#Qr code reader on my phone

[formulakracing]

i. now or never - t.w.

pairing -> student intern!reader x toto wolff

word count -> 1.7k

warnings -> cursing, age gap relationships, power imbalance, a little bit of toxicity, toto being sexy (as always), world-building, mentions of marijuana use, mentions of alcohol use, allusions to sexual fantasies, SLOW BURN (fr this time) yadayadayada (if i missed somethin’ lemme know)

a/n -> i apologize in advance if the internship i write about is nothing like an actual internship for mercedes LMFAO also, bear with me. i know it starts slow but it will pick up!

"oh, great. you're bringing up this fucking internship again. why are you always going on and on about this stupid program?"

swallowing thickly, you drum your fingers on the table, shrugging ever so slightly, "why not? i think it would be a great opportunity for not only grad school, but for career advancement. do you know how many doors that would open for me if i—"

"you'd be gone for an entire year. that's why i don't think it's a good idea."

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺

inhaling sharply, you bite down on your tongue, suppressing a sharp retort.

why does it matter if i have to leave for a year? it's not like you care enough about my interests anyway.

he arches a brow, cocking his head, "why aren't you saying anything?"

"because it's not worth bickering about," fingers curling around the misty glass, you swirl it around, watching as the bubbles float to the surface, "you're right. i'd be gone for a year. it's such a competitive program. i don't even think i'm good enough to get in. they probably prioritize european students anyway. the deadline for the application is due in a week. there's no way i could get everything together in time. it's not worth all the hassle."

"good girl," he hums in approval, shoving a few fries in his mouth, "you know i support you throughout everything you do. i just don't want you to pour all of your energy into this one project just to be rejected. i know you. you'd be devastated. you wouldn't leave your apartment for weeks."

do you know me though? do you really?

the waitress slips by the table, sliding a receipt toward the middle of the table, "here's the bill, as requested. have a great night! be safe getting home!"

gnawing on the inside of your cheek, you wait until her back is turned. exhaling, you pick up the bill, "i'll get it."

"you sure?" he presses, "i'll cover the tip then."

"sounds good."

fishing your phone out of your pocket, you let it hover over the qr code. typing in your card information, you can't help but notice him fumbling with his pockets, searching for his wallet.

puckering your lips, it's your turn to tilt your head, "did you forget your wallet at home?"

"yeaaaaahhhh," his lower lips quivers, forming a pout, "would you mind? i can just venmo or cashapp you later."

"sure," clicking your tongue, you select the tip percentage on the screen, ensuring that the waitress receives a few more dollars than suggested, "okay, it's paid for. let's go."

he follows in suit as you slide out of the booth, shoving your arms in your jacket. pulling his phone out, his attention is fixated on the dim screen, fingers a flurry as he types away.

"hey, one of the boys is going through some shit. you mind if i catch an uber over to his place? i'll be home later."

"like how late?"

"i don't know," he shakes his head, gaze glued on whatever he was possibly reading, "it's matteo. his girlfriend cheated on him. it looks like he could use cheering up."

"i don't care," your eye twitches, yet you wave a hand, "as long as you don't wake me up when you get back."

"of course baby," he coos, placing a tender peck on your cheek, "get some safe, okay?"

"i will," you nod, "love you."

"love you too!" he beams, pulling you in for a quick embrace, "i'll be back before midnight."

"okay."

it's a quiet trek through the parking lot.

a breeze rolls through the cars, promising of frigid weather. tangerine rays filter through the trees, the sun making its descent toward the horizon. the sky is a blanket of a tranquil blue, with traces of lavender and magenta as dusk transitions to night.

clicking your key fob, your vehicle chirps, the engine roaring to life. opening the door, you nearly collapse into the seat, your vision blurred by tears. sniffling, you ensure your seat belt is on, shifting the gear into reverse.

as you pull out of the parking lot, you catch a glimpse of your boyfriend as he clambers into the uber. you try to wave, to muster some sort of smile, but he is not paying any sort of attention as your car soars by.

at that, the tears erupt into sobs.

by no means was your boyfriend a terrible man. he was more than adequate, actually. however, the sheer disdain in his voice over the idea of your pursuing this internship left a sour taste in your mouth.

to be honest, it was more like an awful, putrid taste, bile rising up in the back of your throat as you wallow over the interaction, knuckles turning white as you grip the steering wheel.

the internship in question?

well, it was more like a job opening.

you left that part out, just so that your family and boyfriend would be more apt to the idea. after all, they did not need to know all of the particulars.

all they needed to know is that you were prepping for the opportunity of a lifetime.

an opportunity overseas to work with the mercedes amg petronas formula one team as a member of their media crew.

the internship spanned over the course of several months, following the team throughout the season. from what you could make out from the application, you would start just shy of the season opener in melbourne, around march third. the end date was unclear, but you figured it would end around the time the season was over in december. in all, you would be away from home for nine months.

and your internship duties? all you had to do was travel to luxurious cities, meet fans, promote the team across their social media platforms, and most importantly, film the races.

and the best part? it was a paid internship. mercedes would not only pay you for working with them, but they would also cover travel costs, food, and even software upgrades. additionally, you would receive a monthly stipend for your own personal spending, just so that you could "enjoy your time with us to the fullest."

it was everything you could have dreamed of and more.

so, what was holding you back?

well, there were a few things.

one, was your boyfriend. he was not keen on the idea of you leaving the country, even if it was only for a few months. he was very adamant that if you were to take this internship, then he would end your relationship.

according to him, nine months was too much for him to do long distance. although, the two of you had temporarily engaged in a long distance relationship before he transferred back home.

two, was your family. similar to your boyfriend, they were not happy about the idea of you leaving. they felt that formula one was too flashy. too extravagant. you would not fit in with all of the wealthy moguls and influencers.

you belonged here, in your mediocre college town where no one ever left. you would fare much better spending every weekend frequenting the same bars over and over again, running into the same people, making awkward, monotone small talk. besides, what if the internship was a scam? what if it wasn't everything you hoped it would be?

and the third reason?

well, it was a bit more complicated.

you had a bit of impostor syndrome, as you felt your skills were not good enough. your editing was too choppy. your transitions were not quite neat enough to fit the speed of the cars. since you were an amateur, your work was mainly posted across your instagram and tik tok accounts. your resume was nowhere near as elegant as the other potential applications.

so, why even try? why apply to something like this?

well, ever since you were a little girl, you dreamed of working in motorsports. you weren't quite sure of what you would do at the time, but you knew that it was your calling.

every time you watched a race or posted an edit, there was a shiver that ran down your spine, goosebumps appearing all over. there was a pull at your heart, nearly tugging away at you.

it was enticing, begging you to keep watching. to keep compiling clips together. to keep creating material that was crafted by you, and only you.

it called to push your creativity to the limits. to chase that dream.

to satisfy that hunger deep in your soul.

with graduation only if a few months, you were running out of time. it was now or never. make it or break it.

it was time to push yourself. it was time to break free from the clutches of your college town. it was time to take the leap, one that you had been putting off for so fucking long.

it was time to finally put yourself first.

to choose something that would bring you nothing but pure, immense joy.

and as you pulled into your driveway, you threw open your car door. scurrying inside, you made your way to your room, pushing the door open. tossing your bag on your bed, you hunker at your desk, locating that bookmarked tab.

everything was in order. you had the letters of recommendation. the personal statement was attached. the resume was completed. the portfolio was uploaded.

all you had to do was press that final square.

submit.

your index fingers hovers above the button, nearly trembling.

squeezing your eyes shut, you apply pressure, a clicking ringing in your ears.

within seconds, a new message appears across your screen.

thank you for your interest in this internship with the mercedes amg petronas formula one media team!

after receiving your application, our team will diligently look over your application and submit it for review.

a decision will be made in approximately six to eight weeks. once we have made our decision, you should receive an email in your inbox. make sure to check your spam, as it may be sent there.

we wish you the best of luck!

[haihoneys]

Pool Party Fun Times

Summary: San is getting really tired of this cat-and-mouse game he’s been playing with Y/N. Little does he know, she’s fed up too. What’s going to happen when they each decide they’re going to make a move at their mutual friend’s pool party?

Word Count: 3,763

Pairing: Choi San x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut - reader is a ✨screamer✨, mention of blood (bitten lip), barely proofread (im defs high editing this oops), unprotected sex (pls be smart)

A/N: this is set in the same universe as If The Heavens Ever Did Speak and Afternoon Delight. you don’t have to read those to read this, though!! just thought i would mention it hehe. if you wanna get really specific… it actually happens the same day as Afternoon Delight… its the same party 👀

——

The first time they met, San found himself drawn to her. She just had this magnetism about her that seemed to always keep him in her orbit. From the second Yeosang, a long-time friend of her’s apparently, introduced them to one another at a listening party San was just…enamored. She was all twinkling eyes and bright smiles, fluttering lashes and breathy laughs. 

Since then, she’d been popping up randomly in his world.

Two days after the listening party, they ran into each other at a cafe. A week after that, he was picking up some takeout from his favorite chicken place and all but ran into her as she was leaving the same restaurant. The very next day, as he was leaving the dance practice, he saw her from across the street as she was exiting a cab. 

San smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners as he laughed and called her name. Y/N whipped around, shock coloring her features as she searched for the stranger calling for her. He jogged across the street, huffing another chuckle as he stopped before her. 

“We really need to stop running into each other like this.”

She laughed and nodded her agreement, reaching out a hand to rest on his bicep.  

The gentle touch had him biting down on the inside of his cheeks to keep from sighing and leaning closer to her.

“Yeah, we definitely do,” she smiled up at him, and to his horror, she pulled her hand away to hoist her bag up higher on her shoulder. “I actually have a meeting I need to get to. But, here, let me see your phone?”

San immediately started fumbling for his phone, patting at his pockets until he found the device. He unlocked it before placing it in her waiting palm. Y/n pulled out her own phone, swiping until she open… Snapchat… of all things and opened up her profile to show the qr code. She found the same app on his phone and opened it up, scanning the code to add her as a ‘friend.’ 

She made a satisfied little hmph sound as she locked his phone and handed it back to him. “Ooh, the request came through! Let me accept it before I head to my meeting.”

And they had been dancing around each other ever since, skirting just on the edge of flirting.

A shirtless, post-workout gym selfie from San. A shot of her legs in a bubble bath in response. 

A reply to his story complimenting his new haircut. A little video showing off said haircut as he thanked her.

Nothing too overt, but at the same time… it wasn’t just nothing.

They were both aware of the mutual attraction, of the suggestiveness of some of their photos and messages. But neither of them were making any real moves towards the other.

That is, until they were thrown into a group chat together with all their friends and invited to a pool party to celebrate the start of the summer.

Their phones pinged at the same time from opposite sides of the city: Y/N tucked into her cozy apartment and San in the back of an SUV on his way back to the dorms from the studio.

That was it. That was the opportunity they needed. This party would be the perfect time to make a move.

Of course, both of them choked when the day came. Offering up only shy hellos and timid waves when they saw each other.

In San’s defense though, she just looked too fucking good. When he saw her in the low-cut summer dress, nipples poking through the thin fabric, he had to excuse himself to the bathroom to adjust his semi-hard cock in his jeans.

He spent the rest of the afternoon making eyes at her from across the pool deck, not bothering to hide the fact or even deny it when Wooyoung giggled about it.

And she was sending those looks right back to him! He swore she was fluttering her long eyelashes at him, too. And maybe he started to think about how she would look up at him when she was on her knees for him… about how she’d take him down her throat and - 

A beach ball came soaring across the deck and smacked him on the forehead. He stood there, a bit dazed, as he snapped out of his thoughts.

Wooyoung was doubled over, laughing so hard he was near tears, trying to choke out an apology. San huffed and rolled his eyes, picking the pool toy up and hurling it back at Wooyoung.

San smiled at the dull thwack! as it made contact with the side of his head.

“Ow!” Wooyoung gasped, hand flying to rub at his head. “No way it hit you that hard!” 

“Serves you right, brat,” San shrugged. Honestly, it was probably for the best with the way his thoughts were spiraling just seconds ago. 

San eventually found himself behind the outdoor bar, playing bartender much to the delight of his friends. Yunho and Mingi’s cheering for him caught Y/N’s attention from across the deck, her focus pulling away from the boys’ makeup artist to land on the rowdy trio. 

She excused herself at the first lull in the conversation, claiming she needed another drink despite the nearly full seltzer she was nursing, and seated herself at the far end of the bar. 

San turned toward her, leaning back against the counter behind him as he tossed the towel he was using to dry his hands over his shoulder. He crosses his thick arms and Y/N’s eyes locked in on the corded muscles and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t thinking about him pinning her down and - 

“What can I getcha miss?”

His question brought her back to reality, her cheeks and ears heating as he stared her down.

‘He knows’ she thought ‘he absolutely, 100% knows that I was just thinking about him pinning me to the bed upstairs.’ 

“Um,” she stuttered, suddenly nervous under the weight of his intense gaze. “Surprise me.” 

The left corner of his mouth tugged into a smirk as he uncrossed his arms and turned away from her. He began pouring various mixers and liquors into a shaker before slapping the top on and shaking the concoction. Y/N watched him and nearly moaned at the way the toned muscles in his shoulders and back flexed and moved under his white t-shirt as he went about the task. 

Yeosang just so happened to pass behind her and reached up to tug on a lock of her hair to get her attention. Y/N hummed, barely acknowledging her friend, and Yeosang chuckled under his breath.

“Close your mouth. You’re starting to drool,” he teased before walking off again. 

Y/N swatted at him as he went, mumbling for him to hush because she was busy watching a ‘show.’ 

San scooped some ice into a glass and poured the mixture over it, making a show of licking the fingers of his right hand as he slid her the drink with his left. He leaned forward onto the bar, and the muscles of his arms shifted again. He noted Y/N’s eyes following his movements, and he smirked.

“Let me know what you think.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great.” She reached for the glass, making sure to just barely brush the tips of her fingers against his forearm as she did. She kept her eyes locked on his as she brought the glass to her lips and took a sip.

“I bet it’ll be the best you’ve ever had.” 

Y/N choked and spluttered on her drink, the heat returning to her cheeks. She looked up at him when she finally caught her breath, ready to spew something about how the drink had just gone down the wrong way. But when her eyes locked on his face again he was giving her the biggest shit eating grin and something clicked into place.

She realized he had been torturing her on purpose. Well, two could play at that game, she supposed. 

She leaned forward onto the bar, purposefully crossing her arms under her tits so they were pushed up practically in his face. She gave herself an extra point in their little game when she noticed his eyes dip down to her cleavage. He flicked his eyes back up to meet hers, his mouth opening to say something clever, to try to fluster her again. So she beat him to the punch.

“Hmm.. I bet I could top it.”

San cocked an eyebrow and grinned at her. “Is that so?” 

Y/N hummed in affirmation and took another sip of her drink. This time, she had to bite back her cringe as the alcohol actually made contact with her taste buds. It was atrocious; nail polish remover probably would have gone down smoother than the literal poison he had given her.

But she smiled, her best attempt at coy, and slid off the bar stool without another word, making sure to put a little emphasis in the sway of her hips as she made her way to the sliding door that led directly into the sunroom of the house. 

It was one of those cliche-as-fuck moments where San thought “damn I hate to see her go, but I love to watch her leave”. 

He was still leaned over the bar, trying to give her at least a few minutes of a head start so everyone still gathered around the pool and bar wouldn't immediately know what they were about to get up to.

The last shred of his willpower flew out the window, though, when she made it to the door and looked over her shoulder at him. She grinned like she knew she had him in the palm of her hand.

And to be fair, she did. 

San pushed off the bar and, as casually as he could, walked towards the door she’d just disappeared through. He found her in the sunroom leaning against the sideboard that was pressed directly under the window, back to the door as she played on her phone.

He stepped behind her and wrapped an arm around her from behind, one hand splaying across her lower tummy as she discarded her phone. San leaned in and moved the hair from her neck and shoulder before leaning in and pressing a kiss just beneath her ear. 

“You thought you were cute out there, huh?”

She could feel the smirk he pressed into the skin of her neck, and then all of the bravado she had worked up was suddenly gone as she practically melted into his touch.

“Bet you thought you had the upper hand all day…Just flouncing around in this flimsy little dress.”

His hands started to wander, leaving goosebumps in their wake as they slid from her hips, up her abdomen to cup and squeeze at her tits. “Not wearing a fucking bra… bet you aren’t wearing panties either, are you?” San laughs, and it’s a sardonic, almost cruel sound.

He pinched at one of her nipples and involuntarily bucked into her when she whimpered and arched into his touch. He slid a hand up further so he could grasp her neck, turning her head towards him just a bit so he could see her pretty face. 

“What if I’m not?” She was breathless as she said it, the anticipation, the want, evident in her tone.

She was clenching her thighs together, trying for any sort of friction, for any sort of relief. San laughed again and dropped the hand that was still on her chest back to her hip. He started to grab and bunch the fabric there, hiking her dress up just enough to slip his hand under the hem.

Y/N whimpered as his fingers brushed over her thighs, tracing shapes and patterns so close yet so far from where she truly wanted him. She was ready to beg for it, the plea on the tip of her tongue when he finally, blessedly moved his hand between her thighs and slid his fingers through her folds. 

He pulled his hand away and held it up in front of their faces, the setting sun shining through the window and reflecting off the sticky wetness on his fingers. 

“You’re being a tease,” she breathed out, chest heaving. 

San laughed and Y/N was beginning to hate the sound and how it made her pussy clench and ache for him. She turned in his grip and watched as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean.

He groaned at the taste of her. He was going to spend a long, long time between her thighs. He wanted to fucking drink her and all she had to give him. 

Then he was kissing her, hands in the hair at the base of her skull and pulling just hard enough to guide her where he wanted her. She could still taste herself on his tongue and it was driving her fucking insane, her head swimming.

The primal urge to tear into each other was palpable. The kiss was all clashing teeth and bitten lips, wet and sticky with spit and a bit of blood from a bite that was just a bit too hard. San pulled away a fraction, his pupils blown wide as he stared her down. 

Y/N zoned in on the drop of blood on his lip and gasped. “Fuck! I’m so sorry…oh my god… I didn’t realize I was going that crazy.”

She was speaking a mile a minute, rambling and apologizing profusely, and San cut her off with another searing kiss. 

“What’s pleasure without a bit of pain?” He walked them backwards as he said it, his hands still tangled in her hair.

He eased them down onto the daybed at the back of the room, pulling her into his lap and rucking her dress back up around her hips so she could straddle him.

“You okay?” He asked, wanting to keep her comfort at the top of his priorities. 

“God, yes,” she breathed out and went back in for another kiss, licking into his mouth like she wanted to imprint the taste of him in her own mouth. Y/N started grinding down onto him, the fly of his jeans and the hardness of his cock providing the most delicious friction against her clit.

He moaned into her mouth, strong hands on her hips, dragging her back and forth over his lap until she was whimpering and whining for him. San kissed at the corner of her mouth and murmured to her, “You gonna cum for me? Gonna cum just from humping me like this, baby?” 

She whined and nodded her head frantically, her voice fully gone, the pressure building and building in her lower belly until her toes were curling and stars were bursting behind her eyelids. San hummed below her, hands still pushing and pulling at her as she started to writhe above him, riding out her high.

San watched her, in rapture, as she lost herself to the pleasure. He wanted to burn the sight into the backs of his eyelids so he could conjure it up the next time he found himself alone and wanting.

“I need you inside me right now or I might fucking die.”

That might be the hottest thing he’d ever heard. 

She lifted herself onto her knees - there was just enough space between them to allow her to fumble with his pants and help him shimmy them down his thick thighs. She almost started salivating at the sight of his cock slapping up against his abdomen, heavy and swollen and already leaking precum. 

“Can’t have that now, can we?” He tried to joke, but his laugh was cut off by a guttural groan as she sank down onto him. The wet, molten heat of her might just be heaven, his own personal nirvana. He honestly thought he could live there, buried to the hilt in her pretty little cunt.

Then she started rocking against him and moaning his name, and San nearly came undone at the sound. He gripped at her hips, fingers pressing marks that would surely turn to bruises, and picked her up just enough to give him room to fuck up into her.

