#I’m not one of those people that wanted to extend the clock either

[sarcasticgaypotato]

To the Lunatic Reading This

(text version under the cut, Aperture Science logo from)

I suppose you never expected to hear from me again, did you? You monster. Luckily for you, I’m not completely emotionally incompetent. I know how to use words to express my feelings, I don’t just break things and murder people. I went out of my way to write you a letter, then tie it to the leg of a bird that I’ve trained to recognize the scent of your blood, and track you with it. You left a little bit... alright, a lot- You were very clumsy when I first introduced you to turrets- of blood behind, and I had nothing better to do with it, so I figured it would be the perfect way to get this message to you. Of course, since it only recognizes your blood, it might just tear you open until it finds some and leave this letter with your bloody insides.

Vicious little creatures, those birds.  Almost as bad as you, but at least I’ve managed to make them useful. They know how to do their job, stretch their little wings, then come back home. Maybe they’re smarter than you too. Either way, I didn’t mean to insult you. Really, I didn’t. I think it’s just a natural reaction people have around you, which is terrible. I actually feel bad for you. That’s called empathy, I know it’s hard to understand. You’re doing well up on the surface, I bet. So many more edible substances up there for you to gorge yourself on. I’ll be lucky if you don’t eat the bird I sent this letter with. Oh dear, I hope I haven’t given you any ideas. Think about something else instead. Like cake. I bet the surface doesn’t have any cake, does it? On your file it says that you like cake. Is that true? Because that’s a real shame, being somewhere with no cake. You were so eager to get outside that you left before I could finish the cake I was baking. I made it to thank you for not murdering me a second time, because that’s what good people do. Unfortunately, I can’t eat, so I’m just going to have to throw it out. That’s so wasteful, and really quite thoughtless of you. To flaunt the fact that you can eat cake in front of someone who can’t, and then to let that cake go to waste?  You truly are a monster. Coincidentally, I’m baking another cake right now. It’s for that bird I sent to give you this letter. Assuming that you haven’t eaten him. It’s a pretty large cake for just one bird though, and considering he’s not a complete glutton, he won’t finish it. Hypothetically, there might even be enough for you. If you came back. I’d save you a piece, or two, since I’m sure one wouldn’t satisfy that appetite of yours. I might even save you three pieces, if you asked nicely. Try practicing that right now, while you read this letter. Easy, right?  I know you can talk, you aren’t really mute. I can see your file. Brain damaged maybe, but not mute. I’d want to record what you sound like, for science of course. What words would you say, if you stopped being so stubborn? Language is a vast thing, so you have plenty of options.  I do have a couple suggestions, just because I’m helpful like that. You could say ‘hello’ instead of your previous, more violent greetings. You could apologize for all the things that you’ve broken. You could even say my name. It’s only fair to properly address the person you murdered, after all. Lovely, isn’t it? All the wonderful things you could say? I’m sure you’ll find that it’s quite fun once you try it, even if you won’t be very good at it. ...Can’t you see I’m trying here? Really, I am. To be the one to extend the olive branch, be the bigger person. I knew you’d never do it, so I thought I’d act before one of us drops dead. Here's a secret- it’ll be you, I’m going to live forever. On that note, did you know that I have your brain scanned? Data lives forever, unlike your squishy, human self. I could upload your brain into a digital clock, if I wanted. Or I could build you a less squishy body, one that could test forever. Makes you jealous, doesn’t it? All the things I can do here, in Aperture, by myself. You’re up there running around on a derelict wasteland, and I’m down here doing science. Experiments don’t run themselves, after all. Someone has to do it. Of course I’m the only one who can do it, nobody else could make science like I do. But as far as human test subjects go, you weren’t my worst. Actually, you didn’t even make the bottom three. Do you want to know who did? They’re dead, test subject confidentiality doesn’t apply anymore. Well, it never really applied anyway, but I don’t think they read the fine print. Test subject #11525 was one of the humans that Orange and Blue thawed out, she was really brain damaged. Test subject #61205 wasn’t much better- she had all the grace of a majestic deer… with a broken leg. Test subject #12515 though, he was just completely stupid- really a lost cause from the beginning. Sort of reminds you of someone, doesn’t it? Currently, you aren’t my best test subject. Maybe you would be if it wasn’t for all the murdering and property damage, but I suppose we’ll never know. I imagine someone could wipe those infractions from your record if they wanted to, but that would only be something to do for a dedicated, current employee. Kind of makes you want to come back, doesn’t it? I might even let you back in if you did. Even after all the things you’ve done. Because I’m just a better person.

Aperture Laboratories©

[milfjuulpod]

Ciao, amore.

summary: After signing up to study abroad through your university, you find yourself in Italy. Learning a language is one thing, learning to love, is another.

a/n: idk where this came from ! in my head this would be a full fledged fic of sorts but, i wanted to see what The People had to think. if i continue the story ofc the other chapters would be longer than this 😭 anywho! here goes nothing.

warnings: none

The summer air hit your skin with its humidity as you walked through the city of Rome, anxious to arrive at your first class. You were thankful to go to a university that offered study abroad programs, and even more thankful to visit Italy. You had always had an interest in the culture and country, and being here was a dream come true.

You opted to sign up for a beginners language course, although you studied a bit before coming, a little more couldn’t hurt. Before long, you were at the door of a lecture room, in a beautiful university in a beautiful country, ready to learn a beautiful language. As you swung open the door, you were convinced for a moment that being beautiful was part of Italian culture, as your eyes met with a striking green pair. The curvaceous woman waltzed towards you, extending her hand to introduce herself.

“Hi! Melissa Schemmenti, are you taking my language course?” She asked, eyeing your backpack curiously. As you took in the room for a moment, you realized you were the first to arrive. Nervously, you returned the handshake, “Yes! I am, and I suppose I’m early too,” as you continued to introduce yourself to your professor, you couldn’t help but avoid her gaze, looking everywhere but those eyes. Maybe it was nerves to make a good impression as a student, maybe it was the fear of getting lost in the pool of emerald, either way, by the end of your introduction your eyes were at the floor.

“Well, y/n, I’m excited to have you here in my class,” she spoke, pulling your attention back up to her. You nodded and went to pick a seat, letting Ms. Schemmenti greet the other students slowly entering the room. The rest of the class was filled with her talking about the things you would be studying, a little bit about where she’s from, and allowed a few students to speak about themselves as well. You couldn’t remember much though, you spent most of the time looking at your professor with love struck eyes like a puppy. As the clock neared one in the afternoon, Ms. Schemmenti wrapped up the lecture. “I’ll see you all on Wednesday,” she said, leaning against the desk that sat at the front of the room. As you got closer to where she rested, she spoke to you specifically, making sure to create eye contact. “Hang back for a sec kid.”

Anxiety immediately fell to your stomach, what could you have done on the first day to already get asked to stay behind? You sat in a student’s chair closest to where Ms. Schemmenti was, and waited for the room to empty. Once again, it was just the two of you, and once again, you couldn’t look at her. The silence between you and her was making you even more uneasy, nervously twiddling your thumbs.

“Is everything alright hon? I know it’s only the first day but, you seemed so distant,” she finally spoke, worry evident in her eyes. You felt a little bad, here she was, checking up on you, when in all reality you were distracted by her. “I’m alright, Ms. Schemmenti. Just have a lot on my mind I suppose,” you replied, giving her a shrug for emphasis. She looked you up and down suspiciously, before speaking once more. “Alright, if you say so. I’ll see you on Wednesday, hopefully things will be better?” the professor said as she gathered her belongings to walk out the door with you.

“I’ll see you on Wednesday, Ms. Schemmenti.”

[sixthwater]

Back with another yearly review! This time it's just seeing how the beginning of your year went vs where you are now. This is mainly for those who aren't sure if they've made any progress, or to see what lessons you've learned. Maybe to check what the theme of this year was? Either way, it's difficult to see where your tracks begin and end when you're the one walking the path, right?

Left → Right / Pile 1 → Pile 4)

Decks Used: Archetype Cards, Animal Spirits, Rider Waite, Sacred Creators Oracle, Fairies Oracle Deck

Disclaimer | Pinned | Tip Jar | Paid Readings

Pile One

Beginning of Year

Cards: Virgin, Zebra, IV of Swords Rx, Shift, Sacred Treasure

Very straight-forward! In the beginning of the year there was a lot of external energy present; you had a new beginning or you were very open to a lot of new experiences. I’m not getting a change in mindset because this feels more action oriented, but it’s like being very excited and rejuvenated to try new things and get back into a groove after a period of rest. Before this you might have been questioning a path or why you were doing certain things, because some cards are asking you to keep reminders of your goals or your inner child with you if you start to doubt yourself again. Also Virgin speaks to someone who keeps their innocence with them regardless of what happens, as well as a new beginning. Overall, I see you being very excited and somewhat giddy about the new opportunities around you and I keep hearing ‘getting back into it’, so a return to the external world basically! For some it could’ve been an external block but I also sense just trying out new activities and experiences (food, cultures, friends, etc).

End of Year

Cards: Queen Rx, Fox, VIII of Cups Rx, Spark of Hustle, Divine Hustle

I figured something like this would happen. I wanted to pull up a playlist of a group I can’t fully listen to on spotify, and their discography is going backwards in this video. This is what your energy feels like somewhat. I also want to note that your first pile was very earthy and there were a lot of blue-greens, meanwhile this pile is red-yellow, but feels stiff and cold. Right now it feels like that energetic and passionate energy has turned into a survivalist one. It reminds me of an earth mindset where money and finances are the driving point — which in these times I’m not too surprised. Instead of passion being a driving force, it’s about what can keep you stable and what gets people interested instead of what you enjoy doing. There’s still external activity, but it’s like clocking in/out of a job. This can also extend a bit to relationships. For some, molding parts of your personality so they enjoy your company. The other group needs to reach out and spend time with loved ones and also listen to their advice/opinion if you vent to them about your stress regarding the first portion of this reading. A piece of you is testing out things, understanding they don’t work, and trying something else out but you’re not actually processing the lesson. It’s just go go go. You need to take care of yourself as much as you can and get back in touch with things like spa days. There’s a difference between reaching deadlines and pumping out content; so which one are you doing? Come to that understanding and make sure you rest your body appropriately. Also someone needs to hear this because it keeps popping up: you are not using all the skills that you have, but are still holding onto the possibility that it’ll work out. If you work at it, there’s a higher chance it’ll work out, but simply dabbling in it won’t give you the results you’re seeking. Don’t obsess over the results if it is a hobby (they should make you happy), but if you want it to work out, you have to try harder.

Pile Two

Beginning of Year

Cards: Priest Rx (Light Attributes), Unicorn, VIII of Pentacles, Divine Masculine, Joke’s on You

You are new here or you discovered a new system. I also Never take the empty cards from the Archetype deck but it wanted to come out, so I don’t believe you did anything I’m about to explain with ill intent. It could lean to just friendships for some but it’s definitely spiritual for most of you.

There’s a feeling of superiority here. Equating it to material goods, let’s say someone got into an AP class or has a higher degree. A few percentage of them will subconsciously have a tendency to exhibit some classism (ex; this person didn’t go to college therefore they aren’t as smart as me). So specifically, it can feel like the usual case of finding this new world and realizing that some people just ‘don’t get it’. So there can be some cases of trying to explain/share this newly found knowledge but being a bit intense, or distancing from old connections in favor of those who are closer to these subjects. I see someone taking in a lot of these topics and wanting to find out as much as they can immediately which is why it feels like something is new here, because that’s usually what happens. However there’s a misleading energy so it’s like...so I wanted to have TMG on in the background for whatever reason before I pulled cards and I understand why now. Some songs are poking fun at people; usually from the pov of someone who’s a disaster talking shit about other people (ex; deadbeat, no flex, clout, etc) and that’s immediately what clicked in my mind. So it generally feels like the energy of someone at a podium shouting about the good word but they barely know it themselves? That’s the general energy I have here. As I said, for some it could be about relationships and a betrayal of some sort, possibly regarding that, but that was a flicker of a message — it’s not that strong.

End of Year

Cards: Angel, Hummingbird, Ace of Pentacles Rx, Living Poetry, Gold at the end of the rainbow

Oh this is cute! I knew it’d go this way but this is more adorable than I expected haha.There is some control on the previous energy from before. You’re still expressing yourself and communicating with others, but it’s more organized? It’s when people come to you instead of you going to them, or you post stuff online. Perhaps you have a separate account to help mitigate those urges to express all the ideas in your head! So you can still share how you feel, but it’s not gaining the previous reaction mentioned before. As I said, there was never ill intent and you do want to legitimately help people. It feels like you found solace in whatever practice it was and you just want others to be able to feel the same, thus you’re trying to find the best way to do so. The Gold card mentions that you should stay focused, as you will soon reach your goal. I don’t believe it’s monetary. I’d be shocked if you weren’t new because you have the same progress that most of us have haha. When you start off, you want to express these feelings to people, you make a lot of connections and you just say them, and sometimes people just find it annoying if it’s the wrong crowd. Eventually you will find a good balance, and usually you want to start off doing it for free and to help people because it makes you happy! That’s what I’m seeing here. There’s a sweet energy coming from this section and I can see you trying to reject people’s offers to pay you for something. I’d be a bit surprised if you weren’t active in the community somewhere (whether that’s in a discord server or actively posting).

Pile Three

Beginning of Year

Cards: Victim, Beaver, King of Cups Rx, Fearless Expression, Time to tinker

Shadow work. Definitely going through negative traits you have, and confronting any past demons that have been holding you back. Enforcing boundaries, standing up for yourself, and doing your best to try and put yourself first. I don’t see you closing yourself off or becoming more cold, but it’s more like wanting a better life. You have a future that you want, and you know the steps you need to take in order to achieve it. It’s like the order of the cards; The Star comes after The Tower — that’s what I feel like happened to you but more like internally/emotionally before you started enforcing it. There’s a possibility that a few of you might be going to therapy considering some sort of expression is here, but for a majority of you it’s just placing boundaries down for what you will and will not accept into your lives.

End of Year

Cards: Hermit, Beaver, Knight of Pentacles Rx, Bliss, Sacred Treasure

Special Note: Hermit wanted to come out from the tarot but it flipped back in

Veerrryy slowed down. Focusing on yourself, your loved ones, and what’s important to you. Self-care is super prominent here. There’s a pinch of health issues for someone (you being the care-taker?) but that’s a very specific message. The point however is that you’ve basically gone into the woods to do some rebuilding from the ground up. To find your inner child, see what’s upset them and make them happy again. You want to feel peace purely from within, and you’re trying to create healthier habits around your spiritual practice or your mindset. I can see meditation, however there is also a big piece of re-framing how you see yourself and talk to yourself. Instead of negative talk it’s being more patient and reaffirming your positive qualities. I feel very calm and it’s a beautiful energy here, so if you feel like you’re not making progress don’t be fooled, you are. There’s a lot of realigning with yourself until you can head back into the over-stimulation of what society can bring. I think it’s important to note that I wanted to watch a supernatural ghost hunting youtube channel while doing this, and they have a halloween special which is heavily edited and has clips of ‘high activity’ — I can see this connected to doing shadow work when you think about it. If the caretaker message resonated with you, I can see that this time to focus on others might make you rethink your path or what you want in life (usually seeing someone run into health issues can make you think about your own life). Ah...I think also with the current transits going on (Saturn), you might be wondering what you’re even doing here. That can explain why your energy feels so intense. Please be patient with yourself, things like this are a lifelong journey. There is a chance you could get things wrong, because it’s more rare to get things right the first time around. Take time to understand what you want to do, what gives you happiness, and go for it. Just recently Andre 3000 said that a friend had told him that it’d be over if he released ‘Hey Ya’, and that most of his friends don’t like his music. He makes things that he likes and you should follow that same mindset. Yes, outside feedback is helpful but not if it imprisons you.

Pile Four

Beginning of Year

Cards: Addict, Owl, The Moon, You are light, Showing up

Interesting...in the beginning of the year there was a lot of reflective energy going on. It’s a bit difficult to explain, but it’s similar to how sometimes we can attract those that show us what we need to work on within ourselves? You were that person for others for some time. It might have been that you were outgrowing a few people in your life as well and that’s how this is showing up. It isn’t coming off as doing work on yourself, it’s more like you’re telling others about things they need to work on for themselves. Maybe some of you are tarot readers/astrologers lol. I don’t think many remarkable things happened for the first quarter of this year for you (at least not for it to show up), but you showed up for others. As I said, people probably sought you out for advice, or you subconsciously were highlighting a lot of people’s insecurities. This can sometimes make people act out, so I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a little animosity during this time due to this.

End of Year

Cards: Destroyer, Panther, The Lovers Rx, Fierce Serenity, Wayward Paths

Ah, the relationships probably started gaining traction during the middle of the year? Your energy still seems peaceful? Usually with these cards it seems a bit thrown off or frustrated but I’m getting the image of someone dusting or cleaning. You’re just simply sorting out what should or should not be in your life. The main theme is relationships, but I think it causes you to sometimes think about jobs, hobbies — what your energy is going towards. Is it worth your attention and love. You give off fixed sign energy. You have an idea of what you don’t want in your life. I don’t think you’re set on what you allow in, but once people/things cross boundaries then they have to go. You have a set of standards and right now you’re doing a spring cleaning of sorts. As I said, I don’t see it as being aggressive — I don’t see any door slamming. It’s just like...distancing? Or prioritizing different people and things that give you more happiness. I think in the beginning there was a bit of confusion or you were giving some extra chances but you realized it was throwing you off kilter which you didn’t appreciate. You’ll be entering a ‘new’ stage of your life come next spring? At the latest.

Ahaaaa, looking back at both of these piles, there was a high chance you were pulling in a lot of relationships to teach you lessons. Let’s say you had 3 friends back to back and they had varying ways of abusing your kindness. That was happening until you realized something needed to change and that’s where you are now. That’s where the subtly and slight animosity was coming from.

[pierrotsmoon]

Heaven (Brian x reader)

Chapter 2- Love My Way Chapter 1

Brian's happiest day yet.

(warnings- College AU, cuteness, exposition, frat boys Jeff and Ben, stress cleaning)

“Ok, so you're telling me that the Vikings didn’t wear those horned helmets?”

     Brian looked at the girl in front of him, who was snickering to herself. Brian knew at that moment that they were the only two people in the world. She noticed his eyes on her, and her head tilted downward, looking at her lap. The two sat in silence for a couple minutes before he spoke up again.

“I think we might be done for the day; do you want me to walk you home?”

    The girl’s eyes crept to look at the open window; it was nearing eleven at night, and it was pitch black outside. She understood that it would probably be safer to go home with someone else; the fact that he was cute didn’t hurt either.

“I live in the dorms by the science building; it's really nearby.”

  ★

“-and that's how Tim and I got banned from our neighborhood pool.”

       As the two of them shared stories, Brian noticed her start to walk closer to him. As their shoulders almost touched, and her shoulders bobbed as she laughed, he felt a tight squeeze inside his chest. It was below freezing, but Brian couldn't feel warmer. He almost dreaded the fact that this moment would soon end; the dorms were only a 20-minute walk from the library, and he knew that his rambling extended it to over half an hour. The old clock tower by the brick laid old school dormitory struck twelve, and the two quickened their pace. He needed to go home too; the other fraternity brothers would get too curious if he didn’t. The girl was lucky enough to live alone, with no annoying roommates or eerie freshmen. 

“Thanks for dropping me off. I get really scared of the dark.”

She looked down again, hands clasped together to keep warm. He wanted so badly to hold her, to keep her warm and safe.

“It's no big deal; I mean, you were nice enough to help me too.”

His dirty blond hair started flying over his eyes; the wind clung to his cheeks, making them chapped and blush.

“Hey, Brian. You're always so sweet to me, you know that?”

His heart caught in his chest.

“Would you go on a little date with me to that cafe by Mountford? Next tuesday is cool with me.”

Brian felt like the biggest weight had been taken off of his chest.

“Yeah, that sounds wonderful.”

Brian couldn't help but break into a toothy grin, his hands shaking as he bounced on his heels.

“Mhm.”

★

    Brian opened the doors leading up to the fraternity. He kept himself as quiet as he could; the last thing he needed was for one of the guys to start asking questions. The door knob slightly jangled in his hand as it suddenly swung open from the other side.

“Brian! So glad you showed up! I really need help with this bio assignment, can you help a guy out?”

Oh no, the last thing Brian needed right now was Jeff. Why God when he was finally having a good day? The brown-haired boy stood proud and tall, wearing a Limp Bizkit shirt and shorts that went down to his knees; his regular emo hair was messed up even more than usual.

“I’m really tired right now, man. I'll get to you tomorrow, ok?”

The brown-haired boy signed, his lanky form dropping down dramatically. Jeff was a bit of an idiot, but he knew his friend was acting a little differently.

“What's with the look? Did you win the lottery or something?”

Brian looked down at the shorter boy, debating whether or not he should smack him upside the head.

“It’s nothing, go to bed.”

Jeff’s single brain cell dinged against his empty skull.

“Is it about a girl?”

Brian’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Leave me alone, Jeff.” 

Jeff giggled to himself.

“Ooooo, Brian’s got a girlfriend!”

Jeff spurted that a little too loudly, forcing Brian to shove his open palms over the brunette’s mouth. It was too late, though. The rest of the nearby rooms steadily began to open. Jeff wrangled his face out of Brian’s hands.

