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woso-dreamzzz · 6 months ago

Text

Teenage Dirtbag III

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Teen!Reader

Summary: You get a job

The mural appears on the building in the middle of the night but it's on the morning news show that moment the sun comes up.

You stubbornly ignore the screen as you stare down at your bowl of cereal, the smallest of smiles on your face as you offer a dry cornflake to little Vince, who takes it and scampers off to eat it at the other end of the table.

"I wish you wouldn't let him up there," Mapi says and you roll your eyes.

"You let Bagheera up here."

"That's different."

"Is it because he's a boy? Is that it?"

Mapi lets out a little bark of laughter for a moment before flicking you in the ear. "I'm worried he's going to fall and hurt himself."

Your kitten peers over the edge of the table after eating his cereal, little legs wiggling in preparation to leap as his half ear flicks happily.

"I think he's survived worse."

Mapi rolls her eyes, plucking Vince off the table and placing him on the floor before she makes her morning coffee.

Ingrid's the one watching the news, her brow furrowed as she listens to the report.

"Well," You say, pushing out and up from the table," I'm going to head to school. I'll see you later."

Ingrid's eyes narrow at your abrupt exit and you don't slow down enough for her to open her mouth.

The path to your school is a familiar one, a fancy private school that Ingrid probably pays an extortionate fee to send you to but is still leagues above the boarding school you used to attend in Norway.

But you've still got a blazer to wear and a shirt and tie - not even one of those clip on ones. It's a proper tie that you've got to tie everyday.

Your skateboard wheels roll over the pavement, earphones thumping with music, as you approach the building. There's a teacher at the gate and they give you a look of disapproval as you come rolling past.

"Hoodie off, Engen," They say," You know the rules."

You roll your eyes as you continue on your way, making a show of stripping off the hoodie you've got on under your blazer just as you make it through the double doors - where it goes straight back on again.

School in Spain isn't really that different to school in Norway apart from the fact that everyone's speaking Spanish.

That's not really difficult either - Spanish that is. You've already got Norwegian and English, and Spanish wasn't really too complex of a language to learn either.

Sure, you've got a bit of an accent and sometimes have to take a moment to think through your grammar but it's nothing that makes it impossible to communicate.

"Off the skateboard, Engen," Another teacher says as you ride down the corridor on your board.

"Will do," You lie through your teeth.

The speed of your skateboard is the only thing keeping you away from the gaggle of girls that follow your every move.

Back at home, Mapi thinks it's hilarious. Ingrid says it's sweet.

You think it's annoying. It's bad enough to appear in the middle of the school year and have everyone automatically know who you are. It's worse when a group of giggling girls try to follow you around all the time. You kind of just want to fade into the background.

"I thought the teacher just asked you to get off that skateboard?"

You roll to a stop in front of one of the prefects.

"I mean...they didn't exactly say when I was meant to get off the skateboard? Just that I should get off it?"

She rolls her eyes, arms crossed over her chest. "You know what they meant."

"Do you ever get tired of being so stuck up?" You ask with a cheeky grin.

"Do you ever get tired of pushing boundaries?"

You shrug. "It's part of my charm."

"Yeah, charm," She scoffs," Let's call it that. You know, I should write you up for dress code. You know you're not meant to wear hoodies to school."

"So I've been told."

"Or trainers."

"They're comfortable."

"Or leave your tie undone."

"I don't like the feeling on my neck."

"And that hairband? Black only."

"What? So I can't wear a red hair tie but you can wear pink ribbons? How's that fair?!"

"So now you're trying to fight with me about it?" She asks, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards," I really should write you up."

Your eyes narrow, nose scrunching up. "You're teasing me."

"What gave it away?"

"I hate you."

"No you don't, Engen. But I do have a note that I was meant to give you during registration. Here, you're excused after lunch. Your sisters are picking you up."

You stare down at the note from the office in your hand as she walks off with her stupid pastel pink hair ribbons.

"Hey! Mapi's not my sister!" You yell after her but she doesn't stop to argue with you about it.

You kind of wish she did.

You shake that thought away though, tucking your skateboard safely under your arm as you make your way over to registration.

School is boring like it always is, even though Ingrid's insisted on them giving you challenging work in the hope of keeping you engaged. She doesn't need to know that you're still skipping classes to hang out in the art rooms with that one eccentric art teacher that can't remember your name but does know the exact brand of spray paint that you love.

You're more than happy to sign yourself out for the day with your hood flipped up as you make your way over to Ingrid's car.

You take a glance back at the building, up to the second floor where that girl is sitting with her stupid pink ribbons, staring bored outside of the History class window.

You know she sees you and you know she sees you put your middle fingers up at her.

"Do you have to do that?" Ingrid asks as you slide into the back seat, slamming the door closed behind you. "You're going to ruin my doors."

"The club will just give you a new car," You say dismissively, plugging your phone into one of Mapi's many chargers. "So...Why am I being let out early?"

"We can't want to do something nice for you?" Ingrid hums, pulling out of the school gates and onto the road.

"Not at lunchtime on a Tuesday," You reply and Mapi snickers in the passenger seat," Don't you guys have training or something?"

"It's almost like you want to be in school," Mapi teases," We can always turn around and drive you back."

"I'm good," You say," But, you know, I haven't eaten yet. Can we grab something first?"

It's hours (and one burger) later that has Ingrid watching you from her passing exercise with Esmee.

Your white school shirt is stained with spray paint and she's ninety percent sure that it's never going to be white again. Your blazer is a heap on the floor and your hoodie sleeves are pushed up to reveal a pastel pink ribbon tied around one of your wrists.

You're totally in the zone though as you adjust your hastily made stencils and step back to review your work.

Ingrid's pretty sure someone could scream your name and you wouldn't even notice, too preoccupied with setting up base layers and a few shapes.

"How it's going?" Mapi asks," It looks..."

Well Mapi can't quite tell how it looks because it's just a bunch of colours and vague shape blobs to her.

"I think I'm going to make the focal point the Champion's League trophy," You say," And then everyone spread out around it."

Mapi tries to picture it but the vague blobs and splashes of colour look just like that to her, no hint of what you can clearly see within it. "Cool," Is all she can say in response.

"It'll look good," You reply," I promise."

"I trust you," Mapi says," I'm just a little sad that I'm clearly not seeing what you're seeing."

"Give it a few days," You promise," And it'll come together."

"I look forward to seeing it," Ingrid says as she approaches.

She's with Mapi, unable to see what you can in the splash of colour and swirls but she's seen enough of your work to know that it all starts off like this.

"Besides," Ingrid says, slipping her hand into yours," Maybe with this to work on, you won't go around tagging random buildings that make it on the news."

"You can't prove that was me," You reply, not taking your eyes off the wall in front of you," They were saying it could be Banksy or someone else trying to make a statement."

"Don't be stupid," You sister says," I can recognise your work anywhere."

#woso x reader #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 4 days ago

Note

Maybe a Jack or Robby x reader who is raising her sibling(s)? The kid/teen is taken to the Pitt for whatever reason and some comforting is needed from one of our favorite new doctors? 😊😊😊

Rating: M

Warnings: Angst—a lot; Reader's half-sister has cancer; some fluff; Reader is a former medical student at the Pitt; implied age gap; mention of the death of a parent

Summary: There was nothing different, nothing new. You used to know the feeling of Robby beside you. You used to crave his attention, his approval. You felt the heat of him against your side now, as steady as it had been just a year ago.

When your mother died, the responsibility to care for your six-year-old half sister had closed in so fast. Her cancer diagnosis had hit as furiously as your mother's death, and you'd had no choice but to drop out of med school, to leave the program that you'd entered in at the Pitt.

"Hey."

"Hi—What? Why are you whispering?" Dana frowned, shaking her head as Robby beckoned her closer.

"Am I having a stroke, or seeing things, or—?" Robby nodded toward central, and Dana didn't have to turn her head to know what he was referring to.

"Her sister is in surgery. Came in half an hour ago." She broke it to him gently, and it was hardly a second before understanding washed Robby's features, his hands flexing and unflexing in the fabric of his hoodie over his arms. He took in a deep breath, raised his hand, pinched the bridge of his nose—

"Any news?"

"No. But it's early."

"She can't be back there. She doesn't work here anymore."

"No, but she knows what it's like." Dana leaned a little closer, nudged her hip against Robby's thigh. "She needs something to do. Keep her mind off of what's happening upstairs."

Robby hesitated before he nodded, raising his hand to scrub at his brow before he slid it back to his neck.

"Okay," He conceded. "Okay."

"Dr. Robby, you're needed in south fifteen."

"Yeah. On my way," He answered Perlah without a thought, glancing back toward the sound of her voice, but his eyes stayed glued to the woman at central.

"...Go on," Dana urged, "I'll keep an eye on her. She's not making decisions without input."

"Okay." He answered again, unthinking. He needed to go. There were patients that needed him—but he wondered if she needed him a little bit, too.

"We've got a patient coding in north two!"

You glanced back toward the yell, glanced over as the man near you scrambled out of his chair, leaving something behind.

"Take the pad!" You called back, nodding toward the desk.

He hurried back to his spot, snatching it up—and holding there.

"I, uh—Thanks."

You glanced toward him, brow furrowing.

"Sure."

"I'm Dennis Whitaker."

"Hi, Whitaker." You nodded over your shoulder. "You got somewhere to be?"

"Shit—Yes! Yeah, uh—Yes!"

You glanced after him, straightening up from the computer you'd been leaning over, folding your arms across your chest as you huffed out a laugh, watching him scurry after a few nurses and residents. You heard Dana chuckling behind you, and you couldn't help but shake your head, a smile pulling at your lips.

"Where the fuck did you find Bambi?" You asked, nodding after the medical student.

"Nebraska."

"Huh," You nodded, turning back to the board. "Tracks."

"Thoughts, feelings, opinions?"

"So sweet of you to ask like I know better."

"I don't mind a fresh set'a eyes every now and again."

"You don't need it."

"Maybe I do."

"Please," You scoffed, "You'll outlive us all."

It was a mistake to say, and your eyes darted to your phone screen where it was sitting on the desk. You shook your head, trying to shake yourself from the focus. You knew that you didn't cover well when Dana reached out, rubbing your arm gently.

"Why don't you get some air?" She offered softly. And sure, you knew that it would be for the best, but—

"The uh—" You cleared your throat. "The patient in south three should be sent up to psych."

It took a moment before Dana answered, "We called. We're waiting to hear back."

"How long has he been down here?"

'"'Bout a day and a half hours."

"Jesus," You hissed. "The fuck?"

"I know you've been away from the ED for a while. It's gotten worse." A hand between your shoulder blades, and a soft, "We need ya back."

"I can't afford it."

Your time, your money, your focus, your care—there was no part of returning to the Pitt that you could afford. Being able to return to school would mean losing your sister, and losing your sister would mean—

You turned and braced your hands on the desk in front of you, fighting to settle your churning stomach.

"...Go find somewhere quiet," Dana urged. "We've got it here."

"I really don't think I should be anywhere quiet right now."

"Could do more good than harm."

"Dana—"

"There probably isn't anyone in the chapel this time'a day. Go on."

It was the right suggestion to make, and you'd known it the second she'd made it. You eyed the altar with dispassionate numbness, heart thudding in your ears, eyes unfocused as you tried to take in deep breaths and steady yourself. Your phone stayed clutched in your hands, waiting—damn near praying for a vibration, a text, news.

"This seat taken?"

His voice had no right to make your heart leap into your throat, your fingers tighten further around your phone.

"Ten other pews in the place and you've gotta sit here?" You asked. You didn't turn to look, didn't nod approvingly. But that didn't stop him from stepping in and lowering to sit down beside you.

There was nothing different, nothing new. You used to know the feeling of Robby beside you. You used to crave his attention, his approval. You felt the heat of him against your side now, as steady as it had been just a year ago.

"Surprised to find you in here," He added. You shrugged a little.

"Dana's idea," You admitted. Then, before you could stop yourself, "It's where mom would be."

Robby didn't answer for a moment. You felt him shift beside you, his thigh brushing against yours, then away again.

"...You think your mom is in here now?" He asked softly. And you knew what he meant, what he was driving toward, but—

"Pretty sure we buried her in a cemetery, Robby."

"Okay—"

"Unless someone moved her and they didn't tell me—Should we check under the pews? You take left, I'll take right."

"What is it with you and sincerity, huh?"

"I'm allergic."

"What happens?"

"Oh, I swell up. Anaphylactic shock."

"Good thing you're already at the hospital."

You couldn't help but smile a bit, shaking your head.

"Were you this bad when you worked here?" He pried.

"You know, I think I was. Something about the Pitt just brings it out in me."

"...How long has she been up there?"

What about the last few things that he'd asked made him think that you wanted to answer that question? But facts were facts. And—

"An hour."

"Not bad."

