly, staring at you as if you hung each and every star. “Yeah, I’m interested in someone.” 

You raise a brow. “Oh yeah? Who?”

He clears his throat. “Someone special. Someone super special.”

“You should ask them!” “Easier said than done,” he chuckles humorlessly. 

Your lips part as you go to investigate further, but are interrupted by the scowl of the lunch lady barking at you for your order. He notes it, mac and cheese plus a diet sprite— you’re handed it moments later, and your vision is torn from him and towards your small circle of friends seated across the cafeteria, who are waving you down. You’re gonna leave again? 

“I better go sit down, but, uh, you should definitely ask that person to prom. Be upfront and everything. Y’know, you only live once, and all that, right?” 

He swears he’s going to implode at the unbridled irony of this entire situation. Be upfront. He’s been upfront! 

“You know it,” he quips weakly as you slink away. 

He’s been showering you in signals for months, and you’d always abandon them, his attempts for your acknowledgement left festering as sour memories in his head, things that made him roll over with shame in bed at night, and all for what?

He brainlessly orders his doctor pepper with a monotone grumble, feeling the frigid prick of the can’s condensation gather in his palm as he wonders what the hell it’s gonna take for you to take a damn hint. 

*:･.・゜゜・

After yet another failed interaction, Clapton had spent the span of the rest of the week stripping his words to the marrow. Every conversation he indulged in with you involved his inner thoughts spouted in their rawest form— cocky compliments, lingering touches, looks of intense pining and yet somehow you continued to miss them. Every. Last. One. 

He was nearing his wits end, teetering on the cliff of insanity and seconds away from taking the plunge. Maybe he was the one who needed to take a hint. Maybe you were trying to tell him that you weren’t interested and he wasn’t giving it up. It was a sickening notion, one that thrashes wildly in his stomach. He didn’t know much, but he did know that he’d never be satisfied until he knew your stance on him for certain.  

He was just gonna say it. 

In hindsight, it wasn’t Clapton’s smartest move to deliver the question in the midst of a dodgeball game, but his thoughts were warped and he decided now was as good as ever. His voice was barely even audible beside you over the screech of tennis sneakers scraping the gym floor and the continuous sound of rubber balls coming into contact with student flesh. 

“Hey!” He exclaims. 

“Hey?” You say back, turning to him momentarily. Yet again, he wonders how you do it. Hair blown back effortlessly, skin glistening with a fragile sheen of moisture that is hardly off-putting, if doing something it aids to soften your otherworldly glow. Meanwhile, he was panting like an old dog, hair matted to his forehead in sodden chunks beneath his obnoxious sweatband. 

“I needa ask you something!” It’s sink or swim. His teeth graze the inside of his cheek for a moment, his gaze varying between you and the opposing court, to prevent a dodgeball to the head. 

“Yeah?” Sink or swim sink or swim sink or swim. “What’s up?” He melts at the sight of your semi-breathless smile.

“Are you still dateless? Like, to prom?”

Your forehead creases, and you return the sideways glance. “Um, yeah. Why?”

With a delayed exhale that rings heavy in the pits of his lungs, he turns his entire body to face you, which in turn makes you face him as well. 

“Look, I’ve been trying to say this for months. Well, not months. Maybe weeks. Whatever– point is, it’s been a while. Like seriously, a long fucking time. And I swear I’ve been so obvious, but clearly not obvious enough because you’re still, like, totally unaware or whatever. But, like, basically, I was wondering— I’ve been wondering if—” “Clapton!” You exclaim hurriedly, splintering his stammered sentence in an instant. He barely has time to cast his visage front on, before a dodgeball with an extremely strayed trajectory soars gracefully through the current of the air and hits Clapton square in the face. Guess he wasn’t paying enough attention after all. 

An expletive leaves his lips, muffled by the wail of your gym teacher’s whistle. His head is temporarily a warped whirlwind resembling TV static, though the feeling fades fairly quickly.

You turn to him in a mild panic, noting the faint trickle of glossy crimson that has started to spill from his nose. “Holy shit! You’re bleeding! Lemme take you to the nurse.” 

He can’t help but twist his lips up to form a slight smirk as you place a worried hand on his bicep. The touch scars on his nerves, your fingers like an angel’s caress. 

In all honesty, he feels fine, but you offered to take him to the nurse— was he going to give up that delightful invitation? No. He was not. 

The pair of you are excused from the gym, trekking down the hallway in an atmosphere of silence so thick it’s practically tangible. Upon arrival at the nurse, Clapton’s seated in a shitty plastic chair, holding a paper towel held to his nose and tipping his head slightly backward. He couldn’t believe that his one chance of actually spitting his desperate question out was interrupted by a stray dodgeball. A goddamn stray dodgeball. 

You linger in the doorframe, taut as a coiled spring. The nurse, underpaid and painfully unsympathetic, leaves the pair of you once she deems Clapton to be ‘good enough’, in her exact words. 

You approach him, taking the scarlet-spotted tissue and holding it to his face for him, a gesture which turns his insides in on themselves. 

“Hey Clapton? What were you saying before?”

Shit. 

“What?” He croaks gutturally, trying and failing to play dumb. He knew damn well what he was saying. Prom with him. 

“You were asking me something. Before you got, y’know, obliterated by a flying dodgeball.”

He snickers feebly, even if for a moment. “Oh, yeah.”

You open your eyes wider as if to say, “Well?”

The climate in the room seems to sink heavier, cradling the scent of antiseptic and drying blood. Clapton’s words fizzle out on his tongue no matter which way he arranges them in his head, but he knows he just has to get it out—- rip off the band-aid, break the ice, all of that. 

His eyes, big and wide and drinking in your face so dangerously close to his, melt into an unmistakable question. He counts himself down in his head. Now or never. 

“Prom. I was asking if you wanna go to prom.” He takes a staggered breath. “With me, I mean.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

The genuine beam you erupt in subsequent to his words is enough to ease his nerves. It’s enough to make him soar, actually. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” That wasn’t a no. That wasn’t a no. His heart hurts with hope. 

“I tried to. You’re just… you kinda suck at taking hints.” He chuckles. 

You roll your eyes, picturing every moment leading up to this one that you spent with him. Upon further reflection—- yeah. Yeah, you clearly did. People don’t look at friends the way he looked at you.

“Shit, I kinda definitely do,” you murmur. 

He doesn’t let the quiet last long.

“So…?”

“Oh. Right, yeah. Clapton, I’d love to go to prom with you.”

The smile he wears is irresistibly contagious. Finally. Finally. Two long years of craving you; two years of memorizing every quirk and curve and contour. He knows it’s sort of ridiculous to get so elated about some forgettable high school dance, but the image he can see so vividly in his head; the lights and the dress and the swarm of butterflies that comes with your killer smile… it’s worth every awkward exchange, every word that’s fallen on deaf ears.

“Seriously?” He asks, reaching for your hand and wallowing in the way you so brainlessly accept the touch.

“Seriously.”

“Good. You won’t regret it.” 

And something inside you tells you that he’s absolutely right. 

reminder, my requests are always open

masterlist

✩‧₊˚

[rebelwrites]

One: Good Days And Bad

Charles Leclerc x Nova Teller (OC)

Till The Wheels Fall Off Masterlist

Small town meets the fast lane. What happens when two souls meet? Will it end in happiness or will they both crash and burn?