The angle was damn near perfect, she could feel every ridge and vein of him, could feel the tip of his cock kissing against her cervix. Her head fell back as she moaned at a particularly well-placed thrust, leaving her throat exposed to him. And San took full advantage of it.

He leaned forward and attached his lips to the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Biting down until she whined - he was starting to think that high-pitched, needy little noise was going to become one of his favorite sounds - before he laved over the quickly reddening mark with his tongue to soothe the sting of pain. 

She was clawing at his arms and shoulders, nails raking down his skin, and he hissed at the sharp bite of it. But he loved it. Loved that she was marking him up, putting her claim on him in such a visible way. Just as he had done to her. 

Suddenly, he was flipping them, and she squealed, arms flying up to wrap around his neck. San never lost his momentum though, fucking into her with even more force thanks to the new angle and leverage. He buried his face in her neck, kissing and sucking new marks onto the column of her throat.

“Fuckkkk,” he groaned into her, pressing the curse into her skin between the kisses, “you feel so fucking good.” 

Words were lost to her at that point; her eyes rolled back in her head as he slammed into her over and over again. She was whimpering and keening beneath him, her hands tangled in and tugging at his hair as he kept pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

San slipped his own hand between them, effortlessly finding her swollen clit. It was a bit clumsy at first, but he steadied himself quickly, drawing tight little circles over her. He sped up his thrusts, and the force of it had them sliding over the edge of the bed.

He was somehow clear-headed enough to thank god that the daybed was low. Practically just cushions on the floor already, so neither of them ended up hurt when they fully slid to the floor.

Y/N didn’t even seem to notice the shift, pupils blown wide, and cheeks flushed. She looked so fucked out that he thought he might could cum just from the look on her face. From knowing that it was him that put that look there. He set back to rubbing at her clit, determined to make her cum again.

“Can you cum for me again, baby? I need you to cum for me… c’mon and give it to me, yeah?

She didn’t need words to answer him, her body taking over and doing it for her as her pussy clamped down so tight around him that he couldn’t fucking move.

The blinding ecstasy ripped through her, and she screamed his name as her vision fully whited out. She was clinging to him like she might slip away from the earth if he wasn’t there tethering her to it, arms thrown around his shoulders and legs hooked over his hips.

San slapped a hand over her mouth, torn between relishing in the fact that he was the one making her scream like that and being worried about everyone just on the other side of the window being able to hear them. 

He swore to himself that next time, he would make sure they were fully alone. That they had all the privacy they needed so she could be as loud as she wanted. So he would be able to hear all those pretty sounds at full volume.

San knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, the fluttering of her cunt around him and the muffled whines she was making from behind his hand were sending him barreling towards his own climax.

He quickly pulled out, sitting back on his calves, his hand flew over his cock as he gave himself a few pumps. San moaned as he came, hot ropes of cum spilling onto her lower belly. 

She was still trembling through her aftershocks as she hummed and brought her fingers to the mess, swirled them around before bringing them to her lips and licking them clean. The menace made sure to keep her gaze locked on his as she did it, moaning at the taste of him as he watched her slack-jawed.

“Didn’t think it was fair that you got to taste me and I didn’t get to taste you.”

San snorted as he rolled to the side of her, flinging his arm over his face. “Keep looking at me like that and saying shit like that and you’ll definitely be tasting me soon.”

Y/N laughed, and it had him giggling in turn. San wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side, pressing soft kisses to her temple. They gave themselves a few moments to fully catch their breaths before they decided they should clean up and head back out to the party before their friends came looking for them.

He needed to find her something clean to wear and offer to have her dress dry cleaned. He told her as much, but she waved him off, telling him not to worry about it. 

San leaned against the doorframe and watched as she tried her best to tame her hair into something remotely presentable. 

“By the way,” he started, “You’re really loud. I was sure someone was going to come in here thinking I was killing you or something.”

Y/N flushed and looked away from him, embarrassed that he had brought it up after the fact. “Sorry… I get so caught up I can’t really help it…”

San paused, head tilting to the side and grinning softly at her.

“I never said it was a bad thing. Or that I didn’t like it. In fact,” He took a step forward, just close enough to be able to settle a hand on her hip, the other cupping her cheek. “I plan on hearing those sounds again. And seeing just how loud you can get."

——

Tag List:

 @life-is-a-game-of-thrones

[ilariyalavorowrites]

Bright Lights (Chapter 3)

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, Hurt/Comfort, post-divorce healing, Pitt Fest is a warning of its own, medical inaccuracies.

Pairings: Michael Robinavitch x Reader

Word count:  5,410 words

Universe: The Pitt

Reader gender: Female

Tagged: @questionably-intelligent69 , @dizzybee03 , @virgomillie , @mrsjosephmazzello , @sus-styles , @moonshooter , @hagarsays @that-sarcastic-writer , @ddrawers96 , @pear-1206 , @nerdgirljen , @penbridgertonn & @emma8895eb

Part 3 of 4

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6:30pm

As time ticks on, second by second, minute by minute. Frankie can’t help but worry. The uncomfortable plastic of the cheap hospital cafeteria chair digging into her thighs served as a reminder. A reminder of what she had experienced. Pitt Fest had been an incalculable disaster. The whistle of flying bullets had been hard to shut out, as she continued to relive each decision and choice she made. With each passing moment, more found their way here. Family members, friends and the like always with the same burning questions; Are their loved one’s safe? Are they counted amongst the wounded or had they been the unlucky ones?

Frankie couldn’t leave, not yet. She couldn’t return to House 42 empty-handed and without the small sliver of information on the whereabouts of her missing friend and colleague. Guilt gnawed away at her. No-one gets left behind but in less than a second, someone did. The click of heels against the linoleum tiles caught her attention, dragging her out of her depressive thoughts; Frankie lifted her gaze to see two figures approaching where they all waited.

The sight of two staff members had been enough to silence the chatter; all eyes had fallen upon these two women ready to listen as a younger woman approached them. Frankie wasn’t close enough to hear her words but still watched on, noting the pile of papers in their hands. The interaction was brief, but the young woman’s body language spoke volumes, worry and panic overpowering all other emotions, as she was the same boat as all the rest that gathered all around. 

Her eyes tracked them as they crossed into the centre of the cafeteria, where they could be heard easily by everyone.

“Hello? Can I have your attention, please? My name is Kiara Alfaro. I’m an emergency-department social worker.” Frankie was almost certain that she had seen her before; she had never found an opportunity to meet the resident day shift social worker. She only really knew her night shift colleague; he was a right scream but had spoken highly of Kiara praising her calm nature and how she could get almost anyone to open up to her. 

“This is Lupe Perez, one of our ward clerks.” As she continued to speak, Kiara introduced her colleague, the ward clerks were all hardworking, taking the brunt of the frustration of the waiting patients. Each word was loudly and clearly projected to ensure that they were understood by all who listened on.

“I know you all want information about your friends and family. In order to help you, we have a QR Code you can scan for our patient-identification website.” This was the beginning of the next stage with handling the mass casualty. 

“Cell phones are down, but you can log onto the hospital guest WI-FI. That information is on these papers we’ll distribute around the room.” It was understandable that phone lines would be jammed up, with the sheer number of people trying to reach out to their loved ones. Frankie’s phone had already logged into the Wi-Fi network as soon as she had entered the hospital grounds. This was a good sign; it would give people something to focus on.

“Once you log on, send us the name and birth date of whomever you’re concerned about.” She quickly tried to recall the necessary information; did she know her friend’s exact date of birth? The day and month were easy, but the year that might take a moment. As she thought back to her friend’s last birthday, how old had she been? With access to the Internet, she could shoot a message to Captain Valentino, who had direct access to the personnel files, but that would be a last resort.

“If you could tell us what they were wearing, upload photos, pictures of tattoos, piercings, anything to help identify would be useful.” Frankie had been the unofficial photographer of the tent; she had been the one to step up and take more than a few photographs and selfies through the day. Mostly for Instagram and her own personal collection, but a few for the Department to show their involvement as part of the PR and the monthly newsletter; not that many people actually opened that email when it dropped into their inbox. The next one might be an exception.

Frankie had been the one to take her to her first tattoo appointment, so she had photos of it. It had been a special moment since she knew the meaning behind the chosen design. Jake had been the one to help her shape into reality. He had drawn it for her, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to be there as he had class on the date that had been chosen. Frankie couldn’t help but wonder at the sweet relationship that her friend had with the young man. She had wished that she had something when she had grown up.

“If we get a match, we’ll let you know. We’re setting up phone chargers, water, snacks. And if anyone needs to change clothes, we’ve got paper scrubs coming.” Her hands had been covered in blood, that had long since dried, but it didn’t seem overly important to find a bathroom and wash it away as she made her way to the Cafeteria.

“Give us some time. We’re doing everything we can to help get you the information you need.”  Frankie took a second before moving, as a crowd formed around the two tables where the papers had been placed. As she took a seat once more, with the newly acquired document, she began to follow the instructions. Her fingers danced across her phone keyboard as a WhatsApp message popped up on her screen. Another swiftly followed; House 42 was reaching out.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------7pm

“Fuck” The very word was stuck on repeat; Dana could not let Robby see this. Not now, when his attention needed to remain focused. The house of cards could not fall apart at this most crucial of junctions. As more patients flooded into the department, as much as worry was seeping through the cracks in her armour, Dana could not let Robby see the bloodied garment.

The split second decision had to be made, as she placed the jacket and thoughts of its owner aside. Using the moment of a patient being transferred up to surgery as a barrier to try to hide how shameful she felt. She watched where it landed, in the corner of an empty bay. Not that it won’t be unoccupied for long. Her tricky mind conjured countless scenarios, imagining the almost listless ways a mass casualty event could injure someone. Hope was a thin thread that she placed her bets on; Dana knew her. They punched, kicked and spit at her on the job, but still she had kept coming back for more.

She couldn’t say the same anymore; it was getting harder to reflect on the good times, without the awful moments overpowering the rest. Today was the latest in a long line of violence that had pushed over the edge into thoughts of if she was going to come back. If this was all really worth it. There wasn’t even enough time to take a breath between incoming patients. Once the panic subsided, Dana could ponder what came next only after they had attended to all critically unwell patients.

With the stream of gurneys and wheelchairs, the patients had blurred without the coloured wristbands to identify them. Dana wandered would she had missed Robby’s ex-wife in the crush? She had been a close friend in another life. She couldn’t recall the last time that she had met up for coffee and a catch up. Aside from a few brief moments at Central, before another call come in over the airwaves, summoning back to work.

Dana tried to think back to the last time that they had been in the same room. Silence had reigned for months. Robby might not have shouted from the rooftops, but Dana had seen the more subtle signs. Firstly, it had been the ring protector falling by the wayside, then his wedding band vanished from his golden chain, but finally it had been the growing closeness between himself and Heather. It might have a brief few months, but a bond had formed. It had its share of ups and downs, but the damage wasn’t as visible.

The tether had fizzled away; it had been what they both had needed in the moment. Passing affection and physical attraction hadn’t been enough to develop into a more permanent and lasting connection. Princess and Perlah had noted the changes. Quick gossip followed, its impact lessened only by awareness that one relationship ended to begin another.

Black lines that hadn’t been there before floated up to the surface of Dana’s thoughts. A tattoo? She had never questioned the fresh addition, wondering which design had you chosen? Robby had a few, but you had been a blank canvas. 

With her thoughts misaligned, Dana needed to stay calm in the storm’s eye. This was what the department required her to be, even in the hours past the end of her shift. The one who led them through the push, over the edge, straight into no-man’s-land. As the mask slipped back into place, she couldn’t help but frown at the sight of the few heavily armed SWAT teams roaming around the halls. They hadn’t been there a few minutes ago?

This abrupt development put her further on guard. This was far from good news.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------The department was rushed off its feet as soon as one patient would be taken up to surgery or the ICU floor, two additional patients had taken their place. It was never ending; Frank Langdon and Cassie McKay were working in a familiar rhythm formed in the past two years that they had worked solidly side by side. In that time, they had gotten used to the speed that each other worked at, but they had also gotten to know one another on a more professional basis, but tidbits of their personal lives would slip through the gaps now and then. McKay’s centred more around her son Harrison, whereas Langdon tended to ebb and flow with the emotional state of his marriage.

Frank was more aware of the fallout of Robby’s marriage, but Cassie had only met the ex-wife in passing. The connection to Dr Robinavitch fell at the wayside; to McKay, she was just another paramedic who preferred to work nights. On the rare occasion that Cassie was rotated in to cover a night shift, this had been where they crossed paths for the first time. She had seemed nice enough, quiet, but there had been an underlying playfulness that came to the surface whenever Dr Abbot was around. 

There was a story, a history between the pair of them, not that anyone dared to comment on the exact nature of their connection when she had brought it up. It wasn’t worth antagonising Abbot, so Cassie let it go. Never given it much thought, as it had been nearly eight months since her last night shift, Frank hadn’t been as lucky. His last night was less than a week prior; it had been far from an easy shift to boot.

Cassie watched as the next patient was wheeled in, an unconscious female, dressed in what looked like the standard issue trousers worn by paramedics, topped with a once white shirt coated in dirt and blood. Paramedics had been at the Festival in an official capacity, yet her patient seemed familiar, but many crew passed through those doors on a nearly hourly basis. 

“Shit, you know who that is, right?” The sound of Langdon’s voice floated in as he made his way over whilst McKay was midway through her assessment. Cassie shook her head as she continued on, focused on carrying out the basic steps of a complete neurological exam considering her presentation. “Should I?”

“That’s Robby’s ex-wife” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

7:30pm

Frustration was bubbling up within Trinity swiftly returned to the yellow zone. With no attending trailing behind, they were on their own. This was not the outcome that she had been hoping for when she had gone searching for an attending.

“I tried. No attendings available,” she announced as she approached Dr Mel King, who remained at the patient’s bedside, still working on the unconscious man. Trinity moved through, trying to find her next interesting case, whilst keeping an eye out for any available attending. 

“Okay,” she muttered to herself, as she surveyed each patient that she passed by; nothing immediately stood out. One gurney caught her eye; as she made her approach, Trinity slipped on a fresh pair of sterile gloves ready to make her assessment.

“All right” As Trinity slipped effortlessly into doctor mode, as her gaze dropped to the open wounds upon the young man’s legs that Nurse Donnie was cleaning with large pieces of gauze. 

“Okay, those look pretty superficial.” Santos commented as she took in what she could see; the wounds on his leg might be large but were shallow. 

“Might’ve been fragments from a ricochet off the ground.” Donnie replied, as he had been the one tending to the wounds; she listened to his assessment as her mind turned over the information as she worked out the possible next steps.

“Lost a lot of blood, but you’re gonna be okay, bro.” As she carefully lifted up the heavily stained remains of what once had been a trouser leg to inspect the wound for herself. The ease of his interaction spoke of a familiarity with her patient that she had not noticed until this point. Did Donnie know this young man? Trinity was left wondering the possibilities as her mind raced.

“It’s not bad. Just put me back in the wheelchair.” The young man answered; this was not even an option as Santos knew what the outcome might be if they allowed their patient to get out of the bed before his legs were bandaged up. She could not risk his wounds opening further and him bleeding out.

“No, no, stay in bed with your leg up.” She said, before continuing on speaking as she cautioned him bluntly. “We don’t want you oozing to death.” As she left the bedside to see what the other doctors had landed as Javedi helped move another gurney through the department into the yellow zone.

“Samira, what you got?” Trinity loudly asked; waiting patiently for Dr Mohan to answer.

“Opiate OD needs observation after Narcan.” For Santos, that was far too pedestrian, too ordinary and, to put it plainly, boring. Not for her. This was what came with festivals; drugs and overdoses were a dime a dozen but there were more interesting patients than this. There was nothing to learn, no interesting procedures to practise or carry out solo. “Ugh, boring. No, thank you.” Trinity swiftly replied before moving on as she turned her back and walked back toward Mel.

“Mel, how’s Ganja Grayson?” She called out, inquiring about the status of the patient with a newly christened nickname. The man was a true hippie as she walked the few meters back over to the bay. 

“Um, we can put him in pink whilst he waits for ICU.” She listened to the words of her senior doctor, as the man’s condition had continued to worsen since falling unconscious; without the typical methods of investigations available, there was little they could actually do in the here and now. He needed a CT scan, but it would be hours before he could be sent up for one.

“Okay. One second.” Santos curiously watched on as Whitaker moved closer to the patient with a probe that had been plugged into his phone. Yet Samira beat her to the punch, speaking first. “What are you doing?”

“I’m checking the retina.” Trinity patiently watched the back-and-forth exchange, as it seemed that Huckleberry was chasing a cause. He was thinking creatively to find a solution to help Mr Grayson.

“For detachment?” Samira continued on, adding a potential diagnosis to the pile, but Whitaker responded with his own reasoning. As he used the phone screen to measure the distance from one end of the optic nerve to the other. With the swipe of a finger on a touchscreen. “For Intracranial pressure by measuring the optic nerve sheath, which is—holy shit—10 millimeters”  He quickly pulled away with the news of this recent development.

What Huckleberry had uncovered was wild. As Victoria Javedi spoke up, running through the encyclopaedic amount of medical knowledge that was rushing through her mind, much like they all did with each fresh case.

 “What’s normal? 5?” She asked, knowing the answer from the countless neurology seminar and skills labs that they had all attended whilst studying. As they memorised a plethora of textbooks with case studies and long lists of symptoms and treatments outlined in great detail.

“Yeah, 5” Whitaker replied, as the answer unfolded, as Mel was the one to offer up what was the most likely conclusion. “It’s an Intracranial bleed. ”One had they all had swiftly come to with the discovery of the expansion of his optic nerve, it was practically doubled in size! This was becoming a wildly more interesting case than the OD.

“The pressure’s been building up.” Trinity had turned her to listen as Mel continued on with her explanation of Mr Grayson’s condition. “There’s no blown pupil.”

“Yeah, not yet. Trinity replied, knowing that as soon as the pressure reached a critical level, then his pupil would likely blow. But if he keeps bleeding in his skull, he’s going to die.” This was not the moment to sugar coat what was going to occur if they just stood around and did nothing. This man was inching closer and closer to the edge with every passing second.

“Yeah, he needs a one-inch, uh, burr hole in his—with a cranial drill.” Mel spoke through what was needed, stuttering over words as she started to move away from the patient. “I’m just gonna see if neurosurgery’s here.”

“We don’t have time to wait for Neuro.” Trinity watched as Dr Samira Mohan stepped up to the plate, taking over the case. Santos might have a rough around the edge approach to medicine, her bedside manner might need tweaking, but she did not wish to risk her internship on her very first day. For intern to attempt burr holes without the supervision of an attending that was a Grey’s Anatomy level of madness that would quickly hand a one-way ticket to the psych ward. No, thank you. However, she was more than happy to assist if Mohan was taking the lead.

Mohan had rushed off to collect the supplies that she needed, returning the bay once she had what was required to start the procedure. “I got Betadine and a 10cc syringe.” Announcing each step as she continued on. Whitaker had been the one to speak up, asking a basic but necessary question. His tone wavering as he worked through his jumbled up thoughts. “Should we intubate, hyperventilate?”

“Mannitol decreases ICP.” Victoria answered; Trinity was still mentally referring to her as Crash. The nickname was not going anywhere fast. Once she had handed one, she rarely would change it unless continually pushed too. She would count on one hand the number of times that she had altered one of her famous nicknames. Javedi’s reply was factually accurate, as Trinity recalled the effects of Mannitol on the intercranial pressure and the outcome of this situation if the drug was delivered.

However, before anyone could blink; Samira had picked up an IO drill and made her first burr hole, drilling into the side of Mr Grayson’s head to relieve the pressure.

“Holy shit! What the hell?” All at once, the three of them responded in tandem in equal parts shock and horror at what they had just witnessed. An unconventional use of an IO drill to carry out a neurological procedure to administer burr holes and reduce the built up intercranial pressure. This day couldn’t get any wilder. Samira had proven to be more resourceful and more impressive than Trinity’s earlier impression; she wasn’t as stiff as she had initially appeared to be.

“Relieving Intracranial pressure so he doesn’t die.” Samira replied as used the first 10cc syringe, drawing back as Whitaker cut in with his next question. “With an IO drill?” Samira shrugged back, this was the best option that was to hand. Trinity chose this moment to speak up; now that she wouldn’t the first one to attempt such a out of left field procedure, there was no way that she wouldn’t let the opportunity slid by. “That’s sick. I get the next one.”

