#this is exactly what I needed to see thank you OP

[aller-geez]

Live, Laugh, Lose Consciousness

written & illustrated by: allergeez 🖤

Wow, geezie can write fics that AREN’T Remi or Vaelyn? I know, I’m shocked too. "૮₍ ˶•⤙•˶ ₎ა saw @mew31 ‘s prompt (found here) and after a lovely anon encouraged me, (love you, Nonny 🖤) this fic was born. 4.3K words with a follow up fic in progress already..... @thekinkyleopard owns Elex 🖤

The stream started like any other—well, mostly. S7en leaned back in his chair, rubbing one eye with the heel of his palm as his other hand clicked through his usual startup routine. His teal and orange hair was a little more ruffled than usual, sticking up in odd places like he’d just rolled out of bed five minutes before going live. Which, to be fair, he had.

The camera feed flickered on, revealing his usual setup: LED-lit walls casting a dim glow over his desk, a collection of figures and posters crammed haphazardly onto shelves in the background, and of course, the telltale flick of his fluffy orange tail behind him. Normally, it swayed lazily or curled in satisfaction when he was vibing, but tonight it twitched with silent irritation. Not that he acknowledged it.

S7en dragged his mic closer, exhaling through his nose before finally addressing chat.

"Alright, you motherfuckers, 1Shot9Lives here and we’re live," he muttered, voice slightly raspier than usual as he adjusted his headset. He didn’t give the change much thought. Probably just needed water. Or caffeine. Maybe both.

He clicked through a few things on his second monitor, setting up the game as his chat flooded in with their usual chaos. "We’re playing Ghost’s Gambit today because—uh, because I said so. Also, Elex bailed on our co-op stream last second, so everyone bully him when you see him."

The messages scrolled at lightning speed.

[MOD] REXBURN: u sound like shit dude

VOIDGREMLIN: bro did u sleep at all

STYXORRI: uhhh yeah S7en u good?

CATTITUDE69: u look kinda rough tonight lmao

S7en rolled his eyes, clearing his throat sharply before speaking again. "I always sound like shit, thanks. That’s my brand.” He sniffled for dramatic effect, shooting a look at chat before continuing. "Y’all need to chill. I’m fine. Let’s start."

And that was that. He powered through, ignoring the mild scratch at the back of his throat, the slight congestion creeping into his words. It was nothing. Just one of those days where talking felt rough. Nothing new.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

For a while, things went smoothly. He played through the first section of the game, making sarcastic commentary about the haunted mansion’s ridiculously dramatic soundtrack and the protagonist’s questionable life choices. But every few minutes, he had to pause to clear his throat or take a sip of his drink. The rasp in his voice wasn’t going away—it was getting worse.

Chat, of course, noticed.

GHOSTBEE: ur voice is actually breaking dude

LOSTLAMB: are u dying or

[MOD] REXBURN: drink water. now.

S7en squinted at the chat, then at his can of soda. Technically, that was liquid. Good enough. He took a swig, wincing as the carbonation stung the rawness in his throat.

He barely acknowledged chat’s growing concern, too focused on the game—or at least, that’s what he wanted them to think. In reality, he was starting to feel it. That creeping, telltale tightness in his throat, the way his words felt just slightly too rough, like they were catching on sandpaper. He swallowed, grimacing at the lingering scratch, and reached for his drink again.

But carbonation and a sore throat? Not exactly a winning combination. The first sip stung enough to make him wince, and he had to bite back a cough. He set the can down with a little more force than necessary, shaking his head. "Geezus. That was a mistake."

VOIDGREMLIN: u good there, my guy?

CATTITUDE69: literally why do u drink soda when ur voice is dying lmao

[MOD] REXBURN: I SAID WATER. WATER, DUMBASS.

S7en rolled his eyes but still didn’t move to grab anything else. Instead, he cleared his throat again—harder this time—forcing his voice back to something more manageable. "I said relax. My voice is just doing that thing where it sounds like I’ve been chain-smoking for forty years. It’s fine."

It wasn’t fine.

He knew it wasn’t fine.

His throat felt tight, raw, and somehow both dry and congested at the same time. His sinuses had started to ache—not enough to be distracting yet, but enough to be annoying. He exhaled sharply through his nose, sniffling once before refocusing on the screen.

But chat wasn’t about to let it go.

STYXORRI: Uhhhh u sound worse than u did 10 min ago???

GHOSTBEE: Does this man even have a water bottle? Blink twice if you’re being held hostage by your own bad decisions.

VOIDGREMLIN: definitely getting sick lol

S7en scoffed, dragging a hand down his face. "Okay, first of all? Rude. Second of all?—" He cut himself off with another sharp sniff, his nose twitching slightly. A brief pause, his brows pulling together like he was trying to focus on something just out of reach. Then he suddenly turned his head, breath catching in a sharp, desperate inhale.

"Hh—! Hhh! HAHPT’tschiew!! HAH! AHHDT’shiiiiew!"

The sneezes snapped him forward, harsh and congested, forcing him to duck his head into his arm at the last second. He stayed there for a beat, sniffling, before straightening up with a heavy sigh.

Chat immediately lost it.

STYXORRI: OH HE’S GONE

VOIDGREMLIN: LMAO THAT WAS WET AS HELL

[MOD] REXBURN: fucking called it. called it.

CATTITUDE69: lmao he sneezes like an anime girl

S7en groaned, rubbing a knuckle under his nose as he sniffled again. "Okay, fuck you guys. That was—ugh—that was nothin’."

Another sniff. Another irritated twitch of his nose.

Yeah. This was definitely not nothin’.

S7en barely had time to blink before his breath caught again, his whole body tensing as another sneeze clawed its way to the surface. He gasped—sharp and desperate, his head tipping back slightly before he was wrenched forward once more.

“Hh! HHhih—! HAHDT’tchhhiiew! Hhh! AHHDT’tsschueh!!”

The force of it practically shook his frame, leaving him momentarily dazed as he blinked blearily at his screen. His ears flattened slightly, tail flicking behind him in a telltale sign of irritation—whether at himself or chat, he wasn’t sure.

And chat? Chat was feral.

VOIDGREMLIN: HOLY SHIT

CATTITUDE69: BRO U GOOD?

STYXORRI: this is the sickest catboy streamer arc we’ve ever seen

[MOD] REXBURN: called it AGAIN. y’all owe me money.

S7en groaned dramatically, scrubbing at his nose with the heel of his hand. It did nothing. If anything, the congestion just laughed at his attempt at relief, settling even deeper in his sinuses like it had set up camp there permanently. He sniffled, but it was weak, ineffective. The sheer stuffiness was making his voice even raspier when he finally muttered, "You guys are the worst."

GHOSTBEE: says the guy actively sneezing himself into an early grave on stream

VOIDGREMLIN: honestly impressive at this point

CATTITUDE69: u literally sound like a dying cartoon character lmfao

S7en exhaled sharply through his nose—immediately regretting it when the movement made his breath hitch again. “Oh, fuck m—hhHh!—me.”

His hands barely got up in time before he was thrown into another sudden, wrenching sneeze.

"HH’AHPT’TSSCHIIEW!!"

The force of it made his shoulders jerk violently, ears flattening even more as he sniffled miserably into his sleeve. His brain felt like it had short-circuited. He blinked a few times, dazed, before shooting chat an exhausted, half-lidded glare. "This is your fault, by the way."

[MOD] REXBURN: how the fuck is this OUR fault

GHOSTBEE: yeah bro I don’t remember being the one rolling around in a pile of pollen or whatever the fuck u did to yourself

STYXORRI: nah he just has the immune system of a wet paper bag

VOIDGREMLIN: get wrecked, nerd

S7en opened his mouth, fully prepared to snap back at chat, but the sharp inhale that followed cut him off completely. His breath hitched—quick, frantic gasps pulling his chest upward as his nostrils flared helplessly. He was on the precipice, teetering on the edge of release, his head already tilting back as his body prepared for the inevitable.

And then—nothing.

The sensation fizzled out entirely, leaving him stranded in the worst possible limbo. His nose twitched furiously, a cruel, lingering tickle buzzing deep in his sinuses like static electricity with no release in sight. His breath wavered once more, teasing at another attempt, only to leave him stuck in place, helpless and miserable.

Chat immediately exploded.

CATTITUDE69: oh my god he’s stuck

STYXORRI: SOMEONE PUT HIM OUT OF HIS MISERY

VOIDGREMLIN: bro buffering like a dial-up connection

[MOD] REXBURN: this is just embarrassing now

S7en let out a strangled groan, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes in pure frustration. "I hate you all," he muttered, voice thick with congestion, but the heat crawling up his neck betrayed the way chat’s relentless teasing was getting to him.

He sniffled, thick and wet, scrubbing at his nose with the side of his hand in a fruitless attempt to banish the stubborn tickle. His fluffy tail flicked behind himk in irritation, but he quickly straightened up and forced a nonchalant shrug, trying to redirect the focus back to literally anything else.

"Anyway!" he rasped, voice still wrecked, but he powered through, picking up his controller again like nothing had happened. "We’re not gonna sit here and analyze my respiratory system, alright? Let’s get back to me carrying this game—since we all know I’m cracked as hell, even while dying."

He pressed a button to unpause, but his nose twitched again, a rapid series of sniffles betraying him before he could fully recover. Chat was still absolutely losing it, and he knew—he knew—they weren’t going to let him live this down.

For a while, he managed to power through. His fingers moved on autopilot across the controller, leading his character through dimly lit hallways and flickering candlelit rooms, his voice providing commentary—albeit raspier and more strained than usual. He made sure to keep the energy up, even as he had to stop every couple of minutes to sniffle or swipe a knuckle under his nose.

If he ignored it, it wasn’t happening. That was the rule.

But his throat was starting to itch. Not just a little tickle, not just something he could clear away—it was deep, an irritating scratch that no amount of swallowing or subtle throat-clearing could shake.

Still, he tried.

"Ahem." He coughed lightly into his fist, barely audible over the game’s ominous soundtrack.

Chat noticed immediately.

VOIDGREMLIN: bro you’re actually falling apart rn

GHOSTBEE: is it me or is he literally getting worse every five minutes

CATTITUDE69: cough once if you’re dying, cough twice if ur in denial

[MOD] REXBURN: just grab some water before you get stuck like that forever

S7en rolled his eyes, but his ears gave him away. The orange, tufted tips had started to sag, drooping ever so slightly as the irritation in his sinuses and throat mounted. He sniffled sharply, forcing himself to sit up a little straighter as if better posture would somehow help.

"Y’all are dramatic," he muttered, his voice definitely dipping further into hoarseness, but he just forced a cough and kept playing.

The itch in his throat lingered. It crept deeper, settling into his chest like a slow burn, and he knew—he knew—that if he wasn’t careful, he was gonna start coughing for real. He muttered another useless, half-hearted cough, barely suppressing a grimace when it rattled weakly in his lungs.

God, his eyes were getting blurry.

His vision kept swimming, the words on screen harder to focus on as his slitted pupils narrowed in an attempt to adjust. He blinked quickly, rubbing at his face with the palm of his hand to chase away the moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes.

He knew the solution. He just really didn’t want to grab his damn glasses.

It wasn’t even about comfort—they just made him look nerdy, and not in a cool, hot-guy-who-reads way, but in an I’m-an-insufferable-know-it-all way. Not a look he was going for.

Still, his ears flicked back, half-pinned against his head as he tried to ignore the way his vision kept going fuzzy around the edges.

This was fine. Totally fine.

He just had to hold out a little longer.

S7en blinked hard, rubbing at his temple with the heel of his hand as the dull ache behind his eyes slowly tightened its grip. His brightly lit screen wasn’t helping. The artificial glow pressed against his already blurry vision, and he caught himself squinting just to make out the text at the bottom of the screen. His ears twitched, then flicked backward slightly in irritation.

Still, he kept his usual energy up.

“Well, this guy’s an idiot,” he quipped as his in-game character opened a door that was very obviously a trap. “Yeah, lemme just step into the most ominous room possible, what could possibly go wrong—OH okay, yep, cool, immediate ghost attack. Love that.”

Chat scrolled fast, a mix of reactions ranging from LMAOOO to we tried to warn you to bro is squinting so hard right now, grab the damn glasses.

S7en ignored them.

He wasn’t even in that bad of shape, really. Sure, his throat felt like sandpaper and his nose was definitely trying to ruin his night, but he’d gotten through worse. He just needed to push through a little longer, keep the energy up, keep—

CLOUDHOPPER24: DUDE, hop on ESO, let’s run some dungeons.

S7en scoffed. “Yeah, no—”

STYXORRI: WAIT YES ESO TIME

VOIDGREMLIN: oh my god yes dungeon run let’s goooo

GHOSTBEE: don’t be lame get in nerd

[MOD] REXBURN: you’re outnumbered bro, just give in

S7en huffed, dragging a hand down his face before reluctantly exhaling through his nose. He already knew there was no getting out of this. The second chat got attached to an idea, they latched onto it like leeches.

"Fine,” he sighed, feigning great suffering as he exited his current game. “But if we’re playing ESO, I have to get my glasses or I’m not gonna be able to read shit.”

Chat didn’t seem to mind…

CATTITUDE69: GLASSES ARC LET’S GOOOOO

VOIDGREMLIN: nerdification incoming

STYXORRI: I REPEAT WE ARE ENTERING THE GLASSES ERA

He rolled his eyes but smirked slightly, peeling his headset off and pushing his chair back from the desk.

Before stepping away, he quickly pressed the mute button on his mic—at least, he thought he did.

His nose was still running. He sniffled thickly, pressing the heel of his palm against his septum before finally giving in and grabbing a tissue from the box on his desk. He tried to be discreet, turning away slightly as he blew his nose, but the sound was way thicker and wetter than he anticipated—loud, congested, a full-on mess.

And apparently, his sinuses were not ready to be cleared out all at once.

A maddening itch flared to life deep inside his nasal passages, raw and unrelenting. His breath caught, his chest stuttering through sharp, gasping build-ups as the sneeze took its time wrecking him.

“Hhh—! HhhAHH—! HAHDT’tchhhiew!! Hhh! AHHDT’tschhhiu!!"

The force rocked him forward, leaving him dazed for half a second before the itch surged right back up.

"Hhh! HAH—hhAHDT'shhiiew!!"

He sniffled hard, rubbing his nose roughly with his palm before finally slumping forward against the desk, exhaling sharply. God, that was miserable. But at least it was out.

Clearing his throat, he shook his head, grabbed his glasses from the shelf, and finally slid back into his chair. He adjusted the frames on his nose, pressed the power button on the monitor—

—and was immediately greeted by absolute chaos in the chat.

S7en’s brain took a solid three seconds to process what he was looking at.

The chat was moving so fast it was practically a blur. His orange ears twitched, then pressed flat against his head as he stiffened in realization.

CLOUDHOPPER24: BROOO WE HEARD ALL OF THAT

VOIDGREMLIN: THAT WAS UNHOLY

GHOSTBEE: unmute challenge (failed)

[MOD] REXBURN: you absolute dumbass.

CATTITUDE69: I THOUGHT HE WAS GONNA DIE FOR A SECOND LMAOOO

STYXORRI: new ringtone just dropped

S7en blinked.

“…What?”

That was all he could manage.

VOIDGREMLIN: LMAOOOO HE DOESN’T KNOW

STYXORRI: MY GUY. MY DUDE. YOU LEFT YOUR MIC ON.

GHOSTBEE: THE WHOLE THING. LIVE. UNFILTERED. IN HD.

[MOD] REXBURN: chat has been enlightened by the ancient knowledge of your waifu-esque sneezes.

S7en paled. His hand shot up to check his mic settings, only for his stomach to drop when he saw it. The mute button was still unpressed.

No.No. No. No.

Slowly, he turned his gaze back to chat, his tail flicking erratically behind him.

“…You guys heard that?…”

STYXORRI: YUP.

CLOUDHOPPER24: EVERY SINGLE SECOND.

VOIDGREMLIN: including the part where you DIED midway through the buildup

CATTITUDE69: top ten tragic anime deaths

GHOSTBEE: bro got done in by his own sinuses

[MOD] REXBURN: bro you took, like, a FULL ten seconds to die

S7en groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “Oh, my god.”

He was never going to live this down.

His head thunked against the desk in pure, unfiltered misery. “This is literally the worst day of my life,” he muttered into the woodgrain, voice muffled.

STYXORRI: no, this is the best day of OUR lives

VOIDGREMLIN: actual best content we’ve ever gotten from you, 10/10

CATTITUDE69: sneeze tier list when

GHOSTBEE: top ten streams that changed history

S7en groaned again, lifting his head just enough to glare at his screen. His nose twitched, still red and visibly irritated.

“You’re all the worst,” he sniffled, rubbing his knuckles under his nose as he slumped back in his chair. “Swear to god, I could die on stream and you’d just clip it.”

[MOD] REXBURN: correct.

CLOUDHOPPER24: exactly. that’s what the clip button is for.

STYXORRI: ‘local streamer perishes in real time, audience eats popcorn’

VOIDGREMLIN: ‘thoughts and prayers (clipped for later)’

S7en huffed, shaking his head as he reached for his controller, ears still half-flattened in lingering embarrassment. “Remind me why I stream, again?” he grumbled, clicking through the ESO title screen.

But even as chat continued to roast him mercilessly, he couldn’t quite stop the tiny, amused smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips.

S7en settled into his chair, rolling his shoulders back in an attempt to shake off the stiffness creeping into his muscles. The chat scrolled rapidly beside him, a chaotic mix of mocking comments, dramatic sympathy, and the occasional unsolicited health advice. He skimmed over it absently, only half-registering the words as he adjusted his headset.

“Alright, alright, let’s get this over with,” he muttered, loading into the game. His voice was rougher now, a rasping undertone slipping in that hadn’t been there at the start of the stream. He cleared his throat sharply, but it only aggravated the scratchiness, sending a brief, irritated shudder down his spine.

The dungeon queue popped, and as the loading screen flickered, he exhaled slowly through his nose, trying to steady himself. It didn’t help. His sinuses were a mess of static, an unbearable, crawling sensation burrowing deep behind his septum. He pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, willing the feeling away, but it only grew stronger, teasing at the edges of his control.

The dungeon started, and S7en forced himself to refocus. He tightened his grip on the controller and sent his character charging into battle—only to immediately regret it. His timing was off. His dodges felt sluggish. His fingers barely seemed to respond to his brain’s commands. He sniffled sharply, but even that felt like it took effort.

This was fine.

He could push through.

Except—he was already pushing too hard. And his body? It was beginning to push back.

His fingers fumbled over the controls, barely registering the vibrations in the controller as his character staggered from another mistimed dodge. The edges of his vision blurred slightly, the bright colors of the game screen bleeding together, making it harder to track what was happening. The chat continued to roll, but he could only make out scattered words between the rising noise in his head—something about him playing like shit, a few half-serious “get well soon” messages, and Rexar demanding he take a damn break.

S7en ignored them.

Or, at least, he tried to.

The static in his sinuses had evolved into something sharper, a deep, pulsing itch winding its way from the bridge of his nose down into his throat, clawing at his lungs. He sucked in a careful breath through his mouth, but it only made the irritation worse, sending a raw prickle skittering down his airways. His ears twitched in frustration before flattening again, his tail curling tightly against the back of his chair.

“hHh—! hh—! HAHHDT’tchhIEEW!!”

The sneeze tore through him without warning, snapping him forward so fast his headphones nearly slipped from his head. He barely had time to catch his breath before another struck—"HhHAPTT’tchhiEW!!"—leaving him dazed, blinking against the sudden dampness in his eyes.

A quick glance at chat told him all he needed to know. They were already losing their minds.

“Dude, shut up,” he croaked, scrubbing a sleeve under his nose before sniffing sharply, only to regret it immediately when his breath hitched again. He groaned, dropping his forehead against the edge of his desk, gripping the controller weakly in one hand.

This was bad.

His head was thick with congestion, the weight of exhaustion settling into his limbs like lead. Every movement felt sluggish, every blink heavier than the last. He sniffled again, but it barely did anything, his sinuses clogged beyond saving.

S7en was losing it.

Not just in the game—though, yeah, that too—but in general.

His entire body felt like it was made of damp cement, each movement slower than the last. His reactions were sluggish, his dodges mistimed, his attacks weak. He knew he should have been moving—ESO dungeon bosses weren’t that hard—but every time he tried to focus, his head swam, a dull, pulsing ache pressing against the backs of his eyes like someone had wedged cotton into his skull.

His ears remained half-down, twitching every so often when the congestion shifted in his sinuses. He was hyper-aware of everything—the scratchy dryness spreading through his throat, the constant, prickling tickle that bloomed behind his nose and refused to either build or dissipate, the way his nostril chain swayed whenever he sniffled, brushing against the irritated skin of his nose and making everything so much worse—

He was also hyper-aware of chat absolutely clowning on him for standing in yet another AoE.

VOIDGREMLIN: bro. MOVE.

STYXORRI: S7EN. YOU ARE LITERALLY DYING.

CLOUDHOPPER24: I’ve never seen someone eat this much damage in my life.

GHOSTBEE: watching him tank this boss like he’s a healer main is making me sweat.

[MOD] REXBURN: you are getting bullied in a video game. please pull it together.

S7en sniffled, slumping forward slightly in his chair as his character hit the floor again. His hand lifted sluggishly, rubbing at his pink-rimmed nostrils with the back of his hand before his tail flicked in frustration.

“Tch… shut the fuck up, you all suck so much dick it’s not even funny.” he muttered, voice rough and hoarse. He cleared his throat again, trying to chase away the itch, but all that did was send him into a brief fit of unproductive, breathless coughs.

The chat immediately jumped on him.

CATTITUDE69: nuh UH what was that.

VOIDGREMLIN: ?? HELLO??

STYXORRI: sir. sir you are literally dying live on air.

[MOD] REXBURN: LOG OFF.

S7en ignored them, waving a lazy hand at the screen as he tried—and failed—to get his character back to the fight in time. His vision blurred slightly, and he blinked hard, trying to refocus, but it only made his sinuses throb. His breathing was getting shallower, his chest starting to ache in a way he really didn’t want to think about.

Then, just as the dungeon boss was finally, finally defeated, his entire world was shaken—literally—by the front door slamming open.

“Yo, I’m home—what the fuck are you still doing awake?”

S7en physically cringed.

His fluffy orange ears pinned flat against his skull as he slowly turned his head, as if that would somehow make him seem less guilty.

Elex stood in the doorway, arms crossed, staring him down like he was a parent catching their kid sneaking an energy drink at 2 AM. His dark green brows furrowed slightly, his mismatched eyes scanning him for a second before narrowing further.

S7en knew that look.

That was the you look like shit look.

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Calm down, I’b—hh—! hhHAHPT’tSCHHhhuue!!!!”

The sneeze absolutely wrecked him. His already weak frame pitched forward with the force of it, his headset nearly slipping off as he ducked down into his sleeve. His breath barely had time to hitch before another one overtook him.

“hH! HAHDT’tschhhiuuue!!”

The second left him dazed. He sniffled thickly, blinking blearily as his ears drooped even lower.

Elex just stared.

“…Uh huh. Yeah. No. You’re done,” he announced, marching over without hesitation.

“Dude, I’b fide—“

“You’re not fine.” Elex cut him off, reaching around him and—without a second thought—closed the game.

S7en gawked. “EXCUSE ME—”

Chat, meanwhile, lost their minds.

STYXORRI: EL EX JUST STRAIGHT UP LOGGED HIM OUT LMAOOOO

VOIDGREMLIN: nah bc that’s actually so funny

[MOD] REXBURN: thank fuck, finally.

CLOUDHOPPER24: you have been evicted from the internet.

Elex turned to the screen, squinting at the chat before promptly leaning in and—click—ending the stream entirely.

S7en could only sit there, stunned.

“…Okay, rude.” He sniffled, rubbing his nose against his sleeve again. His voice was wrecked, all rough edges and stuffy vowels.