A/N: And here it is the first part of of probably one of my favourite series I’ve written ❤️

Warnings: strong themes of memory issues throughout

Staring across the bar, a heavy sigh escaped my lips as I tossed the damp rag into the stainless steel sink. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, no matter how hard I tried. In one of the booths sat the one person who meant the absolute world to me, the one person who never gave up on me when others had. The one person who was always in my corner fighting for me when I had lost all my strength. The one person who knew how to turn a shit day into something memorable. The one person I would do anything for, including giving my life if it came to that.

There were good days and bad, unfortunately today was one of the bad ones. We had to take each one as it came, but either way we made sure someone was always with him, that he was never left alone, especially on days like today.

Not that anyone could do anything about it– nothing would bring him back to the present. Once he slipped into his own world it was like his soul was being taken over. The vacant look on his face became permanent making him look older than he was. And unfortunately, there were only a handful of people who knew how to deal with these trances.

Between running the bar, the cafe, and tag teaming his care with Jax and Chibs, I didn’t have time to breathe let alone spend any time on myself. I always found myself checking the vacancy pages for any of the Formula One teams and every so often the position of social media manager or assistant came up. I knew Pops would have wanted me to apply but I could never bring myself to press the apply button.

No matter how bad the situation got I would always put my family first.

Finally I dropped my gaze to my phone, tapping the button on the side, causing the screen to light up. A small smile tugged at the corners of my lips at the cheesy grin of my niece staring back at me. The sight of her wearing my Ferrari hoodie always made me chuckle, the damn thing buried her but she didn’t care, all she wanted was she had her Auntie’s hoodie on.

Shaking the memory away, I rolled my eyes realizing that once again the boys were late. I should have known they would be, time keeping wasn’t their strong point. Locking my phone, I slipped it into the back pocket of my jeans before pouring a fresh mug of coffee, making my way around the bar. Within a few short strides I found myself at his corner booth.

“Here you go, Pops,” I hummed, placing the mug on the table in front of him. “Chibs will be here soon okay.”

“When’s the race on?” he grunted, pointing at the tv that was positioned over the bar. “Isn’t it Monza this week?”

Reaching out I took his hand in mine, somedays all I wanted to do was cry when he was like this but, by now, I had become a pro at hiding my emotions around everyone, especially him.

“Pops, it’s summer break, remember?” I whispered. “There aren't any races until the end of August.”

“No, no, no, no,” he exclaimed, snatching his hand away from mine. His gaze was on me but it felt like he was staring right through me. “You have it all wrong.” His voice was clipped in anger, but I knew it came from a place of fear and frustration rather than real animosity. It was easier for him to believe that we were wrong than to accept what was happening.

Taking a deep breath, I mentally counted to ten in my head remembering that this wasn’t his fault, this was just a bad day. I knew it was better to just agree with him rather than try to argue, but it didn’t always stop me from trying to get him that nudge back into the present. I needed to think on my feet, pulling my phone out of my pocket pretending to check on the race schedule when I was actually on Instagram, liking one of Charles Leclerc’s recent posts.

“Okay Pops, I’ve just checked and the race is going to start soon.” I whispered, leaning forward pressing a kiss against his cheek. Pushing myself from the booth I swiped the remote from the bar. I didn’t need to ask which year of Monza he was talking about.

It was always 2019, at this point I could recite the commentary word for word from how many times this had happened. Luckily for me, it was a race I was happy to watch over and over again being a Ferrari and Charles Leclerc fan.

It didn’t take long to get everything set up, so I could make a start on the list of stuff that needed to be ordered. Although it was the end of July and peak time for our summer rush, due to the recent bad weather we had been having, the town was quiet. People didn’t want to venture out to a small town in the middle of nowhere when the storm hit, normally it was around the start of September which was perfect because the summer tourists had ventured back home but this year it was like the world was against us, as the storms graced us with their presence at the start of July meaning our regular summer visitors decided to stay away.

I had a love-hate relationship with storm season. There was something calming about watching the sky light up as the rain thrashed down. Many times I would grab a blanket and a fresh mug of coffee, setting up camp on the sofa located on our porch, with the canopy providing the much needed shelter from the heavy rain. But recently, I began to hate the change in weather, realizing they had become one of the triggers for Pops. We couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason for his mental decline, but we assumed it had something to do when he was in Vietnam.

Summer tourists always kept me running, but now with Pops, it was even more hectic. Jax tried his best, but once he became a single father, his priorities shifted, his mini-me becoming the center of his world. I know it weighed on him, not being able to help as much, but I refused to let him feel guilty for being a good father, so instead of complaining, I worked harder, slept less, and caffeinated more.

Glancing from the TV, I spotted Jax and Chibs strolling into the bar. The first thing I noticed was Jax wasn’t wearing his kutte, it was quite rare he didn’t have the leather hanging from his shoulders but he always made a point of keeping the days we spent together just about us, not about the club or the business. Chibs on the other hand never took it off, I swore he slept in the damn thing.

the moment I raised my brow at them their smirks fell from their faces, instantly being replaced by a guilty look. “What time do you call this, aye?” I hummed, folding my arms across my chest.

“Sorry lass, we got held up at the garage.” Chibs nodded, flashing me an apologetic smile, rushing across the room joining me from behind the bar. “How’s JT been this morning?” he asked, quickly changing the subject, not wanting to receive a bollocking.

“Vacant, but not as bad as last night.” I sighed, resting my head against Chibs’ shoulder, letting the smell of leather and tobacco wash over me. “He keeps thinking it’s race week so the next month is going to be tough.”

“We will just keep putting old races on,” Chibs hummed, pressing a kiss against the top of my head. We quickly found that putting races on was the best way to calm him down when he was getting worked up, something about watching the cars making laps around the track helped him gather his thoughts.

“Yeah, all the ones where Leclerc loses or DNFs.” Jax teased, causing me to flip him the bird. “Anyway, you good to go?”

“The bikes ready?”

“On the flat bed so get your ass moving, because lord knows you need a break more than any of us.” Jax smiled softly, I could see the guilt shining bright in his icy blue eyes. “You know how much we appreciate everything you do for this family.”

To the world, Jackson Teller was an arrogant asshole, the President of the Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle club here in Charming, who had no heart and showed no mercy. Although, there was some truth in what people saw, to me he was my older brother, best friend, and confidant all rolled into one. I knew he felt guilty about not being able to look after Pops as much but I never held that against him. I knew that his daughter, Elenor, was his top priority. She had the face of an angel but we all suspected she was the devil in disguise. There was no hiding who her father was - she was a Teller through and through.

His words caused a lump to form in the back of my throat, replacing the one I had finally swallowed down about Pops having a bad day. “Nope, ain't happening, not today,” I said sternly, jumping over the bar, pressing my palm against his chest. “We aren’t going down that path today, okay? You know I’d do anything for this family. You guys saved me so it’s only fair I return the favor,” I whispered the last part, feeling his large hand wrap around mine. “Now come on, there is a bike and a muddy track that is calling our names.”

Pushing myself away from him I made my way around the room, once I had reached Pops I leant down pressing a kiss against his cheek. For a moment he broke his gaze from the TV flashing me a soft smile before squeezing my hand.

“You let me know who wins okay?” I hummed, as he turned back to watching the race. Of course, I knew who won the race but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was how excited he would be to talk about it with me when I got back. “Love you Pops.”

Feeling Jax wrap his arm around my shoulders told me it was time to go. Flashing him a soft smile I let him guide me out of the bar and to the truck.

The moment I saw our dirt bikes secured on the flat bed I couldn’t help but smile. This was something we planned once a month, no matter what was going on in our life, we always made time for this.

Not only was it a way to make sure we spent time together outside of the bar, but it was also an escape from reality. There was something about tearing around the dirt track, getting covered head to toe in mud that really cleansed the soul.