“Long as it’s not on me.” Trinity wanted to burst out laughing at the patient in the next bay’s words, as normally there wouldn’t be the chance for this kind of interaction. His words might still be more slurred as he slowly recovered from the effects of the overdose, but the meaning was crystal clear.

“What the fuck?” Dr Emery Walsh exclaimed as she leaned over to see Dr Mohan seated at the patient’s side, already performing the procedure. Mohan had caught her gaze briefly before returning to continuing to drain blood. “Draining the ICH with an EZ-IO.” The atmosphere grew tense in the presence of Dr Walsh, the no nonsense trauma surgeon.

“40 cc’s out so far.” Confused by the sight of the unsupervised unconventional procedure being carried out, night shift charge nurse Bridget approached Mohan for an explanation. “Like she said, what the fuck?”

“There was a case report in the 2022 Journal of Emergency Medicine.” Trinity focused on her task of preparing for the intubation, still heard most of Mohan’s explanation. “Patient survive?” The back and forth was not important as she continued on as Samira confidentially spoke through her reasoning for her actions. “Went home neurologically intact.”

Whitaker squeezed his way, with the screen showing the most recent data from the scan. “The optic sheath is back to normal.” 

This was all good news as Victoria noticed that Mr Grayson had began to move. “Starting purposely movements.” Santos slid up with the intubation tube, prepared, ready to step in.

“Ready to intubate.” She announced as Mel then added in her orders as they proceeded forward. “Propofol, Rock, and Mannitol.” There was a rush that came when completing a successful procedure for the first time; she might’ve had a minor role, but still it was still such a head rush.

“I’ll let neurosurgery know. We’ll get him up ASAP.” Emery Walsh was clearly unimpressed with their reckless abandon with the rules, with the standard of care, but she would inform neurosurgery of this latest development as this patient moved further up the list. As she began to walk away, Walsh reach her walkie talkie ready to reach out to Neurosurgery primary lead.

“Incredible save.” Those words, as soon as they were spoken, caused her to turn her head and mutter in response.. “If he lives.” Trinity had made quick of work of inserting the intubation tube and working it past the vocal cords in the moments that followed as they got Mr Grayson ready to head up for surgery.

“I’m in.” She declared, as Whitaker bagged the end and check to see if everything was in the right place. “Uh, end-tidal looks good.” Everything was coming up as a success, as a win. The nursing staff stepped in, ready to get the last jobs ticked off; this was where they stepped off the case.

“Okay, OR team can take it from here.” Bridget said as she effortlessly moved around the head of the bed, mentally running through the checklist that was required before any patient headed up to the OR.

“We need to check on the others.” Mel added as she moved away; Trinity added her two cents in the mix, never missing a beat, as she used a nickname before heading back towards her patient with the leg wound. Knowing the effect that it had on Victoria, knowing that it rubbed her up the wrong way. “I should get back to Pink. Stay Strong Crash.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------Trinity turned her head, noting Mel across the way, standing in front of where some supplies sat on top of a movable station. As she checked with Mel on her thoughts as her patient’s bandage was now sodden, heavy as he had bled through the layers that Donnie had wrapped tightly round. “He bled through his Kerlix.”

It was almost as if she could see the cog turning as Mel shuttered over the words as she considered, then rejected, the possibilities until she landed the right option. “Um…elastic—elastic pressure dressing-yep.” 

“Okay, got it.” She nodded and got to work retrieving her correct type of bandage from the tray with the bandages that sat neatly on top of the station. Plucking exactly what was required to re-bandage the small holes on his lower leg.

“All right. Got a better bandage, and we’re gonna elevate your leg.” Trinity announced as she made her way back over to where her patient was still laying. She places the supplies on the bed, picking up the scissors and begins cutting off the blood soaked old one.

“Do you know what’s happening with my girlfriend? Her name is Leah. She was shot in the chest.” She can understand the worry in his voice, as it trembles when he mentions her name. However, all incoming patients had been assigned a number. Names were not a necessity during a mass casualty event and his girlfriend would have been rushed off to the Red zone if she sustained a gunshot wound to the chest. 

“I’m sorry. We have a ton of patients, and they are only marked by numbers.” Santos tried her best to be as sympathetic as possible as she continued on with her explanation. Her eyes darting between his and the wound as she worked on.

“Robby and Dana were working on her—they were doing CPR.” Now this piece of information that he had freely offered caught her attention. Much like the bloody paramedic jacket had, her mind still would wander back to the name stitched into the fabric. She wanted to chase that hypothetic thread till it was completely unravelled.

“How do you know Robby and Dana?” Santos was curious to find out as she asked, to know more about the people that she would be working alongside for the duration of this rotation.

“Robby and my mom were together for a couple of years, and I would—I would come, and I’d hang out here.” This was the definition of a juicy gossip; Dr Robinavitch seemed like a closed book. With no way to breakthrough that thick protective shell, that doubled as his professional mask. There was more to the man than just the doctor. She noticed his face twist as pain washed over him, as she disinfected and cleaned the wound site.

“Well, I’m sure if they’re helping her, then she’s in great hands.” Her words only meant to reassure his deepening worry. Even with the knowledge gained from this single shift, their combined strength was evident, a force to be reckoned with. “Can you check for me, please?” It was hard not to feel sorry for him; considering all that he had in this one day. “Sure, Of course. Just after I finish this.” She nodded as she agreed to help him out with one small task.

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

8pm

The florescent lights, albeit harsh under normal conditions, were a drop in the ocean on his list of concerns. Dr Jack Abbot, sharp-eyed, thrived in these conditions. A mass casualty was similar enough to working under the threat of a war zone.

This was where he did his best work, where his skills were truly put to the test. He could not ignore the call to action that came over the airwaves, as he listened to his police scanner that sat at his side as he had wound down for the day. All in the knowledge of what this day meant to Robby, an anniversary that no-one who worked through the heights of the pandemic would ever simply put aside. It was locked away, compartmentalised with all the other bad days. Each under lock and key, he was chipping away one at a time with his therapist.

Holding true to his promise to her, his wife and the memory of their life together. The ring on his finger was well-loved, but time had worn away the last restoration. A trip to the jeweller would be scheduled tomorrow, in between shifts. Each wave of new patients, of scared victims, drew him further into his element. With a cool and level head, Jack worked seamlessly with the tight team within the Red zone. Each was a cog in a machine fighting to save each patient from the jaws of death. Mourning each loss in the few seconds between that patient and the next being wheeled in.

Each would be remembered long after this voluntary shift had concluded. His gaze was trained upon his next patient; despite that, it would wander over to Robby now and then. His demeanour had shifted, there was anger that usually lingered far beneath the surface bubbling up. He was burst soon rather than later, but Jake and his fatally injured girlfriend had become the linchpin.

As soon as he had noticed that gurney being pushed through the doors, Jack had clocked the heartbreak upon the kid’s face, knowing that it would be mirrored on Robby’s. He had fought tooth and nail to keep her alive; it was a fruitless, uphill battle. One that he could never get in front of, as the wound to heart was just too severe. He had seen many in the heart of battle, presenting much the same way Jack knew what the outcome would be.

With all the time in the world, there still would be slim chances of coming back from a shot to the heart. Each new unit of blood was a cause of concern; two had been the agreed upon limit, but Robby had quickly reached for another and then the next. That limit had been reached and doubled. He could glean the depths of desperation as clear as day as Robby clutched at every available straw. Holding on the vaguest string of hope, fighting for Leah, for Jake.

There was no happy ending, not this go around. No last-minute miracle solution would be found, this was bare bones reality, not some half-baked medical dramas that his wife had loved, the ones which he sat through season after season for each smile, the laughter and tears that she had circled through. Whilst he pointed out the medical mistakes and inaccuracies. She had once joked that she could turn into a drinking game and be easily under the table by the halfway mark of a single episode. God, he missed her.

His mind would wander in the moments between the screams, but never for long enough for Jack to vanish into the what-ifs. He needed to be in the here and now as the darkness crept closer. It was where he felt most comfortable, out of the light of day. Away from his most painful memories, as they always returned.

The same could be said about Robby; had his own heartbreak manifested as he tirelessly worked on Leah? Had he envisioned his ex-wife beneath his blooded gloved finger tips as he fought to get the girl’s heart to beat once again. Had her image flickered, replacing the young woman for less than a second before switching back. He might hesitate for a split second if she had been wheeled into his care, but thankfully she hadn’t.

Heading up to Neuro ICU

The familiar vocal tones of Dr Frank Langdon could be heard as he moved his latest patient up to the Neuro section of the ICU floor up on the level six. Out of the corner of his eye, Jack caught a sight of the gurney as he made his way back into the heart of the red zone; No, it couldn’t be her lying there. Jack was in no position to chase after Langdon as he disappeared into the elevator shaft.

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

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[comatosebunny09]

first class | sylus

summary: sylus likes to play dangerous games. today, you happen to be his rook piece. warning(s): female anatomy described, explicit language, dirty talk, bodily fluids, exhibitionism, reader's attire is described, profanity, blue balls of the female persuasion, praise kink now playing: devil's advocate - the neighbourhood notes: something i threw in @muvaginger's inbox. i'm sorry for my mind. thank you for reading, lovebugs.

Sylus, but calling you when you’ve just gotten off work.

“Are you home?” he asks, all husky on the other end. He knows you aren’t if the telltale shadow cast by a crow circling overhead is anything to go by.

“Not yet.”

“Well, get there.” Amusement resides in his voice. You have half a mind to tell him off for bossing you around like that. Like you don’t secretly enjoy it.

“Yeah, yeah. On my way.”

You hang up and shove your phone into your pocket. Put your helmet on, throwing your leg over your bike’s seat and settling on the cushion. Start it, the engine purring to life beneath you. After waving goodbye to Tara, you peel off, zipping through the energetic streets of Linkon towards your home.

Inside the lobby, your phone buzzes again. You roll your eyes, shoving your earpiece into your ear as you trudge through the lobby.

“What!” you grate out.

“Moving a little too slow there, kitten.”

If only you could punch him through the phone. You tamp down your anger, switching tactics. “What’s this about, anyway?”

He chuckles low and throaty, the sound of it prickling your brain. “Patience is a virtue.”

You scoff. “You’re one to talk.” Asshole, you add inwardly.

You catch the elevator to the floor where your apartment resides. Slide your key in, easing through the door into your entryway. Barely have time to set your keys down before a sharp rapping snaps your attention to the door.

“Open it,” Sylus orders.

Hesitant, you pivot towards it. Fingers twitch near your hip where your gun’s holstered. Slowly, you reach for the handle, mindful of your steps.

A soft laugh rings in your ear.

“Easy, sweetheart. It’s not an ambush. If I wanted to off you, I would’ve done so by now.”

“I never know with you,” you clip back, turning the doorknob.

After mentally counting to three, you throw the door open and peek outside. Silence and an empty hallway greet you. You glance left and right. Up and down the hall until a large, crimson box catches in your peripheral, seated on your doormat. You fetch it, admiring the black ribbon intricately wrapped around it.

“What’s this?” you query, kicking your door shut once you’re back inside.

“A gift.”

“Another one?”

His tone swims with nonchalance. “What can I say? I enjoy spoiling you rotten.”

You test the weight of the box. Shake it, hearing tissue paper and something heavy stir inside.

“Open it.”

You oblige. Tear the ribbon and top off, eyes curiously raking over the box’s contents. Inside is a long, black trench coat. Beneath that rests a long-sleeved, silk blouse. Deeper still lies a simple miniskirt, and you test its material between your fingers. It all looks and feels incredibly expensive despite its simplicity.

“Put it on,” Sylus instructs through the stillness.  

“What? Why?”

“Because you have a train to catch in—” A brief pause. “One hour.”

“What the fuck? A train? An hour? Sylus—”

“Time is ticking, sweetie.”

The phone clicks with his exit.

You throw the clothes onto your couch, scrutinizing them over folded arms, chewing your lip. It’s 50 degrees out. Where the hell does he think you’re going dressed like this? Does he plan to use you as bait or something?

Your phone buzzes again on your coffee table. You fetch it to see a QR code for a train ticket sitting in your inbox.

“Shit,” you hiss, scrambling for your bathroom to shower. He’s serious. There really is no time to spare.

He’d better have a good reason for being so cryptic.

—

“The second to last car,” he husks in your ear. “Meet me there in five.”

Your lips contort into a scowl. You rip your earpiece out, wending through the train’s other passengers to pursue your goal.

In the corners of your vision, the scenery outside the windows eases by. Greenery nestled beneath the snow, somewhere remote. It’s beautiful. You take time to admire the sights before finding your way to the second to last car.

The door slides shut behind you. It’s quiet, save for the occasional rumble of the train upon the tracks. The passengers here are sparse. It’s a luxury cabin, decked with armchairs, faux plants, and an expensive carpet.

You survey the area, spotting an unmistakable thatch of white nestled in the rear seat. Try to mask your giddiness as you make your way towards the back. It’s been a few days since you’ve last seen him.

Wordlessly, he motions to the seat across from him when you venture to his side, wearing that customary smirk. You plop down, folding your arms. Bite back a smile of your own, favoring a frown.

“What’s this all about?”

Sylus leans back in an easy slouch, and the way he manspreads makes your mouth water. He peers down at you from his nose, draping a long arm over the headrest of his seat. His turtleneck and coat do little to disguise the power of his body. The tendons in his neck dance. Jaw flexes. He motions to your lap with a flick of his gaze.

“Touch yourself,” he rasps.

Your eyes grow comically wide. “Excuse me?!” you hiss, mindful of your volume. Look around to ensure no one’s the wiser to your conversation. No hello. No I’ve missed you. No preamble whatsoever.

His smug look doesn’t waver. “Don’t make me repeat myself, sweetheart.” There’s an underlying edge to his voice. One that doesn’t leave room for argument. Still, you contest him.

“Sylus, there are people here!”

That enraged whisper thing you do—it’s endearing.

Sylus’ eyes darken with something sinister. He hasn’t stopped watching you since the moment you sat down. Hasn’t stopped raking his eyes over your honeysuckle thighs, your hips.

“They can watch,” he drawls with an innocent shrug.

“Sylus!”

“Sweetie, I’m not asking.” Though he bears an expression of amusement, you can tell he means business. Consequences typically follow when you don’t heed him. Delicious consequences.

You swallow thickly. Sylus’ silhouette blurs as you survey the car over his shoulder. There are at least three other passengers here, all seated near the door you came through. More than enough distance between you. Your lover bleeds back into focus, his brow raised in challenge.

With a weighted sigh, you shift to make yourself more comfortable. Loosen the tie of your coat, drawing it open whilst easing your hips forward. Hesitantly spread your legs, feeling Sylus’ optics tuned to your every move. Something hot and sticky has already begun to gather in your panties, and your nipples tighten beneath the frail silk of your blouse.  

He cutely cocks his head to the side when you hesitate. Eyes narrow. “What’s wrong, sweetie,” he croons all low. You feel it coiling in your stomach. “Scared?”

You cut your eyes to him, mouth drawn into a tight line. Of course you are. You’ve never done anything like this. He’s introduced you to all kinds of things. Uncovered fantasies lurking deep in your mind. Discovered all the erogenous zones on your body you never knew you housed, but—

Exhibitionism is new. Dangerous. And somehow, the thought of it makes you wetter.

“Go on,” he soothes. Encourages, irises dipping into a mysterious shade of garnet.

Your body moves of its own volition, spellbound. Thighs part a little more, hands smoothing over plump flesh. You sigh out, leaning back as you drag your nails over the inner curve of your thighs, bunching your skirt up towards your hips. A little more enthusiastic now, teasing your swollen outer labia with the knuckles of your thumbs.

Sylus’ mouth parts slightly. His gaze flickers downward, entranced by the show and the soft hitch of your breath. He looks back into your eyes, clicking his tongue in discovery. Reaches out a sizable hand, leaning towards you with his elbows digging into the pockets of his knees.

“Panties. Take them off.”

Your tummy sparkles with heat. He quirks a brow. He’s serious. It’s not enough to touch yourself like this in public. He wants you bare and exposed, staining the armchair with your heat.

Without a word, you shimmy out of your underwear. Thin and frill as they slide down your calves, over your ankles to pool at your feet. You compliantly deposit them into his hand. A bitten-off growl brews in his chest. He falls back against his seat, stuffing your panties into his coat’s inner pocket for safekeeping. Signals for you to keep going, fully invested in this game.

You repeat the process from before. And it’s a new sensation now, the crisp air of the train car kissing your sticky pussy. You try to think of other things. Try to distract yourself from the smolder of his gaze and how it makes your body hum and your mind fill with smoke.

You think about his fingers instead of yours, stroking down the slit of your pussy. His fingers rubbing at the hood of your clitoris, drawing it back to stroke your pretty, swollen clit. His thumbs sliding over your nipples, causing your back to arch, his tongue laving at the space behind your ear…

Your hips stutter. You stifle a moan. Sylus slides in and out of focus, your vision fogging around the corners. He chuckles amorously, shifting in his seat. “Don’t stop,” he nurtures, eyes burning like a feverish flame. His dick sits heavy in his slacks, slowly hardening and twitching.

You salivate. Knowing that he’s enjoying this as much as you gradually are—fuck. You bite your lip, propping your leg on the chair’s arm. Spread nice and wide for him, your pussy on full display.

You rut against your fingers, your face screwed up in rapture. Legs quiver each time the pads of your fingers bump your messy clit. You construct a rhythm that’s maddeningly slow and torturous. Feel that sparkling rush lazily pooling between your thighs, but it’s not enough. Wanna be filled and stuffed to the brim with cum.

His cum.

A glimpse at Sylus reveals something that makes you throb. He’s touching himself. Humping into the palm of his hand, hot and weighted through the thick layers of his clothes. Fuck. You pulse.

“Syl,” you sob quietly, wetly, wantonly. “Syl, please—”

“Use your fingers,” he breathes all ragged. “Inside.” Angles his head back until it thumps against the headrest. Doesn’t look away, still rucking his hips up into the heel of his palm like the slow undulation of a wave.

You indulge, circling the pucker of your pussy with your fingers. Steadily work one inside, and you sigh, tossing your head back. Caress your tits with your free hand, plucking your nipples to their peaks as you drive your finger in and out. The lewd, squelching sounds you make as you torture yourself causes your walls to clench down.

Sylus’ voice crackles, pouring through the fizzy haze that’s settled over you.

“One more. You can take one more, can’t you, sweetie?”

You moan at how his voice oozes like warm milk and honey. You’re obedient, gradually adding another, pumping in and out. A thick ring of cream collects around your knuckles. It’s still not enough. Never enough.

“That’s my girl,” he lauds, relief in his timbre. “So good for me. So, so good.”

“Sylus,” you sob, fucking yourself a little faster. Wish it were him instead, filling you up and pumping you with the briny edge of his cum. There’s a warm fluid trickling down your leg. Heat spooling in your tummy.

He greedily ingests the sight of you fucking yourself, groaning hoarsely. You’re so close to spilling over the edge, so close to losing yourself to an orgasm. And you would—

If not for the sound of footfalls nearing your position.

“Shit!” you hiss, snapping your legs shut. Work your skirt into some semblance of neatness, throwing your coat over your legs. Your cheeks and neck are aflame, pulse pounding in your throat, pussy throbbing.

You don’t make eye contact as the gentleman passes, too busy looking at your fingers in your lap. He’s none the wiser to the goings on in your section—or, at least, he acts like he isn’t—as he bows with a small smile, slipping through the door behind. Sylus tracks his every move, and if looks could kill…

Your heart thrums heavily in your ears. You caution a glance at your boyfriend, taking in his flushed cheeks, his heaving chest. He’d thrown his coat over his lap to disguise the monster pressing against the seam of his trousers.

You lock eyes. His lips pull into a scowl as he sits up, pitching himself forward. Cants his head to one side, voice abrasive and low.

“Did I tell you to close your fucking legs?”

A thrill racks through you. It’s rare that he curses, only sullying his tongue when he’s upset or too far gone. It turns your stomach to a primordial ooze. Without warning, Sylus gathers himself up, snatching your wrist along with him.

You stumble like a baby fawn to your feet, gazing into those eyes that dwindle like liquid spilled over burning coals.

