#I’d also let him raise my kids if I had any

[sinnerista]

Jannik santo subito

[gghostwriter]

You’re the Risk, I’ll Take it

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times Spencer followed advice and the one time he didn't (or as I'd like to better explain it, the three times Spencer fails to flirt and the one time it worked)

Warning: fluff! Just fluff!

A/n: I wanted to write something cute this time with Season 1 Spencer in mind--one of the best eras if you ask me. Hopefully I did him justice in this. The idea of this cute baby boy trying to flirt is too precious honestly. Also, if a guy did the last act for me, I'd fold like a lawn chair, yep. Risk by Gracie Abrams was on repeat while I was writing this and no proof reading was done. Let me know what you think!

Main masterlist

The first move Spencer tried was advised by Derek Morgan, the renowned ladies man

“Kid, admit it. You like her,” Morgan pestered him with a slight smile on his face. 

Spencer scoffed, trying to throw him off from the truth but monumentally failing. “S-she’s my closest friend. We joined the team at the same time, of course I feel most comfortable with her,” he noted his companion’s eyebrows raising higher and higher with each word. “Plus, she likes hearing what I say even if it has no relation to the case. She asks me questions and genuinely remembers.”

Now it was Morgan’s turn to scoff. “You could be talking about Star Trek and it’s physics mistakes and she’ll still hang on to every word you say.” 

“Actually, there aren’t that many scientific errors in Star Trek. Especially considering—”

“Reid.” 

“Right,” he nodded once, trying to push away the urge to continue further. “That still doesn’t mean I like her.” 

Morgan tapped the wheel twice before turning to face his partner. “Then answer me this. How do you feel when she walks through the office doors?” 

“Happy, I get the same feeling when I see you or Elle come in too,” he found his fingers very interesting then. Like they held the key to unlocking the mysteries of Dark Matter and the answer to the controversial scientific theory ‘Do parallel universe exist?’. He wasn’t telling the whole truth—didn’t want to because how could he, a man of science, explain the other bodily reactions he has when you walk in a room. How he hears his heart stutter in his chest with just a glimpse of you—the first time it happened, he thought nothing of it, but by the third, he considered making an appointment with a specialist for possible heart arrhythmia. How he sees the room brighten when you smile in his direction—perhaps light sensitivity, and how he feels his body heat up when you utter the words ‘Good morning, Spence.’—possibly hot flashes. Self diagnosis that he ruled out once he found you to be the common denominator. That left him with a riddle, a personal conundrum he lost countless of sleep over trying to solve.

“That’s a lie, Reid. You can’t be that happy to see me. You never blush like a tomato when I enter the room. For Greenaway, I could see it but for me, nu-uh,” he argued back. “Okay, what about when she’s not there, what do you feel then?” 

“Sad, similar to how I’d react with you and Elle,” he blurted out another half truth. Another surface level answer that doesn’t fully cover how lost he feels without your comforting presence beside him, how gloomy any room he enters in without you in it, and how incomplete his days were without hearing your voice. 

Morgan snickered. “Lies, you have to learn how to lie better to fool an FBI profiler, Reid. You don’t think I—the team, notice that you’re quieter when she isn’t on the case with us?”

“Wait. Wait, the whole team?” His voice goes up an octave. You were part of the team, did that mean you knew of the effect you had on him too? “D-Does everyone have the same idea as you do? Everyone?” 

“Not everyone, kid. Your secret is still safe,” He smiled wide like a cat that caught the canary. “So it’s true then, you like her.” 

Spencer knew there was no escape from trap, he was just glad that his secret still remained classified from the other party involved. His shoulders sagged as he nodded to confirm Morgan’s findings.

“So what’s your play then?”

His head whipped to face his companion so fast he felt his meticulously styled hair escape the confines of his ears. “Play? There’s no play. Nothing. I’m not going to do anything and this conversation stays between us.” 

“Oh c’mon lover boy, you have to do something,” Morgan challenged. “Y’know she likes you back, right?” 

“No she doesn’t! I mean, why would she?” Spencer rambled on, unable to comprehend what Morgan was saying. “She’s her—beautiful, smart, and cool. Every case we get, there’s at least one police officer hitting on her. And I’m me—I talk too much and get awkward in every situation. The exact opposite!”

“Reid, don’t sell yourself short. She likes you, trust me on this.” He paused, listening to the update on the intercom before continuing on. “So here’s what you’re going to do. Compliment her outfit, girls appreciate that. Easy enough, don’t you think?”

Spencer really didn’t think so after all he had the tendency to go off on a tangent whenever he talks to you but he agrees nonetheless. If Morgan believes he could do it then he couldn’t mess it up, right?

———

Wrong. It was wrong to take Morgan’s advice. Never mind he can recall everything he has ever read, never mind he has an IQ of 187. What good were his talents if he, Dr. Spencer Reid, couldn’t string the proper sentences along?

It started when you walked into the office wearing this light yellow blouse that made you more radiant than he thought possible. It was as if the a ray of sun had graced the bullpen and stunned his mind into silence, rendering him tongue-tied. All his monologues and hypothesis bouncing around his overactive brain fell away and the only thing he could think of was how pretty you look.

Morgan cleared his throat, bringing him back to the living. Spencer averted his awestruck gaze and busied himself with an imaginary lint on his red sweater. 

“Hey Y/N, did anything good this weekend?” Morgan asked as you settled into your desk adjacent to his.

You shrugged nonchalantly and teased back. “I bet it wasn’t good as yours, Morgan. Picked anyone up last Friday or are your charms no longer working?”

“Huh, i see where this is going. Somebody woke up on the wrong side of bed today.”

Morgan chanced a peek at Spencer and internally groaned. How you didn’t notice the kid’s crush on you was beyond him—all the staring and blushing he does when you’re near was a dead giveaway.

“Reid. Reid,” Morgan called out.

He closed his mouth and gulped. “Hm, what?” 

Morgan pointedly stared at him and titled his head towards your direction. A movement lost to you as you noted Elle leaving Gideon’s office.

Spencer opened his mouth to catch your attention but before he could even utter your name, Elle intervened. “Question for you, the foot path killer. Why’d he stutter?”

You swiveled to face her, not having caught Spencer’s intent to speak to you. The unit chief then called them in for a case—an arson case in a university campus. His shoulders drooped as they rushed to the jet afterwards with no chance of small talk. 

When there was a lull in the plane—case discussion finished, he steeled his already apprehensive nerves and took the chance, quickly wishing he hadn’t.

“S-so, your shirt’s yellow,” he stated out loud like it was some sort of revelation. 

“Yes,” you drawled out, unsure as to where he was going with this. “That’s right, Spencer.”

He drummed his fingers on the table and continued on. “Did you know that airplanes tend to avoid the color yellow as it causes dizziness and nausea? A number of studies have shown those exact results and that’s why it’s almost never used in interiors of various forms of transportation and rarely use in advertising. It’s like how the red is the most common color used by restaurants as it psychologically makes the viewer hungry.”

You looked down on your top. Yellow was one of your favorites and you specifically chose this as Penelope said and you quote, it looks good on you, brings out your eyes. Boy genius would probably react to it too so naively you splurged on it. But this—this wasn’t the response you were hoping for. “Spence, are you saying my shirt is making you feel nauseous?”

He blushed and stammered out a strong refusal. “What, no! No! I—I meant to say—you, you look nice.”

You giggled under your breath, finding his long-winded route to giving you a compliment cute. “Nice nice or airsickness nice?” 

“Nice! Just nice!” He defended on, his voice cracking at the end. He caught Morgan’s wide eyed gaze then as if he couldn’t believe what train wreck he just witnessed. 

Cheeks heating up further, Spencer slouched in his seat and busied himself with the files wishing that he could build a memory eraser so he could wipe the events from his and the team’s minds or better yet, a time machine to redo the whole thing all over again.

The second move Spencer tried was advised by Elle Greenaway, the new recruit

“Do you think it’s weird that I knew that ballad?” He questioned during one of their cases in San Diego. It bothered him since the start of the case. How Morgan had teased him about his incapability of asking out the opposite sex. Never mind that you defended him right back, that’s a lie, it made him feel special that you did but the joke was still true. A cold stone truth. 

Elle laughed, flipping her phone repeatedly on the table while waiting for the unsub to take the bait. “I don’t know how you know half the stuff you know, but I’m glad you do.”

“Do you think that’s why I can’t get a date?” He asked as he fiddled with the unfinished Rubik’s cube in his hands.

“Have you ever asked her out?”

There was no need to ask who Elle was referring to, everyone knew of his innocent—well maybe not so innocent at times specifically during his state of dreaming—crush for the second youngest member of the team. He shifted his eyes to focus a few tables before his—at you, sitting beside JJ. “No."

“That’s why you can’t get a date.” 

One of the precincts phone then rang, it was the unsub, causing him to table that conversation in his vast memory. 

———

There’s an English saying that states ‘the second time is the charm’ and Spencer was hoping there were some truth to the idiom even with no scientific explanation to back it up. 

A few cases after San Diego, he got an opening that he was unexpectedly looking for. The team was on their way back from a case in Virginia. It was late and the profilers were all tucked in their little corners of the jet decompressing while you and Spencer were huddled on the sofa quietly discussing Doctor Who. 

“How could you say your favorite is the Ninth Doctor when you haven’t even seen the older episodes?” He rambled, clearly he would have to do something about your limited knowledge in the great universe of Doctor Who. He’d like to explain it all, 695 episodes of the classic era to you. He’d take any topic really just to have your interest.

You stared into his hazel speckled eyes and smiled, amused by his reaction. “It’s a bit hard to catch up on a show that’s been around since the 70s. Plus, it’s a challenge to look for copies.” 

“Actually, the show started in the 60s—1963, to be exact,” he clarified. “Garcia has copies we could borrow and watch together. If that’s—” he cleared his throat and clenched his fists closed, feeling his nails dig into his palms. “—that’s alright with you. If—if not, there’s a convention happening this weekend. I have an extra ticket, if you want to come with—only if you’re not busy, I mean.”

“And risk you spoiling every episode to me? I’d rather watch it alone, if you don’t mind.”

That dragged his optimism to a crash as if a twenty ton weight landed on his chest, rendering him immovable. Of course you were going to say no. There was no proof that you’d reciprocate his interests—he inwardly cursed himself for believing otherwise.

“But, I’d like to go with you to the convention,” you said and silently added as your date to yourself, shifting in your seat with a blush blooming on your cheeks at the thought. “Always wanted to go to one. If you’re fine with me not being in a costume. I think it’ll be too late to find one, don’t you think?”

Just like that, the weight on his chest lifted, making him feel weightless with glee. A wide smile grew on his face, threatening to burst his cheeks as he shook his head. “That’s alright! But you—you can always dress up as Rose!”

You titled your head to the side. “Rose?” 

“You know, the Ninth Doctor’s companion?”

“I know who she is, Spence. I just thought you didn’t watch the revived series?”

He softly scoffed. “I never said that! I watched it too, mainly to compare it to the classics but I’ve seen it.”

You leaned in, wanting to ask about his opinion on it. “Well, what do you think? I happen to be part of the minority who think the actor who reprised the role did alright.”

He liked seeing you like this. It made him feel like a puppy who had his owner’s undivided attention. All wide eyed and interested in his conjectures as to why the actor was alright himself but the problems were his short stint—making people vilify him over that decision—and the material some of the writers came up with. He appreciated you nodding along and supplying your own thoughts on the subject. It warmed his heart that here was a beautiful, smart, and cool person—way out of his league, he might add—giving her precious time away to discuss a nerdy sci-fi show that he could not rant and rave to about to anyone on the team, except for Penelope, and she’s rarely on the field with them. 

Your show of interest made him feel seen. Not as an agent with 3 PHDs, not as a genius with 187 IQ, but rather as a person with a right to express himself and occupy space. He wasn’t Agent Spencer Reid with you nor Dr. Spencer Reid, he was just Spencer who likes to watch Doctor Who and read literature in their original language. 

The third move Spencer did was proposed by Penelope Garcia, the spirited tech analyst 

“What do you mean you took her to a convention? For a date?” Penelope squeaked out, unable to comprehend the logic behind the genius’ actions.

“She said she always wanted to go,” Spencer stated as the elevator stopped on the fourth floor. He had fun over the weekend. Going around booths with you, listening to invited guest panels talk about the behind the scenes, explaining the reference every costume that you’ve pointed out, and just basking in your presence beyond cases. It was a memory he had replayed over and over after it had ended. It occupied his whole mind, and that’s saying a lot, causing him to do nothing and sit in his leather sofa and smile like a lunatic during the rest of the weekend.

“Well yeah, but that’s not date material! A date is supposed to be intimate—you and I go to conventions together, do you count that as a date?” 

“What? No! No, of course not!” 

“Exactly, boy wonder. Then what makes you think she’ll count that as a date?” She countered back as she entered her office with Spencer in tow. 

Silence. Oh.

Penelope sighed, having read the despair painting his face. “Did you at least dress up as the Ninth Doctor?”

“What? No. No, I went as the Fourth Doctor. I even hand-knitted the scarf myself.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before repeating what she just heard. “You didn’t dress up as her Doctor?”

“No,” he paused, unsure where she was going with this. “Should I had?”

“Yes! Yes, you should have!” Penelope slapped his arm out of frustration. “Why didn’t you call me once she said yes? We could have talked game plan or strategy or at least have gotten you a leather jacket to match her choice of companion.”

“Oh, I messed up then, didn’t I?” He slumped despondently on the office chair. “You—you don’t think she thought of it as a date at all?”

She played with her feathered pen, trying to find a way to salvage it for Spencer. “Did you take her out to dinner after?”

He shook his head, finally realizing his mistake.

“Oh Spencer,” she approached gently. “I can scoop for details with Y/N later on and report back to you?”

He shook his head. It didn’t feel right to have Penelope betray your trust and go behind your back over a mistake that he made. You were a honest person and you deserved to be treated with respect and reverence even though all he wanted now was peer into your viewpoint of the date—not date—and figure out once and for all if you saw him as anything beyond a co-worker and a friend. 

“Hm, I think I might just a solution,” Penelope blurted out of the blue. 

He looked up with a sliver of hope blooming in his chest. Maybe third time’s the charm. Besides, Penelope was the colleague you spent most of your time out with. You once mentioned that you considered her your best friend, besides from him of course. 

“You can bake her a batch of cookies! No one can say no to that,” she excitedly explained, believing it to be full proof—except for the fact that he doesn’t know how to bake. He wants to ask you out on a date but not to the expense of burning his whole apartment building down. 

“I can’t—I can’t bake, Garcia,” he squeaked out. “Did you know that 44% of all reported home fires are caused by cooking and baking. Those fires have resulted in an average of 470 civilian deaths and 4,150 civilian—”

She interrupted. “I’ll give you my recipe and detailed instructions to follow. That’ll make it easy peasy for you, boy genius.”

“C-can’t I just buy from her favorite bakery instead?”

“No can do, Doctor. Her favorite cookies just so happen to be my creation. She told me so herself.”

“Well, can’t I just ask you to make it for me? I’ll buy the ingredients!”

“Nope,” she dragged out her refusal. “Think of it as an act of service to her. Plus don’t you think it’s highly romantic when she finds out that you baked them yourself?” She swooned just thinking about it.

“Romantic? It won’t be romantic when I burn my apartment down, Garcia.”

She sighed. “Fine, I’ll supervise if you want. This weekend, granted if we’re free. But you—” she pointed her feathered pen at him. “—better be prepared and I’m just supervising, okay? I’m not baking it myself.”

He sighed. At least having Garcia around would make it easier.

———-

It did not in fact make it easier. Spencer burnt two batches before six pieces were considered edible. Garcia couldn’t understand, hell, he also couldn’t. Baking was precise and from his scientific viewpoint, it was a lot like chemistry. He loved science and anything academic, so how is it that he failed miserably, twice, when it came to baking? 

He shook his head as he entered the office. The first one—he stole a glance at Hotch’s office and saw movement—correction, the second one arriving early. Sometimes he wondered if the unit chief ever goes home, first in and last out.

He settled in his seat before promptly fidgeting from anticipation. Statistically speaking, you arrive earlier than Morgan or Elle which gave him enough time to gift the paper bag of cookies sitting hidden in his satchel without bringing attention to and embarrassing himself. He’d like to have little to no audience if he ever does mess it up for the third time. 

He brought out the cookies, afraid they’ll get crushed between his hardbound books, and placed them on your desk before standing to wash his clammy hands and make coffee. Counter intuitive of him to do as he was already a bundle of nerves and by drinking caffeine he was doubling that but maybe the smell would calm him before shooting up his energy by drinking.

As he exited the mens room, Penelope stepped out of the elevator and squealed. “Is she here? Is she? Did I miss it?”

He shook his head vigorously, trying to silence her excited glees. “No, she’s not here yet. She’ll—” he looked at his watch and ran the numbers. “—be here soon. I’m about to brew coffee. Do you want some?” He opened the door for both of them to enter the bullpen.

“Ick, no thanks,” Penelope said, scrunching her nose at the thought of drinking even a sip before scurrying away to her cave. “I’d rather not ruin my taste buds on bad coffee.”

He laughed and turned towards the kitchenette. With the coffee brewing, he drummed his fingers on the counter and mentally rehearsed what he would say to you. If he practiced, there’s less chance of messing it up like the first time, right? In his state of concentration, he missed you entering the office in all of your beautiful glory.

“Ooh cookies!” you exclaimed as you opened the unknown package on your table.

Spencer abruptly turned, hitting his side on the corners as he did. His eyes widened as he registered you holding the unsigned paper bag of treats on your desk. 

“They must be from Penny,” You continued on, oblivious to his presence and the devastation your remark caused him. Of course, he’d find another way to mess it up. You glanced around and your smile widened as you took in his handsome presence. “Oh hey Spence! Look, Penny made me cookies!” You tip-toed out of excitement. 

He smiled at your enthusiasm for something as simple as treats in the morning. The giggle you gave out as you entered the kitchenette was enough for him to slightly care less for the truth. He loved bringing out the happiness in you. It was like his own personal sunshine shining down on him, soaking him with vitamin D and boosting his overall sense of wellbeing. “Do you want coffee with that? It’s still hot,” he offered. 

You tapped the side of your hips with his as a sign of good will. “Thanks, Spence! This is turning out to be a great day, don’t you think?”

He watched as you busied yourself with putting cream and sugar in your of cup and sighed wistfully. “I think so too.”

And the last move Spencer did was recommended by no one but himself, the awkward 187 genius

With all three acts not delivering, he promised to try one last time without any outside interference besides from yours in his memory. You always did tell him to be himself in any situation, no matter how much he stumbled through any awkward situation—always there giving him a pat on the back for encouragement. 

Over the weekend, he spent his time reading two of your favorite books—which didn’t take much but he did read them again and again, regardless of his eidetic memory, trying to understand why these specific books were your comfort. Always pushed within the confines of your go bag, dog-eared and brown from age. He wanted to know how they’ve become an extension of you and how it had shaped you to the woman he has fallen in love with. 

He found himself hunched over his dining table, underlining sentences that made him think of you, scribbling away on the margins (and sometimes on post its too), and tabbing the written pages with a variety of colors that each represent an emotion. The act in it of itself made him feel closer to you than he thought possible. Lines in the books that made him think, ah so this was what formed your kind spirit. This is why your empathy knew no bounds. And this is why your beauty is inside and out.  

Spencer laid down to rest, anxious for the next day, Monday, to come. His heart threatening to beat out of his chest but his mind oddly calm as if it had a precognition that everything would turn out just right.

———

You arrived earlier than he did, throwing him off balance. 

“Hey Spence!” You greeted with a smile. “I got you a croissant and some coffee from that shop near my place.”

He blushed and stammered out a thank you. You were wearing a deep purple blouse that matched the scarf around his neck—the birthday gift you’ve given. He was no believer of the mystics but he took all of these as a sign from the stars. There was no way he would mess this up now.

“I—I got you something too,” he looked inside his satchel, hands shaking from it all. Gods, he wished this would go well or else, he might just die from embarrassment. “It’s nothing much but—I read your two favorite books and just—I wanted to discuss it with you,” he brought out the tabbed copies and presented them to you. “These are for you. I know you have copies of your own but I-I put my own notes on which lines reminded me of you.”

Your face turned red at the notion behind it all. Here was the BAU genius, the certified lover of the classics and the academia, the man who had your affections since day one, reading two contemporary literatures just for him to present you a gift like no other. You reached out and hugged the precious copies to your chest. 

“Thank you, no one’s ever done this for me before,” you breathed out, falling deeper into attraction with the perfection in front of you. “ Hey Spence, I may sound delusional asking this and you can say no if you want to but—” you visibly gulped, unaware of the audience nearby. “—would you like to have dinner with me? I make a mean lasagna.”

He turned red and vigorously nodded. “Y-Yes. Yes, I’d love to have dinner with you.”

You giggled, sounding like wind chimes to his ears. He did too, giggle I mean, from the triumph of finally knowing that his feelings were willingly reciprocated.

“Finally, you love birds!” Morgan shouted as he swung his arm around Spencer. “Didn’t know how much we could take from this pretty boy—” pointing at him “asking for advice and you—” pointing at you “—pretty girl is as dense as a rock. Tell me again how’d you end up as profiler with those observation skills.” 

A hand whacked him at the back. “Way to ruin the moment, Morgan.” Elle chided before turning to Spencer with a smile. “See told you, you could get a date.”