"Sure," You shrugged, nodding before you couldn't help but shake your head. "You know, I never thought knowing what I know could make all'a this worse?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean—I mean when I was younger and my grandpa was in the hospital...I remember being there with him. The doctor was saying a bunch'a shit that I just didn't understand. It's one of the reasons I wanted to become a doctor, you know, to decipher what he was saying. Like learning to read hieroglyphs. But now..." You shook your head, eyes prickling with tears. "Watching Langdon and everyone work on Ellie, hearing what they were saying, reading the screens—It was worse. How could it be worse, understanding?" You slouched against the pew. "I've never wanted to be willfully ignorant before, ya know. Hearing what they were doing, just—" You tried to draw in a deep breath, failed, "Just confirmed just how fucking—" You tried to draw in another deep breath, but it caught in your throat, "How fucking bad it is." You fought to draw in another deep breath as your chest pounded, your eyes welling with tears.

Robby's arm curled around you as you folded forward, pressing the heels of your hands pressing against your eyes to stem your upset.

"She's going to be alright," He insisted, "Garcia's got her."

"Oh, good. That's good," You mumbled. "She'll hold the fact that she saved Ellie over my head forever."

"She might not."

"Oh, please. Have you met Garcia?"

Robby huffed a soft laugh, raising his hand to gently cup the back of your neck, his thumb sweeping across your nape. You let the movement soothe you the way he intended, leaning up into it.

"...Did you tell Dana to kick me out from behind central?"

"No. Why?"

"I saw you talking to her."

"You think it was about you? Self-centered much?" He knocked his knee against yours. "Maybe you should've been a doctor."

"Don't. Don't," Your huffed laugh came with a plea as you squeezed your eyes shut. Robby smoothed his hand across your shoulders, drawing you into his side. And where you would've shied from the touch a year ago, you welcomed it now, leaning heavily against him. You felt him nuzzle against your hair, rest his head against yours, draw in a deep breath. You let yourself hone in on him for a few moments—his warmth, his steadiness where you've so badly missed it, wanted it.

You drew in a deep breath, held it, sighed through your nose.

"You should get back in there," You mumbled.

"The others've got it."

"They need you."

A moment of quiet, another nuzzle against your head.

"What do you need?" He murmured. And you were tempted to fib, to tell him that you didn't need anything. But it had been so long since you'd been asked what you needed, and even longer since you were willing to be honest about your answer.

"...I don't fucking know, dude," You mumbled.

"Is that the truth?"

You startled when you felt your phone buzz in your hand, and you sat up before you could stop yourself, bringing the phone up to eye the screen and scanning the text. You opened your mouth, drawing in a deep breath for the first time in a few hours.

"What is it?"

"She's in the recovery room," You relayed. "She's in—She's in the fucking recovery room—I shouldn't be swearing in a chapel but oh my god—Oh my fucking god," You breathed, folding in on yourself.

Robby didn't let you get far as you shook, just waited, and held as the news settled.

You leaned up slowly, propping your elbows on your thighs and pressing your face into your hands.

"How long 'til you can see her?"

"Half an hour."

"Okay," He murmured, rubbing his hand over your back. "Go get some coffee in the staff room."

"Staff room is for, uh—Staff? Which I have not been for a long time."

"Cafeteria coffee isn't as good."

"I should get the full Pitt experience."

Robby chuckled softly. "You'll do better with ours."

"Maybe."

"Definitely."

You grunted, leaning back against the pew.

"You should get back," You urged again. "I'll be fine."

"...Okay," He murmured. "Keep me updated?"

"Sure." It was another moment before he stood, giving your shoulder a soft squeeze before letting go. You twisted as his footsteps faded, unable to help yourself. "Robby?"

He stopped in the doorway, and you almost crumbled as he caught your eye. You hesitated before you nodded.

"I did feel her here—Mom, I mean."

Robby gave a small smile before he nodded, too, taking a step and turning away.

You waited until he was fully out of the chapel before you let yourself crumble.

Tag list:

@missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @amneris21

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ;

@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ;

@thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @realwhoreforfictionalmen

; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

#Michael Robinavitch x Reader #Michael Robinavitch x You #Dr Robby x Reader #Dr Robby x You #asks #replies #anon

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maplesyrupsainz · 1 year ago

Text

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙bows before bros | LN4 ˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: lando norris x actress!reader y/n (she/her)

genre: social media au

warnings: sooo super fluffy!!

summary: in which a trail of bows leads to everyone's new fav grid couple

a/n: feel like i havent written for lando in ages so here we are!!

request!!!: I’d like to request an au for lando where y/n’s an actress who’s getting recognized more and more, she’s really humble and sweet but pretty similar to lando as a goofy and funny girly(idk why but I picture Sabrina carpenter vibes) 🎀 if u could add a little scene of some of the f1 drivers and wags reacting to their relationship/talking to the media how they’ve never seen lando so happy. Just a sappy and goofy couple living life (manifesting✨🕯️)

fc: sabrina carpenter

my masterlist

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by reneerapp, sydney_sweeney, and 301,283 others

yourusername sooo where else can i put bows? 🎀

view all 6,918 comments

user1 omg the bunny is so cute im going to do that

user2 i dont wear bows in a coquette way i wear bows in an y/n y/l/n way

liked by yourusername

user3 i love seeing y/n in her movies so srs then going on her ig & it's jus this

reneerapp put them on your hand soap 🥺

yourusername you make jokes but i really will do that

user4 LOL as u should y/n!!!

user5 oh i love her

sydney_sweeney this is so real of you!!

yourusername i knew you'd get it

sydney_sweeney bows before bros ‼️

yourusername louder 🗣️

landonorris

liked by sydney_sweeney, danielricciardo, and 819,055 others

landonorris you got my heart loud.

view all 11,193 comments

user6 okay simp lando?

user7 HUH????

user8 looking a LOT like a soft launch i cant lie to u

user9 thts what i was thinking.....

user10 the bows...... anyone one else thinking what im thinking?

user11 DONT EVEN SAY IT

user12 VERY y/n y/l/n coded

user13 y/n was here vibes

oscarpiastri simp simp simp

landonorris shutup pastry boy

yourusername posted a story

liked by sydney_sweeney, daisyedgarjones, and 89,541 others

user14 so cute ily y/n

user15 my spidey senses are tingling

user16 is this a hint that ur dating lando norris.

user17 feels very very targeted miss y/n

user18 our bow queen 🙇‍♀️

twitter ->

instagram ->

landonorris posted a story

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 159,701 others

user22 omg y/n y/l/n is ur gf fr

user23 never thought i'd see the day lando norris pulled

user24 THE BOW AND THE MCLAREN HOODIE AHHH

user25 the most y/n thing i've ever seen

danielricciardo she's made you soft

landonorris she definitely hasnt i'll tell you that much

danielricciardo right. not what i meant but great to know thank you so much

yourusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 661,328 others

yourusername feeling orange 🍊

view all 16,754 comments

user26 oh my god

user27 is this the hard launch

mclaren your best look yet, y/n!

yourusername 🤭 feel very honoured

user28 next we want orange bows

liked by yourusername

sydney_sweeney sports 🤢 but make it girly 🎀

yourusername me with everything

landonorris it's papaya y/n we've been over this

yourusername there isnt a papaya emoji ✨🎀💕🫶🍊

user29 omg they're first public interaction...?

user30 they're in love i called it.

interviews ->

twitter ->

instagram ->

landonorris posted a story

liked by lilymhe, carlossainz55, and 157,814 others

user36 omg lol

user37 THAT'S Y/N'S CAT

user38 lol at ur response to ur friends saying ur obsessed with a girl is to post her cat on ur story with bows on

sydney_sweeney one of us now

landonorris this feels like a cult

user39 the coquettification of lando norris

user40 the y/nification of lando norris

landonorris

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 1,091,727 others

landonorris my response to everyone talking about me recently is you would be the same if you bagged a girl like mine

tagged: yourusername

view all 22,183 comments

user41 A GIRL LIKE MINEEEEE

user42 how did he do it

lilymhe congratulations 🥂

carlossainz55 yippee!!

oscarpiastri we are all beyond proud of you lando

danielricciardo good for you bro

charles_leclerc happy for you

mclaren our fav girl!!

yourusername 🤭🧡

user43 all the celebrations in the comments 💀

user44 they had no faith in him fr

yourusername blushing and giggling at this!!! i love my lil lando!!!!!

landonorris you what?

yourusername i wont be taking questions at this time

landonorris you love me so bad

landonorris i love you so bad

THE END 🧡

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #f1 fic #f1 x reader #smau #f1 imagine #lando norris #ln4 #ln4 x y/n #ln4 smau #ln4 fluff #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 x reader #ln4 x you #maddie's smau

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starsinthesky5 · 3 days ago

Text

you are in love: fast times and fast nights || joe burrow x reader

description: covering the events of F1 Miami and the Met Gala

a/n: a little standalone smau fic for the series to hold you over while I work on the second part of the grammys/honors fic! p.s. there is no faceclaim for this series. i choose photos based on the aesthetic i am going for. there is a mix of photos & some writing in this one!

universe: you are in love

taglist: (ask to be added): @joeyfranchise @joeyb1989 @joeyburrrow @softburrow @burrowbarbie @yelenasbraid @lovelyburrow @majestic87 @grittysbiggestfan @definitelynotdomanique @burrowswomen @lilfreakjez @fourburrow @ladyluvduv

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

📍miami, florida

liked by: joeyb_9, sydneysweeney, f1, taylorswift, sabrinacarpenter, lahjay10_, y/bsf_21, jenfinch_12 and others

tagged: joeyb_9, y/bsf_21, f1, joeandthejuicemiami

y/n_y/ln: you were drivin' the getaway car, we were flyin', but we'd never get far

comments:

joeyb_9: didn't know i owned a juice bar in miami

——— y/n_y/ln: i knew the guy behind the counter looked a little too familiar 🤨

joeyb_9: proving once again i am the best photographer

——— y/n_y/ln: i'm about to kick you off the bed 🧍‍♀️

fan393: JOE AND THE JUICE MENTIONNN. excellent choice y/n

y/bsf_21: baddie baddie shot o'clock 🥂

——— y/n_y/ln: going from playing beer pong in your parents basement at 2 am to drinking espresso martinis in miami. look at us go

fan42: this reputation aesthetic on the feed is eating SO hard

y/bsf_21: thanks @joeyb_9 for returning her to her original lover aka ME

——— joeyb_9: hate to break it to you but...

—————— y/bsf21: is this your version of a hey girly text

sabrinacarpenter: cuties 😘

joeybfanpage: joe in that last pic just barley touching her ankle because he needs to feel her 🥲 boy is GONEEEE

fan2020: patiently waiting for more album crumbs 🍽️

y/nforlife: wait…“we were flyin’, but we’d never get far”??? IS THIS A LYRIC??? new album coded.

f1: paddock royalty 🏎️🏁

fan2: can the season start already i need to see her wag fits so bad

——— fan39: we say this, but watch her pull up in his hoodie and plain black leggings

sydneysweeney: loved seeing you this weekend <3

——— y/n_y/ln: missed you so much

fan22029: this gave me a will to live thanks queen 😍😍😍😍

loverofbridges: every time y/n posts, a queen on pinterest somewhere gets her wings. QUEEN of aesthetics

tatemcrae: glowing.

——— y/n_y/ln: sports car was on loop this weekend

loading 13,286 more…

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

📍f1 miami

liked by: y/n_y/ln, alomen, samhubbard, ryland_1, quinn_ski, bengals, NFL, killatrav, ybsf_21

tagged: alomen

joeyb_9: Traded playbooks for pit stops in custom @alomen

comments:

alomen: fast times 🏎️

y/n_y/ln: you look like you're wearing my silk pajamas

——— joeyb_9: thanks i know i look good 😁

—————— y/n_y/ln: joe i swear if you don't stop

samhubbard: i blinked and joe turned into a damn model

lahjay_10: what the helly is u wearing

NFL: fastest hands in the league meets fastest wheels off the field

bengals: cartier glasses i ain’t even peak at you

quinn_ski: you know damn well you don’t even like going fast grandpa

——— y/n_y/ln: get him for me quinn 🙂‍↕️

—————— quinn_ski: i gotchuuuuu. why have a porsche if you're not going at least 90 on the highway in it

————————— joeyb_9: unlike you two, i would prefer to live to see the day we build a civilization on mars

fan91: y/n is the luckiest woman on the planet because ?? you're telling me she wakes up to this everyday

fan8282: joe and his wristbands. a lovestory

rulethejungle5: my qb at an F1 race wearing pink silk pajamas. what a time to be alive

fan249.2: 😍😍😍😍😍

y/n_collective: i spy a reputation wristband 👀

fan4857: hot 🤤 (said respectfully because i love y/n)

fan535_: i love seeing him and y/n go at it in the comments LMFAOO

——— fan221: old married couple energy radiating off the screen every time 💘

fan8182: his hair HIS HAIR

y/nlover: i know she freaked when she realized he was growing it out again

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y/n_y/ln via instagram stories

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joeyb_9 via instagram stories

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📍ZZ's Miami

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tagged: y/n_y/ln

gridback_news: She’s back in the fast lane.

Superstar singer-songwriter Y/N Y/LN was spotted last night leaving dinner with friends at hotspot ZZ’s Club in Miami’s Design District. The Grammy winner kept it effortlessly cool in a black long-sleeve leather jacket, black top, and denim shorts, paired with her classic red bottom heeled boots & her 'J' necklace. Styled to perfection, Y/N looked relaxed but radiant as she laughed with friends and slipped into a waiting black SUV around 11:40 p.m.