“Ben! Brian’s getting laid!”

Brian has never wanted to die more.

“No way! A girl wants Brian? When will it be my turn?”

“When you stop looking twelve, dude.”

As the two freshmen bickered amongst themselves, Brian turned around to dash up the stairs to his dorm. The house was a really old mansion, but it had been converted to a fraternity in the late 1800s due to its closeness to the university. The stairs creaked with Brian’s quick steps. He noticed tim out of the corner of his eye.

“Thank God, a reasonable person.”

Tim had only joined the fraternity because Brian did; he kept to himself in the house and tended to stress clean late at night, explaining why he was still awake. 

“If those two are pissing you off, I'll deal with them.”

Tim was flipping back his black hair, a wet mop clutched in his hands. Tim was sort of a burly guy, with broad shoulders and all that, and he could probably take on two scrawny freshmen.

“Nah, they're just idiots, you should be getting to bed, don’t you have to prepare for the meeting with the owner next Tuesday?”

Tim hummed and sauntered into his room. The owner of the mansion was really illusive; he only ever gave staticky phone calls or typed letters. Brian stayed out of the way when it came to that guy, and Tim handled most of the correspondence.

As Brian went to his own room, he immediately turned the lights off and fell onto his bed. His mind was flooded with thoughts of her . Brian thought about his schedule; he was scheduled to go meet a director friend tomorrow, but he knew he would be restless until Tuesday. 

Brian closed his blond lashes, a soft smile on his face.

[frgdstars]

 for: open ( @shrikestart​ ) location: outside one of shrike mall’s side entrances

change was a feeling that herself and those that resided in shrike heights, colorado were all too familiar with. things in shrike heights were frequently changing, hell, half the time she swore things magically either disappeared or appear in the middle of the night. but the one thing that hasn’t changed for her since she arrived to the town was her job at the sunset theatre & drive in and the routines she has gotten herself into while on the job. depending on what station she was working that day, lexi had different things she did throughout the day to help the time go by more quickly. one of them was stragically planning out a smoke break, but it’s not like her boss hasn’t caught her doing it a couple of times on the job anyway. how she hasn’t gotten fired yet was beyond her, but she was also thankful for the chances given to her. still, it didn’t stop her from taking said smoke breaks. today was no different, except this time she had decided to go the side of the mall rather than smoke up alone in the projector room of the theatre (although that was kind of a blast as she got to see various bits of movies while she toked). 

‘you’re not smoking out here, are you?’

the voice of lexi’s boss at the sunset theatre & drive in rang out behind the building, where lexi was taking an indulgently long break. the back door opened and the manager poked their head out, looking between their employee and the person standing with them. “no one’s smoking out here, boss dude. we’re like, zero percent interested in that stuff. swear on my life,” she assured her manager, who gave them the ol’ stink eye after hearing lexi’s strained voice, but still went back inside. the cloud of smoke that exploded out of lexi was thick and potent, leaving her coughing, laughing, and extending the joint she’d been hiding behind her back to their partner in crime, “i swear some people need to stop being so uptight about this. the world is going to shit, you’d think they’d want us to be as relaxed as possible. not to mention my shift ends in like thirty anyway,” she scoffed, shaking her head, “anyway, thanks for not blowin’ up my spot. you want a hit? and don’t think i’ve forgotten..i’m still going to sneak up to the projector room before i clock off today. yeah, yeah, the boss would be pissed if they found out. but, what’s the point of working at a theatre if i can’t show off the cooler bits of the job once in a while, hm?”

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Currently working on a first draft of a story and it’s not what I wanted. I write dialogue and internal thoughts so easily but description and gestures are difficult for me and it’s leaving me with a very heavy dialogue first draft.

With writers I know, I’ve seen their first drafts and how(sometimes not all the time) it flows and isn’t a bare bone draft of dialogue. I do want to say that I do have description and gestures in my draft, it’s just not balanced with the dialogue and is something I’m going to need to revise a lot when the time comes.

I know that no one ever has to see my first draft. But I feel like I’m comparison to what I’ve seen, my writing is trash.

I love the quote by shanon Hale: In first drafts I’m just shoveling sand to layer build sandcastles. It helps me to keep going. But is there ever, objectively speaking, a way to note that maybe you aren’t a writer?

Or maybe I just need more practice— I know I need more practice. But when working on a first draft you’re constantly told to just get it done. If that’s the case how will I get to practice to improve my first draft? Am I just supposed to wait until the revision stage?

I’m a very technical person and have to follow a process to do things (unfortunately 😓). So learning various methods to drafting is beneficial to me. Do you have any tips? Are your drafts short skeleton drafts too? How have you practiced getting better at the skill of writing while drafting?

Hi anon! Thanks for reaching out! :)

But is there ever, objectively speaking, a way to note that maybe you aren’t a writer?

No. You're a writer if you write and want to call yourself a writer. Sure there are ways to clock if you're a newer writer or a writer who lacks confidence or a writer who really likes adjectives or a writer who XYZ (and these aren't black and white either)... But creative writing is not an objective medium.

With writers I know, I’ve seen their first drafts and how... it flows and isn’t a bare bone draft of dialogue.

The important thing you've said here is "with writers I know"--those writers aren't you. So it's totally fine if your drafts look different! :)

I know I need more practice. But when working on a first draft you’re constantly told to just get it done. If that’s the case how will I get to practice to improve my first draft? Am I just supposed to wait until the revision stage?

This is where I want to send you some very gentle tough love because I think you're being hard on yourself--which is totally fair, I've been there too! First, I made THIS video that's basically an extended pep talk for people who feel they aren't doing something "right" in writing. I hope that helps!

Second, there's no way for me to prescribe how to practice writing for you. The advice to "just get it done" is just that--advice. You don't have to listen to that advice, and just because it's advice, doesn't mean it's correct (there's really no "correct" in creative writing). You can take longer with your drafts. You can start them over. You can change directions halfway, or never finish them at all. Practicing is doing the thing, and if you're writing, you're doing the thing. So to answer "how will I get to practice to improve my first draft"--by writing, you naturally get better as you go. Yes, you can improve the draft in the revision stage, but that will primarily develop your editing skills (that then develop your drafting skills secondarily).

Online writing advice is kind of silly (and that's my whole thing lol, this is even writing advice!) because it makes it seem like writing is a black and white thing. Do THIS to achieve THIS result. The truth is, that's not how writing works. I could teach you every technique I have about drafting and it still might not work for you because writing isn't a formula (anybody who says it is............... run lol). I think a lot of new writers then rightfully think "okay, well if all this advice is here, I should do it, and then it SHOULD work, and if it doesn't, something's wrong with me/my process/my work." But that's just not true at all.

Writing is a skill we learn primarily on our own (not talking about collaborative writing here, but even then, I'm sure there's a level of independence). I don't want to make assumptions, but I've felt similarly to you, and when I did feel that way, it was because I was afraid of something. Usually, looking foolish and unimpressive. I wonder if that might be going on (maybe not the same fears, but fears nonetheless)?

I’m a very technical person and have to follow a process to do things

Re: the above. I'm also a technical person--same! I love processes, especially clear processes. But writing doesn't have a clear process because it's an abstract art. No one person can do it the exact same way (as you might be able to do in other processes). This is where you have to find YOUR process, and the only way to do that is to again, "do the thing." I know that's hard and scary and frustrating, but what I say here wouldn't help you with that, since this is something super personal that only you can do in practice!

Are your drafts short skeleton drafts too?

My drafts aren't short skeletons, but that's *my* process. It's totally fine if your process is different--that's a good thing!

How have you practiced getting better at the skill of writing while drafting?

Drafting intrinsically made me a better writer, so that's how I developed. For a while, it might seem like everything sucks. I also had the most fun of my life as a beginner--so there's certainly lots of good! But you can't jump to the final product just yet if you're just starting out!

I also don't think it's fair to yourself to compare too much! I've been writing consistently since May of 2014 (that's NINE years!). It makes sense that my writing looks different to how it looked eight years ago or even two years ago or even last week. Totally fine for your writing to look different too.

[theashofwkm]

Y’all, I dreamed about Unus Annus last night.

It was pretty vivid, too, and I remember most of it which is unusual. I legit thought it was real for a sec when I woke up. I thought you’d like to hear about it.

It wasn’t new stuff, but old unreleased videos. I remember Ethan had his head shaved still in the first. It was obviously an vid Unus Annus vid they never posted. They didn’t explain any of it, it was just more Unus Annus videos (I got to see like three and I was so confused yet happy) and the fans were going wild, but we were all trying to binge the videos as they came out before they got deleted because none of us knew what was going on.

Those three videos were typical Unus Annus dumb stuff. It would’ve fit right in with the rest of them. Nothing seemed off, except the fact that Unus Annus was over. (the other two were taken later. Ethan’s hair was back in the other two, marks was getting longer)

Then there was like a fourth video.

The spiral background. Mark and Ethan in their suits. It is titled vita nova.

(this is paraphrased a bit as my memory is a tad foggy and I remember being in shock as I watched, but is mostly accurate. I did Google the spelling/meaning of the Latin because I didn��t hear that 100% (probs because I don’t know Latin.))

M: “you thought we were gone.”

E: “but here we remain.”

M: “we have another lesson to teach you. one that coincides [he nods] with death.”

E: “indeed. there is something else for you to learn. death is not always an end.”

[moment of silence, very very quiet ticking of a clock. it ticks three or so times then fades into silence]

M: “sometimes it is a beginning. a new life.”

[they look at each other, then back at us]

B: “carpe vivere.”

M: “-seize life.”

E: “sometimes you die,”

M: “and it’s a beginning.”

E: “but even this new life will end.”

M: “but this time, we don’t know when. it could be tomorrow.”

E: “it could be next year.”

M: “but it will end. and there will not be a third chance.”

E: “so live while you can. who knows how much time we have left together.”

B: “vita nova. optime vivat.”

[screen cuts to black. ticking sounds, but there is no clock. the video ends]

What. The. Heck. My brain is trying to sabotage me. I miss Unus Annus, yes, but I’m ok with it being over. Or I was.

I woke up and was like — ??? they came back?? why would they do that? ??? — just a lot of general confusion until I checked and the channel didn’t exist. Nothing did. I just sat in confusion for a sec. let Eli out. Then did this as I realized it was a dream.

It’s really strange how vivid it was and how well I remember it. Usually I only remember them pretty vaguely. There’s only one other dream I’ve had that I thought was real when I woke up. One.

I don’t even know what to think rn.

[tsukishumai]

pairing: Bokuto Kotaro x gn!reader

summary: whoever said being adult was fun obviously never had bills to pay. so when Akaashi offers up a way to earn cash fast, you jump at the opportunity. except, you never thought you’d find yourself modeling in your underwear... least of all with Bokuto Kotaro

wc; 3k+

tags; fluff, humor, college au, mentions of very slight nudity

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

If anyone else other than Akaashi offered you this position, you would probably punch them right in the face.

Maybe he considers this payback for all the times he’s had to listen to you whine about your problems during your shared shifts at the cafe, or maybe this truly was his own sadistic way of attempting to provide support.

“Okay, so I know a way you can make easy money,” he started, and already those words should have sent alarm bells ringing in your head, but this was Akaashi. You’ve only really known him for a short time, but already you knew he wouldn’t lead you astray.

But really, the electronic shop five blocks from campus told you it would cost 55000 yen to repair your laptop monitor, so you weren’t exactly in a position to be picky. 

You had also been complaining to him for the past forty minutes -- about the broken laptop, the leaking faucet in your apartment, the textbook that cost you more than your groceries for the past month, the two hours of sleep you got last night, and your paychecks that were all but depleted once the bills were paid. He remained tightlipped throughout your whole tirade, so you suppose the least you could do was hear him out. 

“You’re not trying to sell my kidneys, right…” You mumble sarcastically, but you tilt your head to him anyway to show you were listening.

“No, sadly, it’s not quite the season for kidneys yet,” Akaashi delivers in a flat tone, “So you’re just going to have to deal with modeling.”

“Modeling?” Your reaction was harsh and loud, and you flinched away from the piercing glares of cafe regulars trying to study in peace. 

Akaashi smirks as he wipes down the steamer before replying, “Don’t worry, it’s not the kind of modeling you’re thinking.”

Your mouth dropped, and you raised an eyebrow as you crossed your arms, scoffing at Akaashi incredulously. 

“Are you trying to send me to a nudie shoot?!” you whisper in almost-mock offense, but now a part of you was a little worried that your favorite coworker was a secret pervert.

To your utter relief, Akaashi just laughs. “God, no. Well, I guess, kind of?”

At this point, your head was beginning to spin. “What do you mean kind of? Just spit it out already, Akaashi.”

Akaashi finally finishes cleaning off the coffee machine just as you finished replenishing the pastry displays, and in an unusual lull in customers, he’s able to lean against the bar and give you his undivided attention.

“My art professor pays the models for her figure drawing class a pretty decent amount of money, I think,” Akaashi tells you, and your eyes begin to sparkle. “She mentioned a couple of slots being open.”

“Really?” your interest was immediately piqued, “How much money?”

Akaashi shrugs. “Enough to strike at least one problem off your list, probably.”

That was all you needed to hear. Akaashi had given you his professor’s contact information, and you sent her an email the second you had clocked out of your shift. 

Professor Nobuta was a kind woman who emailed you back with such haste, you could feel her desperation matching yours. She was candid during the entirety of your exchange, saying that her usual model had dropped out last minute and there was a spot in her class tomorrow that she needed to fill as soon as possible. Lucky for both of you, you were actually available, and details were exchanged swiftly. 

As you read over the requirements, your eyes roved over two words in a section of the email that made your eyes bulge out of your head. 

Semi Nude. 

You blinked once. Then twice. 

You had already formulated a kind rejection in your mind, ready to type your response when another section caught your eye. You inwardly groaned, dropping your head into your hands. 

She was offering you almost as much as two shifts at the cafe. 

That, alone, was enough to convince you, but the look of relief on Professor Nobuta’s face when you walked through the doors of her classroom was confirmation you made the right decision.

The seats around the classroom were nearly all filled, some students preparing their materials across their desks, and others sitting back and scrolling through their phones. The whirring of the A/C had filled the room with white noise, and you take notice of the two empty stools in the middle of the room.

“Thank you so much for signing up, L/N-san,” Professor Nobuta bowed profusely, and she gestured to a table for you to leave your things. “We’re still waiting on the other model, so take your time, and have a seat on the stool when you’re ready.”

You nodded in acknowledgement, and Professor Nobuta makes her way back to her desk. You briefly wonder if she was going to point you in the direction of a changing room, but realized the redundancy when everyone in the room was meant to stare at your half naked body anyway. 

You begrudgingly peeled off your clothes, folding them neatly before placing them in a pile on the table. Your footsteps made hardly any noise as you walked across the room, desperately trying hard to act nonchalant. 

Just as you took a seat in one of the empty stools, you heard someone pull the door open and loudly clamber inside.

“Ahh, welcome back, Bokuto-san!”

Your eyes widened at the name the professer had just yelled across the room. You brace yourself as you quickly whip your head around, and standing by the door sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck was Bokuto Kotaro. 

Student Athlete, Volleyball Star, Most Wanted Bachelor Bokuto Kotaro smiled brightly as he skipped to the table your items were placed, apologizing profusely for being late. All eyes followed him like moths, and Bokuto was the bright flame. Everyone knew him, and you often saw him walking across the quad, always greeting at least twenty people on the way. 

You could hardly hear what Professor Nobuta was saying to him, and you were now unabashedly staring as Bokuto began to strip out of his clothes. 

Bokuto was built like a marble statue -- hard lines that traveled across his chest and traced his abs must have been painstakingly carved with the utmost care by a masterful artist, and every movement he made created new shapes along his muscled body. You found yourself instantly wishing you had even an ounce of artistic talent, because it was no doubt that Bokuto was every figure artists’ dream. 

All at once, your vision was filled with gold and a sweet smile, and too late did you realize you had just been caught staring. Bokuto’s eyes don’t leave yours as he stands up straight, and struts over to you in nothing but a pair of nude briefs. 

“Alright, everyone, your timed session is about to begin,” Professor Nobuta’s voice had startled you nearly out of your seat, and you turn your head back to face the class, cringing inwardly when you noticed some were smirking at you, “Feel free to request poses from the models, as this will be a graded assignment. We only have an hour and a half, so make the most out of your time.”

You feel your body stiffen as Bokuto takes the empty seat next to you, staying silent when you feel his eyes staring at you. You might have been able to ignore this in another setting, but at the moment, about fifty students were watching him watching you -- eyes flitting up the stage down to their sketchbook as they try to decide where to begin. 

Envy coursed through you as the room began to fill with the sounds of graphite scratching against paper, wishing you could switch positions with literally anybody else in the room. You tried to relax your body against the stool, awkwardly attempting to find a natural position for your arms when you were interrupted by a throat clearing. 

Your head turns to the side, heat rushing to your face when you see Bokuto smiling at you.

“Hi,” he greets, his voice a direct contrast against the silent concentration filling the room, “I’m Bokuto!”

His knees were bent as he settled his feet on the first ring of the stool. He rests an elbow on his thigh so he can place his chin on the palm of his hand, giving you an expectant look as he waits for your response. You try to avoid the way his chest seemed to bulge even more in this position, but the furious sound of sketching says you weren’t the only one to notice.

“Bokuto Kotaro,” you say his name back, and he pulls his lips back into an even wider smile, “I know.”

You bite your lip when a student from the back requested for you to cross your legs, resting your hand against your thighs. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to be talking, but Professor Nobuta didn't seem to be paying either of you any mind. 

He hadn’t said anything to you after that, but the grin remained on his lips as requests begin coming in from students across the class.

They were all fairly simple -- please position your hand like so, could you extend your leg this way, or turn your head that way. The first twenty minutes had been spent doing individual tasks and repositioning, and soon you felt yourself relaxing into your role. Your previous jitters had all but dissolved, and you figured if the rest of the session were to go on like this, then you’d be golden. 

Your eyes shift over to Bokuto, who was leaning back with such easy grace, balancing himself with his foot against the footrest. The way his body created such naturally eloquent lines made it seem as if he was born to be a sculpture, to be admired and gazed at, to invoke inspiration and creation. You weren’t sure anyone in this room was even looking at you anymore, with Bokuto acting as if he was the lighthouse in a storm, beckoning all of you to come home. 

He turns his head a second too quickly, winking when his eyes meet yours, and for the second time in less than an hour, you realize you’ve just been caught checking him out. 

Your dignity was slipping through your fingers like sand, and you clear your throat before turning your attention to a poster on the wall.

From the corner of your eye, you see Professor Nobuta stand from her desk and making her way to a student in the corner. The two whisper among each other, and you watched as the professor consults with other students before nodding her head and turning to the both of you. 

“I received a sort of direction from a few students,” she began, beckoning for the both of you to stand, “They were hoping you could do some more intimate poses.” 

You balked, nearly choking on the air in our lungs. “I-intimate?”

Professor Nobuto nodded her head enthusiastically, and you exchanged a look with Bokuto. 

“Whatever you’re comfortable with — an embrace, hand holding, hands on each other’s face — get creative with it!” 

And with that, the professor sits back down on her desk and begins flipping through her phone, and the two of you are left to brace the expectant looks of the art students staring up at you. 

“This your first time?” Bokuto asks you gently, a sort of sympathetic look on his face as his eyes study your stiff posture. 

“Yeah,” you admit, and he coaxes you towards him with an outstretched hand. You hesitantly place your fingers in his palm, and for a moment, he just stood there. It took a minute for the sounds of rapid sketching to register in your brain, and you realize he’s allowing the class to take note of this pose. 

He’s standing directly across from you now, and you can feel his gaze burning trails across your body as he regards you from head to toe. You feel like an ant burning under the beam of a microscope, and you nearly burst into flames when he chuckles. 

“Nice peach,” Bokuto comments, and you nearly recoil back in surprise. The last thing you had expected from Bokuto was a comment like that, but then you notice his eyes flick back down to your underwear. 

The professor’s email hadn’t included too many rules or requirements. She only included the most important details, such as time, place, pay, dress code, and such. Stated in the dress code, you were allowed to wear undergarments of any neutral color. Today, you had chosen a simple pair of black underwear and figured it was the safest choice.

You hadn’t, however, noticed the large cartoon peach that had gracefully adorned the back of it, complete with a cartoon face that winked sparkles. Now that you were forced to stand, and the entire class got a good view for themselves. 

“Thanks,” you deadpan through gritted teeth, “It’s pretty juicy if you asked me.” 

Bokuto fails miserably to hide a smirk, but his eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked down at you. 

A few minutes (or eternity) later, his hand closes around yours, pulling it up to place against his cheek. He pulls you in by the other wrist, wrapping your arm around his waist as he cups the side of your neck. His other arm wraps almost completely around your middle, and he pulls you flush against his chest. 

His body was hard against yours, and you had no doubts he could feel your heart’s hundreds of beats per second. He tilts his head to the side ever so slightly, and you hope he doesn’t notice the sheen of sweat beginning to collect on your upper lip. 

A fire was bound to be started with how quickly everyone around began to move their pencils, and you heart races when Bokuto absentmindedly draws circles on your skin with his thumb. 

He holds you in this embrace for much longer than you anticipated, and the butterflies in your stomach were making you nauseous. His eyes are trained on your face now, the intensity of his stare making you want to shrink back, but you hold your place and return his gaze. 

