#this is just an excuse for me to make bolded text

[chock-and-bates]

I genuinely feel like it’s a hate crime that when I’m trying to stop myself from crashing out over US politics the AO3 site crashes for hours so I have NOTHING to distract myself from doomscrolling. Now I have returned to your page just to find feral, spicy snippets - SOS. Bless u for any distraction

awww, hon ☹️ as a fellow american, i totally get it. i've been raging about this for hours.

i can only offer you this spicy, rough draft snippet to distract you from the atrocity of this country-

it's from a fic i've been working on- i've been inspired by the amazing secret kid fics (one of my favorite tropes) and decided to take a stab at it. also my return to omegaverse.

a getaway car: Max hasn't seen Charles Leclerc in a decade, not since the omega disappeared from the public eye at the start of his F3 career... back when it seemed like something more might be blooming between the two of them, as crazy as it seemed. Max never really got over it, if he's honest. But now Charles is here, a guest at the Monaco GP, and Max finds his alpha instincts going haywire at being close to the omega once more, no matter how much Charles tries to avoid him. Things get even more complicated when a distraction appears... a ten-year-old distraction... a distraction that looks startlingly similar to Max himself... a distraction that calls Charles maman.

spicy, baby-making snippet under the cut: 🌶️ 🌶️

Max looks out over Monaco as they speed away, and feels his breath catch in his throat, the magic of the moment stunning him.

He’s blazing with the thrill of being young- in a few weeks he’ll be in F1, it’s a gorgeous evening in a beautiful city, he’s in a luxury car, and Charles Leclerc is laughing maniacally in the seat beside him. 

Roaring up the road in their getaway car, with the most infuriating and amazing omega Max has ever met next him, he has the thought that this is the happiest he’s ever been- that his life is truly beginning.

It makes his heart ache in a sweet sort of way.

They park somewhere secluded that Charles knows, where they can watch the sunset and laugh as Charles’ friend blows up his phone, demanding to know where they’ve taken the car. Perhaps it’s mean of them, but Max finds he doesn’t care much, not when it gives an excuse to lean closer to Charles as they read the texts, subtly inhaling to get to even more of his warm, sugary scent…

They’re giggling over the latest message when Charles glances up at him, and Max can hear the way the omega’s breath hitches when their eyes lock. Max’s pulse jumps at the look on his face.

“Thank you,” Charles suddenly says, voice soft, almost shy, “For coming with me. This- I- We have fun together, yes?”

“Yes, of course,” Max says, more breathless than he would like, but he can’t help it with Charles looking at him like that-

They fall quiet, the silence is heavy with the weight of teenage infatuation. This sweet tension that has steadily been growing between them no longer able to be ignored. Their scents thicken, giving them both away.

Max couldn’t tell you who leaned in first, but it doesn’t matter. Either way it ends the same- with the two of them frantically kissing over the console. The most amazing, delectable, thrilling kiss of Max’s young life- so rough, wet, and hot. 

They move fast, of course they move fast, they would never do anything else.

Before he knows it, he has a lapful of Charles Leclerc. 

They’re crammed together in the seat, but it does nothing to ruin the moment. Nothing could, not when their kisses move to throats, not when Charles lets Max lick at his scent gland, not when he’s making the most delicious little noises, not when their clothes are coming off, their hands bold and wandering, their hips grinding and rutting, desperate to be closer.

Not when Charles is sinking down on Max’s cock, his pretty little cunt taking him in so deep- 

They lean together as Charles adjusts, foreheads touching, looking between them where they’re connected. Their soft, shared breaths are almost as intimate as everything else.

It’s relentless and quick after that, true to their nature, but it’s good. Devastatingly so. Max doesn’t have much experience with sex, but as he watches Charles bounce on top of him, easily led by Max’s hands tight on his waist, the omega’s face flushed, overwhelmed and so fucking gorgeous, Max has a feeling he’ll never get over this. 

When Charles' hand slips between them, furiously rubbing at himself until he gives a sharp little cry, as his cunt milks at Max’s cock, he knows he’s never getting over this.

“Charles,” he gasps, so close to the edge, “I- I’m gonna cum. What- where should I-”

“You can- Inside,” Charles pants, still letting Max fuck up into him, “The pill- I am on the pill.”

Oh, fuck. It's reckless, stupid... Max wants it so bad.

“Yes, but… my knot-,” he chokes when Charles’ clenches around him again. Even with him on the pill, they really shouldn’t risk it-

“Want it,” Charles whines, his eyes still hazy with pleasure, “Knot me. Want your knot, Max. Please.”

He’s helpless to do anything else.

Minutes later he’s got Charles gathered close, the omega whimpering into his neck as he trembles against him, obviously a little overwhelmed with the knot tight up inside him as he’s pumped full of cum. Max presses kiss after kiss to his temple, murmuring soft, unpracticed words- how he did so well, so sweet for letting him do this, Max’s first time knotting anyone and it’s perfect-

“You have never knotted someone,” Charles asks, a soft whisper between them.

“Never,” Max whispers back, kissing him again, blushing at his own honesty.

“I- I have never let anyone knot me,” Charles nuzzles closer as he says it, hiding away from the confession, “But- you make it very nice, Max. Thank you.”

They sit there in their getaway car, the windows fogged up like a teenage cliche, cuddling much sweeter than they should-

Eventually Charles pulls back, raising his head to meet Max’s eyes. 

“When you move to Monaco,” Charles starts, biting his lip, “We should- I mean, we could- We could see each other more, yes? If you like.”

Max’s heart skips a beat, the vague implications loud and clear. “I would like that, of course.”

When Charles gives him a small smile and leans in for another kiss, Max thinks that he was wrong- this is the happiest he’s ever been.

***

Returning the car, they wince at the stains on the seat before sneaking away. They run off from their crime, hand in hand, still a little sex drunk and giggling.

They mean to part at a street corner- Max heading back to his hotel, Charles to his family’s home- but before leaving, they can’t help but hide in the shadows, leaning in for a heady kiss or several. 

Max promises to text next time he’s in Monaco and wishes Charles luck in Formula 3. Charles rolls his eyes as he returns the sentiment, wishing Max luck in F1, but the way he squeezes his arm as he says it gives him away.

“See you soon, I hope,” Max murmurs as they hesitantly hug goodbye, still a little shy with each other despite what they just did in the car.

“You will,” Charles promises, squeezing him again.

They share one last kiss, soft and slow, before finally going their separate ways. After a moment, for reasons he can’t explain, Max finds himself looking back to watch Charles as he walks away.

He watches until he rounds a corner, disappearing from his sight. 

He will not see him again, not until ten years have passed.

[talentforlying]

@whcwashe mentioned a couple days ago how overlooked john's artistic ability is, including the way he's able to paint sigils with such mathematical perfection (i.e. in the nbc pilot), and i just think with how bookish he is + how adept in mathematics they show him being as a kid in dead boy's heart, it would make perfect sense for him to have researched and borrowed a lot of geometric artistic techniques from leonardo da vinci to use in the more physical aspects of magic and ritual.

[kathaelipwse]

Their Reaction When You Whisper Something Not So Innocent | SKZ OT8

Synopsis:

You whisper something not-so-innocent in their ear, expecting them to get flustered—but some of them give it right back. From blushing messes to smug revenge, how does each of them react when you catch them off guard?

Warnings: Fluff | Teasing | Slightly Suggestive | Humor | GN.Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

- Requests are open

Bang Chan

Smirks when he feels you leaning in, expecting something sweet.

But then you whisper, "I can still feel you on me from last night."

His smirk falters immediately.

Clears his throat and shifts in his seat, suddenly very aware of his surroundings.

Tries to play it cool with a low chuckle, but his ears are already red.

"You're playing a dangerous game, baby."

Pulls you closer, making sure his lips graze your ear.

"Say that again. I dare you."

If you repeat it, he grabs your chin, tilting your face up to look at him.

"You're lucky we're in public right now." His voice is lower, rougher.

Looks you up and down, tongue flicking over his bottom lip, like he's processing his life choices.

Murmurs against your skin, "You really know how to distract me, huh?"

Doesn’t let you walk away without some kind of payback.

If you’re in public, he keeps a hand on your waist, gripping it just enough to tease you.

If you're alone, expect him to pin you against the nearest surface, his knee between your legs.

Later, he sends a text that just says, "You're in trouble."

Lee Know

Squints suspiciously when you lean in.

But when you whisper, "I still remember how your hands felt on me."

He blinks once. Then twice.

"Huh?" Like he didn’t hear you, but he definitely did.

Slowly turns his head to stare at you.

Smirk. That damn smirk.

"Say that again, but slower."

When you refuse, he just laughs under his breath.

Pulls you onto his lap out of nowhere.

Murmurs, "You really want to start something right now?"

Taps his fingers on your thigh while pretending to think.

Looks way too calm, but his ears? Red.

Whispering right back, "You're gonna regret that later."

Acts like he's letting it go, but he's not.

Later, when you're alone, he corners you against a wall.

"I hope you’re ready to deal with the consequences."

Changbin

Immediately suspicious when you get too close.

"What are you up to?" But lets you whisper anyway.

But when you whisper, "I can still feel your hands on me from last night."

Freezes. Like. Completely.

Ears turn pink in 0.2 seconds.

Clears his throat so aggressively it sounds painful.

Tries to act unbothered but fails miserably.

"I-I don’t know what you’re talking about." Avoids eye contact.

Suddenly decides the gym is the safest place to be.

"You—um—shouldn’t say things like that."

Secretly loves it but is too flustered to function.

Texts you later: "So… about what you said earlier…"

If you bring it up again, he just hides his face in your shoulder.

After he recovers, he plans his revenge.

Whispering something even worse in your ear next time.

Hyunjin

Gasp.

Literal gasp.

Pushes you away just to dramatically hold his chest.

"EXCUSE ME?"

Fake offended but lowkey obsessed.

Covers his face with his hands and groans.

When you whisper, "You left me aching for you last night."

Starts pacing the room like he's in a drama.

Suddenly super shy but also clinging to you.

Buries his face in your neck.

"You just ruined my whole day. I can’t focus anymore."

Later, gets bold. Whispers something even filthier in your ear.

"Now we’re even."

Smug, but avoids eye contact for the next hour.

Still thinking about it at 2AM.

Han

Chokes on air.

"Wait. Wait, what?"

Starts laughing nervously like a man who wasn’t prepared for this moment.

"You can’t just—out of nowhere—WHAT?"

Hides under a blanket.

Peeks out with wide eyes.

When you whisper, "I still remember the way you moaned my name."

Trying so hard not to combust.

Literally grabs his chest like he’s been shot.

"I need a moment. I need therapy."

Pretends to be mad but he’s just overheating.

Eventually whispers something back. But it’s probably dumb.

Texts you later: "Hey… so about earlier… wanna continue that convo?"

Can’t look at you normally for at least a week.

But brings it up randomly when you least expect it.

Seungmin

Seungmin doesn’t react at first. Just stares at you with his usual deadpan face.

"That’s the best you got?" Smug. Too smug.

When you whisper, "I still feel you all over me from last night," he blinks slowly, side-eyes you, and then smirks.

"Oh? That sensitive, are we?"

It backfires immediately.

He leans in closer—way too close.

Whispers right back, "If I left such an impression… maybe I should make it worse next time."

Now you’re the one overheating.

Smirk. Full menace mode activated.

You regret everything.

"What? No comeback? That’s what I thought."

He will not let you live it down. Ever.

Brings it up at the worst times.

Game over. You lost. He wins.

Felix

Blushes instantly.

"W-Wait, what did you just say?"

Ears and neck turn red.

Tries to giggle it off but is lowkey panicking.

When you whisper, "You ruined me last night," he freezes.

Buffering. System failure.

Covers his face with his hands.

"Why would you say that?!" His voice cracks.

Legit needs to sit down.

But then… oh no.

Deep voice Felix activates.

Gets bold out of nowhere.

Whispers right back, "You say that like you didn’t love every second of it."

Now you’re malfunctioning.

He grins like the devil because he knows he got you back.

Jeongin

Biggest fake gasp ever.

"Oh my god, you’re so bold." But he’s smirking.

Acts shocked but is secretly thriving.

When you whisper, "I couldn’t stop thinking about your hands all over me," he raises an eyebrow, way too smug.

"Huh. All over, you say?"

Evil smirk unlocks.

Turns the tables immediately.

Leans in and whispers, "If you ask nicely, I’ll do it again."

You’re done. You’re finished.

Laughs when you get flustered.

"What? You started this. Own it."

Suddenly way too confident.

Never lets you live it down.

"So, should I clear my schedule for later or…?"

[ptergwen]

im not sure if you’ll see this😭 but can i have reader being like maddy from euphoria, confident, bad bitch, short skirts and she’s dating peter and they have this secret relationship cuz shes popular and hes not so they both go to a party and makes out in the restroom and comes out together and then flash is making fun of them and then she just kisses peter right in front of everyone (im so srry this is long but i hope u see this

out of sight, on his mind ‎♡‧₊˚

ask box  |  taglist  |  blurb masterlist  |  main masterlist

w/c: ?

warnings: making out, suggestiveness, drinking, like one swear

a/n: oh i looooved this idea thank you very much for your service babes :D also don't forget to join my new taglist y'all i only got a couple of you so far & happy reading!

you down a shooter, gagging at the bitter taste of the alcohol. you giggle and stick the tiny bottle in your bra. you're dancing with a group of your friends. one of them takes your hand, the two of you moving to the beat of the music. peter watches you from across the room with the hint of a smile.

he wouldn't typically spend his friday night in the corner of a packed houseparty nursing a cup of jungle juice, but ned insisted they go. his best friend is determined they both up their social statuses this year. they're not too popular at midtown, with the exception of the academic decathlon team.

if people only knew peter was dating one of the most popular girls in school; you.

it was peter's idea to keep your relationship secret. you'd wanted to show him off, but he's too shy. you're always the center of attention, and peter parker doesn't do well with attention. he'd much rather admire you with everyone else in public and be yours in private.

"come on, peter! it's a party! shouldn't we be, like, dancing or something?"

"i don't know, ned. just... drink your juice."

ned takes a generous swig of his drink and cringes. peter chuckles, sipping from his cup.

"what's in jungle juice anyway?"

"um, everything i think. you might blackout if you have too much."

"dude, that's the goal."

you catch peter's eye again. you're holding your friend's arm that's wrapped around your shoulders, hips swaying. you shout along to the music with the rest of the girls in your group. you look so carefree, and so damn good.

the pink, strapless dress you're wearing is hugging your body in all the right places. your hair is styled to perfection, tiny gems dotted along your eyelids. your look is complete with a pair of knee high boots. peter loves your style. there's no way to describe it other than that it's you, who peter adores an insane amount. he wishes he could be as bold as you are.

peter's phone vibrates in his pocket; it's a text from you.

are u watching me?

before he even answers, you send another.

come to the bathroom

peter briefly locks eyes with you. you give him a mischievous smile before slipping away, making some excuse to your friends. he bites his lip to suppress his own grin.

"hey, ned? how about i go get us some refills?"

"bet! i’m gonna dance."

ned hands peter his cup and claps him on the shoulder, disappearing into the crowd. instead of refilling their drinks, peter makes his way to the bathroom. there's a few people waiting in line. knowing you, you've already claimed it from them. he knocks at the door. a hand reaches out and grabs at peter's flannel, pulling him inside.

"hi, baby."

your glossy lips capture peter's in a kiss. he instantly leans into it, but you pull back much to his dismay. his big brown eyes go even bigger.

"woah... hi."

you laugh softly.

"miss me?"

"seems like you missed me too."

"maybe."

you run a hand through peter's hair. his hands settle on your hips.

"sorry for watching you, couldn't help it. you look so pretty tonight."

"i always look pretty."

your tone is playful, but peter knows you mean it, and he couldn't agree more.

"whatcha been up to? you having fun?"

your manicured nails scratch lightly at peter's scalp. he practically purrs at the feeling.

"mm, just been hanging with ned. i don't really know anybody else."

"you know me."

"but you're with your friends."

"so?"

"so... you know i’m shy, princess."

you giggle.

"it's just 'cause you're not drunk enough, baby."

"oh yeah?"

peter's thumbs run up and down your sides, face only inches from yours. you retrieve the shooter from your bra. there's still at least half a shot left.