Taking a deep breath I wrapped my fingers around the door handle, rolling my eyes when I realized Jax still hadn’t fixed the damn thing. I swore this truck was one strong wind of becoming a pile of metal in the corner of the yard at the garage.

It had been in the family for years, all the paint was peeling, the arches were rusted out, the roof leaked when it rained and there was always a plank of wood strapped to the bed of the truck ready to load the bikes.

“We own a garage and you haven’t sorted this yet!” I scolded with a playful smirk on my face as I yanked the door open. I knew why this truck hadn’t been restored, every dent and scratch held memories for both of us. My fondest memory was the dent the shape of Jax’s head from when we had one of our rare fights and I slammed him into the truck.

“I will get round to it,” he chuckled, running around the front of the truck. “Now get your ass in, we haven’t got all day.”

Rolling my eyes at my brother, I pulled myself into the truck, slamming the door behind me. Without asking I reached over and grabbed the crumpled pack of smokes from the dashboard.

“That's it, just steal my smokes,” Jax laughed, raising his brow as he slammed the truck into reverse.

“Want one?” I hummed, holding the cigarette between my teeth.

“What, of my own smokes? Of course, I want one, dipshit.” He huffed, snatching the pack from my lap.

A silence washed over the two of us as Jax sped through the streets of our hometown, filling our lungs with nicotine. Even with my rare time off, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander back to Pops. No matter what I was doing I always found myself worrying about him, even though I knew he was in good hands.

“Stop it,” Jax said softly.

“You know I hate when you do that,” I huffed, resting my head against the window. “But I can’t help it. I worry.”

“I know,” he sighed, running his fingers through his messy hair. “I worry as well but you know he’d hate it if we put our life on hold because of him.”

He was right, but it was exactly what I was doing. When we found out he was suffering with his memory, I abandoned my dreams to do what I could to help the man that I called my father, the man that raised me as his when both my parents decided that drugs were more important to them than their own flesh and blood. So, instead of pursuing my dream of working on the formula one circuit, I took over the bar and cafe without batting an eye.

Before I could manage a reply, I felt myself being tossed around in the seat. If it wasn’t for the seat belt I would have probably been through the window.

“Now we are talking.” I grinned, slapping my palms against my thighs as I focused on the muddy track that laid before us. “The only good thing about weeks of rain.”

Jax didn’t need telling twice as he practically threw himself out of the truck and, from the sounds of it, was already working on the ratchet straps that secured the bikes. Following suit I joined him as he jumped onto the bed of the truck.

We had plenty of practice getting the bikes down so it didn’t take us long before we were pulling on our protective gear. Once I was straddling the bike I instantly felt at home, the grin on my face was wide as I wrapped my fingers around the throttle.

“You know having the number 16 on your bike doesn’t make it any faster.” Jax teased, passing me my helmet. “You aren’t Charles Leclerc.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I scoffed, pulling the lid on my head, flipping the visor up before speaking again. “Just because my bike is better than yours.”

“Squirt, we have the same bike.”

“Yet I’m still faster than you,” I said smugly. “Now, are we riding or chit chatting?” I hummed, slamming my visor down leaving Jax in a spray of mud.

“I’m gonna kill you for that.” His pissed off tone echoed through my helmet through the ear pieces we had installed.

“You have to catch me first, asshole,” I giggled, opening up the throttle, racing up to the tree line.

@withmyteeth @chibsytelford @stillbreathin @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie @celestialams @dragon-of-winterfell @ohthemisssery @a-distantdreamer @sgkophie @angywritesstuff @enchantedbytomandhenry @scribbuluswrites @dangerouspursepeachbear @buendiabebeta @ferrarifwendvale @theplobnrgone @charlesleclercje @queenslife @panicforspec @inesramoss30 @justme2042 @liv67 @derpinathebrave @clcspeonies @pleasantducktimetravel @raaaaabzzz @mehrmonga @sbgal @fangirl-lb @pitconfirmbutton @oslokij @tall-tanned-tattoo @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @pumpkin-spice-hate @talicat713 @band--psycho @little-diable @i-love-scott-mccall @fourthwallhateclub @theysayitscrazy @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @meteora-fc @beeroses @darklydeliciousdesires @the-jer-bear @extraneousred @youflickedtooharddamnit @babypink224221

[isabeljkim]

What the hell is going on with Day Ten Thousand:

Day Ten Thousand was weird enough that I felt like it deserved directors commentary, even though I’ve stopped explaining myself mostly except when I do.

Here’s a disclaimer before we begin: don’t read too much into it. I've noticed our culture wants to explain young womens’ art as some sort of public confessional booth and our current culture has a fetish for the autobiographical. Fuck that. I didn’t write three different POVs and three interlocking nonlinear narratives about the nature of storytelling as a psychic technology to be told that my writing isn’t a calculated Craft with a capital C. Now whether it is good Craft is a decision for you, not for me. 

Anyway. 

Day Ten Thousand is a satire of an Isabel story by way of Vonnegut pastiche. We’ll come back to this. 

I called Day Ten Thousand “psychoanalysis bait” on twitter so I shall put all my cards on the table so that your psychoanalysis is at least accurate. Note that these are only my cards, because other people deserve their privacy. I guess you could probably Google all of this but like, jeez. Don’t.

I had a pretty regular time in college except for the tangential deaths. 

When I was twenty, I was the opinion editor for my university newspaper and a girl who was a friend of a friend killed herself by walking in front of a subway. There was then a sort of a small suicide bubble which was a little bit public because we were an Ivy, and one of my opinion columnists was kinda suicidal, and I, without any training, ended up in charge of writing a front page editorial about the mental health crisis on campus on account of the dead kids, etc, and talk to administration about the dead kids. 

I hate talking about dead kids. Don’t ask me about it, or about the reporting. I don’t want to talk about it. 

The whole thing sucked shit and it’s why I’m a lawyer now and not a reporter. 

If this was a story that would be the only fact, but this is reality so I have to mention that a couple years later a guy I knew got literally hate crimed and murdered in a forest. I found out about that because I saw his friend crying in public and didn’t stop to ask what was wrong. Later I heard about this in the news, and realized my acquaintance had been Literally Fucking Murdered. A few months ago I had been arguing with him in the literary magazine editors meeting about whether a poem was good or not. I think he won that argument. Then he was murdered for being gay. 

These were my introductions to the specific emotion of “sometimes people die and you don’t feel like you get to feel bad about their deaths and you still think about it a couple times a month seven years later.” 

You can probably guess where the subject material of this story came from.

Day Ten Thousand was a story about inevitable deaths, and the difference between a death in a story and a death in reality, and about…the way a death marks a narrative and a real life and how it becomes fictionalized over time. I also saw a clean way to finally do my deep time / far future story, which was something I had been thinking about on and off for a couple of years (the original version was about a shaman in the deep-time era who has a vision about having to do a murder re: preserving genetic material for the future, but it never really gelled in a way that made sense). 

I had also been wanting to write something a little metafictional, because I felt like I was writing the same story over and over (if you’ve noticed my stuff getting weirder, that’s why. I was on a bit of an experimentalist kick late last year and early this year). 

So it’s a satire of an Isabel story. I’m self-aware enough to note my obvious recurring motifs: time travel, dead people, grief, people who have a weird relationship to each other, a third-act twist, the tendency to punctuate with in-universe facts to imply emotion, to tell x in order to show y, egregious and blatant use of the second person. And then there’s the stuff that you wouldn’t know, but I do: I dislike writing in the first person, I wanted to do something nonlinear, I think a lot about stories about stories, about the idea of a story as a technology, I find myself dropped into recursive fate-like thought patterns. So a lot of this story is both my self-deprecating poking fun at myself and my habits, and also my thesis statement about…what is the point of fiction if not to make sense of the past and the future, I suppose.