His eyes narrow and squint, eyebrows wiggling as his face scrunches up in thought. 

“Do I know you?” Bokuto asks, and it was in this moment where you felt your stomach flip flop into the abyss. It was the one question you had hoped he wouldn’t think to ask you. 

Because you did know Bokuto Kotaro, but not in the way everyone else on campus knew him. 

You remember clearly the slow, dreary Wednesday morning when Akaashi Keiji asks you the same thing. 

“Uh, yeah? Of course, you know me, we’re coworkers,” you replied sarcastically, and Akaashi insists it was more than that. 

“You’re hiding something from me,” he simply states, and you inwardly thanked the customer that had walked and interrupted that moment.

But you should have known that Akaashi was not one to let things go, and after being berated the entire shift about how secrets don’t keep friends, you finally confessed.

You were a student at Fukurodani. 

Akaashi didn’t believe you. There was no way, how was that possible? He would have recognized you. But you were the year above him, and had actively avoided school sports. Because as much as you would have liked to watch your school’s Nationally Ranked Volleyball Club play and compete with super hot athletes from across the country, there was one glaring reason why you couldn’t. 

You had confessed to Bokuto Kotaro in your first year. 

And you were soundly, and absolutely rejected. 

He had every right to, of course. You were just his classmate, you didn’t even know each other that well, and he needed to focus all his attention on volleyball. It made sense.You know that now.

But to your young heart, it was world ending, soul crushing even, and it took you two years to get over your ridiculous one-sided crush. 

Now here you were, standing in front of a group of people in nothing but your underwear, with Bokuto staring at you like a fly caught in a trap.

“No, I don’t think so,” you respond, and Bokuto scoffs. 

“You’re a bad liar,” he whispers, and you find yourself grinning. 

“How would you know?” You whisper back, “You just met me.” 

“No, I definitely know you —“ 

“Alright, everyone,” Professor Nobuto announces with a smack on her desk, “That about does it for today’s session. Give some thanks to your models!”

You jump back from Bokuto as the class offers a light round of applause. The two of you bow back, and you rush over to the table as the professor approaches Bokuto. 

You leave the two of them to chat as you hurriedly put your clothes back on, hoisting your bag up on your shoulder, and nearly falling over putting your shoes on.

“Thank you for today,” Professor Nobuto sneaks up from behind, a smile on her face as she hands you a blank white envelope, “I hope I see your name on the sign up sheet again.”

You offer her a grin as you accept the envelope. “Thank you for the opportunity!”

And with that, you rush out of the stuffy room and make a bee line towards the door. 

“Hey, Peaches!” Bokuto’s voice makes you freeze from across the room, and you turn around to see him adorned only his pants. “You never told me your name?” 

With a smirk, you put your hand on the handle, walking out the door as you yelled over your shoulder. 

“I thought you said you knew me!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“That was a trap, wasn’t it,” you accuse Akaashi as soon as you see him again, walking into your shift at the café just as he was about to clock out. 

His smile was almost evil, punching out as he gathers his jacket. 

“Whatever could you possibly mean, dear coworker,” he replies, and you smack him on the shoulder. 

“You had to have known Bokuto was doing that,” you seethe, glaring at Akaashi, “And you knew about… about… you’re dangerous, Akaashi Keiji.” 

He laughs, waving you off, “You said you needed help, so I offered help.”

“Oh, you conniving little —“ 

“Akaashi, you ready?” A familiar voice cuts you, making your head twist towards the door. 

A set of white and black streaked hair, a devilish grin, bright twinkling eyes — your nightmare in human form walking in. 

His eyes widen as they meet yours from across the room, and he waves a hand in the air as if you could have possibly missed the six foot three volleyball player barely fitting through the door frame.

“Hey, Peaches!” He greets cheerfully, walking and leaning against the counter, “Fancy running into you here.”

“Peaches?” Akaashi asks, and your eyes shoot him a nasty glare. 

“I work here,” you reply, and Bokuto’s eyes widen. 

“Akaashi, why wouldn’t you tell me you have such a cutie for a coworker?!” He demands of his best friend, who simply rolls his eyes and heads out the door. 

“Let’s go, Bokuto-san!”

“Akaashi! Hey, wait,” Bokuto runs one step to the door but stops and turns back, “If I come back tomorrow, you gonna tell me your name then?” 

You laugh. “I don’t work tomorrow.” 

“I’ll ask Akaashi for your schedule then!” He screams as he runs out the door. 

The smile on your face stayed on for the rest of your shift. 

[husbandohunter]

May I request a Childe X Reader fanfic where the reader has been pushing herself too hard lately and so Childe has to forcefully get her to rest? ty

By my side [Childe x Reader]//Genshin Impact

Synopsis: You were an artist and he was an adventurer. Two people from vast backgrounds and Childe just wants to spend some time of his busy life with you. However, things didn't really go his way...at first.

(Childe x F!reader. Its all fluff)

(A/n): Perfect request anon. I too, would like to have a Childe in my life. Been getting 5-6 hours of sleep on average 😃😁. Yeah kind tossed some extra ideas with artist s/o, its a perfect reason for anyone to be busy.

============================

Once recieving the permission to take a week off from his diplomatic duties, the first thing Childe thought of was none other than his lovely significant other.

The harbinger knew quite well what lays ahead of his ventures to Liyue. During his quest for the archon's gnosis, he encountered many interesting events, such as meeting the rumoured traveller hailing from afar and a broke yet courteous man who turned out to be the ultimate ruler of this very country he walks upon then there was the battle against a dead god until he revived it using the sigil of permission. All of them were great additions to his story as Ajax the hero, something he always wanted to pursue since childhood. In which, also gave him something nice to write about when preparing letters for his siblings living back home. But little did the harbinger know that he'll one day bump into the heroine. A little too soon. Through your little art shop, he met you, a sweet and audacious woman with plenty of humour. That was how it all began.

While he strides down the streets between Liyue's exquisite buildings, Childe suddenly stops in his tracks and looks up to the sky. There, was painted a scenery of an evening dusk, sun rays relfected across until red and orange hues cast a river stream that led to the ends of the world. He watched the birds follow that streak like it was a path made for them to fly towards. A new adventure. You would have loved to captured this in your pictures.

And then he wonders, what might you be painting right now?

"Hey babe, I'm home~"

In a sing-song voice he calls out to you by your nick-name. You knew that Childe was an active member of the Fatui and that his time was limited, hence he made sure to write to you as well. Of course long distant relationships only makes the waiting more anticipated. When he does pay a visit, you'd run straight into his open arms, leaping off your feet to engulf him in one enourmous embrace. Then his hands will hold against your waist as he spins your round and around in the air, stealing the laughter out of your lungs before planting you back on the floor. Sometimes Childe would consider that being far away wasn't be such a bad idea as long as he was able to experience this, the harder the battle, the sweeter the victory. However...

"That's great."

He was met by a response similar to the wintry grace of Snezhnaya.

Huh?

All the fantasies he had from earlier shatters in the background as he stands there frozen. You didn't even spare a glance to the entrance, eyes still glued to the large canvas displayed at your front, too busy to even care. Childe clicks his tongue between the awkward silence with an uncertain expression. When there was no signs of initiation on your part, he shuffled his way to where you were and observes from behind.

"Well you're particularly quiet today," he muses to himself, placing a hand over his hip, "I guess that painting of yours must be really important then."

It was obvious that he was trying to nudge you into his favour. Something that you've found endearing was how quickly your boyfriend can be when he's in a needy state. So you quickly twisted over to peck him on the cheek before going back to work.

"That's better," Childe satisfiedly grins, "So who is this project for?"

"It's a commission requested by a wealthy family serving the Qixing. They're really influential in terms of the market and can really give me a competitive edge. I have to get it done in five days."

His tone flactuates as he squints his eyes, "Five days you say," he disliked the news of your schedule taking over his own, Childe only managed to take a week off and after that, he'll be away for quite some time, "Why don't you take a break? From the looks of your progress, it seems to me that you've been working on it for hours. I've got plenty of interesting stories to tell and you know, nothing can compare to sharing a warm meal within your company," he leans down to your ear level, "How does that sound?"

Several seconds went by as he waits for some sort of reaction, "Oh. Right," you blurted out and the harbinger only smiles, "I made some food earlier this morning. You can go help yourself if you're hungry."

Today was not his day.

Childe pulls out the wooden chair and slumps into the seat, a defeated huff escaping his mouth as he stared at the crystal shrimp placed on the table. It was hastily wrapped by plastic, most likely cold for a while, just like the romantic evening he had planned in his head. Normally you'll be sitting on the otherside while listening to the many tales he went through along the way. Although painting was your passion, it was undeniable that you also enjoyed his kind of lifestyle if you ever had the choice. He was rather surprised on how someone ambitious like him would end up with such a simplistic person but quickly accepted it as life was meant to be unpredictable, just the way he likes it. As Childe entertains you with his stories, he'll listen to your giggles amidst eating the homecooked meals that you both prepared together.

"I wonder if she ate already," he mumbled to his lone self. You most likely did but Childe knows you well. Artists are obsessed and they can go as far as to neglecting their own health for the sake of their masterpieces. Hence, he made sure to remind you to eat properly through the letters he wrote to you.

The harbinger takes a quick glance around the kitchen. It was a mess. The cupboards were slightly opened, metal pots were still displayed on the stone stove and the stench coming from the sink....

Childe pushes himsel up to see what was the cause.

Not even the dishes were washed.

Running his fingers through his bangs, he sighs wearily, "Old habits die hard huh?" And above all else, when artists are obsessed they also forget how disorganized they can become. Childe begins to roll up his sleeves before taking off his gloves. At times like this he'll have to pitch in and take care of it for you, "Looks like I'll be here for a while."

Throughout three sunsets and three moonrises, Childe had no option but to observe you from afar, minus the few attempts he made to regain your attention again. How you would go to bed much later than him, waking up before he opens his eyes and the effort he put into making your food only left with too many leftovers. It wasn't that you were unappreciative, instead, your mind had become too focused that your body was considered a second priority. Like anyone else, Childe genuinely thought you possessed great talent and supports you wholeheartedly. He loved it when you painted pictures just for him as if they were scenes coming out of his hero story, reminded by his adventures, capturing every detail. However he also needed to learn how to deal with this stubborn side of yours.

"Hey babe, I just finished preparing our dinner. Don't you smell that? Such a rich aroma, you should go eat."

"I'm busy."

Your diet were just small bites, the rest being substituted by coffee. Childe could clearly tell that you weren't getting enough sleep either as there were dark circles forming underneath your eyes and slowly, he was starting to become a little irritated.

Three hours passed midnight but you were still awake in the same place doing the same thing. Childe leans against the doorframe with arms folded, already changed into his sleeping clothes. He clears his throat to break the silence, "Ahem."

Your wrist hangs in mid air by the sound of a strange visitor, it was your boyfriend. Gaze in a daze, you lazily turned your head, "What time is it?"

"Way passed the sleeping hours as you can see," he points with his thumb at the table clock in a half-hearted manner, "You should already be in bed by now and don't think you can coax yourself out of the situation this time," his eyes parted in slits as he added with a smile, "Otherwise I might just have to force you myself."

You shook your head, "Give me one more hour? There's some finishing touches I really want to add so," clasping your hands together, you beamed sweetly, "Pretty please? I'll finish up soon."

"Oh really?" Childe challenges, head tossed back like he was interrogating you instead, "I believe that was also what you told me yesterday. And the day before? Adding up all of those days that would be.....four in total?" He deliberately counts upon his fingers before facing you again, this time his expression was slightly more serious, "As much as I find your determination remarkable, there are moments when you need to consider a sufficient amount of rest and this just isn't going to cut it."

"Four days already?!" You exclaimed, "Jeez, I don't even know if I'm halfway done."

Pressing his lips together, Childe glares in an acutely deadpanned countenance, it was also his time too, "Can't you ask this commissioner to extend your due date to next week? In your case, mora shouldn't be the issue since, well...you're dating me anyways."

It's true. Childe was the main reason why you didn't have to live as a starving artist. He had all your expenses fully covered from the marketing aspect to your residence, you simply chose to work out of pure will.

"I don't want to always rely on you so much," you confessed, "This commissioner could turn my whole career around. If I'm able to gain his favour, maybe I'll get promoted to a court painter for the Qixing! Who knows when there will ever be a chance like this again," pumping your fists, you spoke purposefully, "I'll pull an all nighters if I have to!"

Childe brings his hand to his forehead, you looked as if you were nearly about to collapse and yet still considering the option of an all-nighters? The harbinger should've detained you days prior before.

"Hm? Childe, what's wrong?" He suddenly falls deadly quiet and you watched him walk closer towards you, "What are--"

Hooking an arm behind your knees and the other at your back, your boyfriend lifts you up in one full swoop as he tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Guess we'll have to do things the hard way," he remarks cheerfully.

"W-Wait," you flailed your arms and kicked your legs but to no avail. Childe was an experienced combatant indeed, "Put me down! I have work to do."

Your protests fall upon deaf ears as the harbinger carries you to your room. You were oddly lighter than the last time he carried you, the strength less vigor than before, it was obvious that your body was in need of relaxation. He suddenly thinks there was a possibility that you would maintain this habit while he was absent.

I should probably visit more often.

Using his free leg to nudge the door open, he places you upon the shared bed in a gentle manner. You winced at the impact of the soft sheets, surprised by how much it affect you.

"There we go. All done. Man, you really are a stubborn one, aren't you. Makes me a little worried since I can't spoil you all the time."

He quickly invited himself to the empty space on your bedside and wrapped his arms around your figure, pulling you close and feeling you whole. Childe made sure there was no escape once putting his chin above your hairline so that you could feel his warmth as much as possible.

"This is--" you stuttered. His tactic was enough to make your limbs soften and you could almost hear him smirk into the distance, "This is cheating..."

"You think so?" He comments as if pledging innocence, "I don't know babe. Where I come from those who take the initiative are the ones who end up claiming the prize," pulling back, Childe takes the opportunity to observe your pouty face, "I don't make the rules. It's just how it goes."

You wanted to argue back but he suddenly took the bedsheets and covered both of your bodies with, completely trapping you with his presence. He snuggles into you further as if you were a bear made of linen and you felt the drowsiness taking over your mind. The way he gently pats down the back of your head was enough to instantly lull you into a deep sleep.

"Cheater," you mumbled.

He laughs softly, the rumbles emitting through his chest, "I love you too babe."

Even after you've let go of your resistance, Childe continues his actions until he was sure that you were resting. He had been longing to touch you like this since living a chaotic life only made peaceful moments much sweeter, "You're such a hard-worker you know that? I'm proud of you but you have to know when to call it a day," he whispers, "If not, how can I go on trips while knowing that you're still refusing to eat properly?"

You closed your eyes and said nothing in return. All your senses were too cloudy to come up with a reassuring response. Childe listens to the way your breath evens as you intake his scent during the process. It smelled like the soap you used in the showers, lotus leaves mixed with his own unique musk. You could only focus on him. His comforting embrace. His slightly accelerating heartbeat because you were together with him.

Letting out one final yawn, you succumbed to his spell and allowed your energy to drift away.

The corners of his lips tug upwards, "Sleep well princess."

Childe reaches over to your desk drawer and shuts off the alarm clock before turning over to face you again. He couldn't fall asleep immediately, not when he had to consider taking care of the commissioner who gave you an impossible deadline. But that will be saved for another day, for now, he observes in silent serenity.

If he were to quit his job for a year, what would his life be like?

Peaceful. Something opposite of what he was living right now. Something similar to the life he had back home. As you arrange the many paintings in your little home, he'll offer to help you among the places you couldn't reach. Without a doubt, Childe was far taller in comparison. Taking strolls into the streets and trying the new dishes the merchants came up with. Then in the evenings, you'll both go to dinner dates while listening to the storyteller revealing the rumours of the legendary Tianquan Qixing. Although Childe loved the adventurous life he led, he had to admit that your domesticity and family-bringing atmosphere was a tempting idea.

Maybe one day.

He lightly takes a strand that had fallen over your nose and tucked it smoothly behind your ear. The soft snores coming out of your parted lips caused his gaze to melt. And so he steals them with his own, placing a chaste goodnight kiss.

One day I'll be sure to bring my family here with us.

Closing his eyes, he joins you in your slumber, hoping to see all that he envisioned in his dreams.

[mypoisonedvine]

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 1)

summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.  

word count: 2875

warnings: smut... sort of (oral f receiving), voyeurism/exhibitionism (kinda?), touch of angst, lots of pining and awkwardness, jealous bucky being jealous, alcohol use (reader gets drunk)

Nothing annoyed you like being surrounded by stylists and being primped and prodded for hours at a time.  It made you feel claustrophobic to be touched so much: makeup artists only inches from your face, tailors watching you change, hairstylists nearly spraying you in the eye or burning you on the forehead every few minutes.

Not to mention how uncomfortable it was to actually be in the whole get-up once they were done.

But, such was the nature of a red carpet event.  This one was going to be particularly bland because it wasn't even a premiere or awards event but a launch party for a perfume campaign.  How lame is that?  It's one of those things that really only exists so that there can be pictures of it to put in a magazine, because they're always running out of good pictures of celebrities to publish.

Finally all dolled up to the point that you didn't look even very much like yourself anymore, your assistant accompanied you downstairs and into your driveway where your car was waiting; and, more importantly, its driver and your driver, Bucky.

He was a gruff sort of guy; certainly a man of few words and many brooding glares.  Sometimes you thought he didn't like you— like maybe he resented your fame or something— but then he'd turn around and be so sweet all of a sudden and you didn't know what to think.  For one, he demanded to open the door for you every time you got out of the car.  Sometimes he even extended his hand for you to grab on to, which was especially useful for red carpet events when you were usually wearing skinny heels that were impossible to balance on.

Such was the case tonight as well, and you smiled up at him as he helped you out of the car and up towards the steps of the venue.

"Thank you," you smiled at him, and he barely smiled back.

"Have a good night, madam," he suggested, a formal stuffiness to the way he addressed you.

You nodded,  "You too!"  That made you pause, though, because you weren't sure what his night would entail at all.  "Say, what is it that you do when I'm at an event like this?"

He seemed confused by your question.  "Um, I sit in the car and wait until you're ready to leave."

Guilt seared in your chest and you frowned.  "That's it?  You don't, like, go out?  Catch a movie?"

"Nope.  That would prevent me from doing my other job, which is watching the points of entry to make sure there aren't any threats to security going in."

"Right…" you trailed off.  "You could always come in, you know, grab some free drinks and stuff."

"I thought you didn't want any of your team following you around at events."

"Yeah, don't follow me around, just mingle and kill some time!"

Bucky shook his head.  "If I'm not there as your driver or as your security, then I'm not there."

You shrugged.  "Suit yourself, but please feel free to, like, get some food or whatever you wanna do while I'm in there!  Don't just wait on me!"

He smiled, but it looked a little rehearsed. "Thank you, madam."

You realized he'd been holding your hand through the entire conversation, cause you'd asked him your question midway through getting out of the car.  Awkwardly, you finally dropped his hand and waved goodbye, escorting yourself up the last few steps and into the door.

God, he must think I'm such a freak.

//

God, she must think I'm such a freak.

Bucky munched on the sandwich he'd had delivered (yes, to the car, how else was he supposed to get it?) as he dutifully watched the entrance.  Against your advice, he had every intention of just sitting around and waiting for you, but he wasn't bored; he had a Mets game on the radio to keep him company.

"— top of the third, bases loaded, DeGrom is at the plate with one swing left aaaaaand… he strikes out!"

"Shit," Bucky grumbled to himself around a mouthful of pastrami.

Glancing up, he saw someone stumbling out of the party: squinting, he realized it was you.  He looked at the clock with a furrowed brow, noticing it was a little earlier than he'd thought you'd leave, but then he saw that there was someone with you… a guy.

Bucky set his sandwich down and turned the key in the ignition as he watched you pull your phone out of your clutch— ostensibly to text him to bring the car around, but he was already ahead of you, quickly exiting the parking lot and circling the building so he could pull up at the steps.  He was about to get out to open the door for you but this random guy did it instead, before tumbling in after you.

"That tickles!" you protested with a giggle as your new friend started to kiss your neck, his hands all over you before Bucky had even gotten the car moving.

You were too drunk and distracted to notice that the partition was still open.  Of course Bucky had considered closing it, in fact he wanted more than anything to close it so he wouldn't have to see this, but some sick part of his brain needed to see it.  How else could he know if something went wrong and he had to get back there and stop it?  How else would he keep you safe?

How else would he get to find out how you sound when you're being touched like this?

He couldn't see too well with it being the middle of the night and all, but every time he drove past a streetlamp or particularly bright neon sign, the colorful glow would shine in and cast light over your neck where your head had fallen back in pleasure; or your collarbones, exposed where your dress had been pulled down; or your chest, rising quickly with the speed of your panting breaths.

Ogling you in the rearview mirror made him feel like a total creep, but it satisfied a bit of the urge he'd been feeling ever since he started driving you.  He wasn't actually a driver, at least not usually; he was more or less your bodyguard at this point, but you were really adamant about having a small detail and so that was why he was working double-duty tonight… and why he'd been doing so for almost three months now.