"open."

peter does as you say and opens his mouth. you take his chin between your fingers and tilt his head back, pouring the rest of the strong, sweet liquid down his throat. he swallows. you toss the bottle aside. peter gives you a look, one that says kiss me. you shake your head, smirking.

you want him to kiss you.

peter's lips smash into yours. his eagerness makes you giggle into the kiss. you grip the collar of his shirt in both hands, lips moving slowly against each other's. peter backs you against the door.

"did i already tell you how pretty you look?"

"mhm, but not enough."

"you're right. you're so pretty."

peter kisses down your neck, breathing in the scent of your perfume. you guide his lips back up to yours.

"you are too, y'know."

you peck peter's lips softly, letting your lips linger over his after, eyes searching his. they twinkle. you mesmerize him, truly mesmerize him. you kiss an awe-struck peter properly this time. he holds your waist, head tilted to deepen the kiss.

your make out session is rudely interrupted by someone knocking on the door.

"yeah, one second!" you answer. "let's get out of here."

peter groans and buries his face in your neck.

"but i don't want to. wanna keep kissing you."

"not here, baby."

"why not?"

he leaves more kisses on your neck. you coax peter away, laughing, his arms still wrapped tight around you.

"the line. wanna find somewhere else?"

peter perks up at that.

"okay, let's go."

you lead peter out of the bathroom. he follows, hand in yours. even though no one seems to pay any mind to the fact that you were in the bathroom together, peter can't help but blush. he doesn't make it out unscathed, though; none other than flash thompson notices him.

"penis parker, is that you?"

you stop walking, eyeing flash over your shoulder. peter lets out an exasperated sigh.

"what's up, flash?"

"you are."

peter looks down to see an obvious bulge in his jeans. his cheeks burn hotter, hand leaving yours to readjust himself. a few people turn around to look.

"y/n's a big step up from your imaginary girlfriend. where'd you say she was from again, canada?"

you narrow your eyes at flash, a hand wrapping around peter's bicep.

"do you know him?"

"yeah, we're... friends. sort of. we do academic decathlon together."

your gaze shifts to peter.

"friends?"

"oh yeah, we go way back. any friend of parker's is a friend of mine."

flash smirks at you. you look him up and down, face scrunched in disgust.

"ew."

more people are starting to watch the exchange. you glare at flash, who holds your gaze knowingly. peter can tell you're about to go into protective girlfriend mode. he squeezes your hand that's on his arm.

"anyways, just wanted to congratulate you on your first baddie," flash tells him. "try not to fumble."

before peter can process what's happening, your lips are on his, hands cupping his cheeks to keep him in place. maybe it's just because he's tipsy, but peter actually finds himself having the courage to kiss you back in front of everyone. you smile at this. he holds you by your waist, letting himself enjoy the kiss for a while longer.

peter's lips are puffy and covered in your gloss when you two pull apart. he draws you in closer to himself, giving you one more short kiss, then another. the two of you earn whistles and chatter from everyone watching. you giggle, thumbs caressing peter's cheeks and gaze meeting his.

there's something in his eyes that you haven't seen before; confidence. he might be shy, but not when it comes to you. not anymore.

you look over at flash smugly, his mouth dropped open.

"he won't."

tags (join my new taglist!)

@spidermans-gf @sacharinee

[emriiis]

Dating Abby

❥ teases you a lot. Abby, fresh out of the shower, his body still dripping as he stands in the dim light of his bathroom. Steam clings to the mirror, curling around the edges of his reflection. He drags a hand through his wet hair, slow and deliberate, before glancing down at the pathetic excuse of a towel slung low on his hips.

The towel clings obscenely to his hips, heavy with water and doing nothing to hide the very obvious outline straining beneath it. He’s already hard. His abs flex with every breath, rivulets of water trailing over his v-line, sliding down toward the bulge pulsing against the thin cotton.

And of course, he picks up his phone.

He sends you the first photo.

Then another.

Then a close-up, jaw sharp and lips parted just enough to show the edge of a grin. And finally, a video, his voice a low, dangerous rasp.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you, kitten. This is what you do to me.”

You’re in bed when the first photo hits your phone, and your breath catches. Jaw slack. Pulse skipping. By the third image, your thighs are pressing together and your fingers tremble as you scroll. The moment his voice hits your ears through the video, your body lights up.

He texts again:

“You gonna just stare, baby? Or do you want me to come over and show you how hard I ache for you?”

❥ possessive man. You didn’t even notice the guy at first. He was just another backstage assistant—friendly, smiley, a little too bold for someone who just handed you a water bottle. He tried asking you out. You laugh politely, taking a step back. But before you can say another word, a hand slides around your waist — broad, warm, commanding.

Abby doesn’t say a thing at first. Just presses his chest to your back, the heat of his bare arm wrapping around your front like a claim. His palm settles possessively on your lower stomach, thumb rubbing slow, hypnotic circles into your side. The kind of touch that says mine without a single word.

“Hey,” the assistant starts again, clearly not getting the message. “We were just—”

Abby finally speaks, voice low and deceptively calm. “She’s not available.” His lips brush your ear as he says it, breath hot, voice smooth and deep like it’s meant to melt straight into your skin.

The guy stiffens, mumbles something, and backs away fast. He turns you gently, slowly, until you're facing him. His gaze drops to your mouth, then drags back up, lazy and dark.

“You didn’t even notice I was watching, did you?” he murmurs. “Saw him eyeing you the second you walked in. Saw the way you smiled back.” He leans in until your foreheads touch, voice just a breath. “You really think I’d let that slide?”

You don’t respond.

Not with the way his hand slips lower on your waist. Not with the way his thumb grazes the line of skin just above your waistband. His nose brushes yours as he tilts his head, not kissing you — just close enough to make you ache for it.

“I don’t care if the whole building’s watching,” he whispers, “I’ll make sure they all know who you belong to.”

❥ touchy touchyyy. Abby doesn’t mean to overwhelm you. Not intentionally, no. But he has no real concept of his own strength — not when it comes to you. He’s a demon, built like a fortress, all sharp abs and towering height, and you? You’re human. Soft. Fragile. Smaller in ways he’s painfully aware of every time he pulls you into his arms

And gods, he tries to be gentle.

But then you look at him with those tired eyes, wrap your arms around his waist like you need him, and something inside him growls to life.

His hands are always on you. A palm on your lower back when you walk, fingers brushing your thigh when you sit beside him, arms wrapped tight around you when you so much as breathe differently. He touches you like he’s making sure you’re still there, still his — always tethered to him.

Sometimes he hugs you too tight without realizing, until you gasp and press a hand to his chest with a breathless laugh. He instantly loosens his grip, brows furrowing, lips brushing your forehead as he murmurs, “Sorry, baby... didn’t mean to crush you.”

But he never fully lets go.

❥ being soft only for you. You’re curled up on the couch, hoodie pulled over your knees, a faint wince tugging at your features with every cramp. You didn’t say much—just a quiet “I’m fine” when he asked.

But Abby knows better.

He’s behind you within seconds, sliding onto the couch without a word. One arm wraps securely around your waist, the other gently pulling your hips back until you're resting fully against his chest.

His hand moves under the hoodie, warm palm pressing against the tense muscles low on your stomach. The way he strokes your skin there, slow and rhythmic, has you breathing deeper without realizing it.

You sigh. He tightens his hold around your waist in response, like he’s drawing the pain out of you with every pass of his hand.

“That’s it,” he whispers, lips ghosting your temple. “Let me take care of you.”

❥ always asks you to work out with him. Not because he actually expects you to break a sweat — no, never that. He just likes having you close. Laying around like some pretty little prize while he grunts and moves and flexes, his sweat-slicked body a full visual buffet made just for you.

“Come here,” he says today, already shirtless, already glistening. His abs flex with every breath as he lowers himself onto the floor, smirking at the way your eyes wander. “If you’re not gonna work out, at least make yourself useful.”

You raise a brow, feigning boredom. “Useful how?”

His answer is a low growl of a laugh as he gently tugs you down beside him. Then under him. One strong arm wraps around your waist, flipping you easily onto your back until he’s caging you there — arms planted on either side of your head, chest hovering just inches above yours.

“I need motivation,” he murmurs.

He dips down slow and presses a kiss to your lips.

Push-up one. Victory kiss.

He lowers again. This time, he brushes the tip of his nose against yours before kissing you again, slower.

Push-up two. Another kiss.

By the third one, you’re squirming slightly under him, warmth pooling low in your stomach as his heavy body moves above yours, sweat from his chest just starting to kiss your skin.

“You know,” you whisper, grinning as he hovers above your lips, “this doesn’t really count as me working out.”

He silences your smirk with a kiss that steals your breath. Firmer. Longer.

“Then stay still and look pretty,” he murmurs against your lips. “That’s your job.”

You don’t argue. Not when he keeps pressing into you like that, every push-up a reward, every kiss a claim.

Some days he switches it up.

“On my back, pretty girl,” he says, voice thick and dark and hungry for you. “I need the extra weight.”

You blink. “You serious?”

“Kitten,” he chuckles, “I could do this with you asleep on me.”

You giggle, but climb onto his back, arms slipping around his neck, chest pressing to his sweat-damp skin.

He starts moving immediately — push-ups like you weigh nothing, like he was built to carry you.

When he finally collapses onto the floor with you still clinging to him, he rolls over and cages you under his weight, eyes locked on yours, breathing heavy.

Then he kisses you again — deep and slow, like you're the only thing that ever made him lose control.

[ashlovesfood]

Rearrange My Guts!

Tags: Dinner, cooking, reassurance, gentle, eye contact, we gonna keep playing eye contact or you gonna holla at ya boy? arousal, sticky slick, kissing, marking, hickies, Bruce and Clark are HORNY freaks, rough fucking, oral sex, face fucking, multiple orgasms, cum, Bruce is rough and Clark is gentle, switching positions, eyes rolling back, EVERYONE is FREAKYYY!

Visuallll (Doesn't match story but its okay!) (″･ิ_･ิ)っ

Clark Kent, one of the top reporters in the world, sharing you with Bruce Wayne- excuse me? It started off with you at work, texting your husband on break while you ate a quick snack. He was talking about one of his friends, a highly known writer that was currently visiting Gotham for an interview.

That’s when you decided to be friendly, and suggested dinner with him to help and try to get along. Maybe that’s where things started to take a slight turn… Bruce was hesitant at first, not being the hugest fan of sharing a dinner with his friend, but he agreed at last. Clark wouldn’t make a bold move right?.. As you got off work to start on dinner, the idea of making delicious roast potatoes and steak came to mind.

You started off with chopping the potatoes into cubes, seasoning the chunks with salt, pepper, and garlic, then drizzled the pan with olive oil. The kitchen oven warmed up nicely as you opened the door, a warm heat wave hitting you quickly. Potatoes were done and needed to cook, now came the steaks.

This process was somewhat challenging, your brain overthinking about what Clark would like and what not so you asked Bruce.

“Yes baby what’s wrong?��� Bruce was in his office, cleaning his desk off and powering down everything in the building to go home while he listened to your voice. “Hi B. Sorry, just- listen what does Clark like for steak? I’m just- need to get it right for dinner or I’ll mess up and everything’s going to be ruined and,” “Sweets. Calm down and take a breath, just please wait. I can reassure you that Clark likes anything on his steak and he doesn’t have any allergies, he’ll eat anything handed to him. Medium rare is perfect for the steaks. Pretty big guy if I do say so myself honey, just trust me- he will like anything you make so do not overthink it okay?” “I- okay. Thank you, handsome. Really need that right now.”

You took a breath, letting the calm moment resurface so you could continue with tonight and not stress out. The call ended with Bruce saying that he and Clark would be coming at the same time, his voice giving you reassurance one more time before hanging up. The small heartbeat in your chest faded into a calm beat, the feeling of being helped by Bruce made you calm down instantly.

As you prepped the steaks with salt and pepper, the skillet was warming up waiting for you to place the meat in. It smelt fresh of food around the manor, the warmth bringing a welcoming feeling. “Oh the potatoes!” You grabbed the cute oven mitt from the hanger, sliding the door open to grab the pan of fresh roasted potatoes. The smell was heavenly, you smiled at your cooking and placed the pan on the counter to let it cool down. Sizzling brought you back to the skillet, the steak was seared on one side and you flipped it revealing the beautiful brown color. You added butter, thyme, and garlic into the pan letting the sauce infuse into the steak for a delicious flavor.

The door clicked open, and you heard voices. “Bun, are you here?” Bruce placed his coat on the chair and told Clark to follow him. “I’m in the kitchen!” The aroma of fresh steak wafted around in the air as Bruce and Clark walked in, your back turned to them as you watched the steak. “Good evening, Mrs.Wayne.” The heat turned off as the steak was perfectly cooked in the skillet, the butter basting the meat to make it extra juicy.

“Please, no need to be so formal with me. Call me by my name.” You gave him a polite smile, looking at his eyes through his black rimmed glasses. “B, can you cut the steak and I’ll set the table? Would you both like to drink wine?” Your eyes flipped to both of them as they answered, being fine with wine.

The cabinet above the fridge was holding the wine, your fingertips barely grazing the handle. Clark stepped behind you, reaching the cabinet door and pulling out the bottle of Bordeaux, his front pressing down on your back. Bruce eyed Clark but didn’t say anything as he placed the meat on the plates, a slight smirk wiped on his face. You shuddered at the feeling, the layers of fabric separating skin to skin contact. “I’m sorry- didn’t mean to get so close..” He placed the Bordeaux onto the counter, adjusting his glasses while he stepped back. You awkwardly chuckled, pretending like it never happened and that your panties were not kind of damp.  

“Dinners ready, both of you.” Bruce’s voice cut through the air, a shiver running down your spine going straight to your pussy. “Oh thank you Bruce..” You coughed to clear your throat as you walked towards the table, sliding the chair out to sit. All of you sat down to eat, having a light conversation about work, the background playing your soft dinner playlist.

“The food is delicious. I, you’re a really good cook Mrs.Wayne.” Clark complimented your skills, a slight blush washing over your features. The wine was definitely starting to catch up.. Bruce eyed you silently, then looked at Clark. They made a look that signaled something, their eyes diverting back to you. You felt your thighs clench together, why was the air so warm and sticky now?.. It smells like Clark’s cologne and Bruce’s scent, and arousal shoots through your body.

The dinner was abandoned as all of you fumbled around in the hallway, Bruce had his boner rubbing against your ass cheek while Clark was nipping at your neck. You moaned in ecstasy, the sound making them even harder. Clothes were strewn across the stairs, reaching up the floor of your bedroom. Clark took off his glasses, placing them on the nightstand as he watched you on the bed. Bruce was taking his time, making out with you while he rubbed your nipples, the cold air making them harden.

“Mnghh! N-Need you both..” You panted under the kiss, Clark and Bruce chuckled as they watched you tremble with pleasure. Bruce took your mouth, slapping his cherry red tip on your cheek, the small dribble of pre on your face. “Oh bunny.. ‘M gonna fuck you so damn good..” Bruce shoved his cock into your mouth, hitting your gag reflex making you roll your eyes back. Clark was in between your thighs, lapping at the slick that coated your skin. “Taste soo good f’me ma..” Clark’s mouth was sucking and licking up all your juice, his long tongue prodding your hole making your arch.

The pleasure was too much, too fast, too filling. Your first orgasm felt like a train wreck, you convulsed as Bruce and Clark kissed and marked your body, bite marks and hickies littered your skin. “M cummmingg..!” Bruce released his load into your throat, the hot ropes of fresh cum making his tip sensitive. Clark was rutting against the sheets, his pretty pink tip leaving a wet spot on the bed.

“Oh fuck- Bruce, switch w’ me..” Clark could feel all 10 inches throbbing with need, his pink tip leaking with precum, as Bruce was shooting blanks into your mouth his cherry red color he slipped out of you. You were panting, your eyes heavily lidded from the pleasure. “Ngh- no more, pleasepleasepleasee!” Your body was flipped instantly, Bruce was lining his tip up to your pussy while Clark was about to abuse your mouth. They looked at eachother, and used your holes at the same time.

“Hngh!” It made you feel so full, both holes being used like a fleshlight to their own will. The heavy sounds of grunts and groans filled the room, it smelt like musky cologne and the sweet smell of your delicious pussy. “Milking me so good bunny- Fuckfuckfuckfuck..!” Bruce sped up his pace, thrusting into your tight walls faster than before sending electric shocks through your body. Your eyes were rolled up into the back of your head, and you moaned around Clark’s base while he fucked your face.