👀 While out with the girls, sources confirm her boyfriend Joe Burrow wasn’t far—insiders say the NFL quarterback and music icon have been in Miami for a few days ahead of this weekend’s F1 Grand Prix, where they’re expected to attend several events together. It’s Y/N's first time at the Miami GP, and fans are already buzzing about a potential grid walk moment with the couple.

💿 As for what’s next? Whispers around the industry suggest that Y/N has a new single set to drop this Friday, marking her first official release since her double single drop the night of the Grammys. Insiders close to her team say the announcement could come as early as tomorrow morning, with a special rollout to follow.

The insider adds that a major source of her peace and confidence lately has been her relationship with Joe. “They’ve found a really strong rhythm together. He’s her safe place. He gives her space to create but never makes her feel like she’s doing it alone,” they say. “He’s been there for the highs, the low moments, the all-nighters in the studio. He knows this song by heart. It's one of his favorites,”. Y/N is reportedly “happier than ever” and “incredibly proud” of what’s coming. One source tells us, “This song is the one that changed everything. She’s telling her story exactly how she wants to,”.

Keep it here for the latest updates on the queen of cryptic captions and slow burns. 🖤🏁

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y/n_y/ln via instagram stories & via twitter

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💿 now playing: call it what you want (y/n)

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tagged: joeyb_9, jackantonoff

y/n_y/ln: lost film: late november.

my world fell apart more than once. quietly, sometimes publicly. and for a long time, i thought i’d never feel safe in it again. this song came from the version of me who was learning how to rebuild—slowly, softly, and with someone by my side who never once asked me to be anything but myself.

“call it what you want” is about finding peace in the wreckage. it’s about the moment you realize you don’t need to prove your love to anyone. it’s not about grand gestures or fairytales—it’s about trust. about someone who builds a fire when the world goes cold. someone who walks toward you, every time. someone who sees you at your worst and doesn’t flinch.

i wrote this in the quiet. no pressure. no expectations. just a girl in love, healing. just a girl who finally let herself feel safe.

this one means more than i can say. it’s yours now 🤍

comments:

joeyb_9: you did more than one thing right. proud of you always 🤍

fan209: the first photo :(

——— fan665: the SECOND photo :( babiesssss

jackantonoff: this one gutted me. you’re magic. honored to be part of it

fan29: WHY IS A CHAIR ON FIRE LMFAOOOO

——— y/ncollective: is this the fire joe built for her im rotfl 😭

taylorswift: this is so beautiful. watching you step into this chapter has been the greatest joy. love you

fan38: THE BICEP PHOTO? look at the way she's latched on that's HER man y'all

fan22: i want whatever this is

fan000: she had bangs...and we DIDNT GET TO SEE THEM? OH WHEN I CATCH HER EX

——— fan8: and when we lock him in a cage like joe goldberg.

fan9: joe took half of these and i'm saying this with no proof but like i just know

sabrinacarpenter: this made me CRY. you’ve never sounded more like you 🥹🖤

oliviarodrigo: my baby’s fit like a daydream?? you’re insane for that line omg

y/bsf_21: ah, the grown out blonde highlights and bangs era. my favorite.

ryland_1: joe's gonna be unbearable after this. man’s floating rn 😭

quinn_ski: she really said “here’s my entire heart” and walked away. elite drop ma'am

enews: this one is already making history 💿🔥

gridback_news: starry eyes sparkin’ up my darkest night? we’re never recovering

fan383: you’ve survived so much and came out of it with a love like this. you deserve it all 🫶

tourupdatez: she said “he doesn’t own me, he knows me” and i fell to my knees in the middle of the dog food aisle

trevortherevver: 🙌

fan2020: this is the first time in history a qb has been the muse for a lyrical masterpiece. joey b you icon

fan39: “loves me like i’m brand new??? how do i recover from that???

——— fan221: we simply don't

joe&y/nupdates: she made vulnerability sound like a love letter. i’m so proud of her i’m sobbing

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gridback_news: Spotted: music’s reigning sweetheart and her superstar QB boyfriend trading touchdowns for home runs in the city that never sleeps 🗽❤️

Pop powerhouse Y/N Y/LN and NFL golden boy Joe Burrow were seen getting cozy at the Yankees vs. Reds game last night in New York City—proving that even when they’re technically behind enemy lines, their loyalty (and love) runs deep.

The couple arrived hand-in-hand, both dressed in sleek, head-to-toe black with lowkey nods to Cincinnati—Y/N sporting a worn-in Reds cap over loose waves, and Joe in a vintage Reds bomber with her initials stitched inside the collar (yes, fans zoomed in). We’re told they kept a low profile in a private box, but still managed to steal the show with their trademark blend of lowkey affection and total “main character” energy.

According to eyewitnesses, Y/N was seen leaning her head on Joe’s shoulder between innings, and at one point, the two were caught sharing a kiss behind Joe’s cap when they thought no one was looking. Spoiler alert: we were. 🧢💋

The sighting comes hot on the heels of Y/N’s emotional new single “Call It What You Want”, which dropped last week and has already been dubbed “her most vulnerable work yet.” The timing hasn’t gone unnoticed by fans, many of whom believe the song is a love letter to Joe, with lyrics that reference “building a fire to keep her warm” and wearing his initial “on a chain ‘round her neck”—which, yes, she was also wearing at the game. The 'J' necklace remains undefeated.

And if you think this is the peak of their Big Apple love tour, think again. Word on the street is that the couple is gearing up for their first joint Met Gala appearance this Monday. With Joe making his Met debut and Y/N returning after a two-year hiatus, insiders say the pair have been working closely with major fashion houses for looks that are tailored to them, while also telling a story only they can read 👀✨

Until then, we’ll be over here watching the game footage like it’s a rom-com.

#YN #JoeBurrow #MetGalaRumors #NYCspottings #Reds #Yankees

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📍the mark hotel, new york city

liked by: y/n_y/ln, joeyb_9, y/ncollective, joe&y/nupdates, enews, vogue, jenfinch_12

tagged: y/n_y/ln

versace: Power, polish, and pure Versace.

Y/N wears a custom silk corset gown from the Atelier, structured elegance with signature edge. Paired with opera-length leather gloves, a statement necklace, and the kind of attitude only a true muse can carry.

#VersaceWoman #VersaceAtelier #VersaceAtTheMet

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[VOGUE ON THE MET STEPS — TRANSCRIPT]

Interviewer: Emma Chamberlain

Guests: Y/N Y/LN and Joe Burrow

EMMA: [smiling wide] Ohhh my god, you look insane. Stop. I’m obsessed. Welcome back to the Met, Y/N!

Y/N: [laughs, smoothing her gown] Thank you, Emma! It’s so surreal to be back. I’m kind of trying not to fall on these stairs right now because I forgot how many there were and overestimated the comfort of these heels, but otherwise—I’m great.

EMMA: Totally relate with you, my feet are legit killing me right now [laughs, watches Joe come up the steps] Oh, but at least you have a knight in shining armor to carry you up the stairs! Look who you brought with you! Mr. Joe Burrow himself—welcome to your first Met Gala!

JOE: [grinning, pressing a quick kiss to Y/N's cheek] Thanks, Emma. I’ve been hearing about this for a long while. It’s definitely living up to the hype for sure.

EMMA: You two are matching on the lowest of keys I see. I don’t want to freak out but, Y/N, your eyeshadow and center stone of your necklace are literally the exact color of his suit. Who planned that?

Y/N: [laughs, shooting a look at Joe] It may or may not have been my idea. I told him, “If I’m putting myself through fittings and five-hour glam, you’re coordinating with me in some way,”.

JOE: [nods solemnly] She told me I didn’t have a choice.

Y/N: [teasing] And yet you loved it. He saw the final look and was like, “Wait…I look good,”.

JOE: [shrugs] I mean—she’s not wrong.

EMMA: I love it. Your looks feel very intentional. There’s a softness, but there’s edge, too—what’s the vibe?

Y/N: We wanted something simple and classic, but also uniquely us. It’s all storytelling, but nobody really knows the tale yet. I’ve been kinda calling it the "calm after the storm,".

EMMA: Ooh, I like that. That feels…metaphorical. Is this look...Reputation coded?

Y/N: [smiles coyly] Maybe. You’ll have to wait and see.

EMMA: Speaking of Reputation—Call It What You Want dropped Friday. The internet exploded, like seriously. People are saying it’s your softest and most honest song yet. How does it feel having it out in the world?

Y/N: I’m honestly overwhelmed—in the best way. This era is different. It’s not about spectacle, it’s about what’s real. I wrote this whole project during a time when I was trying to figure out who I am without all the noise. The love, the stillness, the safety I’ve found…I think people are starting to feel that.

EMMA: [glancing at Joe] I feel like I’m looking at part of the inspiration.

Y/N: [glances at Joe too, eyes soft] Yeah. He’s a big part of it. This one song in particular—it’s the heartbeat of the album. It wouldn’t exist without him.

JOE: [clears throat, trying not to smile too hard] I’m just happy to be here.

EMMA: He’s so chill but the entire internet is screaming every time you two breathe in the same vicinity. Do you read the comments?

Y/N: [laughs] Sometimes. I saw someone call us “the most unproblematic it couple” and I was like…wow. That’s the dream.

EMMA: Well, you two look incredible. Have the best night inside, and please give us more music breadcrumbs soon. The people are starving.

Y/N: [grinning] They won’t have to wait long. Let’s just say…I have a few more tricks up my sleeve!

JOE: [smirking] She never stops.

EMMA: And we love her for it!

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liked by: joeyb_9, vogue, y/bsf_21, taylorswift, sabrinacarpenter, lahjay10_, y/bsf2, jjetas2, and others

tagged: versace, metmuseum

y/n_y/ln: i once believed love would be black & white 🖤🤍 thank you for an unforgettable night @metmuseum

comments:

joeyb_9: that’s my girl.

——— y/n_y/ln: always yours 🖤

joeybnation: joe really showed up in the comments like "yeah i know she’s THAT girl"

y/ncollective: i need this look in motion. in 4k. in my dreams.

fan9_92: the queen of the met gala is BACK bitches ANDDDDD she brought her king

huntershafer: we’re not calling this a look anymore. it’s a moment.

y/nlover: HOT. HOTTT 💘

luxurylaw: it’s the drama. the silhouette. the restraint. flawless styling.

taylorswift: the lyric…the look…the power.

——— y/n_y/ln: love you forever 🤍

fan473: OH MY GOD?????? HELLO

donatella_versace: bellissima! my muse forever. you wore it like it was made just for you, because it was. 🤍

fan202: is that caption...more lyrics. Y/N. honey.

fan221: watching the stream and seeing joe lead her up the steps and making sure she doesn't trip is so 🥲

sabrinacarpenter: you ATE this up and left nothing but corset bones y/n_y/ln: and leather gloves xx

y/bsf_21: never letting you live this down btw. i need a warning next time you serve like that.

vogue: a vision in structured silk 👑 met gala royalty.

teehiggins: 🔥👑

lahjay10_: nah this is the move idc idc. lookin' fly yet again 🔥

——— y/n_y/ln: this is why you're my favorite ❤️

—————— teehiggins: yo? i was gone for 2 seconds and you forgot 'bout me?

jjetas2: she said 90s supermodel villain and she meant it

——— y/n_y/ln: the brief was “make them regret breaking up with you in 2017”

theestallion: bitch. i had to zoom in 3x just to process all that glamour.

versace: Pure goddess. The Atelier lives for moments like this.

——— y/n_y/ln: honored to be part of the house 🤍🖤

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📍met museum

💿 now playing: met gala (gunna)

liked by: vogue, y/bsf_21, y/n_y/ln, lahjay10_, samhubbard, quinn_ski, max_w11, ybsf2, jjetas2, jenfinch12, and others

tagged: gucci, metmuseum, getty images

joeyb_9: Met Gala 2025

comments:

y/n_y/ln: great caption joe🧍🏻‍♀️

——— joeyb_9: you were showering okay i was on my own for this one

quinn_ski: bro you look like you just closed a million-dollar deal and walked straight onto the carpet

——— joeyb_9: had to match her energy

y/n_y/ln: 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤 you look goooooodddd

y/ncollective: HAIR? CHAIN? oh I KNOW she is losing her mind right now. well done joseph

samhubbard: tell me you’re in love without telling me you’re in love 😭

——— fan383: nah cause the way he was looking at her the whole time 😭😭😭

fan721: my qb at the met? are pigs flying? did aaron rodgers retire yet?

y/bsf_21: i was NOT ready for met gala boyfriend reveal oh my goddd

fan2383: that soft smile in the first pic? yeah. y/n's goner.

killatrav: 🔥

gucci: 💙

jjetas2: clean as hell sheist. except for them damn shoes

——— lahjay_10: boy you had one job. you was supposed to yank em off his feet

max_w11: joey franchise in gucci??? give the people what they want!!

teehiggins clean. boy is CLEAN.

vogue: a quarterback in custom gucci. a moment.

bengals4ever: this man is in his soft era and i’m here for it. he never would've went to the met if it wasn't for her

joe&y/nupdates: y/n liking this in 0.2 seconds is killing me 😭

rulethejungle5: another new side quest

burrowsource: she was whispering in his ear half the night. he’s GONE.