The reason it is a Vonnegut pastiche is because I like Vonnegut a lot and I was trying to do something Slaughterhouse-5-ish with drastically less fucked source material. Sorry Kurt. 

There are three stories happening in Day Ten Thousand, and a secret fourth story. Each story is a suicide loop. The protagonist is trying to break a specific loop by telling a story. This story is about accepting what you have to, and changing what you can. This is a story about letting go and also not letting go. The emotional range of each narrative affects the other psychically, because by changing the vibe of the metanarrative, the individual narratives are allowed to change. 

The story in the archaic is a story that is being told postmortem, it is all hypotheticals based on fact. The story in the future is a singular narrative happening in real time until it isn't. And the story in the present is a guy telling the story about the future, which requires him to tell the story about the past as well, and mostly what Dave is doing here is avoiding the question, but it reflects how Dave thinks about the girl dying in front of the train. 

Does that make sense? No? That’s fair. That’s a postmortem explanation of what actually happened. What actually happened is that I rewrote Day Ten Thousand six times, each time more frustrating than the last, each time with the neutral-ish narrator taking up more and more air. And over time the narrator became a participant, and that’s what created the secret fourth story between “you” and the narrator. 

I had thought there were only three loops that needed to be escaped - the past (archaic, pinned story), and the future (space station, mutable fact), and that the present (the narrator’s world) was something that was static (pinned fact). After all, the girl’s already dead. She’s already stepped in front of the train. 

But the narrator isn’t doing so hot. The narrator is also Dave. And the narrator is telling the story to someone. Somewhere between version one and version six, I realized the only version of this story that makes sense is the one where the story is a conversation, and that you and I, as the narrator and the person at the other end, were also in a loop. 

So. That's whats happening.

I’m not sure if I love the ending. But I rewrote it six times and this one felt as final as it is going to get. I am done reinventing the fucking wheel. You know how it is with spaghetti. Promise I’ll write you something normal next time, I think I’ve gotten the avant- garde out of my system for a few months. 

And hey, I know I said all cards on the table but people deserve their privacy and that includes the kid i used to be when I was twenty, sitting in the shitty little windowless opinion column office, writing about suicide. 

Anyway. Day Ten Thousand is about stuff and things. Themes. So it goes. 

Thanks for reading. I’ll see you later. 

If that was too depressing for you, here are some fun facts: 

The main character is Dave after 2001: A Space Odyssey because I had wanted to make a “I’m sorry Dave I can’t do that” joke, but I couldn’t shove it in :( 

I just thought that phlebotomist was a funny word but I also fucked myself because I misspelled it every time. 

I reread half of Slaughterhouse Five to write this but then my copy got returned to the library automatically so I didn’t finish it. (yes, I’ve read it before, like three times)  

I took one single evolutionary anthropology course in college and it shows.  

I did end up looking at the wikipedia page for “the wheel” for this and then wondering exactly what I was doing with my life. 

About half the facts in this are real, and I read a couple of papers for a couple of things in it (that I promptly then ignored), but the rockets-rome-horse’s ass thing is specifically a story that my friend Max H. likes to tell. 

[sicknessbysalem]

Novemetober (Rescheduled) | Day Ten Substitution

@monthofsick | day ten: sick with an audience motion sickness

tw for emeto, anxiety, motion sickness, brief description of crime scenes at the beginning

Not many things bothered Vanessa McAllister.

Vanessa McAllister was an EMT. She was a police officer. She was a behavioral analyst. She saw blood, guts, and gore on a regular basis. She victims with heads bashed in or riddled with bullets. She'd been to highway wrecks. She had crawled in through smashed windows, she had come to murder scenes and domestic calls.

There were few things that bothered or scared Vanessa McAllister.

Except the family of Willow Atkinson. They scared her.

Well, scared maybe wasn't the right word. But when Willow had mentioned Vanessa meeting them someday, that scared her.

Vanessa couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had been creeping up on her ever since Willow had first mentioned the trip to meet her family and attend her brother Walker's season opener race. She had tried to mask her anxiety with excitement, but now, as they drove down the winding roads toward the small town where Willow's family lived, Vanessa's stomach churned with nerves.

As they journeyed down the winding roads, Vanessa attempted to distract herself with one of her crime novels. She figured immersing herself in a world of fictional crimes and investigations would provide a welcome escape from her mounting anxiety, as weird as it may be. But, she always was fond of making fun of the poor executions in books. However, try as she might to focus on the words printed on the page, her mind kept drifting back to the impending meeting with Willow's family.

She couldn't help but replay scenarios in her head, imagining all the ways the encounter could go wrong. What if they didn't like her? What if she said or did something to embarrass herself in front of them? What if they saw through her tough exterior and realized just how nervous she really was?

Willow didn't talk much about her family. Vanessa was sure there was probably some strain on the relationship, there had to be. Vanessa lnew what relational strain with family looked like, she lived it, so she never pressed Willow on it. But, it was understood by both of them that Vanessa needed to meet Willow's parents at least once before the two were set to marry. Vanessa would, in time, introduce Willow to her dad. But, probably not her mom. She really didn't want to take Willow to a maximum security prison. Even though Vanessa knew she could protect her, and knew Willow could protect herself, the idea of her sweet and mostly innocent fiancee entering a maximum security facility was almost laughable.

Vanessa glanced over at Willow, fidgeting with her engagement band, who was humming along to the radio, seemingly oblivious to her partner's inner turmoil. How could someone be so calm and composed in the face of such a daunting prospect? Vanessa couldn't help but envy her fiancée's seemingly unshakeable confidence.

But try as she might to emulate Willow's cool demeanor, Vanessa couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at her from within. The closer they got to their destination, the more her stomach roiled with nerves.

Suddenly, the car swerved around a particularly sharp bend in the road, jolting Vanessa out of her thoughts. She gripped the door handle tightly, her knuckles turning white as she fought back a wave of nausea.

"Shit, sorry," Willow said, "No clue what was in the road."

Vanessa shook her head, "No, no it's fine." He voice sounded tense.

"Hey, you okay?" Willow asked, casting a concerned glance in her direction.

Vanessa forced a tight smile. "Yeah, just… not a fan of these winding roads, I guess."

Willow reached over and squeezed her free hand reassuringly. "We're almost there, Nessie. Just a few more hours. Do you want me to stop at the next exit? We could fill up the car and you can take a breather, maybe get some water or something? I think the next one is like, five miles out?"

"Sure," Vanessa said, nodding, "I can run in and get us something to drink?"

Willow nodded, "Yeah, that sounds good."

As they approached the next exit, Willow guided the car smoothly off the highway and into the gas station parking lot. Vanessa felt a wave of relief wash over her at the prospect of a brief respite from the claustrophobic confines of the car.

"Here we are," Willow said, pulling up to one of the gas pumps. "I'll fill up the tank. You go ahead and grab us something, okay?"

Vanessa nodded gratefully, eager to escape the confines of the car for a few moments. She pushed open the door and stepped out into the crisp air, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves.

Inside the gas station, Vanessa decided to take a moment. She felt sick, but maybe if she just splashed some cold water on her face or soemthing, then it might calm her stomach down a bit. She pushed open the door and stumbled inside, collapsing against the sink as a wave of dizziness washed over her.

Closing her eyes, Vanessa took slow, deep breaths, willing herself to calm down. But despite her efforts, the feeling of nausea persisted, gnawing at her from the inside out.