It was overwhelming, the feeling of having your holes filled with giant cocks, and Bruce was allowing it! “Ma- use your tongue f’me..” Clark was using your throat to his will, the tip twitching as he felt the edge of his orgasm about to burst. You licked the veins that ran up and down, another orgasm or two making your body shiver. The slick was lubricating Bruce’s dick, his thrusts sloppy and rough, he’s about to cum. “Gonna cum in this sweet pussy..” Bruce groaned, his hot load filling your womb to the brim, it was soooo damn hot.. Clark followed shortly after, his abs clenching as another load was released into your body, the taste of his cum was lingering on your tongue. You whined when they took out their dicks, shaking from the aftermath of your body. “Mm.. I’ll use your dicks next time..!”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

A/N Releasing intro post by tmrr ★~(◠ω◕✿)

[lostinlovingrevery]

Thinking about OldMan!Logan putting reader in the strongest, horniest matting press ever until she cries and begs him to slow down

You Make Me Feel So Young

Old man Logan X F! Reader

Logan's feeling feisty

A/N: I imagine Logan bursting into readers room like that big bird gif. You'll see what I mean.

Warnings: SMUUUT! MDNI, sexting/nudes, mutual masturbation, unprotection PiV, Logan gets a tad rough, and then a lil mean and teasing, mating press :), creampie

He hadn't felt this good in ages.

What was causing his sudden heightened mood, burst of energy, he didn't know. Maybe it was because he actually ate breakfast this morning, or the sunlight from earlier today and warm brush of wind that signaled Spring was here, or maybe it was because he has a pretty little thing by his side. All starry-eyed and eager to take care of him, make him happy.

Since you've come to his life, he has no excuse to stare down the bottom of a bottle every night. He doesn't skip meals anymore, because you won't let him. Even if he tries to tell you he's not hungry- you'd pout,

"You're really going to let me eat this all alone?"

And shit, he can never resist the way you stick out your bottom lip and look at him pleadingly with those stunning eyes. So he'll eat a few fries off your plate, finish off your sandwich. sip on your water with you.

What do you know, eating actual food, drinking water, it does make you feel better.

The aches and pain still come. The fits of coughing. The pain of his wounds healing themselves slower than they used too- yet still faster than an average man. Instead of bleeding to death like most men would with injuries he has sustained, he sits in some type of purgatory, not healed, but not dead either.

You're always there though. There to soothe the aches and pains. To rub his back when it gets too much. To clean him up and stitch what hasn't healed yet. You do it with a smile and a kiss.

He hasn't told you he loves you yet, but he's pretty sure you know.

It's not all about what you do for him though. Just who you are. Wonderful, full of life. He sees a future with you. When before, all he wanted was to take that last breath, finally be pretty to rest in the cold dirt; Now, he has reason to keep going, everyday.

The Chrsylers door slams shut, as he watched last of the bachelor's party drunkenly stumble back into the hotel. Normally he'd getting irritated chuaffering around a bunch of drunken fools but he couldn't deny that he was amused by them tonight. In a way, they reminded him of his young self. Bold, arrogant, didn't take life that serious.

As he watched the last nearly nosedive into the glass doors of the hotel entrance, he felt a vibration in his pocket. Pulling out his phone and glasses, he tucked them on and unlocked the screen where he saw your name popped up.

Busy night?

His expression softened at your name and text. Always checking up on him. It's late, you should be asleep. You like to wait up for him despite his pleas for you not too. One of you should at least have a full nights sleep. He looked back at the hotel entrance, making sure none of the bachelors have passed out in the foyer in their own vomit, before returning to the drivers seat.

Once seated, he texts you back.

Got a few jobs

He set his phone on his lap, waiting for you to text back while he stared out the window. The phone buzzed and he quickly grabbed it.

Should I expect you late, or do you think you'll come home soon?

Another text from you came in just as he read the first one

I miss you <3

A faint smile stretched across his face. He responds back to you.

I'll see what I can do. Miss you too baby.

He exits your chat, going to the app where he gets his jobs and communicates with customers. The next pickup isn't for an hour. He grumbles to himself, as he felt eager to join your company. He as scowled at the time of the job- your name popped up again.

He clicked on the chat.

To keep you company ;)

Below your text, was an image. An extremely delightful image to grace Logan's eyes. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He let out a soft gasp, eyes growing heavy as he observes the curves of your figure in the dirty picture you have sent him. Your hand strategically placed to block what he really wanted to see.

Fuck

His cock throbbed in his trousers and he quickly palms it with his free hand. He stared at every detail, every single pixel- as if he hadn't already committed you to his memory. He squeezed himself through his pants, a small groan escaping him.

Another picture came in, from another angle.

He swiped the chat away. Quickly going to the work app, he canceled the job. Fuck it if he loses some money- all the blood in his head has rushed down to his second head, he's not thinking straight anymore.

Once the cancellation was confirmed, he put the limo into drive, checked his mirrors and quickly pulled off onto the road, driving towards the highway.

Meanwhile, you're in bed, concerned by a lack of response from Logan. It's marked that he's seen it- and he usually responds. Sometimes you'd get a phone call from him, leading to some phone sex as you get yourself off to the sound of his voice. Never have you received nothing from him though. It made you worry if he got into some trouble.

It's not till you heard the familiar sound of doors opening and shutting that you sat up from bed. You held a blanket over yourself, still nude from the pictures you've taken, and listened to the sound of footsteps approaching the bedroom.

The door opened, and Logan stood there- looking flustered as hell.

"Oh-" You blinked in surprise, "Lo, honey what are you doi-"

Before you could finish, he was on you faster than you could blink. His hands tore your comforter off you, as he grabbed your ankles and pulled you towards him with a yelp, him kneeling onto the bed and slotting himself between your legs and his lips crashed onto yours.

You moaned as he licked into you mouth. He grinds into your core, you could feel his hard cock through his trousers. Your arousal was soaking the cloth of his pants but he didn't care. Your hands clenched at his shirt, desperately grabbing onto him, onto something because he was moving so damn fast you could barely process it.

"Logan!" You gasped, tearing yourself away from his kisses. "Baby- what's got into you?"

"You." He says, lurching forward again, his tongue pressed against yours. His hands explored your figure. Cupping your breasts and rubbing circles into your nipples. He slid them down your curves, pulling you flush against his hips as his kisses trailed down your neck and between the valley of your breasts.

"Mm-" You tipped your head back, arching into him as his tongue ran over your skin, becoming hot and sweaty from Logan's incessant grinding. You pushed him up, sitting yourself up in his lap while meeting him in a heated kiss.

Your hands pushed off his jacket, and worked on unbuttoning his shirt. Once you reached the last button, he pulled it off, discarding it to the side. You helped him pulled off his white tank. Revealing his torso, littered with hair and scars. You pressed open mouth kisses over his chest, running your tongue over a nipple- a deep moan from him gracing your ears.

He pushed you back onto the bed, and you watched him quickly undo his belt, unzipping his pants and pushing it down to his thighs.

"Those pictures really riled you up huh?" You smiled.

He looked down at you, and grinned. His smile sent warmth through you- and a little worry. Almost devilish in how he looked at you.

His thumbs hooked into his briefs, pulling them down to join with his pants. His cock waved at you in the air, and you couldn't help the small giggle that escaped you at the sight of it.

Reaching your hand up, you grasped his girth. Your thumb ran along the thick vein that ran from his hip, down to the tip of his head, red and swollen- leaking pre-cum that you used as a lube as you stroked him slowly, watching as his expression melted into something pleasurable.

He wasn't going to let you have all the fun though.

He leaned down over you while you jerked him. His free hand reached down between your thighs, finding your clit. His calloused fingers rubbed circles into you- at the same pace that you stroked him.

His lips brushed over yours, but he didn't fully kiss you. Only a teasing touch as he circled your clit, making your hips squirm. Every time your hand pumped him faster, his own hand worked you faster- until your panting, barely able to focus, your hand moving him on autopilot as you focused on your impending finish.

Only-

He took his hand away. You felt your pleasure melt away, leaving your core aching and needy.

"Logan-" You whined,

"Hush baby." He grumbles, bringing his hands to the back of your knees and pushing them up to your chest. "I got you-"

You angled his cock to your core, as he carefully thrusts into your folds, bumping your clit that elicits a harsh gasp from you each time. Then you felt his tip push into your cunt, and your head fell back in relief as he buried himself in you- inch by inch.

He barely gave you time to adjust- not wanting to waste another second of his burst of energy, he began pounding into your pussy. A moaned scream escaped you, as your hands reached to grab onto his wrists- where he still held your legs to your chest.

"Lo-!" You cried out. The bed shook underneath you, his thrusts coming in powerful droves where his hips slammed against yours.

"Taking me so damn well darling-" He says through gritted teeth, as sweat beaded his forehead, and his face becomes more flushed.

You never seen him like this before. While you and Logan had a fairly active sex life, his stamina and energy wasn't always there. Still better than anyone you ever been with though- the man can make you cum as many times as he desired, completely wreck you.

This, it was almost too much.

He was fucking into your harder and faster than you were used too. It felt so good, but so much. You couldn't think straight, you couldn't catch your breath. You're pretty sure the mattress is going to break soon under the power of his thrusts.

Breathless, you tried to say his name- to tell him to slow down but you could barely manage it. The buildup in you was intense. Your nails dug into his skin. Logan's grunts filled your ears, and you could only focus on the sound of him and the feeling of his cock splitting you open over and over and over.

He leaned down, his chest and hips flushed against you. Your legs hooked over his shoulders and he wrapped his arms completely around you. His pace didn't falter, in fact he seemed to get faster- using you as leverage to slam into you harder.

His knees spread farther and buried into the mattress, his heavy breath hit across your face. He tipped his chin up, staring down at you with parted lips- watching your every expression.

He never admitted to you how he wished he'd met you in his prime. Where he could go multiple rounds without breaking a sweat. Sure, his game is still considerably better then most men, but nothing like how he used to be. He can put you to sleep, happy, satisfied and filled with him to the brim. He always wants to give you more.

This? This was just merely a fraction of what he could do to you. Whatever this burst of energy he has, he's using every bit of it.

"Lo-" Your lips formed into that pout he always thought was so cute. "I- I-!" You whined, unable to form words. Each thrust knocking them out of your head.

"What sweetheart?" He grunted. You moaned, your head falling limply to the side, tears welling up in your eyes as exhaustion threatened to break you.

"Slow down!" You managed to cry out, before moaning when he hits that sweet, honey spot inside you.

"What's that baby?" He asks, clearly having heard you- but he wanted to hear it again. It may be awful, but fuck it fills him with pride to hear a young thing like you to beg him to slow down.

"Please- Slow, slow down?" You whined,

He obliges, pacing himself slowly in and out of you. It felt good, you could catch your breath- but now he was being painfully slow. He rutted deep into you, the coarse hair that sat above his cock brushed over your clit, sending shocks of pleasure through you that made your legs tremble- but it wasn't enough to push you over that edge you needed so badly.

"That better baby?" He coos, a teasing edge in his voice.

"You can...Go faster than that-" You mumbled lazily.

"Slow down, go faster, can't make up your mind now can you?" He taunts. He stops himself, buried inside you, but unmoving.

"Logan!" You cried. "Move!"

"Oh, that's not good enough either huh?"

You huff, opening your eyes to look at him- to be greeted by a cocky grin. Almost youthful in the way his eyes sparkling looking down at you. You realized he loved every second of this. He always teased you a little bit, but this was something different.

You like it.

"Please- Please you can do whatever you want just-"

You gasped when he picked up his brutal pacing into you again. Angling himself to pound into the sweet spot, that had you seeing stars. You've become mindless, just taking everything he gives you.

He could feel the way you clenched around him, the look in your eyes told him you were close. Contrary to his brutal thrusts, he softly pressed his lips over yours, gentle and loving. He whispered,

"Cum for me baby."

You let go, waves of pleasure rushing through you, seemingly never-ending as Logan fucks you through it. Your throat was hoarse from screaming his name- you didn't even notice.

Logan slammed into you one last time, as you felt his cock twitch inside you. With a loud grunt and locked jaw, he filled you up- just as he likes to, his messy way of claiming you all for himself.

His face buried into your neck when he finished, the both of you out of breath, covered in sweat.

"Lo..." You sighed sleepily. "Mm, that was nice."

"Yeah." He replies, before pushing himself up and pulling out of your carefully. Your legs were sore, and numb from being in one position for so long. To your surprise, he flipped you onto your stomach. "We're not finished yet, darling."

[no-144444]

chapter one: twists and turns - ln.4

summary: lando norris was a preppy asshole in secondary school, and you were the girl he despised. years later, you're a hot-shot sports lawyer rewriting the rules of the sport he calls home, and your paths cross, whether you want them to or not.

pairing: lando norris x fem! lawyer! reader

a/n: anything in orange and bold is the past

𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟𓆝

Lando stared at his alarm clock, waiting for it to go off in exactly one minute. He loved his off-season, but hated getting back into training. It made everything ten times harder, he was ten times more tired, and he had no more me-time.

Wales was nice, he thought, but after his exhausting day of test after test, all he really wanted was to be back in Monaco and somehow convince Max F to come over. He sat in his hotel room and felt that same pang of loneliness he’d been working his whole life to subdue. That feeling that settled itself deep in his chest and didn’t come out until he was with his friends or his family. He liked being with people, he was a people-person, but he also wanted something deeper. Something fulfilling. He looked out the window, Swansea was pretty beautiful, actually. The water was calm and the moon reflected off it, making it all look a bit more cinematic than it did during the day. His phone buzzed and he reached over his bed to grab it. 

Zak B: We need you back in Monaco tomorrow for a pretty exciting meeting 😃. See you there!

He groaned into his pillow. He was getting slightly disillusioned with F1. He had no chance if he didn’t win it this year, and no excuses. He just wanted the season to start already so he could get on with himself and prove that he learnt from everything last year. One chance. One more chance, or McLaren would drop him. 

𓆝 𓆟

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he walked into a Law firm, but it wasn’t this. His lawyers were all suit and tie-wearing, stuck up, and slightly pompous. This place seemed pretty fun to be honest. There were notice boards up for ‘trainee-activities’, free seminars on cool shit, and it was in the mountains, overlooking all of Monté-Carlo. 

“This way please,” a young woman directed him to a long board room, where half the grid already sat, with a large number of older drivers too, and all the current team principals, with some oldies as well. He sat between Max and Jenson, greeting them both. 

“What’s this about?” He turned to Jenson. He just shrugged and smiled. 

“Not sure, just got invited, said it was important,” he explained. 

Lando looked across the table at Oscar, who had definitely just rolled out of bed. He kicked him under the table, and brought him to full attention. 

“Ouch,” Oscar deadpanned, kicking Lando’s foot back. “What?”

Lando smirked, watching Oscar's reaction. “What’s all this about?” 

He shrugged. “Andrea just sent me a text.” 

Suddenly, another door opened and 4 people stepped out, but he couldn’t really make out who they were, but the room went silent anyway. One of them turned around and looked, smiling at some of the drivers, then turned back and sent more hushed whispers to his colleagues.

Another one turned around, smiling at the group. “You’re almost all here, so I guess we’ll get started,” he announced and all eyes were curiously watching him. “We know we’ve been pretty secretive about what this meeting is about, but trust us, we think you’ll be happy to know that it’s about the rules of F1.”

And then you turned around, and Lando’s world was flipped on its side. His eyes probably shot out of his head like a cartoon character, so much so that Oscar gave him a weird look. But he didn’t look at Oscar, he couldn’t. Not when you were right in front of him for the first time in years. 

“I’m Dr. Y/l/n,” you smiled. “This is Mr. Davidson, Ms. Riley, and Ms. Ray, my associates. I’m an expert in sports law, and Mr. Davidson here is my trainee. I’ve worked especially in Rugby and Rally Racing law, as have my three colleagues here, and we are here to speak to you about making the rules of F1, and motorsport in general, a lot more fair for the drivers and governing body,” you explained. “Any questions before we get started?” 

Everyone was quiet, and Lando was too busy looking at you to notice the question. 

“Great,” you smiled at the table. “I’ll let Mr. Davidson take it away,” you turned to him, and for a split second- Lando swore up and down- he saw him smirk at you. Lando wasn’t listening to the rule changes you all wanted to make, he was too busy watching you shuffle through papers and add notes as Mr.Davidson spoke. He had a scowl plastered on his face from the second that man opened his mouth. Yet, you stood there, laughing at his stupid law puns, helping him out when he got lost, and adding in bits he clearly had forgotten. You’d changed, clearly. Lando could remember doing a group project with you, back in Year 8, you were a fucking dictator. If he spelt one word wrong, misused one comma, you’d find it and berate him. The scowl only deepened.