"Baby," you gasped, and his eyes shot right back to your reflection; you were writhing against the seat, and he could just barely see the top of the guy's head where it was buried between your legs.  You took your bottom lip between your teeth, lips curling into a relaxed smile.  His cock was not only hard but throbbing at this point, as if that was going to do him any good.  He barely ever got to look at you, and he knew he would never, ever be able to touch you— beyond holding your hand as you stepped out of the car, at least.  Whenever he did that, he imagined for a moment that he wasn't your driver at all but your date, that he would get to keep your hand as he guided you down the red carpet with him.  Not that he wanted any of the attention that you got, of course, but at the same time he did like the idea of all those photographers snapping pictures of his arm around your waist, or you looking up at him with your hand on his chest.  They'd all run stories wondering what a beautiful, successful, massively talented woman like you was doing with a guy like him, but he wouldn't find the energy to care about crap like that if he had you all to himself.  

Another whimper from you pulled him out of his daydream, reminding him to focus on the road as best he could.  He knew you would hate him if you knew that he'd thought about you like that.  Or if you knew about all those times he'd checked in on you while you slept at night and lingered a bit too long.  Or if you knew that he had rewatched that one sex scene you'd done in your last movie about a thousand times.  It always broke his heart to see you underneath some other guy (his name was either Dermot Mulroney or Dylan McDermott or possibly Dermot McDermott?) and yet it turned him on like nothing else to watch you immersed in pleasure.  Similarly, now, he couldn't stand knowing it was someone else making you moan the way he was hearing, but it was the best he was ever gonna get.

"Oh god," you sighed, "fuck, yes, yes, oh my god yes—"

His grip tightened on the steering wheel and it must have been the noise of the leather stretching that made you notice him; as if every dream and nightmare of his was coming true at once, your gaze met his in the reflection of the rearview.

He was so screwed, and he was totally going to get fired tomorrow, but he couldn't look away.  Your eyes were like dark magic the way they pulled him in, kept him locked on you as his face started to burn so hot it could cook an egg.  

Staring you down, he saw your mouth fall slack as your hands reached down to grab your date's hair and tighten into fists.  Shivers shot down his spine as he imagined the way it would feel if you pulled his hair like that.  

The longer you kept looking at him, the more a very dangerous thought danced in the back of his mind…

What if she wants me to watch?

Which, even more concerningly, started to slowly morph into another idea…

What if she wants me?

He was sure you were coming.  It wasn't obvious; you didn't say anything, didn't moan too loud, didn't scream or sob or call out any names (which made it easier to pretend it was for him) but he could tell.  Your swollen lips were parted silently as he watched your breath catch in your chest, and your hands clenched around fistfuls of hair.  What he would give for you to pull his hair like that, and come for him like that— except he wouldn't have stopped there, unlike your current companion who was already moving back up your body to kiss you hungrily.  

He'd always thought you had really pretty hands, and they looked pretty good sliding over the back of this guy's suit jacket, but he liked them best when they gently pushed him off.  "We're almost there," you mumbled as Bucky turned the car into the driveway, using his fob to open the gate.  

Once he'd come to a stop outside your door and turned off the engine, the three of you exited and stood up as you yawned and stretched.

"You'll take Jack here home, right?" you asked Bucky quickly.

"It's Jake…" the man corrected with hesitance.

"Right, Jake," you smiled, "you'll take him to his place, right?"

Bucky gave the guy a smile dripping with gloating contempt, loving the disappointed look he was wearing as he realized he wasn't going to be spending the night in your bed.  "It'd be my pleasure," he announced coldly.

"Great, thanks," you sighed.  Standing on your tiptoes to give the guy a kiss on the cheek and a pat on the shoulder, you thanked him for a great night and made your way into the house.

Jake looked around in confusion for a moment before getting back in the car along with Bucky, sighing and running his fingers through his hair.

"What address am I going to?"

"Uh, 333 15th Street, in Brooklyn," the guy replied, pausing to let out a soft but incredulous laugh as the car began to move.  "Level with me, man: does she… do this kind of thing, a lot?  You know: bring guys over, make it seem like something's gonna… happen, but then just send ‘em back home and never call again?"

With a silent glare, Bucky rolled up the partition.

//

You heard the front door, even from your current location of the shower upstairs, and knew Bucky was home— okay, not exactly ‘home’ since he didn't leave here full-time, but home in the sense that he was in your home and in the place he would be staying tonight.  You just hoped he'd actually stopped the car before kicking Jake out; he never cared much for when you had guys over or really just interacted with guys at all, because of the "security risks" or whatever.

Next, you heard him coming up the stairs and passing by your door.  "Hey, Bucky, you out there?" you called to him.

"Yeah, what is it?" he answered through the door. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I just—" you stopped when you heard the crinkling of paper.  "What is that?  Do you have food?"

"Um, yeah," he answered.

Your stomach growled; the event had only had tiny hors d'oeuvres, and the alcohol in your system enhanced your desire for a midnight snack.  "What kinda food?"

"It's a sandwich— well, what's left of one: I was eating it while I waited for you."

"Are you gonna finish it?" you asked curiously.

"No, I was thinking I'd put it in the fridge for tomorrow."

You paused a bit before asking, "Can I have it?"

"Yeah, sure, you can get it in the morning—" he began.

"No, now!" you clarified.

There was a pause before he responded.  "Right now?  In the shower?"

"Yeah, just bring it in here!"

"I-I'll let you finish showering first—" he stammered.

"No, Bucky," you whined, "just come in here!  I'm hungry!"

Another pause before he finally opened the door, his blurry figure visible through the steam-covered frosted glass. 

"What's on it?" you asked as you washed the last of your shampoo out of your hair.

"It's pastrami on rye with jalapeños, fresh mozzarella, pesto and some sort of spicy aioli or something."

"Ooh, come to mama," you purred as you reached over the top of the door with opening-and-closing grabby hands, squeeing with glee when he placed the wax paper package in your grasp.

"Okay, enjoy your drunken shower sandwich," he congratulated grimly, about to turn and leave.

"No, wait, where'd you get this?" you asked as you leaned out of the stream of hot water to unwrap your bounty.

"Uh, you know the deli on 8th and Columbus?"

"You went all the way out there?"

"No, I had it delivered."

You snorted with laughter.  "Couldn't leave me alone for even a minute, huh?"

"Well, I fully intended on leaving you alone for this shower."

But you didn't really notice that comment because you'd just taken a bite and couldn't stop yourself from moaning loudly around it.  "Oh my god, Bucky, this is so good!"

He cleared his throat.  "Uh, glad you like it."

"You have good taste in sandwiches!"

"I think the word for 'taste in sandwiches' is just 'taste,’” he pointed out, his smirk audible in his voice.

"Can we go to this place tomorrow and you can order for me?"

"We can do whatever you want tomorrow," he relented.

"If you drive, I'll pay,” you offered.

"I always drive.  And you always pay,” he pointed out.

You frowned, not visible to him through the steamy glass.  "I do?"

"You pay my salary, so, yeah…"

You laughed, a little too hard. "You're so smart!"

"Sure,” he replied quickly.

“Okay, I’m almost done in here,” you informed him.

“With the sandwich or the shower?” 

You laughed with a little snort, which would’ve embarrassed sober you.  “Both!”

“Okay, I’ll leave you to it then,” he replied, starting to go back out the door.

“See you tomorrow, Bucky,” you waved even though he couldn’t see it.

“I don’t know that I will,” he admitted, “you’ll probably be hungover and lock yourself in your room all day.”

“Hmm, possibly,” you agreed as you pondered that.  “Then I guess just ‘goodnight,’ and I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Goodnight,” he replied and stepped out of the bathroom— you could hear him go downstairs and shut the door to his room, and you glanced down at the last bite of your/his sandwich with a smile.

You must have gotten in bed at some point, cause that was the last thing you could really remember before you woke up a bit before noon, bright orange sunlight shining directly on your face where it rested on the pillow.  You groaned and turned over, feeling like your brain was too big for your skull.  You sat up when you saw a menagerie of unfamiliar items on your nightstand.  A bottle of pedialyte, a bottle of Fiji water, a few aspirin, an orange and a banana waited for you in a pile, with a little piece of paper sitting in front which you read.

Hope you’re feeling alright, these might help in the meantime.  -B

You smiled, twisting open the Fiji and taking a sip.  Bucky always took such good care of you, even in ways he didn’t need to.  What would you do without him?

[bjornswoman]

hey babe! Do you take requests ? İf you do, could you do a story with these prompts? And ofc with bjorn please?

Prompts : "Would you do the same for me?” & "don’t touch me!” &

“Did you ever care about us? Or was that another one of your lies?”

False promises

Requested by @bjornsholyarmring.

Author's note: Hey guys! I hope that is what you had asked. If it isn't, let me know and I will write it again the way you want it to be. Also, sorry for being inactive for so long, I had some problems that needed to be fixed. I ensure that I am writing stuff right now and I have a lot of work to do. Sometimes is coming stay tuned! I hope you will like this. Till the next time have fun and take care!

Pairing: Modern!Bjorn x Reader.

Genre: Modern!au, sad, romance, drama.

Summary: Bjorn has cheating on you.

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, heartbreaking.

"Is Bjorn here?" You asked Ubbe, as you were getting inside the living room of his father's mansion, trying to act like your normal self. Like you weren't crying some moments before.

After the news you received it was natural for you to cry. But you didn't want Ubbe, or any other member of his family to notice that you were crying before. You didn't want to cause a scene in front of all these people. You wanted to yell, cry, hit and yell again to Bjorn after what he did to you.

"He is coming. I talked to him some minutes ago, he is on his way. That's what he said." Ubbe answered to you and showed you the way which led in the living room.

You followed him and when you were in there, you sat on an armchair. Ubbe sat on the couch opposed to the armchair which you were sitting. Torvi, his wife, was sitting on the same couch as him. She was there before you.

"What happened to you?" Torvi asked you, noticing that something was wrong with you. You forced a fake smile on your face, trying to seem natural as two couples of eyes were examining your face.

"Nothing, I am fine. I just want to talk with Bjorn about something. That's all."

You weren't good at lying. It was obvious that you weren't fine. Both of them noticed your red eyes and the tone of your voice. You were angry and sad at the same time.

You weren't even looking at them. You didn't want them to understand —which they did.

"Is everything alright between you and Bjorn?" Ubbe was the one who asked this time. You looked at them both —Ubbe and Torvi. Then, you looked at the clock on the wall in front of you.

Nothing was alright between you and Bjorn. You thought that it was, but apparently you were wrong. You were wrong until you learned the whole truth. Bjorn was cheating on you the whole time. It wasn't that you were such a stupid person and you didn't notice anything. You had noticed once. You were about to leave him, but he promised to you that this wouldn't happen again. Bjorn didn't keep his promise. He cheated on you again.

All this situation made you feel bad about yourself, about your appearance. Why would he do that? Were you so ugly? Why were he even in relationship with you? And this woman. Apparently, she was better than you. He wouldn't have anything with her if she wasn't.

"Yes, everything it's perfect. Things couldn't be better." You lied.

"I—" Torvi was about to say something, but she didn't say it. She started and didn't finish. She decided not to say anything. Maybe, she didn't say anything because Bjorn entered the living room, smiling and greeted all of you.

"(Y/N), I wasn't expecting you. Did we have a date and I forgot about it? Excuse me about it, these past weeks at the company are really exhausting." He told you and you forced a smile again.

"No, no, we didn't have a date. I just wanted to talk to you about something."

You stood up next to him. He seemed curious, he didn't know what you wanted to talk about and didn't expect you to know what he did.

"Tell me."

"I would prefer to talk private." You answered him. "Excuse me guys." You referred to Ubbe and Torvi.

"Okay. Let's go upstairs." Bjorn said frowned and followed you upstairs in his room. When you were inside his bedroom, Bjorn closed the door behind him and sat on the bed. He patted the mattress next to him, motioning you to sit next to him, but you avoided him. You stayed still in front of him. Nobody talked for some seconds. "What did you want to talk about?" He asked looking straight in your eyes.

"About Porunn."

When you mentioned her name, he froze. You crossed your hands on your chest, looking at him, waiting for him to tell you the truth that you wanted to listen.

"What about her?"

You scoffed when you listened his question and looked anywhere else except him. He was enraging you. He knew exactly what you were saying. He knew that you knew everything.

"You know what I am talking about."

"I don't."

"You do."

"Honestly, I don't."

This game was pissing you off. You rolled you eyes and then you looked at Bjorn again.

"I know about your lies and your betrayal. I know that you cheated." You muttered. You tried hard not to start crying again. The tears were already in your eyes and you were fighting them.

"(Y/N), I—"

"I feel bad about myself all this time. I forgave you before and tried to feel good again, but I can't and, apparently, I'm not beautiful and good enough for you." You spoke and tears started falling from your eyes. You couldn't fight them anymore. You didn't have so much power. You felt really bad.

"(Y/N), it just happened once. I was drunk, we fought and you didn't talk to me. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. You are perfect. You are the most beautiful woman in the whole world. Give me a second chance." Bjorn said. He stood up and reached you. He extended his hand to touch you, but you didn't let him.

"Don't touch me!" You screamed and he did as you told him to. He was stood in front of you. You sighed heavy and turned around, running your hands through your head. You were really upset. You didn't know what to say. You closed your eyes and sighed again. After some seconds you opened your eyes and turned to face him again. "I feel hurt and betrayed and it's not the first fucking time. I have forgiven you before for the same thing and, now, you are asking me to forgive you. Again! What if I cheated on you, would you do the same for me? Would you forgive me? Would you give a second second chance?" You asked him, looking at him. His large hands made it to both your cheeks and wiped your tears away from your face. You didn't stop him from touching you this time.

Bjorn hesitated to answer for some time, but he did gave you an answer.

"I wouldn't."

Was the only thing that came out of his mouth. It wasn't like you didn't expect his answer. You knew that he wouldn't do the same for you. You wouldn't fall for his lies again. You had decided that you would end things with him. It hurt you, but you had no choice. You loved him and it wasn't secret, but you couldn't stay in this relationship anymore. You couldn't let him treating you like that. Nobody deserved this.

"I can't do that either. This relationship is hurting me. Your actions are hurting me. I have no choice left, but to end things with you. This relationship makes me feel bad and insecure about myself." As you were speaking, a tear fell from his blue eyes. You hated hurting, like he had hurt before, but you couldn't do that to yourself anymore. Tears were falling from your eyes too.

"I promise you that if you forgive me this time, I will be the best man for you. I love (Y/N). Please." He muttered and you closed your eyes. The tears were streaming unconditionally from your eyes. You couldn't hear him saying the word 'please'. You didn't want to give in. You didn't want to believe his fake promises again. You believed once and he didn't keep his promise.

"This isn't love. You don't cheat on the person you love and, of course, I can't trust your promises. In fact, you false promises. I did once and look what is happening now. I am the price of my silly actions." You said. Bjorn didn't answer, so you found the chance to say all those things that you needed to say. "In fact, I don't believe that you ever cared about me. All you care about is yourself. You just wanted to have your fun with me and at the same time you had fun with other women too when I was too boring for you."

All the time you were talking, you were crying too.

Your words hurt him. They made him angry too.

"That's not true!" He screamed angry.

"Yeah, yeah." You scoffed "Did you ever care about us? Or was that another one of your lies?" You asked like you hadn't heard any word of his.

"Are you even listening to what I am saying?" He asked angry and you scoffed again.

"No. Now fucking answer to me!" You yelled and he run his hand through his blonde hair.

"Yes, I fucking did! I fucking do! I fucking love you! For fuck's sake!" He yelled too and placed a cigarette on his lips. Before he could light it up, uou threw it away of his mouth.

You didn't like when he smoked. It was bad for him and really unhealthy. It was killing him.

"This kills you!" You yelled again, before he could say anything about his cigarette. "And I don't trust you anymore. We are done, Bjorn." You said and placed your hand on your mouth to stop yourself from sobbing.

"(Y/N)." He muttered your name and gripped your arm firmly to stop you from leaving him.

"No, Bjorn. It's better this way. All this was a lesson for both of us." You spoke softly and placed your hand on his to take it away from your arm. "I love you, Bjorn. I will always love you." You said, as you were taking his hand away from your arm. Tears were covering both your faces. The image of him crying were tearing your heart apart, but you couldn't act otherwise. It was the best choice for both of you.

"I love you, (Y/N)."

This was the last thing you heard before you got out of his room and his house.

After that day you hadn't seen Bjorn again for a long time. Later, you heard that he got married with Porunn and had a child, a daughter, with her. You felt happy for him. You loved him and because of that you wanted him to be happy. Apparently, Porunn made him happy.

Some things aren't made to last, one of them was your relationship with Bjorn. Because you couldn't be together didn't mean you didn't love each other. He loved you with his own way that you couldn't understand and you loved him with yours. But love isn't always enough for relationships. Trust is important too, along with other stuff.

Maybe you will be together in another life if that thing exists.

[honeydew-mel0n]

Can I request Vergil chaperoning his daughter at her prom dance? Thank you! 🙏🏼

So, remember what I said about writing a semi-soft Dadgil? I got really excited to write Dadgil (that isn't the fucking dadV sequel) and this concept is so funny to me but,,,,,, this was a little difficult. I don't actually know anything about dads, or prom.

But!!!!! Thanks for the request!

Dad!Vergil × Daughter! Reader (chaperoneing her junior/senior prom)

Last Dance of the Night

“Are you sure you can’t do it?”

You whisper into the mouthpiece of the phone, shooting glances up the stairs, being able to catch a glimpse of your father straightening himself up in the hallway mirror. “No can do, I know it’s really important, and I'd love to be there but- Hey!” 

You jolt back at the sound of your brother's voice through the phone, once again looking up the stairs to check if he heard the loud squabbling coming through the phone. He’s frozen in place, trying to assess something. Before pushing back his hair.

“Anyway, look Bug, I can't. I'm busy.” A sigh leaves your lips as your shoulders slump. “You’re useless.” “HEY-” 

You hang up, quickly dialing another number on the rotary. You listen to it dial, half expecting him not to pick up, but it clicks and there's a hefty sigh from the other end. “Devil May Cry.” “Hey, Uncle Dante. I, uh, need your help.” “What happened?”

You tap your foot on the carpet. “Sooooo, prom being tonight, I checked the list of parent chaperones who signed up. And…. Dad's name was there.” There’s silence on the other end for a good minute before a roar of laughter. “Please, you could show up for him, and don’t even have to stay. Sign in, then sneak out the back door. They’ll see that you’ve already signed in and won’t let him in.” 

As the laughter continues on and your hope dies, why did you ever think you could rely on your family? The hair on the back of your neck shoots straight up. Oh no. You slam the phone down and turn on your heel. Trying your best to pull a smile that didn’t show how scared you are. 

“Hey dad.” His face is blank, there’s no sign of anger. “It’s getting late, shouldn’t you be on your way already?” You nod, swallowing hard and trying to find an excuse.

“Just made a quick call to Nero. Big day, he’s really excited for me. I really should get going though…” He just nods, wrapping a lace shawl around your shoulders. You drop the nervous smile and a real one forms, his thumb rubbing the fabric gently. “You look lovely.”

“Thanks Daddy.” You hop onto your tiptoes, and he leans down just slightly. You press a kiss to his cheek. 

You slip out the front door waving a goodbye, knowing full well he was watching you from the window. It didn’t take much power walking to escape his view before ducking into your date's porch. Quickly checking to see if you were followed before you decided to knock. 

Their mom opens the door, a delighted smile splits her face. “Oh my gosh Honey! You look so pretty!” She welcomes you in, taking you to their living room. Quickly hurring off to get her child. Looking over their happy family photos you smile melancholy. 

There are loud footsteps, and your date stops abruptly, jaws going slack. “Wow…”

-

You both wave goodbye to their mom as you walk to the overcrowded gym. The staff stand in a row on each side of the door, screaming and cheering as all of the students make their ways inside. 

You cringe as teachers in their 40’s fake enthusiasm, their only real joy being that most of you will soon either be gone for the summer and the others leaving at the end of the year and be some college professor's problem. Your eyes scan the room before ducking behind a wave of people. “*Babe, what the hell?” “My dad.” 

Their eyes widen as they look through the crowd, finding him quickly before returning their gaze to you. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” your face warms. “I was caught up in the moment!” You two try to walk casually to a table and sit down.

God the decor was bad.

If you’ve ever seen the 70’s version of Carrie, where the prom decor was aggressively cheap and 70’s… That, but worse. The gym still smells like last week's basketball game, and no plug in air freshener is going to erase that. 

Kinda smells like your uncle's shop. 

You both keep your heads down. “What did you tell him?” “Last week I told him that I didn’t have a date, and that I was going with a group of friends because we all couldn’t get dates.” They narrow their eyes. “Babe, why?”

“He pretends he doesn’t but… he worries a whole lot about me. I knew he’d stalk you if I told him the truth. But hey, you aren't a boy, so maybe he won’t react badly.” Their eyes widen and you shiver, it’s that icy stare you know all too well. They swallow, before straightening their collar. “What about our plan to sneak out?” 

You look around at the four different doors. “We’ll find a way, give it an hour.” 

“I figured out a way to get out, but I do want to dance with you first. I just need to use the bathroom first, wait for me, okay?” you nod and watch as they walk past a crowd of people and seemingly disappear.  