Elex huffed, eyes still sharp but softening just slightly as he took in the way S7en’s ears stayed pinned, how his shoulders drooped with exhaustion, how his breaths were already starting to wheeze.

“…How bad is it?” he asked, quieter this time.

S7en hesitated.

And for the first time that night, he didn’t have the energy to lie.

“…Bad.”

The end~

[invinciblevalentine]

atp i would snort reeve tuesti fic like cocaine.

if anyone knows any fics that put reeve through the blender like “Son” by She_sees_in_the_dark or “Through Another’s Eyes” by CorsairOriginal—

i need to see that man under enough pressure to make a diamond crack. For my health.

[opulentdeckchair]

in celebration of the ides of march i got stabbed (top surgery)

[racew1nn3rs]

─ 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘷. (𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴) 🐅

⤷ summary: spain and canada. lando's rizz is negative, mission is failed. plus, mclaren pr is about to fuck shit up 🗣️

━━━━━━ ༻✩₊⋆☾⋆⁺✧༺ ━━━━━━

liked by ynusername, zbrownceo, and 42,908 others

mclaren spain you were forgettable at best 😔 on to the next one

18,980 others

user1 y/n don't insult your team on the team account challenge

mclaren is it really an insult if it's true

user2 we got a lando photo but at what cost

user3 lando fans can never win here

mclaren why you would ever choose to be a lando fan to begin with is beyond me

user2 you're so right queen i'm sorry

landonorris DON'T APOLOGIZE WTF

user2 fuck both of y'all honestly

user4 at least mclaren fans can always count on content, even if we can't expect results 😭

user5 lando and y/n in their friendship era, how the fuck did we get here

landonorris you're posting me now? oh you want me so bad 🥴

mclaren sending this to hr immediately

ynusername YOU'RE FIREEEDDDDDDD

user6 damn she logged into both accounts just to make sure he heard her ass 💀 double homicide

user7 oscar fans i can't even tell if we won or lost

user8 we didn't get a face pic but... we didn't get whatever the fuck the 3rd slide is

landonorris guys pLEASE

landonorris i won't post it she says... it's just for me she says

user9 LMAOOOO AND YOU BELIEVED HER???? 🤣 🫵

landonorris going dark, no one call me

user9 was anyone going to anyways 💀

user10 LET HIM GET UPPPP

oscarpiastri i'll pay you 20 dollars if you don't ever do this to me

mclaren 🤝

mclaren i mean you were never the target but now you will be if i don't get my money!!!!

oscarpiastri oh ok

lilyzneimer i have pictures you can you use if you need bb <3

oscarpiastri WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON

zbrownceo Very funny Y/n! Keep up the good work 👍

mclaren Thanks boss! (:

landonorris ZAK WHY

user11 zak is so supportive now, wait until he sees her comments 💀

zbrownceo I have seen her comments! Very funny! 👍

user11 blink twice zak, we can help you

maxverstappen1 This is the highlight of my week, thank you Y/n!

mclaren hey max verstappen of redbull racing! not sure if you heard but you did win the grand prix this weekend

maxverstappen1 No i know, this is just definitely better.

ynusername where's my photo credits 🫵

mclaren my bad bbg 😍

user12 nurse she got out again

oscarpiastri we'll win next time!!

mclaren who told you that 🤨

oscarpiastri the voices in my head

logansargeant you hold on bro, we'll find your meds soon

user13 i think moto moto likes you ahh image

user14 i need to shrink him and put him in my pocket and keep him there

user15 which one?

user14 lando

landonorris nuh uh, pick again

maxfewtrell you can't post pictures without consent mate

mclaren i didn't??

landonorris i didn't consent.

mclaren who are you gonna believe max? me? or the solid concrete evidence in front of you

user16 he looks like he can do some crazy tricks on a trampoline

landonorris this is the only comment about myself that hasnt made me viscerally angry

oscarpiastri unfortunately i feel the opposite

user17 lany/n at it again

user18 literally what the fuck do you mean

user17 if you dont get it, i can't explain it to you

user18 okay cryptic ass, fuck you 🙄

user19 they're in love guys, just wait and see

user20 yall just love saying stupid shit on this page huh

user19 i hate getting accused of some shit i actually do 😡 like yeah i do love that but who told you

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user20 op be so fr right now

user21 everytime one of these illiterate f1 drivers pulls one of the hottest women on earth a fairty dies

user21 *fairy

user22 fairty

user21 you shut the fuck up 🫵

user23 people when coworkers are seen together at their place of work

user24 do you hug your coworkers and follow them like a lost puppy when you could be on a break

user23 wtf no

user24 EXACTLY MF, THIS IS NOT COWORKERS BEING COWORKERS

user25 history will say they were just colleagues 😔

opeightywon this shit is a national tragedy

user26 every time i see a post like this i think about the fact that she has probably seen this and i shiver

user27 honestly praying on their downfall

opeightywon wtf

user28 lando fans be normal challenge

user27 idgaf about that white man, she's just too hot for him 😕

opeightywon oh yeah real

user29 i need another youtube video where they stare at each other longingly again asap or i fear i may start having withdrawal symptoms

user30 another hot girl lost to an average white man's swagless looks and cringe fail personality i feel sick

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liked by landonorris, lilyzneimer, and 44,786 others

mclaren not our best results in canada but we improved i guess 🙄 but on a much better, more exciting note: NEW MCLAREN YOUTUBE CHALLENGE OUT GO GO GO GO

17,998 comments

user31 my crops are watered, my skin is clear, my funds are tripled

mclaren all me 😮‍💨

user32 "yay challenge video" we all cry in unison

user33 OSCAR FANS IS IT REAL??? HAS IT COME TRUE??? IS THAT A FACE PIC I SEE

user34 and it's good quality too 🤩 what did we do to deserve this

mclaren you don't, but oscar bought me coffee all weekend

oscarpiastri yes i bribed her, i feel no shame

user35 lando's back in the dog house bro, he's back to no face pics

user36 but look at his beautiful brown eyes

mclaren babe they're greenish blue with the TINIEST bit of brown 💀

user37 how long you gotta stare at a man's eyes to know the exact paint blend 🫵

user38 DOWN HORRENDOUSSSSSS

lilyzneimer insert comical heart eyes here

mclaren flirting with your man 🤢 on MY cellular device

lilyzneimer my bad bb, he doesn't mean anything to me anyways 🥴

oscarpiastri ok what the fuck

danielricciardo DROP THE CAMERA SETTINGS AND MY LIFE IS YOURS

mclaren check dms 🤲

danielricciardo thanks love you're the best

landonorris LOVE??? LMAOOOO

user39 bro is losing the dgaf war MISERABLY

user40 the way lando is staring at her the whole time she's behind the camera 😫 oh he's not even down bad, bro's down under

landonorris can i get the camera settings

mclaren has anyone ever told you how good you are at photography?? i'm not saying that, i'm just asking 😀

landonorris oKAY fuck you.

user41 the way she doesn't even pretend to care about the results

landonorris i know 🙄

mclaren i know p13 is nawttt talking back to me right now

user41 OHHH SHE ATE YOU UP HUH

landonorris y'all are some fake ass fans fr

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8:57 PM.

Y/n stared at the flashing numbers on the digital clock in the boardroom and huffed quietly. The table in front of her was covered in a mix of shredded mozzarella cheese and vibrant, red pizza sauce. Flour with evidence of handprints and bits of pizza dough decorated the wood and the woman internally sighed at the thought of clean up. Eventually she would have to get back to work.

Lando was on his phone across the table from her, and she fought the urge to stare at him. Oscar had left a while ago, having an earlier flight than them out of Canada. Lando and her had made the executive decision to stay and finish the pizza the two men had made during the "not my hands" YouTube challenge. It was messy, and didn't fully resemble a proper pizza, but it tasted good enough if not a little bit burnt. The two had been sitting in a comfortable silence for the time being while they ate.

In the time Y/n had gotten to know the British man, both on and off the track, she found herself warming up to him considerably. He was kinder than she gave him credit for at the beginning of the season, and far funnier. She could see now that more often than not he spoke without thinking or having any consideration, and maybe he was more than a little bit arrogant, but he also felt things deeply and cared passionately.

Before she could think about what she was doing, Lando's eyes met hers and he smirked. Y/n's face burned but she rolled her eyes at him and took another bite of their burnt pizza. Her ears caught the sound of him placing his phone on the table, and when she looked up again he was leaning his body across the table and toward her instead.

"What are you staring at? Hm?" He teased and she scoffed.

"You," she started and took another bite of her pizza, "have pizza sauce all over your face, you idiot. And I'm just thinking, not sure if you're familiar with the concept." He grabbed a napkin quickly and began wiping rapidly at his chin and mouth, and even his nose. She couldn't help but laugh loudly. There was nothing on his face. He was perfect actually. Unfortunately.

"Did I get it? Why didn't you tell me sooner, traitor!" She doubled over but nodded anyways.

"What are you thinking about?" he questioned as he settled back down.

"Just the season, you and Oscar," she muttered.

"Me? Thinking of little ol' me when I'm right here in front of you," she rolled her eyes with a groan.

"You have selective hearing Lando," he laughed and nodded.

"Well what have you thought about it? The season I mean. And myself of course, don't care much what you think about Osc," he leaned on his hand and stared at her intently. Y/n couldn't help that being stared at by Lando felt a little bit like being ocean, being pulled and pushed by the moon's gravity. Her brain didn't work properly around him.

Or maybe I'm just really dramatic and he's just hot, she thought miserably, Probably the latter.

"I just think maybe you and me got off on the wrong foot," she said as she fumbled with the lid of her water bottle, "and I think that maybe I enjoy this job a lot more than I thought I would." The comments seemed to sober Lando's mood up slightly.

Maybe I shouldn't have been truthful. Maybe it shouldn't have been that serious.

"What did you think of me?" He asked quietly. "When you met me I mean."

"Do you want me to be honest?" He looked at her quizzically.

"Of course I want you to be honest Y/n, or I wouldn't have asked."

"I thought you were kind of an asshole," she whispered and he laughed.

"So the beef was real for you," he smiled slightly and she let her face fall gently into her hands.

"Yeah," she breathed out a laugh, "yeah maybe a little."

"Doesn't seem like a little," he goaded and she shot him a glare.

"Okay Lord Lando, maybe more than a little," he pointed at her triumphantly.

"AHA! So it was the instagram comment. I thought you knew I was kidding," A loud groan filled the room as she smacked her head on the table. Lando's giggling could probably be heard down the hall but Y/n found she didn't care all that much anymore.

"It wasn't just the instagram comment," she defended weakly. There was a brief silence as Lando stared into space and shook his head.

"Wow... I can't believe you were actually mad at me and I just didn't know."

"It wasn't that big of a deal I guess, I just felt like you didn't really take me seriously."

"Well I mean you're not a very serious person," Y/n's heart fell to her stomach.

"What?" She asked, staring at him. She couldn't have heard him right.

"Well it's just that you're not very serious are you? Like since I met you, it's never felt like you were a serious sort of person." He added as if that was some sort of defense.

As if that isn't more hurtful.

"You're not like Zak or Andrea, or really anyone else here you know? You're just you, you're different. It was hard to be serious with you here because that's just who you are." He continued.

God just shut up, please for the love of God just shut up.

"This is my place of work Lando," she muttered bitterly. "I mean do you hear yourself." His eyes widened and he put his hands out placatingly. Like she was some sort of rabid animal he needed to calm down.

"No no no," he muttered quickly and stood up to round the table, "that's not what I meant Y/n, you know that."

"Stop Lando, just stop," she said as she began to clear off the table.

Why did she expect him to be different. What made her think he could've changed.

"You made it perfectly clear what you mean. What you think of me and of my work, my career" she spit out, swiping everything on the table into the trash. They hadn't finished eating the pizza and now it was in the bin, but Lando didn't deserve to eat the pizza she helped him make. He didn't deserve to be here at all. He wasn't her friend, he was her coworker and nothing else. It was better she accept that now.

"You misunderstood what I said," he grabbed her arm to stop her from cleaning and she whipped it out of his grasp.

"Stop Lando," she said raising her voice. She knew her eyes were teary but she didn't care. She knew her face was red with embarrassment and her hands were shaking with the force of her humiliation but she didn't care. Lando Norris could go fuck himself.

He looked at her in shock and winced as he saw her face. She steeled herself. She had never cried over a man before, why would she do it now.

"You need to leave, you have a flight in the morning," she said emotionlessly. "And I have to clean so I can go home." He tried to speak and she put her hand up, stepping away from him.

"Get out please, you're in my way," she said and his brows scrunched. He was angry? Good, so was she.

"I'm in your way?" He asked incredulously, as if she didn't have any reason to be upset. "You're not even going to hear me out?" He scoffed.

"No Lando, I don't have time for this. I have a job to do and you're in my way," she said emphasizing the words as if speaking to a child. His face fell. He looked angry.

"Whatever Y/n. What fucking ever," he muttered, grabbing his bag and storming out. Y/n waited. Footsteps in the hallways continued until a far off door slammed.

Y/n wilted like an unwatered plant as tears began to fall.

So much for friends.

She knew deep down she was hurt about much more than just friendship.

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this is the second to last chapter of part one! i hope you enjoy! please feel free to comment and send requests, i'm excited to hear your thoughts <3

-

𝙩𝙖𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

@lemon-lav @slutforpopculture @m4rt10ne @urfavsgf @sadsierra2 @96jnie @sltwins @poppyflower-22 @alliumiae @livelovesports @liberty-barnes @the-holy-trinity-l @iliwyss @awritingtree @redpool @elliotts1one @velentine @chaoticmessneutralplease @5sospenguinqueen @charizznorizz @2pagenumb @mxdi0 @cwiphswmwasohmm @tremendousstarlighttragedy @lnspipedrm @itseightbeats @tinycoffeeroom @woozarts @personwhoisther @a-beaverhausen @love-simon @annabellelee @ravisinghs-wife @chezmardybum @greantii @weekendlusting @monserelates @sapphiccloud @halleest @deamus-liv @gigigreens @morenofilm @laneyspaulding19 @lanireadss @dear-fifi @moldyshorts1997 @oliviarodrigostan13 @eugene-emt-roe @ilivbullyingjeongin @im-a-ghost666

[mr-cha-n]

Through the Lens

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genres: Smut, fluff, photographer x model AU

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, sexual content, penetration, nudity

Word Count: 12.5k

Summary: Six months. Full access. Intimate photos. A glimpse into the world of celebrity. And the last thing Jeon Wonwoo thought he was signing up for.

A/N: Publishing a draft, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

The email arrives at the most inconvenient time, as all important emails do. Wonwoo had spent the entire day at the studio, taking newborn photos of a client’s latest chow chow—"latest" being bolded because this was the third time this year that he’d been called in for this client’s endless stream of puppies. By the time he’d finished, his body was ached raw from awkward angles, and his mind was numb from a six-hour editing marathon. He only managed to drag himself back to his flat after the sun had long since dipped below the horizon, craving the sweet refuge of solitude. 

Alas, he was dragged through a two-hour catch-up session with his flatmate, Mingyu, who, with his never-ending supply of caffeine and chatter, somehow managed to convince him to watch a movie about a guy who falls in love with his childhood friend who is also a ghost. (No, it didn't make sense, but Mingyu enjoyed it, and Wonwoo had long given up trying to follow his logic.)

By the time he collapses onto the couch, half-dead from human interaction, the email is waiting. 

"Subject: Assignment Confirmation: (Y/n) (Y/l/n)."

He groans as he clicks it open, his finger hovering over the delete button, ready to toss the whole thing into the digital void. Then he reads the first line:

"Dear Mr. Jeon, we are pleased to confirm that you have been selected as the official photographer for the upcoming feature on (Y/n) (Y/l/n), world-renowned socialite and philanthropist."

"What in the world..." Wonwoo mutters. He doesn't even really remember submitting his name for this, and he's shocked he'd ever consider it. Wonwoo has long made a mental vow to avoid people like you - socialites, celebrities, influencers - whatever you call them. In the world of photography, they are all the same: walking photo opportunity with zero personality and way too much drama. Perfect for paparazzi, but not something he has time for. 

He's a quiet, detached observer of the world. He doesn't need to be a part of it.

But the email continues:

"We have full confidence in your ability to capture the raw and humanising side of Ms. (Y/l/n), giving our readers an intimate glimpse into her life, both public and private."

Raw? Humanising? Intimate? Which magazine is this again, the National Geographic?

His eyes flicker back up to the top of the email, growing wide as he sees the sender. Well, shit. Opus Magazine. He does remember applying for this, although, in his defence, they hadn't specified the subject of the op-ed when he'd submitted it. 

"We are excited to have you on board for this project, which will span the next six months. Your first shoot is scheduled for next Thursday, at 10 AM, at Ms. (Y/l/n)’s residence. We look forward to seeing how your unique perspective brings this project to life.

Thank you for your time and commitment.

Wonwoo leans back, tilting his head toward the ceiling as if the world would offer him an answer. It doesn’t.

Best regards,

The Editorial Team

Opus Magazine"

In all fairness, he has never actually met you before. But he's seen you everywhere. The perfectly curated Instagram feed. The charity galas. The interviews. The way you seem to be exactly what everyone wants you to be: flawless, effortless, untouchable.

A three-page approval form for every photo, he assumes. 

The door to the living room creaks open. "How are you not asleep yet?" Mingyu says cheerfully, poking his head in. Wonwoo glances at the clock on his screen: 2:43 am. He chooses not to point out that Mingyu's still awake too.

"I've been assigned to photograph (Y/n) (Y/l/n) for the next six months." Wonwoo grumbles, tapping his phone screen as if he could wipe away the whole thing with a swipe.

Mingyu's eyes widen in surprise. "Wait - (Y/n) (Y/l/n)? As in Forbes Under 30 (Y/n) (Y/l/n)?!"

"Yes. That one." Wonwoo replies flatly, eyes narrowing. "Six months. Full access. I'm going to want to die halfway through."

Mingyu looks delighted, clearly missing the gravity of the situation. "Ooh, this is going to be so fun! You're going to be all glamorous and -"

"No. No, I'm not," Wonwoo interrupts. "I'm going to hide behind my camera and take photos of her from so far away that she doesn't even know I'm there."

“Yeah, okay, Mr. Anti-Social. But—” Mingyu plops down beside him, grinning. “—what if she wants to get to know you?"

Wonwoo turns to him, unamused. "It's a professional gig to make her look good; she won't want me digging into her real life."

Mingyu, without missing a beat, grabs a bag of chips and shoves them into Wonwoo’s lap. “Just saying. People don’t come with Instagram models and high-profile gigs attached unless there’s something extra special about them, right? Maybe she’s a hidden gem.”

"Hidden gem?" Wonwoo scoffs. "Or a nightmare in designer shoes."

It doesn’t take long for Mingyu to bombard him with unsolicited advice. “... here’s my tip for you. Don’t just take boring photos. You know what’s going to make her stand out in the sea of perfect socialite portraits?” He paused dramatically. “Unfiltered moments. Catch her when she’s off guard. Capture her when she doesn’t know she’s being watched.”

Wonwoo shoots him a deadpan look. “What, you mean like stalking her?”

“I prefer the term artistic observation,” Mingyu replies, grinning mischievously. “Trust me. You’re going to fall in love with her vulnerability. You know, the real her. The one she hides behind all the glam.”

Wonwoo shakes his head, already regretting this conversation. He’s not even met you, and here Mingyu was, crafting an entire narrative of undiscovered depth based on nothing but a couple of well-lit photos.

Still, his finger hovers over the accept button. 

Six months. Full access. Intimate photos.

Maybe he should just ... get on with it.

Wonwoo hasn't actually met you yet and he's already regretting his decision. 

He's spent the past week alternating between panicking and ignoring the dozens of emails for your team, each one more frantic than the last. First, they sent a detailed itinerary of the shoot, followed by an even more detailed list of instructions on what he should wear, when to arrive, and what colour lens he should use for "optimal lighting" - as if he didn’t know how to work a camera by now.

9:00 AM, Inbox:

“Subject: URGENT: RE: Ms. (Y/l/n)’s Preferences for the Day”

“Good morning, Mr. Jeon,

I hope you're prepared for today’s shoot! Please note that Ms. (Y/l/n) prefers a soft light filter on all images, especially when she’s not directly posing. We’ve attached a sample of how she likes her candid photos to look (it’s very specific). Do ensure that you have the required lens, and if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to reach out.

Wonwoo stares at the email for a moment, blinking. Soft light filter? Do you breathe, or do you simply exist in a perpetual soft-focus glow? His finger hovers over the "delete" button, but he refrains. He already knows this is a battle he’s not going to win.

Best,

Assistant to Ms. (Y/l/n)’s PR Team.”

He takes a deep breath and forces himself to get up. He throws on his jacket, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him worse than when he submitted his final portfolio at college, and the project hasn't even begun yet. There's no escaping now. He has to do it - he's been hired for this. Paid for it, too, which means he's legally obliged to at least try.

He arrives at the shoot location just before 10 AM: a sprawling, minimalist mansion that looks like it's been pulled from the pages of an interior design magazine. It's sleek, modern, and incredibly intimidating. The atmosphere is slick with an 'unapproachable luxury' vibe, and Wonwoo can already feel the tension in his shoulders as he steps out of his car. 

A member of the PR team greets him immediately, smiling far too brightly for someone who's probably already been working since 5 AM. "Mr. Jeon! So glad you could make it. Please follow me inside, Ms. (Y/l/n) is just getting ready.”

Wonwoo nods, trying to maintain the calm he doesn't really feel, muttering a "thank you" in response.

Inside, everything is sleek and spotless - nothing out of place, nothing too personal. Like no one's ever lived here. He's brought to a sitting room where the lighting is admittedly perfect. Almost too perfect. He's not used to working in these conditions. He's used to having to fix things last minute, create something out of nothing, or use the imperfections to his advantage. A soft hum of quiet chatter fills the air, and a stylist is busy adjusting something behind the curtain.

He doesn't know what he's expecting as you walk out. Maybe someone a little more ordinary, a little less polished than the figure seen in magazines. He's worked with models before, and they've always been so normal outside of shoots. But when you step into the light, it's like the room takes a collective breath. You're impossibly beautiful, even he can admit that, in that "perfectly put together, but effortless charming" way. Your smile hits him like a tidal wave, all dazzling teeth and liquid confidence, and for a split second, he forgets why he's here. 

He opens his mouth to speak, but what comes out is a dry, “Hello.”

You tilt your head slightly, looking him up and down with eyes that seem to see everything. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Jeon,” you say, your voice smooth, almost teasing.

Wonwoo feels a flutter of unease in his chest, though he’s not sure why. It’s not like he hasn’t worked with famous people before, and yet something about you—something about the way you look at him—feels like an interrogation.

“Ah, well,” he stammers for a second, clearing his throat, “I… I hope it’s all positive.”

The smile on your lips doesn’t waver, but there’s something almost too sharp about it. The kind of smile that’s practised, like you’ve been wearing it since you were a child in front of mirrors, learning the exact angle for maximum charm.

“Oh, absolutely. You’ve got quite the reputation,” you say, as if it’s an afterthought. “They told me you’d be professional.”

Professional. Right. Because that’s exactly what he is. He’s always professional, no matter how much he wants to roll his eyes at the utter insanity of the situation. 

He offers a stiff nod. “Good. That’s what I’m here for.”

You smile again, but this time it’s softer. There's a flicker of something in your eyes, almost like amusement, but also curiosity. For a moment, Wonwoo wonders if he's just a novelty to you, something to poke at for fun. Or maybe you think you’re the novelty here, and he's just another player in the game you're used to winning. Either way, he can feel the weight of that gaze, and it’s not entirely comfortable.

You take a step closer, and Wonwoo resists the urge to take a step back. It’s like you have this gravitational pull—magnetic, impossible to ignore. But he’s not going to let that faze him. His eyes stay focused on your face, trying not to let your presence throw him off his game.