With a frustrated sigh, Vanessa splashed some cold water on her face and forced herself to look in the mirror. She could do this. She had to do this, for Willow's sake if not her own. She didn't want to make the trip any harder for herself or Willow by getting sick..

Feeling slightly more composed, Vanessa made her way back to the front of the store, grabbing a few drinks and a snack for Willow before heading back out to the car.

Willow was just finishing up at the pump as Vanessa approached, a concerned frown on her face. "Hey, you okay? You were in there for a while."

Vanessa nodded, offering her fiancée a weak smile. "Yeah, just needed to use the bathroom. Here, I got you a drink and some snacks."

Willow's expression softened as she took the items from Vanessa's outstretched hand. "Thanks, Nessie. You didn't have to do that."

Vanessa shrugged, trying to play off her earlier panic. "No problem. Just trying to be a good partner, you know?"

Willow smiled, reaching out to squeeze Vanessa's hand. "You're the best partner I could ask for, Nessie. Let's get back on the road, yeah?"

With Willow's hand clasped firmly in hers, Vanessa felt a surge of determination coursing through her veins. She could do this. She could face whatever challenges lay ahead, as long as she had Willow by her side.

"So what is your brother doing?" Vanessa asked, hoping that maybe, possibly, talking would help her feel better. Or at least distract her from feeling so bad.

"Season opener race," Willow said, "He does motocross professionally. This is the start of the season. Like Novak, when he plays his first game of the season."

Vanessa nodded, "Yeah. Okay, makes sense."

"Yeah, our parents didn't exactly like it," Willow said, "But he loves it. So, I'm happy for him."

"But it stresses you out," Vanessa commented.

Willow nodded, "Of course it does. I work in an emergency room. But, he lives his life how he wants, I live mine. And my parents will feel whatever they want about it."

Despite the conversation, Vanessa couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom that hung over her like a dark cloud. And as they continued their journey, the sense of dread only intensified, until it felt like she was teetering on the edge of a precipice, one wrong move away from plunging into the abyss below.

Willow glanced over at her, concern etched into her features. "Hey, Nessie, you okay?"

Vanessa forced a weak smile. "Yeah, just a little queasy. Must be the winding roads."

Willow reached over and squeezed her hand reassuringly. "We're almost there. Just hang in there a little longer, okay?"

"Wills, pull over," Vanessa forced out, "Please."

As they rounded another bend, Vanessa felt the nausea intensify. She pressed a hand to her mouth, willing herself to hold it together. But it was no use. Willow pulled over immediately. With a groan, she pushed open the car door and leaned out, retching onto the side of the road.

Willow reached over, rubbing Vanessa's back carefully.

"Ah, okay, yeah, there it is," Willow murmured softly, her heart aching for her fiancée.

Vanessa moaned softly, tears stinging her eyes as she struggled to regain control of her rebellious stomach. "I… I don't want…"

"Better out than in, Nessie," Willow said, her voice gentle but firm. She knew Vanessa hated feeling vulnerable, especially in front of her. But she also knew that sometimes, it was necessary to let it out.

Vanessa tried to comply, but her body seemed to have other plans. Wave after wave of nausea crashed over her, leaving her weak and trembling.

"Good girl, get it out," Willow murmured, offering words of encouragement as Vanessa continued to retch. She wanted to wrap her fiancée in a comforting hug, but she knew better than to risk getting too close in Vanessa's current state.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the waves of nausea began to subside. Vanessa slumped back in her seat, panting heavily, her face pale and sweaty.

Willow handed her a bottle of water and a pack of tissues, her eyes full of concern. "You okay, baby?"

Vanessa nodded weakly, accepting the water and tissues with a grateful smile. "Yeah, I think so. Just… nerves, I guess."

Willow squeezed her hand gently. "We don't have to do this if you're not up for it. Your health comes first."

But Vanessa shook her head stubbornly. "No, I'll be okay. I want to meet your family. And I wouldn't miss Walker's race for anything."

Willow smiled, her heart swelling with love for the strong, brave woman sitting beside her. "Okay then. But if you need anything, just let me know, okay?"

Vanessa nodded, a flicker of determination in her eyes. "Okay. Let's do this."

[eddiernunson]

Scoops Ahoy | A Trapped Prequel | Eddie Munson

Master List | Part 1

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Authors note: Here is a prequel to Trapped, Reader is working with Robin and Steve at Scoops Ahoy and they find out about her crush on Eddie. All wholesome vibes

Shit shit shit, you scrambled to lock your car door as your feet nearly tripped over themselves to get to work on time. It was a useless waste of energy, seeing as your watch already told you that you were five minutes late. Dodging through the busy crowds of StarCourt didn’t make the trip any easier, your feet scraping against the floor.

As you finally hit the ice cream shop a resounding “You’re late!” comes from the back from your co worker.

“I know!” You groan, your backpack juggling as you jog to swipe your card.

The shop was partially busy, a few groups of teenagers giggling their way through their single scoops of ice cream. Robin perks her head into view, organizing the stock. You give her a curt smile, not having known her very well, yet. Things were certainly less awkward with Steve around, but the shop owner rarely had the three of you all working the same shift. In today’s case Robin was opening, Steve was closing.

Only two more hours until he came in.

“Can you work front counter for now? My patience with these toddlers has vanished.” Robin pleads with you, and you had to admit, she did seem more worn out than normal. She leans forward to you. “One of them threw ice cream onto the wall. Took me ten minutes to clean it up.”

You nod, placing the stupid hat on.

The sounds of a group of teenagers making their way in. You sigh, turning to face them. “Hi guys, how can I help you?”

Samples. Of course, they wanted samples.

Typical.

-

“You know what I’ve noticed?” Robin asks you out of nowhere as you start to replace a tub of one of the flavours.

“Hmm?” You ask, placing the old flavour on the floor.

She flips through a magazine, barely paying attention to the actual words. “While Harrington strikes out over and over, you haven’t hit on anyone.” She tells you, her eyebrows furrowed as she glances to you.

“Okay. And?” You ask, putting the new tub in with a resounding thud.

“So, what’s the deal? Cause unlike him, you’ve been hit on.”

You sigh, your eyes fleeting to him. He sits in the food court, waiting, playing with a lighter in his hands absentmindedly. His forearm was red, still healing from the bats he had just gotten two weeks ago.

You knew it was two weeks ago because you had clocked the day he wondered through the food court with saran wrap around it.

You cleared your throat, barely managing to climb out of the rabbit hole you find yourself falling deeper into by the day.

“Pssht.” You dismiss her, squinting your eyes in response. “No one is hitting on me. Are you even paying attention?”

“Are you? Cause Tommy? All over you.” She answered, her eyes on the page in front of her.

“What? Tommy Hagan hasn’t even come in here.” You argue, pointedly proving her wrong.

“No, not douchebag Tommy! Tommy Miller! You know, total non jerk wad, plays on the basketball team…ring a bell?” Now that she mentions it, you did remember serving him some Rocky Road earlier. If he did flirt with you, you were too distracted to even pay attention to Tommy’s loitering at the register.

“Not really.” You tell her, and you pick up the empty tub to bring it to the trash.

“Oh, you have a boyfriend, or something?” Robin asks as you reach face to face with her in the back.

You sigh, crossing your arms and leaning onto a table right next to you. You hesitate in your answer, but you had a feeling she wouldn’t let go so easily. “Or something.”

“Oooh, so you like someone!” She lights up, drumming on the tabletop. “Who?”