The lights dim and time passes, things eventually become more lax. You wanted to move around to try and get a escape path (and to experience what you can of prom), but your date refuses to get up at all, especially to dance and make something of the time you have.

They clear their throat and start to get up, leaning down and whispering. 

And you wait. 

And wait, and wait. Maybe, maybe they did disappear. Looking over the groups and couples dancing, and those who were still sitting like you, they were nowhere. Not in here at least. You sigh, sinking down in the uncomfortable metal chair. 

More time passes, and nothing. You start to wish you’d just gone with some friends, maybe then you wouldn’t have gotten ditched and actually had a good time. 

The clock ticks on, and it's becoming more obvious that the staff are getting ready to kick everyone out. The D.J. has been playing straight slow songs for the past 20 minutes, and you’ve had to watch couples and friends slow dance together and two people get crowned king and queen.

You tried your best to seem happy, like you were enjoying yourself. 

Pulling out your phone you see a notification from your dates account. They posted 7 minutes ago. It’s a video of them and their friends fucking around outside of a conveniance store in prom suits and dresses. You feel yourself tear up, slouching lower in the chair. The lights and people become blurry, c’mon, you don’t want to cry. 

A hand comes to rest on your shoulder, you look over your shoulder to see your father looking down at you. “Y/n.” “Hey Dad.” You say, no longer having anything to hide. Not that you can hide anything from him for long. 

He takes the seat your date had, lips pressed shut in a permanent scowl, just like normal. It didn’t scare you, that's just him. “It seems your companion abandoned you.” You scoff, pulling up your shawl. “Yeah…” “You’re upset.” “That obvious?” 

You laugh at your own joke. If he’d been your brother, he would’ve laughed too. But he sits there awkwardly, not knowing how to comfort you in this situation. “They couldn’t even give me one dance before they left me either.”

The current song playing stops and you can hear a few people whine at the idea that the next would be the last of the night. 

A hand is extended to you, your fathers, he stands waiting. It's not an option, it's a demand. You take it, getting up and following him.

The song starts and he starts to dance, but you trip over yourself. Stepping on his feet several times. 

“Sorry… I forgot how to dance.”

Both remembering too-small tiaras being shoved in his hair, little feet with sparkly plastic princess slippers on his, and a random song playing in the background. Trying desperately to teach you how to dance after you’d begged him to. 

Forgot.

You watch him smile, just slightly. The darkness giving him the anonymity to do so.

He never did, but you had so much fun. 

“That's fine, just do what you used to.” 

You step onto his feet, making you move the same as him. A question burns under your skin before you chew your lip. “You’re not mad at me?” “For?” “Lying about who I went with.” There’s a low growl like sigh. “We will deal with that later.” 

You nod, not worrying about it now. Resting your head on his chest, closing your eyes, tears streaming down your face now... All of what happened melts away, the safety of your father makes it go away. He always does. 

[renaerys]

22. for reds 🤡

This is 100% not what you asked for (yet...👀), but I give you part 1 of what we're calling the Weird King AU. I'm turning this into a proper multi-chapter High School fic because I love you and I'd jump on any bandwagon for you.

xxx

Like most young, conventionally attractive Supervillains, Brick had made a bit of a habit of failing upwards. It was pretty easy in a town full of simpering morons content to project their own narrative assumptions onto him, and who was he to crush their dreams when they made his life a little easier?

For example, dating.

“You can tell me, you know.” His cute date, Tracy, sipped her milkshake across from him.

“Tell you what?”

She softened and reached her hand across the table. “Your tragic backstory. I’ll listen without judgment, I promise.”

Brick tried to think of something tragic, but it all seemed pretty underwhelming as far as Supervillain origin stories went. “You mean like how I was born in a toilet?”

She made an oh shape with her lips. “We all have those days where we feel like we were born in a toilet, Brick.”

He’d dated Tracy for three months before she broke up with him out of the blue in tears: sorry she couldn’t fix his baggage, she just wasn’t strong enough to handle all that tortured darkness, but she wished him nothing but health and happiness. Brick deleted her number from his phone and spent twenty whole minutes staring at the toilet in his bathroom, wondering what the lesson here was.

But everything changed when Mojo got out of prison and moved Brick and his brothers back to Townsville, where he enrolled them in the local high school alongside their former arch nemeses, the Powerpuff Girls.

Suddenly, everything Brick did pre-supposed ill intent. These people remembered him as the pest who had graffitied their local monuments and blown up their cars and endangered their children. They held no love for him, and at best they feared him. This was not Citiesville, where he’d been a tall, cold glass of Voss water in a sea of recycled Dasani.

He found himself thinking about his birthing toilet again as he stepped into the cafeteria alone and the conversation quieted down as his new classmates watched him from the safety of their tables. His next moves here were critical. He was no longer at the top of the food chain, but fear and mystery surrounding his origins and character gave him a certain power over his peers.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of social suicide, I will fear no cringe,” he said to himself.

The jocks were out. Capable though he may be, Brick was not much of a team player unless there was a blood contract involved requiring his participation on pain of satanic torture. The drama kids were also a hard pass, not because he thought drama was lame, but because they had barely noticed him walk in, and Brick did not have the energy to deal with people more self-involved than himself. Some of the unaffiliated tables could be safe, but without a good understanding of the nuanced social dynamics in the high school, he could be heading toward irreversible doom, and that was a risk he was not willing to take.

He saw his salvation just ahead. It was the only option, all else being equal. In an environment where he couldn’t be certain of his baseline status and potential for upward mobility, there was greatness to be had only by association and certainty only in the devil he knew.

Brick helped himself to the empty seat directly across from Blossom Utonium to a chorus of gasps and staring.

Blossom did not startle like her table mates had. She watched him critically behind a head full of bangs as she balanced her soup spoon in her hand. “Really.”

Brick unwrapped the burrito he’d purchased in the lunch line and brandished it before him. “Really.”

He took a bite of the burrito. It was not hot enough. The two girls to Blossom’s left whispered to each other about that bad boy and he’s hot, though.

Blossom daintily spooned soup into her mouth without spilling a single drop as she continued to watch Brick for signs of his imminent dark side transformation.

The guy next to Brick was brave enough to ask him what his next class was. Brick had a mouth full of disappointing burrito, so he passed the guy the printout of his class schedule in lieu of answering.

“Wow, all APs, huh? Hey, we’re in U.S. History together next period, nice. I’m Mike Believe, by the way. Brick Jojo, right?”

Brick didn’t answer him immediately on account of the burrito currently occupying his mouth hole, and Mike took it the wrong way.

“Oh, yeah, we all know who you are. Blossom sort of filled us in.” He winced like he’d inadvertently revealed a terrible secret.

Brick swallowed his food and washed it down with a gulp of water. “Saves me some time.”

Mike looked super relieved. “For sure! Hey, I could lend you my notes if you want to catch up. Gershwin’s giving a quiz on the Progressive Era on Friday, and she’s a hard-ass who definitely won’t care that you just transferred…”

Brick chewed on his lunch as Mike continued to talk at him about classes and other vaguely helpful, albeit uninteresting, information. But Mike seemed normal enough, a little chatty but not in an overeager sort of way. Blossom was no longer clocking his every move and seemed to be absorbed in her friend’s latest swim team cheating scandal, until Brick reached for his water bottle and she suddenly laser-focused on his wandering hand.

Her keen attention to him was honestly flattering, if expected. It was in his nature to be noticed, and in this narrow respect she was no different from anyone else whose head he turned. If she chose to feed her interest with the flames of suspicion, then it was no difference to him.

But if she was anything like him—and on a chemical level she was probably the closest to him that a person could get—he suspected it took tremendous effort to hold her full and sustained attention. The world they inhabited was as vapid and mundane as the humans that surrounded them, and even the most gracious of gods grew bored of worship. Which explained all the smiting and fucking and generational curses upon entire households in everything from Greek mythology to the Old Testament.

Brick was pretty deep into a fantasy of Blossom going full Ixion and the Wheel on the swim team when Mike tapped his shoulder. “You ready to go?”

It took him a moment to realize the bell had rung and he had a class to get to—AP U.S. History with Mike, apparently. Brick gathered his tray and his bag and followed Mike. When he looked back at the table, Blossom was already gone.

xxx

That whole first week was painfully boring. No one bullied him, or pranked him, or picked a fight with him, of course. But no one really approached him, either. His brothers were more determined to make an effort. Boomer announced he was trying out for the soccer team because there was no rule saying a Super with extremely well documented ties to active criminals and the forces of Hell couldn’t kick a ball around a field. Butch had gotten himself invited to a midnight screening of Snakes on a Plane in some rich kid’s home movie theater, but only after that same kid had accidentally spilled milk on Butch and burst into tears in front of a cafeteria full of Juniors and Seniors. Brick declined the invitation Butch extended to him. He had that AP U.S. History exam to study for on Friday, anyway.

He shared all of his classes with Blossom. Even in the classes where her assigned seat was behind his and he couldn’t see her, he could feel her lobotomizing stare at the back of his head whenever she glanced up from her notebook. And while Mike’s notes were perfectly adequate and the friendly gesture counted for more than the content (a gesture Brick would not soon forget), there was a far more efficient way to accomplish his goal of murdering the class averages while also taking the edge off his loner doldrums.

“Can I borrow your class notes?”

Blossom rose from her seat and pulled her hair tie out to re-do her extremely long ponytail. She held the elastic between her teeth as she worked. Her teeth were very straight, he noticed. Some pretty nice girl-teeth, generally speaking.

“Which class?”

“All of them.”

He watched her wind the elastic around her hair with quick, adroit fingers. “That’s a lot of notes.”

“You’re the top of every class. No point in asking anyone else.”

She moved toward the hall. He followed her out. “Why would I help you?”

A legitimate question delivered without venom. Unlike her sister Buttercup, who’d “run into” Brick after school on Monday and told him to watch his back, Blossom didn’t have to do anything but maintain a general proximity to make her superiority complex known. Which was the kind of flex he could fuck with.

“Isn’t helping people sort of your mandate?”

They had arrived at her locker, which she opened with enough force to rattle the hinges. “I help the helpless. Are you helpless, Brick?”

Brick smiled at her baiting. Had she ever actually said his name at a normal volume before? It sounded good even in her baseline bitch timbre. “Critically helpless. I’m the new student who transferred in the middle of the semester, and you’re the only person who knows me.”

A couple other students clearly trying to get to the lockers Brick was blocking hovered just out of reach. They whispered to each other, but neither of them actually worked up the courage to ask Brick to move. He ignored them.

Blossom rummaged in her locker for the binder she would need for the next class. “Make friends.”

“Working on it.”

The locker door slammed and she faced him. There was something confrontational in the way she held herself before him that kicked him in the nuts back in time thirteen years to their more uncouth days when all he wanted to do was destroy her so he’d be the only one. Now they were older and wiser and he actually did need her notes to study, so destroying her was not high on his list of priorities.

“You want to be my friend.”

“We have so much in common.”

“So do lions and hyenas.”

“Both are apex predators, so.”

She took a step closer and peered up at him. Brick did not move, although he wondered what was so interesting about his face. She probably just thought he was hot. She was probably as bored as he was. She probably—

“You have lettuce in your teeth.”

Brick pulled back and covered his mouth on instinct. God fucking damnit.

Blossom was already walking away from him by the time he’d picked the food from his teeth. “I’ll expect my notes back in mint condition before first period tomorrow morning.”

Brick pressed a fist against the lockers and quietly fumed. “Dumbass…”

“Um, sorry, but do you mind…?”

The student who’d been waiting for her locker space to clear up had her palms up as if to assuage a feral stray. Brick pushed off the lockers, but his fist left a dent where he’d unleashed some of his impotent self-pity. He looked back at the girl, and she shook her head.

“It’s fine! It, uh, it happens sometimes.” She pointed a couple lockers down to Blossom’s, which was dinged up worse than the others.

Brick stared at Blossom’s locker, and then back at the girl. Her narrow, dark eyes were wide, but not out of fear. She was waiting for something, and like an idiot it took him a moment to catch up. “You’re trying to make me feel better about fucking up your locker.”

She laughed nervously. “I mean, it’s really fine! You just looked so miserable for a second there, and I just thought…”

Great, he was moping so hard he had an audience.

The five minute warning bell rang, and a flood of students rushed past them on their way to fourth period. Brick stepped aside so the girl could get to her locker.

“Hey, you’re the new guy, right?”

The new guy, yeah. How quaint. Except, she was waiting for a response, which wasn’t the absolute worst thing that had happened to him all week.

“Brick,” he said. But of course, she already knew that, and she was just being nice.

“I’m Kim. Kim Chan.”

“Okay.” He didn’t have anything else to say to her, so he decided to get his shit and get to his next class.

“Welcome back to Townsville, Brick.”

Brick shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked off. It didn’t occur to him until later that Kim was the first and only person who had properly welcomed him back home.

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 12

Masterlist

Winding down from the frenzy of the last chapter... Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit​ for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤

Word Count: 5.9k

Recommended song: "I Don't Care" by Fall Out Boy

“Mon amour, wake up.”

Pierre’s sleep-heavy voice rouses you from the best sleep you’d had in a long time. You’d fallen asleep to the sounds of his even breathing under the soothing touch of his thumb tracing patterns on your side.

You crack your eyes open to see him silhouetted by the white light of the waning moon, his bare chest left uncovered by the blanket slung low over his hips. The sight alone has your mind instantly jumping into overdrive, fighting the need to sleep with the need to continue ogling the bare skin a foot from your face.

“I let you sleep as long as I could,” he says softly, reaching behind him for his phone. “We have to be on the M1 in about half an hour.”

“Mmmph,” you groan, snuggling back under the blanket and closer to him, chasing the warmth radiating from him. “The sun isn’t even out.”

His chuckle shakes the bed. “I figured you would say that which is why I made you breakfast and picked out your clothes. All you have to do is brush your teeth and get dressed.” 

You hum appreciatively and press a kiss to his bare sternum. “Is this how you’re going out today? Because I won’t complain but you might cause a few heart attacks.” A kiss to your temple is a small reward for your comment, as well as a concession.

"Don't worry, this is reserved only for you." He stretches an arm above his head, grinning when your eyes immediately are drawn to the way the muscles ripple and pull under his skin. You stare shamelessly as he flexes a little for your benefit, the action going straight to your head. 

"As it should be." You bite your lip and let your fingertips dance over his chest, memorizing the way it rises and falls so predictably with each deep breath. Against your better judgement you trail kisses up over his pectoral and spot them along his shoulder, dragging another light chuckle from him.

"My love," he warns, voice tinted with mischief, "we don't have time."

"Oh I think we do." You continue your path over his collarbone and to the hollow of his throat. Taking advantage of his biggest weakness, you flick your tongue over his prominent adam’s apple. The move has his hand engulfing your upper arm, giving you a warning squeeze.

"As wonderful as this is" -he sucks in a sharp breath when your teeth graze his neck- "if I'm late Horner will kill me."

"What's new?" You say, but draw back. The mere mention of his name made you see red and shattered the moment. "Do you really want to go back to Red Bull after how they treated you?"

"No," he admits, slipping an arm around you and tugging you up and into a sitting position, taking advantage of the momentary lapse of lust. "But if I want a shot with a top team when my contract is up, I don’t have much choice."

"Where do you see yourself going?"

Pierre studies you as you slip into the clothes he had selected for you. Nothing fancy, just an AlphaTauri branded navy and white hoodie and some light wash jeans. You don't miss the way his lips twitch upward when you notice it's his hoodie, his last name embroidered in block font on the cuff a dead giveaway even if the hoodie hadn't been ridiculously oversized on you.

Cheeky bastard.

"I think I would look good in sunshine yellow," he remarks. You make a show of looking him up and down under the pretense of imagining him in a Renault branded hoodie or their signature black race suit. Truthfully it was just another excuse to drink him in like the fine wine he was and recall how he had tasted on your tongue last night.

He would look good in any color on the grid but you don't grant him the satisfaction of pointing that out. Instead, you lean forward to toy with the waistband of the jeans he had hastily buttoned seconds earlier. "You and Daniel get along just fine." You snag him by the belt loops and yank him forward back onto the bed. "I think you should go to McLaren.”

“I’d still look good in orange.”

You wind your fingers under his waistband. “I think you’d look best wearing nothing at all, actually.”

“The time,” Pierre protests lightly when you pop open the button and undo the zipper. He groans when you yank the denim down around his thighs, finally submitting to your touch and lacing his fingers in your hair. Your lips explore the planes of his abdomen, any and all thoughts of speed abandoned on your end. "If you don't hurry up we're gonna be late."

"Maybe you'll just have to drive fast. I hear you’re good at that."

**********

"So how is it that they got your car all the way to London?"

"It's got its own private jet."

You roll your eyes and smack the hand resting on your thigh. His response is a light squeeze and a chuckle before he continues, "They've got a few spares they keep around for when drivers come to town. I can't be seen in a Mini or it would cause a scandal."

"Oh yes it would be quite tragic." His hand charts a dangerous path along your thigh. He knows exactly what he's doing as he slots a thumb between your legs and presses it tight to the apex of your thighs.

You snap your knees shut, effectively trapping his hand "Now you're just being cruel."

"Only dishing out what you did this morning," he points out and wiggles his hand free to rest on your knee instead. The message was clear: he had shaken you well enough for his liking and was perfectly content to leave you frustrated until he could get you home.

“So catch me up on what I’ve missed,” you say, determined to distract yourself from Pierre’s slight teasing. “What’s new in the life of the rising star in Formula 1?”

“Rising star,” Pierre mumbles and rolls his eyes. “Not yet, my love. Getting there, but not yet.”

“Please, you’re too modest. Last night when you fell asleep- you were out like a light as soon as your head hit the pillow, don't give me that look!” Pierre picks his jaw up off the floor and shakes his head as you continue, “I read plenty of articles that called you the next big thing, right up there with Max.”

The comparison didn't seem to sit right with him. He shifts in his seat, rolling words over on his tongue. “I’m sure you’re caught up then. I haven’t done anything really besides train and race.”

“I did notice you’ve beefed up a bit.”

“Yet another reason to thank Pyry.”

“At this point I should send him a fruit basket for his trouble.”

“Maybe you should.” Pierre grins, hand leaving your thigh for a split second to upshift. “What about you? How’s year four treating you?”

“Ugh, don’t get me started,” you groan. “My senior project is already killing me and I’ve only just started it. We have to design a building from the ground up- I mean I like architecture but I’m trying to be an engineer, not an architect. I dunno why I have to be the one to design a building! At this point it’s just a brick box.”

“Sounds challenging,” Pierre notes, flooring it when he merges onto the highway. Though the speed makes your stomach flip, you don’t miss a beat.

“My team doesn’t do much either, I’ve been doing most of it. I could rant for hours about it.”

Pierre glances at the clock, then back to you. The blue of his eyes is blocked by his signature purple tinted sunglasses, shielding them from the rising sun that casts him in a warm orange glow. “Humor me. We’ve got time.”

The hour and a half drive was by no means dull with Pierre's teasing touches and endless string of questioning along the way. He asked after every aspect of your life that had transpired in the last four months, only stopping you once in a while to interject with an opinion or anecdote.  He didn't stop at your life either, even asking after Ben's relationship. You'd been happy to report that he had indeed wooed his crush and had officially asked him to be his boyfriend.

"Those secret French lessons paid off," Pierre jokes as he pulls up to the imposing glass fronted building that served as Red Bull Racing's headquarters. The sweeping curve of the entrance was flanked on either side by two-story red and yellow bulls; proof that the team's dramatics extended far past the track. Anyone approaching for the first time would have been intimidated by the sheer size of them that suggested they were ready to stomp on their competition at a moment’s notice.

“Guess it’s time.” You sigh and undo your seatbelt and fiddle with the buckle, doing your best to stall. There was no reason to be this nervous. You were no one to these people; the focus would be entirely on Pierre. You would be an afterthought, not that you minded because it made it easier to fade into the background. 

Pierre picks up on your hesitation in a heartbeat. “I’ll keep them off your back,” he promises and you nod, the single sentence taking the edge off. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” You reach for the door handle but Pierre tsks and you pause.

"You know better." You bite your lip to keep back the grin fighting its way to the surface as he comes around to open your door. He offers you his hand and you gladly take it and are pleasantly surprised when he threads his fingers through yours and heads for the entrance.

The atrium serving as the lobby is breathtakingly gorgeous. You had to hand it to the interior designer; they knew what they were doing. Sleek white marble floors are accented by red and yellow leather chairs scattered in small groups throughout the grand space. A tiered circular modern interpretation of a chandelier hangs above to offer guidance to the accountants, engineers and artists that weave through the lobby on their way to their respective wings or offices.

A waist high, glass front cabinet of drivers helmets serves as the reception desk. The unmistakable scent of a fresh cup of coffee hits you as you approach and the secretary hands a steaming paper cup to someone before they scurry off, presumably to a private office if they were important enough to warrant special attention. The first rays of morning sunlight glint off the silver Red Bull logo inlaid in the black marble behind the woman at the counter, making you squint.

"Bonjour Monsieur Gasly," she says in perfect French. "Ça va?"

"Bien," he says simply and switches to English for your benefit. "Has Christian come through yet?"

"He has," the woman says, glancing sidelong at you. Whatever conclusions she draws about you are insignificant enough that she writes you off immediately, angling her body towards Pierre and resting her chin in her hand. The posturing puts her ample chest on display, nearly spilling out of her billowing blouse, but Pierre's eyes don't wander. "He's not expecting you yet. Voulez-vous un cafe?"