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joeyb_9 via instagram stories

y/n_y/ln via instagram stories.

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📍casa cipriani, new york city

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gridback_news: Joe Burrow and Y/N seen leaving the Cartier Jewelry afterparty at Casa Cipriani in NYC last night, and let’s just say, love was louder than the flashbulbs ⚡️

Y/N turned heads in a cream-toned two-piece embroidered with delicate florals, cinched at the waist, and showing just enough skin with a subtle side cutout. She paired the look with a vintage baby blue clutch (some fans ID’d it as archival Prada), her go-to strappy white heels, and soft curls pinned into a low, romantic twist. A Custom Cartier bracelet shimmered on her wrist—rumor has it, a recent gift from Joe.

Joe kept it clean and classic in all-black. A relaxed short-sleeve button-down, tailored slacks, and loafers (a nice change for him)—topping the look with a vintage gold Rolex and subtle chain. And of course, his real accessory? The way he never let go of her hand.

According to one insider, the pair arrived fashionably late (no word as to why 😉), entering through a private side entrance and heading straight to a tucked-away lounge space where they sipped martinis and people-watched from a velvet sofa. “They were whispering, laughing, completely in their own little world,” a source told Gridback. “She adjusted his chain at one point, and he leaned in to kiss her shoulder. It was so soft and natural, not performative at all, even though everyone had their eyes on them. Those two, they were only looking at each other.”

Another partygoer caught them slow-dancing to a surprise jazz set in the back bar room, Joe’s hands resting low on her hips as she tilted her head back and laughed like a little kid at something he whispered in her ear. One blurry but beloved fan-taken clip already has over 1M views with the caption, “This is what love looks like.”

Sources inside also say the night was nothing short of a lovefest for these two. Think sweet kisses in shadowy corners, lingering touches under the dim lights, and whispered words that no bass drop could drown out. Unfazed by the flashbulbs and chaos around them, the lovebirds stayed locked in their own world 💘

🕊️✨ Couple goals, but make it Cartier-certified.

#YN #JoeBurrow #MetGalaAP #NYCspottings #Cartier

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tagged: joeyb_9, y/bsf_21, y/bsf2

y/n_y/ln: holding onto the memories so they can hold onto me 🎞️

comments under this post have been limited:

joeyb_9: holding onto you very tightly

——— y/n_y/ln: oh but I thought you had small hands 🤨

—————— joeyb_9: ...you and me both know that's not true

————————— y/bsf_21: am i interrupting something 🧍🏼‍♀️

————————— y/n_y/ln: joseph lee burrow.

y/bsf_21: you’re so unserious for dropping this and not warning me. you were in your main character with a disposable camera era and i support it fully 🎞️📸

tatemcrae: what camera is this because i NEED

——— y/n_y/ln: olympus om-d e-m10 series <3

jackantonoff: film hits different when it’s curated by a lovesick poet. i said what i said.

sabrinacarpenter: the first pic sent me into cardiac arrest. your grip on the aesthetic girlies is UNREAL.

jenfinch_12: 🤍🤍🤍

lahjay_10: thx for giving me more ammo to tease joe with

——— y/n_y/ln: this is my actual job

oliviarodrigo: love love love this

ryland_1: come to athens soonnnn

——— y/n_y/ln: duhhh. who else is gonna help you & quinn win beer pong against joe, trevor, & max

bengals: 🧡

y/bsf2: the way you’re glowing. like you know he’s obsessed with you or something 😌

——— joeyb_9 because i am obsessed with her

—————— y/bsf_21 : god joe you're such a simp 😪

————————— y/bsf2 : and we love him for it

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y/n_y/ln via instagram close friends stories

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joeyb_9 via instagram stories

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--The End--

233 notes · View notes

yuri-is-online · 2 years ago

Text

Out With the Old (Heartsabyul, Savanaclaw, and Octavinelle x Yuu)

"Look I would get rid of this thing if I could afford a new sweatshirt." You drag the offensive article of clothing over your head completely missing the spark of curiosity and mischief in your companion's eye. "I've got a lot of bad memories associated with this."

"If it's that uncomfortable we can go look for a replacement instead of-"

"Oh no not like that, it's super comfy. I just don't like it because it technically belongs to my ex."

notes: they/them used for Yuu, some questionable behavior from Floyd and Jade because who else? This is meant to be crack. Second part can be found here (x)

Riddle- "THAT'S LITERALLY ILLEGAL???"

He is too focused on hyperventilating because it sounds like you just admitted to a crime in front of him to even think about offering you one of his sweaters. Trey and Cater have to break it down for him unpaid therapist style that no, you are not wearing stolen property (probably), borrowing clothes is just something people in relationships often do. He then further needs it explained that no, you are not still in a relationship and since you want to get rid of the shirt it sounds like things ended poorly. His friends want to try and suggest he should give you an article of his clothing to replace the offending one but he's so focused on getting you something that matches dress code that they decide to quit while they're ahead. Literally.

Trey- "You know you can always ask us if you need help, right?"

Vil's right about Trey's tendency to fuss and spoil people being a bit of a flaw; he's in tune enough with his emotions to know that he should not, for his own sake, give you one of his old sweatshirts without being honest about why he wants you to wear it. But he can't exactly deny his instincts when it comes to the people he cares about. You're cold and uncomfortable, what sort of guy would he be if he just left you all alone? Just please don't brush this off with a comment about how much of a big brother or mother hen he is; it is already going to be pure torture trying to look at you in his things in a Queen of Hearts honoring way. He doesn't need an added complex on top of it.

Cater- "Oh honey no."

Cater doesn't like keeping stuff his exes gave him either, but luckily for him he's never been in a position where that's literally only the stuff he had on him. Speaking of things, he buys a bunch of clothes off magicam he barley has time to take the tags off of before the trend goes stale. You guys should totally ditch what you were planning to do today and have a little fashion show in his room. It'll be cute and he can get a bunch of cammable shots! Just ignore the pop music club hoodie he refuses to take back because it looks "so much cuter on you." <3

Ace- "That's extremely lame prefect."

He isn't blind; you're cute and poor. Anyone would jump at the chance to let you steal a hoodie, besides Ace isn't insecure enough to be super jealous of someone you clearly hate. He knows you well enough to tell when you are silently wishing death on someone, it's all in the vocal tone. But damn if this new bit of information doesn't make things tricky. He already makes a big fuss about not needing to focus on dating right now, and with that iconic sweatshirt of yours technically belonging to an ex it's not like he can just slide you one of his without making it super obvious what he's doing. Looks like you're just going to have to take some extra teasing for a bit prefect, it's his preferred method of cope.

Deuce- "You've been here for how long and the Headmage hasn't given you any clothes?!?!"

Deuce is a good egg whose primary concern is almost always your well being. He tends to act before his common sense and emotions can catch up with his thought process, and that's exactly what happens here. The concept of you dating someone is just so... foreign to him. Not because he thinks your undesirable! It's just that you guys are always hanging out, you not being around makes him feel a bit funny inside, and not in a good way. He doesn't mention that to his mom when he texts her asking if she has any of his old clothes laying around, but she definitely knows what's on his mind. Why else would she have sent his old delinquent jacket?

Leona- "Well that explains why it smells like shit."

Let the record show that Leona is in fact, lying to you. Your clothes don't smell like anything other than you and maybe some of the musk floating around Ramshackle Dorm, but that doesn't stop you from pulling the fabric and taking a good sniff. To Leona, all this really suggests is that you've been over the person long enough that you don't care about keeping their scent around anymore. Sure, a tiny thought does worm it's ugly way into his inferiority complex that "oh they liked someone else" but his equally large ego immediately slams the emphasis on "liked" and starts thinking about how to get his scent on you. He doesn't really own too many jackets like the one you're wearing, but he does have some nice silk scarfs he could wrap you up in. Much classier than whatever trash you had previously been going out with.

Ruggie- "You wanna toss it my way then?"

Clothes are clothes are clothes, you don't see Ruggie acting like his uniform is still Leona's just because that's who originally bought it. If you are really bothered by the memories of your ex, he's willing to listen and make fun of them, assuming that will make you feel better, but this won't make him jealous. That emotion is reserved for when you share food with other people. He is dead serious about taking the sweatshirt if you don't want it, as far as he's concerned that shirt belongs to you, and he wouldn't mind having an excuse to blend your wardrobes a little bit. It would make you even closer to being a real member of his pack.

Jack- "You can just take mine."

Jack's strong sense of justice and firm moral code are definitely his only motivations for offering you one of his sweatshirts. Forcing a student to wear clothes they find uncomfortable and associate with negative memories just because they didn't have the foresight to pack something they did like for a school they didn't know they would be attending is beyond unfair. That's what he tells himself anyway, and it's not like he isn't upset on your behalf, but it's plain as day to anyone that he wants to prove that you can rely on him; he's not like that other person, he doesn't mind being alone together with you.

Azul- "If your finances really are in such dire straights you know I could-"

Revealing personal information in Azul's presence is asking to be offered a deal. Sure that little complaint might have been insignificant to you, but for Azul? He's having a full blown Sherlock style breakdown going on in his head trying to decide what his angle is. 1) The prefect has dated in the past and doesn't look on that experience favorably. Does this prevent them from dating again? Needs further analysis. 2) Giving articles of clothing is an acceptable form of human courtship, even if used. Or is it especially if used? 3) Can he convince you to burn this if he gets you a replacement or is that too petty? 4) More importantly does this mean you have a type? And how does he press for that information without appearing desperate?

Jade- "Oh? Well that sounds extremely annoying."

Jade Leech is first and foremost a messy bitch who lives for other people's misery. Sure, he is reasonably certain he's in love with you at this point, but that doesn't matter. You have a story that's filled with second hand embarrassment and a bone to pick besides he is nothing if not an enthusiastic audience. The thought of you wearing clothes that he owns wasn't something he would have thought of himself, merfolk don't typically wear them so dating customs that involve them are a bit foreign to him. He would much rather just bite you. Or give you some jewelry. both he wants to do both

Floyd- "PUT THAT THING BACK WHERE IT CAME FROM OR SO HELP ME"

The instant you say that sweatshirt is from an ex he is taking off whatever shirt he is currently wearing and trying to tug off yours. Yes, even if it is his basketball jersey, and yes even if he just got back from practice. Isn't the scent supposed to be the point? He knows you miss him when he's gone, and he can get you something nicer out of his closet later. Just remember to tell everyone, even and especially if they don't ask, who gave it to you. Floyd's... nice? Enough? To not immediately burn your sweatshirt but it's up for debate if that's because he's actually being nice or if he just wants a trophy.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst x yuu #riddle rosehearts x reader #trey clover x reader #cater diamond x reader #ace trapolla x yuu #deuce spade x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #ruggie bucci x reader #jack howl x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #floyd leech x reader #jade leech x reader

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strawberry-bubblef · 1 month ago

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Hi! Could I request a platonic ignihyde fic with a child reader who is surprisingly good at coding?

Ignihyde with a Child!reader who is good at coding

Idia Shroud

To say Idia was surprised when Crowley dropped a literal child into his dorm would be an understatement.

He had stared, wide-eyed and frozen, the corners of his mouth twitching with something between panic and suspicion.

“…Okay,” he muttered. “Okay. The headmage finally snapped. I’m hallucinating a child. A child with a backpack. And stickers on their tablet.”

You, meanwhile, were silent. You stared up at the tall, nervous man in the oversized hoodie and fire-blue hair and tilted your head slightly.

“…You’re Idia Shroud,” you said flatly, stepping into his room uninvited and peering at his screens. “Your garbage collector keeps triggering on a five-second cycle. That’s inefficient.”

Idia made a strangled noise. “Wha—?!”

“I can fix it,” you added.

You sat down beside him like you’d done it a hundred times, pulling your tablet out and typing with quiet precision.

And somehow, Idia let you.

It was weird, having someone near him who didn’t need constant social buffering. You weren’t loud. You didn’t force him to talk when he didn’t want to. You liked silence, blinking cursors, logic loops, and cat-themed IDE skins.

Idia thought he might actually be dreaming.

Still, he kept his distance for a while. You were a kid. What if you cried when he got snappy? What if you tripped and broke a server blade? What if Ortho accidentally sent you to the Shadow Realm during VR testing?

But you didn’t cry. You didn’t break anything. You added new firewall protocols to his gaming network and reorganized his project folders in a way that actually made sense.

“…Okay,” he mumbled one night, awkwardly scooting over to make room at his desk. “You can help. But only a little. Like. One file.”

You fixed six and added a debugging tool of your own design.

“…I’m not crying,” he muttered later, face hidden behind a chip bag. “There’s just… too much screen brightness.”

You didn’t say much, and neither did he. But he got used to your presence,the soft tap of your fingers on a keyboard, the way you leaned against the side of his chair when you got sleepy. The way you hummed random game soundtracks while coding, and quietly slid snack packets toward him when his stomach growled.

And you got used to his muttering. His panic,rambling. His snarky comments. You even got used to how he covered his mouth when he was embarrassed.

“You don’t talk like other people,” you said once, blinking up at him.

Idia flinched. “Oh. Uh. Sorry, I guess? I can turn it down.”

You shook your head. “I like it.”

His hair turned a little pink at the ends after that.