[ham1lton]

MISS BAD MEDIA KARMA

pairings: (alleged) charles leclerc x reader. lando norris x reader. george russell x reader. (platonic) sebastian vettel x reader.

warnings: misogynistic media and comments.

summary: after a night out with your fellow drivers, the media is alight with rumours and speculation about your romantic life. most people would call a pr meeting, you go through the funniest rumours on instagram live and rate them out of ten.

author’s note: i’m still taking questions/asks/requests so please send some in! also as usual, there is a poll at the end so please vote!

— part of my maneater series ꕤ

START INSTAGRAM LIVE. (20K WATCHING)

Y/N: hi guys! hi! how is everyone? how are you doing?

user1: Y/N NOTICE ME!

user2: y/n girl u look hungover as hell 😭

Y/N: am i hungover? perhaps. that’s probably why i’m doing this. jo is going to kill me but whatever.

user3: what are you planning on doing? 😭

Y/N: after yesterday’s… events. there have been a lot of rumours about me and my fellow drivers that have been spread around social media. so let’s talk through them and rate them out of ten.

user7: ain’t this a pr disaster?

user8: you probably shouldn’t do this.

landonorris: LMFAOOOOOO DO IT

Y/N: lando? how are you not hungover from last night? i’ll start with you. apparently according to this thread by twitter user y/nando, the two of us are secretly engaged to be married. okay first of all, why? second of all, no. i’m sorry. that isn’t happening any time soon. also, my schedule is too packed to be thinking about marriage plans. this one is 2/10 because c’mon.

landonorris: i’m searching that thread right now.

landonorris: wait lol why is this kinda accurate… are you sure we’re not engaged?

user7: LMFAOOOOOO

Y/N: we’re supposed to be EXTINGUISHING the rumours, not adding to them??? we are not engaged. we’re just friends. barely that if anything.

user8: BOOOOOOOOO

y/nando: it’s okay :) you’ll see that you’re perfect for each other one day.

Y/N: will we? anyways. next rumour. according to some monaco newspaper, charles and i have a secret child. this is apparently backed up by some anonymous sources.

landonorris: BOOOOO we get some shitty engagement rumour and you and charles get a child. i want a redo!

charles_leclerc: don’t deny our child y/n 😔

user6: y’all are MESSY 😭

user9: CHARLESY/N SUPREMACY 😍

georgerussell63: end the live y/n 😁👍🏻

Y/N: what is this photo? this is supposed to be proof of my pregnancy? i was just bloated from an evening of indulging at this amazing italian restaurant. it was gorgeous. whoever used this photo is dead wrong for that. this one is 5/10 cause i feel self conscious.

user12: no deadass 😭 if i was famous i would have had a million pregnancy rumours by now.

user68: no charlesy/n baby? BOOO!

Y/N: another one. george and i were spotted buying baby clothes in london. apparently george is me and charles’ baby’s godfather. there is no baby! charles and i don’t have a kid. so george is not the godfather!

georgerussell63: wait… why not? i would be a great godfather actually. i am offended.

user9: george going from telling y/n to switch off the live to being offended he isn’t the godfather of her alleged baby is crazy 😭

Y/N: also why was i shopping with george and not my alleged baby daddy? charles you’re a deadbeat to our non-existent child and that’s why this newspaper is saying that george is raising my kid?

charles_leclerc: apologies to leclerc jr but no way i’m letting george raise him.

georgerussell63: i’m not ready to be a stepdad but c’mon i’d be a great one.

user4: george isn’t the stepdad, he’s the dad that stepped up!

logansargeant: i’m upset that i haven’t been included in these rumors.

Y/N: if i was gonna ask anyone to be my baby’s stepdad it would be oscar. this rumour is 3/10 because it’s so unbelievable.

oscarpiastri: NOOOOOOOO 😰

user9: HELP???

user67: i’m watching this while doing my makeup. y/n is my favourite influencer!

user78: i was watching your vlog when i saw the notification!

Y/N: did you enjoy this vlog? for people who haven’t seen it yet, it’s detailing my offseason with my friends and family! we travelled a little and i did some work with my sponsorships! so check it out. we have some very interesting camera people.

user65: can’t believe you had the usher do your camera work for your superbowl vlog.

user8: you met beyoncé, you never gonna fail!

user67: be honest, did you faint at the sight of all the big celebs?

lewishamilton: y/n, this is all very interesting but maybe you shouldn’t be doing this? - sebastian.

Y/N: seb?? what are you doing here? and why are you on lewis’ account? don’t you have your own?

lewishamilton: i lost my login information 😅 and i got a message from charles telling me to shut this down - sebastian.

Y/N: what a snitch…

user23: he mad y/n didn’t accept their child 😭

Y/N: speaking of sebastian, here is my favourite rumour. that sebastian is my father and i’m his secret lovechild.

youryoungersis: wait…. is that why we look so different? you have a different dad???

lewishamilton: i’m not that much older than you? how can i be your dad? i’m only 13 years older than you! do i look that old? - sebastian, NOT your father.

user7: HELPSOSJSSJ

user5: NOT HIM CLARIFYING 😭😭

Y/N: that one is funny but no. we don’t even look alike! i hear a lot that we have the same mannerisms but that’s probably because i practically grew up around the guy. i’m rating this one…. 7/10.

lewishamilton: grew up around not with! - sebastian, NOT her father.

user2: BRO WE GET IT 😭😭😭😭

Y/N: so basically, time for the last one. this one is definitely the most out of pocket one.

alex_albon: BOOOOO I MISSED MOST OF IT

danielricciardo: 🤣🤣🤣

user98: HELSPSOSJ i’m laughing so hard.

Y/N: oh hi jo! how did you get in? WAIT!-

INSTAGRAM LIVE ENDED. (98K WATCHING)

[rileyslibrary]

pretty pretty please 🩶

imagine ghost is forced to speak at a school’s career fair because he’s out on medical, and reader gets sent with him to chaperone. (i.e. make sure he doesn’t scare any kids to 💀. and also maybe to feed him some slightly manipulative praises so he stays in a good mood lmao)

———————————————————————

You’re both standing in the principal’s office. The school was kind enough to offer you a private room since kids are a little rowdy today, and Ghost isn’t very fond of tiny hands tagging at his uniform and asking him “how many people he has killed”.

You’re holding two balaclavas; one is black, while the other is a deep shade of army green.

“It’s either this one or that one.” You say while raising both to his eye level.

He pushes your hands down and points to his skull mask. “No.” He states. “I’ll stick with the one I’m wearing.”

You frustratedly shake the balaclavas to your sides. “Come on, Lieutenant,” you plead, “you’ll scare the kids.”

“Have you seen kids these days?” he asks, raising his hands. “These fuckers are not afraid of anything!”

“Oh god,” You wince and toss the balaclavas on the principal’s desk. You shake your index finger at his face like a teacher disciplining a misbehaving student. “Don’t you dare to swear in front of them!”

“Have you heard, kids—”

“—these days.” You cut him off with a flick of the wrist. “Yes, but there’s no need to reinforce bad behaviour.”

He lets out a long exhale and places his hands on his waist. He begins pacing around the principal’s office, swearing under his breath. You’re trying to figure out whether he needs to let it all out before his big speech or if he’s cursing the moment he has agreed to do this.

He pauses in front of a painting hanging next to a window overlooking the school’s playground. He slouches and places one hand on his lower back, rubbing his injury.

You approach him from behind and gently grasp his forearm.

“Hey,” you whisper, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he replies sternly. “Never mind.”

“Are you in pain? Please talk to me.”

“I’m not in pain!” He protests. “In fact, I wasn’t in pain to begin with, when the medics decided that I was,” he makes air quotes with his fingers, “temporarily unfit for duty.”

You place a palm on his lower back and begin rubbing it. He relaxes at your touch and puts one hand on the wall to support his weight.

“You talk about not reinforcing bad behaviour,” he murmurs, “but I’m not the best role model either.”

“Bullshit!” You scowl.

“Seriously,” he insists, “I highly doubt I’d be here talking to kids about their future if I hadn’t been injured.”

He’s correct, but he doesn’t need to know that, especially now, as you wait to enter a classroom full of kids. Any other team member would be far more qualified for this role. Gaz is such a cool guy that most kids would deem him a god. Price feels like the father you wish you had when he talks, and Soap can adapt to anyone he speaks to. Even you would be a better fit for this year’s career fair. But, Ghost? No, not at all.

“Come on, Simon,” you say as you continue rubbing his back. “It’s less about ‘being a role model’ and more about relating to them.”

“How am I supposed to relate to them?” He wonders, “My childhood was nothing like theirs.”

“How do you know?”

He looks at you and motions towards the window. “Look at them,” he says, “they’re full of life.”

“Not all of them are like that, Ghost; some are putting on a show.” You explain, and he turns to look at you again. “They look all jolly, but they might struggle at home or school. Worse, they can’t admit what’s happening behind closed doors because they’re either ordered to remain silent or not understand it themselves.”

He huffs and shakes his head. “Now I can relate to that.” He murmurs.

“See? You need to spot these kids and indirectly talk to them.”

“Spot?” He asks. “How do I spot them?”

“You mean to tell me you’re trained to spot targets from miles away but can’t see when a child suffers in silence?” You ask back. “Plus, it takes one to know one.”

He nods. “And what should I communicate to these kids?” He asks. “How do I help them?”

“By showing them that there’s something better waiting for them out there.”

“Don’t be naive, Y/N. How is what we do better than what they’re going through right now?”

“It’s not about the military, Simon.” You elaborate. “It’s about giving them another chance. They deserve to know there are options other than turning into their drug-addicted mother or alcoholic father.” You lean forward so he can meet your gaze. “Someone gave you a second chance, right?”

He closes his eyes and ponders your words. You tilt your head at him, trying to predict what he’ll say next so you can respond quickly.

But he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he straightens up and takes a deep breath. “You know,” he begins, “I gave one of those speeches to a school a few years ago.”

“Oh!” You cheer and pat him on the back twice. “Did you, now?”

“Lysychansk, Ukraine.” He recalls, “I was being held hostage with a bunch of kids.”

“Tell me more about it,” you say, sitting on the principal’s desk and playing with a pink highlighter. He begins narrating his story, and you can tell he’s becoming more confident as he realises he’s spoken to children before, albeit in a very different context, but who cares? What matters is that he is becoming more at ease with his “previous experience.”

You, in turn, try to give him your full attention, but now that his doubts have subsided, your primary concern is that mask of his. He needs to take it off.

“See? You’re far more experienced than any of us!” you shout. “And in that setting? My god! None of us would have been able to do such a thing!”

He chuckles and looks proudly out the window at the children playing in the school’s playground. He seems to be looking forward to it now.

“Hey, um, sir?”

He shifts his focus to you.

“Your mask, sir; It’s dirty,” you say as you point to his cheek.

He puts his hands on his mask. “Where?” He yells.

“It’s right….” You get up from the desk and take a step closer to him, inspecting his mask. You raise the marker and draw a bright pink line across his cheek, “...there.”

He immediately places his hand on his cheek, looks at the highlighter in your hand, and then back at you.

“You... motherfucker...” he murmurs.

You move away from him and stand behind the desk.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t let you go out with that mask on; the parents will be furious.” You point to the balaclavas on the principal’s desk. “You do, however, have two other options! Take your pick, and I’ll see you in class in 5 minutes!” And with that, you rush out of the principal’s office and into the school’s corridor.

You enter the classroom and greet the kids with a smile, trying to hide your nervousness. Walking towards the back where the parents are seated, your mind starts racing; Is he trying to choose a mask, or is he cleaning up your mess? What if he’s so furious that he doesn’t show up, leaving you to give the speech? Worse, what if he enters the classroom and takes his anger out on you?

But, the door opens, and Ghost walks in. Your eyes widen, and your jaw drops. He’s not wearing any mask. Not the black one, not the green one, not the skull—with the pink streak—mask on. Nothing.

You observe him moving around; despite his lack of disguise, he maintains his composure. He greets everyone in the room, smiles, waves back at the kids and stands next to the teacher. You let out a relieved exhale through pierced lips. This is going well, thank god.

As the teacher introduces Ghost to the class, you turn to give him a thumbs up, and his eyes lock with yours. There’s a faint smirk playing on his lips, and your heart skips a beat as he silently mouths something in your direction: “You’ll pay for this.”

———————————————————————

A/N: YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS, ANON! I was forcing myself to take a break from writing, only to be slapped by an inspiration wave. Hope you liked it, though; I had fun making it.

[maxlarens]

I got a lot to say so it might be long,

starting with, thank you for the Charles smau and the Lando fic <3

it took me time to choose an emoji lol but I've been doing an internship and time goes by way too quickly, but I decided to go for the strawberry one 🍓

and since you said you wanted to write for driver! reader, and that she was very intense about driving, maybe you can write something about her racing while she's sick/not feeling well but she still wins the race

woo hi again!!! literally no big deal! i hope ur internship is going well, it’s awesome that you’re doing one!! but yeah literally real life is always the priority as much as i’d also like to spend all my time on here lol. but anyway yay the strawberry is super cute 🍓🥺

and YES lol driver!reader is consuming my thoughts right now. i have other things i should be writing instead of this but i smashed this out in a few days😭 i decided not to make it a win because i have a thing brewing for driver!readers first win and i didn’t want to use up all my ideas for that. anyway!!! as usual thank u for the ask and pls enjoyyy 🤗

OP: extraordinary machine

pairing(s): oscar piastri x mercedes driver!reader

summary: you push yourself to your limits. (also sorry i simply don't know enough technical terms about racing for this to be fully accurate but i hope it works)

word count: 3.4k+

Here is a fact— you’ve got a fever of 39.4 degrees.

Here is another, indisputable fact— you’re racing in Imola today.

The fever had come on overnight after a persistent tickle in your throat all weekend. A mildly sore throat had turned rapidly to a snotty nose, full body chills and sweat pouring off you like you’d just run a marathon. You’re wearing a puffer jacket over your racing suit and it’s twenty-nine degrees out. You feel freezing, you feel delirious, and you’re eating Sour Patch Kids by the handful to keep the sugar rush going. Your race engineer, Rachel, keeps telling you that it’s okay if you can’t race. George can step in, I promise. You keep telling her I’m fine. I’m fine. I can race. But the expression on her face says she doesn’t believe you.

You’re telling practically everyone who’ll listen that you’re getting in that fucking car today. Rachel, George, your mum who keeps calling. Lewis keeps looking at you like you’re about to keel over and die and you want to scream at him you did this! Brazil 2015. You had a fever. You got on the podium. If I can’t do this and you can, what does that mean? But you don’t because that’s your 39.4-degree fever talking and this isn’t about being better than Lewis. It’s about knowing without a doubt that you can still get in that car and race your ass off.

Your phone keeps buzzing with texts from Susie that reassure you that you’d be disappointing no one at all if you had to let George take over this race. You’re not letting down women everywhere and you’re not letting down the team. I know Susie, you keep saying, but I’m still racing.

You know you’ve got to convince Toto when Rachel starts a hurried conversation with George and he starts grabbing his fireproofs like it’s a sure thing he’ll be driving in your place. Bundled up in your coat like it’s the middle of winter, you stomp over to Toto’s office and barge in.

“I’m racing,” you tell him without any preamble.

His head snaps to look at you, expression only mildly surprised— not that you would even notice if you didn’t spend so much time around him. He gives you a once over, eyes lingering pointedly on your jacket and then he raises his eyebrows, “It is twenty-nine degrees outside.”

You suck your teeth in frustration, “I know. The car will be hot. I can race.”

He frowns.

You plead, “Toto. Do not take me out of that car. I can do this.”

He shakes his head, “I can see you sweating from here. You’re not well.”

You shake your head frantically, ignoring how your vision starts spinning, “Let me race. If I fuck up you can put George in the car for Monaco. If I fuck up you can even replace me. I don’t care. Just let me drive today.”

Toto’s face pinches in the way it does when he’s considering something, you can see cogs turning in his head as he evaluates what you’ve said and decides if he should listen to it.

He sighs, “I am not putting that kind of ultimatum on you,” your heart stutters and stops in your chest, and you hold your breath, “Okay. Against my better judgement, I will let you race today.”

You let out an audible breath, it edges out into a sob that makes your aching body curl into itself. You press the heels of your palms into your eyes for a moment to suppress the urge to give in to your fever. It would be easier to give up, it would be easier to let George take your seat for the race so you could crawl into bed and cry the fever out. But none of this has ever been easy for you. You’ve fought tooth and nail to get here, you won’t forfeit a race and let people say you took the easy way out.

You look up. Toto looks concerned.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“You won’t.”

You practically stumble onto the asphalt before the national anthem, passing your coat off to Rachel while your trainer wipes your forehead with a towel as if you’ve just finished a full-body workout. Your shoulders feel tense, you can’t stand up straight without shuddering so you’re hunched over awkwardly hoping it doesn’t come off looking too strange.

People are still milling about, setting things up while the drivers assemble. You don’t really notice on account of the fever state you’re in, but you end up standing between the McLaren boys. You must brush against Oscar because he looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed, mouth set in a line and his eyes wide like a puppy dog. You get lost in them a little— because of the fever. Definitely.

“Dude,” Oscar says to you, “You’re really hot.”

On your other side, Lando breaks into a fit of laughter. You frown, your brain trying the puzzle through the sentence. You feel foggy, your eyes feel heavy. You need more Sour Patch Kids, or a shot of espresso, or five Red Bulls. Max could swing it for you.

Oscar leans past you and swats at Lando’s shoulder, “She’s burning up, stupid.”

Lando’s laughter pauses, and he says seriously, “Oh shit.”

Suddenly, you’re being twisted around and you’re wincing at the contact on your shoulder that makes it ache even more. Lando puts a hand on your forehead and then immediately rips it away.

“Eugh. You’re sweaty.”

The back of Oscar’s hand replaces it. You twist away, brushing it off.

“You’ve got a fever,” he tells you, his voice thick with concern for you, “Have you told anyone? Does Toto know? Lewis?”

Instead of answering you press a hand over your eyes and crack your neck, trying to work through some of the stiffness in your back. You roll your shoulders and stand up as straight as possible, pushing through that aching, sickly feeling that runs through your whole body. When you finally drag your hand from your face— a thin sheen of sweat coming with it— Oscar is staring at you with a deep-set frown on his mouth. At his shoulder, Lando looks at you with a markedly less severe, but still concerned, expression.

“I’m fine, Oscar,” you insist.

You’re not. He knows you’re not. It doesn’t matter, you don’t want to seem weak. Not barely thirty minutes before the race. You can’t have either of them thinking you’d be easy for an overtake or that you’ll back out of a fight first. Off the track, fine— you’ve been vulnerable and honest with both of them at times. On the track is a different story. This is Formula One. You’re not here to make friends. They are not here to make friends.

“Mm,” Oscar hums, “Pretty sure you’re not.”

“You’re sweating bullets,” Lando adds, “Can see it from here.”

Something white-hot and pissed off flares up your spine. Oscar is not this kind of person, even on track; but the suspicion that he’s just trying to eliminate you as competition rises anyway. You think it because if the situation were flipped, you’d be weighing the pros and cons of having a sick driver on the track. Their weaknesses, what it means if they’re distracted. It doesn’t make you a good person, but you’re already pretty sure you aren’t one.

“I am fine,” you bite.

Oscar’s expression drops. Into something not quite offended… accepting, maybe? Resigned? It closes off to you, is what you mean. That’s fine, you’re trying to close yourself off to him. You’re re-drawing a line that you’ve been crossing without a thought for at least two years now. You’re not here to make googly eyes at Oscar and let him put his hand on your fever-ridden forehead and have him reprimand out-of-line, so-called professionals for you. You’re here to get in that car every Sunday and put your life on the line for a shiny trophy and fucking glory. Even if you’ve got a fever. Even if you’ve got a weird crush on Oscar Piastri.

“I’m racing,” you add in a different tone, feeling as if you’ve been a bit harsh on a well-meaning Oscar, even if you mean what you’re thinking.

Oscar nods, and says, “Okay,” in a way that really means, ‘If you say so, then it is’.

In the car, on the tarmac, sitting in your starting grid position, you’re shitting bricks.

Your cheeks are squeezed tight into your helmet, you can feel sweat, slick and soaking through your balaclava. Your arms hurt, your legs hurt, your ass hurts where it’s pressed into the seat. You’re not crying, but your mouth— hidden away by your helmet— is open like you’re about to. Set into a grimace that you breathe raggedly out of. Toto says something over the radio before the lights go out, you don’t hear it. You’re too busy regretting how earnestly you’d begged him to let you race. It would have been better if George had taken over. It might have been better if you’d passed out during the national anthem so you really had no choice but to sit it out. No one could say you weren’t committed to this sport if that had happened. They’d have plenty to say about women and their weak constitutions though.

You’re on autopilot when the lights go out. One second you’re freaking out like it’s your first time in a car, the next second everything is fading into background noise and you’re fighting a Ferrari and a McLaren for your original grid position. Twenty of you tear down the straight to turn two and you find yourself slotting easily into what you think is P4. Ferrari— not the same one— in front of you. Your mirrors reveal the McLaren behind you. It’s Oscar, you’re sure. You can tell by the way he sticks to your ass. Every nudge of the car you make he makes with you.

You press the radio button, “That Piastri behind?”

Crackle, “Yeah.”

“Knew it. He’s up my butt, Rach.”

“Okay. Go faster then. Not sure what to tell you.”

You make a face. You weren’t looking for sarky advice, you were trying to commiserate. You press the button and make a vaguely mocking neh-neh noise that gets a laugh and then radio silence because you’re supposed to be fucking concentrating. Which, okay, fair.