You walk away from the conversation, your heart beating out of your chest. How is the new coworker the person who finds out about him first? “He doesn’t come in the ice cream shop.” You tell her, your eyes flickering to him talking to one of the jocks. It’s always a blink and you miss it exchange, and he has the movements mastered so no one picks it up. Another deal done.

“But he hangs in the mall.” Robin deducts, following closely behind you.

“Possibly.”

“Oooh.” She grins, leaning forward onto her elbows and glancing passed the glass doors toward the mall’s crowd through the window. “Any hints?”

“Nope.”

“How long have you liked them, like a week?” She asks.

“Longer.”

She squints, leaning into you. “How much longer?”

You walk away from her, starting to pick up the trash on the tables. “Just, longer.” You tell her, working around a table of an elderly couple working slowly on their cones.

“I see.”

You continue to clean the lobby, attempting to calm your heart. You glance outside again, and he’s nowhere to be seen. Oh, well he’d be back every fifteen minutes, like clockwork.

The trash is thrown out and you grab a sanitizing cloth, wiping down the Mint Chocolate Chip somehow splattered in between the seats. You look up while you work, annoyed at the elbow grease that is being required of you. Wasn’t this job supposed to be easy?

As a bead of sweat drips down your forehead, annoyed as shit You get up, barely paying attention to where you were walking when Eddie passes by the store, and your big toe collides with a chair when the passing hope of him finally making his way through the doors.

You lean forward, resting your hands against the table you stumbled into and attempting to control your breathing when you hear Robin.

“Holy shit.”

Fuck. “No. Wait. It’s not what you think.”

“So, it’s not Eddie Munson? Because that was not just a trip and stumble.”

“Fine, it is. But just let it go, ok?”

“Hey, why would I judge?” She says, putting her hands up to surrender. “You never hit anyone, and now I know why. You’re clearly into him.”

“Into who?” Steve comes from the back, having taken the secret tunnels as always.

“No one.” You tell him, giving a look to Robin.

Robin silently begs you, giving you some wide eyes as her hands plead. You shake your head at her, daring her to say something.

“Alright, whatever. Did you manage to clean out the freezer like Frank asked us to?” Steve asks, swinging his arms absentmindedly.

You brush passed him, placing the cloth still in your hands into the soiled cloths bucket. “’Fraid not, Buckley insists upon harassing me today.”

Robin smiles, a piece of information she can hold over Steve in her arsenal.

“Well, I’m gonna do the front counter. How bout you two get us caught up on the freezer?” You offer, trying to get away from them both.

“Of course, he might come in, after all.” Robin whispers under her breath, and you give her a death glare as she giggles and walks into the freezer.

“Did I miss—” Steve starts, and the both of you walk a way before he even has a chance to finish it. Steve looks up to the sky, exasperated. He literally just started his shift.

-

As much as Steve tried to pry what he had missed out of Robin, she gave nothing away. Not even the inkling that you liked someone to begin with. She knew he would find out eventually, after all, you weren’t exactly subtle about it, but she looked forward to the very day.

On one particular hot summer day, Eddie was in the food court before Robin even put out the open sign. She grinned, as she has started to pick up a pattern. If he’s there from morning, it means he’ll be all day.

Somehow Steve still hasn’t picked up on your tendencies to daze off while serving a customer or your slow pace while you mop up a spill during these specific days, but she has a feeling he’ll figure it out quite soon.

As always, her instincts are right.

You finish cashing out a customer, wishing them well as they head out the doors to the shop. You stare off to him, watching him place his long curls into a low bun, his bangs framing his face gorgeously. Somehow just the sight of it made your mouth water.

Pile it with his muscle shirt and his ripped black jeans, it was a wonder you got any work done at all.

God, you wanted to kiss him stupid.

Steve comes from the back from opening the back door for the kids yet again, scaring the living hell out of you. “You’re…a bit spacey today, huh.” He comments, leaning onto his hands on straight arms.

“That’s one word for it.” Robin says, laughing as she cleans one of the tables.

You roll your eyes, swallowing your remarkably dry throat, despite the excess drool in your mouth.

“Ooh.” Steve says as a group of pretty girls come in, bumping you by the hip to move from the cash. Your mouth drops open in bemusement, baffled by the demonstration of his desperation.

You go around him to stock the napkins. Suddenly as clear as clear can be you hear Eddie’s laugh from out the door, and he is right there. You stumble over yourself, losing the metal dispenser to the floor. The breath is stolen from your body, and you hold yourself stable, thinking this cannot be a normal reaction.

Steve witnesses your stumble as he’s scooping, signalling quickly with his eyes to see if you were okay. You smile weakly at him, nodding. Eddie’s full body laugh echoes in your mind, making something in you wish to know what made him laugh so hard.

No matter how dumb it was that he laughed at you had hoped to one day be on the receiving end of it.

You stumble over your feet to shake it out, yanking your dumb hat off as you make your way to the back to catch your breath.

Robin walks over to Steve, who is confused as to why you seemed so off. “Anything?”

“No, just The Freak and her tripping over her own feet.”

“And you think that has nothing to do with…?” She fades off, and she leaves to let Steve think it through.

An hour later, you’re on the front counter again as Steve does a bulk of replacements. You’re assisting another teenager go through every flavour for free samples. She requests a sample of Brownie Fudge, and you completely miss it, Eddie directly in front of the store, chatting as he rests his elbow on the ledge has you unable to breathe.

“Uh, hello?” She asks you, looking at her friends with a sour look on her face.

“Sorry, here you go.” Steve offers, handing it to her.

Steve glances out, again, only seeing Eddie and it all fucking clicks.

“Oh!” He says loudly, jerking his head into position.

“There it is!” Robin calls from the back, sounding outrageously excited.

The girl and her friends are put off by this entire interaction, claiming they’ll eat at DairyWorld, instead.

As soon as they left the store, for once the booths were emptied, Steve cannot hold it in any longer. “You’ve been crushing on Eddie the Freak Munson?” He asks, finally understanding why Robin has been so eager to tell him.

“He’s not a freak,” the sentence left your mouth before you could stop it.

“So, that’s a yes.” Fuck.

“She won’t even talk about it.” Robin commented, leaning on the counter with one hand on her hip.

“Didn’t think he was her type.” Steve says crossing his arms.

“You’re one to talk about type.” Robin huffs out. “You dated Nancy Wheeler of all people, the Priss herself.”

Your eyes widen at the unearned sass given to Nancy’s first and last name. “I’d be careful with that.” Steve warns her.

“Why, cause you dated her?”

“No, cause,” he clicks his tongue, pointing his thumb towards you, “they’ve been friends for years, and their families, even longer.”

“What?”

You shrug, it’s the truth.

Robin seems to get over it quick enough. “I’ve only noticed last week but she won’t tell me how long she’s liked him for.”

“Fine. It’s …” you finish the sentence under your breath, the words coming out jumbled.

“What?”

“Two and a half years…” You say again, just a little louder.

“Huh?”

“Two and a half years. I’ve liked him for two years, okay?”

“Whoa.” Robin gasps, her eyes wide.

Steve lets out a chuckle. “Damn. I liked Nance for about a week until I asked her out.”

“I know it’s pathetic, ok?” You ask, retreating to the back of the shop. They follow you, both rushing to clarify their reactions. “I could do with out the external confirmations, thank you very much.”

“Hello?” Somone calls out from the front counter, waiting to be served.

“In a minute!” Steve barks out. “Honestly, it’s almost endearing.”

“Almost?” You ask him, intrigued by the specification.

“Hey, take what you can get, you stalker.”

“Stalker?”

“How often does he make deals?”