“So,” you say, tilting your head slightly, “what’s your plan for today? I’m assuming I’m not just going to stand here all day and look pretty?”

It's a light question, but he can hear the expectation in your voice. He’s used to people expecting things. It’s just—well, usually, it’s an email with 10 bullet points, not an interrogation delivered with a smile.

“I’ll take a few shots first,” Wonwoo replies, keeping his tone neutral. “Get the feel of the lighting. Then we’ll see if we need anything more posed.”

You nod, and decide the conversation is over, floating back over to the set.

Wonwoo lifts his camera, adjusting the settings to give himself a moment to settle down.

You stand still, not quite posing, but perfectly aware of your body. Everything about you seems calculated. Even your fingers, relaxed at your sides, seem to fall into the right positions at just the right time. It’s strange, though, because you’re not the robotic kind of poised he’s used to. There's a subtle looseness to you, a humanity that he doesn't expect.

“How does this work?” you say after a beat. “You just take my picture and call it a day?”

Wonwoo focuses on adjusting the lens, trying to suppress the slight frustration that’s bubbling up. He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to take your picture. All he wants is to get the job done and move on.

But instead, he clicks the shutter. One, two, three shots in rapid succession. The light catches your face in a way that’s almost too good to be real, too perfect for anyone to be this unfailingly photogenic.

“Relax,” he mutters more to himself than to you. “Just act natural.”

You tilt your head again, this time a little more playfully. “Natural?” You raise an eyebrow, a soft chuckle escaping you. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten what that is.”

Wonwoo’s finger freezes over the shutter, and he looks at you again, the barest hint of annoyance tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, I’m sure you can manage."

You laugh then, a light, almost mythical sound, and for a moment, the tension in the room eases just enough for Wonwoo to breathe. “I’ll try. But no promises.”

He clicks another shot, and for the first time, something in his chest loosens. It’s not much—just a tiny shift—but it’s there. You’re... interesting.

“Tell me, Mr. Jeon,” you ask, your voice low. "I'm intrigued as to why you decided to do this shoot. What's your opinion on people like me?"

Wonwoo lowers the camera, the question catching him off guard. “What do you mean?”

You shrug, your gaze flicking toward the window, your expression momentarily unreadable. “People who live in the public eye. People who everyone thinks they know, but don’t. What’s your opinion on that?”

“People like you don’t need opinions,” he says, his voice flat, “because you already know how everyone feels about you.”

He’s being sharp. Cold, even. And he knows it. But he can’t help himself. This isn’t the first time he’s worked with someone who expects the world to revolve around them. It’s what they do. It’s why he keeps his distance.

You don’t react immediately. You just stare at him for a moment, your expression unreadable.

For a split second, he wonders if he’s crossed a line. But then your lips twitch, just the slightest hint of a smile.

“Well,” you finally say, your tone warm but still guarded, “I suppose that’s one way to see it.”

Wonwoo wants to say something else, maybe something witty or sarcastic, but he stops himself. Instead, he lifts the camera again, focusing on the next shot.

No matter how much he tries to bury it, Wonwoo can’t help but feel... a little intrigued by you.

Just a little.

The second shoot is at your apartment. 

Wonwoo had been floored when he'd found out - although the spotless nature of the first home had kind of given away that it wasn't actually yours. More than that, the fact that he, despite meaning to have creative control over the project, wasn't told that the purpose of the first shoot was to show a contrast between how people thought you lived and how you actually lived. Seemed like something he should have a say in.

As he arrives, the reality is different to what he'd imagined, and the opposite of the slick, minimalist mansion. 

Your apartment is, in a word, alive. The first thing that hits him is the colour. Bright hues of teal and mustard yellow leap off the walls, the kind of vibrant tones that feel like they belong in a 70s sitcom. The entire place seems to be a throwback to a cooler, bygone era, as if time itself was gently bent to live in this space. Mid-century modern furniture clashes with bold retro patterns—geometric prints, zigzags, and polka dots galore. 

The space is wide and open, but it’s not the sterile kind of open that’s all white walls and cold metal. No, this is a living, breathing room that demands attention with its quirk and charm. He prefers it.

The walls are covered in vintage posters from concerts, movies, and random ads from the 60s and 70s—faded, but still full of energy. One poster catches his eye in particular: it’s a photograph of an old jazz band in action, the colours almost washed out but still vibrant in their intensity. He notices that it’s not framed, just tacked on with mismatched pins as though it was thrown up without a second thought. It’s a detail that makes him think you probably chose it on a whim.

At the far side of the room, there's a vintage bar cart—wooden, with brass accents, stocked with various bottles and a large glass decanter that catches the light as though it’s waiting for its next cocktail to be poured. A small but proud collection of classic board games, with bright, cheerful colours that look like they belong on a childhood shelf, sits close next door. 

Despite the space being filled with vintage charm, there’s a kind of organised chaos to it all. The floor might have an old rug with faded patterns that don't quite match the couch, and the coffee table—half-full of magazines, books, and a stray mug—couldn’t be called tidy, but it’s the kind of mess that makes the space feel lived-in.

The thought makes his stomach twist uncomfortably.

You lead him inside, wearing a loose, earthy sweater and faded denim jeans, a marked contrast to the polished image he’s gotten used to seeing in magazines. You still look beautiful, but comfortable. Not model-perfect. 

“You can set up wherever you’d like,” you say casually. Your voice is warm, and easy-going in a way that’s almost disarming.

Looking around, he realises for the first time that none of your team is here. And, weirdly, it unsettles him.

He finds himself pausing for a moment when he notices a worn book sitting on the coffee table, the edges curled with time. He’s always had a soft spot for books, the way their covers could tell so much about the person who owned them. And that book? It’s clearly one you’ve read over and over.

His fingers hover over his camera lens for a moment, and before he can stop himself, he mutters, “You read a lot?”

You glance over, surprised. “Hmm?”

“The book.” He gestures vaguely, “It looks well-loved.”

You laugh softly, a short, pleasant sound that makes his chest tighten in a way he doesn’t fully understand. “Oh, that? It’s nothing, really. Just something I found at a little bookstore in Paris. I’ve read it a million times, but... sometimes, it feels like you can always find something new in the pages, you know?”

Wonwoo opens his mouth, but no words come out. It's almost spinning his head around - the way that you're mixing together something so casual like a well-worn book with the detail that you got it in Paris. There's this weird grating of human and celebrity that he doesn't know how to deal with.

You seem to notice the shift in his gaze, your smile becoming a little softer. But instead of explaining more, you walk over to the window and lean against the frame, glancing outside. “So, how do you want to do this today?” you ask, clearly trying to get back on track.

Wonwoo nods, snapping himself back into work mode. “Let’s start with some natural shots,” he says briskly, pointing to the light streaming in through the window. “You can stay by the window, maybe. I’ll catch the light.”

You agree without hesitation, sitting down on the frame. 

The shots begin. You sit, your eyes thoughtful but distant, as if lost in some thought. He clicks the shutter a few times, and the room is silent except for the rhythmic sound of the camera.

The more he shoots, the more he finds himself paying attention to the small things. The way you absentmindedly twirl a lock of hair between your fingers. The way your posture softens after a few minutes, like you’re forgetting he’s there, and yet still poised.

The next shot clicks, and you look up at him, catching his eye. 

“Is that good?” you ask, breaking the silence.

He swallows, feeling a slight tension in his throat that wasn’t there before. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s perfect.”

The words come out without thinking, and he can feel his cheeks flush slightly at the sincerity with which he says them. He's fiddling with his camera settings again, trying to adjust the light for the shot, as you sidle over to the small vintage record player near the window. The soft crackling sound of a jazz record fills the air. 

He doesn’t expect it when you suddenly speak, your voice soft but with an underlying curiosity.

“So,” you say, not turning around, your fingers gently tapping against the edge of the record player, “I’ve been wondering… you’ve been pretty quiet this whole time. Not like the others. Why is that?”

Wonwoo glances up, caught off guard. “What do you mean?” He doesn’t look at you directly, still adjusting the focus on the lens, anything to avoid eye contact.

“I mean,” you laugh lightly, spinning the record player’s dial, “everyone else I work with is always talking. About work, about their lives, about whatever’s trending—people like to talk, especially when they’re nervous. You’re the only one who hasn’t said much about anything.”

There’s an open quality in your tone, no judgment, no pressure, just curiosity. And for some reason, that makes him feel even more exposed than if you had pried into his personal life directly.

“I guess I’m not a fan of small talk,” Wonwoo mutters, setting the camera down a little too abruptly, feeling a tightness in his chest. “I don’t really need to fill the silence.”

You turn to face him then, and for the first time, he notices how unguarded your expression is. There’s no fake smile or calculated pose—just an interested look.

"I get that," you say, your voice now quieter, almost thoughtful. "But... do you ever feel like you miss out? I mean, silence is... great, but it’s also really lonely sometimes, isn’t it?"

"Not really,” he says, not meeting your gaze. “I’m fine with being on my own. I’ve always preferred it.”

You tilt your head, studying him with an intensity that makes him shift uncomfortably. "You know," you say, taking a step toward him, your voice soft but deliberate, "I always thought I’d be fine alone too. It's funny how we get so used to being surrounded by people, by noise, by the ‘right’ kind of company—when, in the end, it’s really the silence that’s the most honest."

Your words sink into him, a little unexpected, a little disorienting. There's a weight to them—like you’ve really thought about this. 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, his voice less guarded, almost teasing, but there’s an edge of curiosity there too.

You pause for a beat, a soft smile playing on your lips. There's something mischievous in the way your eyes twinkle. "Well," you begin, you're voice light, "what I mean is that maybe the real stuff gets lost when you get too good at hiding behind the quiet."

He raises an eyebrow, but before he can reply, you finish with a playful, almost theatric sigh: "Or maybe I'm just trying to get you to talk. You know, because I certainly don't want to be the only one in the spotlight in this room. It's exhausting, really."

He can't help it—he laughs. A quiet, breathy sound, but it’s real. Something about the absurdity of it all. Something about the way you deflect it all with that charming, nonchalant smile.

"You're a work in progress," you grin wider, eyes narrowing. "But I'm going to crack you open."

Wonwoo is still chuckling, a disbelieving snort of laughter he can't hide. He leans back in his chair, running his hand through his hair as he studies you with a wry smile. "Yeah, well, I’m not sure I’m the one who needs cracking open," he says, his tone half teasing, half resigned, as if he’s already lost the battle.

You pause for a moment, surprised that you've actually got him joining in on your jokes. But you don't press. Instead, you give him a sideways grin and lounge out over your statement, mustard couch. "Tell me, Mr Jeon - do you still think your opinion of me doesn't matter? Should I go back to hiding behind the perfect image for you to capture what everyone else already thinks of me?"

Wonwoo chuckles, shaking his head. He can’t deny that something about you has started to chip away at his carefully cultivated indifference. "I don’t think you could ever hide, even if you tried."

The jazz record continues to hum in the background, and Wonwoo starts to wonder if he's finally found something worth shooting beyond the lens. 

When he makes it back home, the camera bag feels heavier than usual, and the moment he closes his front door, he's hit when the familiar sense of quiet. 

He dumps the camera bag on the kitchen counter and heads straight for his desk, flipping open his laptop with the enthusiasm of someone who’s about to dive into hours of editing. The usual dread of looking through the pictures fades as he opens the files. He didn’t think he’d be so invested in this shoot, especially not with you, of all people. But the truth is, the moment he starts scrolling through the shots, he’s a little bit stunned.

There are candid moments of you, captured so naturally. Your hair falls in your face as you laugh at something he barely remembers, the light coming in through the window bathing you in that soft golden glow like you were born for this. The quiet, unguarded moments—your fingers absentmindedly tapping against the coffee table, your eyes softened with a thought he’ll never fully know.

He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until the shot where you’re sitting by the window, gazing out at the street, completely oblivious to the lens. It’s raw. And weirdly, it’s beautiful in a way he didn’t anticipate.

With a sigh, he leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair.

And damn it, now he’s got to figure out how to keep it professional when all he wants to do is scroll back through these photos of you for the next few hours.

He grabs his coffee again, takes another sip, and mutters under his breath, "What’s the point of professionalism, anyway?"

Wonwoo is not thrilled about attending the gala. In fact, he's pretty sure if he could just get lost in the crowd and pretend he's not there, he would. But, alas, work. He's there, standing awkwardly by the hors d'oeuvres table, holding the camera like it's a shield. The entire place is dripping in opulence - golden chandeliers, champagne towers, and a sea of glittering gowns and tuxedos so shiny they could be mistaken for mirrors.  It's the kind of event where everyone’s either a billionaire or pretending to be one.

And then, of course, there’s you.

You move through the room like you've got a personal spotlight, laughing with people he's never heard of, shaking hands with people he has. The dress you're wearing is stunning, too, naturally - deep emerald green, with a neckline just high enough to make it look elegant but low enough to make him briefly question his entire career as a photographer. He should be focused on the job. But you're flashing that perfect smile, chatting with rich old men and influencers alike, completely different from the version of you he saw in your apartment just a week ago, laughing over a worn book.

He watches you interact with the other guests, a dance of small talk, well-placed compliments, and calculated interest, and suddenly, he feels like he’s been shrunk down to the size of a cockroach. If someone took a photo of him, An intruder in your world would be the title. The camera, which he thought would make him feel a little less out of place, feels heavy in his hands, as though it might give away the fact that he’s just not meant to be here.

You glance in his direction, catching his eye from across the room. He freezes. He can almost hear you sighing internally before you offer a small, knowing smile.

"Mr. Jeon!" Your voice floats toward him over the clink of glasses and high-pitched laughter. "How are we doing? Getting some good shots?"

He stares at you, blinking. You’re asking him in that casual, sweet tone that’s just different from your “public persona” voice. It’s like a crack in the glass, and he suddenly feels... disoriented. The contrast is so stark that for a second, he forgets how to respond.

"Uh—yeah, I mean, everything’s fine," he stammers, adjusting the camera lens like it might offer him some sort of escape from his discomfort. "Just, you know. Capturing the glamour." He motions vaguely at the glittering scene around him, feeling more awkward by the second. His fingers hover over the shutter button, but they hesitate.

You laugh, a polite, rehearsed sound. "Ah, yes. Glamour. The thing I do so well." You flash him a smile that could melt diamonds and suddenly he feels like he’s about two seconds away from accidentally snapping a picture of his own nervous breakdown.

The silence between you stretches just long enough for him to feel like the entire room is waiting for him to speak. He clears his throat. "It’s... different, isn’t it? Here?"

You tilt your head slightly, raising an eyebrow, as if trying to gauge whether he’s joking or not. "Different?" You laugh again, but this time it’s more self-deprecating. "I guess. But it’s what I’m used to. The lights, the faces. I mean, it’s all a bit much sometimes, but..." You trail off, and for a second, it feels like you're letting something slip.

But then someone else approaches you, pulling you into a conversation about some charity auction or art gala (he stops paying attention, realising he’s been trying to capture your attention too long), and just like that, the moment is over. You slip right back into the role, offering another perfect smile, your body language straightening, as if you’re suddenly filled with all the energy you didn’t seem to have a second ago.

The space feels suffocating all of a sudden, and Wonwoo wonders if he should have stayed home, maybe edited a few more of those photos, or gone for a walk—anything to avoid being a part of this gilded zoo. He looks through the lens, catching another shot of you laughing with an older gentleman, your hand resting lightly on his arm. 

A loud crash breaks through the air.

Wonwoo's head snaps in the direction of the sound, instinctively lifting the camera as if it's somehow going to make sense of the situation. 

He spots a waiter, wide-eyed and mortified, standing frozen next to a toppled champagne tower. Glasses are shattered everywhere, a sea of bubbly liquid spilling across the pristine white carpet like some kind of modern art installation.

The room falls into a hushed silence.

He can feel the collective tension, the people who’d been laughing and chatting a second ago suddenly stiffening in disapproval. Someone gasps—probably just for dramatic effect—but the truth is, everyone’s too rich, too important to react with anything other than mild disdain. A few uncomfortable glances are exchanged, and one of the older men starts muttering under his breath, his hands clutching his glass like it’s a lifeline.

And then, like someone flipping a switch, you’re there.

You glide through the crowd with a purposeful ease that makes everything else fade into the background. People part for you as though they know exactly what you’re about to do. The smile that had been plastered on your face during the earlier conversation is gone, replaced with a soft, serious expression, one that’s sharp in its concern.

"Excuse me," you say, your voice suddenly commanding but not unkind. Wonwoo can tell the waiter is waiting for the blowout, the yelling, the anger - but it's not there.

"It's alright, don't worry. It's just a few glasses. Are you hurt?"

The waiter shakes his head, and you kneel down beside him to start gathering up the broken shards of glass with careful motion. "Let me help, then."

The people around you are still hesitant, staring awkwardly, unsure whether they should step in or just stand back and pretend like nothing's happening. But you’re focused on the task at hand, moving with precision, completely unaffected by the sea of disapproving looks that surround you.

Wonwoo finds himself frozen again, his camera half-raised. His finger hesitates on the shutter button, unsure if he should capture the moment. You don’t seem to care about the image you're creating, not in the way you do for the cameras. Here, you’re just someone helping out, unbothered by the chaos unfolding around you. 

After you finish clearing up the last of the glass, you stand up and dust your hands off, flashing a quick smile to the waiter, who looks completely relieved. You stand tall, taking in the now-silent room with a playful glint in your eye.

“Well," you say, wiping your hands on your dress, "I always knew I was good at breaking the ice, but I didn’t think it’d be literal this time."

The room goes quiet for a beat, and then, just like that, a few people start to chuckle. Someone claps lightly, another offers a small cheer, and the tension evaporates into a burst of laughter.

You throw your hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, don’t all applaud at once. Just trying to keep things interesting around here."

With that, the conversation picks up again. The guests move, shift, and suddenly, the night feels like it’s back in motion. Wonwoo watches from a distance, surprised at how quickly the entire atmosphere shifted. You just defused the room with a smile and a joke, as if it had all been part of the plan.

"Hey," you're walking up to him, stepping into his personal space as the final whirlwind of flashing cameras wraps up an evening of too many glasses of champagne and handshakes that feel more like a chore than a greeting. "What are you doing after this?"

Wonwoo looks up, startled. "Uh, I… well, I was just going to head back. Got a few edits to finish up," he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.

You tilt your head, studying him with a slight grin. "That sounds like fun," you tease. "But I’m guessing it’s not exactly going to be a good time."

He pauses, feeling almost embarrassed for a moment, before shrugging. "I guess I could skip it."

A small beat of silence passes between you, and then you speak again, quieter this time. "You know," you start, your voice softer than before, "if you don’t have anything better to do... I’d, uh, actually kind of like to go out. No fancy people, no cameras. Just… I don't know, something normal."

Wonwoo looks at you for a beat, wondering if you're asking him to go with him, as the corners of his lips twitch upwards. "You mean no red carpets and champagne?"

You laugh, soft and genuine. "Exactly," you say, your voice laced with a touch of vulnerability. "Just, you know, being normal for once."

The way you say "normal" almost makes it sound like a forbidden word in your world, and Wonwoo feels a flicker of something.

"I’m in," he says, the words slipping out before he can think too much about them.

You give him a small, almost shy smile. "Alright. You follow me."

It’s an hour later, and you’re driving through the city, the sound of the tyres on the road mixing with the faint hum of the radio. You didn’t tell him where you were going, just that it was "something fun." Wonwoo’s pretty sure you’ve never driven anywhere that didn’t require a driver, but here you are—on a small, crowded street near the heart of the city, pulling up to a diner with neon lights flickering like they haven’t been replaced in a decade.

"This place?" Wonwoo asks, looking out the window at the 24/7 diner with its retro sign and low-key vibe.

"Yep. We said normal, right? Well, this is as normal as it gets."

He raises an eyebrow, but before he can protest, you’re already getting out of the car, leaving him no choice but to follow.

Inside, it’s a whole different world. The diner smells faintly of coffee and fried food, and the clink of mugs and chatter of a few late-night patrons makes the place feel strangely cosy. There’s a jukebox in the corner, and despite the place being stuck in a time warp, you both sit down at a booth, the vinyl seats creaking under you as you slide in.

You both sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the normal kind of silence that feels more like breathing than awkwardness. And then, finally, you speak.

"You want to know something crazy?" You say, looking down at the menu, though you made it clear in the car that you've already memorised it. 

Wonwoo looks up, his brow furrowing slightly as he nods.

"This is probably the first time in a while I haven't felt like I have to perform. Which is, actually, crazy. Because I'm hanging out with a professional photographer who's being paid to capture every moment of my life." You let out a disbelieving scoff, your lips curling into a grimace-like smile.

"I get that," he replies, his voice softer than he expects. "It's different for me too. I'm not sure I remember the last time I spoke to any of my friends, other than my flatmate, who insists that we have a catch-up meeting every day."

You chuckle, the crinkles of your smile flattening out. 

The waitress arrives, interrupting for a moment, and you order a milkshake without hesitation. He orders something random, revelling in the thrill of not thinking too much about anything.

"I get lonely sometimes," you say after your order arrives, so quietly that Wonwoo almost misses it. "I know it’s weird, I mean, people are always around me. But it’s like... they don’t really see me. They only see the version of me they expect."

He's not sure if you're still tipsy, although the rosy flush of your cheeks suggests so, or if you now feel very comfortable with him. 

Wonwoo isn’t sure what to say, so he just lets the silence settle for a moment, letting your words hang in the air like a soft echo.

"You know," he says after a beat, his voice lighter than before, "I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who can juggle both a charity gala and a diner milkshake at 3 AM with such grace."

You snort, blowing bubbles into the drink that leave splashes of pink liquid sizzling on the diner table. The sight is enough to set Wonwoo off too, laughter spilling out of him in a way that's only possible in the early hours of the morning. 

"I should take a photo of that," he chuckles as you give him a large grin, the straw still sticking out of your teeth as you mop up the spilt drink. 

But he doesn't. Doesn't even think to take his camera out of its bag. 

Instead, he just watches you—really watches you—for the first time tonight, as you sit there, messy and unapologetic, with your eyes twinkling. And you're not the person everyone in the ballroom thought you were. 

"Maybe we should do this more often," you say, your voice unexpectedly soft as you look up at him. 

Wonwoo nods, the corner of his mouth curving up in the smallest of smiles. "Yeah. Maybe we should."

You've taken a surprising interest in Wonwoo’s regular work. Since you got him to admit that this project wasn’t really his usual gig, you've made it your personal mission to dig deeper. 70% of your questions have revolved around what he actually enjoys doing, the kind of work that doesn’t come with velvet ropes or high society guests. It’s a little like watching a puzzle slowly get pieced together—a mixture of curiosity and the way you just can't let go of something that intrigues you.

So, when you mention, "I think it's only fair you show me what you usually do," it’s not entirely out of the blue.

"Alight, alright," Wonwoo mutters, realising that he owes it to you to let you peek inside his world too. "But don't expect anything glamorous. Magazine spreads don't feature heavily."

Your eyebrows shoot up in an exaggerated gasp that has him rolling his eyes. "I'm not expecting you to change into a suit and tie, if that's what you're worried about." You grin. "but if you do, I'll totally snap some behind-the-scenes shots."

"Don't get any ideas," he mutters, but there's a soft laugh behind his words. 

You look like an archaeologist discovering ancient treasures as you step into the studio, and Wonwoo has to resist the urge to photograph the look on your face. He wasn't lying when he said it wasn't much, but it's quieter than the outside world, which is just the way Wonwoo likes it. The walls are lined with a few scattered prints, some framed, others just leaning against the wall, like they’ve been left to gather dust for the sake of catching a different light. The easel in the corner holds the remnants of his last attempt to paint, the workbench cluttered with film rolls, empty coffee cups, and a few stray brushes.

You pause in the doorway, taking it all in.

"So," you begin, "where's the real deal? Show me your favourites."