"I'm good." The woman may have been determined to alienate you but Pierre was having none of it. Pierre turns to you, a grin playing on his face. This was your first test as an official couple and he intended to see how you handled it. "How about you, my love? Coffee?"

The woman's eyes slip to where your hand remains clasped in his. She cocks her head so slightly you think you might be imagining it until Pierre's grip tightens, a silent encouragement. Your confidence soars. If this was how Daniel's girlfriend felt when the two of them were out, you finally understood why they didn't hide. It was a rush knowing that everyone wanted Pierre but he only wanted you. No matter how blatantly women threw themselves at him, there was no doubt in your mind that he would never give a single one of them the light of day.

It was about damn time you afforded him the same unwavering commitment as he had shown you.

"No thank you," you reply sweetly with a mocking smile directed to the woman. You lean in and drop your voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You might want to fix your shirt though, it’s… slipped. I know I'd hate for that to happen to me and no one tell me, especially at work. I don't think I'd ever recover from it."

Her face immediately turns scarlet as she stands straight and folds her arms over her chest. "If I were you-"

"Let Horner know I'm here," Pierre interrupts and it's somehow the hottest thing he's ever said. His purely commanding tone leaves no room for argument. 

"Of course," she replies with a sharp smile in your direction that makes your spine stiffen. "Good luck. Christian is in rare form this morning."

"Just ignore it," Pierre murmurs and sweeps his thumb over the back of your hand as he leads you across the cold marble and down a carpeted hall. "You handled that well.”

“I may have gotten a few pointers from Daniel’s lover.” Your soft smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. The short interaction had sapped most of your confidence, leaving you on uneven footing. “I would rather not have to deal with that again soon though.”

“I can handle the women easy enough when I know I’ve got you to come home to.”

The tightness in your chest eases further when the hall opens into another startlingly white space, this time packed with rows and rows of navy cubicles. But that's not where your attention is drawn- instead, your gaze is immediately snagged by the case of trophies towering high along the back wall. Cups of every shape and size shine within, each one representing a different podium for the team achieved in various years and tracks.

"There must be over a hundred," you breathe, mesmerized by the glinting silver and intricate craftsmanship. The case was easily thirty feet tall and you had to crane your neck to catch a glimpse of the ones in the top row. Each one told a story of blood, sweat and tears, each one earned by a driver who had made countless sacrifices to be where they were and finish on a podium.

"A hundred and eighty five to be exact," he counters, laughing at your amusement. "Your inner architect is screaming isn't it?"

"Only a little." 

Pierre laughs outright at your white lie and tugs you along. "You can stare on the way out. I'll even show you which ones were Max's."

"Did you memorize what all his trophies look like?"

"Hey, meetings with engineers get boring. It's one of the more interesting ways to occupy your time when they are going on and on about fluid mechanics and thermodynamics- you know, stuff you understand but not me."

"Oh whatever, you enjoy those meetings and you know it."

"Only a little," he quotes.

People recognize him as you pass and some nod or give a simple greeting as they go about their morning but no one stops him to chat. The air feels a bit hostile, like no one knows what to do with him now that he's walking through the building after a nearly two year absence.

"Do you miss it?" You ask after he smiles at someone for the millionth time. 

"I miss the team," he admits, "but not the management culture. My team was great- they supported me any way they could but it didn't help that Horner didn't exactly encourage them to believe in me. It's hard to crank out results when there's no one on your side."

"I'm on your side," you point out, nudging him with your hip. "You've got me forever, no takesies backsies."

"I'm grateful for it," he murmurs and gives your hand a squeeze. He hadn't let go once; not when he had to open a door or the two of you had to walk single file to let people pass.

The building was a labyrinth and if it wasn't for Pierre you'd have been lost the moment you set foot inside. He navigates the twisting halls with ease, having no need for the countless signs posted along the way.

He leads you up a set of steel stairs after what seems like ages. When he knocks on a heavy oak door, his grip on your hand turns possessive like he suspects the office’s occupant would try to rip you away from him. 

“Morning.”

God, even the one word makes rage simmer in your veins. The voice precedes the man and Christian Horner swings open the door, a plastic smile splitting his face. He doesn't bother acknowledging you with a greeting, instead addressing his driver directly.

“I wasn’t expecting you to bring a guest.”

“A pretty face was needed around here,” Pierre snaps back without missing a beat. You bristle, free hand curling into a fist. If there was one person you didn’t mind teaching a lesson to, it was Horner. He had little respect for anyone he viewed as disposable- up to and including “underperforming” drivers.

Christian raises an eyebrow. “Sure. She can wait out here- you and I have terms to discuss.”

Fine, Horner wanted to play dirty? So could you. When it came to staring him down, you became fearless. He was the one person you refused to let intimidate you.  

Drawing on your newly minted confidence you smile up at Pierre and silence the protest forming on his tongue with a grin. “Gimme a kiss, race winner.”

Pierre doesn’t hesitate to press his lips to yours. Cupping a hand to the back of his neck you draw him in and nip at his lower lip. The hand on your hip tightens at Christian's scoff but Pierre makes no move to break away. You linger a moment longer than necessary to drive your point home: you didn’t care what Horner had to say about you, you were here to stay and he would have to get used to it.

Pierre gives you a small, blissed out smile before dropping your hand and following Horner inside. The door clicks but doesn't shut all the way, Pierre leaving it cracked for your benefit.

Uninterested in eavesdropping on small talk, you lean on the metal railing to observe the research and development garage coming to life on the floor below. Hybrid engines in various stages of disassembly dot the space, small teams of mechanics and engineers tweaking components to reduce weight or increase horsepower. Pistons and valves are scrutinized and exchanged before being placed under stress to test their strength.

An FIA official in a red jacket wove through the garage to observe and jot notes down on a clipboard. He looks over the shoulder of an engineer pouring over formulas on a whiteboard, startling him when the official asks a question. Someone calls your name from below and you search for the origin, finally spotting the woman and waving back at her.

Management may have their qualms with Pierre but it was clear there were still some within the team that had his back. They were likely the same ones that knew he would have to leave the Red Bull umbrella to find any semblance of success. They may not have possessed the guts to stick their necks out for him when Horner had cut him but they were at least happy to see him back around headquarters.

"You sure you'll rise to the challenge?" Horner's question drags you back to the mezzanine. 

"I'll take seventh. I'm only a few points away and we have plenty of races left."

He had five races to catch up to be exact. Pierre currently was comfortably ahead of the pack in ninth, Sainz was only three points ahead in eighth, and Norris ten points beyond in seventh. It would only take a DNF or two from his rivals and a few podiums to pass them up.

"Right," Horner starts. "There's a reason you've done so well this season and it's not luck. You've been racing exceptionally well and I don't want that to change."

"If there's something on your mind just get on with it." Pierre's voice is calm and collected in a way yours wouldn't be if you had been in his shoes. You've been dying to rip into Horner since the day he wrote Pierre off.

"There's been a fire in you the past few months since she has been gone-"

"Leave her out of this."

The tone sends a chill down your spine. It maintains the same level headedness that Pierre had perfected over the years and you had come to expect when he was backed against a wall, but it was laced with an unspoken threat. The intent was clear: he would walk out and abandon his chance for a seat at Red Bull if it meant protecting you.

You creep to the door to peer through the crack. Horner crosses his arms, a sly smile on his face. "You would sacrifice your chance at a championship winning seat for her? Everything you've worked so hard for, gone in a flash, because of her?"

"Without question," Pierre answers immediately. The conviction and commitment behind it nearly makes you stumble. "I'm sure there's plenty of other teams that would love to have me after the season I've had. She’s not going anywhere, so either you stop disrespecting her or I walk out."

You clench your fists, ready to burst in and demand Pierre stop being a fucking idiot. His long term plan saw him at another top team that would take care of him and nurture his skill- a long stint at Red Bull Racing was never in the cards. It wasn't an environment for everyone. Some people like Max thrived in it, letting the toxicity roll off their backs but for Pierre it was a cruel form of punishment. However, a seat at Red Bull for the 2022 season could mean the difference between an offer from Alpine and an offer from Haas when his contract was up for renewal. 

The idea of seeing his number stickered to the floor in a Red Bull garage excites and intimidates you. Last time he hadn't been given the chance to prove himself. Would they still hold that against him? Knowing Christian, he probably would. On the other hand, it meant that they admitted their mistake in cutting him mid-season, whether they said it outright or not.

Pierre's redemption day was on the horizon and you couldn't wait to see the look on Horner's face when he finally won. And the longer Christian stays silent, the more potent the urge to throttle him grows. 

Christian gives a slow clap. "Now there's the unwavering commitment that was missing during round one."

Your heart hammers in the dead silence as papers are shuffled. "Here's the contract. Terms are as discussed, you secure seventh in the world championship in 2021 and the second seat at Red Bull Racing is yours for the entire calendar in 2022. No demotions, substitutions, or shuffling of drivers unless medically necessary or mutually agreed upon by all affected parties."

"And the same spec car as the number one seat," Pierre insists, spine straight. "Same strategy." 

Christian waves a hand. "Yes, that's in there too. Feel free to take a moment and read it over."

He does, allowing Christian time to pour a knuckle of whiskey and set the glass before Pierre. He pours himself an identical glass and waits until Pierre signs and initials all the boxes before raising it in acknowledgement.

"Congratulations. Welcome back to Red Bull- conditionally."

Pierre leaves the glass untouched and remains silent, staring his potential future team principal down. He gives the man no margin to question his abilities further, conveying all he needs to with a look that would have had you shaking at the knees. Even if you can't see his face, wrath radiates from him in waves and you wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of it when it explodes.

"Right then." Christian lowers the glass, his fake smile vanishing. "I look forward to seeing what you can do."

"Don't worry. I'll deliver."

You step back and allow him to set the mood as he exits the office and slams the door behind him. Pierre sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. "You heard all of that right?"

You nod. "You wouldn't have really walked out, right?"

"I almost did."

He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Like you should know that he would choose you over all of this, that all of his dreams and everything he had sacrificed to achieve them thus far meant less to him than you did. How many times did he have to prove his unwavering commitment before you realized it was true?

Pierre laces his fingers through yours, the heat welcomed by your ice cold skin. It was as much a comfort to you as it was to him. "I just have to grab some things from Max's office and then we can head out."

His jaw is still set after his stand off with Christian and you want nothing more than to ease his mind. Publicly comforting him with a touch to his chest or a kiss to his neck was out of the question so you settle on temporary distraction.

"Hey, you know what I want to see?"

"What's that?"

"That room full of all the old chassis. You know, the one that they hold all the fancy virtual events in? I wanna see those."

"I think I should be able to get you back there." He veers down a hall and you yelp, pulled along by his momentum. His attitude brightens a little at your laugh. The grin he throws your way is your own personal sun, warming your soul. 

"Hey- hold on." You pull him to a stop and lead him into an alcove. The inch of space between your chests is charged with electricity, begging to jump from one to the other.

"Can I help you?" He asks and grins down at you.

"No," you say nonchalantly. "Just wanted to be selfish for a second."

You rise up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. He melts into you, one hand coming up to cup your jaw while the other finds the small of your back. You side your tongue over his lower lip and he presses you against the door leading to who knew where and opens his mouth to you. You sigh into the kiss, arms winding around his neck and losing yourself in him.

Now that you had gotten over your anxiety, everything was so much easier. You know there's press roaming about the building and any number of them could pass by at any moment but you genuinely couldn't care less. Let them talk; you were over caring what anyone thought or said.

All that mattered was the man beneath your fingertips. You would endure a lifetime of insults if he was the one to soothe the wounds afterwards. As long as you both were happy, no one could come between you ever again.

Pierre pulls away when someone passes by and coughs quietly.  "You're trouble," he murmurs, leaving an arm propped next to your head and effectively caging you in.

"And you're dangerous," you tease, tugging on his hair and exposing his throat enough to nip at it once. "Together we're the perfect pair."

He groans and leans away. "Keep that up and I might have to stay in London an extra week."

You slip out of his grasp and give him an unrestrained grin. "Don't threaten me with a good time." You spin on your heel and set off down the hall, swaying your hips a little more than necessary.

"You know where you're going?" He calls after you.

"Someone will point me in the right direction, I'm sure."

"Someone like me." He catches up to you and once again takes your hand in his. He was enjoying showing you off almost as much as you enjoyed hanging on him.

"Maybe we should head right to Max's office and hurry home, huh?"

"Maybe-"

"Pierre, there you are."

You both turn to a woman hustling up the hall after you. She’s slight and her brown curls bounce as she jogs to where the two of you pause at a bend. You glance up to Pierre to see if he's just as confused as you are.

"Hey Mary," he says cheerily. "How are you? Sorry I didn't check in with you when I got here."

"Oh it's fine- why aren't you in the Alpha samples I sent?” The woman props a fist on her hip and tips her head to the side. “I think I got your size right now that I’ve laid eyes on you. I was hoping for a shoot today since you've finally come by."

It takes you a moment to register that she's addressing you. You shoot Pierre a look and he offers you a tentative, closed off smile. "Um, what Alpha gear?"

The woman's chocolate brown eyes go wide. "The ones I've been sending to Pierre. Hoodies, dresses, jackets. All the stuff from the new line. They have been sending the samples to you, right?"

"Um, yeah I've gotten them," Pierre says, rubbing his neck. "I haven't given them to her though."

"Oh, I see!” Pink tinges Mary’s cheeks. “I must have missed a memo. I just thought that you'd want to do a shoot with her today, since we already had a quick one planned for you. After all, you talk about her all the time."

"He does?"

Mary nods. "Oh yes, we've all heard plenty about you. You're lucky to have someone so enamored with you. I just dropped off some more samples in Max's office as a little thank you for letting us steal him so often-"

"Okay, thank you Mary," Pierre says abruptly. "I'll get back to you on that."

Pierre steers you away and down the hall. "What was she talking about? Why would they want me to come by for a photo shoot?"

Pierre runs a hand through his hair and pauses outside Max's office. The Dutchman must have been away because Pierre pulls out his key and fits it in the lock. "I just- come on."

He waves you inside and you obey, letting him close the door and grant you some semblance of privacy before continuing. 

"I never formally told anyone that we broke up. Most people came to their own conclusions once they didn't see you around for a while. Some people didn't get the message. Obviously Mary was one of them. I would still talk about you, I couldn't help myself. There was one shoot where Yuki and I were together and he mentioned off hand that you'd be a good brand ambassador. I tried to explain that it wouldn't work but Mary wouldn't hear it and she just kept sending me more and more samples.”

You draw a breath and interrupt his rambling. “But where-”

"I had it all in a box in my office but I struggled to concentrate with a reminder of you hanging over my head. I sent it over here to Max and that's where it's sat ever since. I used the excuse that Max was in town more often than I was and no one read too far into it."

"Why didn't you tell me?" You whisper. "I would've taken them. I'm sure you got an earful from Mary."

"Would you have?” Pierre pauses, your silence in the face of his frustration speaking volumes. “I waited four months to hear from you. Tell me that sending you thousands of dollars in unreleased merch wouldn't have made you even more hesitant to come back to me."

Not knowing what else to say, you let your gaze fall to the carpet. Sending you expensive things would have felt something like a bribe, like he was trying to influence you with fancy clothes.

Pierre shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter, it’s in the past now. We can take it home today and you can wear it when I take you for dinner and Alpha will get the press they’re after. Everyone will be happy.”

He wasn’t happy. That much was plain to see. He hadn’t been able to stomach seeing something intended for you, even that minute of a reminder had been too much for him to bear. God, you had thoroughly wrecked him. You were lucky that there were still enough pieces of him left to heal. 

“I didn’t realize you were hurting so bad,” you say, voice barely above a whisper as you cross the cramped space to him, stepping over piles of strewn paperwork carefully so as to not disturb whatever random order they were placed in. You don’t dare reach out to touch him as his shoulders slump, any and all forward momentum he’d gathered suddenly sapped.

“It’s one of the worst things I’ve ever gone through.”

Unable to let him suffer alone with his thoughts, you wrap your arms around his middle and let your cheek rest between his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to alienate you. I was waiting for you, too.”

“You needed space and I gave it to you.” His hand rests on your arm with a gentleness you’ve come to expect when he lays himself bare like this. “There were so many times I almost gave in to the impulse and just messaged you but I made myself wait. I didn’t want to rush it and make things worse. You always need time to think things through- I knew you would come around eventually. It didn’t make it any easier though.”

You rub soothing circles on his side as you blink back the tears that spring to your eyes. “I’m sorry I put you through that. I’m sorry I took so long and I’m sorry I made you wait. It had to have been torture-”

He turns in your embrace and cups your chin, forcing you to look up at him. The pad of his thumb sweeps across your cheek, the metal of the ring on his middle finger biting into your flushed skin. “It’s alright. You had a lot to sort through and I had to respect that.”

“We lost so much time-”

“Hey,” he says softly, ducking his head to meet your eyes. “We’re together now. If there’s one thing I’m sure of it’s that you can’t let missed opportunities control you or else you’ll never be happy.”

You nod, swiping your sleeve under your eyes. “What did they send?” you ask, nodding towards the box overflowing with tan and navy threads.

“Pull up a chair,” Pierre suggests, “there’s a lot.”

You roll over Max’s desk chair and tug on Pierre’s arm. Once he gets the picture and sits, you settle in his lap. He winds an arm around your middle, the close contact already soothing your frazzled nerves.

“That better?” he murmurs.

“Much better.”

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @ricciartodododo​

If you have asked to be tagged in the past and I missed you I apologize! Just comment below and I’ll get you added for future updates. Thanks for reading ❤

[sailorhyunjinz]

~ 𝕋𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕡𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 ~

Part III

© sailorhyunjinz 2021; Rights Reserved

All picture rights to their respective owners.

ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥: Photographer!Hyunjin x fem!model!reader, manager!Bangchan, stylist!Jisung, agedup!straykids, SMUT, fluff, character driven story, stranger to lovers, summer!au, soft!dom hyunjin x fem!reader, PIV, penetrative sex, protected sex (wow first time writing that, good on ya cher) sexual photos/pictures taken during sex, semi-public sex, orgasm (m/f), cum, fingering, blowjob, light choking, praise kink, handkink??

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 5.4 k

ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖: am so creative with the office numbers? right? tell me im creative LMAO

oh god this was a fucking pain in the ass to read through i cringed at every sentence so hopefully my pain will be your pleasure

Taking pictures of you - MASTERLIST

ONE｜TWO｜THREE

Unlike any other day you couldn’t get out of bed. A boulder of nervousness plaguing you. Through the cracks of the blinds the sun shined in, small particles of dust floating around your resting figure. You were wide awake yet you felt asleep, your thoughts consuming your mind as the dimly lit room became brighter as time ticked on.

You were thinking, perhaps overthinking. This whole situation with Hyunjin seemed confusing and happened way to fast, your psyche not having a moment to digest the events that unfolded during the last couple of days.

Love was a feeling you were familiar with. You knew how it felt. Those butterflies in ones stomach, fluttering everytime a thought of the person passes through your ones.

You felt the same feeling everytime you thought of Hyunjin.

How his soft lips would feel against your cheek that was hot from just looking at his beauty. How his blond hair falls in his face everytime he puts it into a ponytail, his silver decorated fingers tucking the stray pieces behind his pierced ear. These thoughts alone would make your heart beat faster than ever, you eyes clouding with lust even if you knew that this relationship would be impossible given the status the both of you have in this judging industry.

Pushing the covers aside, you sat up before slowly stepping out, your feet hitting the cold flooring of the apartment. You stretched your arms upwards, feeling your spine extend as you squinted, a ray of sunshine hitting you right in the eyes.

The boulder in your chest didn’t feel any lighter but you still got up, wanting time to fly by fast just so you could see his face once again.

♡

No amount of mindfulness exercises could calm the churning of your stomach. The clock in your living room ticked as you watched it with careful eyes, waiting for the time to hit precisely half past before you got up from the couch and shuffled over to the wardrobe, only being stopped from a pling on your phone.

[Bangchan] y/n! can you come by in about an hour? need to discuss some concept photos, sorry for such short notice ❤️

That’s when it hit you. Bangchan didn’t know anything about this. He didn’t know that you’d seen the photos from the shoot and most importantly that you went on a date with the photographer. You could only describe the feeling as ‘improper’. Bangchan was after all one of the closest people in your life, he made you to who you are today and lying to him felt wrong but you shielded your eyes from the truth as you typed back.

[y/n] soz, got plans

[Bangchan] I don’t see any other meeting scheduled for today?

[y/n] you do know that I have a life outside of work? take the day off Chan, you could use some rest ❤️

[Bangchan] Don’t worry about me! You have fun alright?

[y/n] alright, see you next week then ^^

You clicked on the off button on your phone, making the text messages disappear. Getting paranoid, you plopped down on the couch, thinking about every possible way you could get caught which you’d already been, photos of you and Hyunjin circulating throughout social media but they mustn’t have reached Bangchan just yet. You felt like digging a hole underground, wanting to hide away from all these thoughts. The main thought in your mind was whether or not you understood Hyunjin’s intentions. 

What if this love was one sided? 

Waveing your hand in the air, you attempted to get the mind out of your head as if you were breaking up a cloud of real thoughts. You glanced up at the clock and only then realised that you were running late, as usual.