You press the throttle, done with trying to manage your tyres for the moment and taking Rachel’s comment as permission. You tear away from Oscar, stopping his fight to overtake you through the chicane in its tracks. You start slowly gaining on the Ferrari in front of you, its red rear wing growing closer and closer.

“Sainz in front?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

“Yup,” Rachel confirms before rattling off some lap times when you ask for them.

By lap thirty-something, you’re on Sainz’s ass like Oscar was on yours. You’re fighting him through every chicane, threatening him on the straights and generally behaving in a way that you know for a fact is putting him on edge. But Carlos isn’t giving up P3 without a fight.

A safety car goes out around lap forty, and you pit. Everyone ahead of you does as well. Oscar doesn’t, Oscar is lucky to have gone in earlier. Rachel tells you he’d made up four places after being forced to box for some tyre issue. You feel a strange mix of pride and jealousy swirl in your chest as you all file into a discordant line behind the safety car.

Verstappen leads the pack, as per usual. Then Oscar, Sainz and you. Leclerc is behind you, then Lando. You’re in P4, right where you started and right where you’ve been fucking sitting the entire race so far. twenty-five laps to at least make it onto the podium. Then you’ll be happy. Or not quite happy, you’d need pole for that. Content. You’d be content.

Max starts weaving. The safety car goes off and Max keeps you all ready and waiting until the exact millisecond that he decides the race can properly begin again. You hate when he does this— you know that’s exactly why. Eventually, finally, he gets going.

You have to run defence like crazy for a few laps to keep Leclerc behind you until everything is warmed up. The gap widens as you drive. At some point, you stop worrying about the Monégasque so much and focus your attention on car fifty-five like your life depends on it. The laps fly by as time ticks on. Twenty-five to go, twenty, fifteen, ten. You’re back on Sainz’s rear wheel, a gap of 0.2 to 0.3 that’s been consistent throughout this last stretch of the race. You’re watching him like a hawk, waiting for the smallest slip-up to take advantage of. Somewhere you can push, somewhere he’s weak. It’s hard— he’s covering all his bases. Not giving you an inch so you can’t take a mile.

You’re closing in on sixty-four laps— with only three to go— when he gives you that fucking inch. It’s in the first chicane. His wheel locks up, and he jerks the car slightly the wrong way, something like that. You get in his space and you push and he backs out first. You press down on the throttle and rocket past him, shouting FUCK! FUCK YES! to yourself.

P3. P3. God, you hope it’s P3.

You press the talk button, “Rach?”

“Yes, P3,” she barks, “Fucking, focus. Three laps to go.”

Those last three laps of Imola are some of the hardest of your life. Defending against Carlos is a task, of course, but it’s not even that. The sickness starts to creep back into your awareness as the adrenaline that had hit its peak during the overtake starts to subside. Two laps to go and you’re remembering the fever again. The sweat soaking your hair and streaking down the back of your neck. Your whole body is on fire and it aches everywhere. It feels like someone has taken a sledgehammer to the inside of your skull. You want so badly to close your eyes and drift away to sleep, but the car is flying through the air demanding your attention with the way it thuds against the track. You’ve got one lap to go and Carlos is on you like white on rice. You can’t afford to make a mistake until you’re firmly over that finish line.

So you don’t. You grit your teeth and you refuse.

Carlos is downright reckless in the last chicane, he tries to bait you by moving to one side and pushing but you’re not going to fall for something like that even if you’re near delirious from the 39.4-degree fever. Though surely it’s higher now, the car temp can’t be helping. You hardly realise you’ve crossed the finish line because you’re thinking so hard about how lightheaded you feel. On instinct, you slow down to a safe speed as Oscar’s McLaren enters your vision, but you think your toes have pins and needles and there’s some feeling tingling up into your shoulders. You blink hard and take a long sip of water so you can make it to the pits before your head starts to spin.

Crackle, “Where are you going? That was P3.”

“Huh?” you realise you’re following the other drivers instead of heading into the pits where you’re supposed to go, “Shit. Sorry.”

You edge back as carefully as you can, avoiding other cars that pass by, lucky you’ve not overshot too far so you can turn into the pits and park your car in front of the P3 sign without going around the entire track. That would be embarrassing. Or that would be more embarrassing than how disgusting you’re going to look when you take your helmet and balaclava off.

Toto, Rachel and a few of your engineers are there to meet you at the barricade when you clamber out of the car, unsteady on your feet. Rachel’s eyebrows are furrowed as she tries her best to smile at you, trying to put on a brave face even though you can tell she’s concerned you’re going to keel over. You brace yourself with a hand against the gate and tear your helmet off, then your balaclava. You’ve never been so fast to put a cap on your head, trying to cover the sweaty mess that is your hair right now.

“That was phenomenal work,” Rachel says, reaching to put a hand on your burning hot bicep, “You look fucking terrible, though.”

You suck in a ragged breath and you nod in agreement, trying to keep the black tinging your vision from taking over completely. 

“Get her something to drink,” you hear Toto bark, though it comes to your ears, muffled and staticky.

You’re fine. You’re fine. Until you’re not and your sweaty hand is slipping against the guardrail and your vision is fading into darkness and you’re falling face first into a metal railing. And, and, someone’s got their arm around your middle and you’re not on the ground with your face in the asphalt. You blink, hot tears— from what you assume is exhaustion— burning your eyelids. The arm around your middle is covered in something orange and black… Oscar. It’s Oscar who’s got you propped up, held firm into his body so your legs don’t collapse underneath you. The two of you sway and stumble for a second as you gain your footing back, your vision returning to normal, the buzzing in your ears going away.

“You’re good,” he breathes, “I’ve got you.”

You ignore the shiver that runs down your spine, you attribute it to your current state.

You remember the cameras that are on all of you right now. You try not to look panicked as you step away from him. You try to do it calmly and not frantically like you so want to. Toto has some electrolyte drink held out right in your face and you take it, chugging half of it straight away while you swivel around to face Oscar. You nod, feeling slightly better, but gripping the guardrail tight so as not to repeat earlier.

“Thanks,” you try a smile, but it’s just turning into a grimace because you feel like shit.

Oscar shakes his head, “Don’t mention it.”

“Great driving out there.”

His eyebrow goes up, touching the curl of his hair that peeks out from his cap.

“You’re kidding?” he says, tone laced with amusement.

You frown, which is much easier, “No. You drove great.”

He makes a face like ‘yes, obviously’, but somehow does it in a humble and endearing way that you find you like a little too much. It leaves you confused as to his point.

“No,” he scoffs, “Okay, yes. What I mean is that you just got P3 with a raging fever.”

You purse your lips, countering, “You don’t know I have a fever.”

His tongue darts out to wet his top lip, hiding the small smile that threatens on his face.

He shrugs, “Bit obvious, unfortunately.”

You roll your eyes. You think what he means is it’s a bit obvious because you look like absolute death. There’s probably sweat rolling off you in buckets, your cap is jammed on your head and your hair is probably sticking out at crazy angles. There were dark circles under your eyes before you left for the track this morning, they’re probably ten times worse now. He might also mean it’s obvious from the way your skin is burning hot, like touching a radiator in the middle of winter. Or, perhaps, the way you’d passed out into his arms a few minutes earlier.

You suck your teeth, “Well. I told you I was racing today.”

Oscar nods, biting the inside of his lip, “Yeah. You did.”

There’s more that neither of you are saying. A conversation that you’re trying desperately to have with prolonged eye contact, small little smiles and breaths out through the nose. You think it might be ‘I’m proud of you’ or ‘You’re very impressive and I’m going a little bit crazy about it’. That’s how you feel at least, somewhere in between the fever chills and the urge you’re suppressing to curl into a ball on the tarmac. This is okay, you think. You don’t have to be Oscar’s sworn enemy just because you’re both chasing the win. You can let him worry about you, but make sure he understands he can’t stop you from taking the things that you want. You can say things that mean other things and Oscar can smile at you like it’s something private for just the two of you.

You can be happy with that. Or not quite happy. Content.

🏎️ song inspo (fiona apple my Beloved) -> https://open.spotify.com/track/5h9Iek7Hp9wayRt7fBp7Ab?si=9PnuH5CDSC-qTurLPGiTwg

💫 fill out this form if you want to be added to my tag list: @clowngirlsstuff @leclercsluvs @c-losur3 @mael1pastry @papayamusha @mvk1ma

[vngelicc]

s e v e n

p a i r i n g : jungkook x reader

g e n r e : baby daddy au

t a g s : sleazy!jk, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, fingering, messy sex, half assed blowjob, rough sex, possessive!jk, he’s a jealous mess, he’s also like a lost puppy following you around, pervy!jk, dirty talk, light degradation, jk literally wants you all the time, oc is mean n cunty, but she’s also weak when it comes to him, me thinks he’s toxic, toxic!jk tag to be safe (for now LMAO), hyunjin gets put in his place three times LMAO, sex tapes, THIS IS NASTY Y’ALL

w o r d c o u n t : 5.5 k

s u m m a r y : “You know night after night, I’ll be fuckin’ you right,” or: “Girl hold on my baby daddy calling again.”

“Jungkook,” you sigh deeply, “I’m not kidding you can’t miss this, it’s his special day and he wants his dad there too,” You grit your teeth while digging through the pantry with your phone balanced on your shoulder, “No! I already told you what he wants to do afterwards we’re not just going to cancel those plans because you wanna show off when you feel like it. He’s six!”

You’re already irritated and Jungkook clearly wasn’t making things any better with his nonchalant attitude and condescending words/tone. “Jungkook–you’re not listening–”

“Baby I heard ya loud and clear, stop stressin’ that pretty little head of yours. Sounds like you’re about to pop a nerve or something,” Jungkook replies with that stupid laugh of his, “I mean I know a couple things that can help you relax.”

You close your eyes and count to three under your breath tilting your head back and pinching the bridge of your nose. “...Tell me to calm down one more time and see what happens Jeon Jungkook,” you go to say more but he cuts you off.

“I didn’t tell you to calm down, I said to stop stressing.”

“........” Oh this man had you mad already, and he wasn’t even here yet. You ignore his voice and shakily set down the bag of bread you had pulled from the pantry. This man was so fucking dead when he got here.

“Ow–! Baby what the hell?” Jungkook yelps as soon as he walks through the door, he’s holding his arms up to block the stuff you throw at him (and they’re not soft either). “Did I do something?” He whines.

You glare fiercely back at him, “Did you do something? Don’t act smart with me Jungkook, you know damn well what you’re doing. Stop acting stupid because you look stupid.” You hurl your son’s toy ball at him and perfectly strike his head, “Today is not the day you hear me, Jiho’s been looking forward to his recital and you’re not going to ruin it by being a deadbeat.” You seethe.

Jungkook raises his hands in surrender, “Baby all I said was to quit stressin’,” he walks over carefully in case you planned on throwing something else, “you know I’d never make my baby mad on purpose.” He wraps his arms around your waist and tugs you to his chest, “Is this a new dress? Looks sexy.” He teases as he sneaks his hand down to your ass and squeezes it through the dress.

“Don’t change the subject,” you shake his hand away and stare up at him, “and how do you keep coming in here? Nevermind that, stop coming in like you live here.” You grunted.

“I found the key under the doormat, you should really hide it somewhere else.” Jungkook grins as he tries to kiss you but he misses and ends up kissing up on the side of your face, “ “Don’t be like that babe.” He pouts.

You grumble once more and relax into his arms, “Swear to me you’re not going to mess this up for Jiho.” You grab his face and direct it towards you, “Swear it.” You stare into his eyes with a pleading look.

Jungkook nods, “I swear.” He gently squeezes you, “I only want the best for Jiho too, he’s my son after all.” You stare at him, as if you’re trying to find any hints of deceivement but you find none in his eyes, in fact he looks sincere for once.

“Okay..” You softly reply and let his face go, “I believe you.”

He does that stupid (but charming) thing where he smiles coyly, borderline smirking, as he stares down at you with those playful eyes of his. “Now what do you say we relax a little yeah? You’re looking a little too fine for me to let it go to waste baby..” He gently runs his hands up and down your sides, slithering their way back to your ass like he had them before.

You laugh in disbelief, “You’re ridiculous, I can’t believe you.” You shake your head as Jungkook leans down to bury his nose in the side of your neck, “Fine.”

Jungkook grins triumphantly as he spins you around in the direction of the hallway where the bedroom lies. “Lead the way lil’ mama.” Jungkook murmurs in a low tone, eyes dropping down to admire your pretty ass. You take his hand and lead the way, biting back small laughs of amusement as he encircles his arms around you from behind and kisses on your neck.

You stumble into the room and let the straps of your sundress slip off your shoulders but he stops you, “No, wanna fuck you in it baby.” He whispers in your ear as he guides you on to the bed, “Damn, you look so fuckin’ fine walkin’ around like this. If only they knew how I make you mine every night baby.” He stands at the edge of the bed, hands slowly undoing his belt buckle and jeans. His Calvin Klein boxers peek out from underneath in all their glory making your mouth water a tiny bit.

“And if I said this dress wasn’t for you? I mean, you fuck me every night but do you know who comes when you’re not here?” You lick your lips with a smirk, “You have no clue what happens when you’re gone.” Jungkook’s eyes darken at that, the way he looks at you is enough to have you creaming your panties.

“Oh yeah? Like who mama? Go on and tell me,” He climbs on the bed and flips your dress up, “does he make you cum like I do? Has you shaking n creamin’ this slutty pussy all over his cock?” He yanks your panties down your legs and tosses the ruined item on to the ground below, “Let me tell you something,” he grabs your chin and forces you to look at him, “he may be here when I’m gone but you always come back for this dick baby.”

You bite back your moan from the utter filth he just spewed at you, your poor pussy’s throbbing from all this and you desperately need his tongue or something on you. “Jungkook,” you quietly groan, “if you’re gonna fuck around then let go.” You glare.

“Patience, wanna savor my baby’s sweet lil’ pussy.” He hungrily licks his lips, “You got a man starved sweetheart,” he goes down between your legs, “I’ll make sure you forget all about your..friend.” He shoots a wink at you before he disappears under your dress.

Jungkook’s hot breath fans over your poor cunt and it tickles your clit and sends a shiver down your spine in anticipation. Luckily he doesn’t disappoint and his tongue dips low between your dewy soft folds, licking upwards until he circles your clit. A long sigh slips past your lips, you slide your hands into his hair and grip the curly strands as a means to hold on, “Oh fuck..” You whisper.

Jungkook hums against your pussy and buries himself nose deep while he licks and sucks at your slicked up hole. His nose brushes past your clit, bumping it gently and causing tiny little jolts of pleasure. “Mm..” You spread your thighs wider to make more room for him. You can feel his tongue prod at your sopping hole, dipping in teasingly but not quite slipping in just yet.

He curls his hands around your thighs and groans low, you can see his hips rock up into the bed as he grinds his hard cock over the sheets. The sight sends shivers down your spine as you push your pussy up into his mouth, “Kook,” you bite your lip, “need more..”

Jungkook makes some obscene slurping noises before he pulls away, panting slightly before he dives back in, only this time he aims for your sensitive clit. He wraps his lips around the bud and suckles, moaning so the vibrations travel. A shocked moan leaves you, your eyes slip shut and you roll your hips like you’re trying to fuck your pussy into his mouth some more.

His fingers trail down to push into your sloppy cunt, a low lewd squelching noise audible in the background as he fucks his fingers in and out of you steadily. Your toes curl and you hike your legs up over his shoulders. Jungkook doesn’t take it easy on your poor cunt opting to fuck his fingers in at a fast pace. He swirls his tongue around your clit and flicks it repeatedly until he has you squirming from the rapid pleasure building.

“Kook,” you moan, “fuck–hold on,” you try to push his head away but he tightens his grip on you and moves his fingers faster at godspeed. “Jungkook,” you moaned loudly and arch your back.

He pulls away from your cunt and pants heavily, “Go on, cum for me.” He licks his lips, “Get ‘em nice and wet for me.” He smirks with hazy eyes, emerging from under your dress but keeping up that rapid pace.

Your lips form a small ‘o’ and your pussy flutters around his fingers, “Oh fuck..!” You cry out and reach for the sheets, grabbing and twisting at them as you thrash around. “Mmm..! Mm,” you throw your head back and gasp as your orgasm finally hits hard.

“There you go baby, that’s it.” He leans down to capture your lips in a smooth and slow kiss, “Did so good for me.” He purrs against your lips watching as you tiredly moaned and slumped against the bed, “C’mere mama,” he helped you sit up, “need your mouth on my cock.” He shoves his boxers down enough to let his cock spring out.

It slaps against his stomach with a lewd noise, making you bite your lip in desire. “Get it wet for me,” Jungkook strokes his cock with a low sigh as he slaps the tip against your lips repeatedly, “c’mon sweetheart.” He guides your head forward towards his cock with a hitched breath.

You part your lips and wrap them around the weeping tip hearing him curse under his breath. His hand tangles in your hair and bites down on his lip, “There you go baby, look so fuckin’ sexy with my cock in your mouth.” He guides your head back and forth, hissing quietly when you gently scrape your teeth around the shaft.

Jungkook moans low when your tongue runs over a sensitive vein along his cock. You give him a harsh suck slowly pulling off his cock with a wet pop, it slaps against your lips and you smirk up at him, “Like that?”

“Just like that.” He repeats and gently pushes you back, “Open ‘em.” He pats your thighs, “We got an hour left before we gotta go.” He murmurs, “and I don’t plan on letting you walk outta here without a fuckin’.” He’s so vulgar it literally annoys you how much it turns you on when he talks like that about you.

You bite your lip and hoist your legs around his waist, reaching down to replace his hand on his cock as you press the bulbous head against your pussy, rubbing up and down while smearing your slick around. Jungkook watches you with hooded eyes as he holds himself up over you, “Go on baby, slip me right in your little pussy.”

His cock throbs in your hand and you take pity on him, letting the tip slip right in through the mess he created of you earlier. Your lips part as you guide him inch for inch until he’s bottomed out inside your pussy, balls deep and hips pressed against yours. Jungkook moans quietly and tests the waters by pressing in deeply, he rocks his hips slowly just enjoying the feeling of your soft pussy wrapped around his cock.

“Fuck me,” you sigh out and relax, this is exactly what you were craving for, you never wanted the feeling to end.

“I am baby.” Jungkook grins and pushes up into you once more, “Pussy feels so fuckin’ snug around me, ‘s all soaked for me too, bet you don’t get this wet for anyone else.” He grinds in deeply, hips circling slowly as his cock bumps into your sensitive spots and has you seeing stars for a moment.

You let out a long whimper and shut your eyes, “Oh fuck, right there Kook,” you whisper, “fuck, fuck, fuck me please.” You whine lowly and reach down to shove your dress up higher around your hips, “Need it so bad.”

“Need what baby?” Jungkook leaves tiny kisses down the side of your neck and shoulders, “C’mon, wanna hear you say it. Let me hear that filthy mouth of yours, I know how fuckin’ nasty you can get.” He whispers in your ear, hips grinding in that one spot you oh so love.

You shudder in pleasure and moan uncontrollably, “Mm right there–fuck, oh fuck, harder baby..” You whimper out, eyes shutting and thighs trembling once again. Jungkook thankfully doesn’t stall any longer, he re-adjusts his grip by sliding his hands under your ass and gripping both cheeks before he begins plowing into you.

He drives his cock deeper, his hips slap against your ass with loud smacking noises ringing throughout the bedroom. You lay there moaning unabashedly as he fucks the ever living shit out of you in broad daylight. Jungkook moans and pants softly in your ear, whispering a bunch of utter filth that only makes your pussy squeeze his cock and weep around him.

“You like that don’t you baby. Always been such a little slut for me, ain’t that right? This pussy belongs to me?” He growls in your ear and suddenly pins you to the bed with his hand wrapped around your throat, “You think you can just run off with someone else baby? Oh not afuckin’ chance, because at the end of the day you’ll always come running back to daddy won’t you?” He snaps his hips upward punishingly, striking your g-spot over and over again.

You cry out weakly and wildly buck your hips, the question flies right past you and you almost forget he even said anything from how good it felt. Jungkook doesn’t take too kindly and smacks your cheek a couple of times to get your attention as he asks you the question all over again, “Mmm–yeah,” you breathe out all high and soft, “only yours daddy.”

Jungkook rumbles quietly in satisfaction before he lets you go and sits up on his haunches, he grabs your waist and uses it as leverage, he begins slamming himself in and out of your poor abused cunt. You almost cry from how good it feels, your moans are choked up and some come out as pitiful little whimpers.

“Daddy–” You throw your head back and brace your hand against the sheets. The force of his thrusts is enough to send you shifting up against the mattress, there’s loud creaking noises to accompany the skin slapping skin. It just sounds like filthy fucking at this point.

Jungkook bites his lip and moans under his breath as his eyes lock on your bouncing tits, he digs his fingers into your waist and grips you so tight you know you’re going to bruise. He throws his head back with a long satisfied moan, “Oh fuck,” he rolls his hips quickly, “you’re gonna fucking make me cum baby.” He whispers breathily.

You squeeze around him with purpose, “Cum,” you whine, “inside.”

Jungkook doesn’t reply, not at least verbally, he lets out a series of lewd moans and whispers of promises. He smacks his hips into yours and reaches between you two to thumb at your clit, rubbing the bud in tight fast circles. Your orgasm comes as a surprise, feeling like eternity as you sob in pleasure and plead for more.

“Fuck..!” Jungkook groans loud and long. His cock throbs and he slams three more times before pressing himself balls deep as he fills you with his cum. “Shit..” He laughs breathlessly and runs a hand through his messy hair, “That was a good one..” He mutters with a slap to your ass as he collapses next to you.