He shrugs and walks over to a table filled with various photo equipment, adjusting his glasses as he picks up a roll of film. "I’m not sure what you’d consider my 'thing,' but I mostly shoot for personal projects. I like experimental work. I mean..." He looks over at you, and for a second, there's a flicker of something more, something deeper. "I like showing things that don't get seen. Telling stories that don’t get told."

You step further into the room, your curiosity piqued. "The more I learn, the more I marvel at the fact that you chose to do photograph me," you tease. 

He looks back at you, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "It's good to try new things sometimes. And, well ... I'm not so sure you're story has been entirely captured yet."

He pulls a print down from a shelf, careful with the edges, and walks over to where you're sitting. "This," he says, sitting next to you, "is one of my newer pieces. It’s… different from the usual stuff I shoot. It’s a little raw, a little wild."

The picture is a little hard to make out - a blur of colours and light, like a dream caught in motion. There's an image of a figure - slightly distorted and bathed in neon blue and orange, wrapped in streaks of light that seem to bend and curve in ways that don't make sense. It almost looks like the figure is dissolving into the frame itself, as though they’re becoming part of the world rather than a separate subject within it.

"It’s a long exposure," he continues, "but I played with the focus to distort things more than I usually do. You can see the movement in it—like the person isn’t static. They’re not just there. They’re changing. Becoming."

You tilt your head, your gaze flickering back and forth as you try to make sense of the image.

"It’s unsettling," you say softly, more to yourself than to him.

Wonwoo nods, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "That’s what I like about it. People always expect something clear, something neat when they look at photos. But sometimes, the chaos is what’s real. The blur, the overlap of light, it’s how I see things."

"It’s like… you know when you try to hold onto a moment, but it keeps slipping away? That’s what this is. The image is still, but everything around it keeps moving. It doesn’t stay still, no matter how much you want it to."

You reach out, fingertips brushing the edge of the frame, tracing the glowing streaks of light. "It’s almost like you’re trying to capture the space between things."

He pauses, eyes flickering to yours as if reading your expression. "It’s like that with people, too, right? You think you know them, but then they change. Or maybe you change. And all of a sudden, you’re looking at them and wondering who they really are. Who they were. Who they’re becoming."

You’re silent for a moment, but your gaze hasn't left his and it's piercing into him with all of the unspoken words.

And then you're eyes snap to something behind him, and he feels a little empty in the void of your gaze. A small smile slips across your lips. And you're gone, moving quickly out of your seat to get a closer look at whatever has pulled you away from him.

Wonwoo's head swivels around, like if he loses sight of you, you'll disappear. 

"Now, this is unexpected."

Your voice is laced with that mischievous tone, and it snaps Wonwoo back into reality, his gaze darting to where you're now standing, eyes fixated on the shelf behind him.

He feels his cheeks heat up before he even registers why. The camera equipment on the shelf, partially obscured by a few stray photo albums, is a large, well-worn camera with an impressive lens. But it’s not the camera that’s got your attention—it’s the stack of photos beside it.

He swallows. "Oh, those. They're… um, just some old shoots,” he mutters, reaching for the pile as quickly as he can.

But you're already stepping closer, your grin widening as you grab one from the top of the stack. Your eyes light up as you hold it up, and it’s immediately clear why you’re grinning. 

The photo is a high-end fashion shot, one of those artsy ones. It features a model—clad in nothing but strategically placed shadows and some very expensive body paint, in what can only be described as sultry poses. The subject's entire form is captured with the kind of grace and sensuality you normally associate with glossy magazines and high-end ads.

You raise an eyebrow. “So… this is what you’re hiding in here?”

Wonwoo, face flushed to a shade of pink that doesn’t belong anywhere near a professional photographer, clears his throat awkwardly. “It’s not what you think. It was a concept shoot. A long time ago. For... art.”

“Art.” You repeat the word slowly, like you're savouring it. “A concept shoot. Right.” You peer closer at the picture, almost squinting like you’re studying the fine details. “Well, I have to say, I didn’t expect you to have such a niche portfolio.”

He snatches the photo from your hands, but you’re quicker than him, leaning in just a little too close for comfort. "Come on, don't be shy. I'm sure these shots went for a pretty penny. You should be proud of them."

 “It was a collaboration with a friend. We were experimenting with lighting and shadows. It wasn’t meant to be, like, that kind of shoot.”

You tilt your head and flash him a teasing smile. "Right. I'm sure it was all very tasteful."

“Stop it,” Wonwoo says, his voice a little more high-pitched than usual. He starts sorting through the other photos quickly, trying to hide the embarrassing ones. “There were plenty of clothes involved, okay? I mean, mostly clothed. Sometimes there weren’t.”

You laugh—genuine and loud—and Wonwoo has never felt more like a teenager caught in a lie.

"Don’t worry." You lean back casually, looking him up and down. “I’m not judging. Everyone needs a little fun with their camera work. Besides, I bet your models really appreciated your... attention to detail.”

“Oh my God, stop," he groans, hands covering his face.

"Oh, I know!" You jump up, the wideness of your grin setting of alarm bells in his head. Your body contorts into a lewd pose he's sure is captured in one of the photos. "Maybe you could shoot me like one of your French girls."

Wonwoo's brain is split in half between wanting to laugh at your stupid joke, and trying to stop his mind from digging any deeper into the way you look right now. He's never been more thankful for someone laughing so hard at their own joke that it gives him the time to remember to laugh too.

"Okay, okay, seriously though." You say, your words punctuated with breathy laughs. "I'd like to do a shoot in your style. Even if you don't use it for the feature, I'd like to have them - a little memory of the project."

He’s not sure what to make of it—after all, he’s never shot anything like that with someone like you. It’s one thing to let a stranger model for his more experimental projects, but someone who’s become... well, important to him? That complicates things.

You seem to sense his hesitation, so you quickly soften your expression, dropping the teasing tone. “I mean, no pressure. You don’t have to,” you add, but your smile stays. “I just think it would be fun, you know? Something a little out of the ordinary.”

He shifts on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to think of a way to deflect without sounding awkward.  But then, he catches the way you’re looking at him—expectant, yet light-hearted. And he knows there’s no way he can say no. And the idea of capturing you in his world - through his lens - is far too appealing.

"Alright," he finally says, "“I could set something up. But it won’t be anything like what you’re imagining,” he warns, though the faintest glimmer of a smile tugs at his lips. “You might hate it.”

"I highly doubt it." Your grin widens, and you step closer. "The camera loves me."

He struggles to disagree.

You follow Wonwoo into a dimly lit loft space. The high ceilings make the place feel vast and open, but the shadows, thick and heavy, seem to swallow any trace of warmth. The windows let in just enough light to make the space feel like it’s holding its breath. Concrete floors, industrial beams, exposed brick—this place is a world apart from the glamorous venues he's captured you in so far. 

There's no luxurious set, no artfully arranged props, no stylists running around with last-minute adjustments. Just you and him. And a collection of cameras, lenses, and other mysterious equipment scattered about the space.

"We'll start here," Wonwoo's voice is firmer than he intends, and he hopes you can hear the edge of excitement underneath his words. He’s already moving toward the equipment, setting up the camera on a tripod with a smooth, practised hand.

You take a deep breath, looking a little more nervous than he expected. "What's the concept? Just… me in a room full of shadows?” You try to make light of it, but your voice betrays a hint of apprehension.

He glances over his shoulder, catching your gaze for the briefest moment, and his lips curl into a faint smile. “Something like that. I want to capture you as you are, not as the world expects you to be.”

He steps toward you, then pauses. “But it’s up to you. You can be whoever you want to be in front of the camera.”

You take a breath, almost like you're accepting something, and step deeper into the room. Wonwoo can feel his pulse pick up just a little. Something about your movements makes it hard to look away, even as he tries to keep his focus on the camera. 

As his gaze probes deeper, Wonwoo realises something. You're so used to being a perfect image that now, here, in the quiet, you have no idea what to do with yourself.

His breath catches as he presses the shutter for the first time. The soft click breaks the silence, but he doesn't lower the camera. His eyes stay on you, unable to tear away; even if he should be focused on the technicalities - the lighting, the exposure, the composition - he's not. He's seeing the cracks. The little parts of you that you've been hiding. 

Another click. And another. His fingers move over the controls, adjusting the focus, framing you just so - but all the while, acutely aware of every tiny shift in your body. The way you inhale, the way you let go of something hidden, and your shoulders relax, just slightly. 

"Good," he murmurs, though he barely recognises his own voice. The words are soft, his tone low, almost like a breath rather than a command.

You shift again. There's no thought to it, just a fluid movement, as if you're letting go of some invisible restraint. It's an instinctive thing, Wonwoo realises. You're not really posing anymore.

The camera clicks again, capturing the stillness in you, the way you seem to dissolve into the shadows, becoming part of the room. Part of the moment. He knows instantly that it's going to be his favourite.

For a split second, he wonders if you know what you're doing to him. If you know how you're affecting him, even without meaning to. His heart beats a little faster. 

He doesn't lower the camera, not yet, not wanting to lose the moment.

"Okay, that's enough," he says finally, voice low and deliberate. Even as he says it, he's not sure if he wants to stop. He wants more. But it's not just the image he's chasing now. It's something else. 

You reemerge, the colour of your confidence returning as you step out of the camera frame. "Was that okay?"

Wonwoo isn't completely sure what to say in response. If he should tell you that he wants to restart the entire feature, or that he's never felt like he's seen anyone as much as he just did. So he nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I want you to see the full vision, so I'll show you once they're edited, but I think they're going to be the best ones."

A beaming smile is released onto your face. It's heart-wrenchingly endearing how proud you are of yourself. "I'm so glad. I don't know if you noticed, but I was a little nervous about this one."

He lets out a little chuckle, his head hanging slightly as he looks to the floor, trying to hide the smile tugging at his lips. "I couldn't tell. You were," he clears his throat, hands moving to adjust the settings on the camera again, "perfect. And I mean it. It's ... not just the shot. It's you." The words come out in a rush, but even as he says them, he’s certain they’re true.

He wonders, fleetingly, if you hear the difference. If you sense the subtle change in his tone—the way he can’t quite look away from you now, the way his eyes linger just a little too long.

You don’t respond immediately, and for a brief, agonising second, he’s unsure of how you’ll take it. Will you laugh it off? Will you brush it aside with that carefree charm you wear like a second skin?

But then, your smile softens, your gaze a little less playful, and you step closer. "Do we need any more?"

"I don't think so," he pauses. "Unless there's anything you want to try?"

"Well..." You look nervous, like you're trying to make your mind up about something. Your fingers play absently with the sleeve of your shirt, tugging at the fabric as if it’s a lifeline. "Maybe ... maybe I could try something different?"

Wonwoo's eyes flicker up to meet yours. He's not quite sure what you're asking, and it both terrifies and excites him in ways he's not ready to admit. He leans back slightly, considering it.

"It's your shoot," he says softly, "If you want to do something different, we can. You sound like you've got something in mind?"

You exhale slowly, and the air feels thick, drawn tight with possibility. There’s a hesitation in the way you look at him, but then you take a step forward, your presence commanding yet gentle, a stark contrast to the vulnerability in your eyes.

"The photos in your studio," your voice is soft and low, as though the words themselves are a kind of confession. "The ones ... with no clothes." Your gaze flickers briefly, almost shy, before you steady yourself again. "I want to try that. I want to see what that feels like."

Wonwoo blinks at you, his breath hitching for just a second as the words register. His fingers instinctively tighten around the camera, but he doesn’t lower it. He can’t look away from you now.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice rougher than he intended, though it’s more a response to the sudden surge of emotions than anything else. The suggestion itself isn’t unfamiliar, but the weight of it, coming from you, catches him off guard.

You nod slowly. 

He breathes slowly, trying to steady himself, but the air feels tight, like his lungs have forgotten how to expand properly. Wonwoo clears his throat, suddenly aware of the weight of the camera in his hands—of how utterly out of place it feels now. He thought he had control of this situation, of this shoot, of everything. And now he feels entirely, completely, out of control.

"Okay," he says finally, voice low, his throat dry.

You exhale, a small, almost imperceptible breath of relief, and for a moment, you both just stand there. Wonwoo watches you, his gaze tracing the small movements of your fingers, the way you breathe, the slight shift in your posture. You’re standing there, raw and vulnerable in a way that no one else ever sees, and yet you’ve asked him to witness it.

His chest tightens.

"Whenever you're ready," he murmurs, trying to sound as professional as possible, but the words come out softer than he means. He takes a step back, his heart pounding louder now, but he’s not sure if it’s from the anticipation of the shot or something else entirely.

You move slowly, agonisingly slowly, towards the chair that's hidden in the corner of the room and pull it into the camera frame. The clip holding your hair back is the first thing to go, and even watching you shake the tresses free feels like a glimpse of something he's not meant to see. Wonwoo's breath hitches as your fingers hesitate against the buttons of your shirt.

You look up at him, eyes glittering in the light of the loft. "Can you talk me through it?"

Wonwoo gulps, his brain desperately trying to keep a tether to his thoughts. 

His voice is strained when he finally speaks, a quiet rasp that betrays his nerves. "I - uh - yeah. Sure." He clears his throat again, trying to steady himself. "Just take your time. There's no rush. I want you to feel comfortable."

You nod, but your gaze doesn’t leave him. It’s heavy, almost expectant, and Wonwoo feels it pressing down on him like the air in the room has thickened with each passing second.

His heart races, and he forces himself to look away from you, staring at the camera for a moment to regain some semblance of control. But when he finally glances back, there’s no denying it: you're not just in front of the camera. You're right there, your presence inescapable. The air crackles between you, an invisible thread pulling you closer despite the distance.

You slowly unbutton your shirt, each movement measured and deliberate. The soft rustle of fabric seems deafening in the silence. Wonwoo tries to focus on the camera - on the framing, the lighting - by the sight of you undoing the buttons is sending jolts through him, making it hard to concentrate.

"Wait, stop." He's struggling to get out more than a few words, but he realises he has to explain himself as your head whips around, alarmed. "That shot - if you push the shoulder down a little -"

"I'm not sure I quite get it," your voice is a quiet invitation. He doesn't know if its a test, or something far more dangerous than that. 

He moves slowly, not wanting to startle you. And, if he's being honest, not sure that he can handle being any closer. But he's started now, and he can't not go through with it just because he's nervous about seeing skin. Focusing on his task, Wonwoo's hands gingerly pull the loose fabric of your shirt, draping it down the side of your upper arm, the fabric slipping with an almost unbearable grace, revealing the curve of your shoulder, the soft line of your skin. Wonwoo feels his pulse spike, his breath coming in shallow bursts as his fingers brush against the bare skin of your arm. It’s delicate, unintentional contact, but it feels like an electric shock, jarring and intimate all at once.

You hold your breath, your gaze fixed on his hands, your body still. 

“Just like that,” he says, his voice quiet, as though speaking louder might shatter this delicate balance between you. “Now, tilt your head just a little to the left. Keep your eyes soft... like you're looking into something just out of reach.”

Your eyes flicker, a knowing glint passing through them. “Like I’m seeing something I shouldn’t?”

Wonwoo’s stomach tightens, a shiver creeping down his spine at the way you put it. His hands hover over the camera, but for a moment, he forgets the frame, forgets everything except the weight of the moment.

"Exactly," he breathes, almost afraid to admit it aloud, but the words escape him. He’s standing so close now, every muscle in his body taut, straining against the pull of something he doesn't know how to define.

You do as he asks, your eyes softening, lips parting ever so slightly, as if you’re leaning into the invitation.

The camera shakes in his hands, and for a second, he worries that you’ll notice the tremor, that you'll see how much this is affecting him. But you don’t. Your focus is unwavering.

“Can you… can you move your hand to your collarbone?” he murmurs, barely trusting himself to speak the request aloud. “Just… trace it, like it’s the only thing you’re focused on.”

You nod, and there’s an eerie stillness in the air as your fingers drift up to the curve of your neck. Wonwoo feels like he’s drowning, like every movement you make pulls him deeper into this quiet, dangerous place between photographer and subject, between the lens and the reality unfolding just beyond it.

Each click of the shutter feels like a bullet leaving a gun.

Your fingers are back on the buttons before he can realise that the moment has moved on, and you let the shirt fall, the fabric slipping to the floor with a soft whisper. He can’t breathe for a moment.

You stand before him, unguarded, vulnerable, and yet there’s something about the way you hold yourself—so composed, so intentional—that makes him swallow back every word that he tries to form.

Your eyes lock onto his again, and it’s like time stops. “How’s the lighting?” Your voice is steady, calm, but the tension in it is undeniable.

Wonwoo’s throat is dry as he forces himself to focus. "The light... it's perfect." He clears his throat, his voice tight. "You look perfect. Just... just keep moving, slowly. Let the camera catch it all."

You nod, your lips curling into that familiar smile that has him reeling.

Wonwoo’s pulse quickens, but he doesn’t dare look away. He’s caught in the gravity of your gaze, drawn into the quiet intensity of the moment. He raises the camera, his fingers trembling just slightly as he adjusts the lens. The click of the shutter still sounds harsh, but it doesn’t break the tension.

Wonwoo almost drops the camera when your fingers hook around the loops of your pants. 

You slide them off in fluid motion, far quicker than the shirt. The smile on your face is more playful now, taunting and teasing. "What were those poses again?" 

Wonwoo’s breath catches in his throat, his hands freezing just above the camera as the image of you in front of him—the subtle arch of your back, the way your skin catches the light—burns itself into his memory. He can’t look away, and it’s like everything in the room sharpens.

"Stop," he whispers, his voice shaking. "You’re—"

He cuts himself off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. How could he describe the storm he feels brewing inside of him? The way his pulse is beating in time with the shutter clicks. The way he’s watching you, but feels like he’s barely holding onto himself, like the space between him and you has closed to a point where it feels impossible to stay just the photographer.

“Stop?” you repeat, tilting your head, the playful glint in your eyes both a challenge and an invitation. "You want me to stop?"

"I—" He clears his throat, trying to force his words into something coherent. You take a step closer, and the words fail him. 

You stop a few inches away from him, your breath mingling with his, and for a split second, you both stand there, locked in a stare that feels like an eternity. Wonwoo's heart races, and he can hear the rush of blood in his ears, but the sound of your breath, shallow and steady, is louder than everything else.

“Wonwoo,” you whisper, and the way you say his name—so softly, so deliberately—has his chest tightening even more.

His heart stutters for a second, and before he can think about it, before he can second-guess himself, he lowers the camera, his hand almost involuntarily reaching for you.

“Are you sure?” he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper.

You don’t say anything at first. Instead, your fingers brush against the fabric of his shirt, dancing between the creases. The world seems to spin a little.

“I’m sure,” you reply, your voice steady but low. “Are you?”

Wonwoo’s pulse thunders in his ears, and he thinks he's nodding his head, but he's not sure. He swears he can feel the heat radiating off of you in waves. The tension is almost unbearable now, and his hands are shaking so badly that he’s not sure if he should step back or close the space completely.

Before he can decide, you close the gap for him, your lips brushing against his in the gentlest of kisses. It’s soft at first, tentative—like you’re both waiting for the other to pull away—but when Wonwoo doesn’t, you deepen it just enough to make his head spin.

Everything—his thoughts, his control, his self-restraint—fractures.

He pulls you closer, his hand finding the curve of your back as he deepens the kiss. He can feel you shiver as his warm hands trace the exposed skin. He has to hold back a guttural moan at the feeling of your body pressed against his.

Your hands have found his hair, tangling your fingers through the strands and feeding off of the reactions, tugging a little every time he grumbles against your lips. A small gasp leaves your lips as he pulls away from your mouth, burying into your neck, which stretches prettily with each biting kiss he leaves. 

"Is this how all your photo shoots go?" Even with your head tilted back, voice breathy as his fingers grasp onto your waist, you still find time to tease him. A small whine leaves you as his lips abandon your skin.

"You'll believe me if I say no?" His throat is scratchy, his voice raw, and it comes out more as a question. 

You laugh. "Yes - I, yes, I believe you."

The silence feels unbearably tension, like both of you are trying to blindly navigate the other's feelings. Neither comfortable enough to take the next step forward.

"What did -"

"I thought -"

Your words stumble together as you search for the right way to break the tension. Wonwoo stops, not pressing you to continue, but his grip tightens on your waist slightly, a silent question hanging in the air. 

"I was just - I wasn't sure you'd want to do this, too." You finally say. You still have that teasing smile, but your voice is small, almost unsure. 

"I do," his voice is low, rough, and there's something tender there too. "I really do."

Your lips twitch upwards, a fleeting smile curving the corners of your mouth as you move closer again. "Then, what happens next?"

Wonwoo's head darts around, looking around the dim loft. There's nothing there, other than his equipment and a few chairs - nothing particularly helpful in this scenario. Although, he should admit, he wasn't expecting anything like this when he'd set it up.

"We could go somewhere else, if that's what you want to do?"

Your eyes follow his gaze, realising the dilemma.

"But I'm already half undressed." You bat your eyelashes innocently, and he knows you're fully aware of what you're doing to him. Yet, that doesn't prevent his trousers from feeling way too tight. 

"I-" his breath catches, his fingers digging into your side. "I guess we'll have to stay here then."

"I guess so," you grin, and he wants nothing more than to pull you back in. So, he does. It's messy, primal, a tangle of limbs as your hands sloppily undo his shirt and his look for anything and everything he can reach. He doesn't miss your noise of appreciation when his shirt falls to the floor. 

Soon, his hands are wrapped around your thighs, pulling you up in one swift motion and carrying you until you hit the nearest wall. You're panting, your eyes wild and hair tangled as you grab at his neck, pulling his lips back to yours. 

It's not long before the rest of your clothes join the others on the floor. He feels a flutter of shyness as you take him in, eyes roaming across his body. But you're smiling, wide and joyful, the soft flesh of your thighs squeezing tighter on his hips. 

"Fuck, I always thought you were hot, but I can't believe you were hiding this underneath those baggy sweaters."

Wonwoo can feel the blush running up his neck like a schoolboy being complimented for the first time. His heart is hammering in his chest, a warm rush spreading through him from head to toe as he tries to work out what his eyes should be focusing on.

"I wasn’t expecting any of this. You... you’re making me nervous," he admits with a shy laugh, his hands feeling clammy against your skin. "I mean, I'm sure I'm not the first person to say you're beautiful, but I think you're so much more than what they see."

Your smile softens for a moment, and you reach forward, fingers grazing lightly over his arm, the touch sending a shiver down his spine. "I'd like you to know all of me."

The words are soft, tender, and you can probably hear his heart fluttering. And, all at the same time, the implication of them is making more than his heart flutter. 

"You're sure?" His body presses against yours even more, pushing your back further into the wall behind you. 

"Please," you nod breathily, and that's all he needs. "I want you."

His hips grind against you, head swirling at the feeling as your arms wrap around his neck for stability. "I don't have-" he manages to choke out. 

"It's fine, I'm on the pill. Just - just fuck me, please?"

His head buries into your shoulder, body twitching at your words. Pushing inside of you, the pleasure is immediate. Your hips are moving back onto him as far as you can against the wall, and his hands are firmly clenched around the flesh of your ass, holding you up in an iron grip. And you sound so good, and - more than that, you feel so good, so unbelievably good, that he's gasping out your name between thrusts.

Nonsensical words are babbling out of your mouth too; hot, dirty words of praise that only spur him on further. Your nails dig into his back, and then his hair, and then back again, like you can't pick which part of him you want to touch more. 

And fuck, you're so beautiful. Like a goddess in the low lighting of the room - but he's too scared to tell you that just yet. Soft and hard and warm against him, surrounding him, engulfing him. 

It's not long before he can feel you clenching around him, one hand clinging onto his shoulders and the other snaking between your legs. The muscles of his arms are burning slightly, but it feels too good to stop now. You're dragging him with you, panting moans with each pulse. You press your lips against his one more time, and it's all it takes to push you both over the edge.

After a few moments, he lifts his head from your shoulder and looks at you, a tender smile on his face. His lips press against yours gently, sighing with soft pants.