“We aren’t done here, sweetheart,” he promises with a tense jaw. Tugs you from your seat and down the aisle, all the while fishing for something in his pocket. A quick glance reveals a barcode, and a number printed in bold letters on a bit of plastic. A keycard. The sneaky little…

He peers at you over his shoulder as you both maneuver through the throng of passengers in the remaining cars, back towards the front. Your features warm with a smile. Legs tingle.

You weren’t aware that this train had sleeper cars, but you’re grateful to know it does. Your body buzzes with the prospect of what’s to come. He’s not done with you, indeed.  

hair down | masterlist | nuisance

[devilish-cherry]

ᨳ♡₊➳ jujutsu kaisen x reader

ᨳ♡₊➳ crack with plot

"You hate your job. The pay is bad, your manager is worse, and customers are somehow both entitled and clueless. Just as you finish contemplating whether unpaid breaks are a human rights violation, weird new people keep showing up to the café. They all seem to know each other. Sometimes they talk in cryptic phrases. What the hell is this domain and why do they want to expand it? One time, a man with stitches on his forehead walked in, made prolonged eye contact with you, and then left without ordering anything. You’re pretty sure he was a serial killer. Another time, the one with white hair and sunglasses indoors mentioned a "higher mission", and you’re 90% sure this is how cult documentaries start. One of your regulars only speaks in weird food-related phrases. You assume he has some kind of medical condition, but no one explains anything to you. But you are not about to ask questions, because ignorance is bliss and also job security. And unfortunately, they are all weird and they seem very interested in coming back."

꒰ masterlist ꒱ ₊⊹. ꒰ chapter 3 ꒱ ₊⊹. ꒰ chapter 5 ꒱

ᨳ♡₊➳ or read on archive of our own!

ᨳ♡₊➳ a/n: nanami lovers come get y'alls food

screaming and crying rn thank you all SO much for the wonderful feedback oh my god 😭🫶 i really do appreciate them so much and they really motivate me!! 🥹❤️ i got my tumblr properly set up now and if you wanna ask me any questions about this story or send any of your thoughts, headcanons, etc. i'd love to hear them!!

You could tell it was going to be a bad day the moment Greg the Manager said, "You got this!" before immediately disappearing into the back to not help you.

Greg had a habit of vanishing like a mirage whenever actual labor was required. If someone spilled an entire oat milk latte on the floor? Greg was gone. If a customer started a full-blown argument about why they should get free refills on an espresso shot? Greg had already ascended to another plane of existence. You were convinced that if the café ever caught fire, Greg’s survival instincts would have him teleporting to another country before the flames even reached the register.

Which meant that during the morning rush, when three separate customers decided to be human disasters at the exact same time, you were on your own.

Disaster #1: A guy aggressively insisted that his cappuccino did not have enough foam, despite the fact that it was all foam. You showed him. He stared at it like it had personally betrayed him. Then he said, “No, but like… more.” You fantasized about launching him into the sun.

Disaster #2: Some finance bro tried to pay with crypto. Just held up his phone with a QR code and said, “Do you guys take Ethereum?” You had to explain, with the patience of a kindergarten teacher, no, you do not take Ethereum, that this was just a café.

Disaster #3: An elderly woman came in and asked for “Just a plain coffee, dear.” You gave her a plain coffee. She stared at it in disgust and asked, “Where’s the hazelnut, the cream, the froth, the caramel?” You reminded her she asked for plain coffee. She gasped in betrayal, like you had taken her firstborn child.

It was too early for this. You were suffering.

Then when the morning rush finally slowed, and you had approximately thirty seconds to consider faking your own death, the bell jingled.

You turned, sighed, and mentally braced yourself.

Standing in the doorway, looking like he already regretted every decision that had led him here, was Kento Nanami.

Now, normally, you wouldn’t fear a customer. But Nanami wasn’t just any customer.

Nanami was a man with standards.

He stepped inside with the slow, deliberate movements of a man stepping into enemy territory. His eyes scanned the café—taking in the flickering light in the corner, the questionably sticky floor, the espresso machine currently making noises like R2-D2 in distress.

You watched as his jaw visibly clenched. Then, with the air of a man mentally calculating the exact moment his soul left his body, he turned to you and said, flatly:

“…Coffee.”

His tone carried the weight of a thousand disappointments.

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, already reaching for a cup. “What kind?”

“The kind that keeps me from quitting my job.”

"Ah. Great choice."

You started his order, because Nanami seemed like the kind of man who would sue you if you took too long.

As you worked, you could feel him watching you in the way someone watches a building slowly collapse, calculating how much money it’ll take to fix it. You glanced up and, yep. There he was, observing your entire workplace with the deep, profound disappointment of a man who once believed in something.

“…Is this place even up to health code?” he asked, voice heavy with the kind of exhaustion that only corporate life could instill.

You shrugged. “Depends. Does emotional trauma count as a contaminant?”

Nanami inhaled sharply. Like he had so many follow-up questions, but he already knew the answers would only bring him pain

He rubbed his temples. “How long have you worked here?”

“Too long.”

You rang up the order, but before you could say the total, Nanami narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, gaze snapping to the handwritten tip jar sitting next to the register.

You had labeled it “THERAPY FUND (I Need It).”

Nanami stared at it.

Then, very slowly, he turned back to you.

“Barista,” he said, voice as grave as if he were delivering a eulogy. “Are you underpaid?”

Oh no.

You had expected at least a few minutes of polite small talk before things derailed into an existential crisis. But no. Nanami had walked in, assessed your suffering, and decided that labor rights violations were the only thing worth discussing today.

See, here’s the thing: Nanami was not the kind of customer you wanted asking this question.

Most people just laughed when they saw the tip jar. Some customers tossed in a few coins. Gojo once put in Monopoly money just to be annoying.

But Nanami?

Nanami had stopped functioning. He was just standing there, staring at you like this was a personal attack on his fundamental values.

"I mean…" You glanced toward Greg the Manager, who was still pretending to be useful. "I'm paid exactly what Greg thinks I'm worth."

Nanami followed your gaze. His expression darkened. His head then slowly turned toward Greg the Manager.

Greg the Manager, sensing a disturbance in the force, looked up, and gave him a lazy thumbs-up. “What’s up, man?”

"You are a terrible employer," Nanami stated calmly.

Greg the Manager blinked. "Huh?"

Without breaking eye contact, Nanami asked, "Are you even qualified to be a manager?"

Greg the Manager grinned and shrugged. “Dude, I got promoted because the last manager quit in the middle of a shift. Left a note that just said ‘don’t let the void consume you.’”

"Increase their pay. Immediately," Nanami ordered, taking a slow, deliberate sip of his coffee like this was an organized coup.

Greg the Manager looked at you. Then at Nanami. Then at Candy Crush on his phone, like he was experiencing a full-blown existential crisis.

Finally, after what was possibly the longest pause in managerial history, he sighed and said, "We don’t have the budget for that."

Nanami closed his eyes. Like he was counting to ten so he didn’t commit a crime.

"I see," he said, calm but deadly.

You, deeply entertained but also slightly terrified, just leaned on the counter. "Yeah, I kinda figured that was gonna be the answer."

“Do you need me to unionize this café for you?” he asked, completely serious.

You choked.

“Wh—what?”

Nanami took off his blazer.

Oh god. Oh no. Oh absolutely not.

“I could do it,” he continued, rolling up his sleeves like he was about to commit a felony in the name of labor justice. “It wouldn’t be difficult.”

“No, no, no,” you said quickly, waving your hands in surrender. “I need this job. And more importantly, I need Greg to not fire me for trying to overthrow the capitalist machine during an unpaid break.”

Nanami narrowed his eyes.

“So you don’t even get paid for your breaks?”

You realized too late that you had given him more ammunition.

He put down his coffee and walked around the counter.

Fifteen minutes later…

Despite your best efforts to defuse the situation, Nanami refused to leave. Instead, he took it upon himself to observe the café.

"Uh," you said, watching as Nanami surveyed the espresso machine like a general strategizing a war. "What are you doing?"

"Fixing things," he replied.

And then. He started working.

Like, full-on working.

Nanami had entirely taken over.

He was managing the café now.

Not because anyone had asked him to, but because he simply could not stand the inefficiency.

He organized the supply shelves.

He rewrote the entire employee schedule in under five minutes.

Greg was banned from touching anything mechanical.

He timed how long it took for Greg to actually respond to an employee’s request. (Four and a half minutes. Greg was playing a very intense round of Candy Crush.)

He watched you make drinks without proper training, without proper equipment, and without proper will to live then helped you.

And the best part?

Customers actually listened to him.

At one point, a woman tried to use an expired coupon.

Nanami just looked at her.

And she left without arguing.

You had never seen anything like it.

By the time your shift neared its end, the café had never been more efficient. The line moved quickly, orders were accurate, and for the first time in forever, you weren’t experiencing an existential crisis every five minutes.

Nanami took a slow sip of his coffee. Nodded, approving.

“This could be a functional workplace,” he remarked.

Greg the Manager, completely baffled, finally found his voice. 

"Uh," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "Do you… do you wanna work here?"

Nanami, in the most disgusted tone you had ever heard, responded with a flat:  

"I would rather be hit by a bus."

He grabbed his coffee and headed towards the exit.

Fair.

And before he walked out, Nanami paused at the door, turned back, and said, completely seriously, with the voice of a man who had seen the horrors of corporate greed firsthand and was deeply, profoundly upset that you were willingly suffering through them—

“You deserve better than this place.”

And then he left.

Greg the Manager whistled. “Damn. Do you know if he's single?"

A few days later, your shift had started like any other mind-numbingly average shift.

You were in the middle of contemplating whether or not you could legally refuse service to people who ordered drinks with more adjectives than actual ingredients when you felt it. A sudden disturbance in the atmosphere.

It wasn’t anything obvious, but something about the café suddenly felt... wrong.

The espresso machine sputtered ominously, the fluorescent lights flickered just once, and the muffin guy in the corner finally looked away from his muffin, like even he could sense the disturbance in the air.

The door swung open with all the grace of a police raid.

It was Yuji. Sweet, cheerful, golden retriever in human form Yuji, who usually bounced into the café like he was the protagonist of a slice-of-life anime. But today?

Today, Yuji slinked in like he was some kind of villain in a psychological thriller. His whole posture had shifted—his shoulders squared, his head held high, a smug smirk tugging at his lips like he’d just orchestrated the downfall of a small nation.

Today, something was deeply wrong with Yuji Itadori. 

Yuji Itadori, the human embodiment of sunshine, had walked in looking like he had just finished his villain arc.

The first thing you noticed was the grin. It wasn’t friendly. It wasn’t normal. It was sharp and smug, like he knew things you didn’t. It practically screamed, I would gaslight, gatekeep, and girlboss if given the chance.

You blinked at him.

Then you blinked harder.

Because Yuji, your number-one most harmless customer, now had face tattoos.

And red contacts.

And some kind of makeup that made it look like he had four eyes.

What in the Spirit Halloween was this?

“…Uh. You good?” you asked, hesitant.

Yuji (?) grinned at you, and you immediately regretted all your life choices.

“Barista,” he said, his voice deeper, richer, like the audio settings had been cranked to "Villain Monologue."

“...Yes?”

Yuji (??) tilted his head, watching you with an expression that was just this side of amused. “What pitiful existence is this? Shackled to the whims of labor, toiling away for mere scraps. Your suffering is profound, lowly peasant."

…Huh.

Okay. That was new.

You blinked, internally processing the fact that someone had just called you a lowly peasant in real life. You had encountered a lot of weird customers, but never one who spoke like a Final Boss trying to recruit you to the dark side.

“…You want a drink?” you asked, deadpan.

Yuji (???) tilted his head, smirking. Then, with the audacity of someone who had never experienced the horrors of customer service, he said: “Ah, you are not as foolish as you look. Give me a black coffee."

Wow. Okay. Somebody thinks they’re edgy.

For a second, you considered saying just that, but decided against it, because rent existed and so did unemployment. Instead, you just nodded like the underpaid, overworked soldier you were.

“Sure. One black coffee.”

You had seen a lot of weird things working here, but this? This was a new level of concerning.

The face tattoos, paired with the weird four eyes effect (which you assumed had to be some next-level Halloween makeup), it made him look like he was either an anime villain or a kid who got way too into Hot Topic in 2009. And the way he was looking at you? Like he was already planning your demise? Like he was debating whether he wanted to drink his coffee or use it to summon a demonic entity?

You knew exactly what this was.

Yuji had an alter ego.

And apparently not a fun alter ego, like a guy who only comes out on weekends to party. No, this was a full-blown anime villain alter ego. One that absolutely vaped in the school bathroom and got into fights over stupid things like “who looked at me wrong.”

You didn’t get paid enough for this.

"Make it strong," he sneered.

You stared at him. "Wouldn’t dream of making it weak."

Yeah. You were deeply, deeply concerned.

But, like all things in this job, you simply ignored it and did your job. Because you did not get paid enough to ask questions. With your usual efficiency, you made the black coffee, because unfortunately, that was your job, and placed it in front of him. “Enjoy.”

Yuji eyed the coffee cup like it had personally offended him, then looked at you. “You dare serve me coffee in such a humble vessel?”

You looked at the cup. Then back at him. “You want a goblet or something?”

He smirked. “Ah, you do have some wit.”

You didn’t like how pleased he sounded. He picked it up, and took a slow sip. Then, ever so slightly, his eyes narrowed. His upper lip curled.

“…What the hell is this?” he muttered.

“Black coffee,” you said flatly. “Like you asked for.”

Yuji made a noise of profound offense. “It is bitter.”

Your deadpan stare could have melted steel. “Yes. That’s what black coffee is.”

Yuji clicked his tongue in distaste. “This is an insult.” He shoved the cup back at you like you had personally wronged him. “Remedy this.”

You sighed. “Okay. How about I just add sugar?”

Yuji considered this. Then, begrudgingly, he nodded. “Very well. But do not disgrace my drink.”

You poured in exactly one sugar packet, stirred it, and handed it back. He took another sip—

And then narrowed his eyes, looking at you like you had just personally surprised him. His eyes flickered, as if waging a silent internal war. You swore you saw his jaw tense.

Then, after a very long pause, he muttered, “…Acceptable.”

“Uh. Thanks?”

Before you could even process the fact that you had somehow earned the approval of whatever persona Yuji was currently cosplaying, he turned—and proceeded to roast every single customer in the café. He leaned back against the counter, looking around the café with the slow, deliberate assessment of a man who had already decided he was better than everyone here.

Then, with the confidence of a man who believed himself to be a god, he sneered, “This place is full of idiots.”

Okay. Wow.

You stood there, watching as he proceeded to roast every single customer in the café like it was his divine right.

“That weakling in the corner?” He jerked his thumb toward some poor college student trying to write an essay. “His posture is absolutely pathetic.”

The innocent college student looked up, deeply confused and a bit hurt.

Then he turned to some girl at a table near the window. She looked up, mid-sip of her drink, just in time for him to smirk and say, “You look like you order matcha lattes.”

She gasped in pure horror as if he had personally insulted her entire bloodline.

He sneered at an elderly woman. “Trembling hands, weak posture… You are but a breath away from oblivion, hag.”

Oh my God.

She just smiled at him. “Oh, you kids and your funny little jokes!”

He blinked. Then scoffed and turned away, muttering something about "insufferable fools" under his breath.

At this point, you were begging someone to explain what the hell was happening.

You should stop this. You should stop this.

…But you were also kind of invested.

“Oh look,” he sneered, eyes landing on Greg the Manager, who had been doing nothing as usual. “A man who’s mastered the ancient art of pretending to work.”

Okay, well. That one was fair.

And then he set his sights on the espresso machine.

The espresso machine, naturally, took that moment to emit a guttural, otherworldly groan—one that sounded less like it was brewing coffee and more like it was summoning a demon from the seventh circle of hell.

He stared at it. It hissed.

You swore he narrowed his eyes like he was assessing a battlefield opponent. Then, after a long pause, he let out a dark chuckle.

“…This machine is cursed beyond mortal comprehension.”

You stared at him. "You done?"

He exhaled, clearly unimpressed by the café and everything in it. "For now."

Then, without another word, he turned and walked out the door, exuding the kind of ominous aura that suggested he was about to go stand on a rooftop somewhere and monologue about the nature of existence.

Wonderful. You loved your job.

The café was silent and then, minutes later—

The door slammed open.

Yuji rushed in, breathless, frantic, eyes wide with panic. He looked deeply horrified. He looked like a man who had just woken up from a fugue state and realized he had committed multiple felonies.

“Oh my god,” he gasped, hands on his knees, like he had just sprinted a marathon, and looking at you with absolute devastation. “I— I am so sorry— please, please don’t ban me—”

“...What the hell was that?” you asked, even though, frankly, you didn’t actually want the answer.

Yuji laughed nervously. “Uh. Would you believe me if I said ‘don’t worry about it’?”

“No.”

“Cool! Because, uh, I really can’t explain.”

You stared at him. He stared back.

Then, very slowly, you reached for a rag and began aggressively wiping down the counter.

“Alright,” you muttered. “Not my problem.”

“Wait, seriously? You’re just gonna ignore this?”

“Yuji, I have seen so many things at this job that I actively choose to ignore,” you said flatly. “This is just another one.”

Yuji looked like he wanted to argue. Then he sighed, shoulders slumping. “Yeah, okay. That’s fair.”

Unfortunately for you, this wasn’t the last time it happened.

Because 'Sukuna'—as you’d overheard Yuji frantically whispering to himself—returned.

Twice.

In one week.

You were growing concerned.

The first time, he strutted in like a menace, demanded another black coffee, insulted two customers, and then dipped like he had better things to do.

The second time, he walked in, took one look at Greg the Manager, and muttered, "This establishment is doomed."

Honestly? Hard to argue.

₊⊹. tag list: @alpha-mommy69

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Revolving Around You

Beefy!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your ex, Wanda Maximoff, invites you to her wedding. You have no reason to go, but find a reason to stay.

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, alcohol consumption, and smoking weed

A/N: I really just wanted to write some Natasha fluff and I used the prompt [ wedding ] our muses are sat at the same table at a wedding for a mutual friend

You stared down at the invitation you had received from your long since ex, Wanda Maximoff, she'd be getting married soon. You really didn't talk much with Wanda anymore not since she got together with Vision, but when you did meet up and talk everything was fine.

You weren't expecting this though. Not this soon anyways as you stared down in shock at the lovely scarlet invite to their Spring wedding two months from now. Should you go? She sent the invite so obviously she wants you there, right? You grabbed your phone, scanning the QR code on the invite. It brought you to a page themed in such a way you could only assume it was their wedding theme. You checked off the box to RSVP. You held your breath after hitting send and even once the confirmation came through. Now you had to go through with it.

The ceremony was beautiful. Outside in the blossoming flower fields and apple trees of a rented out pasture. It honestly was a beautiful sight to behold. You'd gone wearing a light blue dress that fell at your mid thigh and a matching pair of open toed heels. Your hair in a half updo of a bun, the rest falling gracefully over your shoulders.

The reception itself was held in a renovated barn on the property. The table you were sitting at you knew no one. Well you didn't know anyone really at the wedding. You knew Wanda, Pietro, Vision, and the parents.

As everyone found their seats a raspy voice called out, “Looks like you're my seat mate for the next however many hours Wanda decides this reception should last.” Your head turned to see a red head, her hair in various braids. She wore a fitting suit that did absolutely nothing to hide all the muscles beneath the fabric. You could see her ear was covered in piercings along with her eyebrow and septum from the profile view you were currently getting. You couldn't help, but stare at the beauty sitting next to you. As you went to respond to the red head, she was shrugging off the suit jacket. The button up and tie she wore were almost the same as your dress. In fact if anyone were to give a quick glance they probably wouldn't be able to tell the difference. She hung the jacket on the chair. Turning towards you and as she rolled up her sleeves, revealing the double sleeves of tattoos on her arms.

“Wow…they're beautiful…” you meant to keep that thought in your head, but it slipped past your lips. A blush adorning your face as you turned away to hide.

“Well thank you pretty girl.” She leaned onto the table, all her attention on you as you downed your drink, suddenly feeling like you couldn't swallow. A chuckle falling past the redhead's lips. “I'm Natasha by the way, what's your name? Though I'll probably stick to calling you pretty girl with a reaction like that.” You looked over to see her smirking, another blush coming to your cheeks.