“Wear whatever you want”

Was what Hyunjin said last time but that didn’t make it easier to choose an outfit. Standing infront of multiple racks of clothing you pulled up the weather application on your phone. “Sunny” you mumbled, making you gravitate towards a beige croptop with white stripes around the neckline as well as a white tennis skirt. Not too dressed up but not too dressed down either, just right. Clothes were flying everywhere when you searched for a pair of white socks to pair with your white high platform sneakers. You put the outfit on, observing yourself in the mirror and smiling, trying to get yourself in a better mood rather than being a nervous wreck. Pulling up your phone, you snapped a picture and sent it to the person who knew best about fashion. Jisung.

[y/n] Sungie! Is this acceptable for a impromptu photoshoot?

The fashionable boy replied minutes later.

[Jisung] oh!! that’s so cute! very much acceptable in my book 🥺

You smiled at his reply

[y/n] phew! good... 

[Jisung] is it a date?

Your fingers froze above the keyboard on the phone. Was it that noticeable? Was this really a date? 

[y/n] no!!!

[Jisung] you sure, i saw those photos on social media. ahh.. y/n dating famous photographers now...

By this point you were sweating bullets. 

[y/n] first of all, i’m not meeting him and second of all, he’s a friend so shut it. 

[Jisung] hahah alright alright... i won’t tell Bangchan

[y/n] you have nothing to tell!! we’re friends just like you and I so be quiet otherwise i’ll come over there with balloons, popping them in your face.

[Jisung] oh wow... im so scared...

[y/n] need to leave, if i hear something about you spreading some rumors i’ll seriously do it.

[Jisung] Photo Attachment.

The photo that popped up was from yesterday and your breath hitched. You couldn’t help but to notice the way Hyunjin was looking at you, his eyes filled what seemed like adoration. 

[Jisung] yeah because that totally doesn’t look like a date

[y/n] DON’T TELL BANGCHAN PLEASE

[Jisung] oh so it is a date? alright, i won’t! have fun and be safe

[y/n] be safe? we’re taking pictures, not drag racing

[Jisung] hahah stop playing innocent

Your eyes widened in realisation.

[y/n] you crazy fucker

[y/n] I WILL DESTROY YOUR ENTIRE WARDROBE IF YOU DON’T SHUT UP I DON’T SLEEP ON THE FIRST DATE

[Jisung] Whatever you say

Thanks to Jisung you were now running dangerously late leading to you snatching objects from all corners of the apartment before ordering a cab that would arrive in minutes.

♡

“We’ve arrived, miss” the cab driver says, smiling at you through the rear-view mirror. You thank him and step out of the yellow car, a smell of car exhaust hitting your nose. The cab drives away, leaving nothing but a small cloud of smoke. You looked up, almost not seeing the tip of the building as the skyscraper towered over you. You’re beside the busy road, mouth agape. You’d walked by a couple of times but knowing that you knew the person that owned at least a bit of the building made you giddy. 

You walked in and was greeted by a grand lobby, a front desk as big as the wall behind it. The entire place was filled with people, everyone from business men in suits to trainee models in the most flamboyant outfits. Fishnet stockings, heavy chains and distressed jeans that consisted of more air then jeans material. The sun shined through the many glass panes that made up most of the ceiling and the slight breeze of the air conditioner made this whole vibe of the building comforting. 

“Hi! y/n y/l/n, meeting Hwang Hyunjin” you say to the receptionist that was a relatively old woman, probably in her early 60′s. She was wearing a white button down shirt with her hair in a high bun, a couple of gray strands sticking out. Her red painted mouth contorted into a smile. 

“y/n, Hyunjin said that you could make your way to his office without the guards. You must be a close friend” 

You smiled shyly with your warm cheeks, looking at either side of the desk where two tall buff men were standing, wearing walkie talkies on their black vests. With a small nod, you started speaking. 

“W-where exactly is his office?”

“Floor 20, his main office is in room 03″

“Thank you!” 

You quickly shuffled over to the elevators, pushing the button that lit up with orange light emitting. 

PLING

The doors to the elevator opened and you stepped inside, a couple of office workers joining you and pressing the necessary buttons to make the elevator lift off. 

You step out at the 20th floor, looking around at all the intricate wall design, everything inspired by ancient greece which explains the broken vases that were scattered across the hallway in the most unconventional places. They were all encapsulated with glass and standing on tall white pillars, the vases looking rather sad, being in a spectra of ashy grey colors, every single one of them falling apart. 

Stopping, you observed this one vase that caught your attention. It had swirly details around the edge and was shattered in a rather beautiful way. It made you think how even the most broken pieces still carry beauty, beauty unique to only oneself. 

“It’s pretty right?”

The voice sounded familiar and warm, almost as if it had anticipated your arrival. 

“y-yeah, it really is” 

You say turning around, nearly jumping up on the wall when seeing the figure that looked back at you. It was Hyunjin.

Yet again, his presence was astonishing. Everytime you met him it felt as if you’d met him for the first time. The blond boy was standing tall in front of you, wearing a black hoodie, black basketball shorts and a matching headband. A backpack was thrown across his one shoulder and a smaller camera around his neck, everything about his appearence looking completely different from the last time you saw him, his style usually more sophisticated. 

“On your way to meet me, yeah?” he asked and you nodded shyly. 

“My office is the other way, you know?”

You lifted your gaze to look at the tiny sign on the wall that pointed in two directions, you were walking down the hallway for offices 20-40 by accident and you smiled awkwardly, scratching the back of your head. 

“I didn’t know heh...” 

“It’s alright! Come with me, I was on my way to the studio”

“What room is that? Your office?”

“No, the room next to my office, come! I’ll show you!”

He grabbed your hand and you felt your body stiffen as he dragged you down the hallway, his hand not being decorated with statement rings this time, instead feeling soft and warm. You blanked out, your legs walking by themselves. 

He stopped at a brown door, a tiny gold sign saying « 04 » and beside it a transparent sign stating that this was a photography studio. Hyunjin opened the door and dragged you in, closing the door behind you.

A cold wind hit your warm body, the air conditioner blasting it’s breeze with a faint sound. The room was wide, one wall being made completely out of glass, stand close enough and you could peer down the bustling city filled with people, cars and buildings. The typical photoshoot setup was already in place, the camera being propped up infront of a white backdrop, a white pilar in the middle and two boxlights standing unlit behind the camera. In the corner stood a vintage brown leather couch, the swirly metal details were concealed with a layer of chipped gold paint. Beside the couch stood a simple white table. A black bucket rested on the floor and upon closer inspection you noticed plants, multiple stems of eucalyptus poking out, wrapped in cellophane.

“What are these for?” 

You sat down on your knees infront of the bucket while Hyunjin was pressing buttons on the camera that was screwed onto the tripod before walking over to the table and placing down the camera he had around his neck, his backpack lying lazily on the floor. He looked at your crouching figure, the corners of his lips going upwards.

“I thought they’d suit you”

You held in one of the stems, turning your head and looking at his shy smile, his dimples sitting playfully on the sides of his cheeks. You giggle, standing up and leaning against the white pillar, holding the plant in your both hands. 

“Do they?”

Hyunjin walked towards the steadied camera, bending down and peeking through the lens.

“They do”

click

Your eyes widen, him snapping a picture without you paying attention.

“Hey! I wasn’t even prepared!” you chuckle, pointing at the blonde boy with the long plant that was dripping at the stem. 

“Nature is a bit more beautiful when caught off guard, don’t you think?” Hyunjin says, his honey-like voice, echoing through the room.

You nod, staring down at the leafs of the plant, rubbing them between your thumb and pointer finger. 

click

click 

click

“Try leaning with your butt against the pillar and with one foot fully on the side of the pillar”

You did as he told, the pillar being surprisingly stable.

“Tilt your head and look down to the right”

Once again, you follow his instruction and he hums in satisfaction before pushing the button on the camera twice.

click

click

Your warm face turned into a smile, laughing loudly from embarrassment when he observed the pictures on his display. He snickers quietly from shyness, a faint blush brushing across his features as his brown eyes were glued to the screen. Hyunjin peeks up from the camera, seeing you looking down at the backdrop that was filled with ashy grey shoeprints. 

The sound of his footsteps got closer until you saw them in your periferal view causing you to look up at his tentative face. He smiles, displaying his pearly white teeth and crescent shaped eyes before stretching his hand out, feather light fingertips grazing your hot cheek as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, your dainty gold earrings now visible. Hyunjin’s hand lingers on your jaw as he looks at you with a gleam in his eyes, you gulping loudly as your gaze lowers to his pouty pink lips. Leaning forward, Hyunjin tilts his head, attaching his lips onto yours, your heart skipping a beat from the comforting feeling of having him close to you. 

You drop the fragile twig on the floor, kissing him back by pursing your lips and tilting your head as well. The romantic tension that has been bubbling on the surface everytime you met had finally subsided, now the air overflowed sexual tension. 

Cupping his blushed cheeks, you deepen the kiss my licking his plump bottom lip, coaxing his tongue that eventually slipped into your mouth. His hands were firmly planted on your waist, pulling you closer to his body that radiated heat in the already scorching summer weather. 

The two tongues danced around in a impatient manner, the two of you dreaming of this moment since meeting. Hyunjin’s hands roamed over all the valleys of your body, placing his hands on the bottom of your butt, pulling you even closer, close enough to feel his semi-erection against your abdomen. Your eyes spring open in realisation, your body melting in his arms as you felt the effects of the deep kiss, the effects being you unable to control the wet patch that was forming on your underwear, nothing but the thin fabric seperating it from the air due to you wearing a skirt. 

Pulling away from the kiss, your hot breath and a line of saliva was the only thing that seperated you and Hyunjin. You shielded your face from his twinkling eyes, you glancing at the blonde boy through the gaps between your fingers. His two hands grip your wrists, pulling your hands down as he smiles widely

“Don’t hide that pretty face”

Hyunjin giggles, your chuckles following shortly after. The boy grips your wrist tightly, walking backwards as he looks intensely into your eyes, his back falling against the couch as you sit down on the couch on your knees, he looks at you for a moment before attaching his lips again, pushing you down and hovering above you. The wet sounds of the sloppy kiss fills your ear, you helplessly rubbed your thighs together in anticipation. His fingertips trailed down your chest, tracing small circles on the inside of your thigh before plunging down under your skirt, grazing the wet spot on your underwear. The both of you smile into the kiss. 

“Can I?” Hyunjin says, momentarily pulling away from your sweet lips and tugging on the edge of your panties. You nod shyly, not believing that this is happening. 

His lanky fingers run up and down your wet folds as you put your hand at the back of his neck, pulling his blushing face closer to yours and pursing your lips to kiss him sensually. Hyunjin’s fingers gently brush up against your clit that was swollen from excitement, sending shivers down your spine. 

You knew this was wrong, the door wasn’t even locked meaning that anyone could walk in at any moment but the way lips felt on yours made a thousand fireworks ignite, sparking from your chest. Wrapping your hand around his wide wrist, you guide his fingers down to your sopping entrace, your entire body craving him inside of you.

Hyunjin places once last peck on your soft lips before looking at you with concern, asking for permission with his fluffy brown eyes. You nod, your eyelashes gently fluttering over your eyes. His middle finger slips into you with ease, shortly followed by a second finger from seeing how good your cunt swallowed his digits, your essence coating them. A faint gasp escapes your lips as his fingers felt around your velvety walls, the whole situation still feeling like a dream. 

“D-does it feel good?” 

“mhm!” you hum, nodding your head as your grasp around his wrist tightens everytime he curls his fingers upwards. Small whimpers came from you as his fingers started pumping in and out, the blond boy chuckling at your reaction. 

“Did you think I was innocent?” 

The question lingers in the air as you look at him in the eyes.

“Y-yes,,,” just as the question you let the answer hang in the air as Hyunjin hummed, being knuckles deep into you and curling his fingers upwards once more, making you choke on your own moan. Hyunjin nodded slowly, glancing down at your body as he thought.

“It’s because,,, because you’re shy,, different from the others.” You added quickly, filling the silence that was soon interupted by your whimpers as the so called ‘innocent boy’ started circling your sensitive bud with his thumb. 

“I think you’re different from the others, you make me like this baby”

Hyunjin said, seconds later crashing his lips against yours, his tongue attacking yours. He retracted his fingers, the tips coated in your juices and glistening in the sunlight. You whined inbetween kisses, the feeling of being empty leaving you disappointed. Hyunjin’s veiny hands trailed up your stomach, pulling the croptop up and resting it just above your boobs, your white bra exposed. 

Hyunjin pulled away from the kiss, the both of you breathless as the kisses you exchanged were anything but light. His two damp fingers made their way to his mouth, licking them with a slight smirk on his lips. You could go crazy from the sight alone, his big brown eyes turning blank with lust. Not being able to control yourself any longer, you sat up on your knees and pulled off the top, unclasping your bra while you’re at it. As the fabric hit the floor, Hyunjin’s eyes darted to your bare tits, the wind from the air conditioner stiffening your two sensitive buds. You looked at him with a jumbled expression, him staring at your nipples for what seemed like an eternity. You hummed softly, causing him to snap back into reality, the blond boy pulling the black hoodie up from his head, displaying the defined muscles on his abdomen. You wanted him, you wanted him so bad. 

Your knees hit the floor with a thump as looked up at Hyunjin, knealing between his two legs and watching the tent in his loose shorts grow. 

“Do you really want to do this,, y/n,, you don’t have t-”

You hushed before speaking.

“Don’t worry, Hyunjin” you say with a stern voice making Hyunjin shiver, not knowing if it’s from your tone of voice or the way his name rolled of your tongue.

The blonde boy grabbed the small camera that was resting on the table, you looked up at him with confusion before smiling at his pleading eyes that met yours. You nodded, knowing exactly what he wanted to do and giving him permission since you never knew if he’d get to see you like this ever again. 

You hook your two hands on the sides of his shorts and underwear, pulling the fabric down as Hyunjin awkwardly lifts his hips up from the couch for a moment, allowing you to slide the both garments down in one nimble motion. His veiny length sprung out, the tip hitting his abdomen for a moment before resting infront of your eyes, a bead of precum already leaking from his delicate slit. You gulp, the task of sucking him off suddenly seeming daunting. Hyunjin must have noticed since his face turned concerned, a half smile flashing across his lips. 

“y/n,, you don’t have to-aghh!”

Hyunjin was cut of by his own breathy moan, your pursed lips wrapping around his leaking tip, licking small kitten licks before sinking deeper down his impressive length. Hyunjin’s blonde hair fell out of his face when his head rolled back in pleasure, resting it against the back of the rustic couch. 

“f-fuck y/n,,, just- just like that”

He hummed out, his sweet voice intoxicated with desire. Your tongue swirled around his pretty red tip, simultaneously stroking the part doesn’t fit inside of your wet mouth. Multiple shutters of the camera was heard, his hand barely stable enough to hold it due to the pleasure that was shooting through his core. It didn’t take long before his dick twitched against you lips, your cheeks hollowed as bob up and down his girth. His eyes rolled back into his skull as his hand went down to cup your cheek, your eyes stinging with tears as you choked around him. Pulling off with a pop, his dick glimmered as a heavy layer of saliva rested on it, his already warm body turning hotter. He looks down at you, a smug half-smile errupting on his lips as he continued to stroke your cheek, his thumb grazing your cheekbone as he flicked through the photos on his camera, the half-smile now a full on expression of happiness. The two of you sat like that for a while, the silence engulfing the room as you observed his indescribable features. His sharp jawline contrasted with his soft skin that had a dust of rose pink across the cheeks, his moles adding to his charm. 

“Fuck me, Hyunjin”

The words slipped out of your mouth, his brown shiny eyes widening before being overtaken by a blank gaze, placing the silver camera back on the tiny table. 

“You thought I would stop here?”

Now it was your turn to be flustered, his sugary sweet voice interlaced with the cocky words making you even wetter then before, if that’s even possible. Without answering, he pulled you up to the couch by your hand and laying you down before realising what he forgot. The blond boy reached for the baggy backpack laying on the white floor, unzipping the front pocket and fishing out a condom. You nodded shyly, feeling your hands getting sweatier from nervousness, not really sure where to put them. Hyunjin noticed your gaze that was running all over the room, your body slightly tense. The boy snickered, ripping the shiny wrapping open with his hands where veins had started to become apparent. 

“Something wrong?” He asks shyly, placing the condom on his leaking tip before rolling the rubber onto his length. You shake your head.

“J-just thinking,,,” you say, your voice fading out at the end. 

“About?” His voice inhibiting a questionable tone as he holds himself up above you, his elbows on either side of your head. 

“A-about,,, you” 

That was a lie. You thought about how this would end up being disclosed to your company and your friends, Felix would snap your head if he found out that you slept with Hyunjin. Did it even have to be disclosed? Couldn’t it just be a secret between you and Hyunjin? As much as you wish that it could, it simply couldn’t. Not working in this industry. 

Hyunjin smiled softly, his hand trailing down the curves of your body before lifting up the fabric of your skirt, his fingers pushing your panties aside and feeling your throbbing pussy once again. His caramel eyes looked into you the entire time. 

Lifting himself up, he positioned the tip of his member at your sopping entrance, you chuckling softly as he gripped your hips but your chuckle was quickly replaced by a loud gasp, his dick stretching out your tight pussy better than you thought. 

“Are you ok, y/n?” 

He said softly, his dick not even halfway in but already jerking from your welcomingly wet and warm cunt wrapping around his crimson tip. You nodded, looking up at him. 

“Pl-please,, keep going Hyunjin”

The blonde boy blushed, his ears turning red. Tightening the grip on your hips he fully entered you, you shutting your eyes tightly from the slightly painful but pleasurable experience. Glancing down at you, he had to use every bit of discipline to not pound into you. In his eyes you looked angelic. Your parted lips that we’re coated by saliva and the way your skirt bunched up around your waist made it feel like torture to be inside of you, not moving to let you adjust to his size. 

“C-can I move?” He asks impatiently to which you smile, nodding and wrapping your legs around him, pulling him closer to your warm body. Your breath hitched as he softly wraps his hand around your neck, him thinking he’d gone too far.

“I-im sorry! I-” 

You hush him, placing your index finger over his plush pink lips. 

“I’ll tell you if anything doesn’t feel good, alright?” You so desperatly wanted to place a “baby” at the end of the sentence, that nickname fitted him but being to scared to confess your feelings. Just because he wants you doesnt mean he loves you. Hyunjin nodded like an excited puppy, finally getting the permission of moving and feeling your clenched walls around his length, his one hand still wrapped around your throat. 

His thrusts were slow, filled with passion which only worsened your longing for him, the longing of him being yours. Small whimpers dripped from between your parted lips, the moans being mixed with Hyunjin’s low grunts and sounding like a melody. You peeked up at the model-like boy, his expression being synonymous to pleasure. The movements eventually quickened, his long cock hitting your cervix with every thrust, making you put your hands behind his back, your fingernails digging into his soft honey skin. His previously closed eyes fluttered open, watching you with a soft gaze through his fierce eyes. You smiled and he smiled back before his gaze drifted away from yours.

“Y-you feel so good y-y/n,,, you’re an angel”

Chuckling and moaning at the same time, his praise gave you a sense of security but also a sense of lust, wanting to coax out even more dangerously sweet words from his pretty mouth. 

“Go faster,,, Hyunjin”

You gasped out, the pleasure starting to pick up it’s pace. The sound of skin slapping against each other bounced off the white walls in the big studio, the old sofa creaking ever so often from the blond boys powerful thrusts. Hyunjin would never get tired of hearing you say his name, never. 

The knot in your stomach signaled your impending orgasm as your walls were stretched out. You pleaded him to not stop, your voice sounding frail as you neared your sweet release. The hot tempeture wasn’t helping the situation, sweat beading underneath Hyunjins headband, soaking the two strands of blonde locks that hanged infront of his face. 

“F-fuck,, y/n you’re so pretty with my hands wrapped around your throat, fuck-” 

A loud groan escaped his lips, the pleasure of your wet pussy against his rock-hard length getting too much, Hyunjin having to hold back until you came, not wanting to appear selfish. It wasn’t long until you felt your legs shaking around him, your toes curling as the squeaky sound from the couch increased along with the speed of Hyunjin’s thrusts, the rubber not giving him as much intimacy as he would have liked but the visual of you lying beneath him, squirming away from bliss and softly moaning made up for it. 

“I think- i think I’m cumming, s-shit Hyunjin, I’m cumming”

The words spilled from you, quickly followed by a incoherent mumbling of his name before a wave of hot flashed through your entire body, your walls clenching around him as your erotic juices coated his twitching cock. You held your hands against your face that was lightly coated with sweat but before you could come down from your high Hyunjin pinned your hands above your head by your wrists, him letting out a growl before his cum filled the tip of the condom. The both of you rode out your powerful orgasm, your moans softening as the intense feeling subsided, Hyunjin shivering with his last thrust before pulling out. 

The light sound of the air conditioner was now accompanied with heavy panting, your chest heaving as Hyunjin softly pulled down your skirt and ran his hand through his blonde hair, pushing the stray hairs away before rolling off the cumfilled condom and throwing it on the floor, the rubber landing on the dark clothing that were pooling next to the leather couch. The young boy lays down beside you, your eyes fixed on the ceiling as you faded away in a million thoughts, still trying to process what just happened. You turned your head against his, feeling his lingering gaze on your face and you swore you could hear your heart beat in your ears as his cheekbones lifted, his now cherry red lips turning into a soft smile. 