"Shit," You breathe, a small giggle bubbling out of you. The sound is so sweet it knocks any remaining wind out of him. 

Wonwoo chuckles, his thumb gently tracing the curve of your jaw as he holds you in place.

Your smile is warm and teasing, and you press your lips to his for a second longer. "If I had the camera, I'd capture that look forever."

[thekoalapastriesbakery]

TURN OUT FINE PART 1

logan sargeant x australian!male!driver!reader

PART ONE / PART TWO

summary: being an f1 driver was enough for most people—including your boyfriend—but after he gets dropped mid-season, you decide it's time for something more.

warnings: mild angst, reader isn't particularly interactive, not a lot of writing, mostly told through instagram posts, based on the song turn out fine by henrik

youruser

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 892200 others

youruser i was overthinking

                comments

user1 i love how even when he's struggling he's like priority #1 is humiliate the grid liked by youruser, alex_albon, and others

user2 no don't overthink you're so sexy aha

user3 IS THAT A SOFT LAUNCH???

user4 FR WHY IS NOBODY TALKING ABT THIS???

user5 call me crazy but that is a man as well liked by pierregasly, zhouguanyu24, and others

user6 user5 nurse she's out again

user5 YOU'LL SEE

user7 how is his feed still aesthetic when he's depressed AND making fun of people

youruser

liked by jackdoohan, olliebearman, and 929106 others

youruser my mama was right

                comments

user8 where did you get that shirt i need it

youruser sorry love, went op shopping and it doesn't have a tag :(

user8 adhggffieyhsldk

user9 i think she's broken

user10 man i would be too if THEEE y/n l/n called me love

user11 user10 🤨

user10 user 11 no babe look away this doesn't concern you

user12 is nobody gonna ask what op shopping is? liked by charles_leclerc, nicorosberg, and others

user13 LMAO NOT THE DRIVERS LIKING THIS AS IF THEY COULDN'T JUST ASK HIM liked by youruser

user14 op shopping is what aussies call thrift shopping!

fernandoalo_oficial am i what the kids call a meme

youruser yes 👍

user15 is that a man in the last slide?

user16 yes? it's y/n?

user15 no i mean with him

user17 i don't think so, i mean y/n doesn't exactly strike me as fruity

user18 user17 you're kidding right? that man could not be gayer if he TRIED

youruser

liked by paularon_, prema_team, and 782919 others

youruser chase what you believe in

                comments

user19 go dad!

kimimatiasraikkonen 😐

youruser 🧊🧍‍♂️!!!

kimimatiasraikkonen 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦🍝?

youruser 👍 liked by kimimatiasraikkonen

user20 did they really just make dinner plans in an instagram comments section?

user21 slides 3+4 making me want a y/n.jpg acc :(

user22 WHY IS HE STILL SOFT LAUNCHING

user23 don't be shy dad we'll be nice

user24 no we won't

user25 no we won't

youruser no you won't

yukitsunoda0511 why did you use that photo ?

youruser sorry its my brand to make fun of people

yukitsunoda0511 i made you sushi ???

youruser and i'm very grateful! 🙃

user26 oh he really does not gaf 😭

yukitsunoda0511 user26 🥲

youruser

liked by f1, scuderiaferrari, and 2345890 others

youruser it won't happen overnight 🫶

                comments

user27 aww who's the kitty?

youruser smoky!

user28 forget the kitty who are you KISSING? liked by jensonbutton, lewishamilton, and others

user29 user28 lol even the grid dads wanna know

mickschumacher 🫶?

youruser 🫶

mickschumacher 🫶!

user30 what if it's mick??

user31 okay grandma let's get you back to bed

user5 it's defo a driver but i'm thinking logan!

user6 please stop

user5 user6 you're no fun

georgerussell63 IT WAS AN EMOTIONAL MOMENT OKAY

youruser i think your face made that pretty clear but thanks 👍

georgerussell63 i regret agreeing to let you be designated driver

youruser tough luck, you're stuck with me

©thekoalapastriesbakery :: please do not copy or rewrite my work on any platform !!

author's note: second ever smau, i was in a logan mood when i wrote this. part two coming soon!

comments + reblogs appreciated!

credits: pinterest for the photos!

taglist: @raizelchrysanderoctavius @crispysoup318 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @spoonfulofmilo

[latenightdaydreams]

König x First Meeting (fem)

MDNI🔞

I'm sorry for not posting as often as I usually do! There has been a lot of things going on in my personal life, but I promise to be back on my normal schedule soon! ILY all and thank you so much for everyone's patience and grace🩷 I hope you all have a great day/night!!

Master List ✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, fluff, sexual thoughts

1.4k word count.

📻

.

.

Over the last three years, you’ve always just been a soft voice on the other side of König’s radio. What was first professional talk only quickly turned into deep conversations and flirting. Every mission he can rely on you to always be there. You’ve been able to help him out of terrible situations, causing the bond to grow stronger. It helps that your voice is so feminine and soothing to him.

Even though you both have never met face to face, he’s developed deep feelings for you. Other than your first name, he knows nothing about you. Are you married? Do you like men? That doesn’t really matter; men like König aren’t built for relationships, so he’s never sought you out. Why ruin something good?

König has just returned from a successful mission, his team put together a small party at the local bar for him. He sat at the bar with Horangi as everyone else spread out across the bar. In the middle of the story Horangi was telling him, he hears your voice. His eyes widen as he looks around trying to find you. Then you speak again.

The light coming in from the windows behind you formed a halo of golden rays around your body, framing your stunning shape. It’s as if König was looking at an angel, a dream come true. He places a hand on Horangi’s shoulder as to excuse himself as his feet guide him to you.

“Y/n? Is that really you?” König asks as his eyes travel all over your body as he stops a few feet from you.

“König!” You respond in such a happy tone, your lips curving into the sweetest smile he’s ever seen. He is a massive man; in height and in muscle mass. While you can’t see his face, you can see his beautiful pale eyes.

“Y- you’re here. In the flesh.”

He is trying his best to be respectful, but finding it hard to take his eyes away from your body. To see you, the body, the face, to match your voice; he feels as if this just confirms that he’s in love with you. This is exactly what he was worried would happen if you two ever met.

“It’s nice to finally meet you face to face.” His eyes meet yours once more as he holds his hand out for you to shake.

The sweet familiar giggle leaves your lips as you brush past his hand and wrap your arms around him for a hug. “There’s no need to be so formal.” You tease, causing his cheeks to turn red underneath his mask.

König wraps his arms around you, returning the hug. You’re so much smaller than him that your head barely reaches his chest. He leans down slightly and takes a deep breath. You smell like a breezy spring day. Everything about you screams home to him, he came picture himself coming home every day and burying his head between your breasts and letting the stress of the day melt off.

When the hug ends, he can still feel his body tingle where you touched him. His icy blue eyes are stuck on you, trying to study every little part of you that he can. He notices your eyes travel over his body as well, giving him an ego boost.

“Congratulations on your work.” You say grabbing his gloved hand.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Süße.” His voice is barely above a whisper as he squeezes your hand slightly. There are so many words fighting to be said, but he doesn’t know where to begin. “Would you like to sit together and chat?”

“I would.”

Horangi turns in his seat to see König walking hand in hand with you. He raises his eyebrow and shrugs, getting up to join the crowd of people to give you both some time alone. You sit, sliding into one side of the booth and König ops to sit beside you verses across from you. He can’t take his eyes off of you or stop touching you. Three years of only knowing your voice. Three years of joking, flirting, and life saving advice.

“You’re a lot taller than I thought you’d be.” You say softly as you gaze down at his hand caressing your upper thigh through the fabric of your jeans. The sexual tension between the both of you is insane.

König chuckles at your comment while nodding his head. “I am. I’m a big man, kleine Taube.” Your thighs are so deliciously thick, he can only imagine what they would feel like underneath the fabric of your pants. His eyes drop to your cleavage before traveling back up to your eyes. “It’s crazy to finally put a face to the voice.”

“Hopefully a cute face.” You smirk and chuckle.

“A beautiful face. You’re so beautiful and small.” His face heats up at his words as his mind begins to wander about what it would be like to have you completely to himself.

“Well, thank you König. I can’t see your face but I imagine it’s just as attractive as your voice.”

He leans back in the booth and laughs, shaking his head in disagreement. “I have scars, Taube. Graying hair.” His eyes travel from your eyes to your soft pillowy kissable lips then back up.

“Maybe I’m into that.” You smirk.

It’s just like speaking to you have the radio, you’re just as flirty and confident in person and that’s very attractive to König. His hand on your thigh squeezes twice before he shifts his body to face you more. The hand moves from your thigh so he can remove his gloves, showing off his pale large hands. His fingers dance across your small palm before linking fingers with you. You place your free hand on his arms, caressing his muscular bicep. His pants grow tight on him as he feels his cock begin to harden.

Before anything else can be said, Horangi brings over two shots for the both of you. He has a sly smirk on his face as he passes one to you and then to König. “Celebration shot!” Horangi gleefully shouts.

You reach for yours and then look at König and wait for him to grab his. He does and watches you closely waiting to see what you will do. When you bring the small glass up to your lips and drink the harsh liquor with no reaction his cock twitches. What he wouldn’t give to see your lips wrap around him instead.

König looks at you and lifts up his mask, exposing his lips to you. You can see a scar coming from his cheek down past his lip to his chin. He takes the shot quickly, but before he can drop his mask you lean up and kiss him. Your lips fall on his cheek, but the corners of your lips touch and it drives him mad.

He looks down at you for a moment, not reacting while he attempts to gather his thoughts so he doesn’t just bend you over this table and fuck you in front of the whole bar. One of his hands comes up and caresses the side of your face as he leans in to kiss you again. His lips are soft and delicate at first. Slowly his lips move against yours in a more possessive and passionate heat.

Your lips feel just as soft as clouds, you smell and taste so sweet. His hand slips down your body, wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer to him. The kiss intensifies as he feels your lip’s part. He wastes no time; the tip of his tongue runs across your bottom lip before slipping into your mouth.

A small hum rumbles from his chest as he moves his hand up and down your back, moving to your side to explore your curves. You feel so perfect in his hands. You taste so good on his tongue. There is no one else. You are the one.

König pulls back from the kiss; his eyes look down into yours. All he wants to do is ravish your body and get to know every inch of you, but he knows he should take you out first. You’re more than just a hookup, he can build a future with you. He thinks for a moment, letting his eyes trail down your body once more before speaking. “Would you like to go on a date?”

“I would love to.”

“Tomorrow.”

“What time?”

“I’m free all day, Süße. You can take as much of it as you want.” You could take the air from his lungs and he’d die a happy man.

“I want it all.”

König smirks at your response. His hand lingers on your upper thigh once more, letting his fingers rest on your inner thigh. “You can have it all. Anything for my Taube.”

[dimlylittorch]

soooo this is my first like REAL writing for Ghost :3 idk how but this is my longest writing so far.. 6K+ so yall be warned

My Masterlist🌱

18+ drabble MDNI

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x virgin!chubby!pre-op!transmasc!reader

he’s big and mean but i feel like he would be really soft with sex :((

warnings: slight daddy kink at the end, maybe some insensitive language (fat) it’s good tho i promise, female parts are referred to with said names (i’m pre-op so saying like t-dick is weird for me lol)

tbh this is my first ever like in depth smut so forgive me if it’s bad🙏

You had only recently moved away from your home town, deciding to shack up in a big city with more opportunities. Back home it was hard to make friends- let alone date. Being trans wasn’t easy, let alone being chubby on top of that. You’d never even come close to having a boyfriend.. or a hook up for that matter. But why not go to a big city? You didn’t need to reinvent yourself. You knew you were likeable.. maybe you were just fishing in the wrong pond.

Settling into a small studio apartment wasn’t ideal, but it was home. After moving in and getting into the groove of a new city and a new job.. you decided it was time to try and make friends. Or maybe even a boyfriend. But- we couldn’t set our hopes too high, right? Don’t settle, but don’t expect too much. Something you found yourself repeating constantly.

You’d never gone ‘clubbing’ before. Your home town was small, and the only bars had a lot of old drunkards in them. So you didn’t exactly know what to wear. It was chilly outside- you could work with that. You knew you wanted to look cute. Picking out a fitted turtle neck, you adding a pair of nice pants to wear with a belt. And boots! That made the whole look.

Well. You thought that would make the look. It turns out people don’t really.. wear clothes like that to clubs. Girls in short dresses, guys in plain shirts.. you definitely stood out. Thank god it was a little dark in there as you walked through the crowded club, drink in hand. You could try to dance.. but you knew you wouldn’t be a huge fan of getting shoved around or groped. What did people even do at clubs? I guess it’s not very interesting if you’re not with people.

With a sigh you walk along the back, eventually settling against the brick wall that led into the back hallways of the club. You stood near one of the back doors, sipping on your drink as you people watched. It was something you’d gotten used to- seeing other people live. Be human. Be real. There wasn’t anything as humbling as that.

When you hear the slam of a door, you look off to your left down the hallway. A large man lumbered out of the door, pushing a smaller man against the wall before practically tossing him aside. The larger man had a man or two behind him.. bodyguards? It’s dark and hard to make out much, but you see a flicker of light for a split second.

As the large man walks to exit the hallway, that’s when you see really how tall he is. Definitely over six feet, large muscles with a lit cigar in hand. As he glances around the club, his eyes eventually fall on your small form, shrunk back against the wall. His eyes trailed over your unusual outfit. What was a little thing like you doing in a place like this? When your eyes met his you quickly looked downcast, taking a sip of your drink. God, he was tall.

Stalking over to you, he stops only a foot or so in front of you. “Ya look lost” he says lowly as he stares down at you.

Looking up at him with slightly wide eyes, you chuckle awkwardly. “Well.. looks like someone found me”

He huffs at your words, crouching down every so slightly to be more on your level. “We ‘ave a dress code here, yknow” he says gruffly.

Your eyes narrow and you quickly look down at your outfit. “What?” You question. “I’m dressed nice-“ you start to say.

“Tha’s the problem, love” he mutters. “Ya gotta look slutty in a joint like this. Or like a bum.”

You stare up at him with disbelief. “This- this is the tightest shirt I have!” You scoff as you put your hands on your hips. “You want people to look trashy?”

He chuckles as he looks down at your turtle neck with an amused look. “Tha’ trashier they look tha’ more money they spend.” He muses. “You ain’t spending a pretty penny at a place like this, eh?”

“You talk like you own the place” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Tha’ I do” he smirks. “Now- get outta my club. Pretty bird like you ‘ill get roughed up.” He murmurs as he opens the back door, waiting for you to leave.

You look up at him with a glare. “Are you kidding me? What if I want to enjoy myself?”

He sighs, letting the door close and leaning down. “Lovie.. yer standin’ against tha’ wall. You havin’ fun?”

You open your mouth to speak, but slowly close it again. He was right. You weren’t having fun. Looking downcast, you cross your arms over your chest again. “What do people here even do for fun?” You mutter. “Other than getting drunk.”

He hums, standing up and glancing around the club. “My.. patrons” he mutters. “Come ‘ere for booze, drugs or sex.” Leaning down again, his eyes meet your own. “Which one will it be?”

And that.. was how you found yourself following the large man who you later learned’s name was Simon upstairs to the second floor of the club. Of those three, you figured you’d go with the last. Something you’d like to experience, at least. What you didn’t expect, was for him to invite you on up. As the two of you reach the top of the stairs, he unlocks a door and when you step inside you realize- he lived on the second floor.

“Now” he says plainly as he locks the door behind the two of you. “Which team ya’ play for?” He asks as he gestures for you to relax.

“Um.. guys. Men.” You murmur softly as you set your bag on the couch, looking around gently at the neatly furnished apartment.

“Well” he huffs as he walks into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and pouring a drink for himself. “I could use a good fuck. But if ya want someone else we got options” he murmurs with a shrug as he leans over the counter.

Tentatively walking over, you stop on the other side of the counter, eyes downcast. “Can I be honest?”

He chuckles faintly, nodding. “Never lie to a man as big as me, birdie” he smirks.

Leaning over the counter, mirroring his position you gently look up, eyes meeting his own. “I’m a virgin.” You say softly. “And.. um.. female. Technically. But I’m a guy. If that makes sense.”

He pauses at your words, looking down at you silently for a few moments. “Transvestite? Is tha’ what they call ‘em?” He questions.

Pulling a soft laugh from you, you shake your head with amusement. “Transgender. But- good try” you smile softly up at him. “You.. think you got someone for me?” You ask shyly.

He sighs softly, setting his glass down and looking at you. “Ya got me. I wouldn’t trust any other man ta’ take yer virginity” he says quietly. “Men get impatient. They’ll hurt a soft thing like you. But me? Been in the forces. Patience is all I know.”

Looking up at him for a few moments, your eyes soften as they take in his features. You can tell he’s seen combat.. the scars are there to prove it. “Thank you for your service” you say softly as you look downcast, cheeks flushing slightly at the thought of being with him. Sure, he looked rough.. but opposites attract, right?

He snorts at your words, setting his glass down. “Haven’ heard tha’ in a while” he muses. “Look.. yer nervous, I get it. But we ain’t gonna do this if ya aren’t ready.”

Sighing softly, you run your fingers through your hair. “I want to do this.” You say quietly. “I.. I’ve been waiting for a long time, you know? I’m tired of waiting.” You murmur as you push off of the counter, walking around to where he stood and looking up at him. “You don’t have to.. be with me. If I’m not your type.” You clarify as your eyes meet his own. “I’m not exactly the beauty standard or anything” you snort slightly. “But if you want to- I’d like to.”

His eyebrows quirk at your words, a smirk crossing his lips. “I’ve been with jus’ about everyone” he muses. “Yer nothin’ new f’me.. if that brings ya some peace of mind.”

A small sigh of relief leaves you, and you feel yourself relax slightly. “I appreciate that” you sigh. “So.. sex.” You murmur faintly. “Right. We- um.. how do you want to..” you trail off.

Before you can say anything else you feel a heavy hand land on your hip, gently pulling you forward into his chest. Looking up you find him gazing down at you, eyes flitting over your soft form as his fingers gently hook into the hem of your pants, tugging them down ever so slightly to feel the fat of your hip. As you suck in a sharp breath, he reaches with his other hand and grabs your own, pulling yours to rest on his hip. His neck cranes down to brush against your ear, deep words hitting your skin. “Yer allowed ta’ touch me little thing.”

Letting out a shaky breath, your eyes shift downcast to his hip where your hand was frozen. After a faint moment you gently start to feel the hard muscle of his hip, a contrast to your own body. Little did you know how the contrast drove him crazy. Staring down at your soft form made his heart beat faster than it had in weeks. Little birds like you hardly ever came into his club.. soft things that need protecting. He’d quickly grown tired of the usual quick fuck he’d find for himself on a random Tuesday night. You seemed real. And you made him feel real.

“I like your belt.” You whisper faintly, brain growing slightly fuzzy from the entire interaction. You’d grown so touch starved that it was almost overwhelming being able to touch someone freely- even if it was just a clothed hip. “Looks nice with your outfit..” you murmur. A black leather belt that matched the shade of everything else he wore.

He chuckles faintly, breath heavy against your ear. “Could say the same f’r you.” He breathes. “Cute little thing.. overdressed an’ all.”

A small smile crosses your lips when you recognize his teasing tone, your hand tentatively pulling his shirt out of where it was tucked on his left side. Slipping your fingers under his shirt, you gently graze against his toned skin, hard with a nice layer of fat over his stomach. You hear him suck in a breath at your touch, and you look up at him with soft eyes. “This okay?” You whisper.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done things slow. Usually he’d rip off a persons clothes within minutes, eager to get a quick fuck.. that sense of release that lasted for only a few sweet moments. But with you it was different. He didn’t want to push you over the counter. He didn’t want to shove you onto the couch cushions. He wanted to explore. Take his time. Watching you explore his body.. christ, it did something to him. When was the last time he truly enjoyed sex?

“Mhm” he hums lowly. “Ya ain’t even gotta ask.. ya could peg me for all I care” he smirks softly. His heart warms when he hears the laugh that slips past your lips, and he can’t help but place a faint kiss to the skin of your neck, drawing a gasp from you. “Tha’ feel good?” He questions.

Leaning into his touch, you nod slightly. “More than good.” You confess. “Would you do it again?” You whisper after a small moment. “Please?”

He audibly groans when he hears your plea, placing another kiss against your neck, this time with more passion. “Yer like a bunny.. all soft and sweet” he murmurs against your skin.

Feeling your face flush from his lips on your skin, you gently reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as possible. He couldn’t remember the last time he held someone like this.. he’d usually put them on their knees and take them from behind. But he liked how soft you felt in his palms as he pulled you closer, your body melting in his hands.

You shyly bury your face in his neck, placing a small kiss to his skin, earning another groan from him. “Anything in particular you’ve been wantin’ ta’ try?” He hums against your skin as his kisses grow deeper to your skin. “Any positions yer pretty little self thinks abou’ all tha’ time?” He smirks.

Feeling your face flush more you bury yourself against him as much as you can. Letting out a shaky breath, he grins when he hears your words. “Doggy.. looks nice.”

“Tha’ it is” he muses. “You’ll feel me real deep, love.. that what ya’ want? Wanna feel full?” He smirks against your skin.

Whining softly, you can’t help but nod. “Mhm.”

“Alrigh’ then. I’ll get tha’ job done.” He grumbles, making you squeak as he picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he brings you into his bedroom. “Bet ya ain’t never been carried like ya deserve” he huffs as he kicks the bedroom door closed, setting you down gently on the soft blankets and sheets, a nice dark gray color.

Shaking your head no, you can’t help but gaze up at him. “You’re really strong” you whisper softly.

He gently reaches forward, his hand cupping your chin as he stands over you. “Tha’ I am. But yer not heavy either.. nothin’ wrong with bein’ soft. Ya still deserve someone ta carry ya every now and then.” He murmurs as he leans down, his lips meeting your own.

Before you can stop yourself you moan against his lips, your face flushing heavily. He smiles, pulling away and looking at you. “Didn’t know ya could make those pretty sounds, hm?” He muses.

Shaking your head slightly, he reaches down to undo his belt, watching how you swallow slightly, your eyes moving to his crotch. “Ever had a cock in front of ya?” He asks as he pulls his belt off, tossing it aside and unzipping his fly.

When he sees you shake your head no, he sighs. “I’m a little bigger than tha’ average man.” He warns. “Ya ain’t gotta do nothin’ ya don’t want, alrigh’?”

“Okay.” You whisper softly, eyes glued to his crotch. Before he can pull his cock out of his briefs, you gently lean forward to palm him through the fabric. He moans out of surprise at the feeling, hunching over slightly.

“Fuckin’ christ-“ he groans. Before he can say anything else, you lean forward more, pressing your lips to his clothed cock, kissing along the fabric sweetly. He looks down at you with wide eyes, chest already heaving slightly. No one had ever done that before. “Tha hell?” He questions before you look up at him with adoring eyes.

His heart skips a beat when he sees your gaze, completely wide eyed and full of emotion. “Does that feel nice?” You whisper softly. “You feel pretty hard..” you say faintly before you look back down, starting to place open mouthed kisses along his clothed bulge. He curses to himself, placing a hand on your shoulder to keep himself steady. He can feel the heat of your mouth soaking through the fabric onto his cock which was already as hard as it could get. You were practically worshipping him and he had no idea how to handle it.

“Yer driving me wild” he chokes out. “Where tha fuck did ya learn to do tha’?” He asks quickly.

Sighing contentedly against his bulge, you look up at him innocently. “I read a lot” you say softly. “Am I doing it right?”

He laughs breathlessly, slipping one of his heavy hands into your hair. “I think yer doing it better than anyone else has..”

When you feel his hand in your hair you whine weakly, leaning into his touch as your eyes flutter closed. He feels his chest burn when he sees how soft you are- a pretty little thing that just wants to be touched. “C’mere lovie” he says softly as he bends down, picking you up slightly to scoot you further up the bed. “Can tell yer just a cuddle bug.. want ya within an arms reach, hm?”