He didn’t call you his sibling. Not out loud. Not even in his head, really.

But sometimes he’d look over and see you curled up with your tablet beside him, lines of elegant, efficient code dancing across the screen and he’d feel something settle quietly in his chest. Something warm. Safe.

“…Player Two,” he muttered once, brushing your hair out of your face while you napped.

No response, of course. But your fingers twitched in your sleep, like you were still typing.

He smiled.

Ortho Shroud

The first time Ortho met you, his eyes lit up,literally.

He zipped down from the sky like a comet, bright and excitable. “HI! Are you the new guest staying in Ignihyde?! Crowley told us someone really cool was coming but didn’t give details so I ran ten background checks just in case and—”

You blinked up at him, holding your tablet close to your chest.

“…You’re a robot,” you said simply.

“I’m a technomantic humanoid !” Ortho corrected, glowing a bit brighter. “But yeah! Basically a robot!”

You nodded once. “Cool.”

And then you offered him your tablet.

“Want to see my code?"

To Ortho, that was like being handed a treasure map.

He zipped in close, blue eyes scanning rapidly over your custom interface. “You coded all this yourself?! Wait—these are recursive functions written in HexaScript??”

You nodded. “I optimized the loops. The compiler doesn’t like it sometimes, but it’s fast.”

Ortho hovered in stunned silence.

From that day on, Ortho was stuck to you like a magnet. If you were in the room, he was hovering nearby,spouting programming facts, asking questions, or quietly watching you work while glowing with barely contained energy.

And in return, you liked having him around.

He was loud, sure, and sometimes he got too excited. But he treated you like an equal. He never talked down to you. He never made you feel small, even when you had to stand on tiptoe to reach the desk.

Plus, he let you “borrow” high-grade Ignihyde tech when Idia wasn’t looking.

Ortho often dragged you around the dorm to show you off.

“Look! They built a proxy network to bypass dorm firewalls!”

“They made me a new mini-game and I got the high score!”

“They reprogrammed the toaster so it says ‘good morning’ in binary!”

You didn’t mind. You liked seeing him that happy,how he buzzed with pride and sparkled like stardust.

He even started adapting some of his flight stabilizers to help you reach high shelves. And every time you successfully debugged something difficult, he did a victory spin in the air and called it a “micro hero moment.”

You never had a big family. Never had people who got your weird little projects or your late-night tinkering.

But now you had Ortho.

And he understood your code like it was a language only the two of you spoke.

English is not my first language !

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderlands headcanon #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland x reader #ignihyde #idia shroud #ortho shroud #Platonic ignihyde #Idia shroud platonic #Ortho Shroud platonic

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daxisyzz · 26 days ago

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⁺‧˚ ⋆ 𝐁𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐥 | 𝒃𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒔 ⋆ ˚‧⁺

𝑬𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒅𝒆 4: 𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆... 𝑶𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒎 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒈𝒚

Pairings: ceo!boss!bucky barnes × fem!reader

Other characters: bestfriend!Natasha romanoff

Contents: fake dating, chaotic relationship dynamic, workplace romance, contract relationship.

Summary: To maintain appearances, Bucky takes you on a real date. But instead of romance, you’re drilled on your “favorite things,” relationship history, and how to properly hold his hand for the cameras (he claims you’re doing it wrong). Despite the cold approach, your heart skips a beat when he gently tucks your hair behind your ear.

Word count: 2.6k+

Series masterlist

Previous episode Next episode

Inspired by the kdrama "Business Proposal"

Previously on Business Proposal...

You: “He’s possessed. He’s like boyfriend of the year now. I need answers.”

You waited, and it didn’t take long before Natasha’s reply lit up your screen.

Natasha: “So what I’m hearing is: red dress.”

Despite everything, you couldn’t help but laugh. Shaking off the unease Bucky left behind, one thing was clear: things were getting way more complicated than they should be.

__________________•

It was a day off from work, which meant it was your mandatory self-care day. You were lounging on the couch in your softest hoodie, which swallowed you whole, and your favorite pair of fuzzy socks, complete with an old throw blanket you didn’t know where you’d gotten from.

Your laptop was on the table in front of you, playing a show you’d been dying to watch for a long time. It had been five minutes or so when you started zoning out from all the drama—work, fake boyfriend, and life in general. It was bliss.

No work. No Bucky. No pretending.

You turned your attention back to the show when something interesting started happening, and right then you got a notification. You hovered your hand over the mouse, already suspecting some work email. But when you saw the name, your heart dropped:

James B. Barnes.

An email.

You stared at it for a moment, unsure whether to open it or ignore it and blissfully enjoy your day off. But then you reluctantly tapped the email open.

SUBJECT: Confirmed Appointment - Tonight, 7 PM

To: You

From: James B. Barnes

Time: 7:00 PM

Location: Baccarat Hotel

Attire: Evening formal (mandatory)

Purpose: Public outing, media coverage

Reminder: You’re supposed to be my girlfriend. Try to act like it.

—J.B.B

You blinked once. Twice. And then you read it again, just in case your eyes were playing tricks on you.

A formal dinner invitation, in your inbox, from Bucky. At 7 PM. With a specific dress code. The use of the word “girlfriend” seemed to leap off the screen.

This was absurd. He was absurd.

You threw your head back on the couch and groaned loudly, your peaceful self-care day absolutely ruined by a man who thought sending emails about what to wear was somehow romantic.

A formal dinner invitation? On your day off? From Bucky Barnes, of all people? You should’ve ignored it, turned your phone off, gone back to your show and fuzzy socks. But no. You were bound by a contract. And you couldn’t risk anything.

You groaned, collapsing face-first into the couch cushion. After a good thirty seconds of dramatic internal screaming, you lifted your phone and fired off a text to Natasha.

You: SOS. Emergency dinner with CEO demon. Fancy dress required.

Natasha: Be at your place in 20 mins. It’s my time to shine.

Your brows pulled together.

You: Why?

Natasha: Because I know you and you’re probably about to wear a panic hoodie to a five-star hotel. Also, I may or may not have a new collection of dresses that needs a gorgeous model. See you soon.

You didn’t even have time to process that before she was ringing your doorbell twenty minutes later, standing there with a garment bag slung over one shoulder and a smirk that said, “I told you so.”

“I should’ve blocked you,” you mumbled, letting her in.

Natasha ignored you, kicking off her boots as she made her way into your apartment with the energy of a woman on a mission. “Let me see the dress code again.”

You handed her your phone, watching her eyebrows rise as she read the email.

“Evening formal? Damn. He’s not playing around.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled, not too enthusiastic about it.

She grinned, already unzipping the garment bag and laying dresses across your bed like precious artifacts. “Well, if you’re going to be dating a billionaire, you better look the part. Try this one first.”

An hour later, after a blur of fabric swishing, makeup brushes flying, and Natasha yanking your hair into an updo with terrifying precision, you stood in front of the mirror and barely recognized yourself. The red dress she’d picked hugged your body like it was made for you sleek, elegant, daring. Your hair was swept up in soft curls, a few tendrils framing your face. Gloss shimmered on your lips, just enough to catch the light.

“I look like a Bond girl,” you whispered.

Natasha smirked. “Damn right you do.”

At exactly 7:00 PM, your phone buzzed again.

Bucky: Come down. I’m outside.

You blinked at the text.

“He’s here?” you said aloud.

“What, did you think he’d send a car and not show up himself?” Natasha asked. “The man is so obviously going to fall for you again,” she said, gushing, not noticing your pained expression.

You took one last glance in the mirror before heading downstairs, Natasha’s voice echoing in your head “You look like a damn movie star. Now go knock him dead.” She’d even dabbed perfume on your wrists before practically shoving you toward the elevator, claiming, “First dates need real effort.”

The heels clicked steadily against the marble of the lobby, your heart thudding in sync with every step as you smoothed your hands over the front of your dress. There was something oddly vulnerable about being this dressed up like shedding your usual armor and walking out into the world in skin made of satin and red lipstick.

When the doors opened to the street, you paused in the doorway, scanning for him.

And there he was.

Bucky stood near the curb, casually leaning against a sleek black car that looked far too expensive to exist outside of movies. His phone was in one hand, but he wasn’t looking at it. No, his eyes were already on you, blue and unreadable, flickering just slightly when they landed on your figure.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

He stood upright slowly, sliding the phone into his jacket pocket, expression unreadable. The way his gaze moved over you was careful. Not possessive. Not leering. Just… curious. Assessing. Like he wasn’t quite sure how to respond to the version of you in front of him.

Finally, he said, “You clean up okay.”

You raised your brows. “You really know how to flatter a girl.”

He opened the car door for you with a slight smirk. “I’m saving my A-game for when the press shows up.”

“Lucky me.”

You ducked into the car, the leather seat cool against your skin. As Bucky rounded the front of the vehicle and slipped into the driver’s side, you couldn’t help but glance at him sideways. The suit he wore was navy, almost black in the low light and cut to fit him like it had been sewn onto his frame. Everything about him looked crisp, controlled, smooth and next to him, you felt like the chaos you always were, bundled into a red dress and nerves.

The ride was… surprisingly quiet.Not awkward exactly, but full of unspoken thoughts hovering between you like smoke. The soft hum of the car filled the silence as the city blurred past the windows, streetlights casting gold and silver shapes across Bucky’s face. You caught him glancing at you once or twice, but he didn’t say much and neither did you. Maybe you were both trying to figure out how to pretend to be something you weren’t. Maybe it was easier to save the performance for the public eye.

By the time the car pulled up to the Baccarat Hotel, your stomach had settled into a tight knot of anticipation.

The valet opened your door, and Bucky was there again, offering his hand as you stepped out. His touch was brief, steady, warm but it lingered in your skin longer than it should’ve.

The hotel’s entrance glowed like something out of a dream: all chandeliers and soft jazz and air that smelled like money. Bucky led the way, a respectful hand at your lower back as he murmured his name to the hostess. You didn’t miss the way she blinked a little too much when he looked at her.

Of course she did.

You were seated at a corner table near the center of the room, beneath a chandelier that scattered light like falling stars. Crystal glasses. Fresh-cut flowers. A waiter who addressed Bucky as “Mr. Barnes” and you as “Miss” before slinking off like he’d been trained to vanish.

You picked up your menu just to have something to look at, but Bucky didn’t seem interested in the food. His eyes were still on you.

“You’re nervous,” he said quietly.

You looked up. “I’m annoyed.”

“Same thing.”

You gave him a flat look. “Is this how you normally start dates? By diagnosing women like some underpaid therapist?”

His lips twitched. “Only the fake ones.”

You exhaled a soft laugh despite yourself and returned to your menu. “You should know I’m ordering the most expensive thing just out of spite.”

“Good,” he said smoothly, “because if you order a salad, I’ll assume you’re incapable of making real decisions.”

You lifted your water glass in a mock toast. “Cheers to mutually assured irritation.”

The conversation settled into a strange rhythm after that, still sharp, but laced with something lighter.

“What’s my favorite fruit?”

You blinked. “Are we quizzing each other now?”

“We’re dating. You should know.”

“Plums.”

“Wrong.”

You put the menu down. “Okay then. What’s mine?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Strawberries.”

“Wrong.”

He looked genuinely surprised. “Seriously?”

“Mangoes.”

He leaned back, nodding once. “Good to know. We’ll work on that.”

“Work on what?” you asked incredulously.

“Our relationship. Or the appearance of one.”

Before you could reply, he tossed out another: “Dogs or cats?”

“For you or me?”

“Start with you.”

“Both,” you said.

“Same.”

“I guessed you’d be a cat person,” you teased. “Quiet. Judgey. Moody.”

He smirked. “Fair. I like cats more.”

You sipped your water and tried not to notice how easily this weird fake date had become… almost natural.

Then came a softer question.

“What’s your favorite flower?”

Your eyes flicked up to him. He wasn’t looking at you like a CEO; he was looking at you like he actually wanted to know.

“Peonies,” you said softly.

He didn’t speak, just nodded like he was filing that information away under something important.

Halfway through the meal, as you dabbed your lips with a napkin, a camera flash flickered somewhere beyond the hotel’s tall windows. Bucky noticed it too, his jaw ticking the slightest bit as he glanced toward the source.

“They’re here,” he said under his breath, almost like an afterthought. “Time to look convincing.”

You raised an eyebrow and leaned back slightly in your chair. “Is this the part where you pretend to be wildly in love with me?”

“No,” he said, his voice low and steady as he reached across the whitelinen tablecloth, “this is the part where I teach you how not to hold my hand like I’m your dentist.”

You blinked as he took your hand in his, his fingers wrapping around yours with gentle insistence. The contact startled you not because it was sudden, but because it wasn’t cold or stiff like you’d expected. It was warm. Grounding. Intentionally slow.

“You’re gripping like you’re bracing for a storm,” he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of your hand. “Relax.”

“I am relaxed,” you said a little too defensively, your heart betraying you by thumping faster under his gaze.

He gave you a look, tilted head, a soft smile tugging at one corner of his mouth like he didn’t believe you for a second.

Then he adjusted your hand, gently repositioning your fingers until they rested naturally against his. His touch wasn't clinical, and it wasn’t showy either, it was deliberate. Careful. Like he knew exactly how this would look to anyone watching, but also maybe… maybe like he didn’t hate how it felt either.