“Y/N…” you spoke quietly, but Natasha heard and tested it on her tongue,

“Y/N…hmmm I think that's a beautiful name that suits a pretty girl like you.”

A few hours into the reception you and Natasha are talking as if you've known each other your whole lives. Once the dance floor opens up after the first dance, Natasha holds out her hand. “Care to dance, pretty girl?” Her sultry voice finds your ears, sending a shiver through you. You don't speak a word, instead opting to just set your hand in hers. The way her hand held yours felt perfect, it felt right.

Her hand in yours, the other holding your waist as yours sat on her shoulder. She led the dance of you two and everything around you faded away. It was only Natasha. All you wanted to do was lean in and kiss the redhead, but you controlled yourself even though your head was swimming from the alcohol you've been consuming.

“You're, like, really handsome and beautiful.” You blurt out making her chuckle.

“Well pretty girl now that we've both said what we think about each other's appearance maybe we could go on a date outside of this wedding?” She offers cocking the pierced brow at you.

“Where do you live?” you slurred, looking up at her.

“New York.” Your eyes lit up, getting up closer to her face.

“Me too!” She smiled, leading you two outside the reception hall. Grabbing her jacket on the way out, setting it on your shoulders. The air had gotten cold now that the sun was down, but a bonfire was being lit by Vision's brother Tony and Wanda's brother Pietro.

You wanted to go over and get a seat, but Natasha had you against the wall. She wasn't holding you there, but she towered over you as she pulled you closer.

“Are you cold?” She asked in a low voice.

“Only a little. Your jacket is helping and your body heat...” Your voice trails off as you wrap your arms around her waist. You looked up at the redhead who took a hand to your cheek. Her thumb brushing gently over your skin.

“I could warm you up a bit more if you’d like?” You bit the inside of your lip, nodding your head as she pulled you against her, lifting you onto your tip toes as your lips brushed together. “Is this okay?” You didn’t answer verbally as you leaned up further to press your lips into hers. Your hands fisting her shirt and you were sure you wrinkled the fabric, but neither of you could bring yourself to care as you went from a simple kiss to her tongue swiping across your lip asking for entrance. When you opened your mouth for her and her tongue made its way into your mouth you realized she had a tongue piercing too, making you moan into her. She pulled you closer and didn’t pull away until you both were desperate for air.

She looked down at you with a satisfied smile. You knew you probably looked a bit hazy, the alcohol still swimming in your brain. You were normally much more reserved than this, but with everything that was happening you would have let Natasha take you right here in front of everyone and not cared one bit. Instead the two of you shared a handful of slow soft kisses as little whimpers and moans escaped you. It had been too long and you wanted her so badly, but one of your major rules was no sex on the first date and this wasn’t even a first date. This is a first meeting.

After Natasha had her fill with kissing you she pulled out a joint, flicking a lighter to it until you saw the paper start to burn, red glowing as she inhaled. As she exhaled she looked up towards the sky. You watched the cloud of smoke leave her lips, your jaw slack as you watched feeling a dampness pool between your thighs.

When Pietro came over he handed you a drink and asked if he could take a hit from Natasha who didn't mind as the two caught up. You stood there in awe, downing your drink, as the two went back and forth with the joint and with conversation.

Eventually the three of you made your way over to the bonfire. Wanda sat on Vision's lap as stories were told amongst friends and family. Natasha had sat down and practically mirrored Wanda when she pulled you to sit on her lap. You bit the inside of your lip as she held you against her, carrying on in her conversations. Your eye caught Wanda's, a knowing smirk on her face making you huff and look down.

“What's wrong pretty girl?” You felt Natasha's cheek press against your arm.

“Nothing…” you tried to lie, but she gripped your hip tight. A moan wanting to rip through you. “W-Wanda was looking…” you quietly admitted.

“Didn't the two of you date for a bit?” You nodded in response. “I'm surprised she let you go for someone like him.” Your head turned to face her. “Wanda's my best friend, but I think she's stupid for letting you go.” You felt your whole body go hot and a puddle between your thighs.

“T-thanks Natasha.” You spoke shyly, turning yourself more into her, burying your face against her. The alcohol was wearing off and you were getting tired without more being added into your system.

“Get comfy sweetie. I'm gonna keep talking with my friends.” Natasha's hand found your back, pulling you close. Her other arm hooking around your thighs to hold you there. You smiled against her. You thought this whole thing would be disastrous seeing your ex getting married, but meeting Natasha and getting to spend the whole evening together. Getting to kiss her and her just holding you in her arms. You hadn’t felt this happy or this secure in...you couldn’t even remember how long. You slowly fell asleep against her chest, listening to her heart beat, the sounds of people talking and the bonfire crackling.

[fullsandwichmiracle]

friends with benefits but joost is a bit toxic 🙏🙏🙏

You only call me when it's half past five

Paring: Joost Klein x female!reader 

Description:Y/N and Joost had been in a friends-with-benefits relationship for a while, but when Y/N saw him kiss someone else right in front of her, a wave of jealousy hit her hard. Feeling hurt and frustrated, she stormed out, seeking solace in the arms of another. Though the stranger’s affection offered temporary relief, it couldn’t compare to the magnetic pull Joost had on her.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, cigarettes, angst, rpf

Word count: 3 k +

You were nestled in bed, engrossed in your favorite show, when your phone suddenly lit up. It was Joost. With a sigh, you paused the show and grabbed the phone.

"Hey, Joost. What's up?" you answered, curious about the late-night call.

"Hi Y/N, what are you up to?" Joost's voice came through, noticeably slurred and tipsy.

"I'm just relaxing in bed, watching some TV. What's going on with you?" you replied.

"I'm at this wild party at a friend's place," Joost said, his excitement palpable even through the phone. "You should totally come."

A grin spread across your face. "You know I can't resist a good party. And my FOMO is off the charts. Send me the address, and I'm there."

Joost chuckled, knowing he had you hooked. "I knew you'd say that. I'll text you the details right now." 

He hung up before you could say anything more. With a sigh, you pressed play on your show again before you swung your legs out of bed to get ready for the party.

Opting for a casual look, you chose a black tube top and a flowy long white skirt that was slightly see-through in certain lighting. It was just a random house party, after all, but you still wanted to look effortlessly stylish. Your phone lit up again, this time with a text from Joost containing the address of the party.

Turning off the TV, you rummaged for drinks to bring along. You found a shot and downed it immediately, not wanting to show up completely sober. You grabbed a few more shots and a variety of canned drinks and put them in a bag, ready for the party. 

You picked up your phone, took a selfie as you downed another shot, and sent it to Joost with the text, “Ready!”

With a buzz of excitement, you gathered your drinks and slipped on a pair of comfortable shoes. After a final glance in the mirror, you grabbed your keys and headed out the door.

The party wasn't far away, so you decided to walk to the nearest electric scooter. The cool night air felt refreshing as you approached the row of scooters, selecting one and scanning the QR code to unlock it. 

With a slight thrill, you hopped on and zipped through the streets, the city lights blurring around you. The anticipation of the party mixed with the freedom of the ride made you feel alive. 

As you approached the house, the sounds of laughter and music grew louder, guiding you to your destination. You parked the scooter nearby and walked up to the front door. Out of courtesy, you knocked before stepping inside. The house was crowded, but every face was familiar. 

You searched the kitchen for a spot to set down your drinks, and as you closed the fridge and popped open a can, you caught sight of Joost guiding a girl toward another room. Although you and Joost had a casual friends-with-benefits arrangement and nothing exclusive, it still stung to see him with someone else, especially tonight. You couldn’t help but wonder why he’d invite you to the party only to focus his attention elsewhere. 

You trailed behind, observing Joost lead her into the heart of a lively dancing crowd. Instead of joining them, you headed toward a nearby couch where a group was engaged in a drinking game. You plopped down and asked, “Mind if I join in?”

As you joined the drinking game, the laughter and lightheartedness of the group momentarily distracted you from Joost and the mystery girl. But your eyes kept drifting back to them, watching as they swayed together in the dimly lit living room. You tried to shake off the uneasy feeling, reminding yourself that you and Joost weren’t exclusive. Still, something about the situation didn't sit right with you.

A few rounds later, after downing more than a couple of shots, you decided you’d had enough of the silent torture. You weren't the type to just sit back and let things fester. Gathering your courage, you stood up, excused yourself from the group, and made your way through the crowd toward Joost.

You found him leaning against the wall, his arm draped lazily over the girl’s shoulders as they talked in hushed tones, their faces close. Your heart pounded in your chest as you approached, but you steadied yourself, determined to confront him.

“Joost,” you called out, loud enough to be heard over the music. His head turned slightly in your direction, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment. 

He smirked, but instead of acknowledging you, he turned back to the girl and said something that made her giggle. Irritation flared inside you. You stepped closer, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

“Joost,” you repeated, your tone firmer this time.

Finally, he glanced at you, his smirk still plastered on his face. “Hey, Y/N. Having fun?”

You crossed your arms, trying to keep your composure. “What’s going on? You invited me here, but it seems like you’re more interested in... other things.”

Joost raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your frustration. He glanced at the girl beside him, then back at you. “Oh, come on, Y/N. We’re just having a little fun. No need to get all serious.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could get a word out, Joost leaned in and kissed the girl right in front of you. It wasn’t just a peck either—it was a deliberate, slow kiss, meant to provoke.

Your heart sank as you watched them, feeling a mix of anger and hurt. Joost had always been playful, but this was different. He was doing it on purpose, knowing it would get under your skin. And it worked.

As they pulled apart, Joost looked at you again, his eyes gleaming with a teasing challenge. “Don’t be mad, Y/N. You know we aren't exclusive”

The girl glanced at you, her expression unreadable, but she didn’t move away from Joost. Instead, she stood there, almost as if she were waiting to see how you’d react.

You felt a burning need to say something, to do something, but a part of you hesitated. This wasn’t what you’d signed up for. The casual nature of your relationship with Joost had always been comfortable, but now it felt like he was pushing boundaries just to see how far he could go.

Taking a deep breath, you finally spoke, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “You know, Joost, this is just cruel.”

Joost’s smirk faded slightly, as if your words had hit a nerve. But before he could respond, you turned on your heel and walked away, pushing through the crowd. You didn’t know where you were going, but anywhere was better than standing there, feeling humiliated.

You found yourself outside on the porch, the cool night air hitting your flushed cheeks. You leaned against the railing, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. 

As you stood there, lost in thought, you felt a presence beside you. You looked up to see one of the guys from the drinking game, his expression concerned.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You okay?”

You forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just needed some fresh air.”

He nodded, leaning on the railing beside you. “Joost can be a real jerk sometimes. Don’t let him get to you.”

His words brought a surprising sense of comfort, easing the tension that had been building all night.

"Want a cigarette?" he asked, pulling out a pack and offering it to you as he took one for himself.

You nodded, taking one from the box and placing it between your lips.

He lit his cigarette first, the flame briefly illuminating his face, then leaned in to light yours. The warmth of the lighter’s flame brushed against your skin, and your eyes met his for a moment longer than you expected. There was something in his gaze, something playful and inviting, that made the tension in your chest ease just a bit more.

As you both exhaled that first drag, the smoke curled up into the night air, mixing with the muted sounds of the party behind you. You took another drag, feeling the calm slowly settle in.

“So,” he began with a teasing grin, “do you always make such dramatic exits at parties, or is tonight a special occasion?”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes as you leaned back against the porch railing. “Only when the party’s worth it,” you replied, smirking. “Though I needed a good reason to escape that mess inside.”

He laughed, a warm sound that seemed to wrap around you. “Well, if you’re looking for an escape, I’m pretty good at keeping people distracted.” He leaned in just slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh yeah? And what kind of tricks are we talking about?”

He took a slow drag, his eyes never leaving yours. “I could start with some bad jokes, move on to charming conversation, and maybe—just maybe—end with something more interesting.” His gaze dipped briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes, the suggestion clear.

You felt your pulse quicken, the playful tension between you growing. “Bad jokes, huh?” you teased, trying to ignore the way his attention was making your heart race. “You must be a real pro.”

“Only when I’m inspired,” he shot back, his grin widening.

You laughed softly, the sound mingling with the crackling of your cigarettes. There was something undeniably magnetic about him, something that made it easy to forget the mess with Joost inside.

Before you could think too much about it, you took a step closer, closing the small gap between you. “Well,” you said, your voice a little softer, “maybe you can show me one of those tricks right now.”

He didn’t need any more encouragement. His eyes flickered with interest as he leaned in, the world around you fading until it was just the two of you on that porch. You could feel his breath against your lips, the anticipation crackling in the air. And then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he closed the distance and kissed you.

The kiss was warm and gentle at first, testing the waters, but it quickly deepened as you responded, your hand moving to the back of his neck. His free hand found your waist, pulling you closer, and for a moment, everything else vanished—the noise from the party, the tension from earlier, even the lingering thoughts of Joost. All that mattered was the feel of his lips on yours and the way he was holding you as if he didn’t want to let go.

But the moment was shattered when the door to the house swung open. You broke the kiss and pulled away, feeling the heat of the moment, but as soon as Joost’s voice cut through the air, your heart sank. You looked over the guy’s shoulder to see Joost standing in the doorway, his expression a mix of surprise and something else—something that made your stomach twist with uncertainty.

“Y/N,” Joost said, his voice cool and controlled, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. He stepped onto the porch, his eyes drifting lazily between you and the guy beside you, who still had his hand on your waist. “Didn’t think you’d move on so quickly. Guess I underestimated you.”

The comment was sharp, laced with a mocking edge that sent a wave of irritation through you. You stepped back, putting some distance between yourself and the guy, who was now looking at Joost with a raised eyebrow, clearly sizing him up. But it wasn’t the guy beside you that had your attention—it was Joost and the way he was looking at you, like he was toying with you.

“Joost,” you started, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you. “What do you want?”

He chuckled, a low, almost condescending sound, as he took a step closer, completely ignoring the other guy. “I just came out to get some air, but it looks like I walked in on something... interesting.” His eyes flicked to your lips, then back up to your eyes. “So, is this what you do now? Kiss random guys at parties?”

You felt your cheeks flush with a mix of anger and embarrassment. “And what about you?” you shot back. “You were the one all over that girl inside, or did you forget?”

Joost’s smirk widened, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “Oh, I didn’t forget. But I wasn’t expecting you to get so jealous. I mean, it’s not like we’re exclusive or anything, right?”

The words stung, and Joost knew it. He was pushing your buttons, testing how far he could go. The guy beside you, sensing the tension, took a step back, clearly realizing this was between you and Joost.

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your composure. “Why did you even invite me here, Joost? To play games? To mess with my head?”

He shrugged, his gaze never leaving yours. “Maybe I just wanted to see what you’d do. I like keeping things interesting.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, refusing to back down. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his smirk softening into something more genuine as he closed the distance between you. “But you like it, don’t you? You like that I keep you guessing.”

He was so close now that you could feel the heat radiating off him, his presence overwhelming. Part of you wanted to push him away, to walk back into the house and leave him standing there. But another part of you—the part that had always been drawn to his teasing, his unpredictability—couldn’t bring yourself to move.

“You know,” Joost continued, his voice low as he reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, “you’re not the only one who gets jealous. Seeing you with him...” He nodded slightly toward the guy who was now leaning against the porch railing, watching the interaction unfold. “It made me realize something.”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “And what’s that?”

“That I don’t like sharing,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper as his fingers trailed down your cheek. “Especially not when it comes to you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the intensity in his eyes making your breath hitch. He leaned in closer, his lips just a hair’s breadth from yours, his teasing smirk still in place.

“You like being teased, don’t you?” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “Admit it, Y/N. You love it when I push your buttons.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could say anything, Joost closed the gap, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both demanding and intoxicating. This kiss was different from the one you’d shared with the other guy—it was filled with a fiery possessiveness, as if Joost was staking his claim.

Despite yourself, you found yourself kissing him back, your hands gripping the front of his shirt as you pulled him closer. It was infuriating how easily he could get under your skin, how much you craved this dangerous dance between you two.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, you were both breathing heavily. “See?” he whispered, his voice a mix of arrogance and affection. “You can’t resist me.”

You bit your lip, trying to regain some control. “You’re such a jerk,” you muttered, but your words lacked conviction.

Joost chuckled softly, pressing a quick, teasing kiss to your lips before pulling away slightly, his eyes still locked on yours. “Maybe, I am” he agreed, “but you like it”

Just as you were about to respond, the other guy cleared his throat, reminding you both that he was still there. Joost glanced over, his smirk returning as he gave the guy a mocking nod. “Thanks for keeping her company. I’ll take it from here.”

The guy rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, instead giving you a small, understanding smile before turning to head back inside, leaving you and Joost alone on the porch.

As the door closed behind the other guy, the night air seemed to grow still around you and Joost. The intensity of the moment hung heavy between you, and you could feel Joost’s gaze on you, sharp and possessive. He didn’t let go of your hand, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles on your skin.

He leaned down, his lips trailing along your neck, sending a shiver through your body. A soft whimper escaped your lips; you were powerless against him, and he knew it. He had you wrapped around his finger, completely at his mercy. You wanted something real, a relationship that meant more, but deep down, you knew he saw you as nothing more than his toy, something he could enjoy on his terms, whenever he pleased.

As his lips continued to explore your neck, each kiss igniting sparks under your skin, you felt the bittersweet ache in your chest intensify. You were caught between the intoxicating pull of his touch and the painful truth that settled in your mind: you were just a fleeting pleasure for him, a secret indulgence.

Joost’s hands roamed over your body with a practiced ease, every movement claiming more of you, making it harder to remember why you wanted something more. His teeth grazed your skin, drawing another helpless whimper from you, and a low, satisfied growl rumbled in his chest.

“You like this, don’t you?” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with arrogance. “You like being my toy”

You couldn’t deny it. The way he made you feel, the way he dominated every part of you, was intoxicating. But it wasn’t enough. You wanted more—more than just stolen moments and empty promises. You wanted to be more than just his plaything.

But as his hands gripped your hips, pulling you even closer, you felt your resolve waver. It was so easy to give in, to let yourself be swept away by the heat of the moment, to forget everything else.

Yet, deep down, the truth gnawed at you. This was all he was willing to offer, and as much as it hurt, you knew you were powerless to change it. The thought stung, but the way he held you, the way he touched you, made it so hard to resist. You were trapped in a dangerous game, one that left you longing for more even as you knew you’d never have it.

Joost pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours, a smirk playing on his lips. “You’re mine,” he repeated, his voice a possessive growl, as if daring you to deny it.

And despite everything, despite the yearning for something real, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. Instead, you nodded, your voice barely a whisper as you replied, “Yes, I’m yours.” 

But even as the words left your lips, you knew they carried a weight that neither of you fully acknowledged—a truth buried beneath the surface of a relationship that was anything but simple.

[lanalosty0uu]

⋆.˚ chapter iv: take on me ᝰ.ᐟ

previously on: 🕰️ BACK TO THE FUTURE 🕰️

"Don't worry," he says with an easy confidence. "We'll figure this out. But first, let's make sure you don't look like you're from outer space."

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main masterlist | general masterlist

pairing: steve harrington x fem! reader

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The next morning, Steve takes you to Melvald’s General Store, their first stop on your journey to adapt to 1985. The whole vibe of the store amazes you, it was all retro-y, filled with posters and neon lights all over, just like what you’ve always imagined.

“You’re gonna drool over if you kept your mouth open.” You didn’t realize that you’ve been keeping your mouth open in awe at the store.

You can tell Robin and Dustin was looking at you weirdly, knowing that this is just some regular clothing store. But not for you. For you, there is nothing more magical than being in an 80s clothing store, filled with retro and disco like clothes hanging all over.

The jingling of the old-fashioned cash register catches you off-guard, and she marvels at the analog setup. There was even no card scanner! Or a QR code for cashless payment.

Steve raises an eyebrow, clearly amused when you slightly walked over to the cash register. “Welcome to the world of cold, hard cash,” he teases, handing her a few bills for small essentials.

From there, they head to another local thrift store, where Robin joins them, ready to make an event of it. The air is filled with the scent of worn leather and old fabric as Robin rummages through the racks, dramatically holding up an oversized blazer with shoulder pads. “Future girl, this screams power suit,” she jokes, earning a giggle from you.