“And now moving on to why we’re doing this. We asked the FIA about changing to a law-like system, and they were strongly against it, but we went to the owner of F1, Mr. Domenicali, and he agreed this needed to happen. We’re working with the FIA here, so don’t expect everything to turn out just perfect, I’m sure they’ll still be difficult to work with, but we want to get as close to fair as we can. Now, we’re handing out pages of paper to everyone at the table and we want your opinions on the rules right now, write specific rules that need changing and how you’d change them, give us your opinions on the system in place now and how we can fix them, we want as much input as possible,” you smiled to the group as the others handed out pages of paper and pens to everyone. George, of course, began writing a novel on his page. Oscar jotted down some ideas. Jenson wrote about 10 words. Lando just stared at his page. Then wrote:

Call me. XXX XXX XXX

And he held his paper up to be collected like he was in school. He saw how reluctant you were to grab his paper, but you took it anyway. 

You were less than impressed to see what he’d written and he could see it on your face. You looked at him for the first time, and all he did was smirk back and wave. You crumpled up his page and handed him a new sheet of paper. 

He was happy with himself. He missed this, these secret moments between you two, the ones that made him feel better about himself. He liked how no one saw, and no one noticed. He liked that it was just you and him, and nothing could change that.

𓆝 𓆟

“What’s with you and Dr. Y/l/n?” Oscar mused as they sat in the lobby, waiting to be given their ‘buddy’. 

Lando stared back at him. “What do you mean?” Oscar was like… the least socially conscious person he'd ever known, surely he wasn’t being that obvious, right? 

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Do you think I’m fucking blind mate?” 

Lando shrugged with a hopeful smirk. “Yes?”

“Dude, come on. How do you know her?” 

“School,” he relieved. “But it’s not like we were friends. We just… knew each other.”

Oscar nodded, satisfied with his answer. If only he knew how complicated it really was. 

ᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺ

“This is Y/n Y/l/n, she’s new in school, please show her around,” the Principal, Ms. Browne smiled at Lando. “Your parents know each other, correct?”

In the loosest sense of the term, Lando thought. He knew who you were, he’d seen you at some parties his parents had dragged him to. You were like every other girl at the school, a prim, proper, prickly, princess. At least, that’s what his brain told him, because he’d literally rather do algebra than show the new girl around the school. 

You answered for him. “We do, yes. Thank you Miss.”

You were so polite. So polished. It pissed him off, and he couldn’t even tell why. He rolled his eyes and slid off his chair, mumbling a small “Come on, princess,” as he showed you to the door. 

You left the principal’s office behind him, carrying your books. He was short for his age, and he still sounded a bit young for his age, but you didn’t really mind. You knew he was into racing, and your dad followed his career more than he followed your life, so you hated him already. His rudeness and stand-offish behaviour just added fuel to the flames. 

“So, you’d you move here?” he asked, though he was clearly uninterested in the answer. 

“Work,” you answered simply. He nodded. 

“You sing, right?” he asked and you nodded. “What show are you doing?”

“Into the Woods.”

“Have you done it before?” he asked because… well he wanted you to keep talking. He didn’t want some awkward silence he’d have to fill with his own opinions and life, because there wasn’t much there. He wasn’t super into musicals (by any means), but he knew who you were, specifically because his mum was always raving about you to him. You were her friend's daughter, and you were apparently the next Broadway talent. He knew who you were. He knew every show you’d ever been in, mostly because his mum dragged him along when he wasn’t racing. 

“Nope,” you shook your head. “But it’s pretty simple.”

He nodded. “Alright, well, this is your dorm block. You have a map, and I am no longer needed. Goodbye,” he said, before walking back across the campus to his own dorm. His friends were much too happy to know how it went, walking the new girl around the school, it would’ve been cool if it were anyone but you. 

So he just put their gossip to bed by calling you socially awkward and boring.

ᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺ

“Mr. Norris, you’ll be with Mr. Davidson over here,” Sierra, Oscar’s trainee explained. Mr. Davidson sat opposite him with a smile. 

He lifted his hand to shake it. “Call me Liam,” He had a firm handshake, fucking hell. “I’m really excited to be working with you on this. I think you’re a brilliant driver.” 

Just then, Lando caught sight of you over his shoulder and again, all his attention went straight to you. Liam stared at him for a second. “Everything alright?” he asked. 

Lando nodded, his eyes trained on you as you gathered your things, he noticed the way your shirt clung to your body, the way your hair fell, the way your slacks were tight in all the right places. You were perfect. “Who’s Y/n going with?” he asked, without even thinking. 

Liam looked even more confused. “I didn’t you two know each other, small world, eh?” he questioned, chuckling. “And she’s taking the team bosses and some retired drivers. She’ll be at the same amount of races as us though, so you'll get time to catch up-”

“I want her,” he stated, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Her or I’m not doing it.” 

Liam’s face fell, and Lando counted it as a personal win. Oscar covered his face with his hands, embarrassed by his teammates' antics. “Umm, I’ll have to go talk to her about that-”

“Go. I’ll wait,” Lando smiled, looking every bit the aggressor he was being. He looked smug. 

Liam got up and went into a room (what he assumed to be your office), and a few seconds later came out telling him to go in. 

He opened the door and popped his head in. There you were, sitting at a desk behind a large screen, glasses perched dangerously close to falling off your nose. You stopped your vicious typing to look up at him expectantly. “This a good time?” he smirked. You were scowling. You rolled your eyes and went back to your furious typing as he sat down. He looked around your office. Your diplomas on the walls, pictures of you at various events and charity fundraisers, pictures of you and your team (Liam was right beside you in every single one, but he let it slide for a moment). You had a whole life he’d known nothing about. A subtle ache settled itself in his chest as a sort of… guilt blossomed. You had a whole life he knew nothing about, and he had no one to blame but himself-

“What the fuck is your problem?” you demanded, turning your attention to him. 

He chuckled. “That wasn’t very professional.” 

“Lando,” you groaned, regaining your professionalism. “What do you want from me? I didn’t choose this job, I got chosen for the role. I’m managing a team of more than 50 people alone, while doing my duties to speak to all the team bosses and take some work off the plates of my employees. I cannot possibly also talk to you every few days about your experiences with the FIA and the rules,” you huffed. “You have Liam, he’s a great lawyer, trust me.” 

Lando’s mood soured at your casual use of his first name. “Then I won’t do it.” 

You sighed. “You’re only doing yourself a disservice by not doing it, but we can’t force you,” you went back to your typing for a moment. “Close the door on your way out and send Liam in, will you?” 

Reluctantly, he got up and left you to your typing. He knew you needed his opinion, he was one of the other drivers most heavily penalised last year. 

“I’ll wait here,” Lando nodded as Liam went back into your office. 

But he made a mistake. He didn’t close the door after him. 

“You two know each other?” Liams asked. You sighed. 

“Not really, just in passing.” Lie. “He doesn't want to do it, He doesn’t have to.”

“We need his opinion though,” he sighed. “I know he sucks but… we need him.”

“Well I don’t have the time, Liam. I don’t have the time anymore. He’s just trying to rile me up-”

“Maybe I could take the retired drivers off you and you could just do the team bosses and Norris?” Liam offered. 

You were silent for a moment. Then groaned. “I really don’t want to.”

Liam chuckled. “Well, we all have to do things we don't want to do, Princess.”

Lando saw red, but listened further. 

“I guess you’re right. Tell him I’ll see him in Australia.” 

“Alrighty, thanks boss.”

Australia. Right. 

𓆝 𓆟

Pole position, shitty weather, and a win anyway. Good weekend. 

He brushed you off as the celebrations started, but when he saw you chatting with some of his engineers, gathering information, he knew he should speak to you. He was pulled away by the media before he could, and you ended up sending Sierra to do his post-race breakdown. You’d already felt for Monaco.  

Shit.

𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟

twists and turns masterlist

navigation for my blog :)

[bxunyx]

𝐃𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞

Pairing-ModernAU-Smoke&Stack x Black reader

Summary-You are the twins sugar baby

A/N-Ive never wrote anything like this before so bare with me hun

One twin? Maybe. You’ve dealt with bold men before — men who liked pretty things on their arms, who flashed cash and promises like candy. Stack seemed like another one of those: flashy, cocky, dipped in gold and danger. All mouth, all muscle, all that swagger that made girls stupid.

But two?

Two was asking for trouble. The kind that you don’t just flirt with. The kind that drags you in by the throat and makes you say thank you.

Now you’re sitting pretty in the back of a black Escalade with tinted windows and heated leather seats. Stack’s hand is on your thigh, thumb tracing circles higher than it should while he scrolls through his phone. Smoke’s behind the wheel — silent, always — but you can feel his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror, watching. Measuring.

You shift just slightly, tug at the hem of your silk skirt.

And Stack smirks like he knows exactly what you’re doing. Like he’s already planning to ruin it later.

Trouble? Yeah. You’re drowning in it.

But trouble comes with a black card, a diamond tennis bracelet, and your name engraved on the inside of a Louis Vuitton bag.

⸻

Stack spoils you loud.

He’s the type to drag you through the most expensive store in the city and dare the clerk to ask about a limit. Neon signs, loud music, top-floor penthouse parties — he wants you to be seen. Wants people to know who you belong to. “Pick what you want, baby. Matter of fact, pick two. I like you in options.”

He drives too fast. Tips too much. Kisses you like he’s claiming you with every bite.

And when he’s not around? Smoke is.

⸻

Smoke spoils you quiet.

He sends the money before you can ask. The rent’s paid. Your tuition? Covered. Your account balance rises in silence, like a tide — consistent, steady, impossible to ignore. One morning you woke up to a car in your driveway. Not flashy — matte, black, sleek. Clean. Practical. With a note tucked into the cupholder:

“No excuses now. Be on time.”

You remembered telling Smoke how you're always late for the bus

He doesn’t text much. Just enough.

Be home by ten.

Wear the black dress.

Leave the door unlocked.

And you follow every instruction.

Every time.

⸻

You float between them, somewhere in that sweet spot between indulgence and obsession. Draped in designer. Laced in perfumes you can’t pronounce. Lipstick shades picked out by Stack, lingerie sets folded neatly by Smoke.

Marked by both.

Your lips are bruised from one. Your thighs tremble from the other. You wake up with one name in your mouth and fall asleep with the other still on your skin.

They don’t fight. They don’t ask.

Because they both know the answer.

Everyone in the city whispers when you walk into a room. From the street girls to the CEOs — they see the watch on your wrist and the curve of that smirk you always wear, and they know.

Whose girl is she?

The answer’s simple.

Theirs.

⸻

Your phone buzzes at 11:01PM.

Two notifications.

Transfer received: $10,000 — “For being pretty.”

Transfer received: $10,000 — “Because you listened.”

You smile, curl deeper into the plush hotel bedding, and take another sip of wine that cost more than your rent used to.

Then you press Add to savings.

You were never the good girl. Never the quiet one. But somehow, being a little bad never paid so good.

And with both Moore twins wrapped around your finger?

You’re just getting started.

[neferaskingdom]

♡ I'M THE BIGGEST HATER | MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader [Face Claim: None]

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Summary: Max Verstappen and Y/N hate each other's guts. or do they? enemies since the day Max defeated Y/N at their very first Karting race when will these two just stop bickering and (in the wise words of Danny Ric) just kiss already?!?!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A/N: been reading so many of these that I decided to try writing one myself. first time writing a smau so feel free to leave suggestions on how to improve. also comment to join the taglist as this is going to be a multi part series.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Part 1 of my wheel-to-wheel but still in denial series: Masterlist

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

📸: Young Y/N glaring at a smug Max after losing a childhood karting race. Y/N is sulking, and Max is holding the trophy like it’s an Olympic gold medal.

Caption: A perfect example of when I learned the universe is unfair. #tbt to the time maxverstappen1 ruined my life by winning our first kart race. Peak trauma. 👎

Liked by pierregasly, danielricciardo, lando.jpg, and 200,298 others.

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

You’re still mad about one race? Get over it. 🙄

↪ y/n_leclerc:

It’s not just one race. It’s the principle. I was 9, and you were an evil little gremlin.You’re lucky my parents raised me to be nice, or I would’ve shoved you off that podium.

↪ charles_leclerc:

She has a point. You were insufferable, Max.

danielricciardo:

Max still brags about that karting win to this day. 😂

↪ maxverstappen1:

danielricciardo I absolutely do. Winner’s mentality, baby. 🏆

↪ y/n_leclerc:

maxverstappen1 “Winner’s mentality”? You mean “cheater’s mentality”? I see you, Verstappen.

user1:

"Peak trauma" 😂😂 Please, Y/N, it’s been like 15 years. MOVE ON.

carmenmmundt:

Y/N was already giving "future champion energy" even back then.

↪ y/n_leclerc:

carmenmmundt AND she's got excellent taste in fashion, unlike Agent George. See you later for coffee, babe? 💋

↪ georgerussell63:

y/n_leclerc EXCUSE ME. Flirting with my girlfriend now, Y/N? 😂

↪ carmenmmundt:

georgerussell63 Sorry, George, Y/N’s just irresistible. 😘

maxverstappen1 posted a photo:

📸: Max on the podium after a win, champagne spraying everywhere.

Caption: Another win, another day Y/N gets to hate me. Can’t say I’m sorry. #winning #dontcry

Liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, alex_albon, and 360,210 others.

Comments:

y/n_leclerc:

Bold of you to assume I’d cry. I save my tears for important things, like Ferrari strategy meetings. 💔

↪ charles_leclerc:

y/n_leclerc Yeah, same.

lando.jpg:

MAX, WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS? 😂

danielricciardo:

Max trying to make enemies of everyone in the paddock one post at a time. Bold strategy.

pierregasly:

maxverstappen1 If you make her cry, I’m on her side. Just saying. 😎

↪ y/n_leclerc:

pierregasly You’re my favorite Gasly. Let’s get coffee and laugh at Max together.

↪ maxverstappen1:

pierregasly TRAITOR. 😡

y/n_leclerc posted a meme:

📸: A meme of someone dramatically rolling their eyes with the text “Every time Max Verstappen opens his mouth to talk”

Caption: Literally me every time this bitch opens his mouth. Like stfu?? 🙄

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

Just admit it—you think about me all the time.

↪ y/n_leclerc:

I think about you the way I think about stubbing my toe—briefly, painfully, and with regret. 😘

↪ charles_leclerc:

Get a room, you two.

↪ pierregasly:

charles_leclerc They’re already halfway there, bro.

lando.jpg:

Guys, this is giving “enemies to lovers” and I’m so here for it.

danielricciardo:

This is the slowest of slow burns. It’s like watching paint dry but funnier.

danielricciardo posted a meme:

📸: A meme of two dogs barking at each other from across the street, then stopping to awkwardly sniff each other when they meet face-to-face.

Caption: Max and Y/N’s entire relationship summed up in one image.

Liked by y/n_leclerc, landonorris, georgerussell63, and 500,193 others.

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

That’s so not what’s happening here. I don’t sniff anything. 😤

↪ y/n_leclerc:

Max definitely barks more than he bites. 😂

↪ danielricciardo:

maxverstappen1 You bark loud, but Y/N’s the one doing the damage.

georgerussell63:

How long before you two just admit you’re into each other?

↪ y/n_leclerc:

georgerussell63 Into? I’m just into destroying him on the track. Anything else is wishful thinking, George. 😏

y/n_leclerc posted a Video:

🎥: Slow-motion video of Y/N overtaking Max in a karting rematch, with her laughing as she passes him.

Caption: I haven’t lost my touch, maxverstappen1 😎

Comments:

user1:

SHE JUST DUSTED MAX IN KARTING. THE RIVALRY CONTINUES. 😂😂

user2:

Max was so cocky, and now Y/N is out here reminding him she’s a Leclerc. 😏

maxverstappen1:

I let her win. Just being a gentleman. 😌

↪ y/n_leclerc:

maxverstappen1 I beat you so bad I thought you were parked. 😆

↪ user3:

THE SHADEEE OMG

y/n_leclerc posted a video:

🎥: A video of a car zooming past another car with the caption "Me speeding past Max Verstappen’s ego every time I beat him."