You pant softly and turn to the alarm clock on the nightstand, “Thirty minutes.” You sigh and roll out of bed, “Get up we’re leaving.” You say while wobbling to the bathroom to freshen the hell up, “I mean it Jungkook don’t you dare make us late.” You call out from the bathroom.

Jungkook hums, “Let a man rest sweetheart, you practically drained my balls.” He replies with a sigh, “Probably made another kid just now.” He smirks to himself as he closes his eyes and folds his arms behind his head.

“Seriously sometimes I wonder how old you really are.” You shake your head as you stand in the doorway observing his relaxed form, “And I wonder why I even let you back in either. You’re not useful for anything.”

He cracks one eye open at you and smirks, “Admit it, you love my cock too much to cut me off baby, you can’t deny I don’t rock your entire world. Without me who’s gonna fuck you till you’re seeing stars?” He sits up and ignores the fact that his limp cock lays out in the open coated in slick and cum. “Does my baby need another round?” He opens his arms with a mock pout.

“Get the hell out we’re going to be late you fucking asshole.” You grit your teeth and storm off to find your shoes you were planning on wearing to the recital.

“Ay-ay captain.” Jungkook chuckles.

+

“Mama, mama! Did you see me up there?” Jiho comes running over with pure excitement in his eyes as he hugs your legs and looks up at you with those little doe eyes of his that you oh so love (not so much on the father..).

“Of course baby, you did so good up there my little man is a star.” You coo back and squat down to his level, “A little birdie told me that we should go get some pizza and ice cream at the park. How does that sound to you my love?” You gently cradle his cheek and caress it lovingly.

Jiho’s eyes lighten up at the mention of all those things, but what really breaks your heart is the noise he makes when he finally sees Jungkook behind you. “Daddy you came?!” Jiho runs over to hug him tightly, “Did you see me? Did you see me?” He excitedly jumps.

Jungkook softens and leans down to pick Jiho up with ease, “Course I saw champ you killed it, hell I think you even did better than that Sunhye girl.” He smirks as Jiho giggles uncontrollably, “What’s so funny huh?” He coos tickling his son on the side teasingly.

“Daddy just said a curse word.” Jiho covers his mouth shyly and looks at you. Your heart melts and you reach over to gently squeeze his chubby little cheek.

“Did he now baby? But remember what mommy said? Mommy doesn’t want you to end up like daddy love.” You side eye Jungkook with a nasty little glare before going back to Jiho with a soft smile, “C’mon, daddy said he’s taking you out today.” You kiss his cheek.

Jiho lights up in excitement, “Really daddy?!” He throws his arms around Jungkook’s neck and kicks his legs excitedly, “I can’t wait! I’m going to show you my new car collection daddy, it’s so cool I barely got it last week when mama and I went to the store.” He rambles on and on before he pauses, “You are coming over…right?” He quietly asks.

Jungkook nods, “Of course,” he says immediately, “you know I will champ.” He softly smiles and presses a kiss to his temple, “Daddy will always come over when you want.” This seems to satiate Jiho who goes back to his cheerful little rambles. It shouldn’t hurt you but this time it does, and you hate the bitter feeling it leaves in your mouth.

.

The day passes by and night time soon falls, Jiho of course asks Jungkook to put him to bed after hours of playing together. It warms your heart to see Jiho this happy with Jungkook, you wish it stayed like that..

“Hey babe,” Jungkook passes by behind you with a sneaky ass grab as he opens the fridge, “finally put Jiho down, little guy was out like a light.” He chuckles under his breath fondly.

You smile softly, “That’s my favorite part of the day, listening to him talk about the things he did and the new stuff he learns.. I wouldn’t miss it.” You turn the sink off and dry your hands, “Are you staying the night?” You raise a brow.

Jungkook nods, “Eh, I figured why the hell not. I don’t have anything to do tomorrow anyways.” He says and pops open a beer, “Plus I get to spend the night with my babies.” He winks at you.

You roll your eyes, “Of course.. Don’t you dare make a mess in my kitchen Jungkook.” You warn and walk off to the living room intending to watch some TV before bed. Jungkook trails after you like a lost puppy and you suppress a sigh, “What is it now?”

“Is it a crime to wanna be with you sweetheart? I’m sure you’d love some company right now.” Jungkook huffs and sits next to you on the couch with his arm thrown over your shoulders, “Aw c’mon sweetheart, don’t give me that look. Not after what went down this afternoon.” He buries his face in your shoulder and kisses it gently.

You sink into his arms and shoot him a glare, “Only reason I don’t kick you out is because Jiho’s gonna want to see you in the morning. If it were up to me your ass would be on the curb.” You grumble and pick up the remote, “And stop getting so close to me your breath stinks like beer.” You push his face away.

Jungkook’s shoulders shake as he laughs (obnoxiously in your opinion), “Fine, only cause you said so.” He says and gets up to head back into the kitchen. He re-emerges empty handed and in his wife beater tank top, his sweater is ditched and tossed to the side. “Better for you?” He holds his arms out.

“Yeah.” You turn back to the TV, “Now be quiet I’m trying to watch this.” You mumble.

Jungkook silently slips onto the couch right up beside you again. He slips his arm around and tugs you to his side with a quiet grunt. You grumble quietly and turn to face him as you push him back onto the couch and climb on top of him, “This is better..” You mutter softly and lay your head on his chest.

You don’t miss the way he smiles at you and hugs you closer, “Good night.” He says, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. He hears a faint ‘night’ and with that he lets his eyes slip shut as he falls asleep with a dumb little smile on his face.

“Idiot..” You whisper softly, surprised at how fond you sound at the moment, but he doesn’t have to know that.

+

A few days later you’re gone for work and Jungkook comes over to take care of Jiho. At first nothing too big happens, they play some games and then have breakfast before Jungkook takes Jiho out to the mall and then they come back to have lunch. Right now however Jiho was napping leaving Jungkook all by himself.

He takes one last look at Jiho before he slips outside for a needed smoke session. Jungkook always did like the view from your balcony, it gave him like a sense of peace and security whenever he sat out there smoking a cigarette. He really did feel at ease. He spends a couple minutes looking out at the sunset and city and then he checks his phone right after when he gets bored of that.

Jungkook’s in the middle of texting back Namjoon when he hears the doorbell ring. He frowns in confusion and looks back, you didn’t say anything about having anyone over or anything being delivered. He tucks the cigarette between his lips and makes his way over to the front door.

“y/n, hey! I was wondering if–” some guy standing on the other side of the door starts but quickly stops when he sees Jungkook standing in the doorway instead of y/n.

“Can I help you?” Jungkook leans against the doorway and eyes the guy up and down, “You lost or somethin’ kid?”

“Huh? Who are you? I’ve never seen you around before and y/n’s never talked about a guy before..” He trails off, eyeing Jungkook up and down too but only this time he doesn’t bother to hide his distaste for him. Jungkook’s aware of how he looks right now, and damn if he doesn’t look good.

“I’m y/n’s baby daddy, now who the fuck are you?” Jungkook snorts and takes a long drag from the cigarette, blowing the smoke in the dude’s face.

The dude looks at him with a glare, “I’m her friend and neighbor.”

“Neighbor huh, good then you don’t need to be around then. I don’t take too kindly to random ass men trying to hit on my girl like that, because we both know you see her more than a neighbor so do me a favor and turn your ass back around unless you wanna really get to know me.” Jungkook flicks the ashes at him, “Nice meeting ya.” He grins and slams the door in his face.

“Friend huh..” Jungkook chuckles.

It’s late when you finally arrive home, you make a quick stop to get the mail before heading up when you’re stopped by Hyunjin, your adorable but annoying neighbor, “Heyy, what’s up why you out so late?” You smile tiredly while sorting your mail out.

Hyunjin looks bothered as he looks off to the side, “Nothing, just needed some fresh air you know? Anyways that’s not what I’m here for, I didn’t know you were seeing someone?” He says softly and when he sees your confused face he continues, “That guy up there? The one with tattoos and shit? He’s rude as hell.”

You internally groan, what did he do now.. “Yeah? Well, I’m not seeing him–seeing him…technically..” You trail off before sighing in defeat, “He’s my baby daddy.”

“Ohh, I thought he was lying or something because I thought no way would you ever go with someone like him. Much less have a kid with him.” He shakes his head, “He’s seriously a bad influence though, he literally was smoking in the house like you know how bad that can be for Jiho?” Hyunjin scoffs and shakes his head, “The nerve of him to call himself a parent.”

“Listen kid, whatever the fuck he does is very much his and my business. I don’t need your two pennies of a fucking opinion on my baby daddy, yeah, that’s my child’s father and what about it? I must have seen something in him if I still went and fucked him and had his kid. So don’t you ever speak on him again unless you want me to call him downstairs you little shit.” You glare and storm off to the elevators leaving a shocked Hyunjin in the back.

“Fuckin’ nerve of this brat.” You mutter and get your keys out, “Seriously.”

You walk into the apartment and are immediately greeted with Jungkook sitting there with a pissed expression. “What the hell is wrong with you?” You ask as you kick your heels off, “Where’s Jiho?”

“He’s sleeping, had dinner and went to bed.” Jungkook stands up and makes his way over to you slowly, “Who the fuck was that kid that came knocking earlier?” He cups your chin and tilts your head to face him, “He the one you fucking or what?” He grits his teeth.

You stare back at him annoyed, “He’s some dumb ass college kid Jungkook, and no I’m not fucking him. As if..” You mutter the last part and walk to the bedroom, “If you’re just gonna bitch about him sleep on the couch I beg, I’m so fucking tired from work I just wanna sleep okay? Bitch at me another time.” You sigh.

Jungkook kicks the door shut behind him and comes up behind you to hug you, “Mm.. Just wanna help my lil’ mama relax is all,” he says in your ear, “I already knew you two weren’t fucking anyways, he makes it so obvious.” Jungkook smirks as he kisses your shoulder, reaching around the front to unbutton your blouse, “Still he fuckin’ pissed me off.” He growls.

“I know, trust me.” You smirk softly and turn around in his hold and wrap your arms around his neck, “You’ll help me relax won’t you?” You whisper against his lips.

“I’ll do more than that baby.” Jungkook grins back.

.

Jungkook has you spread out for him on all fours, back arched sensually and your face buried in your pillows. Sweat glistens on his forehead as he moans under his breath whilst moving his hips leisurely, not in any rush whatsoever. Your moans are muffled but the sounds your pussy makes make up for it.

“Fucking shit, you look so goddamn perfect for me all bent over with that pretty ass of yours bouncing on my cock.” Jungkook grunts as he slides his hands down to your waist to steady you.

“Jungkook,” you whimper out as you lift your head from the pillow, “need it faster.” You push back on his cock and gasp shakily when he hits something inside of you, “Oh fuck baby right there,” you whimper out, “mm, mm.”

He moans in response and lands a heavy smack on your ass, “Yeah? You like it when I hit it right there baby? ‘S got you creamin’ all over my cock right now.” He gasps softly as he speeds up and fucks into your harder.

You eyes flutter shut and you stick a hand down between your thighs to rub at your clit in tiny circles, “I love it,” you sigh out, “feels so good.” Jungkook spanks you again and it causes you to moan loud over the noises of his balls slapping against your clit and your ass bouncing off his pelvis. “Fuck..!”

Jungkook sees your phone light up from the corner of his eye and he peers over, he sees it’s that fucking kid from earlier texting you shit about how he’s sorry. Oh Jungkook’s gonna make him sorry now.. He grabs your phone and unlocks it, immediately opening up your camera and recording, “C’mon baby, put on a show for me.” He purrs out, making sure his tattooed hand is in the frame resting right over your bouncing ass.

You moan louder and lift yourself up enough to stabilize yourself before you start fucking yourself on his cock just how he likes it. “There you go, atta girl.” Jungkook lands repeated hits on your red ass cheek, licking his lips when he sees his hand print linger. “Whose pussy this belong to baby? Hm?”

“You,” a tiny whimper follows, “ ‘s your pussy baby.” You moan back as you rub your clit faster, “Fuck right there,” you push back and circle your hips on his cock like you’re trying to spell coconut. He moans loud as your pussy massages his cock just right, he nearly forgets he’s recording in the first place.

Jungkook ends the video there with a middle finger towards the end before he sends it to Hyunjin and tosses your phone aside, “C’mere.” He growls out and grabs your hips before he starts fucking into you harder and faster.

The headboard slams into the wall repeatedly, the sound of skin slapping grows louder and your moans are borderline screams now. You shudder violently and fall onto the bed face first as your pussy squirts, you lay there twitching and shaking as you come down from your orgasm slowly. Jungkook’s lips fall open in a silent moan as he watches in satisfaction.

He cums a few minutes later, pressing in deep as he groans lowly, “Damn I almost said I love you.” He breathlessly says. You reach behind to smack his arm making him laugh, “What? It’s true.” He shakes with laughter, “Aaaa you’re so cute baby.” Jungkook wipes the sweat off his brow and pulls out slowly, “Damn.” He murmurs, laying down next to you, “You okay?” He pokes your side.

You tiredly roll over and stare at him with a goofy little smile, “I almost said I love you too.” You softly reply.

Jungkook smiles, “y/n…my love, mother of my child,” he begins, “I’m sorry, but can you make me something to eat? You sucked the life out of me and now I’m starving.”

“I fucking take it back you dipshit.” You glare and roll out of bed, “.....What do you want..” You ask after shuffling around the room getting dressed in your robe.

“Ramen? Please and thank you.” Jungkook gives you that little bunny smile that made you fall in love all those years back. Maybe you’re falling all over again…

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys

[canthelpit0]

Silent

Pairing: Matt x reader

Wordcount: 1.8k +

Summary: you’ve always quietly watched the triplets, silently wishing you could be a part of a group like them. Until you and Matt talk for the first time…

Warnings: selective mutism, anxiety, crying, angst, praise, no use of y/n, no oc

(Disclaimer: I’m not mute in any way. This was a request from an anon that I accidentally deleted. Hope you like it ! Requests are open)

I developed selective mutism pretty early on. My mom says that I didn’t talk even back in kindergarten.

But it’s been years now.

I can talk, and I can’t shut the fuck up for the life of me. I talk a lot, even have full conversations with myself.

Just not at school, or around new people. God, especially not in school.

It’s not like I want to be the ‘ weird’ mute kid. I would love to talk and make friends, I just physically can’t open my mouth and talk.

It even took months for me to utter simple words to my therapist, tho by this point I’ve known her for years and I’m pretty comfortable.

There are these triplets in my grade. We’ve always gone to the same school, but I don’t think they ever noticed me.

Well the first time I noticed them was in first grade, because there were three of them. Of corse my six year old self didn’t understand the concept of multiples back then, and I really wanted to ask, and talk to them. I really thought they were cool.

The first time I interacted with any of them tho was when I was in fourth grade and Nick had asked to use my dark green pencil since he only had light green and needed both dark and light.

Back in fourth grade I wasn’t just selectively mute, but also really shy. So I’d just looked down and stared at the desk giving him a small nod.

In freshmen year I shared a class with Nick again, he asked me for a pen, wich I gave to him.

Despite not having talked to him once in my entire life, he remembered my name. Wich isn’t too shocking since we’ve always been around each other, I was just kinda in the shadows.

He actually gave me that pen back. Most other people would’ve forgotten and just taken it, but Nick didn’t and I appreciated that.

I only ever interacted with Nick those two times. despite sharing a few classes with both Chris and Matt over the years, I’ve probably never even held eye contact with either of them.

I’ve been watching everyone.

Bullying isn’t really a thing. Sure there were some hurtful comments by jocks here and there but it really wasn’t as bad as in the movies.

Besides I think most people forget i even exist so they don’t even bother bullying me.

I’ve had my eye on Matt for a while. Not in a weird way. But Matt seems to pretty obviously have anxiety too. I don’t know if he’s open about it, I’m not in his friend circle.

But every time I’m feeling overwhelmed and we’re in the same room, I unconsciously glance at him to see if he feels the same or if I’m just going crazy.

Chris seems to be the loudest and most extroverted one. And while yes, Nick seems pretty extroverted too, Chris seems more… random? Bold?

I sulk in the back of the class my lips pulled into a tight line as I try to get myself together.

There is literally no reason for me to be feeling like this. Honestly no one has tried to talk to me today, nothing happened, I just feel so overwhelmed.

I raise my hand just slightly. I make eye contact with the teacher. Mrs. Evans. I literally love her, she’s so kind.

Her son is apparently mute too.

When I was diagnosed with selective mutism they thought it’d be a great idea to make me learn sign language just in case, and that’s just what I did.

Since Mrs. Evans son is mute, her son, as well as her and her husband also learned sign language.

So whenever I needed something I could sign to her. Not that I wouldn’t be too embarrassed too.

Our eyes lock. Everyone was working on some paper I should also be doing, but I’m too busy hyperventilating.

I let my hand drop on my desk and glance at the door quietly asking if I can go to the nurses office since I was too tired and ashamed to sign it to her.

She gives me a pitying smile but nods. I hate pity, but then again that’s better than getting told im faking.

I look around the class of students. I get up, as quiet as I can. I pack up my little stuff and quietly walk to the front of the class. I nod in appreciation and walk outside.

I stare at the ground while I walk down the hallway. I sigh.

I feel my eyes start to water and I bite the inside of my cheek.

Honestly I should probably go to the nurses office to get checked out, just so I can leave. But I don’t think I can handle communicating with another human.

I feel like I’m about to break down. I continue to walk down the hallway clutching the straps of my bag harshly.

I consider if driving home even is a good idea seeing as I’m about to have a mental breakdown. Or-

Suddenly I bump into someone.

I close my eyes trying not to cry right then. I don’t know who I bumped into but I want to apologize, but I know that I can’t, and since I don’t know who I bumped into I don’t know if it’s someone who’ll be mean about it or-

I’m taken off guard by a gentle brush to my upper arm.

“You’re good, it’s okay” I hear a soft voice say. I can feel my lip quivering, I feel like if I open my eyes the tears brimming at my waterline will actually fall.

“can you open your eyes?” It sounds more like a question, and that voice sounds painfully familiar but I can’t quite place it.

I want to tell him that I can’t, that I’ll cry if I do and I’ll feel even more embarrassed. But my curiosity takes over me.

So I slightly blink open my eyes. I don’t open my eyes fully, just enough to see the person through my tears.

It’s Matt, looking down at me all concerned.

I blink my eyes open. at the sight I watch his expression relax just slightly.

He himself looks overwhelmed, and honestly I don’t know if it’s because of how I’m acting, or if he had a shitty day himself.

“You okay?” He sighs slightly. I watch as he licks his lips and swallows thickly.

I take in another deep breath trying to calm down. I nod just slightly, but while I do the tears in my eyes finally spill.

I feel my hot tears run down my face. Matt’s eyes immediately widen and his mouth opens slightly like he thinks it’s his fault.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, no please don’t cry.” He holds up his hands in front of my face as if he wanted to wipe my tears away but was holding himself back because he didn’t know my boundaries.

He looked miserable, like he was about to cry himself. And I just know that something this wouldn’t have him emotional like this on a normal day. At least I don’t think it would. But he seemed to be overwhelmed as well.

I scrunch my nose slightly sniffling in response. I glance back up at him and the sorrow in his eyes makes me want to sink into myself. I breathe out shakily.

Before I know it I’m bringing my hands up to my face and covering it. I tilt my head forward trying to stop crying, because crying in the school halls is just pathetic.

“I’m sorry. Fuck- can I touch you?” I hear his frantic voice. I appreciate that he asked first. I want a hug, but then again I don’t know Matt. But he just seems so genuine.

I overthink not responding to his question. My thoughts spiral at the sound of the sweet nothings and apologies leaving his mouth, only being back round noise.

Matt seems to notice that I’m starting to spiral. I feel his hand tenderly touch my wrist. I flinch slightly, and as soon as I do I feel him retract his hand.

Everybody deals with anxiety differently, some people like to be physically grounded others liked to be comforted some other way and I just knew that Matt was trying to figure out what to do without overstepping.

I’d tell him that it’s okay, or that he can hug me, but I literally can’t speak and I feel too embarrassed to let him see my teary face.

“I’m sorry, I’m-“ I hear Matt let out a breath. I know an anxiety breath when I hear one, he is panicking.

I decide to bite the bullet, what’s the worst that can happen. I look up slightly and peak through my fingers.

His hands are up and frozen. He looks almost frantic, Matt looks like the only way he knows how to ground me is by hugging me or something, but he seems unsure if that’s okay.

Despite myself I let out a little nod. Matt lets out another breath but this time he actually touches me, and I don’t flinch.

He holds my wrist and gently pulls my hands off of my face.

I let out a shaky sigh. I can’t help it when I let my head fall forward.

“It’s okay.” He says sweetly under his breath. He puts his hand under my chin as he picks my face up. Our eyes lock. I see the way Matt is also crying, tears running down his face too and I relax just a little.

He never seemed like the type to make fun of someone for crying, but especially not now.

“You wanna go to my car?” He says softly, not in a way where he is forcing me to do anything, but rather offering.

And honestly as upset as i am I have to weigh my options. Would I rather cry in the school hallways or in Matt’s car?

The best option would be to go to the bathroom, but Matt wouldn’t be able to come with, and honestly I would feel too bad leaving him alone at this point.

So I nod.

I feel Matt’s arm go around my shoulders as he hugs me for a moment. He turns me, and starts walking in a way where his arm is still around my shoulder keeping me close to him.