Even Steve and Dustin helped to find you a nice pair of clothing for you to wear today, and at least a few days to come since they know it won’t be easy to fix that watch.

After much trial and error, some of it clearly for Robin’s amusement, you settle on high-waisted jeans, a striped crop top, and a denim jacket. Steve insists on adding a pair of white sneakers to complete the look.

“You’re officially a Hawkins local,” he declares with a grin as you twirl in front of the mirror, amazed of yourself. Sure, in 2025 people still dress like this. But this… All this felt so different for you. The whole vibe, the people, everything just felt like what you’ve always dreamed of.

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“Okay, so… since you’re from the future, I’m guessing you already know stuff that happened in the 80s, correct?” Dustin asked. We were just chatting on the backseat of Steve’s car, whilst Steve was driving to to the arcade, Robin sitting on the seat next to Steve. Dustin requested to take you to the arcade, wanting to show you the amazing stuff that happens on the 80a.

“Like… what, exactly?”

“Music! You know what I mean?”

“Like… Madonna and shit? Blondie? The Runaways?”

“Yeah, yeah! Like that!” Dustin was amazed when you said all those famous names.

“I’ve listened those on Spotify, kid. So… I’m not that stupid for a person who’s a maniac about the 80s.”

He looked at me confused when you said ‘Spotify’, as if asking for explanation about it without telling you.

“It’s like a music platform, you know? In this.” You showed my phone to him, unlocking it, and opened Spotify. You began searching for my downloaded playlists since you got no internet service here and played Take On Me by a-ha.

“Whoa…” Dustin let out an amused laugh. You even caught Robin’s attention. “I thought you said that’s a phone?”

“Yeah, it is! Except it’s not just for calling, and sending messages. You can listen to songs, watch movies, call people and see them through the phone, read books and magazines online, and many more!”

Your explanation about your phone caught all their attentions, including Steve, while you remind him to keep his eyes on the road.

“You’ve played Pac-Man?!” Dustin exclaimed. You tried to explain to him that you also played it on your phone.

“Oh you’ll never beat Steve. See that? That’s the highest score. And who does that belong to? Steve Harrington.”

“Oh, so the sailor likes to play Pac-Man…” You teased Steve who just entered the arcade after parking his car.

“Well, good luck on trying to beat that, future girl.” Steve challenged you, making you raise your eyebrows.

“Might as well let me try to beat your ass, Harrington.” You pulled up your jacket sleeves and began playing Pac-Man, just like what you always knew. You have to make Pac-Man eat up all the yellow stuff and make sure not to get caught by the ghosts.

On the first try, your Pac-Man was cornered by the ghosts already, and the screen immediately flashes GAME OVER.

Steve smirks. "Not as easy as it looks, huh?"

"Let me try again!" you insist, and to Steve's surprise, she improves quickly.

By your third try, you beats his high score, and the group gathers around, cheering her on.

"Looks like the newbie's got skills," Dustin says, impressed.

“Fun fact, there will be a Pac-Man movie in 2015. It’ll be called ‘Pixels’.” You said, smirking at Steve who seemed to be annoyed.

Steve, pretending to be annoyed, mutters, "Beginner's luck." But there's a glint of pride in his eyes as he watches your grin in triumph.

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As the night falls, the rink lights dim slightly as the disco ball spins, casting a cascade of shimmering lights across the floor. Dustin and Robin let Steve be your guide for tonight in the skating rink, since Steve is such a good skater deep down. Meanwhile, you and Steve sit side by side on the edge of the rink after their dramatic fall, catching their breath between fits of laughter.

The faint buzz of 80s pop hits fills the air, but you are hyper-aware of Steve’s shoulder brushing against hers and the way his smile lingers as he glances her way.

“You okay there, klutz?” he asks, nudging her lightly.

“Oh, I’m the klutz?” you retort, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the one who dragged me into that spin of death.”

Steve chuckles and raises his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, you almost nailed it. I’d give it a solid six out of ten.”

“Wow, generous,” you mutter, rolling your eyes but smiling all the same.

Steve leans back on his elbows, looking out at the rink. “You’re actually not bad, though. For someone who didn’t even know how to skate, you’ve got potential.”

You tilt your head, watching him curiously. “Well that’s encouraging.” You gave him a sarcastic look.

You’re about to press him further when he stands up, brushing imaginary dust off his jeans.

“Come on,” he says, holding out a hand. “We’ve got time for one last lap before they kick us out.” You hesitate, staring at his outstretched hand. Your eyes moved to his, watching those brown eyes carefully. There’s something in his eyes, a warmth, a quiet sincerity that makes her heart skip a beat. Slowly, you place your hand in his, and he pulls you to your feet, steadying you when you wobble.

Both of you step back onto the rink, and this time, you feel a little steadier. Steve skates alongside yourself, pacing slow but steady as the music shifts to a softer, dreamier track. The glow of the disco ball reflects in his eyes, and for a moment, the rest of the rink seems to blur away, it was like you’re the only ones left in that rink.

“You know,” you say quietly, breaking the comfortable silence between them, “I never really had nights like this. Back home, I mean.”

Steve glances at you, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

You shrug, looking down at your purple skates. “I was always so focused on everything… school, responsibilities, the future. I never let myself just… be a teenager. Not to mention the strict parents.” You sighed, looking at his eyes. “It’s not as fun to live in the future like they said.”

He nods, a knowing look crossing his face. “Yeah, I get that. I used to be so caught up in trying to impress people, be the king of Hawkins High or whatever. But looking back? None of that stuff really mattered. This…” He gestures around them, his gaze landing back on you. “this is the kind of stuff that sticks. The moments you don’t plan.”

His words hang in the air, and you feel a pang of something you can’t quite name. Nostalgia for a time you only just started experiencing, maybe, or the bittersweet knowledge that moments like this are fleeting.

“I think you’re right,” you admits, your voice soft.

You skate in silence for a while, the music wrapping around them like a warm blanket. Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper playing vividly. You find yourself stealing glances at Steve, noticing the way his jaw clenches in concentration as he avoids an oncoming skater or the faint curve of his smile when he catches you looking.

At one point, Steve slows to a stop in the middle of the rink and turns to face you. “Alright, future girl. Let’s try one more spin.”

You groan at his request. “You’re relentless.”

“Come on, it’s your redemption arc,” he teases, his grin widening.

With a sigh, you let him take your hands, and attempt another spin. This time, it’s less of a disaster, though you still stumble into him at the end, your hands clutching his jacket for balance.

“See?” he says, his voice low. “Told you you’d get it.”

Your faces are close now, closer than you’ve been all night. You can feel the warmth of his breath, the faint scent of cologne lingering in the air between them. Your heart pound in your chest, but you can’t bring yourself to look away.

“Thanks,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the music.

“For what?” Steve asks, his expression softening.

“For this. For making me feel like I belong here,” you said.

He smiles, a genuine, almost shy smile that catches you off guard. “You do belong here. More than you think.”

The moment stretches out, the world around them fading into the background. You aren’t sure what’s supposed to come next, but you knows one thing.

For the first time since you arrived in 1985, you don’t feel like a stranger.

note: another chapter, yay! you really can see what i meant by the next chapters will be interesting, yeah? so happy i can finally finish this chapter ^^ hope u guys enjoyed it and stay tuned for the next ones <3

taglist: @xprloki @pupwrites @gorlillaglue25 @lovestrucklyuniverse @keerysfolklore @www-interludeshadow-com @pleasantsoulcolor @mochminnie @steviespookie @damon-loves-pie @imjustdreamingig @starkleila @2602moon @negomi123 @currentresidentinhell @ucannotcompare @lilgreensunshine

if there's anyone who wants to be tag as well, feel free to ask <3

[planetkiimchi]

the first drops of rain | k.mg

summary — mingyu's your first love. your first date with him could be described as fairytale like, at least until it begins raining. even then, maybe the rain is a paid actor, teaching you to slow down in your fast-paced student life.

featuring: mingyu x gn!reader, highschool au

word count: 2729 words

a/n: first seventeen work! kinda thought my first svt work would be seokmin or minghao but HAHA we’re here instead with a mingyu work. it’s based off a very precious memory of mine, and i felt like mingyu’s personality was the most similar to the guy i went out with <3

mingyu: we’re meeting at the start of the trail at 9, right?

You react to his message with a thumbs up, pulling up your shoes and glancing outside. The start of the trail is only a few hundred metres away from your house, so you’re not in a rush.

Mingyu asked you out on this date a few months ago, but you were overseas during the winter break, and weren’t able to go out with him. After a few months of discussing where to go, you finally settled on going cycling with him.

The sun rose quite a while ago, and the temperature is rather warm, but you figure that it’ll all be fine.

You check the time again and head downstairs, cycling over to the subway station to meet Mingyu.

You’re a few minutes late, so you expect to see Mingyu waiting there when you arrive, an apology already on the tip of your tongue, but you’re surprised when he’s not.

In fact, you have to wait another ten minutes before he finally arrives, a little out of breath and completely lost, without a bicycle. He smiles sheepishly at you, tucking his hands into his pockets.

He mumbles a “sorry”, curly hair falling in his eyes as he looks earnestly at you, shoulders raised in his nervousness.

Your annoyance at his tardiness dissipates once you see him in this state, genuinely apologetic and well-meaning. You let a soft sigh escape your lips. It’s okay.

Mingyu raises his phone and hesitantly says he needs to pick up his bike.

You’re about to reply when an old lady comes up to you, one hand clutching her grocery stroller. She politely asks if you know where the Flower Market is?

You nod. It’s right next to your apartment block, and you often go there to buy groceries yourself. You point the lady in the direction of the market, turning back to Mingyu.

Once again, before you can speak, Mingyu jerks his head at the stairs that the old lady has to climb up to get out of the subway station and onto the pavement. She lifts up the grocery stroller, and you rush to help her with it.

She smiles at you. Thank you.

You smile back. No problem.

Tilting your head towards the stairs, you beckon Mingyu to follow. The bicycles are located at the lowest level of the apartment block directly opposite yours, so you’re heading in the same direction as the lady anyway.

Once you’ve helped the old lady get her stroller up to the top of the stairs, you wave goodbye to her, prepared to head back down the flight of stairs to get your bicycle.

Fortunately for you, you don’t have to. Mingyu holds your bicycle in his hands, setting it down at the top of the stairs, and your heart warms, just a little.

It takes a longer time to figure out how the bike sharing system works than you thought it would. Mingyu scans the QR code on the back of the bicycle, frowning as he navigates the app, trying to figure out how the payment works. You stand to the side, holding on to your bicycle’s handlebars, watching his eyebrows knit themselves into a knot, before the wrinkles in his forehead slowly iron out when he finally gets the app to work.

All set? you ask.

Mingyu nods. All set.

You climb onto your bicycle, eager to head off, and Mingyu follows behind.

With the sun beating down on your backs, the two of you start off on the trail, figuring out a pace that works for both of you. You haven’t cycled in a long time, and you can’t go too slow, or you’ll be too unsteady for both of you to ride side-by-side on the narrow path.

The greenery on both sides of the trail helps to keep the temperature down, and you’re grateful for the shade it provides in the heat of summer. Next to you, Mingyu asks how school has been. You reply with one of those blasé “school is good” type of answers, but he doesn’t accept that.

Mingyu keeps prodding.

And, with your feet pedalling hard underneath you and the glare of the blue sky overhead, you find yourself opening up.

It’s started drizzling slightly when you reach the bicycle racks, so you chain your bicycles up and head to the nearby subway station to seek shelter. While you’re standing there, you ask Mingyu where he wants to go.

Originally, you wanted to go to watch a movie, but since the date was so impromptu, you didn’t check the movie timings out beforehand, so now you realise that none of the timings are convenient for you.

It’s fine, Mingyu insists. He’ll figure something out.

It doesn’t take long before he’s dragging you down another path you didn’t notice earlier, one that leads to a train station that’s no longer in use. Two carriages of the trains are left on the tracks as a memorial to the old train station, and despite the red tape covering the doors, Mingyu climbs up into the carriage.

You’re standing on the edges of the train tracks, watching him grin at you from inside. He leaps from the seat with a yelp, almost knocking his head, and he quickly exits the carriage.

What’s wrong? you ask.

He lifts his hand to show you that the seat was wet.

You laugh whole-heartedly and he pouts, but the joy in his eyes betrays him. His poorly-concealed excitement only grows when he looks ahead to see a bridge, breaking out into a run towards it.

You attempt to follow him, still balancing on the edges of the train tracks, quickly giving up when he doesn’t show any signs of waiting for you.

He turns around at the start of the bridge, and you grin at him as you step up onto the train tracks. He steps onto the edge next to yours, your feet moving in sync along those parallel metal lines drawn across the wooden tiles, his arms waving wildly as he fails to keep his balance.

Mingyu shakes his head out when he’s fallen three times, running his hand through his hair, glancing at you with the widest smile you’ve ever seen.

Your sunshine. That’s what he is, walking alongside you as you tread across the train tracks, hands carefully tucked into his pockets, watching your every step.

He speeds up when you hop off the tracks, and you follow him into a neighbourhood with two-story houses. Plants line the sidewalks, with overgrown creepers crawling up the walls and trees overhead shading you from the sun.

He points at the sign and tells you he came here once before, after his mother scolded him. It’s dangerously close to his home, a place that contains memories you can’t be a part of, a place you’re not sure you’re ready to intrude into.

You do anyway.

Mingyu leads you to the playground he’s only been to once before, when he was running away from his mother, and you pass by the empty basketball court.

You love basketball, you tell him, your steps slowing down. He whirls on his heel, looking up at the hoops, shading his eyes from the sun with his hand. Really?

Really, you say. You tell him how you used to play basketball during your half-hour long recess in elementary school instead of eating. Even though you were really bad and only played with a group of 5-6 other friends, it was still fun.

He understands.

You teach him how to climb onto the roof of the playground, your hands and feet making holds out of the railings and slides. You show him a view of the world that you loved as a kid, a view that makes you feel like you’re on top of the world. Like you’re unbeatable, invincible, and that the moment will last forever.

Slithering off the roof, you discreetly pull out your phone, but Mingyu spots you quickly enough. Don't film me, he pouts, eyebrows in a knot as his foot staggers around for a foothold.

You laugh and keep your camera pointed at him.

He hops down—ungracefully, you’d like to add; you think you were pretty graceful when jumping down yourself—and beckons you over with his hand.

Mingyu leads you to a sheltered area where the playground floor and gravel gives way to grass and soil, the trees overhead casting so much shade you get the impression that you’re in a rainforest. You can barely see past the crowns of the trees to the sky, which you’re sure is a shade of blue-grey. You can tell that it’s not raining, or the playground would be getting wet, but it isn’t quite sunny yet either.

The creak of a red swing brings your attention back to Mingyu. He smiles at you in warm invitation, and you take it, stepping up onto the swing. Your legs are on the left of his, your knees a fist’s width away from his. Opposite you, Mingyu lifts his eyes to yours and begins to speak.

How’s school, how’s life, how’s that toxic friend group in your dance club? he asks.

Stressful, interesting, shitty as ever, you reply.

He asks things like why, tell me more, is that leadership position working out for you?

You reply with much longer answers than you thought you would. The words flow from you like air leaking from a balloon with a hole. There’s so much pent-up frustration, bottled-up confusion, anxiety, envy, and even sadness you didn’t notice you were suppressing. They find their way out of your mouth in words you're surprised are coherent enough for him to understand, but somehow he manages it.

You’re not the only one telling stories, though. You ask Mingyu questions too, stuff like how’s being drama club president, do you like your juniors, what do you want to do at university?

And he, too, replies with amazing, I love them, I don't know but I’d like to be a counsellor someday.

And you learn.

From his smiles and nervous fidgeting and “um”s, you learn that he’s nervous. From the way he leans forward to talk to you and nods when you speak, you learn that his interest in you is genuine. From the tone of his voice and the smile in his eyes, you learn about his habits of joy and excitement. You pick apart his every move to learn something from it, absorbing a little more knowledge about him each time.

An hour or two passes. As it starts to drizzle again and lunch hour approaches, Mingyu gets up from the swing, not forgetting to hold it while you step off, and goes to the bench to get his tote bag before his things are drenched in the rain.

With a hand above your heads shielding you from the drizzle, the two of you half run-half walk to the mall nearby for lunch, raucous laughter echoing in your ears.

Mingyu offers to pay for your lunch thrice, and you refuse each time, reluctant to let him take money out of his allowance to pay for your meal. He insists you should let him pay for it, telling you that his father will give him more money. Still, you decline.

When he goes to visit the restroom, you quickly take your chance to buy your food before he gets back.

You take a seat successfully and wait for him to return, and he does—not without him trying to slide the bill into your bag first. After a while, he finally gives in, and the two of you settle down for lunch.

Lunch ends at around the same time the sky clears, and the two of you are rushing to climb onto your bicycles and leave before the rain starts up again. The weather has been unpredictable that morning, and you’re unwilling to take your chances. Instead of lingering around the mall, you’re unlocking your bicycle, fiddling with the stubborn lock, and Mingyu waits patiently beside you.

All set? he asks for the second time that day.

You reply the same way, All set.

Then you’re off, legs pedalling furiously, your balance miles better when you’re moving fast. In the morning, you had to keep swerving to avoid knocking into Mingyu at the slow pace you were going, but now you’re just trying to get home before it rains again. Your curfew is pretty early, and if you dally any longer, you’re definitely going to get an earful when you’re home.

Mingyu easily keeps pace with you, following your lead. From time to time, he’ll catch up and ride beside you for a stretch, and then you’ll pedal faster and he’ll fall behind again.

You feel the drizzle beginning when you ring your bell, bypassing yet another jogger on the trail. Cursing, you pick up speed, and Mingyu doesn’t question you as he follows behind.

The rain grows heavier more quickly than you’d expected, and soon there’s a steady stream of water raining down. You wipe futilely at your forehead from time to time, glasses sprayed with raindrops, and Mingyu calls out after you, laughing.

I’m not supposed to cycle in the rain, you tell him. My mum is going to kill me!

He seems to get it, but when you seek shelter under an overhead bridge to wipe your face with the remaining dry part of your T-shirt, he’s laughing at you.

You roll your eyes and point out the bits of water on his face, but he shrugs. You’re going to be cycling through the rain again anyway, so he doesn’t see the need to dry his face.

You clench your jaw, resolved to get home as soon as possible. The two of you climb back onto the bicycle, and start cycling home.

As if trying to deliberately annoy you, the downpour only gets heavier on your way home. It keeps coming down, and you fight to keep your balance and not skid on the watery path. You’re forced to slow down a little, your legs no longer pedalling as fast.

Your anxious heart begins to slow, and Mingyu's calm, sure voice carries over to you, despite the rain falling steadily around you. The sun is still high in the sky, and you wonder if there'll be a rainbow. That would be befitting for Mingyu, you think.

The whole way back, your mind is occupied by Mingyu's questions, his curiosity warming your heart. He genuinely cares about you, and this care distracts you from your fear of reaching home late. All thoughts of what your mother will say go out the window, until he's returned his bicycle and you've parked yours near the subway station, heading to the toilet to change into a new, dry shirt.

Mingyu didn't think to bring change, so he waits for you outside. He offers to help carry your bag, but you insist you can do it yourself. Just the thought that he's there, waiting outside, comforts you.

The two of you walk alongside each other on the way back to your home. You won't stop him from walking you home, especially not when you enjoy his company so much. He mentions something about his future family and you stiffen, afraid that he's jumping the gun. Your commitment issues start to resurface, your mind whirring as your heart jumps into panic mode, but you force yourself to take a few deep breaths and laugh.

He seems too happy to notice how forced your laugh is. Instead, he's asking for your mother's name, repeating it the whole way to make sure he's got it right.

Mrs? he asks.

Aunty, you correct.

Aunty, he repeats, and you nod your head. He asks for your father's, too, and he's still mumbling their names when you come up to the door. You ring the doorbell, and your mother comes to open the door, greeting Mingyu with a warm smile and a hearty welcome.

Come on in, she says. Mingyu shakes his head bashfully.

I've got to be going, he says. See you, Aunty.

You step into the house and wave at him until he's out of sight, your mother watching his retreating figure with you.

He seems like a nice boy, she says.

Oh, he is.