Caption: Nothing feels better. maxverstappen1, cry about it. 😘

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

I’m living rent-free in your head. Just admit it😏.

↪ y/n_leclerc:

Rent-free? Bro, you’re squatting in the garbage disposal of my brain. The plumbing is bad, and no one’s happy. 😤.

↪ charles_leclerc:

I’m going to need therapy just from reading this. Can we not?

lando.jpg:

charles_leclerc Your sister has the energy of someone who stays up late making Max Verstappen hate memes.

danielricciardo:

I’d watch a whole Netflix series of this beef.

danielricciardo tweeted:

Prediction: Y/N and Max will either end up dating or killing each other. Either way, I'm selling tickets.

Comments:

user5:

I’d pay for that front-row seat. 🤣

georgerussell63:

Why not both? Dating and fighting. Iconic and toxic just like these two bitches.

y/n_leclerc:

danielricciardo keep your fanfiction to yourself Daniel 🤢

lando.jpg:

danielricciardo I’ll start selling merch. #maxy/n

↪ maxverstappen1:

I'll sue you to oblivion muppet

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

📸: Y/N having drinks with Carmen, Lily and Kika

Caption: wining and dining these beauties while their boyfriends lose at Mario Kart. Boys, you could learn a lot from me. 😘 carmenmmundt, lilymhe, francisca.cgomes

Liked by landonorris, alex_albon, pierregasly, and 280,284 others.

Comments:

georgerussell63:

Carmen’s too good for you, Y/N. Stop trying. 😤

pierregasly

stay away from Kika wench 🤺🤺🤺

alex_albon:

lilymhe Don’t get any ideas. 😬

↪ lilymhe:

Sorry, Alex, Y/N just brings out the best in me. 😏

y/n_leclerc:

georgerussell63, alex_albon, pierregasly Relax, boys. I’m not stealing your girls. Yet. 💅

user1:

The fact that George and Alex are actually worried about this is the funniest thing. 😂

maxverstappen1:

georgerussell63, alex_albon, pierregasly I’ve been telling you guys for years—Y/N causes chaos. Don’t let her near the WAGs!

↪ y/n_leclerc:

maxverstappen1 You're just mad because I can charm people and all you have is your fast car. 😘

alexandrasaintmleux posted a picture:

Caption: Had a lovely coffee date with y/n_leclerc today. Sorry, Charles, you’ve been replaced by the better Leclerc. 💋

Comments:

charles_leclerc:

I leave you alone for one hour, and this happens, where's your loyalty babe?🤦‍♂️

↪ y/n_leclerc:

charles_leclerc Charles, it’s not you, it’s me. I’m just irresistible.

↪ charles_leclerc:

I’m being out-flirted by my own sister. Unbelievable.

oscarpiastri:

charles_leclerc Now I’m nervous to leave Lily around Y/N too… 😬

↪ lilyzneimer:

oscarpiastri Honestly? Can’t blame her. 😘

danielricciardo posted a meme:

📸: Meme of two people bickering with the text "Max and Y/N" but underneath it says "Us: Just kiss already."

Comments:

georgerussell63:

Finally someone said it. 😂

user5:

This slow-burn rivals-to-lovers storyline is too good. Can Netflix turn this into a reality show?

y/n_leclerc:

I'd rather stab myself in the foot

↪ maxverstappen1:

I'd rather jump into a pit of lava

↪ charles_leclerc:

I’ve never seen two people who hate each other this much. It’s exhausting.

↪ landonorris:

What if this isn’t hate, though? What if this is like, love in disguise?

↪ danielricciardo:

I’m just waiting for the day Y/N proposes to Max through a meme.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[randomusingsofalovesickgirl]

EPISODE 01: CALL ME YOURS

a/n: if you would prefer shorter but more chapters, let me know 😊 disclaimer: ai has been used to proofread my writing 🎶 call me yours by lilian helper 🎶 crush by fox gunn 🎶 there's no way by lauv ft. julia michaels

The moment you walked into the living room, you knew two things: first, the cameras were already rolling, and second, you were absolutely and irreversibly screwed.

There are plenty of things to be concerned about when you walked onto the Inside set—being without your phone for a week, tripping on your own feet, being at the mercy of seven of your most shit-starting friends, fumbling your words, or not getting along with the other contestants. But instead, all you could think about was him.

Not the cameras. Not the chaos. Not the loudness of it all. Not Milli and Cinna, who are currently sitting next to you as Cinna speculated who the fuck ordered the golden straw. Just George, standing a few feet away from you, looking completely unbothered. As if nothing happened. As if the two of you didn't just ruin your friendship two nights ago.

It happened after a year of skirting the line: hundreds of inside jokes layered with meanings, countless one-on-one moments that felt far too intimate for 'just friends', lingering glances you hoped no one noticed, and endless excuses to be near each other. Friends constantly asked "will they or won't they?" as they did whatever they could to set something up, push something to happen. Meanwhile, your fans created millions of edits, insisting that it had been secretly happening all along.

But beyond all your friends' efforts and fan speculation, nothing ever happened.

Until two nights ago, alone in his empty flat.

Both of you gave each other the heads up that for the next week, you wouldn't be able to talk due to 'important family trips'—a lie, of course, to cover up being on the show. A week wasn't long, sure, but for you two—seven days felt forever. You hadn't gone more than a single day without at least texting since you met during the Sidemen Talent Show. His roommates were out on the town, and while you were both invited, you opted to spend the night alone—just the two of you. At some point, the shitty television show playing in the background became nothing but noise—forgotten between the shared laughter and stolen glances that lingered longer than they should've. Soon, the silence felt loaded. With one too many glasses of wine, your guard dropped...but it was the way George looked at you, almost as if he was trying not to. You don’t remember exactly how it happened, but he was soon hovering over you. You could feel the warmth of his breath and see the flicker of hesitation in his eyes, like he knew it was a bad idea but wanted it anyway. His hand brushed your jaw, a feather-light touch that sent a jolt down your spine and butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You whispered, "We shouldn't." But you wanted nothing more. "What are we doing?" George mumbled, his eyes now locked on your lips. His voice was low and a little slurred, and for a while, none of you moved. Until you leaned up, and his lips were on yours. The kiss, though soft, was hungry and aching. Like a secret finally breaking free, like a weight being lifted off both your backs. His mouth moved against yours with a year’s worth of restraint unraveling all at once—desperate, tender, and a little clumsy from the wine, but so, so real. Each kiss tasted like everything you’d never let yourself say sober.

"Can the contestants please make their way to the challenge room?" Tobi's voice blasted from the speakers, accompanied by the screen flashing the same message in bold white letters.

Cinna and Milli stood up from beside you, prying themselves off the beanbags you'd all practically melted into. You let out a playful groan, dropping your head back. “I don’t want to go. I know they’re going to be evil,” you whined, making both girls chuckle.

Taking Milli’s outstretched hand, you let her pull you to your feet. As the others started making their way toward the challenge room, you caught George’s gaze lingering on you out of the corner of your eye. He stayed back, letting everyone else pass.

He disguised it as adjusting something on his microphone pack, which only made your chest ache. Him waiting for you wasn’t odd—no one would’ve questioned it. Everyone already knew you two were close before the show. Mandi had even declared the moment you walked in that it was unfair both of you were here, claiming you were “definitely dating,” which would make "doing nothing together too easy." Her theory, of course, was backed by the dozens of TikTok edits she and Milli had watched of you and George together.

You both denied it—laughing it off with an ease that had been practically rehearsed for months. But you silently prayed none of them noticed the flush in your cheeks, the redness in George’s ears, or the way your eyes kept finding each other across the room.

As Cinna and Milli moved ahead, their laughter blending into the buzz of the rest of the group, you hung back. For a second, it felt like it used to—just the two of you; normal, almost. You had to physically restrain yourself from throwing your arms around him and telling him how happy you were that he was here. He licked his lips, and you had to force yourself not to remember how they felt on yours.

"Hey," He said, soft enough that only you could hear.

You swallowed. "Hey."

The silence that followed stretched between you like a tightrope. One wrong word—one mention of that night—and it would snap, sending you both tumbling.

He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flickering to the ground and then back up at you. You noticed how they paused, just briefly, at your lips. "So, uh...how are you finding things so far?"

The conversation already felt...so small. Meaningless.

You forced a smile. "Fine, you?"

He nodded slowly at your words, sheepishly even. "Yeah...just...you know," he shrugged, "ready for the lads to fuck with us." He put on a stupid accent, one that he knows always make you chuckle. And it almost did. Almost.

Silence filled the space again, thick and charged. You stared at each other a little too long, both of you trying to refrain from subconsciously moving closer to each other, as you always have done. George shifted his weight from foot to foot, clearly unsure of what to say next.

His voice dropped down to an even quieter whisper so that no one could hear (as if he didn't have a microphone pack strapped to his chest). "You left before I could wake up. I'm not sure if you wanted to talk about it...or if we can...but I think we definitely should."

You hesitated. Too many words fought to reach your tongue, none of them right. Not here. Not now.

"Yeah, uh, I don't know..." you mumbled, "but we definitely should." Your eyes darted around. Everyone else was already in the challenge room, just two studio managers still tidying up the set.

He nodded again, too quickly this time. "Yeah, yeah, of course. Just, I wanted to let you know that I don't want it to be-"

"Oi! Lovebirds!" JJ poked his head from the challenge room and into the hallway, "Get your asses in here right now! We're waiting on you two!"

George let out a low breath and let out a quick smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Guess that's our cue." He held out his hand for you to take.

You stared at his outstretched hand, your heart thudding in your chest.

For a split second, and against your better judgement, you almost reached for it—almost letting muscle memory win. But instead, you wrapped your arms around yourself and took a small step forward, slipping past him to join the others without another word.

Not a rejection. Not quite. Just...space.

His hand hovered mid-air for a moment longer before dropping back to his side. He didn't say anything, just followed behind you—his eyes trained on the ground.

When you stepped into the challenge room and saw JJ, Simon, and Tobi—JJ in mid-rant about how he was this close to starting without you, you smiled.

Familiar faces. Some sort of normalcy. Even under the far too bright lights, you could pretend that nothing actually happened; that you weren't spiraling and panicking underneath your cool exterior; that George's closeness doesn't mean anything more than usual.

You mumbled an apology as you took your spot next to Milli and Dylan, trying to keep your expression neutral. Out of the corner of your eye, George slid into his place across the room.

Your eyes met once—just once. A flicker. A slient later.

But for now, the cameras were rolling, the game was beginning. And you can't let Tobi, Simon, or JJ have an idea that something was weird between you two. Then you'd never hear the end of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The challenge is Insider Dating," Simon began, clapping his hands together. "You'll each be given two questions that you must answer to our satisfaction. Think of it as a chance to really get to know your fellow Insiders!"

The group let out a chorus of exaggerated awwws, leaning into the bit for the cameras.

"But," Simon added with a mischievous grin, "there will be distractions. You can opt out… but it’ll cost ten grand from the prize money.”

A collective gasp echoed through the room—playful, dramatic.

Tobi jumped in. “We’ve already paired you up. We’ll call your names. When it’s your turn, sit at the table, open the menu, and read what you see.”

As stage managers did a final sweep, double-checking mics and cues, everyone began speculating about what the distractions might be.

“I think we got this,” Dylan assured you, resting his hand on your bouncing knee. “Don’t worry.”

Milli grinned. “Remember, you’re a bad bitch!” You laughed, grateful, until something across the room caught your eye.

Mya leaned in toward George, who seemed to be explaining the rules again. Her hand rested lightly on his bicep, a sly smile on her lips. Your stomach twisted. She was gorgeous. And George? Maybe he’d like her more.

It shouldn’t matter. You and George were just friends who’d… hooked up. No claims. Still, the way she tilted her head toward him, the way he let her—it made your chest feel tight.

You looked away quickly, turning back to Milli. “As long as it’s not snakes, I’m happy.”

Finally, the challenge began.

First up: PK and Cinna—rats crawling over them.

Since entering, Cinna was the person you trusted most. She seemed genuine; serious about the challenge, lovely, and just overall kind. PK, on the other hand, terrified you—loud, outrageous, unpredictable. You worried he’d spend more than he’d earn.

Still, you had to give them credit. They both endured the rats. Neither tapped out.

You looked up—George was watching you. But as your eyes met, he quickly looked away.

Next came Farah and Jason. Though Farah had been rowdy so far, you admired how kind she truly was. When Jason panicked about the nail near his ear, she comforted him, hyping him up.

“This is so fucked up!” Jason screamed, sending the room into laughter. Except George. He had his own bit ready.

“It’s gonna get more fucked up!” he said, slipping into that same ridiculous accent he always used to make you laugh. Everyone cracked up—but you knew that joke was targeted particularly for you. It became clear when George's eyes looked over to see if you were laughing.

His eye contact made you feel small. You sank a little into your seat, hands beginning to fidget.

“Hey,” Dylan whispered, taking off one of his rings. “Here. Fidget with this, if it helps.” You smiled gratefully, twiddling the ring between your fingers.

Dylan and Mandi were up next—"a kiss from a chicken" as their distraction. Dylan admitted what he’d do if he could be invisible; Mandi revealed her first kiss.

“This is our only group of three—a threesome, if you will,” JJ announced with a smirk. “Milli, Mya, and Whitney—please take your seats.”

Shit. That meant you were left with George.

You were pretty sure the realization showed on your face, especially when JJ and Simon winked at you. Tobi’s lack of reaction was more concerning—did he realise something?

“You got this, Milli.” You gave her a smile as she stood.

Creepy spiders crawled across their heads as they answered: Milli’s most embarrassing date story, the most famous person in Mya’s DMs… and then Whitney tapped out. Another $10K lost. Fuck.

Now it was your turn.

Tobi called out yours and George’s names. JJ led the group into a chorus of exaggerated “Ooooohs.”

You forced a laugh, heart pounding as you stood. George met you halfway, giving your hand a quick squeeze. You hadn’t realized how visibly nervous you were—but he had.

Still, he looked away quickly. His expression unreadable.

“Go on, loverbirds!” Jason heckled. The group erupted in laughter. George flipped him off, and you forced a laugh.

You sat across from each other, and today, the table felt too small. George slid his foot between yours—a subtle touch to ground you. This time, you didn’t pull away.

As always, JJ made another joke at your two's expense “This isn’t your first date, so you know what to do.” You rolled your eyes and flipped him off again, earning some more laughter.

"Please open the menus." Simon instructed.

You flipped it open.

SHOCKING QUESTIONS.

“Ladies first,” JJ said, smirking. “So George, you're up.” George nodded in resignation as a technician locked you both into the shock devices.

You look at the questions listed on your menu. "What is your worst online dating experience?"

You’d heard this one before. But instead of listening, your eyes tracked the way he flinched—eyebrows furrowing in pain. Your hand instinctively reached for his, ignoring the group’s collective aww. You squeezed it, silently telling him to hang on. He squeezed back.

“Was that satisfactory?” George muttered, wincing.

Tobi, Simon, and JJ nodded. "Please ask the next question."

Really? You turned to look at the three hosts, who all had a mischievous look in their eye. These bastards.

"Snog, marry, and avoid three Insiders." He's going to say Mya.

George hesitated. "Do I really have to answer this?"

“You can tap out,” JJ taunted, “but we all know what your going to say anyway."

“Can it be any gender?” George asked, trying to stall. A shock hit. He grimaced, then gave in.

“Snog Cinna. Marry you. Avoid Farah.” He turned to Farah. “Sorry—you’re quite loud.”

“Fair,” she shrugged. She had admitted that was her red flag.

Tobi clapped. "Good job, George. It's now your turn to ask the questions."

"Which Insider do you currently trust the least?" George asked hesitantly, his hand now enveloping yours even before the shocks started.

The jolt shot through you. You yelped.

“This is unfair—I've just met them!” you protested. Another shock hit. You squeezed George’s hand tighter.

“You can always back out,” Simon teased, shuffling the cards.

But ten thousand...

Cinna came to your rescue. "It's okay! We won't be offended, right guys?" She got everyone to agree.

“Okay, really, no offense, but—either Whitney or Mandi!” They immediately jumped up, demanding to know why.

“Let me explain!” you pleaded. “It’s obvious one of you got the golden straw, and your denial makes me not trust you. Just admit it—it’s teamwork, so there's no point in being mad. ’Just be honest.” You were rambling, rushing to defuse the tension. “Also—the prices are literally extortionate! Who the fuck charges that much for a straw?” you added.