We walk out to the parking lot. I watch as Matt unlocks the car and opens the door for me to enter.

And by this point, if I go out this way so be it…

Before i can even register Matt is also getting into the backseat next to me.

We just look at each other for a moment. He breathes out another anxiety sigh.

“You want a hug?” And with that I don’t really know if he’s asking for me, or to comfort himself. But regardless I nod.

I feel his arms come around me and I sink into the feeling of his hug.

I’m uncertain if by tomorrow he’ll act like this all never happened, or if he’ll try to get to know me, because I’ve been wanting to know him for a while and I would more then gladly let him.

Masterlist

A/n: I know this is really short and I’ve been uploading a lot of angst recently. But I’ve been feeling sad, and every time I do write smut it’s for Kinktober. Soon you’ll get smut tho. Also this ended up a lot like crybaby. <3

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh , @tillies33ssss , @sturncakez , @strnilo , @somegirlfromasgard , @mattslovelygf , @sturnsmaeve , @sturnstvr , @lucianastrun , @jnkvivi , @jamiesturniolo , @chr1sgirl4life

[cougheemedicine]

Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Jing Yuan x GN!Reader

Word count: 2463

Warnings: Nudity, suggestive but nothing explicit (they bathe together), drinking (drink responsively kids), no beta we just die, the impending wrath of Fu Xuan, ooc? I've never written him before, I think that's it?

Content: Fluff, some angst right at the end but all is resolved, established relationship, Reader is a long-living species, Reader is shorter than Jing Yuan, other characters mentioned, they're whipped your honor

Summary: Due to your position in the Xianzhou Luofu's sky-faring commission, you are rarely home. Often gone for months at a time. Your dear husband never copes well with your time apart. He always makes sure to make up for lost time.

˜”*°•.•°*”˜

   The ground under your feet slipped away before you knew it. So this is how it ends, this is how you die. Not the worst death one could have, you supposed.

       “General-“ A dying wheeze escapes you, “General, I can’t breathe.”

       Met only with a huff that sounded more annoyed than agreeing, the crushing weight on your ribcage lessens. If only slightly. Not enough for your feet to touch the ground, but enough for you to wiggle your arms out from where they were pinned to your sides, wrapping them around your husband’s shoulders.

       “I’ve missed you,” Low and hoarse, the deep baritone of Jing Yuan’s voice sends a shiver down your spine. You sigh, relenting to your husband’s affections. It had been months since you’d seen each other last. As the fleet-master of the Luofu’s sky-faring commission, one of your most important duties was to craft interstellar maps for all of the Luofu to use. The only way to do that was to go on the missions yourself, which could last between six to nine months.

       For the long-living Xhianzhou natives, nine months passed in the blink of an eye. For your beloved, equally as long-living husband? Nine months was torturous. The man laid his head on your shoulder, inhaling deeply. You debated on whether you should drag him back to work to avoid the wrath of Lady Fu Xuan on your doorstep in an hour’s time, or repent and simply bask in the presence of your man. Who was real and tangible, embracing you instead of hushed words through a disembodied voice on the other side of your phone, or a pixelated figure sitting bored at a meeting you had to attend via a live hologram.

       As his hand slowly rubbed up and down your back, his other hand supporting you while you still dangled in the air. You found the decision easy to make. You craned your head, pressing your lips to his hairline, right above his ear. “I’ve missed you too, my love,”

       But, there was one thing amiss. Even as you felt Jing Yuan smile against the fabric of your shirt. You could also feel the eyes on your back. Both of your crew, and of Luofu citizens. None of the gazes malicious, just a bit invasive. You could also hear the whispers. The giggling and gossiping.

‘The general’s gone soft,’

’Aw, how sweet!’

’How adorable…’

       “People are watching, general,” You spoke up, raising a hand to run through the hair that escaped his ponytail, tightening your hold on the back of his neck to keep yourself up. Jing Yuan sighed contently, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Let them,”

       “General, I’d like to bathe, and get out of this armor,” You tugged lightly at his hair, pulling his head from your shoulder so you could look him in the eyes. Any normal person would’ve seen no difference in Jing Yuan’s face, but you were far from normal. After centuries of marriage, you could tell. The curve of his brow, and the pull of his frown. “Stop pouting, general,”

       He rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. That tired, easy smile of his. He set you back on the ground, arms wrapped loosely around your waist. “Stop calling me general, then I’ll let you go,”

       Despite his words, he still let you go. Stepping to your right and linking his arm with yours. You shared a smile as you walked, leaving the port. “Whatever you say, Jing Yuan.”

˜”*°•.•°*”˜

        The sound that leaves your mouth as you sink into the steaming bath water would make even the most stone-faced of war veterans blush. You were never more grateful for the sheer lavishness of the general's residence than when you just return from a mission. The bath of the general's home was better described as a pool. Set in the tile floor, and large enough to fit ten people. The large window on the far wall overlooked the Luofu, saying the whole experience was lavish would be an understatement.

        The feel of tar running in your veins instead of blood finally subsiding as the salts and oils in the water sunk into your skin. You rest your arms on the edge of the bath, letting your head lull onto the tile behind you. You don't focus much on anything, eyes scanning the traditional Xianzhou architecture of the bathroom, and letting your limbs, heavy with fatigue, float weightless in the water.

        "Enjoying yourself, dear?"  Jing Yuan's voice brings you back from your trance, eyes bleary as his feet come into view. You slowly lift your gaze, shamelessly eyeing your husband in a thin robe that was far from befitting a general. He's holding a small, porcelain cup in each hand, intricately decorated, with a bottle of wine under his arm. Oh, how you've missed this. "Very much. Even more so now,"

        "I heard from your co-pilot that you had trouble with some rogue asteroids on your way back to the Luofu," He hums as he sets down the cups and bottle a small ways away from your head, settling behind you with a washcloth.

��       You groan "Ugh, I don't want to talk about it. If it weren't for my navigators we wouldn't of been able to come back unscathed,"

        Jing Yuan coaxes you to lean forward, and you let out a rather undignified yelp when the cold soap on the washcloth touches your back. Jing Yuan laughs. you flick water at him.

        "I commend your navigator's skills. They seem very talented," Jing Yuan lathers the soap as he speaks, taking the washcloth across your shoulders and down your back. He then gently takes your right hand, running the washcloth down the length of your arm.

        "Of course they are, I taught them." Jest laces your tone, even as you submerge yourself to the neck to rid yourself of the suds. As you finish, you lay your head on Jing Yuan's crossed legs. Jing Yuan smiles softly, emotion swirling in the single eye you could see. He leans down, pressing his lips to yours. When he pulls back, the washcloth long forgotten, he runs his thumb across your cheekbone, then down the bridge of your nose, and over the curve of your lips. You've long since closed your eyes, a smile pulling at your lips. "Join me?"

        Jing Yuan is silent for a beat, and you lift your head once more. "Your wish is my command."

        Jing Yuan stands, and you watch him walk to the stool you had set your own robe on. You watch him fiddle with the knot at his hip, then slowly shrug off one side of the robe, then the other. Making sure to stretch his arms above his head, allowing you the pleasure of seeing the entire expanse of his back and arms. You can sense the smile playing on his lips, and you know he can sense your staring. He's teasing you. You avert your eyes the moment his robe drops to the floor. 

       You feel him slip into the water beside you, letting out a groan very much like the one you had earlier. He smiles at you, his hand creeping up to the side of your head, guiding it down to rest on his shoulder. The two of you sit in silence a while, simply enjoying each other's presence. Months ago, silence meant sitting alone, in the cramped captain's quarters of your starskiff, charting maps and scribbling reports to send back home. Silence meant nights that seemed endless, hunched over your work, and being far, far away from home. Silence that was so loud you had wished so very hard for moments like this to happen more often. 

        Jing Yuan shifts under your head, offering you one of the cups he had brought in. Wordlessly, you take it, allowing him to pour the wine into your cup, then into his own. "Tell me," You pipe up, swirling the cup under your nose. The scent was light, you watch as he takes a sip "When was the last time we've shared a bottle like this?"

        "I can't say I recall. You're very cruel you know, keeping me waiting so long to repeat moments like this," Jing Yuan downs the rest of the contents of his cup, resuming his previous position at your side. "Fleet Master." 

        "Excuse you, we were right on schedule. Even after the whole event with the asteroids," You grin, playing with the fingers on Jing Yuan's free hand. "General-"

        Jing Yuan surges forward, before you even have half a mind to process, slotting his lips against yours. You hum, his lips taste of wine, and the scent of his shampoo roles off him in waves. One arm slung lazily around your back, the other keeping his cup above the water, he parts from your lips with a gasp, dipping his head to pepper kisses down your jaw and neck. You manage to suck in a breath right as he lifts his head again, mashing your lips together clumsily. Desperately. If you didn't know your husband better, you'd think him drunk. With how careless he was being. The sound of his porcelain cup clattering onto the tile beside you ringing sharp in your ear only proving your thoughts.

        His grip on you tightens, bringing his other hand up to push you even closer together, you throw your arms around his neck to stable yourself. You can feel every dip and contour of his body against yours, the callouses on his hand sliding up your back to between your shoulder blades as he brings you oh so much closer, his loose hair tickling your face when he hunches forward. Kissing you even harder.

        You're the one to pull away. Or perhaps it was him? You don't really have it in you to care.

        The both of you are panting like dogs. You let your arms around his neck go slack, and his hands drop from your back to your hips.

        It's silent again, only your breathing filling the room. Without really thinking, you raise a hand, cupping your husband's cheek. Immediately he leans into your touch, covering your hand with his own and pressing a flurry of kisses to your palm. His face is flushed, pink from his cheeks to his ears, and his lips bruised. Truly a sight for your sore eyes.

        You peck Jing Yuan's cheek, the one you aren't holding, laughing quietly against his skin. He joins you, a deep chuckle that always brought a pleasant warmth to your chest. It was rare for Jing Yuan to laugh to heartily, even rarer for you to even be present to hear it. You don't think you'll ever tire of the sound. He presses his lips to your temple. "I think we better leave before we become prunes,"

        "Always so wise, my dear,"

˜”*°•.•°*”˜

       “Jing Yuan, I can’t walk with you both leaning on me,” You whine. Jing Yuan groans, leaning more of his weight onto you. His grip on the front of your night shirt tightens, wrinkling the light fabric as Mimi curls around your legs, head butting your thigh. A chuffing sound leaves the lion, as if she were laughing at you. Jing Yuan rests his chin on your shoulder, cheeks still pink from the heat of the bath.

        “Don’t be mean, she’s missed you,” He lightens his iron grip on you, running a hand through the fur on Mimi's back. You smell opportunity. You worm your way out of your husband's arms, as warm and comfortable as they are, you still need to walk. Narrowly dodging his hand, fully intent on tugging you right back, you stride on down the corridor. You needn't look back to see Jing Yuan huff and cross his arms, dragging his feet as he follows you.

        The moment you close the sliding door to your shared chambers, you're shoved onto the unnecessarily large bed. Jing Yuan crawls over you as you shuffle up to the pillows. He straddles you, a leg on each side of your torso, keeping you down with a hand on your shoulder. As you settle your hands on his hips, you feel the bed dip once more. From around Jing Yuan, you watch as Mimi sprawls out over the entire foot of the bed. A hand on your chin guides your eyes back to your husband's face. He leans down, kissing you gently. Your hands travel, from his hips to his waist, then up his chest and over his shoulders. You settle your hands in his hair, running your nails over his scalp. Sliding a hand down his nape to his shoulders, you gently push him down, letting him put all his weight on you.

        "This isn't uncomfortable, is it?" Jing Yuan lowly asks, barely above a whisper. He's already shifting his legs, leaving only his chest resting on yours. Always attentive, your Jing Yuan.

        "No love, it's perfectly fine," You sigh, continuing to card your fingers through his hair.

        Jing Yuan hums, pecking your forehead then the tip of your nose. He lowers himself till his head is cushioned by your chest, pressing another kiss to your collar bone before settling down right above your heart, curling his arms around your ribs.

        Mimi huffs, and you hear her breathing become slow. You've certainly missed this. You can feel Mimi's tail sway against your calf in her sleep, and Jing Yuan tightens his grip around you, you can feel his every breath against the thin fabric of your shirt. You continue scratching at his scalp. "Jing Yuan?"

        You hear him mumble something, he throws a leg over yours.

        "I'm sorry I'm away so often," It stings. Whenever you leave. The silent nights holed away in your office, or piloting your vessel. The homesickness eating at you the minute you leave port. Sometimes you can't help but think that having someone so dear be so far away takes a toll that isn't worth the pay off.

        "Distance makes the heart grow fonder, my love," Jing Yuan replies, muffled by the fabric of your shirt, and slurred by exhaustion.

        On second thought. Maybe having someone tying you to your home was a good thing. Who knows if you'd ever return from the stars if someone wasn't waiting at home. Speaking of home...

        "Jing Yuan, how did you convince Qingzu and Lady Fu to leave you be for so long?"

        The man stiffens in your hold.

        "Jing Yuan!"

˜”*°•.•°*”˜

work belongs to @cougheemedicine, all forms of plagiarism, modifying, translating, reposting are not allowed.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Safety First

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you get kidnapped, and the boys have to find a way to find you

Warnings: hurt feelings, reader gets drugged, kidnapped, and injured (slightly). Panic attack, angst with a happy ending

“Dean.” Your voice was thick with sleep as the Impala approached a bar late at night. “Why aren’t we going to the motel?”

“I want to stop in here first,” Dean grumbled. The day of driving had worn him down, and he’d been a bit grumpy for the past few hours. “Maybe we’ll find someone who saw something.”

“It’s late,” you complained. “Can’t we do that tomorrow? I mean, we already know that it’s probably vampires.”

“I’m not gonna take a chance on that just so you can go to sleep,” Dean snapped. “We can’t ever afford to be stupid with this job, you know that. Stay in the car if you want.”

And Dean was out of the car before Sam could tell him off for being a jerk.

“He’s just tired,” Sam offered lamely. “Why don’t you come in and get a soda or something, this shouldn’t take long,” he added, but he didn’t wait for a response as he followed Dean into the bar.

You swallowed a few times to try to lessen the lump in your throat as you climbed out of the car. You wrapped your arms around yourself as the cold air bit into your skin, cursing yourself for even opening your mouth. How could you be selfish like that when people were dying? Hadn’t dad and Dean always told you the hunt came first, especially when innocent people were in danger?

“We can’t ever afford to be stupid with this job.”

Dean was right—you were stupid, and now Dean thought you cared more about sleep than about being safe for the hunt.

You shuffled your way into the bar, trying to keep yourself from crying while also trying to convince yourself that Dean was just grumpy, and he would forget about your complaining before the night was even out. You didn’t want him to think that you were selfish or stupid.

You almost didn’t noticed when you entered the bar, except for the fact that you smacked face-first into someone’s chest.

“S-sorry,” you muttered, feeling worse than ever as you tried to squeeze around the poor person that you had just barreled into.

“No problem,” a honey-sweet voice tickled your ears as a kind face came into your view. A dark-haired man with a smile just as sweet as his voice was looking down at you. “I like your shirt,” he added.

“Oh…thanks,” you said, the corners of your mouth twitching into a smile, your gloomy mood lifting just a little. It was your favorite shirt, and any compliment right now helped your low spirits.

“You look like you’re having a rough night. Can I buy you a drink?”

“Oh, um…” your senses were suddenly raised. Who was this guy, and what did he want? You were obviously underage, so why…

“A soda,” he added quickly, sensing your unease. “I’m sorry, I must seem like kind of a creeper, it’s just…it’s not very common to see a kid in here—in fact, I’m surprised you got let in—and I want to make sure you’re ok. Are you…ok?”

You felt yourself relaxing just a bit—this was just a nice stranger concerned about a kid in a bar. Maybe your hunter’s sense wasn’t as good as you thought, and you’d just been nervous for nothing.

“I’m ok. My brothers are…around here somewhere. But I’d love a soda.”

“Great!” The man led you through the crowd of drunk adults and to a barstool. “A soda and a beer, please,” he said to the bartender, who glanced at you for a long moment before turning to get the drinks.

The dark haired man passed you your drink when the bartender placed it in front of him, and once you had it you found suddenly that you didn’t know what to do or say. You didn’t know anything about this guy, and you couldn’t really tell him anything about you, so what were you supposed to say? You took a long sip of your drink, trying to make the silence seem comfortable.

“Do your brothers take you to bars often?” The man asked, a hint of humor in his voice trying to mask obvious concern.

“Only when we go somewhere new,” you said, trying not to lie but also trying not to alarm the man. “I guess they think it’s a good way to meet new people.” You took another long sip, hoping that the man wouldn’t start to ask any hard questions. You didn’t want to lie to this kind stranger.

But he didn’t ask any more questions—which was good, because your exhaustion seemed to be catching up to you again. You found yourself struggling to lift your eyelids, and after a few unintentionally long blinks you began to look around for your brothers. You spotted Dean in a corner, and you were about to slide off your seat and go to him when you remembered what he’d said.

“I’m not gonna take a chance on that just so you can go to sleep.”

You would just have to force yourself to stay awake…

But for some reason, you couldn’t, and the harder you tried the more you felt your whole body starting to sag, drooping down like a melting ice cream cone.

Hands suddenly caught you under your arms as you slipped off your chair, and you vaguely registered that it was the dark haired stranger. You tried to speak, but your mouth was just too numb—it felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls, and even though you got your jaw to open, you couldn’t force any sound out.

Between sleepy blinks, your eyes found those of the dark haired man. You couldn’t quite tell because of the fog in your mind, but as you finally lost your grip on consciousness you could swear that the eyes that met yours were pitch black…

…

“Sam.” Sam turned to see his older brother behind him, glancing around the bar. “It’s time to go. Where’s Y/N?”

“She came in right behind me, I thought she went to find you,” Sam offered as he joined Dean in the glancing search.

“What? No I thought she was with you,” Dean replied, looking suddenly more panicked.

“Alright, I’ll check this half, you look over there,” Sam said, trying to ebb his rising fear.

Twenty minutes later, they still couldn’t find you. Sam had even sent some woman into the women’s bathroom to look for you, with no results. Dean got the same lack of you when he went to search the Impala.

“Do you think she ran off?” Dean voiced the concern that had been nagging his mind since the moment he couldn’t find you. “I…I didn’t mean to snap at her like that, really.”

“She wouldn’t have left because of that,” Sam assured him, having thought of the same thing. “You hurt her, I do know that, but she wouldn’t have run.”

Dean cringed at Sam’s words.

“I really screwed up, didn’t I?”

“Kind of,” Sam sighed. “You can apologize if we find her.”

“When we find her,” Dean corrected harshly, hoping that he was right.

…

Pain pounded behind your eyes before you even opened them. Once you did lift your eyelids, it took you several long, panicky seconds before you could even tell the difference between opened and closed.

It was nearly pitch black around you, with only vague shapes making themselves known in the darkness. The floor was rough and scratchy beneath you, and it was cold to the touch when you put your hands down to push yourself up. You only made it halfway to your feet before an unexpected force biting into your wrist held you down, and the shock of it dropped you back to your knees. The rattle of chains accompanied your fall.

“Hello?” Your voice echoed off stone walls, tinny and weak. No reply came.

You tugged at the chain on your wrist, and found that it only allowed about a couple feet of clearance, which was why you could barely stand with it attached to the floor.

The weight of your situation hit you at the same time as your memory…

The man—the demon!—from the bar. He must’ve slipped something into your drink, and now who knew where you were?

“Help!” You cried out between your sudden panicked gasps of breath. You rubbed at your chest as it began to tighten in fear. “Somebody help me, please!”

Your voice bounced uselessly off the walls, your own desperation mocking you as it reverberated back to your ears.

A harsh scraping preceded a sudden burst of light as a door you hadn’t been able to see against the far wall started to open.

“She’s awake!” The kind voice didn’t sound so kind anymore, and the gentle features were twisted into a sickening smirk. “And how is our little visitor?” The dark haired demon stepped into your cell, and the light pouring in through the open door allowed you to see his raven black eyes.

“Where am I?” You demanded. “What do you want?”

“Both of those questions are on a need to know basis, and you don’t,” the man responded, chuckling cruelly.

“It’s not gonna work,” you insisted. “It-it doesn’t matter what you’re doing, because my brothers—“

The stinging pain of a strong hand against your face stopped your threats. The man moved so quickly that you had barely even seen him step towards you before he’d swung, slapping you backwards so that the back of your head slammed against the stone wall and your wrist was stopped painfully by the chain around in. You staggered forwards, tasting blood and trying to get the rusted chain to settle at a different part of your wrist—one not cut from the abuse it had suffered.

“You talk too much,” the man growled. “Try to threaten me again, and you’ll get a lot worse.”

You didn’t speak as the man pulled a cell phone from his back pocket and dialed. After a moment, he spoke.

“Hello, Winchesters. Now now, there’s no need for threats, I just want to chat. I found your little sister, you see, and I’d like to give her back. However, I’ve hit a problem; you boys have been sniffing around where you shouldn’t. You’re in the wrong town, and I want you to leave. As soon as we know you’re gone, we’ll take this little brat of yours and put her on a bus, and she’ll be back to you safe and sound. If not…well, we’ll be shipping her in a tiny little box instead.”

You found yourself sinking to your knees as the demon talked to one of your brothers, exhausted from the pounding in your head and weak from fear.