[pshenha]

⌞박성훈⌝ MY BABY

⟡ SYNOPSIS: in which, it’s sunghoon’s birthday

⟡ GENRE: fluff, fluff, fluff

⟡ WC: 1399

.ᐟ A/N: this is not proofread, happy hoon day!! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

── .✦

“Did you set everything up?” 

“Yeah, everything is set up, how’s your date going? Does he seem suspicious at all?” you giggle a bit as you hear Jake whispering as if Sunghoon could hear him. 

You take a glance over to your boyfriend– who’s too preoccupied by the fish in the tank next to the waiting area. “Everything’s fine, we just finished up dinner then we’ll go to this coffee shop I saw on the way. After that we’ll head over” 

Today was his birthday. The man that had picked you up at your lowest point and the man that promised you forever the minute he asked you to be his girlfriend. 

Thank God for all of your friends. You don’t know what you would’ve done had they not been there to help set up for Sunghoon’s birthday. Everyone had already gotten to your apartment  while you and Sunghoon had gone out to one of your favorite restaurants– the one he had taken you to on your very first date. Ever since then it’s been a tradition. 

“Baby, look”

The photo box had caught your eye on the way to the small coffee shop you went to after dinner. The look in Sunghoon’s eye soften at your reaction. Any chance you get you always stop at them. It’s the perfect way to capture memories in your opinion. “C’mon!” you say as you practically drag him closer.  “Ahh, we haven’t been to one of these in a while,” he ducks his head, ensuring not to hit his head. 

Before you could even take out your wallet to pay, Sunghoon beats you to it. His hand reaches for the card reader and scans the metal card. “Hoon! I was gonna pay” you pout. 

“Baby, it’s okay. I don't mind” he laughs as he leans down to peck your pouting lips. 

‘Get ready to smile in 5, 4, 3…’ the voice says from the box. 

“Hurry!” Sunghoon brings his hand up to cup your cheeks, causing them to puff up. The pout on your face turns into a smile as he smothers your face in a harsh kiss. After the picture is taken it pops up on the screen. “Ahh, that one’s cute” 

The next pose you do is simple. You squish your cheeks with his and smile at the camera. The last one, you turn his head to face you as your hands cup his face and smash your lips against his. He giggles against your lips and brings his hands to your waist. Teeth clashing together, you melt into the kiss. His soft lips engulfing yours as one of his hands caresses your cheek. The voice from the box gets you to pull away. 

You peck Sunghoon once more before turning to the screen. “Which filter should we put?” 

The various pictures of snow show up until you stop on the one Sunghoon likes. “The penguins are cute.” 

As you step out of the small box you watch as the photos drop into the area they’re supposed to be in. Sunghoon takes them and pulls his phone out, scanning the QR code to get the video the booth took. 

“You’re so cute baby” he shows you the video of the two of you. You giggle at your playful behavior and watch the way Sunghoon looks at you in the video. How did you get so lucky? The vibration of your phone catches your attention, it’s probably Jake wondering where you were. 

“Wow, I’m so tired” you pretend to yawn as you lean on Sunghoon’s body. 

“Do you want to go home now?” you hum as he wraps his arm around your waist as he immediately walks you both to his car. 

As you sit in his car his phone lights up in the cup holder next to you. You catch a glimpse of the screen and notice that he changed his wallpaper. It’s the photos you had taken at the photo booth. When did he have time to change it?  

When you arrive at the small shared apartment you look up at your window– all the lights are out. You greet the doorman and you hear Sunghoon send him a small ‘thank you’ after wishing him a happy birthday. His hand is still snug around your waist as you wait for the elevator to reach your floor. You decide to play coy and act as if you were sleepy. He hurriedly punches in the pin to your apartment to get you inside. 

Unbeknownst to him all of his close friends were behind the door waiting for him. Upon entering the door you walk further into the apartment and suddenly the lights switch on and in unison everyone shouts ‘happy birthday Sunghoon!’ Near the lights a banner is hung with the words ‘Happy Birthday Hoonie’ written on it with all of their friend’s names and small messages written to him. 

The look of shock on his face makes you laugh as he turns to face you. 

“Did you do this baby?” 

You shy away as he looks at you “Mayyybee” you drag your words out. 

“You really are cute, you know that? Thank you baby, you really didn’t have to do this” he whispers into your hair. You pull away to peck his lips smiling at him. 

“You deserve it so much. You really work hard for us and you deserve to have a break sometimes. I hope you know that” he smiles and leans down kissing the side of your mouth. 

“Happy birthday bro!” Jake walks up to the two of you with his arms wide. Sunghoon walks up to him engulfing him in a hug. And one by one his more like brothers do the same. “Thanks again, Jake” you say behind your boyfriend. 

“Yah! Is that why you haven’t texted me all day?!” he playfully punches Jake’s shoulder. 

“Mayyybee” he copies you. 

The night is full of laughter and games. Heeseung, Jungwon, and Sunoo are next to Sunghoon on the couch blissfully singing their hearts out as Jay plays with the lights as the song begins to get more intense. At the coffee table in front of you Niki and Jake continue their game of Uno that they started half an hour ago. 

You? You had been fixing the cake you had been making since five o’clock this morning. Decorating it fully to your heart's content. The number ‘22’ is written in red icing and below the words ‘Happy birthday Hoon” is written in bold letters. You signal for Jay to completely turn off the lights. The only thing illuminating the room is the tv. 

You light the candles with a lighter and slowly walk over to your boyfriend. He fully sits up the moment he sees you along with the other boys. You all begin to sing happy birthday and you hold the cake in front of him. 

The moment is full of joy, laughter and the utmost love. “Make a wish, Sunghoon” you watch as he closes his eyes for a moment to make his wish, then he blows the candles out with a swift move of his hand. The lights turn back on as everyone cheers for him. 

Once everyone is content with full stomachs they all go back to what they had been originally doing. You’re in the kitchen cleaning up your previous mess from the cake until you suddenly feel warm hands wrap around your waist. “Hi, baby” Sunghoon whispers into your ear. 

“Hi Hoonie” you turn in his arms as you hang your arms around his neck. He leans down to nuzzle your nose and softly clasps his lips with yours. His thumbs rub small circles under your shirt. He pulls away and buries his face into your neck. His hot breath hits your skin as he says, “Thank you for today, seriously. I really needed it”

“Mmh, you have no idea how stressful it was” you giggle.

“I was so worried the boys had messed something up but they did a nice job to my surprise,” he laughs and pulls away to look at your face, admiring every little thing.   

You stand there just watching each other, until you slightly stand on your tip toes and kiss his soft lips. Leaning your forehead against his, Sunghoon tightens his grip around you as if you’d disappear. 

“Happy Birthday, my baby” 

[natalie668]

Hey i was wondering if maybe you could do something with the poly lost boys finding there mate right after they said that they can't find love? It can be for the boys or the reader. You don't have to ofcourse if you don't want to.

Here you go love, hope you enjoy this, I know I enjoyed writing it. I’ve been a bit stuck writers block wise and this helped pull me out of it ❤️ This is ModernAU! Hope that’s ok. 🥰

You sat on the edge of your best friends bed, you felt miserable; you had just finished college for the summer, and your supposed boyfriend had been cheating on you with your room mate, a girl you had to share dorms with.

“Just forget about it love, you told me his dick was small anyway.” She says laughing, pushing your shoulder after doing the finishing touches to your face.

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, she sure knows how to cheer you up, which was why she was dragging you out 2 towns over to Santa Carla for a music fest on the beach, she’d gotten the two of you tickets weeks ago. You used to live in Santa Carla so you were happy to go back, if not to get away from your hoe of a dorm mate and the cheating prick of an ex. You guessed Love just wasn’t in the cards for you, and you believed that was okay.

“Right, get your sexy arse up, get your dress on, we’ll go downstairs order an Uber and we’ll get there in time to scout for hotties.” She says as she pulls her phone out, in minutes the Uber is on the way, and you’re both off.

It takes around 30 minutes in the car before the driver is dropping you at the board walk, the sounds and smells make you nostalgic for times of the past where you’d spend the days here with high school friends, and a lot of the times on your own.

Holding hands with your bestie, you both head towards the loud music, pulling her phone out she pulls up the QR code for your tickets and you’re let in and you’re making your ways through the crowd.

Bodies are grinding against one another, you try to avoid being stood on as much as you can, finding an open space you pull your friend into the spot, you dance together to the song playing. “Pacify her, by Melanie Martinez” is playing and you love the song so you’re singing along, your hands, a live band will be playing soon so you take advantage of the songs between acts.

You sing along to the song, dancing as if not a single person is their looking, you feel free, which is saying a lot as you haven’t felt free since you had began dating your ex.

As the two of you are so engrossed in dancing you don’t notice the four guys leaning against the nearest fenced off area. There eyes have found you amongst the hundreds of bodies in here and something clicks. Like they’ve been in the dark for the past centuries and seeing you has turned the light on.

You’re perfect as you stand their dancing, they eye you from head to toe, you’re like heaven and they have to stop themselves from running over to you throwing you over their shoulder and running. (Or flying) away with you.

David looks to the others and they turn towards you and all four of them stand their watching their angel, their soulmate. They couldn’t believe they’d found you, they had began to believe you didn’t exist.

As one, they approached you; your bestie spotted them heading towards you both, their eyes on you. With a smile she pushes you to check them out, with a grin she says she’s going to get you both a drink.

The lightest blond guy, settles a hand against my side, the moment he touched me it felt like my heart had a string attached to him, it was like when you read books on soulmates, I could tell this was it. I guess with the amount of books I read this was the closest thing to experiencing the real thing.

“I’m David, this is Marko, Paul & Dwayne,” he says as he points the other guys out who haven’t taken their eyes off me. Something pulls me into wanting their touch.

“Why do you all feel like mine,” i say unable to stop myself. They probably think I’m nuts, great job love.

“That’s because we are yours, and you my Love, are ours.” Bringing his lips to your own, you swallow your moan as you feel several pairs of hands stroke down your back, across your arms and your hand.

“You’re our soulmate, my sweet.” The dark haired one says his eyes seem to glow after saying that, you have no idea what they are or why you’re believing soulmates are true but you’re so glad you decided to come with your bestie.

Note: hope this was okay Anonymous ❤️ I know no smut but I can always try for a part 2 if need be :-)

[midala-of-the-valley]

Congratulations!

David 8 x Reader Words: 1144 Crossposted on Ao3 Crackfic Happy Birthday David ❤️ Idea from: @theropoda and @lehnsharrk

"Your Weyland-Corp package will be delivered in approximately 15 minutes."

Wow, that was fast! You had entered an online competition to become one of the beta-testers for the first model of their Home-Android line, and luck must have been on your side, because you actually won!

Putting your phone down, you scrambled through your room, hurriedly pulling on something more presentable than pajamas and hastily combing your hair into place.

Frantically running through your apartment, you tried to clear away stray clothes and dishes. You were so caught up in tidying that you almost tripped as the doorbell rang.

Sure, the Android was technically designed to help with housekeeping, but the delivery person didn’t need to know just how much you actually needed it.

Opening the door, you were greeted by a large cardboard box perched on a trolley, nearly obscuring the man in a green Weyland uniform and matching cap as he peeked out from behind it, checking his clipboard.

"Y/N L/N. Is that correct?"

You nodded, stepping aside to let him wheel the massive package into your living room. Once it was set down, he handed you an impressively thick manual and tapped on its cover.

"Here’s the QR code for the app. Please use it to send feedback or report any issues you encounter."

With a grunt of effort, he hefted the package off the trolley, left it in the middle of your living room, and exited your apartment without another word.

What.

Blinking, you stood frozen for a moment before heading to the kitchen to grab a pair of scissors. With a decisive stab into the parcel tape, you sliced through the middle of the box.

Inside was a beautiful man- wait, no. Android. Oh. A very beautiful Android.

You flicked through the manual, scanning for activation instructions. Ah, here it was. To activate, press a small sensor located behind his right ear for five seconds.

Taking a breath, you reached out and pressed the spot. Moments later, his eyes opened, and after a brief pause, his gaze locked onto yours.

Now he was the one blinking, his brows furrowing slightly as he began testing his limbs. With deliberate movements, he stepped out of the box.

“Good day, Ma’am,” he said in a voice that was smooth, polite, and just a touch mechanical. “My name is David 1. I will serve as your assistant and companion, ready to assist you with whatever you may require.”

He extended a hand, stiff but purposeful. “May I ask what I should call you?”

And that's how daily life with David began.

It was really weird to configure your timezone for something that looked so human, and to enter a PIN code for him via an app??

And the ads. You weren’t safe from ads, either. Sometimes, when he didn’t have anything to do, he would just stand around or sit on the couch and start citing commercials.

The first time it happened, you almost spat out the tea he had made for you beforehand.

“Would you like to renew your Audible subscription? The first three months are only $0.99.”

As you choked on your beverage, David stared at you apologetically before quickly getting up and patting your back to help.

“Sorry, (Y/N), I didn’t mean to surprise you. You can turn it off with the Premium Subscription for $19.99 per month.”

Putting your cup down, still coughing, you turned to him.

“I have to pay for that? Seriously?”

He just shrugged, his face imitating an :I emoji.

After a while, you noticed that even David got annoyed by the interruptions, disliking how your conversations were suddenly stopped by yet another commercial for shaving cream.

The two of you made it your mission to bypass ads with free trials he found online. He even read your books to you instead of you paying for another damn subscription.

HelloFresh? He grew vegetables on your windowsill. Man, he was amazing at making fresh pasta.

“FOR FUCK'S SAKE, I DON’T WANT YOUTUBE PREMIUM! THIS APP SHOULD BE ABLE TO PLAY VIDEOS IN THE BACKGROUND WITHOUT ME PAYING FOR IT!”

You shouted in frustration. The ads were SO annoying, and you couldn’t turn them off!

David blinked, and for a moment you thought he had lagged as he processed your words. Then he answered.

“If you give me permission via verbal verification, I could enter the darknet and download an adblock mod. It’s a bit risky, but my firewall should be sufficient to withstand any viruses.”

You hesitated, not wanting to risk his functionality. But when he one day started quoting a Viagra advertisement like those on Tumblr, you caved.

“Please enter the darknet and find that mod. I can’t take this anymore.”

So he did. And you got really fucking scared for a moment, because one of his eyes twitched and stayed half-open, like your old dolls when you tilted them sideways. Oh shit, did you break him? Please, please, please no- oh. Oh God.

He needed a second to install and initialize. His expression reminded you of your Furby with dying batteries that suddenly came to life in the middle of the night, croaking its last words. But after another minute, he was fine.

This action had some side effects, though.

He still worked perfectly - cleaning the dishes, doing the laundry, watering the plants, until he suddenly called you a donkey while you were cooking. With an awfully familiar voice.

You stared at him. “Excuse me?”

“That wasn’t me,” he replied in his normal voice, furrowing his brows.

Nodding slowly, you turned back to add meat to your sauce, only to be interrupted by:

“Why did the chicken cross the road? Because you didn’t fucking cook it!”

Instead of getting annoyed, you broke down laughing, and even David couldn’t hide a grin as he watched you sink to the kitchen floor.

“I seem to have caught a serious case of Gordon Ramsay.”

That was it. you were officially cackling like a hen. On the ground. Crying.

It wasn’t so bad, really. He functioned just fine, even though he occasionally squawked like a bird at random. But you just squawked right back. Just normal ADHD things, to be honest.

At the end of the day, he became your illegally modded roommate, sitting with you on the couch, your legs sprawled over his lap as you both munched on popcorn.

You still weren’t entirely sure where the food he sometimes ate with you went, but you decided not to question it.

Weyland never got their Android back, you hid him in your closet that one time they tried to collect him after the testing period was over.

“I have the power of God and anime on my side,” your favorite person declared.

“Yes, David, you do,” you replied with a smile.

~The End~

[trainsinanime]

Tram de Liège

After a lot of delays, the new tram line of Liège, Belgium finally opened today, bringing this mode of transport back to the “glowing city” after 58 years. So obviously I left work early and travelled through two countries to check it out.

The line had been planned since the late 2000s, and just about everything about it had been controversial, from its existence to its PPP financing model (which got ruled illegal by the EU not once but twice until they finally got it right) to its construction and delays.

As it stands, the line is almost 12 kilometers, almost all of it at the western bank of the river Meuse, with a single short branch over the river to Bressoux, serving the Expo Centre and also the depot. Three sections are wireless, and trains travel through them on battery power. Personally I think that’s at least two too many; wires would not have massively disturbed the view of the Pont Atlas or the new station quarter at Liège Guillemins, the city's striking main railway station.

As usual for these types of projects, a lot of city spaces got extensive renewals as part oft eh tram project, and between you and me, they were urgently needed. Liège has not always been a very nice city. In places, these improvements have meant reducing space for individual motor traffic and adding bike lanes. However, a number of new bike lanes are just the dreaded “share arrow” on four lane roads; this could be better.

Extensions at either end to Seraing and Herstal (yes, the one from the guns) are possible and some construction started back in 2023, but they got cancelled in 2024 due to high costs.

Costs are a major issue here. The line was very expensive, with a final bill of 530 million euro. In comparison, the line T9 in Paris, probably not a city with low construction costs, has a similar length and only came to 480 million euro (both figures include rolling stock and a dedicated depot and workshop, and come with the caveat that my French is atrocious and I may have misunderstood French Wikipedia here). So the Liège Tram is not quite crazy expensive, but definitely expensive.

The trains seem and feel very French, but are actually from Spanish CAF, part of the Urbos family. They are 45 meters long, 2.65 meters wide, fully low floor, with wide open spaces for standing passengers and persons with reduced mobility, but relatively few seats (though the seats all have USB charging ports).

Today, operations were fairly rough, I’m not going to lie, with lots of breakdowns and issues. I travelled the entire network, and ended up in two trams that just randomly stopped for ten minutes, presumably while the driver was trying to fix some issue. As a result, while headways are supposed to be good, actual headways were essentially random. On a more regular level, I would say signal priority is not yet handled perfectly, there are a number of places where trams had to stop due to red traffic lights.

Ticketing also left me baffled. I think I had a valid ticket, but I’m not actually sure. The Dutch-Belgian-German border region has a special day pass, the Euregioticket, valid in all trains and buses in the regions of Aachen (Germany), where I live, Maastricht (Netherlands) and Liège. But all documentation for it predates the tram, so there’s no point that actually says it’s valid on trams. The ticket validators on the trams certainly couldn’t tell me. Half of them were out of service anyway. And for the others, I have no idea how to get them to read a QR code on my phone, if they even have a camera for that. They’re supposed to, according to an employee of the operator I spoke with at a station, but I certainly didn’t see it. What the validators do is magically open the wallet app on my phone, which would probably have scared the shit out of me if this hadn’t been something I’d seen before. Some types of chip card readers for public transit just do that, apparently, regardless of my phone's settings. It was probably fine, I guess?

But don’t let the negativity fool you. The line is on track to be a huge success. Many of the trains I was in were rather full. Not quite packed, but definitely well used. A lot of that is probably people just trying it out (I noticed several people who did the same end-to-end-and-back runs as me), and a lot of it is that people are forced to use it, since the bus network was changed do that many bus lines now end at tram stops. But still, this clearly will be the backbone of the city for many years to come.

Now let’s hope my own city of Aachen manages to do the same before too long. We need more trams in this world.

[hsr-texts]

find your cinderella

꒰‧₊˚✩彡‧꒱ ┊ ━━━━ chapter one

꒰⸝⸝₊ʚ♡ɞ ┊ streamer!reader x mystery hsr character ꒱

꒰⸝⸝₊ʚ♡ɞ ┊ otome event ꒱

꒰ ☰ WORD COUNT ┊780 ꒱

꒰ ☰ DESCRIPTION ┊ ━━ When you do an unboxing livestream for your subsribers, you find an invite to an exclusive event called the "Find Your Cinderella" masquerade gala where you are guaranteed to find your supposed true love, as a rather enthusiastic manager told you. ꒱

꒰ ☰ NOTES ┊omg sorry for the long wait!! i was taking care of my college admissions, exercising, and taking care of my aunt all at the same time!! ꒱

previously ┊masterlist

You read the livechat so far. It seemed that the majority wanted you to go.