As the group laughed at your extra comment, the Sidemen motioned that the answer was satisfactory.

“George, just—please ask the next question,” you blurted, voice getting higher as you try and ignore the pain.

He looked down, face flushing red.

“Really?” he asked the Sidemen. They nodded. He berudgingly asked the next question; “Which Insider of the opposite sex would you… uh… be willing to share a bed with?”

“Agh—literally fuck off!” you yelled, jolted by the next shock.

You could answer honestly. Or safely. But the pain—and your instinct—won.

"George." You didn't dare look him in the eye, instead staring at the ceiling. You didn't see George's gaze fixating on the menu, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

"Why?" JJ prodded.

“That’s not part of the question!” George defended for you.

“Uh uh,” Simon tutted. “We decide when the answer’s complete.”

Tobi stayed silent. And that’s when you were sure—he realised something was up.

You didn’t care anymore. “I’ve fallen asleep in planes with him, and on his couch plenty of times.” Even before two nights ago, you've stayed the night countless of times; mostly on his sofa, whether that is side by side on the chaise lounge or on his shoulder.

The Sidemen finally nodded. Accepted.

With the challenge over, the hosts announced how much prize money had been lost. Everyone began to file out—some toward the shop, others back to the living room.

George lingered by the door, waiting for you who stayed behind to playfully punch JJ in the shoulder.

“Hey, can we get you in Room 19 for a confessional?” a producer asked, pulling you aside. “Tobi wants to speak with you too.”

He knew.

You turned to George, his eyes locked on yours. Sorry, you mouthed. Later.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Room 19 was too bright and too quiet .

Tobi was already inside, lounging on the sofa like he hadn’t just summoned you in. He’d asked the camera crew to give you two a minute.

You slid into the sofa beside him, hiding your face in the back of the sofa. "Why do I feel like I'm about to be told off?"

He didn’t answer—just looked at you, like he was waiting for you to crack.

"What?"

He raised an eyebrow, "Something happened."

You shook your head too quickly, too defensively.

Tobi, of all people, wasn’t going to buy that. He knew. He knew. Ever since the YouTuber Pub Quiz—when he’d finally gotten fed up with watching you and George make heart eyes for three hours while being far too close to him. He heard firsthand George calling you snookums and had to physically pull George closer to him in order to protect their answers, especially after George kept gravitating towards you. When Tobi pulled you aside that night, he managed to get you to confirm it, drunk and giggly (fuelled by the alcohol from the night, and the shots you did with George), slurring out your not-so-little crush.

Maybe this was your sign to stop drinking.

“Don’t even deny it,” he said. “You and Clarkey aren’t acting like your usual lovesick selves.”

You rolled your eyes, scowling. “Fine. But you can’t tell any of the boys.”

Tobi mimed zipping his lips and tossing the key. You sighed.

“We slept together.”

His jaw dropped. “And?”

“And… nothing. We haven’t talked about it.” You could see the panic spiral forming in his head. “We were both drunk, and it was two nights before filming. We didn’t know we’d be here together. I kind of… left before he woke up.”

Tobi groaned. “You idiot. You didn’t want it to be awkward, so you made it more awkward.”

“I panicked!”

“For what it’s worth,” he muttered, “that poor sucker looks even more in love with you than before.”

“Tobi, we haven’t even made eye contact.”

“He looked wrecked when you were hurting earlier. That wasn’t acting. And trust me—Clarkey can't act for shit. Trust me, I've seen it."

You snorted. He wasn’t wrong.

There was a long pause. You didn’t say anything more. Not yet.

“They’re gonna call you for a confessional soon,” he said gently. “You good?” You nodded, even though you weren’t sure. Your head was a mess of George. "If you ever need a break, just ask them to go to the smoker's area. And, if you ever need to talk to me, just say so. We can hear everything."

You gave him a grateful smile, and then he was gone. The door shut behind him.

The crew came back in, cameras rolling.

You straightened your shoulders, just enough to fake composure. Although the world as you know it felt shook to its core, you had to pretend it was all fine.

Giving the producer a small nod, you convinced yourself you could do this. You'd done harder things. You just should not mention George, as much as you want to.

Maybe being away from your phone is harder than you thought. You wished you could text your roommate for her advice, although you could already guess what they were. Maybe you just needed the comfort. Maybe you just need George.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The end of the day came around faster than you expected.

With two new faces—Patrice (or “Uncle”, as he insisted) and DDG—the group loosened up again, especially after that tense challenge. Chaos resumed not long after, as people either tried to sneakily snag meal upgrades or tried to stomach the quite...unpleasant dinner prepared.

You wanted to keep track of who was doing what, to have a better idea of who to trust. But George was already on top of it. And right now, you couldn’t trust yourself around George, let alone what you might say if you were alone with him.

So you stuck close to who you could trust so far; Milli, Dylan, Jason,a and Cinna. Luckily, DDG managed to wrangle everyone into a budgeting talk—half serious, half banter—and you nodded along, grateful for the distraction.

Across the room, George finally stopped circling the space, his self-appointed half-joking job of policing the 'ruffians' (his words, not yours) done for the evening. But his gaze kept drifting. Back to you.

His eyes were pleading.

You could tell he wanted to talk. Needed to talk. About that night.

And you knew you should.

And part of you really, really wanted to.

But you were scared.

With a week still ahead of you—and cameras in every corner—this wasn’t the time.

Not quite yet.

Not quite here.

So you laughed a little louder with Dylan, leaned a little closer to Milli, and pulled Cinna deeper into the conversation.

Maybe you could avoid him for seven more days.

Maybe by then, you’d know what to say.

Maybe, in the real world, without all these cameras, this would feel less messy.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

taglist: @rubyskies

[blairxbear]

How they handle jealousy and would react to someone flirting with you...

UA Part 1 / UA Part 2 / Pro Heroes / Villains

How will the guys at UA react handle their jealousy and react to someone else flirting with you?

Featuring: Izuku Midoriya, Shoto Todoroki, Tenya Ida, Denki Kaminari, Mirio Togata, Hanta Sero, Koji Koda, Mashirao Ojiro

Izuku Midoriya

Jealousy Level: 7/10 – Insecure but tries to be rational.

Izuku isn’t the type to get openly aggressive, but oh boy, does his brain spiral when someone flirts with you.

He tries to act chill, but his muttering goes into overdrive.

“They’re just being friendly… right? But what if they’re not? What if Y/N likes them more? What if I—”

He’ll subtly step closer, offering you a nervous smile, placing a gentle hand on your lower back to remind you he’s there.

If the flirting gets too bold, he stammers out a polite but firm response:

“Uh—e-excuse me, but… Y/N’s actually with me.”

Afterward, he’s extra clingy, peppering your face with little kisses, mumbling:

“You wouldn’t… actually leave me for them, right?”

Shoto Todoroki

Jealousy Level: 6/10 – Calm but subtly possessive.

Shoto isn’t the type to panic, but he definitely doesn’t like someone flirting with you.

He just stares, unblinking, expression unreadable.

He’s too logical to lash out, but he will step closer, brush his fingers against yours, or lightly grip your wrist.

If the flirting gets too much, he’ll speak calmly but coldly:

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t speak to Y/N like that.”

The intimidation factor is strong—the flirter usually backs off immediately.

Later, in private, he’ll hold you close, his forehead pressed against yours, murmuring:

“Tell me if I have anything to worry about.”

Tenya Ida

Jealousy Level: 8/10 – Respectful but visibly irritated.

Tenya tries to be mature and logical, but he’s not subtle when he’s jealous.

His hand gestures become more frantic, and his brows furrow so hard he looks like he’s trying to solve an impossible equation.

He’ll interrupt the conversation if someone flirts with you, pushing his glasses up aggressively:

“I believe you are overstepping boundaries. Kindly leave Y/N alone.”

He becomes extra protective after, walking closer than usual, making sure you don’t stray too far from his side.

If you tease him about it, he crosses his arms, blushing furiously:

“I was simply ensuring your comfort! It was—It was my duty as your boyfriend!”

Denki Kaminari

Jealousy Level: 9/10 – Pouty, clingy, but still playful.

Oh, Denki notices immediately, and he’s not afraid to make a scene.

He starts by laughing it off, but if the flirter keeps pushing, his eye twitches.

His default response? Wrap his arms around you dramatically and whine:

“Babe, tell them you’re mine~! You wouldn’t cheat on little ol’ me, right?”

If the flirter doesn’t back off, he’ll drop the goofy act and get serious.

“Hey. Back off. They’re not interested.”

He’s extra touchy after, holding your hand, kissing your cheek, and texting you cute messages even if you’re right next to him.

Mirio Togata

Jealousy Level: 4/10 – Confident, but a little protective.

Mirio is SO secure in your relationship that he doesn’t get jealous easily.

At first, he just smiles and lets you handle it, because he trusts you.

But if the flirter pushes too hard, he’ll swoop in, slinging an arm over your shoulders, grinning brightly but with an undeniable edge to his voice.

“Wow! Bold of you to flirt with my S/O right in front of me! That takes guts!”

His presence alone is enough to scare them off.

He’ll tease you later, grinning cheekily:

“Guess I should step up my flirting game, huh?”

Hanta Sero

Jealousy Level: 5/10 – Casual but sneaky with his possessiveness.

Sero doesn’t panic when someone flirts with you—he just finds creative ways to shut it down.

The moment he notices, he’ll casually wrap an arm around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Hey babe, we were gonna grab food, right?”

He won’t make a scene, but he’ll throw subtle shade at the flirter:

“Oh, you’re still here? That’s cute.”

Afterward, he’s extra flirty with you, whispering things like:

“You know you’re stuck with me forever, right?”

Koji Koda

Jealousy Level: 3/10 – Too sweet to be openly jealous, but definitely uneasy.

Koji is not confrontational at all, but he gets visibly uncomfortable if someone flirts with you.

He’ll fidget with his hands, glance at you nervously, and shift closer without saying a word.

If the flirting goes too far, he’ll gently take your hand, looking at you like a sad puppy.

His animals sense his distress and might even interrupt—birds suddenly chirping loudly, or a rabbit hopping into his arms for comfort.

Afterward, he’ll apologize for not stepping in sooner, but you reassure him, and he gives you a big, relieved hug.

Mashirao Ojiro

Jealousy Level: 6/10 – Not aggressive, but subtly dominant.

Ojiro is mature and level-headed, but he’s not above getting protective.

The moment someone flirts with you, his tail flicks sharply, his jaw clenches, and he straightens his posture.

He doesn’t need big words—his presence alone sends a message.

If the flirter doesn’t back off, he’ll step in politely but firmly:

“I think you’re misunderstanding something. Y/N’s with me.”

Afterward, he doesn’t say much—just pulls you into his arms, resting his chin on your head, needing that quiet reassurance.

Later, he teases you playfully, flicking his tail around you:

“Guess I’ll just have to keep you closer next time.”

Ko-fi / Masterlist

blairxbear © 2024. do not copy, modify, or translate my work. you do not have permission to share my work outside of tumblr!

[clockwayswrites]

Danny in Metropolis part 4

oh look, gave in, masterpost

by HH discord vote, wrote on this while waiting for my nerve test today (good news, nerves good. bad news, hands bad because ?????. other news, OW) which was nice because this is very soft and I was very nervous about it all. Apparently I had another chunk not posted here too so have a decent bit!

-

“Yeah, well, you just met—saw? You just saw my parents. They’re just sort of like that. Everything always becomes dramatic,” Danny said, some of his humor fading as he talked about his family.

“I’ll remember not to come over for dinner,” Conner said with a purposefully light tone.

Danny snorted. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t subject you to that horror. Easier to just eat out anyways.”

“And yet you don’t eat lunch,” Conner pointed out.

Danny ducked his head and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, school lunches aren’t exactly appetizing.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Conner agreed after a beat. Him and Dad might still have some issues that they were working through, but Clark made sure that Conner always had a lunch to take to school, no matter how busy he was with a story. The only times there wasn’t a lunch is when Clark was off world for three or more days.

Conner wondered if Dad would mind making an extra one.

“Anything you hate?” Conner asked curiously.

Danny gave a little shrug. His fingers twisted restlessly against Conner’s. “That’s a complicated question.”

“I’m okay with complicated answers.”

“Turkey and chicken, but only if it’s the whole bird. Hot dogs. I guess all meat can be iffy a lot, depends on the day. Tofu. Um, plain broths and Jello at this point. Anything fake cherry favored. Lime Gatorade,” Danny listed off in a rush.

Conner blinked. “Okay.” He’d do his best to remember that.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Like, I think that’s actually not that hard to work around. And you can remind me if I forget anything, but, like, I’ll try not to,” Conner said. He gave Danny’s hand a reassuring little squeeze.

Danny stared down at their clasped hands like it was the most confusing thing.

Conner tried not to worry too much about it. Danny could be odd like that.

The shop was actually a pretty nice one. Maybe it was a little too hipster, but it was a coffee shop. The music could be worse and the spray painted art on the wall was actually pretty cool. There was no one waiting, so Conner pulled them up to the front where they could easily read the menu to make their choices.

He nudged Danny gently with his elbow. “They have some vegetarian stuff, if it’s one of those days.”

“The beetroot sandwich is damn good,” the heavily tattooed barista who was waiting on them said.

“Yeah?” Danny said, looking over that on the board. “I’ll do that, I guess, and a large iced coffee.”

“Whole milk, skim, or oat milk?”

“Oh, um, whole is fine,” Danny said.

“Same drink for me, but I’ll do the avocado BLT,” Conner decided. He went to pull out his phone to pay, but Danny beat him to it, holding out a credit card.

“My treat, since we couldn’t work at my place,” Danny said quickly.

Conner huffed. “Fine. But next study session is my treat then.”

“You two can go ahead and have a seat, I’ll bring your stuff over soon,” the barista said with a smile as they handed back Danny’s card.

Conner followed Danny’s lead over to a comfortable looking pair of armchairs around a low table. They were forced to finally let go of each other’s hands to sit, and Conner tried not to pout. Now that he knew Danny would let him, Conner figured he could find another excuse to hold Danny’s hand if he worked at it.

Danny pulled out his sleek, new laptop and set it open on the table. The assignment was already open on the screen, glaring in the large, red text that Mrs. Simmons liked to use for all of her assignment headers. It was especially bold on the black background of the dark mode that Danny seemed to keep everything in.

Under every poet’s name, Danny had typed a sentence or two about them. It was far from academic writing (some of it was actually hilariously blunt), but it actually had some really useful information.

“Damn, Danny, you call this only a little?” Conner asked as he scanned over the notes.

Danny fidgeted in his seat. “I mean. Just like I said, I'm not good at English work and I don't want to be why you get a bad grade.”

“Hey,” Conner leaned over and bumped their shoulders together, “it's just a grade.”

“Yeah, try saying that in my house with two doctorate already and a third on the way with my sister,” Danny muttered.

“Well, good thing we aren't in your house then,” Conner joked. When Danny rolled his eyes, Conner reached out and tapped Danny’s hand, getting the other to look at him. “It’s just a grade, Danny, but I'll do my best to make sure that it's a good one, okay?”

Danny’s smile was a little wobbly, but at least it was there. “Thanks.”

“Course. Tell me what you've done so far.”

His smile turned shier, but Danny started to explain that he’d wiki searched the poets and also scanned whatever there most famous poem was. He didn’t really know how to talk about the poems, but tried to write a word or two about them. As they went through the list, it was clear that Danny already had some he didn’t like, by the way his nose wrinkled as he talked about them, scrunching up his freckles. He also had some good points about some poets that they shouldn’t do as two white guys. Conner didn’t know if he actually really counted as a white guy, not with Clark, but he figured since socially Clark was seen and raise as one, it fit as much as anything.

(Not like Conner could talk about the whole half alien clone thing anyways.)

[the-oblivious-writer]

A Loving Distraction

Wednesday Addams x Reader

One-shot

Summary: Wednesday attempts what’s meant to be a study session, but being the distraction you are, you had other plans in mind.

Warning(s): kissing, established relationship, and no pronouns

Notes: dedicated to @101rizzlrr - ask and I shall deliver

You stare at your phone, thumb hovering over the text you're about to send to Wednesday. The message reads: "Meet me in the library? Promise to actually study this time."

The memory of your last "study session" brings a smile to your face. You'd spent more time debating the merits of different torture methods throughout history than actually reviewing for finals. Not that you minded - Wednesday's passionate defense of the rack over the iron maiden had been oddly endearing.