“Better,” he said, still looking down at your joined hands. “That looks less like business partners about to sign a contract.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t just stab you with my fork.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t replace you with someone who knows how to fake chemistry.”

You shot him a withering look, but the corners of your mouth twitched before you could help it. “Wow. That’s romantic. Is this how you charm all your fake girlfriends?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he leaned in a little, his expression softer than before. The glint of amusement in his eyes gave way to something more thoughtful, almost contemplative. His free hand reached up, slowly, deliberately, and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers gliding across your cheek softly. The world around you blurred just a little.

You could still hear the clinking of glass and silverware from the other tables, the soft croon of jazz from the speakers, the occasional click of cameras outside but it all sounded distant. Muted. Like you were underwater.

His fingers lingered just a second too long at your temple, the pad of his thumb brushing skin before retreating.

“There,” he said quietly, as if he hadn’t just tilted the world on its axis with a single gesture. “Now you look the part.”

You swallowed. “Of your doting girlfriend?”

“Of someone who might actually like me,” he said, voice almost too low to catch.

The moment you stepped out of the hotel’s grand revolving doors, chaos greeted you.

A wall of flashing lights, camera shutters snapping like rapid fire, voices calling out names and questions and theories. It was blinding. Disorienting. You barely had time to react before Bucky’s arm was around your waist, firm and steady, guiding you forward like he’d done this a hundred times before.

It wasn’t rough. It was instinctive, protective, like your safety was muscle memory to him.His touch was warm even through the fabric of your dress, anchoring. His stride matched yours effortlessly, as though you’d rehearsed this dance.

“Smile,” he murmured, lips barely moving. He didn’t look at you, eyes locked ahead like a soldier marching through gunfire.

You plastered on your most radiant, camera-ready smile, the kind that felt like a lie but looked like a magazine cover.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” you muttered back, still flashing that smile.

Bucky leaned in, lips near your ear, voice low enough to send a chill down your spine. “You passed. Barely.”

You dug your elbow into his side, not too hard but just enough. “If this dress had pockets, I’d be reaching for my pepper spray.”

He didn’t even flinch. “Thank God it doesn’t. You look like you’d actually use it.”

You couldn’t help it, you laughed. A real one, soft and under your breath. You weren’t sure if it was the absurdity of the evening or the fact that Bucky Barnes, CEO and professional stoic, had just made a joke. About your dress, no less.

The cameras didn’t stop until the car door clicked shut behind you. The world outside was a blur of lights as he pulled the car away, but inside the car was quiet. Not awkward, not tense, just… quiet. Easy.

And that might’ve been the strangest part of all.

Later that night, after the makeup was wiped off and the pins in your hair were undone, you finally made it back to your bed. You dropped face-first into the mattress with a dramatic sigh, still in your dress, heels somewhere near the door like casualties of war.

Your feet ached. Your head buzzed from the forced conversation and endless smiling. But your heart, that was the real traitor. Because it wouldn’t stop replaying one stupid, small moment:

The way his fingers had brushed your cheek. The look in his eyes right after.

You groaned into your blanket.

Get a grip.

Then your phone buzzed. A message. From Bucky.

Mr.Barnes: Plums are my favorite. I just said wrong to mess with you.

You blinked at the screen. Then read it again. A laugh bubbled out of your throat, unexpected and warm. You sank deeper into the bed, smiling against your pillow.

Maybe he wasn’t a complete machine after all. Maybe just maybe there was something under all that armor.

And maybe that was the real danger.

Taglist: @calwitch, @scott-loki-barnes, @baw1066, @awesompawsum, @bucky-baby-barnes, @marianastudiesart, @pattiemac1, @maryevm, @borkybawnes, @mcira, @otterlycanadian, @mrsnikstan, @sebastians-love

#bucky barnes x reader #⁺‧˚⋆Business proposal⋆ ˚‧⁺#james bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #ceo!bucky barnes #marvel fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #fanfiction series

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clockwayswrites · 1 year ago

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City Pigeons - Part 10

WC: 817, Masterpost

Jason sighed as the tablet in his hands flashed with alerts. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“How did the meeting with Black Bat go?” Bruce asked instead of responding, because of course he did.

“You know it went fine,” Jason said, trying not to snap. “Besides, everyone likes her, there was a good chance it was always going to go fine.”

“We both know trauma isn’t always that easy,” Bruce said, his tone carefully modulated to be gentle. It rankled Jason, like it always did.

Jason took a breath and let his chin drop to his chest for a moment. Bruce didn’t mean it like that. He knew that now. This was Bruce trying as best as he was able— it wasn’t just another mask. Bruce just had to put effort into emotions that made it seem forced. Jason pushed away his flair of temper; it was harder to do than he’d like after too much worry and too little sleep.

“Ja—”

“I’m fine. It’s just like you said, trauma isn’t always that easy. I’m fine,” Jason said as he waved the concern away. “And names. You know we’re sticking to code names still.”

Bruce tilted his head, observing Jason through the white lenses. (That used to rankle too.)

“You thinking there’s a chance he’ll run.”

Jason sighed. He gave an exaggerated shrug to cover the worry that ran through him at the question. “Not run, exactly. I think he doesn’t believe that he can stay— that it’s even on the table. I think that we’re his last hope and he doesn’t believe in hope anymore.”

Bruce didn’t move. Jason gave him time to think that over.

“That’s why he doesn’t want to see… Wayne,” Bruce said, slowly, like he was feeling the idea out. “He doesn’t expect to get anything from him so it’s better to be healed up first.”

Jason shrugged again.

“Figure so. But also once that meeting happens, whatever happens, then all of this,” Jason motioned to the safe house, “is over as far as he knows. If he puts off the meeting, he puts off the risk of losing the first safety that I think he’s hand in a long, long time.”

Bruce’s shoulders hunched and he almost blended back into the shadows by the window. “If he’s already posed for it to go badly…”

“B, that’s not your fault,” Jason said— had to say. “The kid’s been through hell, maybe by his own family, of course he’s going to expect the worst.”

It was a long moment and then Bruce nodded, just once. “What’s the plan?”

If Jason really had his way, the plan would be to deal with all these ill feelings, but that’s not what anyone in the family was good at, him included. It would be what it would be.

“We’ll have BB over again for a meal tomorrow. I’m sure it will keep going well and she can help be on watch that night. We think it’s best to give that a few days before we introduce O or anyone else new, so you have to keep the rest of the horde reigned in,” Jason said pointedly. Then a though occurred to him. “Where is the little spawn anyways?”

“He’s on the roof across the block.”

“Yeah, is he? Because that was a lot of alerts—”

“Hood!”

Jason didn’t think before he was striding across the room towards Danny’s room. The kid was standing in the door. White hair stark in the low light. Green eyes bright.

Glowing.

Wide with fear.

“Danny?”

“Someone else is here,” Danny said. His voice was almost too quiet to hear, but Jason could half swear he felt it in his very bones. Danny reached out and clung onto the sleeve of Jason’s hoodie. A cold settled into Jason’s bones along with the vibration of the soft words. “Someone touched by death. Can you feel them too? They’re not not like us. They haven’t died. They haven’t died, but they reek of death. Hood, what are they?”

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe here, remember?” Jason assured Danny automatically. The words rolled out of his mouth without Jason having to even think about them, which was good, because Jason’s mind was still caught on Danny’s words: They’re not like us. They haven’t died. “Some Bats just stopped by to check on us.”

Was it Bruce? Did all of Gotham’s death cling to his shoulders like his cape?

Was it Damian? Was it the stench of the Pits?

Or did Jason miss something else slipping in with all of the other alarms.

“We’ll go check on Nightwing together, alright? I bet he has a little red and black guest who slipped in,” Jason said. He twisted his hand to hold Danny’s. The cold bit at his skin. He didn’t let go.

He hoped he was right.

He had a hard time believing in hope too.

---

AN: A myyyyyyyystery *wiggly fingers*. Gods I'm so tired.

I no longer tag, you can subscribe to the masterpost instead!

#jason has therapy but he still hates feelings #bruce doesn't know how people do feelings #this is a problem #dp x dc #batpham #city pigeons

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calphalon · 4 months ago

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always watching | jason todd headcanons

⤵ pairing: jason todd (red hood) x reader ⤵ tw: all lowercase, possessive behavior, stalking, breaking & entering, one-sided affections, yandere ⤵ note: acts of service are jason’s love language... that and maybe he might like scaring you ⤵ inspo song: black hole sun by soundgarden

hasn’t always gotten this close to you.

at first it was just watching you on the subway, taking note of your commute where it crossed paths with him. watching as you walked down dark streets on your way home from a night shift you picked up.

he didn’t intend to get so invested in a civilian, not so much that he used his patrol routes to keep an eye on you. the later you work, the worse he is about following your every step. so much so that he starts to follow you on foot opposed to watching from just balconies and rooftops.

sometimes he would even follow you during the day, hood up and wearing a mask. you never seemed to notice the man in a red hoodie who sat a few tables down from the dinner you liked, the one who would stare at you the entire time. the one who would order a meal just to pretend like he was sharing a meal with you.

sometimes he would even talk to himself, pretending the two of you were actually on some kind of date like this. other people would notice, but behavior like that in gotham was easily dismissed.

it gets to a tipping point when he notices that you keep a window open poorly locked in your apartment. one next to the fire escape, locks almost as old as the building itself. He tests it one day in the hopes you might want him inside your house, and he takes it as a sign.

his nights begin to end with waiting for you to fall asleep, sneaking in, and taking in a slice of the life he pretends to have with you. there is this delusion that somehow this is your way of silently letting him know you know he is there - watching your every move - and want something more. something real.

you start to notice that the dishes in the sink you left the night before are clean and put away. the hinges that used to squeak on the doors are greased up and no longer make noise. The sink in your bathroom that drips no longer causes you problems.

some things you dismiss as luck. others you try to dismiss as your landlord finally stepping up. there is this uneasy feeling you have now, this feeling of being watched.

maybe it’s when you notice the fridge is stocked up with groceries after you spent your check on bills. maybe it’s the fact your neighbor complained about you letting guests use the fire escape to loiter on. maybe it’s when you noticed the bathroom mirror still fogged up when the morning came despite not taking a shower the night before. maybe it’s that feeling of a second body in the bed even though you know you live alone.

jason has gotten comfortable with this routine. visiting you while you’re asleep, relaxing in your home as if it was his own - of course it was his now, you basically invited him in every night - and enjoying being so close to you.

he gets so comfortable he starts entering your place even when you’re awake. listening to you shower, watching you cook breakfast, taking note of how sweet you look so domestic. he can practically imagine what life would be like once you’re his.

something puts you on edge, causing you to call out of work. you start asking friends to stay over. you’ve even started to look at new apartments, worried that maybe someone has been secretly living in your cheap one-bedroom hole-in-the-wall while you’re away… and maybe while you’re still there.

he gets sloppy. purposely sloppy. jason thinks he might like the way you’re scared, constantly checking if other people have been having similar issues in your area. checking if any convicts escaped recently. looking over your shoulder even in your own home.

you do move, find a slightly better place with a code to get in the building and someone downstairs watching who enter and exits.

for a little while there is the ability to feel comfortable again…

then you wake up to a new coffee maker on the kitchen counter with a note attached, letting you know he likes the new place better than your last.

“the windows lock better here. enjoy the housewarming gift.”

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd headcanon #yandere jason todd #yandere red hood #x reader

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bnny0rgnz · 1 month ago

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A/N : Hello! Sorry for not posting in a while like I said I was going to do, I had a field trip all week so I wasn't able to post. But anyways, the playlist will drop tomorrow so stay tuned and enjoy!! (will probably edit this tomorrow, I'm so tired)

The Bloom Effect

Wayne Manor was quieter than usual, and not in the peaceful way. The air felt thick with unspoken thoughts and hushed regrets. The aftermath of the gala still lingered—an event that left ripples through the halls of the manor and inside Bruce’s mind.

He had danced with you.

He had looked at you and truly seen you.

Now, he couldn’t stop noticing everything he had missed for years.

The bruises on your arms and the faint limp when you climbed the stairs hadn’t been new. But now, they haunted him. Every fresh scrape that bloomed across your skin felt like a personal failure. His daughter—his blood—was getting hurt and sneaking around, and he hadn’t noticed. Not really.

One morning, a chill hung in the air as you crept through the front door. You were careful, almost silent. Hoodie pulled tight, steps calculated. But Bruce had been waiting.

“Where have you been?”

Your breath hitched. You looked up to find him in the foyer, arms crossed.

“Out,” you answered softly.

“Out where?”

“With some friends. Just hanging out.”

He stepped closer. “Hanging out?” He glances at you, eyes darting up and down clearly with suspicion

You nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Bruce's eyes narrowed. “You’ve been coming home covered in bruises and cuts. You’re limping half the time. No more sneaking out.”

“I’m fine—”

“You’re grounded. Effective immediately.”

You froze. “I’m sorry?”

“You don’t leave this house unless Alfred, one of your siblings, or I go with you. That’s final.”

You held back the urge to push back. “Yes, sir.”

The days blurred after that. No missions. No late-night training. No Lucian. Just you and the vast halls of the manor that suddenly felt much smaller.