Nodding quickly at his words, you let him move you up to the headboard, resting your head on the pile of soft silk covered pillows he had. He moves on top of you, knees on either side of your legs as he looks down at you. “Gonna give ya doggy just like ya wanted, alright?” He questions as he pulls his shirt off, tossing it across the room.

Copying his movements, you sit up gently so you can pull your turtle neck off, setting it aside on the edge of the bed, leaving you in your binder. Your face flushes as his eyes trail over your torso, licking his lips slightly. When he sees your embarrassment, he moves his hands to your thighs. “Tell me somethin’ ya like about yourself” he says gruffly.

Your eyes look up to meet his own, a look of confusion on your face. But you don’t question him. “My.. my hair is soft.” You say quietly. He hums, reaching up to run his fingers through your hair once again.

“Tha’ it is. Something else?”

Humming softly, you look down at your body to think. “I.. I like my shoulders.” You whisper faintly. “They’re broad.. for a female. They make me feel more manly.” His head tilts slightly as he moves to look at your shoulders with a soft hum.

“They’ve got little lighting bolts an’ everything” he murmurs, glancing at the stretch marks that lined your body.

“Yeah” you smile softly, your gaze shifting to his torso. “I like your scars.” You add. “I.. I think they’re pretty.”

He can’t help but smile at that. He’d grown to be content with his scars- no longer hating them like he used to. “I think you’re pretty.” He replies with a small smile before leaning forward to kiss your shoulder. Grinning shyly, you can’t help but kiss his cheek.

He lets out a soft breath against your skin, looking up to meet your eyes. “Something ya don’t like?” He whispers. Your smile falters slightly, looking downcast. He can see something pop into your head, but you try to think of something else. “No, no- tell me. Tha’ first thing ya thought of.” He orders.

“It’s embarrassing” you murmur faintly.

“I’ve seen combat” he snorts. “Nothing is embarrassing to me anymore. Be honest.”

Looking away from his gaze, your cheeks felt hot as you tried to put it into words. “I.. well- obviously I don’t look like.. other people in porn.” You murmur as quietly as you can. “I know it’s unrealistic. But.. still.” You sigh. “I’ve never really.. seen anyone with a.. chubbier..” you confess, gesturing down to your crotch.

When he realizes what you mean, he hums, leaning back slightly as he looks down at you. “Ya got a fat cunt, ya mean?” He smirks.

You quickly feel your cheeks flare, reaching up and playfully slapping his chest. “Shut up!” You hiss.

He laughs lowly, smirking as he looks down at you. “Cmon lovie- those are tha’ best kind. Gives a big guy like me more room to work with, eh?”

Laughing shyly at his stupid smirk, you relax some. “I guess that makes sense.” You smile.

“Alrigh’ now- back to business” he chuckles as he grabs the base of your binder, pulling it over your head. His breath hitches when he sees your chest, tossing the binder across the room.

You scoff playfully when he throws your binder. “Hey! Those are expensive-“ you start to say but your words are cut off when his lips touch your chest. You instantly arch into his touch when he pulls you close, his arms wrapping around the middle of your back as he pulls you up into his face, leaning down and placing kisses all along your chest. Blushing heavily you let out shaky breaths, slipping your fingers into his hair. “Si-Simon” you say weakly.

He groans as he sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, teasing at the bud with his tongue while his eyes flutter closed. He pulls off with a faint pop, grabbing your now slick breast with his hand and kneading it. “Christ in heaven” he breathes out as he starts to suck on your other breast.

Whining faintly, you can’t help but tug on his hair slightly. When he feels the tug he lets out a low moan, the vibrations hitting your nipple just right to make your thighs clench around his waist.

Before he can catch himself his hips start to grind against the mattress, making his arms tighten around your body. He hears a moan slip past your lips and he looks up, his clouded eyes meeting your own. “Ya like that?” He murmurs. When you look at him slightly confused, brain clearly fuzzy, he squeezes his arms around you again. When he sees that same look of pleasure he smirks, moving his arms and crawling up on top of you. “is tha’ right.. little thing wants ta’ be held.” He teases as he presses his lips against your own.

Whining at his words you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as possible. “Mhm” you whimper against his lips.

He kisses you deeply, his tongue slipping past your lips for a moment before he pulls away. “Fuck..” he breathes out. “Yer so touch starved even a hug turns you on, eh?” He muses. “Pathetic little thing.”

When he feels how you tense at his last words, he already knows he’s said something wrong. He quickly pulls back, looking down at you. As his eyes search your own, he leans forward to place a small kiss to your forehead. “Sorry love” he says softly. “Only praise for you, yeah? We can work with that” he murmurs.

When you let out a small sigh of relief, his hands shift down to get his pants off the rest of the way. As you move to undo your own belt, he growls softly and takes over, pulling your belt off and tossing it aside before pulling your pants down to your thighs. “Ya know wha’ you are don’t ya?” He murmurs softly as he pulls your pants off the rest of the way. Setting your pants aside, he starts to tug at your briefs as he leans up to whisper against your ear. “Yer a good boy” he smirks against your skin.

You swear your heart stopped for a second when you heard those words. You felt yourself squirm under his touch, and your face felt like it was burning hot. It was one thing reading words like that- but hearing them? Christ.

He chuckles when he sees your reaction, shucking your briefs off as quick as he can. Your legs snap shut, turning your head away with embarrassment. “Ah, ah pretty boy” he muses as he pulls your hips down closer to his own, pulling your thighs open. “Don’t ya wanna show off f’me?”

Whimpering slightly when the cold air hits your cunt, you bury your face into the silk covered pillows. Your body was already on fire, just from the way he touched you. Being exposed like this was awful- but amazing at the same time. You’d finally done it.. let someone see you like this.

“Fuck me” he groans when his eyes lock on your cunt. “Let me eat him, yeah? Treat him real nice, promise lovie” he says almost pleadingly as he gets onto his stomach, wrapping his arms around your thighs so he can hold you in place. “An’ would ya look at that” he smirks. “Not even a little wet..” he teases, his hot breath fanning over your skin, making your thighs tighten around his head. “An’ why is that? Sweet boy like you.. thought you would’a been leaking for me” he smirks.

Breathing heavily as you hide your face away, you can only whine in reply. You shiver when you feel two large calloused fingers rub against the lips of your cunt, spreading them open as wide as they can go. “f-fuck” you gasp out weakly when you feel your slick start to spill out slightly, shaking in his hold.

“There he is” he muses. “Ya weren’t lying about havin’ a soft cunt, were ya? Little pussy is so tight it keeps all those juices inside, yeah?” He chuckles, slipping a finger into your tight hole. “God almighty yer tight.. squeezing my finger like a vice sweet boy” he sighs. When he hears you whimper at the intrusion, he coos softly. “Be a big boy f’me.. I promise ya can take it baby. Just a little finger.. it’s my cock ya gotta worry about.”

“too b-big” you whine softly.

With a sigh, he withdraws his finger, slipping it into his mouth and sucking it clean. “Ya really are a sweet boy.. cunt’s made of honey” he hums. “I know what I want.. flip over love” he orders.

With a shaky breath you follow his command, moving onto your knees. You look back for instruction, eyes hazy. Before you can say anything Simon has moved onto his back, scooting himself under your legs. He’s also gotten rid of his briefs, his hard cock now hanging heavy in his hand. “Gonna ride my face, alrigh’ baby boy? Want ya to soak me” he says gruffly as he’s face to face with your pussy.

You stare down at him for a moment, clearly hesitant. He rolls his eyes, grabbing your thighs and pulling you down before you can protest. A sharp gasp leaves your lips as his tongue laps at your tight hole for a few moments, the feeling making you grab the headboard. As much as you don’t want to crush him, he makes your legs give out almost instantly, pussy pressed right against his face. You sit there for a moment trying to gather yourself, but you feel a slap to your ass, making you flinch. When you do so your hips buck, and his nose hits your clit.

“Holy fuck” you choke out, quickly repeating the action, chasing that same pleasure. As his crooked nose bumps against your clit over and over you repeatedly cry out, quickly covering your mouth. With another spank to your ass, your hand falls away and he pulls away for a moment.

“The second ya stay quiet the second I stop.. means m’doing somethin’ wrong” he says plainly before returning to your now soaked cunt. Looking over your shoulder you get a glimpse of how his hips are bucking up into his hand, pumping his cock eagerly. The sight makes a wave of slick pour out of you, greeted by and groan and a quick tongue. “Simon” you whine when his tongue slips over your clit, circling the bud before sucking it into his mouth making you moan out sharply.

You can barely make out what he says into your cunt, but you can tell he’s enjoying himself. “fucking christ- suffocate me love” he groans as he laps at your clit. “Yeah- yeah fuck- can’t wait to get my cock in this hole.. gonna suck me in so good, can already tell” he rambles through huffs of trying to catch his breath.

After a few more moments you find yourself leaning over, barely able to hold yourself up anymore. “f-feels funny” you whimper, your hips slowly down but he grabs onto them, forcing them over his face as hard as he can. “Simon! it feels weird” you say quickly, voice slightly frantic.

He groans against you, slapping your ass again. “gonna feel so good baby” he promises as he sucks at your clit. “gonna make you lose yourself, I swear” he promises. Before you can say anything else you feel a large rush of slick pour out of you, crying out as your face feels a rush of heat. You try to speak, but no words can form, only weak moans of pleasure. “Fucking hell- yeah sweetheart, let me drink ya dry” he sighs as you cum on his face. He keeps your hips going, making sure to drag out your orgasm for as long as he can. “good boy- good fucking boy”

Breathing heavily, you can’t help but whine at his words, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. “simon” you plead, your pussy sensitive to his tongue.

He sighs softly, a faint air of disappointment in his tone as he pulls you off of him, sitting himself up and moving you into his lap. “I got ya” he says softly as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. “Ya did so well.. never woulda’ thought ya were a first timer. Yer cunt loves attention, hm?” He muses against your ear. You whine faintly in reply, curling up in his arms as you try to slow your breathing. His heavy hand rubs along your back, holding you as close as he can. “Perfect, you are” he murmurs against your ear. “God, that cunt feels good. Ya realize that yeah? Felt good getting my tongue sucked like that, hm? Fat lips returning the favor.. bet they were disappointed it wasn’t my cock” he breaths against your skin.

As you rest against him, he can’t help but reach down to rub your clit a little more. “Simon..” you warn tiredly, your eyes looking up to meet his own. “Need a minute”

He sighs softly as he looks down at you. “My cock disagrees” he chuckles faintly, moving his hand to his hard dick and slapping his upwards against your cunt making you gasp. “C’mere- gonna fuck ya in doggy like ya wanted” he murmurs as he turns you onto your knees once more. Not having the energy to keep yourself up on your hands, you let your face rest against the pillows. “Good boy.. head down ass up, right? Ya already know the drill” he smirks as he gently taps the tip of his cock at your entrance.

Your voice has become hoarse from moaning, so how your noises were weak and gravelly. A groan slipped past your lips as your hands grasped at the blankets, back arching your ass into the air. He smirks at the sight, letting his tip rub up against your clit. “Silly boy.. say yer not ready but then ya put yer ass up begging for it”

“fuck- fuck si” you choke out when he rubs his fat cock against your slit, the tip bumping against your clit repeatedly. “please-“ you whimper.

“Oh? Now ya want it in? Fickle little thing you are..” he muses, but before you can reply the head of his dick prods at your tight entrance making you gasp. “Oh fucking hell.. i was right baby- yer fat cunt makes it ten times better, i swear” he groans.

You practically squeal at the initial little stretch, slapping your hand onto the mattress as you try not to cry out. Simon quickly leans over you, resting his head next to yours as he whispers against your ear.

“Cmon lovie- yer alright.. promise baby boy- you’re doin’ so good for daddy. ya wanna call me that? ya can if it helps” he says sweetly against your skin.

You let out a weak sob at his words, tears spilling from your eyes as he puts the tip in completely. “daddy” you choke out faintly. You knew you had a bit of a daddy kink- but you didn’t think it would come out for your first fuck.. turns out it helped with it all. Made you feel safer.. more cared for. “daddy- b-burns” you plead.

Simon groans as he slips in a little further, his chest heaving from how tight you are. “I know baby- fuck, i know.. burns for daddy too” he chokes out. “fuck, your little hole is tight. gotta work ya open a little more, okay lovie? half way there”

Whining sharply as he presses further in, you’re gasping for breath from the sensation. You suddenly feel his fingers on your clit, swirling quickly to relieve some of the burning sensation. “That feel nice?” He whispers against your skin. “i bet it does.. makes ya all wet f’me. yer doin’ such a good job.. such a good boy for daddy” he murmurs against your skin as he places soft kisses along your shoulder.

With his large body encompassing yours, you’d never felt so safe. He was all you could feel, completely surrounding you and your senses. The entire world faded away except for him. “fuck- feels good” you whisper pleadingly.

“there we go.. that’s it” he says softly as he bottoms out, fingers still circling your clit. “you did it baby.. daddy’s gonna make you feel good, alright? promise ya- promise it’ll feel good.”

With a weak nod, you let your face fall back against the mattress. You hiss as he starts to pull back out, but when he pushes back in it’s not nearly as bad as the first time. And what definitely helps is hearing him right in your ear. Heaving grunts and groans as his hips buck up into you, getting faster as you open up more.

“God- your fat pussy is sucking me in so good” he chokes out against your skin. “Ya hear that?” He moans, referring to the loud smack of his hips against your wet cunt. “Ya hear how good this cunt is? Holy fuck baby- gonna keep this all for myself- how’s tha’ sound? Letting me suck on this cunt every day? Promise I’ll pound ya this good every time” he pleads against your ear.

Moaning sharply as his balls smack up to meet your clit, you tilt your ass up more so he can get even deeper. “fuck!” You cry out.

As he pumps faster into you, he holds you tighter against him as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear. “please cum baby” he chokes out pleadingly, his resolve slipping away. “oh fuck- please cum for daddy- wanna feel ya squeeze my cock so good- i know it’ll feel so so good, please” he rambles breathlessly as your cunt clenches tightly around him.

Whining at his words you reach down to grab his hand and press his fingers against your clit a little harder, making you gasp out loudly. He feels a flush of slick rush around his cock, your walls tightening around him so hard it almost hurts. “ah! Fuck- fuck, lovie- yer so fucking tight, gonna pull my cock off” he grunts against your ear as he tries to buck against you more, whimpering slightly when he feels the resistance. Before he can move again he moans against your ear, his thick seed streaming into your cunt.

With a weak sob of pleasure you collapse onto the mattress completely, Simon pulling you as close as he can while still on top of you. His hips buck up slightly as he cums, gasping every time he feels your walls flutter around him. “ohhh fuck yeah, take it” he grunts. “taking it so well” he murmurs against your skin as he empties himself inside of you.

After a few long moments he opens his eyes to look down at you, seeing the tear soaked pillow under your face. “You okay sweetheart?” He says softly, his voice hoarse. When you nod weakly he sighs, pulling you close as he moves to lay on his side. “Can’t believe no one fucked ya before that” he murmurs against your ear. “Fucking incredible you are.. honored you let me break ya in.” He chuckles faintly.

When you didn’t respond, he looked down at you and that’s when he saw you with your eyes closed, breathing softly. You were snuggled up against his chest.. and you’d already fallen asleep. He sighed, grabbing the blankets and pulling them over the both of you, still staying inside of you. “I’ll clean ya up after a nap” he whispers against your hair, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Perfect boy.” He whispered before he fell asleep with his body holding yours tightly.

[umaia3aurart]

Red Temptation🥀

I enjoy thinking about how they met in Wreckers: Tread and Circuits.

If you have read the comic, you know Breakdown is the commander of Security Operations in Velocitron, right? I wonder if he was chosen for the position for the Decepticon conquest of Velocitron? Or what if he was already a police officer before they met, and Knock Out corrupted him…?

I’m imagining such a story of these two. Once there was a good cop in Velocitron. His name is Breakdown. He is a somewhat slow Velocitronian, but his steady and solid working attitude gained the trust of Sec-Ops. One day, he met a stunning racer, Knock Out, and was detailed to guard him in a race. They fell in love with each other soon. Breakdown was totally addicted to him, and he thought he would give him all he wanted. One night, his ravishing red partner murmured sweet words into his ear. ‘Hey, darling, I need your help. Have you ever thought about making Velocitron belong to us? Wanna create an ideal world together…?”

And then, they executed the plan during the Speedia 500…

Even if Knock Out initially approached Breakdown for his own gain, I believe he will soon discover true love in BD’s sincere character. And I want them to think about creating a new Velocitron for just both of them. Hnnnng such a villainous couple! 😩

The original before trimming and editing!

Edit:

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OMG THIS SCENARIO IS EXACTLY WHAT I WAS HOPING FOR!! I WANT TO SEE HIS SPARK SWAYING WITH UNEXPECTED LOVE! YUM YUM

Thank you for sharing your idea @thewiglesswonder !! <3

[the-gay-prometheus]

Thank you Dean and Cas, you can go back to superhell now or whatever.

OK. Now that I have your full and undivided attention.

What the &#!* is happening in Pennsylvania?!?

Hi. You can call me Jay or Victor (I go by both interchangeably). Who the heck am I? I'm just a guy who happens to be privy to a few of the finer details about some of the things going on regarding the election here in Pennsylvania due to my proximity to someone who is involved in the electoral process.

Skip to the "keep reading" if you don't care about the how or why I'm making this post and just want the details about what's going on.

You may have recently seen a post going around talking about how somebody has paid for many many many mail-in ballots in Pennsylvania to be challenged and therefore slowing the ability for those ballots to be counted or putting them at risk of being discarded entirely.

Note - the version of the post linked there is the EDITED version that includes my initial responses (thank you to OP @/feralcringeman for editing my addition onto the post!!!! and also a massive thank you for making the post in the first place!!!!! I'm glad more word is getting out about this situation!!!!)

I am not trying to undermine this individual's post by any means. However, thanks to the way Tumblr works, I am concerned about the fact that most people are only seeing the initial unedited version of the post and are not looking into the reblogs to see my responses.

THESE RESPONSES ARE IMPORTANT.

I'm not just saying that to be self-important or whatever - I'm saying that because it is extremely important that people understand exactly what is going on so that, if and when they take action, they take the correct action and don't start throwing accusations that will ultimately end with them not being taken seriously.

To make sure this updated information gets out to a broader audience, I am making my own post with everything you need to know included. Find out everything you need to know that I am able to tell you under the cut.

Here are the key things you need to know:

The emails in the original post are legitimate. Mail-in ballots are in fact being challenged in Pennsylvania, and there will be court hearings regarding the legitimacy of these ballots

These challenges are not being made by Donald Trump himself - they are being made by avid supporters of his.

These challenges ARE LEGAL by Pennsylvania law, and the law does require a payment to be made per ballot being challenged by the challenger

There was recent news about fraudulent voter registrations being received in Lancaster County. These have absolutely no connection to the individuals responsible for challenging the mail-in ballots

In Pennsylvania, there is a law stating that any Pennsylvania citizen may come to their county's director of elections and claim that certain mail-in ballot applications may be fraudulent. When they do so, they must pay cash out of pocket per ballot application challenged. This money will go toward whatever the county needs to put it toward (usually paying off debt). The amount required to be paid per challenge is $10.

A group of avid Trump supporters worked together to make use of this law in 14 counties:

In my county specifically, I am aware of an individual who paid over $7,000 in cash to challenge ballots - that is between 700-800 challenges in my county alone.

Across these 14 counties, the number of ballots being challenged is over 4,300. That is over $43,000 paid in cash out of pocket by Trump supporters in Pennsylvania specifically with the intent of attempting to, at worst, nullify perfectly valid mail-in ballot applications and void valid votes, or at best, slow down the vote counting process by forcing the counties to conduct court hearings regarding the legitimacy of these ballots.

The good news is, many of these counties are not taking these challenges seriously whatsoever. In some cases, the judges are literally just throwing out the challenges. In other cases, the ones who made the challenges are withdrawing their challenges because it's clear that their challenges won't be taken seriously. That said, some counties may take them more seriously and hold more intense trials. In some cases, the challengers may appeal the more swiftly made court decisions and force yet another court case, slowing things down even more.

What does this all mean?

Trump didn't cheat (at least not in this specific case). Technically his supporters that made these challenges didn't either. These challenges are 100% legal under Pennsylvania law. They're ridiculous, but they are legal.

So does this mean you shouldn't raise your voices about it? That you shouldn't contact the White House and include this situation in your note about how there was foul play in this election? Absolutely not. You should include this situation, but do not frame it as cheating, because it isn't. Frame it as just another way that this election has not been run entirely fairly, because while it is legal, it means that there are perfectly valid votes that are still waiting to be counted while extremely tight races are already being called.

~~~

With all that out of the way, what was that thing I said about fraudulent voter registrations in Lancaster?

This is a completely separate issue, as I've mentioned, and it's already been discovered that the vast majority of registrations flagged as potentially fraudulent have been verified as legitimate. What is important to note is that these were voter registrations, NOT ballots.

News of this situation has gone national, so of course Trump picked up on it (and visited Lancaster not once but twice after the entire issue came to a head). But Trump is Trump, so what did he say? He said that these were fraudulent ballots, fraudulent votes. That is not true.

The issue was voter registrations, potentially being conducted by paid political canvassers that were being given quotas on how many registrations they needed to get in order to be paid. Whether that bit is true or not is still being investigated - if it is true, it's very much illegal.

As I said, the good news is that the vast majority of the over 2000 flagged registrations have been verified as legitimate, and the number that actually does seem to be fraudulent so far is hovering below 20% of the number of registrations initially flagged.

Again, this issue is completely separate. You may see it being lumped together with the current issue of ballots being challenged, but these fraudulent registrations are linked to an entirely different situation and have nothing to do with Trump or his supporters.

~~~

So! That's the tea on what's happening here in PA. It's not as bad as it initially might sound - not to say it isn't bad, it's just not as bad. Feel free to ask questions, I'll do my best to answer with the information I have/the information I'm allowed to give.

And also, on a slightly lighter note, I think we should all collectively laugh at the idiots who paid a grand total of $43,000+ in cash for literally no good reason considering most of these challenges are just being or going to be thrown out. Lmao. I hope our counties' treasuries are enjoying those donations.

[space-station-nursery]

◜ ❗𓂃 Space Station Reports ‧ ❕ ◞

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DO NOT INTERACT WITH @KODASWRLD

now that that's out of the way, we will be discussing NSFW briefly in this post, please make sure you are reading when in a safe mindset. All moots will be tagged at the end for further reach, i apologize to anyone i ping who does not like to be pinged[/g] however this is a serious topic to me and i want this to reach as far as possible

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Beforehand:

Hello kiddos, this is a more in-depth report from the one we made [here] about the up and growing agere creator Kodaswrld. I found their[i cant remember their pronouns rn] blog a few months ago, and absolutely fell in love. I loved their dividers, their text posts, and all the freestyling on their blog!