Your phone buzzes with her reply: "Bold of you to imply I was the distraction last time. But fine. West wing, third floor. Don't be late."

Twenty minutes later, you're climbing the worn stone steps of Nevermore Academy's library. The afternoon light filters through the Gothic windows, casting long shadows across the floor. You spot Wednesday at her usual table, surrounded by a fortress of leather-bound books. She's wearing her signature black dress, white collar crisp and perfect despite the late hour.

"You're four minutes late," she says without looking up from her notes.

"I brought a peace offering." You place a steaming cup of black coffee - no sugar, no cream - next to her elbow. "And I was delayed by Principal Weems giving her weekly lecture about proper uniform length to some poor first year."

"Excuses." But she takes the coffee, and you catch the slight softening around her eyes that passes for a smile in Wednesday's world. "I assume you're here because you're still struggling with Advanced Poisons?"

You slide into the chair across from her, pulling out your own textbook. "Some of us didn't grow up taste-testing deadly nightshade."

"Your loss. Mother always said it builds character." She reaches for your notebook, scanning your latest attempts at categorizing toxic fungi. "Your classification system is almost painfully wrong. Look at this - you've put death caps under 'slow-acting.' They can kill within 48 hours."

"Not everyone shares your enthusiasm for mortality rates," you tease, leaning closer to see where she's marking corrections in precise red ink. Her hair smells faintly of rain and graveyard dirt - a scent you've come to associate with comfort, oddly enough.

"Clearly. Which is why you need my help." She pauses, dark eyes flickering to yours. "Though I suppose there are worse ways to spend an afternoon than ensuring you don't accidentally poison yourself with basic mushroom identification."

"Aw, you do care."

"Don't be ridiculous." But her knee bumps yours under the table, and stays there.

The next hour passes in a comfortable rhythm of studying and bickering. Wednesday corrects your work with cutting efficiency, while you try to distract her by suggesting increasingly outlandish uses for non-lethal poisons. ("Think about it - just enough to make the entire school board mildly nauseated during budget meetings.")

"Focus," she chides, but there's amusement lurking in her voice. "Unless you want to explain to your parents why you failed this semester."

"They'd understand. I'd just tell them I was distracted by my brilliant, beautiful girlfriend who happens to be a walking encyclopedia of death."

"Flattery will get you nowhere." She turns a page with deliberate precision. "And that's not even close to my most impressive quality."

You lean forward, resting your chin on your hand. "Oh? Do tell."

"I can name at least fifteen ways to incapacitate someone with items found in this library alone." Her eyes meet yours, challenging. "Would you like a demonstration?"

"Tempting, but I think the librarian is still mad about last time." You reach across the table, fingers brushing her wrist. "Besides, I can think of better uses for our time."

Wednesday arches an eyebrow. "Can you now?"

The tension shifts, electric and familiar. You stand slowly, walking around the table until you're beside her chair. She turns to face you, expression unreadable but for the slight catch in her breath when you lean down.

"Much better uses," you murmur, and then you're kissing her. Her lips are cool against yours, tasting of coffee and secrets. One of her hands finds its way to your collar, pulling you closer with that controlled intensity that is so uniquely Wednesday.

You break apart at the sound of footsteps approaching, though you don't go far. Wednesday's normally pale cheeks have the faintest hint of color, and you can't help feeling a bit smug about that.

"That was…" she starts.

"Distracting?" you offer with a grin.

"Entirely inappropriate for a study session." But she's fighting a smile now, the real kind that makes her look almost human. "We have an exam tomorrow."

"True." You brush a strand of dark hair from her face. "But I'd argue that was an excellent practical demonstration of biological responses to stimuli."

Wednesday rolls her eyes, but she's definitely smiling now. "Your scientific method needs work."

"Then I suppose we'll need more practice." You gesture to the towering shelves around you. "We have the whole library."

"You're impossible." She stands, gathering her books with precise movements. "Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"To find somewhere more private for your… research." She gives you a look that makes your heart skip. "Unless you'd rather stay here and actually study?"

You grab your bag, already following her toward the stacks. "Lead the way."

-----------

A/N: nice little one-shot before I post more angst

[nogutsnogloria]

summary: lena has a dance recital and pope needs your help. feelings can’t be pushed down any longer.

andrew pope cody x reader

a/n: i was working on some of the requests in my inbox when i got distracted (sowwy) this is a continuation of what i am calling pope x lena’s favorite. i don’t necessarily think this is a chapter situation mainly because i suck at chapters. i write ideas as they come and inspire.

pope was screwed in a major way. lena’s dance class just came home with a set of mandatory steps needed to be taken for recital hair and makeup. staring back at him in big bold letters. do not deviate this is a non negotiable for all recitals your dancer will not perform if standards are not met. you had shown him the basics in order to keep it out of her face at class but now this looked way more complicated and he has no idea where to start. well technically he does: with an SOS text to you.

you message back with ???? i can be there in 10 minutes. he replies with a picture the piece of paper that contains the stupid rules. he’s never liked following rules. his own rule was no rules except when it came to lena, and maybe you now if he thought about it hard enough.

either you’ve missed the part entirely of his SOS text or you’re messing with him because you reply back omg andrew a recital, that’s going to be too cute! can i buy a ticket to go? he’s shaking his head with a small smile. i already have your ticket, lena made sure of that. but she won’t be dancing if i’m in charge of her hair and makeup this is why i need you. apparently she needs someone backstage to do this hair and makeup pre-show and for my sake and hers can you please help, it’s either you or one of the moms who hate me, or worse… smurf. there is a clear number one choice for me and lena.

he watches your three little dots signalling that your responding back and he finds himself holding his breath because this feels like a big ask of you to be his dependent’s special person when you two aren’t even dating. of course i can help! you can let the studio know that i will be lena’s stage hand. he releases the breath he was holding. i owe you.

the day of the recital came up quickly on you. you find yourself rushing to pope’s house with all the supplies needed to make sure lena is the cutest dust bunny any production of snow white has ever seen. hairbrush, gel, elastics, bobby pins. little clips to hold lena’s bunny ears on her head. the standard red lipstick and a good eyeliner to put whiskers on her face, exactly as the studio deemed necessary for the show. you’ll do her makeup backstage but you’re heading over to their house early so you can do her hair. not bothering with a knock you open the sliding glass door and smell the pancake breakfast being made. “smells good in here.” you take a seat next to lena at the table. “big day calls for a big breakfast” pope places a plate in-front of you and takes a seat on lena’s other side his own plate in front of him. you all eat with easy conversations between the three of you talking about events the big and the mundane since you all saw each other last.

you glance at the time. “i should get started on your hair while you finish breakfast. is that okay lena?” she nods and you get to work. the studio wants two french braids into a bun. you start by gently brushing out the tangles. pope excuses himself to make a call while you work. he’s on the phone watching through the glass door, because he can’t help himself. lena is chatting about something to you animatedly you are keeping the conversation going but you have your brows knitted in concentration on lena’s hair. you say something to lena that has her looking up at you and the both of you laughing. the sight is enough to make his heart burst but its the sound that can be heard through the little crack in the sliding glass door makes his knees buckle a bit. you’re also being so gentle. his only memory of smurf doing julia’s hair was it always seemed so rough and almost painful, lena looks pretty much relaxed as you are pinning her bun into place.

you tell lena she’s all good to go and tell her to change into her leotard and tights. she skips down the hall and you’re starting to clean the dishes. that makes pope wrap up his phone call. “hey deran i gotta go. see you at the recital.” he hangs up and goes back inside. “you’ve already helped enough today and you’re not even halfway through.” he pours you a cup of coffee. “go sit down, relax for a few before we have to head to the theatre” you roll your eyes playfully at him and sit at the island. “you’re kinda bossy, has anyone ever told you that?” he smiles at you and continues with the dishes.

it’s time to leave so that you arrive backstage on time. pope opens the passenger side door to the truck for you to get in before he is getting lena situated in her car seat in the back. he hops into his side and starts the car on its way to the local theatre. “lena are you getting excited?” you turn back to look at her. “i’m scared” you look at pope who has sported a new frown at lena’s admission. you turn back reaching your hand out for her to take. “its okay to be nervous. it’s a big new thing that you’re doing today. preforming in-front of a crowd can be scary sometimes, but you’ve practiced so hard at dance class. and me and uncle pope are so excited to watch you, all your friends are dancing right next to you, how fun is that? i love dancing with my friends” pope is in awe at how you were just able to completely validate lena’s feelings, without telling her she has no reason to be scared, like it’s regular conversation for you. you make it seem so easy. “plus i think uncle pope said we can go for ice cream after to celebrate.” he absolutely did not say this but who is he to say no to you, or lena for that matter, especially when you’re giving him the playful smile that he suspects you somehow have figured out is an automatic yes from him to anything you say. plus that information seemed to change lena’s mind. “okay yeah i am excited to dance.”

you arrive at the theatre and get out of the truck. this is where you have to leave pope to go with lena backstage, he hands you your ticket. “i will save your seat for you.” you nod and grab lena’s hand and head towards the dressing rooms.

in the dressing room you feel so out of place next to all the rich dance moms, walking around like they belong back here. but you try and hide your insecurities from lena, instead focusing on getting her ready. you help her get her costume on. you clip her bunny ears to her head and secure everything with a bit more hairspray. next you move on to the whiskers making sure that you’re putting all your perfectionist tendencies to good use for once. the lipstick is next, you don’t glob it on like the other girls’ moms have. just lightly putting enough on so it doesn’t bother lena or get everywhere. “i don’t like it when i can feel my lipstick stuck on my lips” you tell her as you apply. finally you are helping her put on her ballet slippers, the last step before the dance teacher will take over and you can escape the dressing room and go running back to andrew.

the dance teacher comes in and is taking a look at all of the girls to make sure everyone is presentable. she’s eyeing lena up and down which causes a pit to form in your stomach wondering if you’ve messed something up for her. the dance teacher speaks up “everyone listen up, if your little dancer does not look like miss lena then fix whatever you have done incorrectly” she’s pointing towards lena to show off your work which makes you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. lena beams at you and gives you a hug. you crouch down to look her in the eye and hold her hands. “i have to go find my seat, but remember uncle pope and i are so proud of you and we know you’re going to do so good. we will be in the lobby waiting for you when the show is all done okay?” lena nods and the dance teacher comes to wrangle all the girls to get them show ready, you sneak out of the dressing room.

you stop at the vendor selling flowers in the lobby and buy a bouquet to give lena after the show and look at your ticket to find your seat. you head to the area you see andrew sitting beside his family and your suddenly feeling out of place again like you’re intruding on a family event, but you push it down and go to your seat. you slide into the one beside andrew, his hand brushing your lower back as you pass by him to your seat. you pretend like that didn’t do something to make you wish his hands were on you more often. he’s looking down into your eyes with a smile. “flowers? where did you find those?” you look down at the bouquet. “in the lobby but he was closing up i had to sweet talk my way into this these” he smiles at you. “yeah i bet you did, well now you’re going to make me look bad with nothing for lena.” without hesitation you hand him the bouquet. “give her these ones, they will be more special coming from you.” he’s wondering what you mean by that, you could have brought lena a rock and she would be talking about how special it was for days because it came from you. “you paid for them, i can’t take them” your thrusting them towards his hands “you paid for my ticket. think of it as a trade” you drive him crazy by never letting him pay for anything. “well you got all that stuff to put in her hair” you look at him with your sparkly eyes and he knows he’s lost this little argument before you even open your mouth to respond. “i bought those things with the cash that i randomly found in my wallet. it appeared out of nowhere like a reverse robbery” he knows that you know it was him but you let him have that little win. he’s biting back a smile ready to keep this little playful thing going when the lights dim signalling the show is about to begin.

the show starts and pope can’t keep his eyes off you from the corner of his eye. you are so supportive of all the dancers and he watches you melt at the little toddlers running around, and it melts him a little. especially when he looks past you and sees his and lena’s actual family not even hiding the fact that they’d rather be anywhere but here. when lena’s class is finally on, its your turn to take a peak at pope watching lena dance. you aren’t disappointed when you do watching him watch her with a proud pride that makes you smile as you turn back your face mirrors him watching lena dance around the stage with a big smile.

once the recital is all done you head to the lobby with andrew’s family and wait for lena to come out. pope suddenly feeling protective of you, and your too good for his world watching smurf’s eyes look at you up and down. he walks over to you to block you from her line of sight. you don’t have to wait much longer for lena to come bounding over still in costume, pope scoops her up in his arms and the family surrounds her now turning it on like they actually cared to spend their afternoon watching the recital. lena has had enough of them so she’s wiggling out of pope’s arms to go running over to you. you pick her up in a hug and feel her give you one back. “lena that was so good, did you have fun?” you feel her nod against you. “so much fun. thank you for coming and helping me. look at the flowers uncle pope got me” she’s proudly holding the flowers up to you. “those are so pretty. we better get going so that we can get them in some water.” your looking up at pope hopefully conveying with silent eye contact that you have given them an out. “yeah we better get going it’s been a long day here for us, thanks for showing up” with that he leads the way back to his truck, lena still in your arms chatting to you about what happened backstage after you left her. pope gently grabs her out of your arms so he can buckle her into her car seat. “uncle pope are we still stopping for ice cream?” he looks at you in the front seat trying to hide a smile and then back at lena who’s looking up at him waiting for his answer. “of course we are, we’re celebrating an amazing performance”

he stops at the little spot close to the house and lets you and lena order. he doesn’t get anything and you roll your eyes at him calling him boring which makes him huff a laugh as he goes to pay. lena has grabbed your hand and pulled you out the door so you can’t protest to him about it. the shop worker hands back the change saying “you have a beautiful family.” he turns back to look at you and lena, she’s still in her dance costume, your swinging her hand in yours around and she’s smiling and giggling at whatever you just said. he nods at the worker in thanks and leaves the shop to join you and lena on the bench that you found where you enjoy your ice cream and the company.

you’re finally all home from the big outing. well back to pope and lena’s so you can collect your things that you left there, and go home. pope cannot stop thinking about what the ice cream shop worker had to say and how bad he wanted it to be true, how that if it was then you wouldn’t be leaving again to go to your own place.

“hey i was thinking about ordering pizza for dinner, you should stay. lena would probably like your help better taking that hair down” you don’t even look up from your bag where you’re making sure you have everything. “oh are you sure? you already fed me pancakes and ice cream today i’m going to start feeling like a bit of a free loader.”

he looks down at you and what he really wants to do is shake your shoulders so that you understand what he says next, instead he grabs one of your wrists so that you stop what your doing to look at him. “all the things you do for lena without batting an eye, all the things you do for me, you are the opposite of a free loader in this house. okay?” his eyes are so intense when you look into them and your skin is tingling on your wrist where his hand is wrapped around you don’t even know how to answer him, how to tell him that you would do everything all over again in a heartbeat because even though this whole thing started with just wanting to make sure lena was taken care of, it has selfishly turned into excuses to see him too. you settle with a nod of acceptance and a “sure i will stay for pizza” he lets go of your wrist to go order. you stay to eat pizza and help pope to finally coax lena out of her costume and into her pajamas so that she can go to bed. you’re with her in the bathroom taking out all the bobby pins out of the bun leaving the two braids in her hair on her request. next you’re helping her gently wash off the makeup and leave her to brush her teeth. “hey i’m going to put her to bed but do you want to stay for a beer after?” you nod at his offer. “sure”

your sitting on the couch when you hear lena’s door softly close for the night. pope heads to the fridge and pulls out two bottles and opens them bringing them back to the couch. you take one and turn to face him. “the lady at the ice cream shop said something interesting to me today.” here goes nothing pope thinks. you take a sip of your beer. “oh yeah?” he leans in a bit closer. “yeah told me i had a beautiful family after you and lena went outside” he’s eyeing you for a reaction, you give him an adorable one without realizing of your eyes going wide in shock like maybe you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t. reminds him of the night he met you lena’s bedroom at smurf’s with your tiara on. “i, oh, uh what did you tell her?” you stammer out. “nothing, i didn’t correct her. just thanked her and went out to join you two.” you can’t think of anything to say so you just stare into pope’s eyes. you start with an “andrew i-“ and he cuts you off before you say something. “i think i didn’t correct her because i wanted it to be true, it made me realize that i haven’t made a move because if i mess this up im not just messing it up for me, but also for lena. you are the best thing that could have possibly happened to us coming into our lives when you did.” you look at him with glassy eyes, and he speaks again. “i would really like to try with you if that was something you’d want” you grab his hand and answer with a simple “yes” that makes him smile at you “yeah?” you’re smiling back and nodding still holding his hand. “you have to do it proper though i’m not just going to kiss you tonight because we shared our feelings that we’ve both had for a while.” you admit to him that you feel the same way. “you have to wine and dine me even if we are doing things a little backwards.” he laughs at how cute you are. “how about next friday night? i get a sitter and i take you out?” you smile and look up at him through your eyelashes. “yes please.”