You spent most of your time texting in quiet corners. First the kitchen, then the sitting room, sometimes your bed.

Lucian: Grounded? Seriously?

You: Yes. Father found out.

Darlene: That’s ridiculous. You’re not a child.

You: To him, I still am.

Lucian: We’re not sidekicks. We’re vigilantes.

You didn’t reply right away.

You: He’s just… worried. I think.

Lucian: Worry doesn’t give him the right to clip your wings.

You chewed your lip, glancing toward the door. You’d chosen the library this time, nestled into one of the armchairs. Behind you, footsteps echoed.

“Hey,” Tim said, leaning on the doorframe. “I made some hot cocoa. You want to join us in the lounge?”

You looked up from your phone. “Thank you, but I’m okay here.”

He lingered a moment, as if about to say more, but walked away.

Later, in the kitchen, you sat at the island counter, thumbing a text.

Darlene: What are you doing right now?

You: Trying to survive house arrest.

Lucian: If they’re watching you, be subtle. Use code.

“Who’s got you smiling like that?” Stephanie’s teasing voice interrupted.

You straightened slightly, putting your phone face-down. “No one. Just my friends.”

“Friends or boyfriend?” she pressed.

“No,” you answered, cheeks pink. “Nothing like that.”

Jason looked up from his mug. “Friends who don’t live here?”

“Yes.”

“Probably teaching her how to throw a punch better than you, Todd,” Damian muttered as he passed.

Jason raised an eyebrow. “She’d have to try first.”

You didn’t answer. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you didn’t know what to say. You turned back to your phone.

Damian frowned. “You spend more time on that thing than with your family.”

You paused. Slowly turned to him. “I didn’t mean to ignore anyone.”

“You just did.”

Stephanie reached over and gently touched your hand. “Ignore him. He says that stuff to all of us.”

But the comment stuck. Especially when Dick started asking questions. Softly at first.

“You okay, kiddo?”

You nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”

That night, Bruce appeared at your doorway. Silent. Stern.

“Your phone.”

You looked up, blinking. “Sir?”

“You’re grounded. That includes the phone.”

You hesitated. “But it’s just my friends.”

“I know. But you’re not here. Not really. And I want you to be. We all do.”

There was no venom in his voice. Only guilt.

You nodded and handed it over.

Everything changed after that.

Family dinner. Movie night. Game night. Botanical gardens. Homemade pizza.

You didn’t know how to handle it.

The board games were awkward. You didn’t know the house rules, and when you won a round by accident, they all cheered and you didn’t know how to react.

“Beginner’s luck,” Tim teased.

“Obviously,” Damian muttered, though there was no heat in it.

You sat curled up beside Cass during the movie night, half-distracted by the unfamiliar sensation of being invited.

“I like this part,” she whispered.

You nodded, unsure what else to say.

At dinner, Alfred had made your favorite dish. You hadn’t told him—it just appeared.

You quietly thanked him, your voice barely above a whisper.

Later that week, Bruce took everyone out to the botanical gardens. You walked beside Vivienne.

“These colors suit you,” she said softly.

“They’re beautiful,” you agreed.

She glanced at you. “I’m glad you’re getting some time with them. You deserve it.”

You gave her a small smile. “Thank you.”

Behind you, Bruce walked with Tim and Dick.

“She’s different lately,” Tim said.

Bruce nodded. “I think she’s always been this way. We just… never gave her room to show it.”

“I didn’t know she liked flowers,” Dick murmured.

“I didn’t know her favorite color,” Bruce admitted.

None of them said what they were really thinking: they didn’t know you at all.

Later that night, you helped Alfred clear the table. Vivienne and Bruce were still in the dining room, sipping coffee.

“I remember when I was her age,” Vivienne mused. “All I wanted was to be noticed.”

Bruce looked toward the kitchen. “She makes it so easy to miss her. Always quiet. Always polite.”

“She shouldn’t have to scream to be seen.”

He nodded slowly. “I’m trying. I just hope it’s not too late.”

By the third family night, you laughed at one of Jason’s terrible jokes.

Everyone paused.

You froze.

“Did she just laugh?” Jason grinned.

Stephanie nudged you playfully. “Welcome to the chaos.”

You relaxed. Just a little.

After the game, you and Cass sat on the stairs while the others cleaned up.

“You’re getting used to it,” she said.

You nodded.

“It’s okay if it feels strange.”

You looked at her. “Does it go away?”

She thought for a second. “Not completely. But it gets easier.”

You believed her.

The next morning, Bruce knocked on your door.

“I thought we could go to the lake house next weekend. Just us. If you’d like.”

You looked up, startled. “Really?”

He nodded. “I want to know you. Really know you.”

For a moment, your throat tightened.

You nodded slowly. “I’d like that.”

He smiled faintly. “Good. I’ll make sure Alfred packs the cocoa.”

You smiled back, tentative.

Maybe this time, it wouldn’t fade away.

Maybe this time, you won't be forgotten.

You were blooming.

And they were finally seeing it.

#batfam #batfamily #batfamily x neglected reader #batman #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #damian wayne #dc universe #dick grayson #tim drake

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solxamber · 8 months ago

Note

If you haven’t gotten this already, maybe a part 2 to Idia x sentient npc reader?

Maybe they somehow find themselves in twst? Maybe isekai style (I’m stuck on you villainess fics lol)? Or if you had other ideas that’s totally fine too. (I’m not used to requesting 😭)

I really like your stuff so honestly I wanna give you as much creative freedom. Or if you feel like that fic is over/you don’t have inspo for it anymore that’s understandable too 😊

Keep up the amazing work!! 💖💖

Idia Shroud x Sentient NPC Part 2

Part 1 : here

Thank you for the request, and I'm glad you like my isekai fics <3

The moment you blink into existence in Twisted Wonderland, you’re not sure if this is real life or another game glitch. One minute you were comfortably breaking the fourth wall and wooing a gamer, and the next? You’re standing in front of an overgrown haunted house with a big “Night Raven College” sign. And a certain blue-haired, fire-topped guy is gaping at you like you’ve just sprouted another head.

“W-WAIT,” Idia stammers, eyes wide behind his tablet as he stares at you. “This—This isn’t happening. There’s no way. Did I… did I actually summon an NPC?!”

You take one look at him—tousled hair, dark circles under his eyes, and the way his fingers hover over his tablet like it’s some sort of lifeline—and a grin tugs at your lips. Oh, this is gonna be good.

“Well, well, well,” you say, casually strolling over to him. “If it isn’t my favorite player. Miss me?”

Idia makes a noise somewhere between a squeak and a strangled gasp, his whole body freezing up. “Y-You—! You’re here! How are you here?! Did I—is this some cursed DLC? Am I in a nightmare? Oh my god, is this another event?!”

You lean in, narrowing your eyes playfully. “Nightmare? Babe, I thought you were happy to see me.”

Idia’s face flushes a deep red, and he yanks his hoodie up over his head, mumbling something incoherent into the fabric. “H-Happy? Who said anything about happy?! I didn’t sign up for a ‘real-life NPC invading my world’ edition!”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? You weren’t just thinking about how much you’d like me if I were in the real world?”

He stiffens so hard it’s like his entire spine turned into a steel rod. “HOW DID YOU—NO. I didn’t—this isn’t—this is a glitch, it has to be! Or a fever dream. Or maybe I finally lost it after all those sleepless nights grinding for rare drops—"

"You're cute when you ramble," you interrupt with a smirk, enjoying watching him implode. "So, are you going to show me around this place, or should I just assume you’re too flustered to handle me?"

Idia stares at you like you’ve grown two extra heads. “Y-You’re just… okay with this? You’re literally… in a different dimension, and you’re fine?!”

You shrug. “Eh, it’s a step up from my last gig. Besides,” you add, leaning in closer, “I kinda like having you as my guide.”

His brain short-circuits for a full ten seconds. “G-GUIDE?! L-Like an actual dating sim?! Do you think this is a game?!”

You pause dramatically. “Isn’t everything a game?”

There’s an audible groan from behind you, and you turn to find Grim, your new furry audience member, smacking his face with his paw. “Great, just what we needed—another weirdo.”

Idia, still staring at you like you’re some kind of unholy glitch in his life’s code, manages to stammer out, “I—I can’t believe this is real. There’s no way this is real.”

You smirk. “It’s real, all right. And don’t pretend you’re not thrilled. I can practically hear your heart racing.”

His face flushes even deeper, and he clutches his tablet like it’s his last connection to sanity. “Okay, okay. You’re in Twisted Wonderland, fine. But this doesn’t mean you get to start… start messing with the plot!”

You grin. “Who says I’m here to follow the plot?”

Idia lets out a strangled noise, burying his face deeper in his hoodie. “This… this is too much. I’m not ready for this level of immersion. This is like, hardcore VR, but real! And with you here, it’s… it’s… OH MY GOD, WHAT DO I DO?!”

You put a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to look at you. “Easy. You play the game, Idia. And let me show you how fun it can get when I’m the one writing the script.”

The look of sheer panic—and excitement—on his face is priceless. "Y-You're serious?!" he squeaks, not sure whether to pass out or burst into flames from sheer embarrassment. "But, like—what if this is a permanent event?! What if I never—"

"Oh, relax," you say, poking his chest lightly. "I'll make sure we both enjoy this little 'quest.'"

There’s another groan from Grim, but you ignore him, keeping your eyes locked on the flustered mess in front of you. Idia’s practically a puddle at this point, cheeks redder than Riddle’s roses, but you know he’s loving every second of it.

“Okay,” he mutters, glancing between you and his tablet. “Okay, I can work with this. Maybe it’s not a total catastrophe. I mean, you’re here, so—wait, does that mean you’re, like… my NPC now?”

You flash him a rogue grin. “If that’s what you want, I’m all yours.”

Idia blinks. Then, with the kind of realization that only a true gamer would have, he straightens up slightly. “I-Is this… the ultimate secret route?!”

"Could be," you say, leaning in closer. "You think you can handle it?"

He stares at you, wide-eyed and flustered beyond belief, but finally, he nods—though it's more of a nervous twitch than anything. "Y-Yeah. Yeah, I-I can handle it. This is fine. Totally fine. Just… don’t, uh, don’t go rogue too much? I-I don’t think I can survive if you start rewriting my entire life!”

You laugh. “No promises, player.”

The panic in his eyes is real, but so is the smile slowly creeping onto his face. And as you stand there, facing him in this strange new world, you realize you’re both about to have a lot of fun.

"Welcome to the real game," you whisper, before pulling him into a kiss.

Idia promptly drops his tablet.

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #idia x reader #idia shroud x reader #idia #idia shroud

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babextoken · 5 months ago

Text

I don’t wanna get in your way…

Vessel x m!reader • strangers to lovers

A snowstorm. A broken heater. Two lonely guys. What could go wrong?

strangers to lovers, instalove, shy!vessel, concierge!m!reader, they’re both clueless doormats, close proximity, snowed in together, flirting, teasing, consent and checking in, making out, slight praise kink, blowjob (vessel + reader receiving), brief deep throat, “mate” as a silly pet name

taglist: @lifemod17 @glitterghost @inv3ga @adenobabe @jeriiicho @ivys-thick-juicy-thighs @milk--bones @myaudiocommentary @kittydothedishes @intake-of-breath

🖤 18+ MDNI🖤

You’re not quite sure how you and everyone else in your sleepy tourist-trap of a town missed the announcement about snowstorm, but here you are fielding calls at the check-in desk about vacancies at the cabin (there were none), if the roads were clear over there (they were not), and if you’re open (“I answered didn’t I?” But you’d never say that). You have time for half an inhale after hanging up with someone before the phone rings again. After a closed mouth scream you answer through clenched teeth with a syrupy customer service voice.

“Thank for you calling Lodges at Eden, yes we’re open and yes we’re freezing here too, how can I help you today?”

“Uhm. Well,” the man on the other line starts. You look down at the phone and see the blinking light next to “Cabin 1.” Shit. It’s a guest. “Sorry to bother, mate, but uh…the heat’s playing up in Cabin 1. Is there a chance someone can come look at it? If not it’s totally fine or-“ Shit! It’s the handsome English guy who visits each December.

You wipe a hand down your face to muffle the heavy sigh. If this guy is having heat issues, then soon the rest of cabins probably would, too. And…you’re the only one working today who’s cared to learn how to work on the heat until the HVAC company can come out. So you’d have to face him after being snippy on the phone and face the bitter cold, all in one fell swoop.

“Sure, no problem. I can be over there in 10 minutes, ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, thank you. Really, take your time.”

This dude was too polite. You know how cold it can get even when the heat is working, and it’s almost like he’s resigned to it. You get your gloves on and shrug on your heavy jacket, setting out for the cabin. When you knock on the door, you’re greeted by your too-good-for-this-world guest who is pilled in a hoodie, sweats, a beanie, and a knit scarf. A lopsided smile tugs at his lips as he keeps one arm tucked against himself.

“Hey, you got here fast.”