“Every ten to fifteen minutes.”

“See?”

He had you, there.

-

As you punch your card out for your break, Steve is leaning over the counter, absentmindedly reading one of Robin’s magazines and Robin as distractedly restocking. It wasn’t much of a day and despite your numerous peeks, it appears that Eddie wasn’t making an appearance. However your mood rises when you see him regularly, knowing he wasn’t in the mall helped you relax somewhat.

You make your way down the escalator, observing different vendors to decide to eat from. Finally, you pick a spot, somewhere you found yourself floating to on a regular basis.

You stand in line, the line moving agonizingly slow, thinking by the time you will get your order your break will already be mostly done. You only got thirty minutes, after all. You wanted to spend at least five of them off your feet.

You’re now second in line to the register, finding the strength not to be annoyed about how this one customer had decided to order takeout for her whole family and you literally just wanted number 28 for the millionth time.

Your eyes are zoned out on the menu when someone bumps into you from behind, and you turn around to see who the hell you needed to shoot your annoyed glance at when the breath is stolen from your lungs.

Eddie.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry.” He tells you having bumped into you backwards, a friend of his you presumed from Hellfire standing across from you also offering an apology from pushing him into you.

Your brain begs you to speak, to say something. Nothing will come out. You nod to him, implying it was ok.

Eddie’s face breaks into a half smile, and there’s a moment of what you think is recognition on his face when one of the guys he’s been hanging with calls him over.

“Hello? Next, please!” The food vendor calls you, and you have to turn away from Eddie jogging away from you, your breathing shallow, and your heartbeat in your throat.

You beg yourself to calm down enough to order the food but your appetite has seemed to have mysteriously disappeared.

-

Eddie wasn’t around the mall very much until the following Friday.

In a stroke of luck, according to Steve, at least, all three of you were working that late June afternoon.

For some reason, Eddie was in your head deeper than ever, and the distractions he was providing was causing all too much chaos.

Steve and Robin insist you stay on cash, and you’re sure it’s because you keep fumbling around. Really, it’s because Steve and Robin have been keeping a tally on how many times they catch you staring wistfully at him.

The dopey smile on your face as you watched him made Steve question how he had ever missed it. Robin points to the tally for Steve remaining above yours. “You’re a doofus.”

Just once, you had hoped that he would have a craving for ice cream, but it just didn’t seem to happen. Instead, he galivanted between dealing in the middle of the food court and several areas of the mall. You had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time you would be stuck watching from afar, and honestly that masochistic part didn’t mind.

As long as you could still see him.

You swiped your card out, ignoring Steve’s teasing as you tossed your backpack over your shoulder, taking the hit.

Something Steve never told you, however, was that five minutes after you walked out that day Eddie stumbled into the store. “Harrington.” Eddie greets, a smirk on his face.

“Munson.”

“I’ve been wanting ice cream for like an hour, so I’ll get a three scoop of Triple Chocolate Chunk.” He hands Steve a 20, and Steve spends too much time internally laughing at the irony of it.

And as Eddie takes his time with the ice cream, enjoying each scoop of the spoon with a little too much fervour, Steve is damn glad you missed it because he would’ve been scraping you off the floor.

When Robin comes in for a mid-shift for once, Steve is all too excited to share the happenings of the previous night. Robin’s eyes widen, and it is understood that neither one of them will tell you, if anything for your own good.

-

“Wait, so you worked at Scoops, at the mall?” Eddie asked one night, sitting across from you on a couch as a movie played in the background.

Your legs are entangled, you eating ice cream out of a Ben&Jerry’s pint. “Yep.”

“Huh.” Eddie laughs without humour.

“What?”

“I never saw you when I went in, only Buckley and Harrington.” He tells you, licking his spoon absentmindedly.

“Wait, what?” You ask, sitting up quickly to get the story straight.

“Yeah. I went in after long days of dealing all the time for some triple chocolate, usually had the whole shop to myself.” Your face must’ve fallen at this, cause he looks to you in concern. “What?”

“I-I just used to watch you when I worked there. I hoped one day you would want some ice cream and it would be my shot at finally saying something to you.” Eddie’s head tilts at this, smiling at you endearingly. “And yet I was never there when you came in. God, that’s ironic. And maddening”

“I mean. Maybe fate wanted to wait until I could lick the ice cream off you instead of the spoon.” He says, his eyes darkening as he licks his silver spoon.

You smirk at him, your mouth watering, and this time, you can give in to the want of kissing him stupid, which is exactly what you did, the cool of the ice cream you continued to eat earning the whimpers out of his mouth and satisfying that girl that once drooled over his exposed neck.

-

Reblogs and comments are so appreciated, thanks!

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[salty-professor]

You should know this already

So, I have several degrees. This isn't a humble brag. It is what is required to teach in Higher Ed. I did the work. I earned the degrees. I was a student over and over and I learned and I learned so that I could, one day, like say, today, impart my knowledge to a student who wishes to learn from me. Maybe not me per se but someone like me. Someone who is an expert in a particular field who can help people become better at something.

This is the job I do. This is the job I just did ten minutes before I sat down to write this. I have a student who is riding the struggle bus at the moment with this unit's concepts. To help out, I've spoken to her, met with her virtually, chatted with her on the phone, and today, replied with a detailed email.

I have the privilege to do my job, but I worked my ass off and made huge mistakes along the way and now, here I am, in the Ivory Tower, trying to take it apart bit by bit so that it can be built again, stronger than before.

I teach. That is what I do. I've said it before and I'll say it again. I am a professor who doesn't profess. I teach. I like to actually find out what my students need and I work with them to crack the code. Does it take more time? Yeah. It does. Is it the right thing to do? I mean, I guess it depends on each person who sits on my side of the desk, but I think this is the job.

A few things drive me crazy about my colleagues. OK. Way more than a few. I wrote a whole book about it because my list is so long. I should say ONE of the things that drives me crazy is when one of them says to a student "You should know this already."

For those who have never been insulted with this bullshit line, here is what it sounds like.

Student: Um...Professor Fuckhead, I am really struggling with subject/verb agreement. You keep telling me that I am doing it wrong, but I just don't really get what you are saying. Professor Fuckhead: That was something you should have learned in elementary school at best or middle school at worst. I don't have time for that. I'm not teaching you English, I'm teaching you how to write effectively.

Yeah, so, Professor Fuckhead isn't wrong about a lot of that, BUT, he should take a few minutes to help out. He totally has the time. The class only meets 2.5 hours per week. All kinds of fucking time. Beside, the fact remains the student doesn't know it and s/he/y is asking for help. So, it is Fuckhead's fucking job to help. I'm not suggesting that Fuckhead needs to set up private tutoring sessions for this struggling student, but the internet is vast and the resources are free.

If it were me, I would say something like:

Page 22 in the free handbook I send you all on day one of the class should give you a lot of insight. Also, Grammar Girl has some excellent videos and resources that can help you refresh your skills. Let's look at a few instances in your writing where you are doing it wrong and then you can look at the resources and you can try to find the others in your paper. I'm not going to fix them for you, but I will show you how you can fix them.

I didn't shame the student. I didn't put up a wall. I didn't do the work for h/er/m either. I gave some help. I showed the student how to fix the problem and shared some resources because, yes, the student should know this already. This is college BUT s/he/y is struggling.

I know I can pass the course I am teaching. That is sort of the point of getting all the degrees. At some point, someone with more degrees than me took a moment to explain things to me that I didn't know even if I "should" have known it.

The world is big and our brains are stuffed with a lot of shit. I know that Brian May is both a rock god AND an astrophysicist. Is that helpful? No. Could I have used that mental space to remember something someone taught me when I was 9? Maybe.