[svtimagination]

the stranger in my phone | jeon jungkook | eyes in the dark series

✦ Pairing: Jeon Jungkook × Female Reader ✦ Genre: Dark Angst, Fluff, Smut (18+) ✦ AUs: Stalker AU, Obsession AU, Hidden Identity, Texting Stranger → Dark Romance ✦ Chapter Warnings: Stalking, Harassment, Abduction, Aggression, Psychological Manipulation, Blood Mentions, Possessiveness, Non-consensual Undertones, Forced Intimacy, Obsessive Love, Trauma, Mental Instability ✦ Word Count: 3.1K ✦ Summary: A drunken text to a stranger draws Y/N into a flirty, thrilling exchange—unaware that the charming man on the other end is already watching her from the shadows.

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The bar hummed with life — the music low but steady, the clink of glasses blending with the sound of carefree laughter. The air smelled of liquor and a hint of mischief as you leaned back into the worn leather seat, your head just a little too light, your cheeks warm from the alcohol.

"Truth or dare, Y/N?" your friend teased, her voice lilting with the unmistakable glee of someone who'd had one too many drinks.

You grinned, biting your lower lip. "Dare."

A collective "ooooh" echoed around the table, your friends exchanging mischievous glances. That was your first mistake.

"Text a random number and flirt with them," one of your friends declared, a wicked smirk spreading across her face.

Your eyes widened, but the alcohol buzzing in your system made you bold. "Easy," you slurred with a laugh, unlocking your phone and randomly typing in a string of digits. No thought, no hesitation. Just reckless fun.

You: Hey there, handsome… are you this hot, or is it just the alcohol talking?

Your friends roared with laughter as you hit send. The screen blurred slightly before your eyes, but you kept going, spamming the number with playful, flirty texts.

You: I bet you look like a Greek god. Or maybe you're just a nerd in glasses… But hey, I like nerds.

Minutes passed. You were already moving on to another round of shots when your phone vibrated — once, then twice.

Unknown Number: Are you always this bold, or is it just the alcohol talking?

Your jaw dropped. "He replied!" you blurted, shoving the phone in your friends' faces. They cheered. "Ask him his name!" one of them giggled.

Your fingers moved quickly.

You: And who do I have the pleasure of drunkenly seducing tonight?

A pause.

Unknown Number: Jeon Jungkook.

The name made you blink. "Jeon Jungkook?" you muttered aloud. "Sounds… fancy." Your friends howled. "Maybe he's a CEO or something," one teased.

You shook your head, amused.

You: Ohhh, a full name? Classy. Let me guess — you're some hotshot businessman sitting in a glass office right now, counting your millions?

A longer pause this time. Your heart thudded lightly in your chest, the alcohol heightening every emotion.

Jungkook: Something like that.

You bit your lip. His responses were smooth, confident, but not pushy. It was… fun.

You: Well, Mr. Jeon, hope I'm not distracting you from making your next billion.

Jungkook: Trust me, sweetheart. You have all of my attention.

The words made your stomach flip — a dangerous mix of drunken courage and the thrill of talking to a stranger who seemed both charming and… intense.

What you didn't know was that Jeon Jungkook wasn't just some random businessman.

He was your stalker. And tonight, you had unknowingly handed him the perfect excuse to slip further into your life — all because of a silly, drunken dare.

-JEON JUNGKOOK POV-

The city glittered beneath the towering glass windows of my office, a perfect blend of cold steel and distant lights. Papers were scattered across my desk — contracts worth millions, deals that would make or break lesser men — but my mind was only half on the numbers. It always was these days.

The other half of me was… elsewhere. With her.

My Marionette.

The phone beside me buzzed, a single sharp ding slicing through the silence. I didn't expect a message — not at this hour — but when I glanced at the screen and saw the unfamiliar string of digits, a smirk tugged at the corner of my lips.

Her. My Y/N. My marionette I give her this name

I knew her number by heart — I'd memorized it long ago — but seeing her text me without realizing who I was? It was almost too perfect.

Marionette: Hey there, handsome… are you this hot, or is it just the alcohol talking?

The boldness of her words made me chuckle, a low sound that echoed in the empty office. Was she drunk? Probably. She only ever let her guard down when she thought no one was watching.

But I was always watching. Fingers steady, I let the moment simmer before replying.

Me: Are you always this bold, or is it just the alcohol talking?

Her response was quick — playful, teasing — her usual sharpness dulled by liquor, but the fire in her personality still sparked through the screen. I liked her like this. Vulnerable. Open. Unaware that she was texting the very man who watched her from the shadows.

She asked for my name.

Me: Jeon Jungkook.

I didn't lie — there was no need. My name meant nothing to her, not yet. To her, I was just a random businessman on the other end of a dare.

Marionette: Ohhh, a full name? Classy. Let me guess — you're some hotshot businessman sitting in a glass office right now, counting your millions?

If only she knew. I leaned back in my chair, my thumb brushing the edge of the phone as I stared at her message. She was teasing, playing, unaware that her every move — every smile, every drunken text — was threading deeper into the web I'd spun around her.

She wasn't just texting a random man tonight. She was texting the one pulling her strings.

My Marionette.

Me: Trust me, sweetheart. You have all of my attention.

Because she did. Always.

Her reply came almost instantly.

Marionette: Oof, smooth talker alert. I bet you say that to all the girls, Mr. Jeon.

I chuckled softly, the sound reverberating through the silent office. She thought this was a game — a harmless, drunken exchange with a stranger.

If only she knew how long I'd been watching her, how many times I'd crafted scenarios like this in my head. Tonight, luck had simply handed me the perfect excuse to slip into her life without suspicion.

She chose me. Or at least, she thought she did. My Marionette had unknowingly tangled herself deeper into the strings I held.

Me: I don't talk to just any girl, Y/N.

I imagined her reaction — the way her lips would part slightly in surprise, wondering how I knew her name. She hadn't given it to me yet, and I didn't plan to explain how I knew. I wanted to see if she'd question it — if her gut would whisper that something was wrong.

Seconds ticked by. My fingers drummed against the dark wood of my desk, anticipation simmering in my chest.

Then — three dots appeared. She was typing.

Marionette: Wait… did I tell you my name?

Smart girl. But drunk. Vulnerable.

Me: It showed up with your number.

A lie — effortless, smooth. She wouldn't question it, not when she was tipsy and playing a silly dare. The perfect alibi. Her response came slower this time, and I imagined her biting her bottom lip, trying to piece together whether or not she'd slipped up.

Marionette: Weird… but okay. Guess you have me at a disadvantage now, Mr. Jeon.

My tongue ran along the inside of my cheek, my jaw tightening at her words. Disadvantage? If only she knew just how deep that disadvantage ran.

I knew where she lived. What time she left for class every morning. The café she liked to study at. The perfume she wore — soft and sweet, like vanilla and a hint of jasmine. The way she smiled when she thought no one was looking.

She wasn't at a disadvantage. She was utterly, completely in my grasp — and the best part? She had no idea.

Me: I like having the upper hand, Y/N. Don't worry — I'll be gentle.

The words hung between us — a playful threat masked as a flirtation.

Would she catch it? Would her heart stutter in her chest the way mine did every time I thought of her — every time I saw her through the lens of my carefully hidden obsession?

Another pause. Then…

Marionette: Gosh… you're good at this. Are you sure you're not secretly a heartbreaker?

I smiled.

Oh, sweetheart. I wasn't here to break your heart. I was here to own it.

The seconds stretched between her last message and my next move. I could almost picture her now — sitting in that dimly lit bar, a half-empty glass clutched between her fingers, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the attention of a so-called stranger.

A soft smile playing at her lips as she waited for my reply, completely unaware she was toying with the man who had already mapped every inch of her life.

She didn't even realize the spider she was flirting with was the one who had been weaving her into his web for months.

My Marionette.

The phone buzzed again.

Marionette: So you're sure you're not drunk too? Because I swear, no sober man flirts this good.

I let out a low chuckle, running my thumb over my bottom lip as I leaned back in my chair. The city lights reflected off the glass walls of my office, the stark contrast between my world and hers glaringly obvious. She was there — carefree, drunk, laughing with her friends.

And I was here — cold, calculating, yet sickeningly infatuated with the girl on the other end of the phone.

Me: Not drunk, sweetheart. Just interested.

Simple. Friendly. A lie wrapped in a golden bow.

Because my interest wasn't the fleeting kind she thought it was — the kind of attention that burned fast and faded faster. No, my obsession was a slow, simmering ache. A carefully curated madness.

She had no idea that I knew she preferred red wine over cocktails. That I knew which sweater she wore when it rained.

That I'd watched her through the café window for hours as she studied, chewing the tip of her pen when she got stuck.

To her, I was a random number. A stranger. To me, she was everything.

The three dots appeared again. My jaw clenched — not out of frustration, but anticipation. Every text from her was like gasoline on the fire already raging inside me.

Marionette: Interested? What's a hotshot businessman like you doing talking to a tipsy college girl like me?

I smirked. Cute. She thought she was playing the game. But I was the one who created the board.

Me: Maybe I like tipsy college girls.

I let the words linger — just enough innuendo to keep her hooked, but not enough to scare her off. It was a delicate balance — push, but not too far. Pull, but not too hard. Not yet.

Another buzz.

Marionette: You're dangerous, Mr. Jeon.

I let out a dark chuckle. Oh, sweetheart… You don't know the half of it.

-Y/N POV-

The bar felt warmer now — the lights a little blurrier, the music a little louder. Or maybe that was just the alcohol humming through my veins. Either way, I was drunk. Properly drunk.

Another shot slid down my throat, burning for half a second before settling into a warm buzz in my chest. My friends were still howling with laughter over something stupid, but my attention was glued to my phone — to him.

Jeon Jungkook.

The random guy I'd just been dared to text was… surprisingly fun. Smooth, confident — dangerously so — but not in a way that screamed creep. If anything, he was playing along with my drunken flirting, matching my energy. It felt harmless. Silly.

Or maybe the liquor was making me too bold to care.

Me: Jungkook… sounds too serious. What if I call you… Jumpy JK?

I giggled to myself, biting my bottom lip to stifle the sound. God, I was embarrassing.

The three dots appeared immediately. He was quick — too quick for someone who was "busy counting millions" like I'd joked earlier.

Jungkook: Jumpy JK? Sweetheart, I don't think anyone's dared to call me that.

I could almost hear the smirk in his text. It made my stomach flip for some reason — that stupid, annoying flip that happens when someone attractive pays a little too much attention to you.

Which was ridiculous. I didn't even know what he looked like.

Me: Well, there's a first time for everything, Jumpy JK. Consider me the trendsetter.

Another giggle escaped me. God, I was so drunk. He replied again — smooth as ever.

Jungkook: A trendsetter, huh? Should I be worried about what nickname you'll come up with next?

I grinned, my fingers moving faster than my brain.

Me: Hmm… how about Mr. Billionaire Bunny? Rich, smooth talker… but I bet you're secretly soft.

I didn't even know why I said that — something about the name "Jungkook" felt… youthful.

Like he was too polished on the surface but maybe — just maybe — there was something warmer underneath. Or maybe that was just the tequila thinking for me.

The dots appeared. Vanished. Appeared again. Was I throwing him off? Good.

Jungkook: Billionaire Bunny? Careful, sweetheart — you might be onto something.

Something about the way he called me sweetheart made my skin tingle — too warm, too familiar for someone I didn't even know. But I brushed it off. It was just flirting. Nothing more.

Right? I took another shot. The room spun a little, and my thumbs danced clumsily over the screen.

Me: If you're a billionaire, shouldn't you be doing… billionaire things? Not texting drunk girls in bars?

I expected him to deflect again, to play it off like he had before — light, flirty. But his next text felt heavier.

Jungkook: Maybe drunk girls in bars are more interesting than business meetings.

My heart thudded. It shouldn't have. It was just a text. Just a game. Right?

-JEON JUNGKOOK POV-

Billionaire Bunny.

The name shouldn't have amused me, but it did — not because it was clever, but because it was her. She could've called me anything, could've laughed at her own drunken jokes like she just did, and I still would've hung onto every word like a man starved.

Because it was Y/N. My Marionette. The girl who had unknowingly spun herself into my web long before tonight.

I leaned back in my chair, the city lights casting a cold glow across my office. My fingers tightened around the phone, the smooth surface suddenly too small — too fragile — for the weight of my obsession.

She thought this was a game. A drunken dare. A harmless flirtation with a stranger. But to me? It was a door she'd just opened — wide enough for me to step through, to slip further into her life with a smile and a name she didn't yet fear.

Jeon Jungkook.

Not her stalker. Not the shadow who followed her home. Not the man who memorized the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was nervous.

Just a random businessman who happened to text back.

I was playing the role perfectly — friendly, flirty, a touch mysterious. Careful not to push too far too fast. She didn't know that every word she sent fueled something far darker inside me — an obsession that had grown roots so deep, even I couldn't cut them loose.

Her latest message blinked on my screen.

Marionette: If you're a billionaire, shouldn't you be doing… billionaire things? Not texting drunk girls in bars?

I smirked.

Me: Maybe drunk girls in bars are more interesting than business meetings.

It was a simple line — light, teasing — but I wondered if she felt the shift like I did. If she noticed how easily I turned the conversation back to her.

Would her friends tease her about it? Would she glance at her phone and feel the tiniest flicker of intrigue — wondering why a rich, successful man was bothering with someone like her?

Good. Let her wonder. Let the doubt creep in. Because that was the key to this game — not chasing her, but making her step closer. Making her want to know me. To trust me.

Even if that trust was built on nothing but lies. The dots appeared again.

Marionette: Oh? So you're saying I'm more fun than your boring billionaire life?

Me: Much more fun, sweetheart.

The word sweetheart lingered in my mind — a dangerous pet name, too familiar, too intimate — but I liked it. I liked the way I could slip it into conversation and feel her hesitation, the slight pause before she replied.

She noticed. Even if she didn't fully realize it yet — she noticed. And that was enough. For now.

The seconds dragged into minutes.

Her texts — the playful, drunken nonsense that had me grinning like a fool in this cold, sterile office — suddenly stopped.

I stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the keyboard, waiting for those familiar three dots to pop back up. They didn't.

Me: What's wrong, sweetheart?

Nothing. Unseen. Another minute passed. Then two. Then five. The small flame of amusement in my chest flickered — twisting into something darker. Colder.

She didn't just lose interest. No, not Y/N. She was drunk, still giddy and playful just minutes ago — and now, nothing?

Did she pass out?

The thought gnawed at me. The idea of her — slumped over at some dimly lit bar, surrounded by people who didn't know her like I did — was enough to set my jaw tight. She was too careless tonight. Too trusting.

Her friends were probably just as drunk — laughing, dancing, not watching over her the way I would have.

If I were there… I shut my eyes for a beat, breathing slow. I wasn't there — because she didn't want me there. Not yet. Not in the way I needed to be.

She still thought I was just a name on her screen — a random man she stumbled into by chance. Not the man who already knew the bar she was at.

The man who had followed her there once or twice before, lingering in the shadows just long enough to make sure she got home safe.

My fingers tightened around the phone, the plastic and glass creaking under the pressure.

I should leave it alone. Let her wake up tomorrow with a headache and a blurry memory of texting some smooth-talking "billionaire" — let her reach out first.

But the idea of her unconscious — vulnerable — made my skin itch. I had to know. I had to see. With a slow exhale, I typed one last message.

Me: Falling asleep on me already? Or did someone steal your attention, sweetheart?

No response. Unseen.

My jaw clenched.

I leaned back in my chair, the cold glass of the skyscraper window reflecting the dark smirk tugging at my lips. It was fine. Let her sleep. Because tonight was just the beginning.

She'd opened the door — and now, I wasn't going anywhere.

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A/N: How was the story, do tell me.... Also, if you want to be tagged, please feel free to drop a comment or send an ask<3

– DO NOT: repost, translate, copy, continue, or reimagine my work, and upload on different sites. this is mine. let it rest here.