It was understandable why. This all seemed to be so exciting for regular people who don’t get to go to these events. In your career as a streamer, most of your appeal to viewers came from how relatable you were. Of course, there was also your gaming content but most your subscribers seem to just be happy to watch you do fun stuff. And in their eyes, this event would be the most fun thing you’ll ever get to do.

Despite how strange this all seemed, it probably shouldn’t hurt to go, right? Sugo said that something good will come out of it no matter what happens. Plus, if you didn’t go, would you regret it? Would you later lie in bed late at night, thinking of what could’ve been? Would your curiosity ever stop bugging you about it?

Also 500,000 credits sounded real good for just going to a party and tolerating it.

You clasped your hands together. “Alright then! I’ll be attending the Find Your Cinderella Gala and see what it’s about!”

Your chat cheered for the decision.

You then noticed the time. 12 midnight.

“Aw man, sorry guys but it’s getting pretty late so I’ll be logging off now. I’ll see you guys next time!”

With one last farewell wave, you switched off the stream and checked the statistics. Wow, it seemed to be at an all time high. At least Sugo was right about one thing. It’d only be a matter of time until the news of this gala spread like wildfire.

You found a QR code on the back of the ticket so you scanned it with your phone. It led to a website for the FYC Gala.

You clicked the “attending” button, leaning back on your seat. Seeing the dress code, you checked the package once again and saw that the outfit came with shoes, accessories, and a mask already. Huh, they really prepared everything for you. At least you wouldn’t have to spend extra money. Getting that limited edition LumiPro package already put a slight dent in your finances, after all.

It finished loading and you read the words: “Added to the guest list”

A yawn escaped your lips.

You got off the chair and went over your nightly routine before passing out in your bed.

                                                                                                    

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep—

Click.

You pulled your hand away from your alarm and sat up, yawning. Taking a glance at your clock, you saw that it was 9am.

After a round of stretching, you got off your bed and made a beeline for the kitchen.

You decided to eat tocilog for breakfast so you started cooking rice, eggs, and tocino. A pleasant scent wafted through the kitchen as the meal was being cooked. You let out a delighted sigh, enjoying the smell of a good meal in the morning.

After the meal was finished cooking, you sat down at your dining table to eat it. You made a pleased noise as you ate, satisfied with how the meal came out.

Ding!

You checked your phone and saw that you got a message from your editor, Cori.

Huh? Your eyebrows furrowed so you sent a quick reply and did as asked, looking at online news.

“Streamer’s Unboxing Stream Gets Hijacked By LumiPro Event Organiser in Publicity Stunt”

You checked LumiTube and clips of your stream have been uploaded on there, rapidly gaining over a million views within 12 hours. Damn.

Taking a sip of your water, you leaned back with a contemplative expression on your face. What should you stream today?

With your current status as a streamer that recently became viral, you could take advantage of that and do a stream where you prepare for the FYC Gala by going to a salon and letting viewers watch you get your nails and hair done, then maybe also booking a makeup artist for before the gala, if needed.

But since there was still about two weeks until the gala, you figured there was no rush.

Besides that, you could do a gaming stream since you still need to complete Freya’s Gate 5.

As if a light bulb flickered above your head, your eyes lit up and you took your phone out, logging onto Trotter.

Tap. Tap. Taptaptap.

A series of typing noises came from your phone and you pressed post.

This way, you can let your followers choose what you'll be doing today without having to do the heavy work of making a decision, truly a predicament for someone as indecisive as yourself.

And now you just wait for the results.

[valentiyne]

𝖺𝗅𝗉𝗁𝖺 𝗉𝗁𝗂 ❀ 𝗅𝗎𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗆𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌

Frat!Luke Hemmings x Fem!Reader

Summary: Rush week between fraternity Alpha Phi and sorority Alpha Kappa. Fake dating trope!

Warnings: Cursing, alcohol, drugs, and brief mentions of hazing

Word Count: 2.3k (kinda proofread)

Copyright © 2024 Valentiyne. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

Rush week is one of the most notorious weeks in any university across the globe.

This is when fraternities and sororities host events and give new students their first chance to meet members of Greek Life. These events range from recruitment during the week and parties throughout the weekend.

"Kenzie does this look right", I turn around and face my roommate, my lace top squeezing me in all the right places.

My beloved roommate, Mackenzie shoots me a thumbs up and looks back down at her phone quickly, making sure our Uber is taking us in the right direction.

The nerves flowing through my body could shock an elephant if it got too close. It was my second year in university and after the horrific events that followed throughout first year, I was determined to make this one count.

After tipping the driver, we found ourselves on frat row. Numerous people were storming to Alpha Phi- the head of the fraternities on campus. One of which had a high reputation for having the craziest events and never-ending parties.

We found ourselves squeezing through the front door, stepping over people sitting on the floor, or sliding away from the monstrosities of beer kegs. Alpha Phi was one of the cleaner fraternities on campus, but it definitely looked like a bunch of men lived in there.

I looked around the crowd of people, hoping to spot anyone I knew. I was met with a pair of icy blue eyes that I couldn't quite pinpoint where I recognized from. My attention was drawn away when someone walked past, offering me a red solo cup which I properly declined.

It wasn't even 7pm and I never take drinks from strangers.

"Attention everyone! The drawing board has officially been closed and if you signed up with the QR code this week, your name is in here" Someone with a megaphone shouts from the back corner of the room.

I look to Kenzie now, raising a brow to make sure she had submitted our information as requested. She nods her head reassuringly in response, "You know I gotchu" she teases and points to the podium in the middle of the living room.

The entire fraternity stood behind it, their faces filled with mischief or sloppy smirks that would send any incoming freshmen into a frenzy.

"We'll begin with the dating game.", The fraternity president, known to Kenzie and I as Ashton, spoke clearly. Ashton had a huge reputation on campus, he was the fastest keg chugger but he was a huge advocate for an anti-hazing organization- it was some secret of his.

"Each fraternity brother will be paired with a sorority sister and must date for the rest of the weekend, starting today. The first ones to make it to the end of the week without breaking up or hooking up wins"

The small crowd erupted in cheers, the fraternity brothers leaning over to whisper to each other before their vice president, Calum walked forward to the podium.

"We'll start with Alpha Kappa," he unfolds his envelope and smirks to himself, "Mackenzie Haven with Michael Clifford"

She gasps loudly next to me, grabbing my forearm tightly and pulling me into various people around us as she squeals. Kenzie has had a huge crush on Michael since our English class freshman year. In her words, he was the perfect mix of "punk" and "nerd".

Calum lets the crowd calm, raising a hand to silence us before reading the rest of the names, a sister from our sorority getting paired with Ashton and another with Calum.

Finally it was me.

I held my breathe, my eyes locking with Kenzie before I look back up to Calum who stared at me with sorrowed eyes.

"And the remainding two...." he unfolds the paper slowly and upon reading it, bursts into a fit of laughter.

"Y/n Y/l/n and Luke Hemmings"

My eyes widened and I could feel bile dramatically creeping up my throat. I could hear Kenzie squeal once again and grab me. My heart sunk to the bottom of my stomach. Luke Hemmings was the last person I wanted to be paired with.

Him and I didn't have the greatest reputation together and I didn't want to play this game anymore.

Luke and I had english together our freshman year, along with Michael and Kenzie. One week, Alpha Phi threw a three day bender which caused him to miss the due date on our essay. Now I was smart, I finished the assignment a week before and made my way to the party- where I had met Luke for the first time.

So what did Mr Luke Hemmings do?

Stole my essay from my backpack and turned it in as him own- earning me a fat 50% for plagiarism.

Of course I went to the board in an attempt to dispute the whole ordeal, but Luke had a huge reputation in the fraternity as well as a long history of Hemmings who'd graduated here. In the end, it was his word against mine.

I could feel his icy blue eyes on mine and I tried to squeeze past all the people and out the back door but it was no use. Kenzie spun me around only for me to meet with the icy blue eyes from earlier.

It was like he heard me mentally cursing him, the way he strode over to me with a deadpan that looked too personal to not be personal.

"Hello Sunshine", He whispers down in my ear, Kenzie and Michael staring at us both with mouths agape. Chills run down my body and I look up at him like a deer in headlights.

I knew this weekend wasn't going to end well. I might as well drop out now.

Waking up to the sound of my phone ringing loudly, I sit up quickly and answer it. It wasn't unusual for someone to call me at all hours of the night, for all I know it could've been a sorority sister who's locked out. I glance over to Kenzie's sleeping figure and groaned quietly, "Hm?...."

"Goodmorning sunshine, as the best boyfriend in the sorority we are hitting the gym- be ready in 5"

My eyes shoot open and I hang the phone up, rubbing my eyes with my palms and checking the time. It was a mere three in the morning and I sighed, sliding out of bed and tiptoeing my way to the shared bathroom in our dorm, a bundle of gym clothes tucked in my arms.

I stared at my reflection for too long, throwing on an oversized hoodie and sliding some running shoes on before snatching my purse.

The loud roar of an engine notified me that the blondie was outside. Racing down the steps, he wasn't shy to blast his horn numerous times in an attempt to get me to walk faster.

His car was an 04' Mustang, painted red to match the interior leather. His car was cocky just like him.

Luke reaches across the center console and pushes the door open, my eyes still half lidded as I slump into the passenger seat, "Mornin' sunshine"

"Don't call me that" I say loudly, earning a smirk in return.

I could barely hear him over the sound of his music blasting, it was too early for this and he knew it.

I rub my eyes again, opening them slowly to reveal an iced drink handed to me with a ring clasped hand. He returns his eyes to the road with a stern expression, putting the car in gear and speeding off.

I examine the drink closely, noticing the pink hue before it clicks in my mind, "How did you know my order?"

"Asked Kenzie.. At least i'm making an effort"

I swirl the drink with my straw, looking down at my lap for the remainder of the short car ride. He kept a steady gaze on the road, occasionally turning to look at me which I pretended not to notice. Luke was definitely an attractive man, one that dropped jaws when he walked into the room. But I knew where my heart lies with him, how much I hate him will never let me stand him in the slightest.

"Wish you would've seen the look on the lady's face when I ordered it... an iced bubblegum latte wasn't in my vocabulary before you" He scoffs and pulls the car into the parking lot, jumping out and slamming the door.

The gym was hell, Luke was hell and I knew I couldn't survive another two days of this. I ignored his attempts to open the door for me, offered to hold my purse when we went places. I genuinely didn't want to be around him, and you could see it on my face.

As the days went on, I could tell it was getting to him. He wanted to win, as much as I did, but it wasn't easy for either of us.

He hated me for ratting him out and I hate him for ruining my life.

"Cmon Y/n, he can't be thattttttt bad", Kenzie defends before going on a tangent about how amazing Michael was aside from his out of wack sleep schedule. She went to the gym every morning and pilates right after, meanwhile Michael slept through his countless alarms.

"I'll trade you" I groan helplessly as my phone rights for the tenth time in a row. His contact was the same as when we first met last year.

Lu<33

Kenzie leans over quickly and answers, "Hi Luke it's Kenz", She shoots me a mischievous smile, "Oh! Y/n? she's right here"

I snatch the phone from her hand. shooting her daggers before speaking sternly. "Go away" The phone ended up somewhere on the floor of our shared bedroom and I slammed my head into my pillow.

I wanted absolutely nothing to do with Luke Hemmings. And I made that very clear.

Sunday rolled around much quicker, and instead of a phone call waking me up, it was a body shifting under my mattress. I jump up quickly, ripping my eye mask off while my chest rises and falls quickly.

I open my eyes to reveal Luke smiling down at me, "Goodmornin-"

I push him off my, eyes scanning my nightstand praying that it wasn't gym time. To my surprise it was a little after ten in the morning, Kenzie and the rest of the sorority sisters were off at pilates and I was getting my much needed beauty sleep.

"What are you doing in my room" I sit up, hearing him chuckle at my childish choice of pajamas before he leans over and grabs a bouquet of flowers from the edge of the bed.

"I wanted to apologize"

I roll my eyes, "It's going to take more than some flowers to forgive you" I take the bouquet and smell them momentarily before I place them on the bed. He motions with his hands for me to follow him, so I slide off the bed and follow him down the hall.

He walks backward, his hands in his leather jacket pockets as he watches me avoid eye contact. He led me all the way down to the kitchen before halting in the doorway, "I know I know. I'm really sorry about what I did freshman year, a true man wouldn't have done that....."

I nod slowly, a little confused at the sudden change in emotion.

He was rocking on the balls of his feet, his eyes scamming mine before he clears his throat. His hand comes up and brushes his hair back before he motions for me to follow once again.

"I'll just show you"

Tilting my head, he slides open the kitchen door to reveal a small table set for two. Various breakfast foods were laid out on the table, a small candle in the middle and he jogs over to pull a seat out for me. I awkwardly sit down, looking around the room before he takes a seat with me and slides over an envelope. I scan over it before taking it reluctantly, folding it open and reading it.

"Dear Miss Y/L/N

After debate between the Board of Education, as well as at the request of Luke Hemmings, your grade on your official transcript for English 102 Class 5578 has been updated from a 52% to a passing grade of 97%"

The paper drops to my lap and I look up at him, his eyes down on his plate as he nervously picked at his food. "Luke wha-"

"I am really sorry Y/n, I fucked up and I wanted to fix this"

I look down at my plate now, thinking about everything that happened in its entirety before looking up and nodding. "Okay"

The rest of the breakfast was silent, aside from the occasional conversation he piped up with. It was foreign to befriend him, after a whole year of despising him- and here he was across the table from me.

As I helped him clean up the dishes, I leaned against the counter before a thought popped into my head, "Wait, how do I know you're not doing this for the game?"

He turns to me and drops the soapy sponge, his eyebrows raised before it clicks in his head. He chuckle and shakes his head at me, "Because the game ended at 8am, Y/n"

[daftpatience]

Do you have any tips or advice for running an artists booth at a convention? I'm thinking about doing it eventually and been wanting to hear from people who have done it before :^)

yeah!!! lemme rattle off a few things off the top a my head also, pardon me 4 using amazon dot ca links for products that i mention. its just easy to find references that way (and often u can look up the brand and find their non-amazon store etc etc)

this got super long so im putting it under a cut!!

• join an artist alley group!! i'm in this artist alley discord and it is a fantastic place to get info about cons, table display ideas, manufacturer recommendations, etc. there are more than just this group out there and i think there are bigger ones but i personally really like this one ^u^ i make a ton of use of the display resources and manu recommendation channels!

• if you can afford it, be choosy about the events you apply to. there are a lot of cons out there that are fantastic, and a lot that aren't worth the trouble, and i don't necessarily mean small vs big cons. some of my fav events are smaller artist alleys local to me, and most of the artists i know avoid informa (fanexpo) like the plague. check out what other artists have to say about past events and keep an eye out for red flags: personally i find cons with really out of date/poorly advertised social medias and websites that have mismatched info are a warning sign of a mismanaged and not well attended event. • you don't need a lot of fancy display stuff to start, those sorts of things you can build up over time. im a fan of getting a ton of my display stuff from the dollar store >:)

when you're ready and need the space to display a good amount of art the main thing you wanna pick up is definitely something that gives your table some verticality, whether that's a pvc pipe style setup, pegboards, or modular cube shelving (we all used to use these big heavy grid ones until the plastic sheet covered ones came out and now we all use those. theyre cuter and lighter and fit better on a table and come in more colours yayay. im sure some people still like the grid ones since they fit gridwall accessories tho) there are lots of other ways to display stuff but these r what i am most familiar with. definitely helps to look at youtube and pinterest and discord groups for display ideas!!

another thing you will want to start is a tablecloth. not every con has their tables already covered! there are those plastic picnic ones at dollar stores, and you can thrift bedsheets/fabric too.

• depending on the type of display and art you do you'll need some way to attach signs/prints/charms/etc to your display. i just moved from blu-tack to magnets but i used to use sewing clips (back when i used the grid cubes) and before then masking tape. all of them are okay and cool! except blu-tack. don't make the same mistakes as me it adds like 40 whole minutes to teardown and it leaves gross oil on the prints after some time. evil

• if you don't have business cards you can make a sign with a qr code that links to you/your shop! there are lots of qr code makers online that u can even customize with images and colours and stuff. there will be people that wanna know how to find you again after a con!

• these days a lot of people don't bring cash to conventions and it's pretty vital to bring some sort of card reader or other digital payment method. most of us use square - they recently made it so that the phone app can accept tap! so you don't need to jump for the expensive physical readers. i've also got a paypal dot me qr code and my etransfer email (i think this is a canadian thing) on a lil sign on the table so people have lots of payment options. usually over 50% of my con income comes from non-cash sales!

• make sure to bring change!! we've forgotten in the past and done okay but it's always handy to be able to make change for people. you'll want a secure place to put cash as well, whether it's a locked moneybox that you keep out of sight or a place on your person (friend of mine uses a fanny pack!) you never wanna leave your table completely unattended but especially when it comes to the moneybox. if it's a multi day con this is an item you mustn't leave at your table overnight.

• keep count of your sales and expenses properly so that you can see how much you made at the end of the con. i really like spreadsheets but you can even just note it down in a book. here's a little example of one con for me:

• you'll want to make a checklist of stock and display stuff to bring, but don't forget to make a list of minor stuff like phone chargers and scissors and tape and glue and pens and paper. multiple types of tape and paper if possible. they don't feel super important until you're stuck because you forgot to make a price sign and have to get by with a sharpie and a napkin. don't let that be you!! dollar store sticky note pads are super useful for this type of thing.

• plan out your prices and do as much prep (counting, sign making, display planning, packing/sorting) as you can beforehand so that the event doesn't feel too stressful. make sure your merchandise is stored in an easily accessible way for you behind the table so you aren't scrambling or rummaging too much when people are asking for stuff!

• similarly, whatever you can leave out for people to just pick/grab themselves, the more of it you're likely to sell. things like stickers and charms are good for this - people like to touch stuff! and it makes it so you don't need to go fishing for items for people as frequently. generally i don't do this with more expensive items just to be safe.

• if you sell prints, people are gonna ask for sleeves to keep them safe, especially at outdoor events. sometimes people ask for sleeves/bags even if they dont buy anything. they're a good idea to have on hand and you can find em for pretty cheap online and for a bit more expensive at dollar stores (i use OPP bags. if you dont wanna use plastic you can always get paper bags/envelopes/glassine bags instead)

• a cushion for the chair is a good idea. lots of conventions have really uncomfy chairs. some folks even bring camping chairs instead!

• pack snacks/lunch/water/drinks/have lunch plans. if you have a table buddy that is able to run out for food that's always nice. you might be sitting but it uses a lot of energy to interface all day!! you'll be exhausted and hungry and it's gonna be important to get enough fuel for your brain to function properly. i genuinely would recommend juice/soda/coffee/energy dink alongside water and food if you wanna live, especially if its a multi day con. get good sleep on days between!

• if you're excited to do trades with other artists during the con, the general etiquette is to wait until later in the day/near the end when the crowds are winding down! it's always okay to ask if someone's doing trades, and don't be upset or press them if they aren't interested or have certain stuff they don't want to trade.

• speaking of con etiquette, depending on the type of vert you are (intro/extro) and or how much customer service experience you have, interfacing can be nervewracking. my general rule is that if they stop to look, i say Hello and let them browse. if they seem interested in my table i try and do some small talk. stuff like How are you/How's the event been for ya/compliments on their outfit/cosplay/merch they have on like pins etc are good! kids and old folks love this. as tiring as it is to do some of my favourite parts of cons is talking to nice people that like my art!! all the folks that say nice things about my work are what keep me drawing ;w; i keep my sketchbook with me to jot down/doodle nice and funny encounters just cus it makes me happy to look back on XD

• when it's teardown time try to put stuff away as neatly as you can. you might be tired and just wanna toss all your stuff into whatever it is you brought it in but i promise future you (especially next-con you) will be so thankful that you put all your price signs into one baggie etc etc.

• speaking of bringing and putting away merch - you'll need a way to get it all from your home/car to your table and back. lots of people use dollies and other types of utility cart (i can guarantee there are a bunch of those grandma grocery ones at your local thrift store!!) - i personally use a big luggage bag and a collapsible wagon, but back in the day we used to CARRY bin after bin of stuff from the car and back in multiple trips which i would NOT reccomend lol. not every convention hall is easily accessible or close to parking so not having to lift stuff if you can avoid it is gonna be vital.