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September:

On september 10th, 2024, we created a post called "Agere Backpack ideas"! The next day [Sep 11th, 24], while scrolling through a creator i also thoroughly enjoy, i saw a post they had reblogged.... It was our backpack ideas, but it wasnt written by me... in fact, it was re-uploaded by someone who i thought created interesting content. I commented under the original post to take it down as we did not consent to our work getting re-uploaded. They deleted our comment. A few days later after fd calmed me from my panic attack, we sent an ask to take down our post as we did not consent to our content being reposted. At the start of our blog, i did have "do not rewrite" on our blog, however because nothing ever happened, i took it away when we changed into the space station nursery. They deleted our ask. a week or more later [unfortunately i dont remember at this point anymore] They closed asks under the guise of "getting hate"

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Current:

After everything happened, fd scoured around to create a blacklist. At this time, i had finally calmed down, and was ready to blacklist. Before we got to it tho, i saw a post created by another agere creator in which Koda had stolen from. This creator asks that all followers or people interacting report if their content was being reposted, as koda had taken one of their posts, and it got SIGNIFICANTLY more notes, as well as Koda copying their DNI banner, just changing the font and small images on the side:

Original post that Koda stole, at the time, post had at max 200 notes, minimum 150. OP name and pfp covered for privacy

Copied post made by Koda. Notice the amount of notes it has [if you check] 740 notes

---

This is not the only instance of this happening with Koda, and no "but they add credits" is not a viable defense here. We did not tell them they could do this, and they did not ask, by the looks of all posts, they didnt ask ANYONE to use their posts. The little credits at the bottom is also hard to see, especially by those who are visually impaired. I had an almost blind friend check out their post, and that friend couldnt even see the credits without us zooming in and circling it for the friend to see. Thats a problem. And people who see it but dont think much of it [like me] will not click the credits. I didnt. and i apologize to those whom i contributed to as apart of the problem

⁺　　◍ 　 . 　 ⁺　　☆　　⁺ 　 . 　 ◍　　⁺

So what else needs to be discussed?

Well, before we get to the NSFW they interact with, lets go with the tracing and stealing. Thank you to the person that sent us this [will not name for the safey of the individual but they are free to comment and let you guys know! They sent a non anonymous ask but still, yknow?]

So-.... Proof?

This is a screenshot sent to us that shows a user by the name of @/b4bybear_ , crediting their BF and CG @/SEABUNE for creating an image we all know and love, and have MOST LIKELY SEEN amongst agere intros [all blue markings have been made by me]

As you can see in the second image, the user is written on the bottom, exactly how its written on the twitter post. This image is widely available, and many many individuals use it..... However, Koda didnt seem to care

As you can see, Koda NOT ONLY traced, changed a singular item, and erased the original creators credits, they then wrote their own name on the bottom and claimed this post as their own. And no, changing one thing on an art post while still tracing everything else is not "creating your own content" or "taking inspo" This is blatant copying. This is further than just stealing text posts, they are stealing

ART from other sources [nsfw below]

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And now, the NSFW....

Kodaswrld does have their following open, meaning that littles, middles, and anyone visiting their blog can see who they interact with. These are some of the blogs they currently follow, and content they post/reblog:

@/slvttyfied

@/firstladyofjuicycouture12

Whilst being 18+, there is nothing wrong with interacting and following NSFW content and blogs. However if you are running a blog with a minor following [not small amount of people, minors. people 17 and under] you should not have your follows seen if you are interacting with this kind of content. Minors are curious, and you are exposing them to things they do not yet need to see or know about. Especially when kinks/hard kinds are involved. I am 21 and fd is 22. We will NEVER, allow nsfw blogs or rebloggers to interact with our content

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Final thoughts:

Through our mini blacklist, we have found out that koda knows what they are doing, and are actively avoiding discussing it. We also learned that they ship real people [called rps or "real people shipping"], and for having almost 800 followers, do not deserve it. Please, spread this far and wide, show your friends, you moots, reblog it even if it doesnt fit your aesthetic. This person NEEDS to be stopped.

⁺　　◍ 　 . 　 ⁺　　☆��　⁺ 　 . 　 ◍　　⁺

Our moots: @oftlunarialmoon @nostalgic-woodwind , @zimswife , @deesblanketfort , @angel-bunnie @aprilsmabelmaple , @diaryofalittlestar , @h3ll0everybby1 , @xx-raines-space-kindergarten-xx [hi raaaaine]

[chaosandwolves]

This this this

Ppl in fandom please realize what you do to real ppl over fictional characters

This is my first and probably last post I will ever make. I’m here to consume the content, not necessarily create it.

I see all of you fighting the good fight for Billy and his story. And I wanted to add my thoughts into the ring.

As someone who works with children and adults from abusive backgrounds EVERY SINGLE DAY. I can tell you that Billy checks every single box for being in his survival state 24/7.

I have had extensive trainings about trauma, how to recognize it and the effects it can have on a person and how they act. Personally I have endured a lot of trauma myself and had to unlearn a lot of unhealthy behaviors and ways of thinking because of it.

With that being said: someone who is in a state of survival constantly is not capable of thinking rationally, the only goal is to…survive.

Billy Hargrove was an abused child. A CHILD. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. Does this forgive his actions? No. But it explains them. Gives us a deeper insight into the “why?”

Neil hit his son, he insulted him, called him a slur and then reminded him that Max, his younger stepsister’s well-being is in his hands. That’s a lot for a 17 year old to go through. Then he goes to the Byers residence where he’s insulted and lied to. His sister (who’s well-being is in his hands) is alone with 5 boys, one of them is his age? THEN to top it all off, Steve punches him? All that built up rage from what just happened with Neil comes spilling out. Oh and to make matters worse, he gets sedated and Max MIRRORS Neil’s abuse by making him repeat himself. Keep this in mind, while all this is going on Billy has absolutely no idea what is going on. He still doesn’t know what Max is doing with all of these boys in this house.

Moving forward- Billy gets possessed by the mind flayer, he still has no idea what is going on and loses control of his own body. He had to watch as his hands take the lives of many people to feed this creature from his worst nightmares. Then this group of children lock him in a sauna, he is FINALLY able to beg for help and sobs. Even then NOBODY tells him what’s going on, no one really makes an effort to help him. It’s only in the final episode of season 3 that El breaks through to him, she see’s his past, his mom leaving, the abuse. Even standing up to the mind flayer Billy has no idea what he’s up against, he’s still in the dark. All he knows is that it’s him or this child that showed him how to come back to himself. It’s him or Max, and as we already know Max’s well-being is in his hands. Nothing is more terrifying than Neil’s wrath. And in his dying breath he apologizes.

For my fellow Billy Stans- Please never let anyone bully you about what characters you can and can’t like. Your ability to see deeper into the characters and push past the hate is needed in this world. Not just in fiction, but in the real world. If you relate to Billy as I do, from past trauma, I am so sorry. I am so very sorry that you have to fight, explain and rationalize your love for him every time. For whatever reason you stand behind Billy Hargrove, it is valid. And unlike Billy’s story, I hope that yours doesn’t end in tragedy. My inbox is always open for those who need to talk.

Now, for the Antis- I want to say, good for you. You managed to take a broken and deeply complex character and reduce him to a heartless villain in your minds. Think what you want about him, it really doesn’t matter. What does matter is how you act to the people who do relate to Billy. The name calling, the hate, the wild assumptions about real people!! It’s so insane to me. I hope that turning into the bully to make a point was worth it. How other people relate to a character doesn’t affect you in any way at all. Somehow many of you have managed to put people down and make them afraid to express their love for a character. It’s not something to be proud of.

I am not willing to argue with anyone on this, this is just my views and my opinion. Dacre Montgomery stated that he worked hard to humanize Billy Hargrove. Seeing his character be dragged through the mud and continuously be turned into the irredeemable monster by the Duffer Brothers and the fans is just really sad.

Billy Hargrove means a lot to me. For a lot of different reasons. He deserved so much more than he was given. He deserved a chance to redeem himself and to tell his side of the story. He deserved a chance to apologize for everything he did in his survival state. He deserved the chance to finally be happy and be surrounded by people who actually cared for him, who wanted to help him.

Just keep going everyone. ❤️

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn't go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: get ready for the hate.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The tunnel lights up ahead of you, revealing the cubic rock walls as you plant torches in your stead. The eerie soundtrack of night time and the ominous groan of zombies looming somewhere in the cave have you uptight. Silently, you press on, digging and mining mindlessly, fingers mashing the buttons on your controller. 

“Hey, where are you?” Jacob’s voice startles you. 

You nearly forgot you’re playing co-op. You sniff and shake your head, cursing aloud as your shock has you succumbing to the arrow of a sneaky skeleton. You sigh as your possessions scatter and you spawn back in your bed. 

“Back home,” you say glumly, “just ate it.” 

“Ah, damn,” his deep voice rolls in your noise-cancelling headset, “sorry, hope that wasn’t me.” 

“No, I wasn’t paying attention,” you hum and sigh.  

“Ah,” he accepts and lets silence linger before he clicks his tongue, “what’s going on? Everything alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you put the controller down, your avatar sitting on the geometric bed, “I just...” you stretch your neck and massage your scalp around the thick band of the headset, “got a lot on my mind.” 

“Right. I thought you were all done exams,” he says. 

“I am, but... packing. Going home. I called my old boss and turns out I’m not gonna have a job this summer. Gotta start over,” you yawn and rub your eyes, “what about you? Final exam tomorrow?” 

“Uh... yeah,” he hesitates as if he forgot. You do wonder why he isn’t cramming right now. You could never play minecraft all night the day before a final. “Easy stuff. I’m not worried.” 

You scoff. You wish you could say the same. All you’ve done is worry those last two weeks. Exams, getting home, getting a job. Your grandmother won’t very happy to find out you’ll be slumming it for a while. At least you tucked away some money through the semester. 

“Hey, if you need a few bucks...” Jacob offers. 

“What? Are you crazy? No way,” you exclaim, “really, no, I couldn’t. I’ll be fine. I just... I hate looking for jobs. You know how it is. Friggin awkward.” 

“It’s not a big deal. My dad sent me my birthday money so...” 

“Uh uh,” you deny him again, “that’s way too much. I couldn’t-- we haven’t even met.” 

“Mm, yeah, about that,” he exhales into his microphone, “I, uh, got an extra ticket to this Con. I figured out that’s it like the midway point between us so...” 

“A con? Oh, wow--” 

“Yeah, but I get that it would be expensive so maybe I could pay for your trip?” 

“Jacob,” you wiggle the controller restlessly, “I can't accept that. It’s so nice but... it’s a lot.” 

“I wouldn’t offer it was too much,” his voice is soft, meek, and defeated. You feel bad but you would feel worse taking advantage of his kindness. “We’ve been talking all year. I just figured it would be a good chance to meet up. It would be in public and something we both like so...” 

You scratch your neck as it speckles with heat. You don’t know what’s more insulting; yes or no. 

“Can I think about it?” You ask thinly. 

The line is quiet. You look at the screen and it goes dim from your idling. You hit the analog stick and fix your headphones. 

“Jacob?” You murmur. 

“Sure, think about it,” he says, his voice raspy and rocky. It’s strange. You’ve seen him in pictures and his voice doesn’t really match his appearance. He sounds a lot older than he looks. “It’s next month so lots of time.” 

“I’m sorry,” you cringe. “I just wouldn’t want to waste your money.” 

“Trust me, it wouldn’t be a waste,” he insists, “this last year has sucked. So much. You got me through it all.” His microphone scuffs, “studying, exams, all that stuff. It’s tough making new friends. Seems like everyone here knows each other from high school.” 

“Yeah, totally,” you agree.  

You’re not exactly the most popular person. You have people you know in each class but not too many friends you hang out with outside the lecture hall or library. So far, not too many people want to spend hours mining digital gold or racing cartoon characters around a rainbow track. 

“Well, you should probably get some sleep,” you yawn, “you got your big exam and... I gotta keep packing. Gotta catch the greyhound tomorrow night.” 

“Sure, uh, yeah, right,” his disappointment is potent, “hey, will you text me when you get home? Just so I know you made it.” He snorts, “god, I sound like my dad right now.” 

“Oh, of course,” you chirp back, “I’ll try to remember. Might be late.” 

“That’s fine. Just as long as you let me know.” 

“Don’t worry about me,” you assure him, “not ‘til I have to face my grandma. Ha.” 

“Yeah, good luck with that,” he says, “well... er...” 

“Good night,” you finish for him, “let me know how the exam goes too.” 

“Will do,” his timbre gets even lower, “night.” 

You sign off and shut down the console. Another yawn flows through you and waters in your eyes. You should sleep, you got a long day waiting for you, but you know it won’t be easy. Not with so much on your mind, not least of all, Jacob’s invitation. 

🎮

You text Jacob as you get on the bus, to make sure he doesn’t worry. It’s so sweet that he does, even some of your girlfriends don’t bother that much. Not that you mind the ‘hey, bitch’ Janet sends you every now and again to make sure you’re still alive. 

You fall asleep on the bus. You’ve never been one to sleep while travelling but you’re exhausted from a night of anxious tossing and turning. After spending all day packing up the last of your things and scouring your dorm room, you’re beat to hell. 

It’s midnight as you get to your grandmother’s house. She’s up reading another Stephen King classic in her rocking chair. She’s always been a night owl and a voracious book hound. She grumbles at you but doesn’t bother to ask how your trip was. 

“Hey, grandma,” you hike up your bag and smile.  

She growls again, eyes not leaving the page. You should know better by now not to interrupt her. You shoulder on and head down to the spare room where you spent most of your high-school career. You shut the door gently as the old hardwood floors creak with your weight and you drop your bag on the squeaky bed. 

You fish out your phone and plug it in as the battery flashes red with only two percent left. You leave it on the night table and stretch out, not bothering to change out of your hoodie and jeans. It’s not long before you descend back into the same dreams that marked your journey home. 

You wake up to buzzing. Your phone shakes the nightstand, rattling it against the bed frame. You groan and roll onto your side, reaching blindly for offending object. You hit the side button to dismiss the call.  

You blink away the bleariness and focus on the screen. Along with the missed call are several text messages. You squint as you expand the notifications. Jacob! You forgot to message. 

‘Hey, you home?’ 

‘Checking in. Must be busy getting settled in. Just let me know when you’re safe.’ 

‘Not meaning to be weird but everything okay?’ 

‘Please answer me. I’m worried.’ 

You drag your thumb around the keyboard, letting it predict your words; ‘sorry! I was so tired. Home now and safe 😊' 

Three dots pop up then swoop away. You frown as the same thing happens several times before a response appears. 

‘Was really worried. Thanks for finally answering. Been up all night.’ 

You’re stunned by the terse response. Yeah, you forgot to answer but he doesn’t need to worry that much. You frown and shift onto your side. 

‘Srry again. Tired. Talk in morning. Night.’ 

You turn your phone on silent and plug it back into the cord. You do feel bad but you’re too exhausted to let it keep you up. Besides, you need your sleep. You have lots of job hunting to do in the morning. Not to mention, your grandmother to face. 

🎮

You let Jacob cool down after your return home. Rather, he doesn’t text and you’re too distracted to do the same. As much as you’d like to sit around and game, your grandmother was as disappointed as you expected with your employment status, even when you gave her the money you had left in your emergency fund. 

After a week, you finally get a bite. It’s nothing special. There’s a seasonal ice cream shop in a booth shaped like a vanilla cone that needs a cashier on weeknights. It’s less than full time hours but it’s better than nothing. It will be strange working with high school juniors but you can’t afford to be picky. 

‘Game tonight?’ The text interrupts your first shift. You don’t have a chance to answer as a family approaches the window to order. 

You get them the soft serve and take their payment, bidding them a good evening with their vanilla points already drooping in the summer heat. You glance around at the mostly empty picnic tables. Soccer practice will end soon and you’ll be overloaded with eight-year-olds. 

‘Srry. New job. 1st shift. Maybe tmrw.’ 

‘New job? Congrats. Why didn’t you tell me?’ 

You sigh.  

‘Time got ahead of me.’ 

‘Same. Catch up tomorrow then. Minecraft?’ 

‘Sure. Tmrw.’ 

You slip your phone away. A mother and daughter approach and ask for a sundae and a banana split. As much as you love ice cream, working with it hasn’t tested your cravings very much. In fact, you might be falling out of love with it. The smell of vanilla and overly sweetened strawberries is kind of gross when it’s all you breathe. 

As you watch the happy customers walk away, you smile. Maybe it will be good to get some mining done. It will take your mind off of everything else. Hell, it might even make you feel like you’re doing something useful. 

🎮

“Shit, oh, sorry,” Jacob corrects himself. You always think it's kind of funny how he doesn’t like to swear. “My diamond armor.” 

“Oh no,” you utter, “where are you? I’ll grab your stuff.” 

He gives his coordinates and you turn around, leaping over the green blocks to make your way there. Despite your reticence at the beginning, you’re feeling better about the session. He wasn’t as tense as he seemed in his texts. 

“So, uh, did you think about the con?” Jacob asks. 

“The con? I almost forgot. When is it?” 

He gives the dates and you hum. Your chest flutters at the thought still. You’re not stupid. Meeting people IRL is not like online, no matter how many hours you’ve mined together. As much as you enjoy chatting with Jacob, you don’t know about meeting up. 

“I get it if you can’t get the time off but my offer still stands to cover the trip. If you wanna stay the night, I’ll even get an airBnB.” 

“Oh, wow, that’s a lot. I’m working now. I could put in,” you offer.  

“Is that a yes?” He asks hopefully. 

“I don’t know... I mean, I’ll have to look into it,” you say evasively. “Talk to my boss and grandma and all that.” 

“Right, right,” he tries to sound unbothered, “makes sense. Of course, no pressure. How about I send you the ticket either way? Haven’t got anyone else to bite.” 

“Oh, well, hold off, I wouldn’t want to take it and not use it,” you collect his weapons and armor from the ground in the game. 

It’s silent as you focus on getting every little thing. 

“Sorry, did I freak you out?” He asks, “I’m really not trying to pressure you, just got excited thinking about it.” 

“I know, Jacob, it’s not that, it’s just... a lot.” 

“Totally get it,” he intones, “let me know whenever you got an answer. Uh, where are you? I’m tryna find you.” 

“Just stay there, I'll come back to the house,” you assure him, happy to focus on the game instead. 

Still, you can’t entirely lose yourself in it. You’re sure he’s a nice guy. From pictures, he’s less than scary, and he’s never been anything but friendly. It’s not like the other dudes you meet online who jump to asking about your bra size and all that. It just isn’t smart. 

Well, maybe if you don’t show up alone. You know what con he’s talking about and Kara lives near there. You could probably convince her to meet up. Hm, that might work. 

Just like you told him, you’ll have to think about it. 

[tenjikufag]

Silly ask but, is it alright to request to see a Laios x male Reader story, where the reader is a transman? Maybe to how Laios would react to that information or how the reader would go about/could bring that up to Laios, esp for how scary it is to bring it up to a loved one. …and possibly for it to be fluffy/smut (stupidly sweet kind…?), fluff (maybe angst if you wanna throw in some tussle XD) will do just as good :}

Thank you if you see this! I enjoy what you make!! :D

No Problem.

Laios Touden x Trans!Male Reader

-fluff, light angst, comfort, ftm!reader, afab anatomy mentions, coming out, pre-op reader (no top/bottom surgery), hrt characteristics (T-Dick), fluffy smut

-(please proceed with caution if you are uncomfortable with said topics x.)

-thank you for the request, sorry it took so long to get around to. This man would be the most supportive and loving partner.

Listen, in a world where there are a thousand or more different races, anthropomorphic beings, monsters, magic, cults and guilds- being trans really isn’t that big of a deal or even something to blink twice at.

That doesn’t make it any easier though, coming out, even with all the “diversity” an ever present looming prejudice and bigotry was held among the heads of said margins- the ones who have managed to fall through the cracks of what had been somehow deemed ‘normal’ in this world..

It’s scary.

Especially when it comes to your relationship with Laios.

No, you doubt he’d hold any form of hatred or even really.. care about someone coming out to him. But that was just the problem, it almost felt like an unpredictability in his ways of emoting or showing how he reacts.

What if he didn’t accept it? What if he really did care about you not having “the right parts”…

You weren’t sure, really.

And that’s why you’d put it off for so long.

You’d been with Laios for some time now, but most of it was spent in dungeon and when you’d resurface neither of you had any of the energy to actually get physical aside from hugs and brief cuddling before he overheated and moved away in his sleep.

He hadn’t felt the layers you wore to conceal what you deemed a “secret”, neither him or the party ever seeing you without a shirt or even naked despite all the shared baths and such. Never once had they’d managed to catch you in a “slip up” of revealing yourself.

Also, why the hell would you drop such a comment and come out in the middle of the dungeon?! Who does that? Definitely not you, if it were to go sideways who’s to say they wouldn’t tie you up in vines and leave you to the giant frogs to eat?

None of them would be that cruel, you knew that. It was still hard, though.

Everyone knew you as a guy, you are a guy, your secondary characteristics prominent from the lapsed time on testosterone. It was easy to “pass” and you were worried.. really. It ate at you, even if in reality you didn’t exactly owe non-intimate partners your bodies explanation, Laios was the outlier.

An intimate partner, a boyfriend.. you’d wanted more and you knew he did too.

It felt all too difficult to do, dozens upon dozens of scenarios playing out in your hypothetical coming out but you wouldn’t know the true outcome until you actually.. told him.

—

Picking at the hem of your shirt, Laios came into your bedroom changed into his freshly washed sleep wear. His eyes scanned you, a soft smile on his lips as he slid into the bed- laying himself beside you.

You knew his next move was to wrap his arms around your waist but you needed some space to tell him. It hurt your heart a fair bit when Laios looked up at you like a whining puppy when you moved away from him..

“Are you okay?”

He asked, eyebrows crossed in concern.

“Yeah.. I just.. there’s something I need to tell you.”

The blonde sat up, crossing his legs and leaning forward towards you intently.

God, he didn’t make this any easier. His dumb almost dog like demeanour with bright golden eyes boring into you.. it sent a jolt up your spine.

“What is it?”

After all this time, rehearsing it over and over again, memorizing how your body would move and react to emote yourself to him and when he’s sitting here waiting patiently for you to tell him-

The words failed to find themselves on your tongue. Instead your throat felt tight, almost hard to swallow the word vomit that itched instead.

Your fingers continued to play with your shirt hem, trying to distract from the obvious tension.. sighing, your body decided on its own and through an incredibly impulsive action

You now sat on the bed without a shirt, binder on display.

You’d shocked yourself with the move, face burning and tears pricking at the corner of your eyes and catching on your eyelashes. Only flinching when Laios thrummed his finger on the clothing.

“You got hurt? When? Are you alright?”

He got closer, trying to inspect further but eased up at your clear discomfort.

“No. I’m not hurt!”

Unable to control your tone or volume, Laios flinched himself and moved back just a bit.

“Oh. Then what is this?”

Biting your lip, you could’ve guessed Laios wouldn’t have been familiar with these types of undergarments. With a deep, heavy sigh, your hands pushed themselves pressed into your cheeks and your neck dragged your head down to stare straight at the bed.

“I’m trans. That’s it. It’s a binder.”

It was quiet, just barely audible to him. The churning in your stomach twisted and ached, feeling like it was taking him a hundred years to respond..

Having enough with the silence, your head slowly tore itself away from your hands- Laios was still staring at you with the same care and concern he held before you came out with it.

“So? What.. what do you think?”

He blinked, tilting his head quizzically

“That was it? I thought it was something.. more? Not to uh, be mean or dismissive but-“

An amused laugh left your lips, startling your more conscious side of mind- what did he mean expected more? You didn’t want to guess, but the look of relief that washed over him told you all you needed to know.

“Are you okay with it? Okay with.. me?”

His bright eyes widened, realizing what you had actually wanted as a response

“Yeah! Of course, I love you.”

He loved you? You covered your blushing face with your hands, Laios was far too nonchalant with his words but they were sincere.

You hadn’t known why, well you did, but you had for some reason expected an explosive or more emotional response? But again.. it’s Laios. He’s not that kind of person.

“Is that why you never let me hug you for more than a few seconds?”

Pulling away from your hands, Laios sat there pouting. It was a fair question and he was right..

“I thought you didn’t like my hugs..”

The poor man seemed so upset! Sighing out a laugh, your body moved to hug his large frame.

“I love your hugs, it’s just scary.. I wasn’t sure what you’d think.”

His large arms wrapped around your body tightly, a satisfied hum escaping his chest. All this worrying, all this pent up stress.. all for nothing basically. Still, this was a big moment.. Laios knew what he would see when the time came.

You felt fingers inspect your binder, one slipping under and pulling it back- losing grip on it and accidentally letting it snap back onto your skin.

“Hey! That hurt!”