“Oh?” The man’s tone suddenly changed, and you found yourself trying to melt into the shadows as you shrunk away from him. “You want proof, huh?” He pulled the phone away from his face, and suddenly his black eyes were on you. “Your big brothers don’t believe that you’re here. How about we fix that?” Almost before you could blink, your arm was twisted behind your back and the demon was yanking you to your feet. He twisted you around and shoved you face-first against the stone wall. The wall was just barely too far away from the chain around your wrist, but the force of the demon’s blow had your wrist twisting at an odd angle against the chain, and it was enough for your nose to crash against the rough stone.

The cry of pain left you before you could even think to stifle it. You could barely hear the muffled protests of your brothers on the phone before the demon put the phone back to his ear and spoke again.

“Now, was that enough or do I need to get some real screams from her?…Thats what I thought. Be out of town by tonight, or…well, you already know.”

The demon threw the phone against the wall, and it shattered. He was out the door by the time the last broken piece hit the floor, and a moment later the door swung shut and you were once again plunged into darkness.

…

“Did you track it?” Dean asked, waiting with bated breath for his little brother’s response.

“Yes.” Sam took a deep breath. “Dean, are you sure about this? Maybe if we leave, she’ll be safer.”

Dean shook his head.

“It’s a demon, Sam. He’s not going to let her go, he’s gonna kill her. We have to do this, we have to save her.”

“Alright,” Sam sighed. “Alright, let’s go.” He watched Dean for a moment before speaking again. “Are you ok?”

Dean ran a hand over his face.

“The last thing I said to her—“

“Don’t,” Sam snapped. “Don’t do that to yourself. We’re going to find her, and you’re going to apologize to her. That’s not gonna be the last thing you said to her, because we’re going to get her back.”

“She just wanted to go to sleep,” Dean muttered, not listening to Sam. “If we hadn’t gone into that bar—if I had just listened to her—“

“Dean, stop. We’re going to save her. I know we will.”

…

You hadn’t realized how dark it was, or how much you’d appreciated the light from the open door, until you lost it. Your breaths came up shallow and unsatisfying as you cradled your dislocated wrist to your chest. You curled your knees under you, folding in on yourself as you hyperventilated. You closed your eyes tightly and tried to imagine that your big brothers were here—like they were the last time you’d had a panic attack.

You were on a hunt, and a vampire had knocked you to the floor before jumping on top of you and biting into your neck. You shrieked and struggled as the pain flooded your system.

Dean arrived almost immediately, but he couldn’t get a clear shot to lob the vamp’s head off without risking slicing your throat. He dropped his machete and tried to wrench the vampire away from you, but it was no use until Sam was able to join him and together the two of them tore the vampire away. Once he was off, it took a simple swing from Dean to take care of him.

You were lying on the floor, lifting your head away from the pool of blood that now covered the floor.

“Dean,” you whimpered as your breathing shallowed. You gingerly touched your neck, panicking even more when you noticed that the bleeding wouldn’t stop. “Dean!” You cried out again, terrified as your throat constricted from your panic and your head spun from the blood loss.

“Hey, hey.” Dean’s hands were on your face, cradling it gently as his green eyes danced in front of you. “You’ve gotta breathe baby, just breathe.”

“I’ve got you.” You felt Sam’s arms around your shoulder as he helped you into a more comfortable sitting position and supported you up. “Breathe with me, ok? In…out…in…”

With Sam counting off your breaths and Dean repeating. “You’re ok sweetheart, you’re safe, you’re safe,” you were slowly able to breathe through your panic attack.

But you didn’t have Sam or Dean now, and you couldn’t seem to grab hold of a single comforting thought as you sobbed and choked over each breath, unable to get air in, and unable to stop panicking about the lack of air.

The sound of the door opening and the blinding light that came with it barely registered as you rocked back and forth on your knees. That is, until you were suddenly yanked to your feet and a pair of black eyes were staring into yours.

“Guess who just didn’t leave town,” he taunted, and it was then that you saw the gleaming knife gripped in his hand. “And guess who’s gonna pay for it.”

“You are.” Your brain had barely registered the sound of your big brother’s voice before the black-eyed man’s eyes glowed yellow, then dimmed as he slumped to the floor, dead. “Hey sweetheart.” Dean stood behind where the demon had just been, blood dripping off the demon blade in his hand.

“Dean.” Your breathing had evened a little, but you were still crying as you reached out for your big brother. Your arm was stopped by the chain as Dean stepped over the demon’s body and grabbed hold of your shoulders.

“Are you hurt? You’re bleeding! Are you—“ Dean’s eyes landed on the cuffs, and he quickly pulled out a lock pick and got to work on it. As soon as you were free, you tried to wrap your arms around Dean, but he kept his hands on your shoulders as he surveyed your injuries.

“Dean,” you whimpered. “I’m-I’m so sorry, I didn’t know he was a demon, I didn’t—“

“Hey, hey…” Dean soothed. “None of this was your fault, not one bit. You’re safe now, I’m gonna get you home.”

“Hey kiddo,” Sam’s voice in the doorway turned your attention. “Ohh you’re safe,” Sam breathed in relief as he pulled you into his arms.

“Sammy,” you sobbed as you gripped onto his arm with one hand, holding your injured wrist close to your chest to protect it.

“Are you hurt?” Dean was still tugging at your shoulder, trying to assess your injuries. He stopped his tugging when he heard your whimpers and saw you trying to burrow closer to Sam. “Hey, you ok?”

“I-I thought he…I thought he was gonna…he…” you couldn’t seem to voice the fears that flooded your mind and stopped your breath.

“I’ve got you.” Sam’s arms tightened around you. “Nobody’s gonna hurt you, you’re ok…you’re ok.”

“Commere.” Dean wrapped you in his arms when Sam pulled away to make sure no demons were coming. “I’m gonna get you home—you’re ok now, I swear.”

Sam and Dean led you out of your cell and out towards the Impala, Dean’s arm wrapped around you the whole way. As soon as you were in the Impala, Dean had your arm in his hand as he inspected your wrist.

“Dislocated,” he decided. “I’m gonna have to…”

“Just do it,” you sniffled, shutting your eyes tightly.

“I’ll do it,” Sam volunteered, glancing at Dean. The two of them had a psychic moment before Sam took your small wrist delicately in his big hands and Dean crouched in front of you.

“Are you gonna start making stupid jokes?” You asked, already smiling as Dean grinned.

“C’mon now, you love my jokes,” Dean said. “Now, a priest and a demon walk into a bar—“

Dean’s goofy grin and cocky attitude already had you giggling when Sam’s fingers suddenly stiffened on your wrist and he twisted it into place.

You hissed in pain, cringing.

“I know, I know,” Sam soothed, pulling you into his arms. “I know, you’re ok now.”

“Let me get the rest of you cleaned up,” Dean said, gesturing at the scratches on your face and the blood across your lips and chin from your nose.

Sam pulled away as Dean took a first aid kit out of the trunk. Dean glanced sideways at Sam, who took the cue and slipped into the passengers seat to give you at least the semblance of privacy.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said. “For what I said to you, how I acted…and for letting you get taken.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you sniffled as Dean rubbed antiseptic against your cuts. “I should’ve known he was a demon, I should’ve—“

“No,” Dean interrupted. “No, don’t do that. I should’ve been watching out for you, I—“

“Ok, enough!” Sam interrupted, shattering the illusion that he wasn’t listening. “It doesn’t matter whose fault it was. You’re ok now, and that’s all I care about.”

“I thought you wanted me to apologize,” Dean argued as a smile slowly crept onto his lips. Sam shook his head, unable to fight the lightheartedness that was creeping into the conversation. He chuckled—

“I wanted you to apologize for being a jerk, you idiot, not to have a fight about whose fault this was.”

You started to laugh, brushing the tears off your cheeks as you smiled. Dean turned to look at you, the grin still etched on his face.

“Commere you,” he said, pulling you back into his arms. “Sam’s right, I’m just glad you’re ok.”

“Me too,” you mumbled into his shoulder as you relaxed in his arms. Sam reached back, ruffling your hair.

“Me three.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee

[g1rld1ary]

I feel like you’d eat up this idea so much but Camp Counselor James Potter!!

Where its semi frenemies to lovers after James unexpectedly becomes head camp counselor alongside reader, thus forcing them closer as they have to work together. I’d imagine James as a sports/swim instructor who the campers adore and reader as an arts and crafts teacher who James has liked for years since they met at camp (even before they became counselors.)

summer friends - camp counselor!james potter x camp counselor!reader

wc: 2816

cw: swearing, implied fem!r but i don't think any pronouns, alcohol, throwing up (once)

first of all thank u so much for the compliment anon i hope i am doing it justice!! i actually love this idea and so there's gonna be more parts because i have so many fun lil camp ideas already HOWEVER we don't rlly have summer camps where I'm from so if u wanna see anything specific (activity/trope etc) please request!!! love u xoxo

It was stinking hot already. The clock in your car was broken so you weren't sure exactly what time it was, but you were sure it was too early to have sweat dripping from your brow. Nine, maybe. Still, nothing could bring down your present mood, not the sweat, not the early morning on a weekend, not even that your Fleetwood Mac CD kept skipping during The Chain. No, you were in the best mood you'd been in in a while and nothing could ruin it.

You were headed back to camp. Your camp. It was your first year as head counselor at the camp you'd grown up in and you were filled to the brim with excitement and drive to make this summer as magical as the ones you had growing up. Pulling into the dirt parking space you sighed contently, glad to be back where you belonged.

It was weird to see the camp almost empty. You'd been a general counselor before so you'd seen the camp without kids, but being one of the first there in the morning was peaceful. You waved cheerfully at one of the cooks who'd been working since you were a kid, laughing as he tried to return the gesture over the boxes he was hustling into the kitchen.

You broke into a jog to catch up with the camp director who you needed to meet with, smiling widely when he greeted you. You made small talk as he led you around the camp, giving directions to some of the staff setting up in between his extended spiel explaining your duties. You really were trying to listen but you couldn't help your eyes darting to each movement in the corner of your vision. The other head counselor should have been here already, and it wasn't like him to be late. Michael was one of the many kids you'd grown up with through summers, and he was just as devoted to camp as you were, so it wasn't surprising he also made head counselor, but it was surprising that he was now late.

"Where's Michael?" You asked when the director took a breath. He turned to look at you, one eyebrow raised slightly.

"Didn't we tell you? Michael had a health scare, he can't work this summer." You could feel your mouth hanging open. The two of you had been talking about this for years, dreaming of becoming the head counselors.

"So who's—"

"Nothing like the fresh air, is there?" Your shoulders tensed just by the timbre of it, you could recognise that voice anywhere.

"Potter," You turned to greet him, ponytail swinging behind you.

"No need for last names, love, I saw your braces phase," James retorts and you huff, rolling your eyes dramatically.

"Yeah, yeah, and I've got pictures of your acne. So you're really my partner this summer?" James didn't bother replying, his cocky grin saying it all. You felt the director's eyes on both of you and refrained from another snip in fear of it undermining your leadership, but still shot James a dead-eyed smile to let him know you weren't done.

You were dismissed to settle in until the other counselors arrived for briefing after a few other business matters (for which both you and James stayed civil and responsible) and all but ran to your car, eager to get the moving in part over with as quick as possible.

After so many years of making camp your home away from home, you'd pretty much nailed the routine of packing and unpacking, and your part of the four-girl cabin was taking shape very nicely if you did say so yourself. You even had time to stick up the photos you'd printed out, which usually took at least a week to happen. You were just wiping the sweat off your face with the hem of your t-shirt when someone cleared their throat. You didn't need to guess who it was.

James was leaning against the doorframe, looking unfairly unperturbed by the heat.

"Sorry your dream boy couldn't be here," He said and you couldn't quite tell if he was joking.

"Michael and I—"

"Relax, I was talking about your real boyfriend, remember?" You paused at his statement, studying your painted fingers intently.

"We broke up," You said quietly, not daring to look at James in fear of him teasing you about it. You consequently missed the flash of curiosity (and maybe relief) that passed across his features.

"Sorry," He said awkwardly, still under the doorframe.

"It's fine. He's a dickhead."

"I could have told you that last summer!" He laughed, then slapped a hand over his mouth as he realised it might have been too far. You managed a small laugh yourself, if only to make him feel better about his misstep.

"Yeah, yeah. Last summer you also thought swallowing gum would fuse your insides together."

"And I stand by that! You should just learn to listen to me," He crowed, eyes sparkling with mischief. You rolled your eyes again, pushing yourself off the bed to reapply your deodorant.

"If I ever start listening to you, take it as a sign I'm losing my marbles," You said, ducking under the arm James had stretched across the doorframe, "Now come on, everyone'll be arriving." You don't stop to see if he's following, marching out of your cabin and toward the dining hall where the counselors would convene. James watched you go for a moment with a soft grin before jogging to catch up and bother you some more.

The dining hall was already buzzing with energy and noise and the campers hadn’t even arrived yet. You smiled as you watched the counselors meet and mingle, some of them being kids you’d grown up with almost your whole life.

“Everything the light touches is our kingdom,” James’ whisper appeared from behind you.

“You are so lame.” You don’t bother looking at him, convinced you knew exactly what face he’d be pulling. “Now make yourself useful and greet everyone.” You might have been a little rude, but it was clear to you that this job wasn’t nearly as important to James as it was to you. Head counselor was something you’d been working towards since you’d started at camp, and you would like to keep the gig through college if James didn’t ruin it for you.

A booming noise silenced the room, and you were surprised to know it came from James. He started off the address for you outlining all the boring housekeeping notices you could recite in your sleep. They were almost exactly the same every year, except for James’ insistence on being the funniest in the room and making jokes after every other statement.

“As you know if you find any contraband in the camper’s belongings report it to the camp director, especially if it’s an illicit substance, as there may be serious discipline. However, if it’s alcohol, slip into into my cabin ‘coz god knows I’ll need a drink after dealing with the kids and this one.” He gestured over to you, receiving a ripple of laughter throughout the room. You grit your teeth, trying not to react and be the bad cop of camp.

“Just so we’re all clear,” You faked a laugh, “None of the campers or counselors will be ingesting or posessing alcohol while at camp. Right guys?” You locked eyes with the camp director, trying to bring him down from the conniption he was on the verge of. It worked, mostly, and you took over from James, shooting him a warning glare as you rushed to finish listing off the timetable for the coming evening and next day as campers arrived.

In his defence though, James wasn’t exactly wrong. Although the camp director could never ever find out for the sake of all your jobs, there was definitely a stash of alcohol that all the counselors contributed to and had access to, though strictly when there was no risk of campers or higher ups finding out. Like tonight. Every year before the campers arrived the counselors held a campfire right out in the forest; far enough away that there was almost no risk of the adult-adults finding them, but close enough that drunk walks back to the cabin weren’t quite impossible.

That brought you to the campfire. You’d been stuck in meetings and doing last minute admin all night and you really needed the break. You could only look at schedules and spreadsheets for so long anyway, add James to the mix and you were going absolutely crazy.

You’d snagged a spot next to Lily, hugging her tight as you reunited.

“I can’t believe you’re stuck with Potter,” She said, taking a sip from some ungodly drink one of the counselors had mixed. You laughed as you pulled away and greeted Remus quickly, taking the can of cider he offered.

“I’m just thanking my lucky stars it wasn’t him three years ago.” You shook your head resolutely, “At least now I’m sure he’s human. I just hate that he’s gonna make me bad cop all summer.” Remus cocked his head in confusion and Lily asked for clarification so you continued.

“You know, James is always the funny one, James is always the chill one. I’m the one who’s gonna have to spoil the fun and enforce the rules.”

“That’s not true though, you might be the one sticking to the rules but you’ve been here just as long. Everyone knows and loves you, and you’ll have just as much fun even if you aren’t quite as go-with-the-flow,” Lily said, a comforting hand resting on your arm.

“Prongs might surprise you,” Remus said, clearly taking a different approach, “I think when it matters he’ll step up to the plate.” You looked at him for a moment, considering his philosophy. You chanced a glance over at James to see him halfway through a game of beer pong — losing badly in fact, and sighed. If he, the head sport and swim counselor, was losing at a game consisting of throwing then he must’ve already been smashed.

He caught your eye at just the wrong (or right) moment and waved you over with such excitement that you excused yourself from the conversation to see what he wanted.

“Sirius needs a teammate,” He said simply, gesturing for you to go over and play. You shook you head furiously.

“So you’re asking the arts and crafts leader? I have zero coordination.”

“Yeah, and? You’re competitive and that’s all that matters. Consider it our head counselor bonding time.” You looked at James for a moment, weighing out the pros and cons in your head. You figured it couldn’t be that bad even if you embarrassed yourself, and you really didn’t want the other counselors to think you had a stick up your arse after getting the position. So, you reciprocated the high five Sirius had offered and got in position.

The game went shit, as could have been assumed. You really didn’t have an ounce of coordination, your throws missing most of the cups. Sirius was better, making your team at least not totally hopeless, but the two of you were no match for the machines that were James and Marlene — though both significantly worsened by their inebriated states. You were providing the trash talk though, which seemed to keep everyone entertained

“Ok new game!” James clapped after you’d downed the last drink, “Sirius, switch with me.”

“What! But I like my partner!” You high-fived Sirius again at his declaration, now sufficiently buzzed from the shitty beer you’d been using.

“Yeah, we’re doing just fine, Potter. Worry about yourself.” It came out a bit louder and more aggressive than you intended, but James didn’t seem to mind — none of you were sober enough to be picking up on the intricacies of human communication. James mimed a stab to his heart dramatically.

“You kill me,” He groaned, leaning on the folding table in despair. You laughed loudly, holding up your hand in the shape of an L to rub it in. After rubbing it in for a moment you conceded, stomping your way to his side of the table, patting Marlene on the shoulder as you swapped places.

“Alright, Potter, let’s get this round over with so I can kick your arse again.” James’ grin was practically blinding as he brightened up, getting ready to play another match. You might’ve been getting a little too competitive, but it was camp and you were drunk, so everyone around the table was matching your energy tenfold.

“Are you actually capable of getting a ball in a cup? You’re genuinely so terrible at this,” James laughed as he said it but you took it personally, shoving him aside.

“Piss off, dickhead. Just because you’re a big shot athlete or whatever.” You must have finally struck a nerve in James as he was quiet for the rest of the game, still much more skilled than you but his energy significantly dampened. Even when you won, he only offered you a weak smile and a pathetic high five. You felt bad for a moment and opened your mouth to apologise, but your inebriated brain was distracted by music playing, running over to Lily to ask her to dance.

You were at the stage of being drunk where everything was perfect. The day’s heat had mellowed out into a dreamy summer night, a soft breeze rustling the leaves above you all as you danced and drank, reuniting after a long year apart.

You might’ve overdone it slightly though, which found you a little ways away from the rest of the party, emptying your stomach into a bush where hopefully none of the campers would stumble across it. Looking past your unfortunate accident you caught a glimpse of a dark shape on the bank of the river. Narrowing your eyes you tried to make out who it was, but settled on getting closer instead. You hesitated when you made it out to be James.

“Hey, Potter. You alright?” You called awkwardly, a little unwilling to get too close.

“Hm?” He looked back at you, voice uncharacteristically quiet. “Yeah, fine.” You sighed. He was clearly upset about something and you couldn’t just end the conversation there, no matter how much you didn’t want to have a DnM with James Potter on night one of camp.

Reluctantly you got closer, taking a seat next to him. You watched the lake for a few minutes, black except for the silver from the moon. It was peaceful when there weren’t so many people around, it was one of your favourite things about camp, just being outside and disconnected from the rest of your life.

James broke the silence first.

“Do you… Are you mad that I’m co-head counselor?” You chanced a glance at him, surprised at the vulnerability in his voice. James wasn’t usually one to get sappy or personal like that, especially not with you.

“No?” You replied, “It wasn’t what I imagined, obviously, but it’s not like I hate you. You’re just mildly infuriating like 80% of the time.” James snorted, and you got the feeling he’d intended to wallow a bit longer. But James was James and he couldn’t stay moody for too long, it wasn’t in his nature.

“I can work with that.” He smiled his blinding grin, and you could have sworn you could see it reflecting off the water.

“We have to be a team though,” You affirmed; now was as good a time as any for you to address it. “I know that your whole bright and lively class clown thing is effortless for you, but I don’t wanna be the bad cop all the time, okay?” James was deep in thought for a second, then a cheeky grin crept onto his features.

“You think I’m bright and lively?”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes, but you weren’t sure you weren’t returning his smile. “Come on, let’s get to bed. Neither of us can afford to be hungover when the kids get here.”

You and James wandered back towards the cabins, both hazy and giggly from the lasting drunkenness and the (at least temporary) smoothing over of your tenuous relationship.

[betelgo0ze]

Obi-Wan and Anakin are implied and outright confirmed to have seen each other as brothers, but I’d like to take this a step forward by defending my weird ass helluva boss inspired headcanon: Anakin also sees him as his father(only sometimes)

Anakin was nine when Obi-Wan took him, and a nine year old probably can’t separate an old person from an older person. Yes, he knows Obi-Wan is younger than the other Jedi Masters, but he doesn’t think about it like that. To him, Obi-Wan is on the same “level” and age is just another factor in his mind. Obi-Wan isn’t going to sit him down and explain that the only reason he’s his master is because Qui-Gon died and that every day he walked on thin ice around the other masters, being the youngest and knighted on a technicality. Anakin would soon realize this on his own in his early teens and after a long conversation he came to learn that Obi-Wan regretted nothing that had happened. It was hard, yes, but Obi-Wan loved Anakin with all his heart and Anakin saw Obi-Wan as respectable as Mace or Yoda even. He put Obi-Wan on a pedestal so it’s easy to see how Anakin, meeting him at nine, having him be in a parental position, not having a father of his own, may see him as a father.