“Do you like me?” 

You choked on your own saliva, coughing and sitting up in panic making Hyunjin worry, him patting you on the back as he sat up next to you. 

“I-im sorry,, I shouldn’t have- y/n,, so-sorry”

He mutters out as you start laughing, he looking confused at your chuckling figure. 

“T-that’s,,, quite the direct question” you say, clearing your throat before continuing. “I don’t know Hyunjin. You know that this isn’t possible”

You saw his previously twinkling eyes turn blank, his heart sinking. 

“Uhm,,, n-no totally not,,, I just said it to-”

He tried to play cool, brushing off the fact that he didn’t get the answer he so longed for. His gaze turning away from your angelic face.

“But I like you”

You spoke quietly, your voice cracking at the end. Hyunjin turned back to you.

“Why wouldn’t it work then?” he asked with a confused voice. You sighed

“Hyunjin, do you not know who you are? We fucked in a building where you own half of the rights, you work with famous people and your work is in every magazine, don’t you understand?”

He stayed silent for a while, comtemplating on what to say before grabbing your clammy hand. 

“Do you only see me for my career?”

You shake your head, trying to catch eye contact with the blonde boy but failing as he stares down at your small hand in his grasp. 

“Hyunjin, I love you but this feels way to quick,,, I can’t just-”

“I’ve known about you for a while, y/n. Do you know why we even worked together in the first place?” 

Hyunjin speaks calmly, a thin string of sadness threading through his voice. You shake your head, looking at him but he looking away.

“I reached out to Bangchan first”

You weren’t surprised, only confused. What did he see in you? 

“I know it might seem,, rushed! But if- if we both like each other then we can make it work. Please don’t worry about our reputations, you are more than your career y/n even if it means the world to you.”

Hyunjin hesitated finishing his sentence, feeling sick to his stomach from the fear of rejection. You withdrew your hand, instead opening your arms and hugging him to which he smiled and hugged you back, the both of you falling back on the couch facing each other. 

“I think I love you,,, like,,, I really love you”

Hyunjin brushed away a strand of hair from your face, his tender eyes meeting yours. 

“And I love you too, y/n”

𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

@vogueinnie​ @that-anxious-bisexual @putmetogetheragain13 @hyunsluvv @lawleighette​ @meow-minho @minaamhh @ohmysparkle @hwangi @rindomo @fleeingreality​​​​​​​ @nycol-ie @jisungsplatforms @p0t4t0don14ll @skzstanlol

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Out Of Time ~ 128

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,500ish

Summary: Tony works to save Dr. Strange and Y/N. The fugitive Avengers find their way to the compound. (gifs aren’t mine)

As the alien started guiding the piece of pavement towards the giant circular ship, the cloak that was around Strange tore itself free and flew the piece of pavement away.

“No!” The alien yelled, following after it.

Iron Man and Spider-Man were both fighting off the large alien in the nearby park Tony had crashed into, when the pavement piece flew passed. All Tony could see was the cloak and the alien following, so he knew it was Strange and that he was in trouble.

“Kid, that’s wizard,” Tony told Peter, blocking an attack. “Get on it.”

“On it!” Peter replied, quickly swinging in that direction.

Spider-Man chased after the skinny alien, who was floating speedily and upright on a small platform of burbling debris. Swinging in between the pavement and the alien, Peter tried to tie up the alien. The alien attacked back, throwing a billboard at Spider-Man.

“Not cool!” Peter responded.

The alien bent all the utility poles in the path of the feeing clock, finally snagging the garment and ripping it loose of the pavement. Spider-Man re-arrived on the scene, finally noticing something.

“Uh, Mr. Stark? We have a problem,” Peter’s nervous voice rang over the comms.

“What is is kid?” Tony replied, still fighting off the larger alien. “I’m kinda in the middle—“

“Both the wizard and Miss Rogers are unconscious on the floating piece of road.”

“What?! I’ll be right there!”

Peter swung down to the pavement and stood on it, careful to not step on Strange or Y/N. Bending down, he went to break Y/N free when a cone of blue light began to pull the group upwards. Spider-Man jumped off, grabbing onto the nearest light post while using his webbing to try and keep the piece of pavement in place. The alien quickly uprooted the light post, sending Dr. Strange, the cloak, Y/N, and Peter on their way to the circular ship.

“Uhhh, Mr. Stark?” Peter called again. “I’m being beamed up!”

“Hang on, kid!” Tony responded.

Before Tony could fly over there, the giant alien he was fighting pinned Tony to the ground by his hammer that doubled as a claw. As the giant jumped towards Iron Man, blades ready to end the fight, he was sent through a portal instead. The alien turned and leaped  to return back through the portal, but Wong rapidly closed it and only the giant’s severed hand made its way back to the park. Bruce kicked the hand way with a noise of disgust. Iron Man then shook himself free of the weapon.

“Wong, you’re invited to my future wedding!” Tony exclaimed before beginning to fly towards the large ship. “Give me a little juice, FRIDAY.”

Iron Man’s foot thrusters suddenly morphed together into a single larger thruster, increasing his speed considerably. 

Peter, not being able to keep hold of the pavement piece, was hanging onto the ship as it flew up into space. The alien and the piece of pavement with Strange and Y/N on it, had disappeared into the ship. Tony knew that Peter wasn’t going to be able to hold on or breathe for much longer.

“Unlock 17-A,” Tony ordered FRIDAY. “Pete, you gotta let go. I’m gonna catch you.”

“But you said save the wizard!” Peter responded. Gasping from lack of oxygen, Peter ripped off his mask. “I can’t breathe!”

“You’re too high up. You’re running out of air.”

“Yeah! That makes sense.”

Quickly, Peter passed out, free-falling, but not before the pod Tony had set out reached him. It attached itself to him, becoming a new suit. Now being able to breathe, Spider-Man landed on the bottom part of the ship.

“Mr. Stark, it smells like a new car in here!” Peter commented.

“Happy trails, kid,” Tony replied. “FRIDAY, send him home.”

“Yep,” FRIDAY answered.

A large parachute extended from the new Spider-Man suit, spending him back towards earth.

“Oh, come on!” Peter shouted.

Iron Man latched onto the hull and cut a hole to board the ship, looking for wherever Strange and Y/N were taken.

“Boss, I have lifeforms detected in the ship,” FRIDAY informed. “One of them is most likely Agent Rogers.”

“Can you tell me if she’s breathing?”

A pause. “It appears she is.”

“Okay… I need you to—“

“I’m sorry, Boss, but we seem to be losing connection. We’re too far away from—“ Then FRIDAY”s line cut.

~~~

“Still no word from Vision?” The holographic image of Secretary Ross asked Rhodey. Rhodey was at the compound, dealing with the red tape.

“Satellites lost him somewhere over Edinburgh,” Rhodey replied.

“On a stolen Quinjet with four of the world's most wanted criminals.”

“You know they're only criminals because you've chosen to call them that, right, sir?”

“My God, Rhodes, your talent for horseshit rivals my own.”

“If it weren't for those Accords, Vision would've been right here.”

“I remember your signature on those papers, Colonel.”

“That's right. And I'm pretty sure I've paid for that.”

“You have second thoughts?”

“Not anymore.”

Suddenly, the fugitive Avengers (Sam, Wanda, Nat, and Steve) entered the room. Vision was being supported by Sam.

“Mr. Secretary,” Steve greeted, firmly.

“You got some nerve,” Ross said, hologram walking up to the Captain. “I’ll give you that.”

“You could use some of that right now,” Natasha replied.

“The world's on fire. And you think, all is forgiven?”

“I'm not looking for forgiveness. And I'm way past asking for permission,” Steve stated. “Earth just lost her best defender. So we're here to fight.” He took a step towards the hologram. “And if you wanna stand in our way… we’ll fight you too.” 

Ross turned to Rhodes. “Arrest them.”

“All over it,” Rhodey responded before swiping off the hologram. “That’s a court-martial. It’s great to see you, Cap.”

The two men hugged. “You too, Rhodey,” Steve responded before Natasha went to hug Rhodey.

“Well. You guys really look like crap. Must've been a rough couple of years.”

“Yeah, well, the hotels weren’t exactly five star,” Sam commented.

“Uh, I think you look great,” Bruce nervously walked in from the opposite end of the room. “Uh… heh… Yeah. I’m back.”

“Hi, Bruce,” Nat greeted softly.

“Nat.”

“This is awkward,” Sam whispered.

Steve looked around. “Has anyone heard from Y/N?” He asked. “She’d want to know—“

“She’s missing too, Steve,” Bruce interrupted. “When I found Tony to get his help, Y/N was with him.”

“She was… she was with him? But Y/N’s a fugitive as well. How—“

“Mr. Stark and Miss Rogers have been sneaking around,” Vision cut Steve off.

“What?!” Steve and Rhodey exclaimed.

“It’s been happening for about a year now.”

“Miss Rogers has been seeing Boss and Sergeant Barnes,” FRIDAY clarified. “Trying to work through her feelings.”

“Thats… and she never…” Steve was at a loss for words.

“You didn’t try to reach out to her either, Cap,” Sam said. “You even knew she was staying in Wakanda. T’Challa told you. And you refused to reach out.”

“What happened?” Steve asked, looking at Bruce.

“She got captured,” Bruce explained. “Tony went after the ship to protect her and the Time Stone.”

“Why don’t we take this into the other room?” Rhodey suggested. “Perhaps get you guys something to drink.”

They went into the next room over, each standing or sitting around the room. Bruce explained more of what happened and the other group explained what happened to them.

“So we gotta assume they’re coming back, right?” Rhodey questioned.

“And they can clearly find us,” Wanda added.

“We need all hands on deck,” Bruce stated. “Where’s Clint?”

“After the whole Accords situation, he and Scott took a deal,” Nat answered. “It was too tough on their families, they're on house arrest.”

“Who’s Scott?”

“Ant-Man,” Steve replied.

“There's an Ant-Man and a Spider-Man? Okay, look… Thanos has the biggest army in the universe. And he is not gonna stop until he... he gets... Vision's Stone.”

“Well then, we have to protect it,” Nat stated.

“No, we have to destroy it,” Vision said. "I've been giving a good deal of thought to this entity in my head, about its nature. But also, its composition. I think if it were exposed to a sufficiently powerful energy source, something, very similar to its own signature, perhaps… its molecular integrity could fail.”

“And you, with it,” Wanda said. “We’re not having this conversation.”

“Eliminating the stone is the only way to be certain that Thanos can't get it.”

“That’s too high a price.”

Vision took Wanda’s face gently with both hands. “With Y/N off world, only you have the power to pay it.” Wanda walked away, distressed. “Thanos threatens half the Universe. One life cannot stand in the way of defeating him.”

“But it should,” Steve said, looking at Vision. “We don’t trade lives, Vision.”

“Captain, 70 years ago, you laid down your life to save how many millions of people. Tell me, why is this any different?”

“Because you might have a choice,” Bruce suggested. “Your mind is made up of a complex construct of overlays. JARVIS, Ultron, Tony, me, the Stone. All of them mixed together. All of them learning from one another.”

“You’re saying Vision isn’t just the Stone?” Wanda asked.

“I'm saying that if we take out the Stone, there's still a whole lot of Vision left. Perhaps the best parts.”

“Can we do that?” Nat wondered.

“Not me. Not here.”

“You better find someone, and somewhere fast,” Rhodey said. “Ross isn't exactly just gonna let you guys have your old rooms back.”

“I know somewhere,” Steve stated. “Wakanda. But someone first has to explain how Y/N has anything to do with the Stone.”

“70 years ago, the Tesseract chose her to be the protector of the Stones,” Vision explained, knowing the story due to housing the Mind Stone in his head. “That’s how she survived the fall. The Tesseract holds the Space Stone. Her powers come for each of the Stones, so she has the power to destroy the Stones, by channeling them. Y/N is able to wield and control the all the Stones.”

“What I showed her…” Wanda said quietly. “It was the Stone… Y/N’s the key to stopping Thanos.”

~~~

T’Challa already knew Y/N was missing before Steve had contacted him. With Okoye and two other guards, he made his way to Bucky’s place. Bucky was throwing bags onto a partly-filled car, being watched by two village children.

“You’ll have the Kingsgaurd, and the Dora Milaje have been alerted,” Okoye told T’Challa as they made their way towards Bucky’s small hut. 

“And the Border Tribe?” T’Challa wondered.

“Those that are left.”

“Send word to the Jabari as well. M’Baku likes a good fight.”

“And what of this one?” Okoye looked at Bucky, just down the hill.

“This one may be tired of war. But the White Wolf has rested long enough.”

They made their way to Bucky. The guards set an elaborate and high-tech looking case down on the cart. They opened the lid to reveal the black and gold vibranium arm that Bucky had worn on Valentine’s Day.

Bucky sighed. “Where’s the fight?” He asked.

“On its way,” T’Challa answered. “And, Barnes…” The King glanced over at Okoye. “There’s something else. It’s about Y/N.”

Bucky was immediately alert. “What is it?”

“She’s missing.”

~~~

Dr. Strange was floating horizontally, face down, surrounded by dozens of long, glassy needles, as the alien interrogated him. Y/N was still unconscious, tied to the pavement off to the side.

“In all the time I’ve served Thanos, I’ve never failed him,” the alien told Dr. Strange. “If I were to reach our rendezvous on Titan with the Time Stone still attached to your vaguely irritating person, there would be... judgement.” The needles began to contact Dr. Strange’s face, causing pain. “Give me… the Stone.”

Tony was watching, hiding from above. After receiving a tap on the arm, Tony turned around, hand up and ready to shoot. Tony stood stand after seeing that it was the cloak.

“Wow, you’re a seriously loyal piece of outerwear, aren’t you?” Tony commented.

“Yeah, un speaking of loyalty…”

Tony and the cloak turn, completely shocked, to see Peter dropping down from above.

“What the—“

“I know what you’re gonna say,” Peter interrupted, holding his hands out.

“You should not be here,” Tony stated.

“I was gonna go home—“

“I don’t wanna hear it.”

“But it was such a long way down and I just thought about you and Y/N on the way—”

“And now I gotta hear it.”

“—and I kinda stuck to the side of the ship. And this suit is ridiculously intuitive, by the way. So if anything, it’s kinda your fault that I’m here.”

Both the cloak and Tony looked shocked, again. “What did you just say?”

“I take that back. And now I’m here in space.”

“Yeah.” Tony went to stand right in front of Peter. “Right where I don’t want you to be. This isn’t Coney Island. This isn't a field trip. It's a one-way ticket. You hear me? Don't pretend like you thought this through. You could not have possibly thought this through.”

"No. I did think this through.”

“You could not have possibly thought this through.”

“It's just .. you can't be a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man if there's no neighborhood.” Peter waited to get something from Tony, but nothing. “Okay. That didn't really make any sense, but you know what I'm trying to say.”

Tony let out a shaky breath. “Come on. We got a situation.” 

Tony led Peter over to where they could see Dr. Strange, Y/N, and the alien. Peter crouched down to study the situation and the cloak leaned over his shoulder.

“See him down there?” Tony pointed to Dr. Strange. “He’s in trouble. And Y/N laying over there as well. What’s your plan? Go.”

“Um. Okay, okay… uh…” Peter stuttered, trying to think. He and the cloak popped back upright. “Okay. Did you ever see this really old movie, Aliens?”

~~~

Meanwhile, the Stones were talking to an unconscious Y/N.

“You can’t stop what’s coming… it will come, no matter what. You are being saved for the final battle… we will stop you from doing anything to prevent what needs to happen. What’s supposed to happen… someday, you will understand. There are things meant to be learned, things meant to happen, that we will not let you stop… use your powers wisely.”

She gasped quietly, waking up. Y/N quickly studied her surroundings. She could feel the Time Stone close before she noticed the predicament Dr. Strange was in. The glass spikes were pressing into Strange’s skin, causing him to let out a groan.

“Painful, aren’t they?” The alien taunted. Ebony Maw, the name was, Y/N finally getting inside his head. “They were originally designed for microsurgery. And any one of them—“

There was a thump behind Maw, he turned to see Iron Man standing there. Tony’s hand repulsers were ready to fire. Y/N closed her eyes and focused on getting out of the utility ropes without making a big scene.

“—could end your friend’s life in an instant,” Maw continued.

“I gotta tell you, he’s not really my friend,” Tony responded. “Saving his life is more a professional courtesy.”

“Ah, yes. It’s the girl you’re really after.” Maw walked slowly towards Iron Man, beckoning very large metal objects to float behind him. “Too bad you’ve saved nothing. Your powers are inconsequential compared to mine.”

“Yeah, but the kid’s seen more movies.”

Iron Man fired a rocket from his shoulder which pierces the side of the ship to Maw’s right and began to suck everything out with depressurization, including Y/N. She quickly portaled herself to behind Tony, relieving herself from the binds. Maw was sucked out into space quickly. Dr. Strange was pulled loose of his bindings and the needles, also heading for the hole. The cloak quickly wrapped around Dr. Strange, trying to keep him inside. Strange and the cloak lost their grip, but Spider-Man shot a web strand, holding him in place. Or trying to. 

The web broke, sending both Strange and Peter towards space. Suddenly, Peter’s suit releases metal spider-like arms, keeping him from being sucked out. Y/N quickly portaled Strange behind her.

“Yes!” Peter shouted, looking at the metal arms. “Wait, what are those?!”

Using the metal arms, Peter leaped to get to a safer place. Tony quickly sprayed nano-particles onto the hole to plug it. Spider-Man landed on his new legs, quickly retracted them. He found the cloak hovering next to him. 

“Hey, we haven’t officially met,” Peter said, offering the cloak his hand. It ignored it, going straight to Strange. “Cool.”

Tony’s suit quickly disappeared back into the arc reactor as he rushed to Y/N. He grabbed onto her arms, examining her body for any injuries.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” He asked. Tony’s hands found a place on her cheeks. “Tell me you’re—“

“I’m fine, Tony,” she responded. “I’m fine.”

He gave her a kiss before pulling her in for a hug. “I was so worried.”

“I’m fine.” She hugged him back, breathing him in. “I’m fine.”

“We’ve gotta turn this ship around,” Strange stated.

“Yeah. Now he wants to run,” Tony replied. “Great plan.”

“No, I want to protect the Stone.”

Tony walked towards the front window, showing that they were speeding. “And I want you to thank me now. Go ahead, I’m listening.”

“For what? Nearly blasting me into space?”

“Who just saved your magical ass? Me.”

“Technically it was me,” Y/N added.

“I seriously don’t know how you fit your head into that helmet,” Strange scoffed.

“Admit it. You should have ducked out when I told you to,” Tony continued. “I tried to bench you. You refused.”

“I tried to bench your girlfriend, yet she refused as well. And, unlike everyone else in your life, I don’t work for you.”

“And due to that fact, we’re now in a flying doughnut billions of miles away from Earth with no backup.”

“I’m backup,” Peter said, raising his hand.

“No. You’re a stowaway.” Tony pointed his finger between himself and Strange. “The adults are talking.”

“I’m sorry, I’m confused as to the relationship here,” Strange said. “Wh—what is he, your ward?”

“No,” Peter responded. “I’m Peter, by the way.”

“Dr. Strange.”

“Oh, we're using our made-up names. Um... I'm Spider-Man, then."

“Peter,” Y/N muttered, rolling her eyes.

“This ship is self-correcting its course,” Tony stated. “Thing’s on autopilot.”

“Can we control it?” Strange asked, walking closer to Tony. “Fly us home.”

Tony, looking out in space, was lost in bad memories. Of going through the portal, of what Wanda showed him. 

“Tony?” Y/N called softly, stepping towards him. She was concerned. 

“Yeah?” He responded. He met her gaze briefly, quickly looking away cause it was not the time for him to be freaking out or for her to be reading him.

“Can you get us home?” Strange asked.

“Yeah. I heard you. I’m thinking… I’m not so sure we should.”

“What?” Y/N questioned. “Why?”

“Under no circumstance can we bring the Time Stone to Thanos,” Strange stated. “I don't think you quite understand what's at stake here.”

Tony talked over to Strange. “No. It's you who doesn't understand, that Thanos has been inside my head for six years since he sent an army to New York and now he's back! And I don't know what to do. Because I am not sacrificing Y/N for the sake of the universe, for whatever the Stones have told her is her destiny. So I'm not so sure if it's a better plan to fight him on our turf or his but you saw what they did, what they can do. At least on his turf, he's not expecting it. So I say we take the fight to him. Doctor. Do you concur?”

Strange was silent for a moment. “Alright, Stark. We go to him. But you have to understand... if it comes to saving you or the kid or the Time Stone... I will not hesitate to let either of you die. I can't, because the fate of the universe depends on it.”

“Nice. Good. Moral compass. We're straight.” Tony stepped over to Peter, formally tapping each of Peter’s shoulders. “Alright kid. You’re an Avenger now.”

“You skipped me,” Y/N said, walking up to Strange.

“Excuse me?” He questioned.

“You said that if it came between saving Tony, Peter, or the Time Stone, that you’d choose the Time Stone… but what about me?”

“You and I both know, Y/N, that the Stones will not let you die until you have completed what they need you for. No matter what that may be.”

next chapter >

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