Shoving him away, you rubbed the spot where it snapped back.

“Wow, it’s really tight..”

“That’s the whole point Laios.”

He pursed his lips, hand scratching his chin as he thought for a moment. Eyes glowing at whatever epiphany he had

“Why don’t you take it off? I read somewhere you shouldn’t wear it for too long and I’ve been here all day! Take it off!”

Panicked, he moved and grabbed one of his shirts from your drawer and tossed it to you.

“Someone also said you could asphyxiate yourself! Were you wearing that the whole time in the dungeon?!”

Genuine concern oozed from him, stress in his knitted brows. You motioned for him to calm down, reassuring him you were fine and that you would not get asphyxiated from wearing it- giving him a brief lesson on binders and that you made sure you were absolutely safe the whole time.

It did calm him down, but he still told you to take it off. You agreed, the tightness a tad more noticeable since Laios so rudely pulled it back..

He offered to turn around or leave, but you let him watch. Even if he was turning red the whole time, shifting awkwardly while you changed.. he’d never seen your bare skin before now and it had him feeling hot and bothered.. your skin was smooth, aside from the faint pink outlines of where the seams laid on your skin.

Smiling up at him, you changed into his oversized sleep shirt and took a deep breathe of relief.

Laying back down on the bed, arms stretched out to let the large man cuddle into you. You could feel his attentive gaze on you, and you knew that meant he had a couple questioned festering in that ever-learning mind of his.

“What’s on your mind?”

He flushed, shoving himself further into you before he brought up his courage.

“Can.. can I see? I know you get facial hair and I am curious to see how it effects the rest of your body..”

Ah. Of course. Whispering a small sound of approval, you let him lift the shirt.. feeling yourself heat up again when he started fondling your chest.

“They’re not big, I think you can do without your binder in colder months.”

“Uh.. yeah. Thanks?”

He hummed, large hands exploring your torso and tickling along your skin. The motions he made, how his hands managed to squeeze just right in the more sensitive places had the space between your legs warming up and getting wetter by the second..

Laios was getting excited too, with the way he was cuddled up his hard on brushed against your leg. He shifted upwards, kissing your cheek and then the corner of your mouth. You were quick to grab his face and kiss him fully, slipping your tongue into his mouth- his hands now tightly holding onto the plush flesh of your chest.

Moaning out, you pulled away breathlessly. Laios’ eyes already hazed over, a hungry look you’d only ever seen in dungeon trickled over his features. He moved to cage you between his arms, hovering over you as he caught your lips with his again before leaving wet kisses along the side of your neck.

“Can I go further?”

His words laced with lust reached themselves between your legs, for sure leaving a wet spot in your underwear. An excited arousal festered in your abdomen, nodding at his question of consent.

With a smile, he pecked your lips before throwing off his own shirt and shimmying down to where your boxers peaked out from your pyjama bottoms. Golden eyes looked up to your own, checking to see if you were still okay with what he wanted to do.

You wanted it bad, he knew that. He felt it. Pulling down your bottoms, his eyes widened in delight. Admittedly you felt shy and kind of insecure, never being this exposed to him before but before any of your worries could settle into the pool of your arousal-

He took a long, striped lick between your folds, flicking his tongue when it met your clitoris.

Shuddering at the sensation, your legs instinctively tried to close but he remained steadfast inbetween your legs. Taking experimental licks around your folds, suckling on your tiny dick. It sent electric shocks of pleasure up your body, making the heat in your abdomen burn even more.

The man smiled at the reactions, licking and kissing your inner thighs, up your stomach, lips tracing their own path on your happy trail. He pushed your thighs back, exposing more of you and really dove in.

It was wet, the sound of slick between each lap and suckle from his mouth made blood pool in your cheeks. He had you gasping, stomach rising and falling with each groan and grunt from you.

When he pulled away, a faint sheen on his lips and chin remained. He was happy, satisfied with his warm up on you.

“Can I-“

“Yes. Please.”

You needed him, it was your first time with him and you wanted it all. He could play with you all he wanted after but for now the two of you ached and craved to feel each other whole.

While he slipped off his bottoms, you caught your breathe and ran your fingers through your hair to ease yourself into it.

You knew he was big, above average, and even with how wet you were it was going to be a stretch.

Sighing in content, you hadn’t realized he already had a condom on and was aligned with your heat until it poked just at the entrance.

Startled, you looked down between where your pelvises met.. he looked up at you with a soft smile. With a hitched breathe, he positioned the head of his dick to lay just inside the entrance. His eyes focused on yours, leaning down to kiss you.

Slowly, as he deepened the kiss he slid in. The stretch was tight, making your nose scrunch with the building pressure.

Until you felt yourself finally accommodate for his size, a wave of pleasured relief heating your whole body.

“Fuck..”

Groaning into the kiss, he rocked his hips slowly. You could feel his own muscles tense under your grip and he shared his own grunts of pleasure, letting them pool into your mouth.

The two of you weren’t going to last long, no matter how much control and how slow the pace was.

It was all overwhelming, emotions at a peaked high from what happened before and it being the first shared time.

The coil that sweltered in your pelvis was quickly coming to its end, feeling yourself clench around him and making more slick sounds with every thrust he made.

“Laios, I’m close.”

“Me too..”

It was almost a whimper, his mouth near your ear as he shyly buried his face into your neck, pleading with himself with every rut he made inside.

Your orgasm washed over you without warning, moaning out and gripping the blondes shoulders tightly- with your high almost ending, he came quickly after from every tight pulse you made on him.

Laying there breathlessly, he slumped onto your body. The two of you both smiling like idiots.

“You’re.. so.. handsome..”

His soft dick now pulled out, he caressed your ribs and kissed your cheek.

“I love you no matter what.. thank you.. for telling me..”

His post orgasm clarity made him say what he hesitated or couldn’t find the words for earlier, though it was through soft yawns and slurred sleepy words- it was what you needed to hear.

All your hypotheticals and nightmares fluttered from your mind, you almost had to pinch yourself for ever thinking the man would be anything but loving and accepting. He loved you for you, and you loved him for him. Quirks and all.

[winchesterwild78]

Unspoken Words pt 1

Master List

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Reader’s daughter, other characters

Warnings: Nothing too bad, mention of single parent struggles, child with special needs. 

A/N: Another collab story with @cheekygirl2309. This one is about a single mother with a nonverbal autistic daughter who loves Supernatural. The reader is going to a Supernatural Convention with her daughter and things unfold from there. The daughter character is near and dear to my heart. I have someone very close to me who is nonverbal, but he’s such an amazing kid. 

*I know how convention photo ops work, again this is a work of fiction. I have however been in the photo op room where they accommodate a child and turn the music off and ask everyone to be as quiet as possible. 

This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life. Jensen is single in this story. 

All work is my own and @cheekygirl2309, don’t take it or use it as your own. Reblogs and likes are appreciated. 

Minors DNI 18+

My daughter Lily is such a beautiful soul. At 7 years old she’s smart, artistic, and is obsessed with the show Supernatural. I had watched the show long before she was born, and now we watch it together as a way to bond. 

Lily’s father left me when I found out I was pregnant, so it had just been Lily and I since she was born. My best friend Sarah was like an Aunt to her, and was always there to help me. 

Especially after Lily was diagnosed with autism at the age of 2. She is nonverbal, and at times it can be very hard and frustrating. Navigating being a single parent is hard enough, but being a single parent to a nonverbal autistic child is really hard. Sarah is my constant support. 

I have an amazing job working at a local attorney’s office in downtown Austin. Everyone there loves Lily and the attorney’s are incredibly kind when it comes to me needing time off to take her to therapy or other appointments. 

“Hey, Y/N, did you hear there’s a Supernatural convention in town next month, and Radio Company is playing 2 concerts the Monday and Tuesday after.” Sarah was always trying to get me to a convention or a Radio Company concert, especially in Austin. 

“I know. I saw. I wish I could take Lily to the convention. I think she’d love it. She might be able to handle the convention, but I’m definitely not taking her to the concert. She would be overstimulated.” 

“What if I buy tickets to the concert and you and I go out?” I smiled, “I wish I could, but who would watch Lily?” Sarah nodded. 

Later that afternoon I sat at my desk thinking about the possibilities, but quickly dismissed them. I knew what Lily could handle, and I knew it wasn’t a concert. 

The rest of the week was a blur. I reached out to my parents to see if it was even a possibility for them to watch Lily so I could go to the concert, but they were headed on a trip to see my Aunt Mary that week. Apparently it was a big birthday for her, so they wanted to go visit. 

I pushed the concert and convention out of my mind. No sense in keeping my hopes up. 

Two weeks before the convention my boss, Mr. Jones called me in his office. I noticed his brother, the other attorney was in there too. I was nervous. “Y/N, take a seat, please. How have you been, how’s Lily?” 

“We’re good. She is doing well in her therapy. We are going to try an adaptive device to help her communicate. Her therapist is filling out the paperwork so insurance will cover it and the program. She uses one at speech, and does well with it.” 

“Wow, that’s awesome. I really hope it helps her communicate easier.” I nodded.

“So Y/N, the reason I called you in here today is we wanted to thank you for being such an amazing employee. You are selfless and give so much of yourself to the company, to your co-workers and of course Lily. When do you do anything for yourself?” 

I looked down at my hands and fidgeted, “I don’t. Not really.” “That’s exactly what we thought, so we got together and wanted to give you this.” 

He handed me an envelope. “Can I open it now?” He nodded and smiled. 

I took a deep breath and opened the envelope and unfolded the papers inside. I softly gasped as I read them. Tears filled my eyes and spilled out, “Are you serious?” “Yes, and don’t worry about Lily the night of the concert, Annie is going to keep her at our house.” 

“Oh my god, this is a dream come true. Lily is going to be so excited to go to the convention. Thank you both so much! Can I hug you?” They laughed and nodded. I wrapped my arms around them both. I couldn’t believe this. 

I went back to my desk to call Sarah. “Girl, guess what?! My bosses just gifted me tickets to the convention, complete with photo ops, and tickets to both nights of the concert. Please tell me you’re going to go with me to both. I have three tickets to the convention and two to the concerts. Annie, Mr. Jones’ wife is going to keep Lily. Lily loves her and Annie is so good with her. She’s a special education teacher and is amazing at her job.” 

“Of course I’ll go with you. That’s awesome, you totally deserve it. I can’t wait for you to tell Lily.” “Me either.” 

Later that night after Lily and I got home from speech therapy I showed her the tickets, “Look Lily, we’re going to meet Dean.” She smiled and clapped. Anytime she got excited she would clap or flap her hands. Even though she couldn’t speak, she communicated in other ways. 

Later that night Lily walked over to me with the TV remote in hand. I knew she wanted to watch Supernatural, but it was late and I was tired. “No, Lily. It’s bedtime. No Dean right now.” 

She pushed the remote at me again and huffed. “Lily, no. Now go brush your teeth, it’s time for bed.” Again, she pushed the remote at me and huffed louder. “Lily Ann, I said no!” She threw herself on the floor and wailed and screamed. 

I just walked into the kitchen. I knew she was doing it to get her way. She wasn’t hurt or being hurt, she was mad. So I let her feel her feelings by herself. 

I grabbed a glass of water and drank it. Then I heard her walk into the kitchen. “Are you okay, now? I promise we will watch tomorrow.” She took my hand in hers. I hugged her and she went to bed. 

The day of the convention finally arrived. Lily was a little overstimulated when we arrived, so I ran in to get our badges while her and Sarah waited in the car. The atmosphere was electric and I began to get very excited. 

I went back out to the car to see if Lily was ready. “You ready baby girl? I’ve got our tickets.” She wiggled in her seatbelt, so I let her out. 

I grabbed her bag and headphones just in case. We walked in and her eyes went wide. I saw something in her shift. 

Lily seemed more present, more aware of the surroundings. I was in awe. 

I grabbed a schedule and saw Jensen’s photo ops were later. So I figured I’d take Lily to the merchandise room and buy her a few things. 

We were walking around looking at everything they had. Lily saw shirts and other items with Jensen on them and immediately wanted them. 

Then I heard a laugh that instantly pulled my head in the other direction. Standing at the Radio Company table was Jensen. 

My heart beat wildly. Lily didn’t hear or see him at first, but then he started talking and she saw him. 

Her eyes went wide and before I could stop her she ran towards him, arms wide and hugged his leg. 

“ Oh, who’s this?” He said as I walked up. Clif was instantly by his side. I was so scared we were about to be kicked out. 

“I am so sorry. She saw you and got away before I could grab her. Lily, let go. Come on baby.” She held tighter. Jensen smiled at me and bent down, “Hello Lily. It’s nice to meet you.” She held tighter. 

“I’m so sorry. She doesn’t speak. She’s nonverbal but loves Dean. We watch the show together as a way to bond. Lily, please let go. He has to leave. We have to leave.” 

She shook her head no. I took a deep breath trying to hold myself together. Jensen placed a hand on my shoulder, “Hey, breathe. It’s okay. She’s okay.” 

“Dean!” Sarah and I stood shocked. Lily hadn’t spoken in years, and even then was a babble. 

Jensen looked at me and I at him. Tears pricked my eyes. “Dean, no go.” 

The tears fell fast and heavy as I hit the floor. 

Sarah gasped and looked at Jensen, “She hasn’t spoken in years.” Jensen’s eyes filled with tears and he got down beside her “Hey sweetheart.” She looked up at him and smiled. 

I was in awe of him and her. She hardly looked at anyone, let alone a stranger. 

He reached his hand out to me and grabbed mine, “She’s okay. Are you okay?” I nodded, “I just can’t believe she talked. I’ve been alone in this, except for Sarah. Her father left and I fight everyday to make sure she’s happy and has the things she needs in life. Her not talking scares me, so this is huge.” 

He leaned over and wiped the tears away. His handlers told him he had to go to photo ops. Jensen raised a finger and told them one minute. 

I looked at Lily who was still clinging to him, “Lily, it’s time for pictures. Jensen has to go. We will see him in a minute. Come on baby girl. He has to get ready for the pictures.” She looked at Jensen and then back at me, “go?” Jensen nodded, “Yes, but I’ll see you in a few minutes, okay?” 

Lily nodded enthusiastically. Jensen stood and helped Lily and then myself up. 

When his hand touched mine I felt electricity through my body. I gasped softly. He smirked and winked. 

He walked away with his handlers and Clif, before they disappeared behind the curtains Jensen turned and looked at us again. My heart was in my throat. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” I heard Sarah ask. “Um, yeah. What was that? She talked, Sarah. She talked to Jensen.” She touched my shoulder, “Yeah. That was amazing. Come on, let’s get in line for the photo ops, they’ve called for gold tickets to line up.” 

I nodded and told Lily we were going to get our pictures taken with Jensen. 

We stood in line and as we got closer to the door I could hear the music playing and excitement in the room. I worried about Lily so I handed her the headphones. 

She put them on and I could tell she was getting nervous. I handed the lady our ticket to scan and then we saw Jensen. Lily tried to bolt to him again, but I held her. She started to get upset and my heart sank. 

“Want me to take her out of here?” Sarah asked. “No, I don’t want her to miss this. She should be okay.” 

“Lily, honey, take a breath. See, Jensen is right there. We’re going to get a picture.” 

It was almost our turn and we were at the front of the line. Jensen saw us standing in line and smiled, but then turned his focus to the people getting their picture taken. They wanted an elaborate pose, props and all, which meant a bit more time. Lily was at her limit. 

Before they could usher us up she melted down. When it was our turn Jensen looked at me and smiled, “I’m sorry, we can’t do this right now. She needs a minute. Is there any way we can come back?” I asked the woman scanning the tickets.

“Let me see what we can do.” She said and I smiled. She walked over to Jensen and the photographer. The decision was to clear the room and turn off the music. 

There were some grumbles from other fans, I understood completely, but I was amazed by their generosity. 

Jensen walked over to me and then bent down to Lily. “Hey, Lily. Want to get a picture taken with me?” She looked up and nodded.

He scooped her up, wiped her tears and grabbed my hand. Chris the photographer was so sweet. He offered a photo of just Lily and Jensen, and then all of us. “But I only have a ticket for one.” He touched my arm, “Let me worry about that.” He smiled and I nodded. 

Lily had her arms around Jensen’s neck and smiled bigger than I’d ever seen her smile. My heart was so full. 

She giggled, and kept saying “Dean” over and over again. 

“Sweetie, his name is Jensen. Remember?” I said looking at her.

I walked over to get in the picture and Jensen put his arm around me. I looked up at him and looked in his eyes, oh how beautiful his eyes were. I lost time for a bit. Everything around me melted away. 

“Mama.” I broke eye contact and gasped. “She’s never called me mama before.” Jensen smiled, “That’s amazing, sweetheart.” 

“Mama, Jensen.” Sarah was just as shocked. “My baby is talking.” I stood and cried. Jensen held me tight. 

“Mama, Jensen go home.” I looked at her and then him. He chuckled. “No baby, Jensen can’t come home with us. He has to go to his house.” 

It was like a switch flipped in her. She was talking. I couldn’t believe she was talking. 

“Baby, we have to go. Jensen has other pictures to take. Come on sweetie.” She refused to let go of his neck and I was starting to panic. “Jensen, I’m so sorry. She’s never acted like this before. I know you have all those other people waiting.” 

He took my hand, “Hey, it’s okay. I want her to be comfortable. Do you think she’d be okay sitting over there until I’m done?” He pointed to a table to the side, but in line with him. “We could try, but you really don’t have to. You don’t know her or me, and don’t owe us anything.” 

That’s when he cupped my face and my breath hitched, “I don’t know you two, but I’d like to. Besides, my nephew means the world to me, and I know how hard it is for my brother and sister-in-law. It definitely takes a village.” 

I nodded, swallowed hard, “Lily, come on. We’re going to sit right over there and wait for Jensen, okay?” 

She turned and looked then climbed down and sat in the chair closest to Jensen. I chuckled, “I guess it’s okay. Thank you, Jensen.” Clif stood near us and they resumed pictures. 

In between photos Jensen glanced our way and when he looked at me he smiled. I couldn’t believe everything that had happened. Lily had spoken, Jensen Ackles was being so sweet, and I was sure I was having a fever dream. 

After photo ops Jensen was escorted out of the room, before leaving he took my hand and grabbed Lily, “Come on. Let’s go backstage.” I nodded and Sarah followed with our stuff in tow. 

Once in the quiet solitude of backstage Jensen and I started talking. Lily curled up between us and fell asleep. I explained that when she got overstimulated for long periods of time it would drain her to the point where she needed sleep. 

He looked down at her and smiled, “She’s an amazing kid, Y/N. You’re doing great.” “Thank you. That means so much to me.” 

“So if you don’t mind me asking, tell me a little about yourself. I know you have an incredible kid, and you’re an amazing mother, but I’d like to know more.” 

I bit my lip and talked. Told him about work, Lily, our lives, everything. He was completely focused on the conversation. He told me about his life, spent between here in Austin and Vancouver. He said he’d been busy with shooting schedules, but loved doing the conventions. 

We talked about the upcoming concert, and he was excited I was going. “I’m not bringing Lily. She wouldn’t be able to handle it, but I’ll be there both nights with Sarah.” He looked over at her and smiled. “I’m glad you’re coming, sweetheart.” 

There it was again, “sweetheart”. It made my heart flutter and my face flush red. “Well darlin’ I have to get to a meet and greet, y’all are welcome to stay back here as long as you need. I hope to see you later.” 

I nodded, “Thank you, Jensen. You’ve been incredible with her. I really appreciate it.” He nodded and turned to leave, stopping as he got to the door, “Here’s my number, text me so I have your number. I’d like to make sure Lily is okay for the rest of the convention.” 

I took the paper, sent him a text and he smiled, “Got it. Thank you.” He winked and went out the door, leaving me and Sarah in silence. “Girl, he’s got it bad for you.” I chuckled, “Yeah right, he’s just being sweet because of Lily.” 

“He’s definitely being sweet to Lily, but he’s enamored with her mom too.” I rolled my eyes and laughed, but deep down I was feeling something.

My phone went off with a notification, I looked down and smiled. It was from Jensen. 

Jensen: Hey sweetheart, I have the pictures we took. They are amazing. I’ll bring them to you soon. 

Me: That’s great. I can’t wait, and Jensen, thank you again for being so sweet to my Lily girl. 

Jensen: She’s a great kid, I’d like to get to know her and her mom better. That is if you’re open to that. 

I looked at my phone and looked up at Sarah. I showed her the message, “What do I say?” “Maybe you want to get to know him better too.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me. “Shut up you perv.” We both laughed. 

Me: She’d like that, and so would I. 

Jensen: Good. Talk to you soon sweetheart. 

Me: I can’t wait. 

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[azaharinflames]

Will you share your theory on what you think is happening behind the scenes of 911?

Hi, Nonnie!

Sure! As long as everyone is aware this is purely speculation, and nothing I say should be taken as proof of anything, I have no problem.

I've gone over a few things in my head, to be honest. I thought that JLH having filming conflicts could've been a major factor, and I still don't exactly disagree with that initial idea, but overall I think it was one of the things that threw TM for a loop.

Now, I've seen a lot of people theorize that perhaps Angela is leaving and that is what is causing so much chaos in BTS, but I am on the fence about this. I do think she might've asked to not have such a big role moving forward, especially if they get a season 9 (which I am also on the fence about ngl), like perhaps retiring, or just having a more laidback position training new recruits. The seeds are planted for that, not so much for her fully leaving. And it would give Angela more free time to dedicate to other projects (which, yes please. I need her in new projects ASAP).

So... (and please don't kill me for this, it's just a theory).

I think it all comes back to Ryan. And that he perhaps is leaving, or actively wants to leave. I will try to explain myself as concise as possible:

A couple of months ago there was already speculation about this. In all of his individual interviews (which were a lot, to be honest), Ryan made a point of talking about his work beyond 911 and talking about what he would like to do after 911.

On top of the individual promo, there was an uncharacteristically high amount of BTS dedicated to him and the godforsaken mustache. To the point where they threw a mustache party. And in the pics of that party, the vibes were that it was a party for Ryan, not in general.

Small thing, but Josh randomly dressing up as Eddie for Halloween. Perhaps unrelated, but I wanted to add it.

The 911 account reposting and celebrating Ryan's 100th ep, when 1. it wasn't his 100th (if we count the eps he was actually in) and 2. it was also JLH's, and yet they didn't say a thing about it. Ryan reposted that as well and the message he reposted it with was more nostalgic than anything else. Very much giving 'it was an honor to work with you, what a journey'.

I could be wrong, but I do think his contract ends this season. So, that just adds to it.

The timeline of the move to Texas. By the reactions alone I was fully expecting Eddie to leave for Texas at the end of 808, and then to be back with Chris (in a lazy way of solving their conflict off-screen) by 809-810. But the way he's currently thinking about it makes it very sus for me. As in, it can be a thing for the end of the season, and an actual goodbye for Eddie.

Of course, nothing of this has to actually happen, and it's quite possible it just exists in my brain. But this makes sense in my funny brain because then it explains why BT had to break up so soon... because they wanted Buck to feel completely isolated.

We know 809-10 will deal with Maddie being kidnapped. That alone will make Buck spiral. But if on top of that his best friend is also leaving... well, being alone just adds to the isolation and the angst. Because if Tommy was still around he'd be able to lean on him, and have him help him through this. But it seems like the writers wanted Buck fully alone for this, because sure, seeing a character never learning and being completely isolated is so much fun.

If this ends with BT getting back together, I honestly don't know. It wouldn't surprise me if Tim doesn't know. But, all in all, I wouldn't be surprised if RG deciding he's done is the thing that kinda created the domino effect.

(Also: I do not believe Oliver was telling Tim to fire Lou and end BT. Sorry. I just don't really see it. Nor do I think there were actual conflicts between actors BTS, as much as everything they're doing right now does feel a bit weird)

Anyway, thanks for letting me rant, Nonnie! My inbox is always open for ranting, venting, or discussing

Take care <3