Yes, there brothers in every sense of the word, but Obi-Wan still raised Anakin and was probably the worlds best teen mom who’s a guy. I love the idea of him fretting over Anakin and calling him “Ani” to sooth him or just randomly whenever it slipped.

I bring up helluva boss due to that one scene in episode 8(pretty sure eps8) where loona calls Blitzø dad.

Again, Anakin sees Obi wan as a brother now but as a kid he saw him as a father.

all this to say I like the idea that if Obi ever got a major injury or was in trouble or simply in trouble or a hostage situation whatever- he might let “dad” slip

Ashoka never mentions it bc she understands it’s a confusing topic, there brothers yes, but Anakin has still referred to him as his “father” in dire situations.

think drunk Obi(inevitable)who’s probably a sad drunk eight beers in(idk how alcohol works, party animal until sad ig)and Anakin might be the one that night to help him into bed and rub his back as he throws up. He’d probably have to reassure him that he’s a good master and a good general, and feels more comfortable letting “dad” slip.

Ok this is poorly written but in my defense I’m dyslexic it’s flooding where I am and I don’t have time to un-dyslexia my post and by that I mean beta’ing it twenty times

also never mentioned anywhere in this post but Codywan exists and he’s probably called Cody dad too only bc I say so

[webslingingslasher]

Hii Ik your resquests are currently closed so you obvs don’t have to do it but when you’re up for it could you please do a part 2 w nerdy Peter on their first date. But take your time to rest and everything just thought I’d put this in for good measure ❤️

*cleaning out my drafts*

pt 1.

'first time?' peter slightly turns, it's an older man, probably mid forties and he gets an instant dad vibe. he's comfortable nodding at his question.

he's been standing in front of bouquets for at least seven minutes, nothing seems right. peter wants to make the best impression, but what if he got your least favorite flowers?

'is it a date?'

peter nods again, 'yeah. and she's super out of my league.'

the dad smiles, 'they usually are.' then steps up, he takes his time looking over each flower wrapped in cellophane.

'there's not much to go wrong on, kid. don't get the artificially dyed ones and choose something with some flowers that haven't opened up all the way. they'll last longer and smell better.'

peter feels alright with speaking his nerves to him, 'what if she hates them?'

his temporary mentor picks up a bouquet, it looks beautiful, he was right. the plastic is pushed into peter's chest, his hand wraps around the stems. 'then you bought flowers for an asshole, don't make the same mistake twice.'

it makes peter feel better, he really doesn't think he's buying flowers for an asshole.

-----

you like them. at least he thinks you do, your face lit up and you were quick to do a smell test. you even told him he did a good job at picking them out.

'these are beautiful, peter!' he's lucky he didn't buy flowers for an asshole. you delicately set them down, 'these are going in my room, by the way.' you didn't dare share the beauty with the rest of the house.

'i'm glad you like them,' he really is. peter feels the need to add how nice you look, he's not too sure on how to compliment a woman but he knows he has to try.

'you um, you look very pretty.' yikes, that sounds like he doesn't think you're pretty the rest of the time. 'you always look very pretty, but this is a different kind, like, cause it's the first time i've seen you all dressed up.'

did he just tell you he likes you better this way? peter widens his eyes, the date hasn't even started and he's already sweating. 'i mean, you didn't have to dress up for me, wait, no, you dressed for yourself. but i just meant...' he really doesn't know what he meant, but you look entirely way too amused at his fluster.

'keep going, i'm really enjoying this.'

a gentle tease at his nervous personality. he really likes it coming from you.

'i'd rather not.'

you smile wide, 'i love hearing how pretty i am tonight, but actually all the time, but differently this time, but also not. and how you like my outfit, but not too much, because all my other outfits look just as good and i definitely don't dress for the male gaze.'

it sounds like you're making fun of him, but your smile tells him you actually really like it.

'don't worry, peter. i'd act the same way if you were in a tux.' peter glances down, 'should i go put one on?' biting your lip at his joke, you push his shoulder, 'next time.'

peter's head is spinning when you pull him out the door by his hand, it's been five minutes and there's already another? you must have a thing for socially awkward guys.

---

peter watches you glance around the restaurant, he hopes he picked good. it's nice, but not nice enough to be weird.

'you're pulling out all the stops for me, mr. parker.'

peter hopes you don't notice his blush, he thinks you do when you lean closer. 'i mean, flowers and a medium fancy restaurant? you're raising my standards very quickly.'

you mean it, too. peter knows he has no experience under the belt but you've been on a few dates, nothing that stuck from what he's overheard but he can't fathom how this tops any of it.

'really? i thought you would've had better dates.'

you hum, 'maybe. one question for you, then i can let you know if this is the best date.' peter can handle that, he's good at questions. 'i'm ready.'

'what can i get to drink?'

peter tilts his head, he might not be that good at questions. 'anything you want?'

it's the right answer, you grin across the table. 'i can get a coke and you won't cheap out on me?'

peter laughs, that's what he was up against? 'so i can pay for a dinner but draw the line at soda?'

you don't directly confirm it, 'some would.'

'as long as it's not rootbeer, i'm alright with it.' your eyebrow raises, 'not a fan?' peter scoffs, 'it's like the kitchen sink of sodas, it poured all the leftovers into a giant vat and lied to everyone about liking it.'

you laugh quietly, 'who's it?'

peter is completely serious, 'capitalism.' you bite back a grin as he shifts forward a little. 'so, um, was your dad mad that you canceled for me?' your fingers tap the table, 'nope. not when i told him why.'

'wow, the first dad i know who's okay with their daughter dating.'

you stop him, 'oh, he's not crazy about the dating part. he likes the who.'

peter can't help but feel slightly offended, 'am i really that non-threatening?' suddenly your dad was okay when he was the suitor? peter really is out of his league and everyone knows it.

'oh no, you're the most threatening of them all. you're the only guy i've ever liked, so my dad was excited for me, but also a little scared because you're the strongest bet at his daughter dating someone.'

peter's heart is thumping harder than it ever has, if he wasn't in your eyesight he'd be counting his pulse. he wants to kick himself a little, he has no idea how much time he's wasted by not asking sooner. how many guys have you wished were him?

he's not able to respond, but you don't mind. the waiter has your attention, when he asks for your drink you shoot a look at peter with a gleam in your eye.

'do you have rootbeer?'

peter thinks he's gonna have a girlfriend real soon.

-----

on the walk back to your home, you had forced your fingers between his. peter can't remember the last time he held hands with someone, but it feels nice holding yours.

you swing them back and forth as you talk, he thinks the deal was secured when he brushed chocolate crumbs off your cheek from dessert because immediately after you had tied your hand into his and held him close.

'i had a very nice night, and just in case you need me to say it, that was the best date i've ever had.'

peter feels shy, but it's welcomed with you. 'you're just saying that cause i bought you rootbeer.'

you bump your elbow against his, 'next time i'll buy you a milkshake.' you weren't lying, you had a nice night. so nice you want to do it again and if peter's really lucky, you'll want to keep doing it forever.

'careful, i'll hold you to that.' he really will, peter loves milkshakes.

'i will, i love milkshakes. i have a secret place i go to all the time in the west village.' peter's eyes widen, 'west village? that's a haul for a milkshake.'

you press a hand to your forehead, 'oh no! a whole afternoon with you, how yucky!' peter hides his smile, it's nice that you want him around. 'if we get milkshakes does that mean you want a second date?'

'yes. and if i do good enough you might want a third out of me.' peter laughs, it's adorable you think he might want a third date. 'we might as well plan the fourth one now, huh?'

you bounce your arm off his. 'i think you should kiss me.' peter's jolted from his date daydream. kiss? peter plays it cool. 'what, right now?' he can't hide anything, you hear an undertone of panic but you skim over it.

'well, i'd prefer if it wasn't at my front door where i'm at risk of being seen because if my dad catches you all over me before he could meet you, i don't think he'll like you anymore.'

'so i should kiss you? right now?' peter's voice is hitched, you didn't mean to throw him off his game. you know he's a little more reserved so you were giving him the open shot, but you think you stressed him out even more.

'you don't have to! i was just offering because i thought you were going to try and do something at my door.'

peter's thankful for the night sky and the cool breeze that's chilling his burning face. 'i've never kissed anyone.' peter stops walking because you stopped. you've got an open jaw and a dead stare on him.

'repeat that.'

he'd rather not. 'i've never kissed anyone.'

you shake your head, the words aren't making sense. 'one more time.'

this is kind of a nightmare. 'i've never kissed anyone.'

'you're lying, right? this is a joke?' why is peter feeling a little insulted right now? 'it's not weird. i know several people who haven't kissed anyone yet.'

you scrunch your face up. 'no, peter, i'm not judging you because you haven't. i'm confused about how you haven't. like, no girl has ever tried to kiss you?'

'no.' it's an instant answer.

'not even as a kid or something?'

'never.'

you feel offended on his behalf, oh well, more for yourself. you stand straighter and give him what he's been missing out on. 'if you'd let me, i'd love to kiss you.'

'really?' sure, peter might've scored a second date but a kiss too? his first one at that. 'yeah.' you step up, peter can feel his heart pounding. he knows he's awkward, he's unsure of his stance, he doesn't know how to lean into it.

'it's instinct. don't panic, okay?' easier said than done because peter swears he's at risk of throwing up when you loop your arms around his neck. you bounce up on your feet, just a tad, the rest of your weight brings peter down to your level.

there's a brief moment of nerves but they're not bad. it's exciting, it's thrilling, it's new. your gaze bounces between his eyes and his mouth, you think he catches on and does the same.

one final moment before you seal the deal, peter parker is going to be all yours. your heart races when you lean in, your lips brush against his feather soft.

one, two- you swear sparks fly. peter's warm and gentle. he's unsure and it makes the kiss so much better. a hesitant hold on your hips when your chest bumps his, you add a little movement- you're not trying to add too much, but god, you'd pay fat dollars to explore him further.

peter pulls away first, you almost claw him back into you. 'i'm sorry.' you lightly shake your head, he has nothing to be sorry for. 'i think i'm bad at kissing.'

'you couldn't be farther from the truth, parker. you're the best one.'

peter doesn't believe you for a second. 'really?'

'yeah. cause it's you.'

peter melts. 'i think you're an angel sent from heaven for me.' peter isn't sure if he's religious or not, and he was leaning towards not but now he thinks there has to be angels because you're proof of one.

you look away, you've never been complimented like that before. an unearthly creature whose only purpose was divine intervention, how could you not give him another kiss?

peter's surprised at this one.

'what was that for?'

'because you're really nice, super smart and kind of the hottest person i've ever seen.' compliments? you're giving him compliments? 'that's nice, but i think you're talking to yourself.'

you frown. a true grumpy look crosses over your face. 'don't do that. don't sell yourself short or act like you're not deserving of praise because i'm going to be doing a lot of it and i need you to accept it.'

before he could try to fight it, you start pulling him along. you do have a curfew after all. peter's fighting back disbelief. 'angel. i swear you're an angel.'

you shrug, 'i'm your angel.'

'you are.'

when you get home, you get a third kiss. and this time, peter kisses you. 

[fluentmoviequoter]

Tim Through the Years - Meet the Class

Series Masterlist

Summary: Tim meets your class of 25 five-year-olds. 1.2k+ words.

“Hey, can I run something by you?” you asked Tim while you were having lunch at his desk.

Tim looked up at you mid-bite of his shared sandwich. He chewed quickly and asked, “Of course, is everything okay?”

You softly bit your lip. “Yes. I know you aren’t a fan of community outreach, but will you come to my class and talk about safety and what to do in an emergency?”

Tim gave you his million-dollar smile “I’d be more than happy to come and talk to your class. I get to spend a whole morning with a beautiful lady.” He leans over and kisses you. “I also get the added bonus of being away from Lucy, too.”

You shoved him slightly. “I think you like the latter more.”

“Hey, that’s police brutality. I might have to handcuff you to this desk all day and then you’ll have to hang out with me.” Tim smiled as he spoke.

“Aw! You two are just so cute!” Lucy said when she walked up to the desk.

“Hi Lucy, how are you?” you turned and asked her.

“I’m doing well! Do you think we can have a girls night with me, you, Angela, Nyla and Bailey? We could go paint pottery or watch a movie or go laser tag or…." Before Lucy could finish, Tim sent her a glare.

“Can I help you with something, Officer Chen?” Tim growled out.

“Our suspect is ready to talk,” Chen said to Tim.

“I’ll see you later,” Tim told you as he kissed the top of your head.

“Bye Tim! Bye Lucy! We definitely have to get together soon!”

You wave them off as you pack up and leave. 

You paced back and forth before school started, waiting on Tim to arrive. You were extremely nervous because your students, while awesome, were very protective of you. They’ve stopped a presentation before because the man who was talking about his job told the class that they could do better than being a teacher. The poor guy got booed and slightly bullied by the group of 5-year-olds, so you just hope that today goes over well. Tim texted you to let you know that he would be a little late due to the fact he saw a crime being committed right in front of him.

When the bell finally rang, your group of students walked into the classroom all chatting away with each other. They put their bags up and sat down in the respective seats (it took a while for them to get down). 

“Good morning everyone!” you tell the class when the second bell rang.

“Good Morning Miss. Winchester!” they responded. 

You started the morning off with doing some freeze dance to get the kids ready to start the day. When that was done, you picked up right where you left off from yesterday. Some students still shouted out answers, but others would remember and raised their hands. You found it adorable how much they enjoy getting to learn. Soon, there was a knock at the door. 

“Class, we have a very special guest today who is going to talk to us about safety.” You walked up to the door, you let Tim and, to your surprise, two more officers in.

“IS THAT A DOG?!?!?!” a student named Ashley shouted.

All the students erupted in excitement, and you had to use your quiet hand gesture to try and settle the class as Tim, a K9 officer, and a small dog walked up to the front of the class. 

“Class, Meet Sergeant Bradford from the LAPD,” you announced to the students.

“Good morning, students, as you heard, I’m Sergeant Bradford, and today I’m talking about safety. Firstly, I brought two special guests with me, Officer Stan with his K-9 Officer Fuzz.”

Officer Stan smiled and greeted the students as Officer Fuzz, a small dachshund, barked excitedly as a greeting.

“I brought Officer Fuzz in today so you can understand what a K-9 is used for and when to approach one,” Tim explained.

“Officer Fuzz is used like any other police officer; he helps us find bad guys and can catch bad guys faster than we can. Officer Fuzz can run up to 20 miles per hour, so we typically send him in to run after someone. Officer Fuzz also helps smell out bad stuff for us to take away. You can approach a police dog at any time with permission from the Officer. If you do see a police dog chasing after someone or he looks angry, do not approach. He could accidentally hurt you because he’s trying to protect his fellow officers or trying to stop someone,” Officer Stan explained. “Any questions?”

Lots of hands flew into the air, so you called on a girl named Hanna to ask the first question. “Does Officer Fuzz stay at the station all the time?”

“That’s a great question! No, Officer Fuzz is technically my dog. So, when I get off work, he gets to go home and be with me. He also goes in when I do, so just like me, Officer Fuzz gets to be a normal dog when he’s not working,” Stan said.

The students continued their questions about Officer Fuzz and his handler. Before Officer Stan had to leave to go back to work, he released Officer Fuzz so he could run around and receive pets from everyone. Officer Fuzz ran up to you last and laid on his back for belly rubs.

“Aren’t you the cutest?” You bent down and gave the tail-wagging dog belly rubs.

“You might have some competition, Bradford,” Stan said with a smile and slightly nudged Tim. Stan called back Officer Fuzz and they both left with waves of goodbyes and a huge “Thank you!” from your students.

“Hello again! I want to tell everyone what to do if they feel unsafe or lost. If you get away from your mommy or your daddy, find a store worker or an officer to help you find your mom or dad. If you are in danger or hurt, call 911 and we will do everything we can to help you. Do we have any questions?”

“What do you do as a Sergeant?” Logan, a young student, asked.

“I am everyone’s boss; I tell them what to do and make sure their job is getting done. I am currently training someone to become a police officer, they are called a Rookie,” Tim explained.

Your students asked as many questions as they could until the lunch bell rang, and the class let out a collective grown in disappointment. 

“Can we have lunch with Sergeant Bradford?” Wade asked, and the other students jumped in to agree.

“I don’t think Sergeant Bradford can stay any longer, he does have to leave at some point,” you said softly.

“I can stay for lunch,” Tim said with a smile. The class cheered and you sent them to get their lunches and to have a private moment with Tim.

“You didn’t have to stay,” you said to Tim as you looked up at him.

“I’m more than happy to. Your students are wonderful,” Tim said with a smile, and kissed the top of your head.

“Did Miss Winchester fix your heart?” Johnny asked Tim, startling both of you. 

Tim smiled and looked at you. “Yeah, she did,” he answered, which caused you to blush.

Johnny’s eyes got all big and he quickly ran out to the other students.

“Guys!!!! Sergeant Bradford is Miss. Winchester’s husband!!”

You then hear a loud scream of joy and all the students running in to ask the both of you a million questions about this new revelation. It was going to be a very long afternoon. 

[jayflrt]

𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐒 49. #STARBUCKS_FIRST_WIN

IN A MATTER OF HOURS, YOUR COWORKER PIZZA PARTY HAD TURNED INTO A FULL-ON GATHERING. 

Not only had Heeseung and his group joined you, but the employees from Peet’s had dropped by, too. Soon, Chan and Renjun’s apartment was packed with everyone sitting in a circle and scarfing down the boxes of pizza. You thought it would just be Chaewon and Aeri coming over, but you knew things were getting serious once Jungkook, who Chaewon told you was notorious for never doing anything that required energy, showed face.

Obviously, no one expected the number of heads to double, so the pizza ran out soon after Heeseung arrived. Sunghoon took the liberty of exercising his Papa John’s employee privilege to pick up more pizza. It was even better than the pizza you all previously bought, and it was plenty for everyone to enjoy.

“Is this, like, a Starbucks-finally-burned-down party?” Wonbin asked before Aeri sharply jabbed him in the side. “Sorry, I meant an oh-no-Starbucks-burned-down party.”

“That wasn’t any better, Wonbin,” Aeri deadpanned. 

“We got our customer connection score report today,” Chan answered, finishing chewing the last of his pizza before continuing, “and we got the highest score in the district. We’ve never gotten a score over thirty before, and today our score was in the eighties.”

“Maybe they felt bad for you,” Jungkook suggested.

“Shut up.”

Heeseung turned to you, wide-eyed and breaking into a grin. “You guys got best in the district?”

“Yeah—number one! I was gonna text you about it.” Although you two were sitting next to each other, shoulder-to-shoulder, you still slid your hand into his. “We were almost tied with Starbucks in second place, so your survey really helped us.”

He squeezed your hand. “Totally worth the mermaid cosplay.”

Renjun raised his voice to say, “Riki, you should give us a speech, since you've been losing your mind over our customer connection score.” 

Minjeong, who was sitting between Jake and Aeri, let out a snicker. “Yeah, you’re the one who almost failed trigonometry over Starbucks.”

“I didn’t fail, for your information! I got a passing score,” Riki said with a huff.

Sunoo leaned back on his hands. “Yeah, a D.”

“And D’s get degrees, Sunoo,” Riki fired back before standing up. He raised up his glass of water, clearing his throat. “I was but a mere child when I first joined Starbucks. I didn’t know much about the world around me or the tribulations I’d face in my journey to becoming the best Starbucks in this district. However, today, I’ve become a man.”

(Sunghoon rubbed the back of his neck. “This kid makes me feel like I smoked a pack whenever he opens his mouth.”)

Riki continued, “I wanna thank Chan for always looking after me and being, like, my second father, even when I pissed him off every single shift, or when I used his credit card to buy LED lights, or when I made a weed frappuccino past closing hours, or when I forged his signature to get out of class, or—”

“You forged what?” Chan interjected, distraught.

“Anyway, moving on.” Riki waved off the store manager’s concerns and said, “I also wanna thank Jay for always being on my side, even when the odds were against me. And Renjun, I wanna thank you for always giving me credit when it’s due. Sunoo, you’re the best shift lead I could’ve asked for, even though I’d probably throw you under the bus for your job. Minjeong, I think you’re insane, but I appreciate that you strike fear in our hearts when necessary.” 

At that, Minjeong gave Riki a high-five, which was a little too forceful and left the kid’s hand stinging. 

Riki’s eyes then met yours and he softened his gaze. “Y/N, we all had our doubts about you when you joined, but you’re totally part of the Starbucks family now. I just really wanna thank you especially for letting me cover your shift so that I could get a bonus.”

Your smile dropped. “Man, fuck you.”

“I’m just here for the pizza,” Anton admitted, “but that was sweet… I think.”

Jay seemed to be wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. You were surprised that his eyes actually seemed to be glistening.

"That was a beautiful speech, Riki," he praised the high schooler.

“Thank you, Jay. I’ll miss you guys when I go to Harvard,” Riki finished.

“Your ass is not going to Harvard,” Jake said flatly.

The rest of the night was spent eating, talking, and watching the Harry Potter movies together. While some of the boys went outside for a smoke sesh, you and the girls discussed plans to get an apartment together for the next year. Since you lived alone, you figured it was about time you experienced living with your friends. Chaewon shared a Pinterest board with everyone to start pinning interior decoration inspiration. You and Minjeong were completely useless in that area of expertise, so you offered to help with picking out more practical things, such as kitchen and bathroom essentials.