“Of course I did—you need help.” You walk in and are immediately hit with a blast of cold air. It’s not the HVAC was out, the heater was out, leaving the blower working overtime to emulate a meat freezer. “Fuck,” you exclaim rubbing your hands together, “sorry. That was inappropriate but holy shit it is uninhabitable in here!” This gets a little chuckle from the guy. How is he not livid right now? You go to the thermostat and attempt to override the AC with your code, but it’s no use. You’re no HVAC professional and you don’t want to bullshit the guy. “Alright, so, it’s off now, but that doesn’t mean it will necessarily warm up in here.”

The tall guy nods and sucks in his lips, pondering something. You catch yourself studying his face, the gentleness of it. He looks like he couldn’t be moved to anger in the first place. He shudders from the cold and takes a shaky breath before speaking. “Right. Makes sense. Well, in that case, could I get some extra blankets? Don’t really want to venture out for new lodging and…I doubt you even have other vacancies or…”

“How are you not ballistic right now?” You ask with a hint of wonder.

He blushes and rubs the back of his neck. “S’not your fault, mate. Genuinely, I’ll be alright with more blankets.” His face is beet red from the cold and his shyness. It’s sweet. Something stirs in your belly. Sure you have fleeting crushes on guests—sometimes they’re flash-bang thoughts of how it would be to share the cabin with them for a night, other times you wonder what it would be like to explore your little town with them, hand in hand, seeing it through new eyes. But this was a very general warm, gushy, “heart-eyes,” feeling. Maybe you just felt bad for the guy. But then again he was being more than nice…he was being sweet. You take a deep breath and bite the bullet.

“Look. I don’t feel great about just giving you some blankets and calling it good. Hell, I don’t even think our spare space heater would do much. I…I’m renting a little apartment above the concierge office…check-in…thing… the heat in there always works. Too good sometimes. Stay there for the night. Or however long you need. And I wil—“

“What about you!?” He looks at you like you’ve asked him to do something unspeakable.

“I can…stay in here or…sleep in the lobby. No one is going to come in there when I close up. Because, it’s locked, and—“ you rub your neck and stare at the ground like it’s incredibly interesting. Your new tall friend cuts you off.

“If it’s for the night, just let me sleep on the couch or something. Come on, mate. Don’t…don’t set yourself on fire to keep me warm. You don’t even know me.” There’s a pause. He mindlessly licks and bites his lower lip as he studies your face for a second. “But, seems like we could friends.”

“…Yeah. Friends,” you say, breathless from his stare. “Well…I close up in about 30 minutes, but I have to put a work order in for the HVAC so, might be close to 45 minutes before I’m back in my room. So…you could uhm…” He looks around a bit awkwardly.”

“Right, yeah, I’ll, pack my stuff. Not a lot. Just here to write and…well you didn’t ask…” he says quickly as he starts stuffing things in a backpack.

“Hah, no worries. Just come to reception when you’re ready.”

“Yeah, cheers, man. Thank you.” No man has ever given you such a sincere thank you. Not here at least. Here, you were the fix-it and go-get-it boy. People said “thank you” but that’s because they knew you were just doing what you’re told. This guy seemed to genuinely appreciate you already. It was a strange, warm feeling. It felt nice, but that didn’t mean you needed to imagine him bundled up under a blanket on your couch as he typed away at his computer or what it might feel like to warm his hands with yours. It’s just a nice, friendly feeling. At least that’s what you tell yourself.

About an hour later, you’re wondering if he’s actually coming. You run through the different scenarios. Maybe the heater fixed itself (unlikely). Maybe he found somewhere else to stay (unsafe considering the roads, but fair). Or he noticed how you looked at him for a bit too long between sentences (highly likely, valid, and worthy of banishment). But the creak of the lodge door pulls you from your worries, and there he is. He gives you the same shy lopsided smile and awkwardly stands at the check-in desk. “Hi…do you have a honeymoon suite with a hot tub and mini bar available?” He asks sheepishly. His little attempt at breaking the tension is adorable and makes you chuckle.

“I am sooo sorry, but that suite is for couples only. So unless you’ve got someone you can call…” you tease. He rolls his eyes and laughs.

“Quite the single-phobic policy. Bet you came up with that one, yeah?” he shoots right back with a cocked eyebrow.

“I did. I get the satisfaction of hating lucky, happy couples when I book them and disappointing single people when I turn them away.” You shrug. “Just bring everyone down with me.”

He snorts but his face goes back to serious and stoic. “What a charming young man. Bet the girls love that.”

“They would if they could get me,” you joke as you look at your nails. He gets your meaning immediately and shakes his head.

“Oh, so we will definitely be friends then.” You’ve never locked up the lodge faster, but you don’t make it up to your room just yet. He presses you against the door, his excitement resting between his thigh and your ass. You let out a shaky sigh as his hands run down your sides. It’s a firm grip that tightens when he leans in pants against your ear. “How big’s that bed of yours up there, hm?”

“Big enough…” you grind back into him, “for spooning. Someone on top of the other. Take your pick.” He growls against your neck and timidly lets his hand trail below your belt. “Wait!”

He pulls back quickly with his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” He looks miserable and worried, making your heart melt.

“No, no,” you shoot forward and cup his face. “I just need to know your name.” He smiles has your thumb rubs over his bottom lip. You give him your name and lean forward a bit more. “And who do I have the privilege of sharing my bed with tonight?” His hands run down your back and cups your ass.

“Call me Ves,” he purrs before placing a sweet, chaste kiss on your pout. “….was that ok,” he asks, whispering shyly. Your eyes are still squeezed shut as you process how sweet he is all while being so goddamn tempting. You can only answer by leaning back in for another kiss. His face feels perfect in your rough hands, which are weathered from the cold and having to do so much work around the lodges. But he wants you to stay put. His arms snake around you as your fingers move to hold him right behind his ears. Ves moans in your mouth and gives your ass a firm squeeze. “Fuck, mate,” he pants.

“Hmm…is that what you’re into? Playing with your ‘mates’?” You chuckle with your tongue out.

“You have no idea.”

It’s a race to your attic apartment. Ves pops you with a little spank as he gets past you on the stairs. “Idiot. You won’t know which way to go with out me,” you call up to him. Damn this weasel of a man is fast. When you get to the second story corridor, he’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a sly smirk across his perfect lips.

“Does it always take you that long?”

“Are you always that fast,” you tease back as you unlock the door. Ves steps into your humble abode and puts his stuff down. It’s much toastier in here than most of the cabins, which almost seems unfair. He looks a bit sheepish, like maybe he’s changing his mind. “Hey…alright there?”

Ves looks up with a little smile. “You’re being…outrageously kind to me. And…hot. Why me?”

The question gives you pause. You consider your answer for a bit because you’re not doing this for moral gain and certainly not just to get laid. “I’ve worked a lot of stressful shifts here. I’ve had a stressful life. You’re one of the few strangers who has never asked me for anything. You were ready to freeze to keep me ‘inconvenienced,’ which by the way was just your perspective. So I ask you this…Ves…why not you?”

This elicits an eyeroll and tsk. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“Like what?”

“The kind that…fuck…makes a pathetic man like me fall in love too fast.”

“Takes one to know one, perhaps…?”

In two quick steps he’s on you again. One hand holds the back of your head while the other snakes under your shirt. His hands are still cold, making you shiver. Ves pulls away for a second to chuckle at you before licking softly into your mouth. You capture his tongue between your lips and move as if you’re sucking him off. A throaty pathetic moan reverbs against your lips before you both stumble to the couch in a jumbled embrace. Ves stands up just to look down at you with a ravenous stare. “You want it?”

You’re out of breath as you sit lazily on the couch, head spinning. “Want…want…what?”

Ves smiles a little and his chest heaves a bit faster with his breath. “You know…don’t you.”

The thrill of finding another non-straight stranger who is your type clouded your judgements and inhibitions but it comes crashing down when you’re faced with this decision. You weren’t much of a thrill seeker like this. Hook-up culture wasn’t your thing but this felt different. Something rewarding could maybe come from this. But you also felt safe enough to say, “no. I don’t want it. I’ve never…never done it with another guy…but I know I want you, Ves. Would you still have me? Even if I’m…I’m not ready?”

The softness and tenderness in his face makes you want to cry. Is this moment even real? Ves shakes his head and chuckles softly. “You could make me sleep on this couch right now and never touch me again, and I would still wait for you to be ready.”

Your mouth quirks up in a surprised smile, your words sputtering a little as you take in the nicest thing you’ve heard from a lover. “What are you, a poet? And…why me?” you whisper.

Ves waves off your first question with a groan. “Why not you, hm?” Without moving your gaze you unbuckle your belt and start to take off your jeans. Ves kneels between your legs and takes over getting you naked. He’s not wasting anytime. You can see the flames of lust in his eyes as they land on your cock for the first time. He licks his lips and cracks his neck. “Got a preference? Hands versus mouth, that is.”

You want to say ‘anything please daddy whatever you think,’ but that’s a bit much right off the bat. “Uhm uh…no preference. Love both, honestly.”

Ves nods and grins as he moves closer. He massages your warm, hairy thighs and bites his lips as your tummy moves up and down quickly. “You like that? Muscles are tight…you work too much, huh?” He moves his hands up to lift your shirt, smiling and moaning softly as more of your skin is revealed. Leaning over, he places feather light kisses down your chest and stomach, his hoodie creating a soft, warm barrier between his body and your shaft. You’re desperate to feel him but there’s something about a guy on his knees looking cuddly and adorable and being desperate for your cock. He makes a show of kissing your belly and making his way to your lap again. He lets his left hand trail lazily along your stomach as he finally takes your cock. His eyes close but his face betrays how he really feels—he’s in heaven. A soft moan vibrates against you as he works only a bit of you at a time. This shallow mouth fucking is teasing but you feel like he’ll make it worth your while. He pulls off and lets a line of spit coat the head of your cock to keep it nice and lubed. Ves jerks your cock with a deft touch that makes your brain go blank. It looks exquisite in his wide hand…he makes it look exquisite.

“Ffffffuck, babe” you moan with your eyes rolling back. Your hand tangles with his hair when he sucks you again. You have no intention of maneuvering him, but you’re desperate to show any kind of affection. He doesn’t look up at you as he sucks you off, just closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy you. A strangled moan rips through you as Ves lowers his head further, letting the head of your cock just tap at his throat. “God…fuck Ves slow…slow down….”

Ves quickly retreats and sits back on his knees, panting. His lips are puffy and wet…he looks like a good boy. “Sorry.” You reply by sitting forward and pulling him in for a kiss. He pulls at your bottom lip with his, making your growl softly.

“Don’t apologize. You should be proud.” You move his hair a bit out of place to caress his temples. “Never apologize for being a good boy.”

Ves shakes his head and mixes a laugh with a sigh. “None of that, please.” You lean over and give him a chaste peck.

“I’m sorry. Can I make it up to you? With that Ves is on his feet pulling down his boxers and sweats. He moves to take off his hood but you stop him. “I like how it looks,” you say plainly before fixing your gaze to his throbbing cock. Before long it’s in your mouth…and he’s louder than you expected. His whimpers and grunts fill the room, interrupted only by your own moans and the occasional wet crackle of your throat being gently fucked. He can’t get his speaking voice above a whisper.

“You’re….you’re so good. Oh that’s it…fuuuuuck, love.” Ves holds your head with both hands and looks down at you. “I think you’re the good boy…you like hearing shit like that, huh?” His voice gets louder. “Like being used and praised?” He wrenches you off of him and stares at you as he tries to catch his breath. “Where’s your bed, mate?”

If you weren’t cock-drunk and totally gone for him you might be mad that he was still calling you “mate” but there was something about this chance encounter between barely-acquaintances that made it irresistible. You hop up and lead him to your room where you pull back your covers and land face first in your pillows. Ves pinned you against him, his hard cock rubbing against your ass as he writhes on you. He kisses and bites as your neck when your head falls back. His hand finds your cock again, and you revel in the warmth. “Feels s’fucking good,” you moan out. Your hand quickly shoots behind you to stroke Ves’s cock, but he stops you.

“Roll over, darling,” he growls against your skin. “Want to watch you.” You squirm and turn around to face him—he’s already stroking himself. “Show me what you like.”

“A-a-a-re you sure? You don’t want m-“

“Shh shh shh shh. Stroke yourself for me. Let’s watch each other.” You nod and bite your lip as you stroke yourself for him. After doing this an infinite number of times yourself, fucking your fist in front of Ves…it’s erotic. Pure pleasure for the sake of pleasure. He murmurs for you to “C’mere.” Desperate little kisses pepper your lips as the head of Ves’s cock rubs against your own, making your both moan into each others mouths.

“I’m not going to last long,” you huff.

“Me neither…s’fucking hot.”

“No, that’s you…”

Ves growls softly and quickly lifts his hoodie. “I’m imagining what you’d look like…ffffuck….bent over for me.” As he soon as he voices his fantasy, you’re imagining it too and bucking your hips into you fist harder.

“Keep talking.”

“You’d be…so…so good for me,” he whispers, “so fun to play with…just…fuck reach around and—“

He’s cut off by your gasping moan and how hot your cum is running over his knuckles…soon enough he’s cumming, too.

After you get cleaned up, you come to a little. What did you just do? Ves notices how solemn you’ve become and rubs your back. He asks if you want him to leave. You lean in, holding his face, and kiss him deeply. “Stay with me. Let’s figure this out together.”

Ves threads your hair through his fingers and studies your face. “Together.”

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