Instead, I listened to Queen and then I asked a question of someone who knew more than me and while I was told on many occasions by Professor Fuckhead that I should know that already, thankfully, I had plenty of teachers who decided to take five minutes to help me out. Seems only right that I pay that forward.

#educationisaright

[doctorofmagic]

TW: racism, antiziganism, whitewashing, uses of g slur, fatphobia, misgendering, ageism, toxic fandom, long post.

This post is a bit off topic but, as someone who has been following Marvel’s comic book industry for almost ten years now, I feel like it’s my duty to use my voice and not be quiet about the blatant shit show that is happening to a character that is also a member of the magic community and has been suffering a lot lately in the hands of people who have little to no regard towards her heritage.

It was just a rumor back then (and Donny Cates even denied it in the past) but it does seem that Feige is using the MCU to influence comic books in most recent runs, ESPECIALLY regarding certain characters.

Now, let’s be honest. This is not new. We all remember when the cast of the Fantastic Four reboot died in a explosion in the pages of Punisher #12, eight years ago. A clear retaliation at the movie and FOX’s terrible decisions. We all know that this is probably the reason why the first family book was cancelled as well. The group remained in the shadows and only Reed had a decent spotlight thanks to New Avengers v3 and Secret Wars, disappearing next along with Sue, the kids and the Future Foundation. They only returned fully with a new volume in 2018, and most fans’ dreams and hopes slowly died out with Dan Slott’s bad takes and writing (erasing Franklin’s X gene, putting three women to fight over a man, reversing Infamous Doom to his villain self and throwing away his character development just because he wanted Victor as a villain etc etc etc).

Very well. Still, the FF survived. No one reversed Galactus into a cosmic cloud. No one turned Victor into a metallic guy with electric powers who wanted to marry Sue (thank the Vishanti). And whatever happened in the reboot (which I didn’t watch) certainly wasn’t adapted into comics.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not here to gatekeep comic books. In fact, I’ve been committed to introducing them to my followers since day 1 on this hellsite. Unlike many fans, I didn’t grow up with them. Movies had a huge influence on me and I had a long journey. Movies and animated TV shows are part of the reason I dove into this universe, in the first place. Which is fine. I can take a bad adaption and move on.

What I can’t take is what they’re trying to do with Wanda, because it reeks of racism.

The whole point of this new Wanda volume is to give her the proper representation and atone for the years of colorism, a systematic problem that keeps happening in the industry. Just because she was portrayed as white in the past, it doesn’t mean she’s not a woc, especially when it’s said in canon that she has dark skin. There are plenty of roma people talking on this matter and how it’s meaningful to acknowledge that Wanda is brown, even when white roma people exist (1, 2, 3, 4).

The crew is in fact very committed to it, as stated by Steve Orlando here:

Now, what is happening to the new Scarlet Witch volume? Two things. The blatant whitewashing in variant covers and their need to push the MCU into 616!Wanda, first by introducing Darcy and now deaging Agatha.

Let’s be clear. There was a MASSIVE effort from the team to portray Wanda's heritage, which has been constantly dismissed by the lack of effort from the artists.

Here’s one example, from Jeehyung Lee, tracing what I think is a k-pop singer (but I don't really remember her name so correct me if I’m wrong). In any case, she was traced over a korean woman. This is not the first problem with this artist since he also made the same with Storm’s model in MFF by tracing Charlize Theron over Ororo.

In addition to anti-blackness, this is also an issue of interchangeable ethnicity, the same that happened to America Chavez, when she’s established as Puerto Rican, not Mexican, as the pin on her jacket suggests (and yes, her cast is also filled with anti-blackness. Nothing against Xochitl, but I touched this matter before when I wrote about DSIMOM. And yes, TAO’s MCU is also bad, very bad, very very very bad).

I just keep seeing this over and over again. You shouldn't be defending her whiteness. You *SHOULDN'T*. Unless you have a problem that Wanda is a brown romani woman. It’s imperative that people understand that representation matters and poc have been time and time whitewashed in this very same industry (Sunspot/Roberto da Costa is just one example and was also whitewashed in that terrible New Mutants adaptation).

The issue here is to push a problematic and harmful portrayal of Wanda on her comic book version. And it’s only happening to her due to the popularity of said character and artist.

More thant that, her stans ARE using Olsen’s Wanda to shield racism. Some of you are actually not even hiding it. The following is a list of racist comments and accounts. I’ll leave them under the cut in case people don’t want to see it.

Regarding the WV variant cover for Wanda #3 by David Nakamura:

And plain racism overall:

On a side note...

Just today I was harassed by this troll here. And no, I’m not hiding your @ because you went to MY post and felt compelled to misgender me, be fatphobic and also god knows why felt entitled to call Wanda ableist (????)

As I said, I didn’t grow up with comics. When I first met Wanda, I didn’t know she was neither Roma, Jewish or brown. And this itself is a problem because it should be clear, it should have been portrayed in the comics, it should have been common knowledge. All it takes is just to listen to people and understand the systematic racism and whitewashing in the comic book and cinema industries.

They ALWAYS double down on Wanda’s whiteness. No, darling, it’s not okay to stan two versions of the same character when time and time the marginalized one is a target of racism. When they weaponize every single attempt at calling out the harm that MCU has caused on her character to the point of even using reverse racism, ableism and many other blatant lies to slander 616!Wanda, when her MCU can do pretty much whatever she wishes because she’s white so that’s okay. And don’t even dare bring feminism here because you don’t care about woc. You only care about white women.

In any case, I just want to shed light on this matter because this effort of pushing MCU into comics isn’t happening to any other Marvel character, ESPECIALLY when the change is for the better. Wong is powerful, body-positive and having more than one-dimensional relationship in the MCU. Where’s the effort to do that in comics? Layla is literally the best part of Moon Knight. Where is she?

Why they want so bad to push a white woman on a book that is supposed to praise Wanda’s romani heritage? It’s obvious that they want to sell and some execs are siding with the portion of this toxic and racist fandom.

Comics are not perfect, we know that. But there has been a huge effort to support the marginalized voices in this industry. Marvel’s Voices, pride and heritage are all examples. Besides, they’ve always been political. Always.

What they’re doing to Wanda is evil and lazy. As an artist and colorist, it’s YOUR DUTY to search and at least be aware of what characters you’re trying to conceive. There’s no way variant artists didn’t see the main cover for issue #1 by Dauterman.

This is not just ignorance. It’s a statement. A statement that it’s okay to ignore a marginalized group and its attempt to give visibility to said group. And Orlando knew that when he said he didn’t have control over the rest of the creative team.

It’s fine if the MCU wants to push some elements like they did in the past. But this is not just any element. It’s harmful and I’ll not be quiet about it. 616!Wanda is getting more and more marginalized, whereas her whitewashed version is praised and loved. And now there’s an attempt at reconciling both as if it was okay. It’s not. MCU!Wanda doesn’t know racism. MCU!Wanda joined Hydra. MCU!Wanda has the privilege 616!Wanda could never afford for being a brown roma woman. And now the racist fandom wants to claim both in order to erase 616!Wanda’s heritage and history of fighting racism.

All I can ask is, if you’re buying this comic book, DO NOT SUPPORT the variant covers. Let them rot. We know the racists are not supporting the book anyways. They’ll just buy the variant cover and that’s it.

PS: I’m not Roma so feel free to correct me in any aspect. Just using my voice to boost awareness.

PS²: Olsen stans DNI or else will be blocked at sight. I’m done with every single of you.