You already knew that Heeseung was going to continue living with Sunghoon for the next year, but you were content with that. You weren’t sure you were exactly ready to move in with your boyfriend or anything, so you thought it was best that you two lived separately for the next year. The student apartments were close, anyway. 

When your boyfriend returned, his eyes slightly glossed over, you tugged on his sleeve to get his attention. He leaned down so that his ears were by your lips. 

“Ask them if they wanna watch the Mario movie,” you whispered.

He shot you a wary look, whispering back, “No! They’re gonna make fun of me. You ask them.”

“No, they’re gonna make fun of me, too.”

“Well”—his lips curled up in a smile—“guess we’ll just have to watch it on our own, then.”

After a while, everyone started to disperse, except for Jungkook, who decided to crash on the couch. It was nearly midnight, anyway, and Riki’s mother had called him about twenty times to get home soon. He was strangely at ease while everyone else was anxious for him.

Chaewon and Aeri left first, claiming that they had to go to bed early because they both had 8 a.m. classes. Wonbin and Sunghoon were discussing going to a party that one of their friends was hosting, and Jungwon and Sunoo immediately shot down the idea when they were asked to tag along

Sunghoon held his phone up to show everyone a Snapchat story of a guy in a Barney costume double-fisting two beers. “Bro, Vernon’s at the party.”

“We’re going home,” Jungwon insisted. 

“C’mon, it’s just for a few hours. We’ll bring you guys back home safe—or, like, we’ll try to. No guarantees. If your safety's compromised, blame Jake or something.”

“Hell no,” Sunoo deadpanned. “I have a paper to finish.”

“Also,” Jungwon added on, pointing an accusing finger at Sunghoon, “I don’t trust you.”

“The fuck? I’m trustworthy.” He turned to you and asked, “Y/N, you think I’m trustworthy, right?”

“No,” you replied immediately. “In fact, I was gonna tell Jungwon and Sunoo to save themselves.”

“Yeah, I can’t get spiked today, dude,” Jungwon said. “I have a fluids test tomorrow.”

After saying your goodbyes to Sunoo and Jungwon, who took a while to figure out where they parked their car, you turned your attention back to Sunghoon and Wonbin. Beomgyu walked up to your group after being occupied with talking to Jisung and Anton for a while. 

“Let’s just go for an hour or something,” Wonbin told Sunghoon. “Are Jake and Beomgyu coming?”

“I’ll join,” Beomgyu said. “I think Jake’s being dragged somewhere by Minjeong, though. Heeseung, are you coming?”

Heeseung started, “No, I—”

“Oh!” Sunghoon bursted out, grabbing his two friends by the shoulders and tugging them away. He turned on his heel quickly, muttering something along the lines of, “Let’s just leave them alone.”

You raised a brow. “What’s his deal?”

You were just able to catch Heeseung’s expression under the dim lamplight, noting how he shied away at your question and averted his gaze. You swore the tips of his ears went scarlet, although you weren’t able to properly discern whether your mind was playing tricks on you or not. 

“Uh, he’s probably just zooted,” your boyfriend said offhandedly. He shot you a glance once you two started walking in the direction of his apartment. “Are you cold?” Before you could answer him, though, Heeseung was already taking off his sweater to hand it to you.

You giggled. “Thanks.” After a few moments, you bit your lip and told him, “Hey, so, about the survey, I thought you should know—”

“—that Minjeong sent me the link?” he finished for you, a grin growing on his face. You stared at him, nonplussed. “Don’t worry, I already knew. When I showed Jake the text, he recognized her number immediately. I figured you guys were just being nice.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“No, no,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “Why’re you apologizing? That was, like, the nicest thing they’ve done for me.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulder. “You really turned my life around there. I would’ve probably just been permanently banned from Starbucks by now if it weren’t for you.”

Your cheeks went hot. It was true that you and Heeseung growing closer definitely changed his relationship with the employees, but you could say the same for him, too. You were admittedly reserved before you met Heeseung, and dating him opened your world up to so many new people. You wouldn’t have had all these new friends if it weren’t for him.

“You’ve done so much for me, too,” you told him. “I’ve never been able to just spontaneously hang out with so many friends before. I never even approached people before, and now I’m gonna room with Minjeong, Chaewon, and Aeri.”

He smiled down at you. “They like you ‘cause you’re fun to be around. Give yourself some more credit.” When you two reached the door of his apartment, Heeseung stopped in his tracks instead of opening the door. You noticed the flush of pink dusting his cheeks when he mumbled, “By the way, I sort of got you a surprise for your Starbucks thing.”

“Really?” You beamed up at him. “Hee, it’s really not that big of a deal for you. You didn’t have to get me something over that.”

“No, it is a big deal,” he insisted. “If it’s something big for you, then it’s big for me, okay? So, close your eyes.”

“Okay.” You placed your hands over your eyes, and your chest felt hot when Heeseung moved his arm to place his hand over your hands from behind, too. Your back was against his chest, and you could almost make out how fast his heart was beating. After you heard the sound of the door being unlocked, Heeseung took small steps forward to get you to walk inside. “Ow. You stepped on my heel.”

“My bad. Step on my feet.”

You did as he said and proceeded to laugh as Heeseung awkwardly walked you further into his apartment after shutting the door behind him. You leaned back against his chest and stumbled a little once he had you step off of his feet. 

“Okay, stay right there,” he instructed, “and keep your eyes closed!”

You swayed back and forth as you waited for him to return. He didn’t take very long, but you were brimming with anticipation. You stilled once you realized he was right in front of you again. You were just about to remove your hands when Heeseung stopped you again.

“Don’t!” he warned, and then asked, “Remember when I stole that baby goat for you?”

Your smile was quickly replaced with a disapproving frown. “Lee Heeseung, do not tell me you still have the baby goat.”

“No!” he exclaimed. “I miss him every day, though. But… I remembered you said something about how it would be nice if we raised a pet together one day, and I know we’re not living together yet or anything, but I thought it’d be nice to share… something…” He trailed off, clearly flustered. “Er, so—yeah, you can open your eyes now.”

You removed your hands and a gasp fell from your lips almost immediately.

Nestled in Heeseung’s palms was the cutest baby kitten you had ever seen. You cooed as you reached over to stroke its plush, white fur. The mewl that came from the kitten nearly had you falling to your knees from how adorable it was.

“He’s a Ragdoll,” he told you. “I thought we could parent him together.”

Heeseung let you hold the kitten in your hands, and you held him close to your chest and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. 

“I could seriously kiss you right now,” you breathed out. 

“Don’t kiss me yet.” He grinned. “I have something else for you.”

You could’ve died of happiness on the spot. Your boyfriend really was completely unfair. How could he spoil you this much and expect you not to combust?

Heeseung dug into his pockets for a moment before pulling out a silver key. You were confused as he took the kitten back from you and placed the key in your hands. After you weighed it in your palm and inspected it for a moment, the dots started connecting in your head. You could almost feel the tears threatening to well up in your eyes.

“That’s our spare key to the apartment. It’s all yours,” he said. “I talked to Sunghoon about it, obviously, and he was totally chill with you having a key to our place. You can come by whenever you want, and you don’t need to wait for me to get out of class if you wanna come over and see our cat.”

“Heeseung,” you murmured, “I don’t know what to say.”

He seemed to visibly panic. “It’s totally cool if you don’t want it. I wasn’t sure if I was moving too fast with that or not, uh… Sunghoon and I just keep it under the doormat if we accidentally get locked out, so it’s really not—”

“I love you,” you breathed out.

His eyes grew wide. 

He quickly became a stuttering mess, scrambling to fit words together into a sentence, but nothing was coming out coherently. You almost wanted to laugh because his distress was so cute, but you decided to show him how you felt instead.

The words died on his lips as soon as you wrapped your arms around Heeseung’s neck and kissed his disquiet away. And this time, it felt like you were able to pour your entire heart into that one kiss because there was something that stirred deep within your heart as your lips moved against Heeseung’s soft ones. 

You never thought one person could move your heart like this, never thought someone could make you feel like you were made of magic, but Heeseung managed to wriggle his way into your heart so effortlessly. One of his hands moved to hold the back of your neck, deepening the kiss slowly—at your own pace. 

When you two finally pulled away after what felt like forever, Heeseung didn’t pull away from you. His nose nudged yours, then grazed your cheek, peppering several more chaste kisses to your lips before you were a giggling and blushing mess. 

Your boyfriend grinned. “I love you, too, Y/N.”

It was then when your kitten mewled from where it was resting on Heeseung’s free hand, seemingly wanting attention. You stared at it for a moment before realization dawned across your face.

“Yoshi!” you exclaimed. “We should name him Yoshi.”

He gasped. “I wanted to name him something Mario-themed! But I thought Mario or Luigi sounded stupid.” He snorted and held the Ragdoll properly again, using his knuckle to gently stroke his head. “Yoshi sounds perfect.”

You giggled. “Yoshi should watch the Mario movie with us. It’s only tradition.”

“I’ll get the popcorn ready.” 

He saluted and handed you the remote so that you could pull up the movie. You took the kitten in your hands and curled up on the couch, placing Yoshi on your lap. When your boyfriend returned, he wrapped an arm around you and started the movie, petting the kitten every now and then. 

And after your umpteenth rewatch, you were definitely going to brag about your new kitten to all your friends; you were going to start looking into applying for apartments for you, Minjeong, Chaewon, and Aeri to move into; and, most importantly, you were going to tell Heeseung you loved him over and over again until there were no doubts in his mind about your feelings for him. 

It was around three in the morning when Park Sunghoon stumbled to the front door of his apartment. He, Wonbin, and Beomgyu somehow ended up getting crossed to the point of nearly blacking out at the party. Thankfully, though, after sitting on the curb of a sidewalk for thirty minutes and having Beomgyu forcing Gatorade down his throat, Sunghoon seemed to sober up enough to walk back home.

Beomgyu insisted on walking him back after they dropped off Wonbin (who hardly remembered his own name at the moment), but Sunghoon was determined to brave the journey back home. 

He patted down his pockets and realized he only had his phone and wallet. No keys. He must’ve left them at home since he was out with Heeseung earlier in the night. 

But no worries. Sunghoon and Heeseung always kept a spare key under the doormat in case of emergencies like these. Sure, he and his housemate often got themselves into crazy situations from time to time, but the smartest decision they had ever made was keeping their extra key ready. 

However, when Sunghoon flipped the corner of the doormat up, there was nothing there. He paused and lifted up the doormat completely, but absolutely nothing was underneath. 

Fuck, he remembered, that motherfucker gave Y/N the stupid spare key.

He honestly couldn’t blame Heeseung because he agreed to letting Y/N have the key, but now he couldn’t get in the house. Couldn’t Heeseung give her the key at a normal hour, like tomorrow afternoon? This situation was fucked.

Sunghoon groaned and dialed Beomgyu’s number. After a few rings, his friend picked up.

He asked, “Weed Guy Beomgyu, can I crash at your place?”

“Use the doormat key,” was his friend’s curt response. 

“Heeseung gave it to Y/N.”

A couple seconds of silence rolled by before Beomgyu answered, “Fine. I’ll pick you up in a few.”

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SUMMARY ▸ in which you work at the starbucks where heeseung is a regular at (and considered a public enemy). also he only goes when he’s stoned off his ass.

AUTHOR'S NOTE ▸ thank you for supporting a stoner's guide to starbucks all this time !! :') it has been a JOURNEY and i feel so so bittersweet about it ending but i very much appreciate all the love and support you guys have shown this smau <3 i am also very much content with this ending and i hope you guys enjoy it as well 🥰 the next chapter will be the epilogue and then i'll post some uncuts !! #LIGHTONEUPFORHEESEUNG

[mushroomates]

the fellowship and if i’d punch them in the face and likelihood of me doing so:

note: i have punched people in the face exactly two (2) times in my life. once when we were kids i decked my sister on the trampoline and most recently i hit a friend in my sleep when reaching for my alarm in a dazed state. the likelihood of me punching anyone in the face, intentionally and maliciously is very, very slim.

frodo: no. if i would not punch most people and frodo is a representation of “most people” i cannot see myself punching him. also i feel as if any disagreements would be felt verbally and swiftly, and an agreement would be met rather quickly. he seems like a reasonable guy. 3/10 i do not feel as though it would happen or that if given the chance i would proceed

sam: no. is a really good friend and person. least punchable out of the hobbits and i feel like if we’d got in a fight it would end up with dirt being flung at each other not punches. worse case scenario i feel like if we really got into it it would be passive aggressive or cast-iron based bludgeoning. 2/10 would not harm a hair on this man’s toes

merry: no. he has little cousin energy- i’d give him a noogie and pinch his cheeks but never sock him in the face. i could see us roughhousing and maybe even exchange blows but in the face? nah. just look at the little guy. i love his lopsided lil smirk. 4/10 limited fisticuffs, nothing serious

pippin: yes. he seems like he needs a good face full of knuckles and who am i to deny him. especially when he was younger. i like the dude but it just seems like something that would happen. im sure gandalf would slip me a pocket full of coins after. 8/10 would clobber this fellow

legolas: yes. almost certainly. would i get shot to shit by a million arrows? oh absolutely, but that would not stop me. i’m going at that man like a balrog out of moria. i don’t know why exactly i want to punch this pretty boy so bad but i know i do. 9.5/10 would punch again

gimli: no. one of least punchable of the fellowship in my eyes- one, because he would absolutely body me if i so much as raised a hand and two because i would never. he’d have to say some pretty insane shit to even get me to consider. 1/10 no jabs ever exchanged

gandalf: maybe. it can go either way. on the one hand, he is an immortal demi god who has been through hell and back so what’s one more fist to the face- on the other hand he takes the form of a grandpa which means i’d have a harder time mentally. however i’m naturally predisposed to punching wizards so given the right opportunity, yes. 5/10 chance of slugging

aragorn: no. he’d drop kick me to valinor before i could even raise my fist. also, he just seems like a chill guy. i feel like the only possible reason id ever even consider fighting this man is if i needed to die honorably very quickly and by a noble hand or if i had a chance at winning arwens hand, like a joust for the princess of sorts. i’d still lose, though. 2/10, id absolutely miss any hit thrown his way. complete biffage.

boromir: no. i’d let this man punch me and thank him for it. he is a fundamentally like able dude. how could i harm this beautiful man, a single father of two full grown adult hobbits. i just have so much love for him in my heart that i can’t even imagine raising a hand against him. 0/10 will not lay a finger on this lovely large lad.

gollum: yes. id punt this little bastard across mordor in my sleep. unprovoked. i hate his crust nails and his black hole of a loincloth. i feel bad for him, sure, but not bad enough to stop me from giving him a good ol fashioned wallop. 12/10 im gonna beat him up with my own two handsies, precious.

[thefourthwifeoftengenuzui]

some headcanons about dating timeskip!Kenma please!!

thank you Anon, I would absolutely love to share some stuff about this beautiful boy~ As always, feel free to send any other requests you got, I’ll be more than happy to share my thoughts~

status: unedited

word count: 1.4k (damn that’s the most I’ve written in a hot minute)

warnings: cursing, pure fluff, mentions of weed, crackfick a little suggestive? Idk man I’m sleepy

wrote this instead of studying for my physics final exam😋

🩵Aged Up Kenma Headcannons🩵~

Ok first off we gotta get the basic facts down. This boy may be sweet as sugar, but he’s also one lazy mother fucker. And For the most part, I’d say that he really doesn’t change much from when he was a kid. The most I can say about him, is he definitely is a lot more confident being in front of people, ( I mean that’s kinda his job now, but bear with me) and has become less awkward around people. Very different from when he first met Hinata, he can actually hold a good and relaxed conversation now. That’s not to say he isn’t introverted anymore, (he definitely still would rather be at home) but he is more confident in himself to be able to actually be able to engage with someone. Is he gonna go out of his way to talk to someone? Hell no, but he can at least handle being approached without overthinking and triggering his anxiety.

This definitely also translates to his relationship with you. You still will have be the one who makes the first move, or at least initiating conversations.

But one things for sure, once he likes you, he loves you. Like wanting to wife you up regardless of gender. And I feel like, (later on in the relationship ofc) if you ever had kids, he would be the best most present dad ever. Like he wouldn’t be a house husband, (his YouTube gig is completely paying for your mortgage) but because the majority of what he does has him, stream for like an hour, go on call for a few minutes, or just edit his videos for a bit, he would be able to make a lot of time for any and all children he has. But that’s way later on in the relationship.

Once he’s comfortable in the relationship with you, I can definitely see him involving you in his content. Not like a whole boyfriend and girlfriend couples channel, but like a once a year “reacting to fucked up shit with my girl” type beat.

And since we’re on the subject of content, <<<<<<<<

Like imagine having the most shitty day possible and you come home to your boyfriend streaming COD or some shit. You just face-plant into the bed next to him and he snaps his head towards you.

”shit baby you good?” he asks as he raises an eyebrow, looking at you concerned as you mumble angrily. He recognizes the nonverbal gestures and just pats his lap with a quick, “c’mere baby,” and hugs you, letting you muzzle your face into his neck away from the camera, and wrapping a fluffy blanket around you, before he kisses you head and say, “gimme ten more minutes to finish this and we’ll order some takeout k?”. He gives you the most sincere and adorable smile ever sending butterflies not only to you, but all his fans watching, as he smiles and goes back to playing like nothing happened, the chat going wilddddddd. (My gay ass heart go brrrrrr)

I know for a fact that somewhere out there in haikyuu internet, there is a corny ass edit of y’all doing that shit, trust. (I need to keep my slang outta here man 😭)

ok, getting off the sidetrack, kenma is still like rlly introverted. Like his ideal date is just sitting at home watching some cheesy studio ghibi movie (His favorite is the boy and the heron, fight me on that, it’s the hill I’m willing to die on.)

If not some cute Disney movie, I also feel like he’d be into like some mystery or like not quite horoscope stuff. Like I feel like he would really be into Wednesday. If he had to watch an actual horror movie, I feel like I’d be like some of the older ones like scream or Nightmare on elm street type shit.

Speaking of scream, I feel like at least once yall would have to do the ghostface couples costume thing. Like I feel like this would just suit him so well. Idk my brains just going feral on it right now. (This was supposed to have a link attached, but it kept fuckin up and I’m to lazy to deal with it so just look it up, the couples version, it’s hot af)

aside from the specific stuff that I know people hate reading, the next thing you gotta know about this version of kenma is he is a TEASE. Like not even like an NSFW type tease. Just like a “he’s an ass but I love him.” Like when he was younger I feel like he was too nervous and flustered to point that kinda stuff out. But now? Man is a menace and a half. The type of dude to be like, “I have no idea how your ass fits in those shorts. Oh no, you’re not taken them off now~” or like the most basic annoying shit like bro fuck off and let me cuddle you in peace without being annoying. Like, he’d be like, “ damn someone’s neady today~ you tryna fuck me in front of everyone?” Like bro stfu I’m just tryna cuddle. Either that or he’d call you clingy for returning the affection he initiated. Like bro, quit being a lil bitch and let me be happy you butt muffin.

Man is putting full pussy into annoying you. He’s the type of guy to call you the most vile, disgusting, cringe ass nicknames, specifically to piss you off. You need him to take out the trash? “Yes my Pookie Wookie McSmoo Moo bear~” *gags while writing this* You’re yelling at him for some stupid thing, “I sorry my sugar booger~.”

Yeah this part is real OOC, and I was gonna write more but I physically cannot bring myself to do it so anyway, his other 3 favorite things to annoy you by calling you is, Cutesie Poopsie, Shnookums, and side piece #2. (Bro I just gave myself the ick)

Beige flags aside, he does have some green ones . For example, he’s a fabulous listener. Like, you just wanna rant and yell about your day? C’mere babes, he already got fluffy blankets, stuffies, and fluffy socks at the ready. You just wanna cry in piece? Looks like his lap has a vacant spot, he can play games and scratch your head at the same time. #bbgtreatment (regardless of gender. If tumblr has taught me anything it’s that nobody is to thug to be bbg, can I get an amen?🙏 )

The more comfortable he is with you, the more he will make jokes, but in the most monotone voice ever. Like you could be ranting to your bestie on the phone like, “I forgot my umbrella at work… yeah I’m soaked,” and you just hear him from his corner calmly shouting “that’s what she said,” not even turning away from his game, as if it was natural to him. It’s always so easy to talk with him, unless it’s about his problems, but we ain’t gon talk about that rn, I’m feeling too fluffy.

There is one thing that I absolutely have to address for this man though. The average female height in my country is 5’4. And Kenma is only 5’6. Chances are, he’s not gonna be towering over you or nothing. Especially if you a tall specimen like me. (AFAB but gender is a construct yolo on those hoes). So chances are, this mf is for a fact, stealing your clothes. No article of clothing is safe. Hoodie? Sorry boo he got cold streaming. T-shirt? None of his were clean. Miniskirt? Onlyfans- He was pulling a Gojo sorry 😋

Tbh I don’t see him ever really having a wedding, or really ever getting married. Too much social interaction and attention on him. Gross. The most I can see him doing is, one night while y’all smoking pot or something, being like “yo wanna get married?” He wants to be with you forever without the government getting involved, but hey, times are tough, and marriage helps with tax returns. So y’all just kinda go to the courthouse, get it done, then fly off to some place to elope.

in all Kenma is just a great loyal guy, who is the biggest pain in your ass, but the biggest cutie patootie this side of the nuthouse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ hope y’all enjoyed, this was so fun to write, if you liked this and want more content like this make sure to request and check out my other stuff. Love y’all bastards, Thots and Enby Hots🩵