#i'm gonna need the spin-off so we can get more interviews with them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vro0m · 10 months

Text

vro0m's rewatch - 171/332

2016 Russian GP

Okay. Round 4. Let's see if Lewis can turn the tide. Aha and this time I have access to the pre quali build up as well. Ferrari is facing reliability issues. Seb will have a grid penalty for a gearbox change and now they're struggling with Raikkonen's car as well.

Another big story of the weekend is Daniel trying a halo type thing prototype on his car. It's a cockpit basically. It's not entirely covered, like you can get in the car from above like with the halo, but instead of the y-shape of the current halo, the half circle is covered in some kind of windshield. It seems dangerous to put any type of material on that that could shatter and cut the driver. Paul di Resta has some stupid opinion on it like most commentators do at this point, saying things like "most drivers think we should keep it open and be able to see the helmet, that identity" which is. Fucking ridiculous. Apparently though, RBR is pushing for it mostly because they think if they start developing it now it might give them a headstart as far as aero goes compared to Merc which is. On brand. Brundle is saying "shouldn't F1 be risky?" which is insane. He thinks we start with the halo and we end with "driverless cars" to take all the risk away. I'm banging my head on the walls from the stupidity, that's more than I can handle for real. Horner is defending the thing. He says from a purist POV he agrees, but the FIA is pursuing it and their concept is a more "elegant" solution than a "flip-flop style halo" that was tested earlier in the year. I have no idea what he's referring to there. He also says of course a purist wants to keep it open but there's been too many incidents over the years where something like this could have saved someone's life to ignore it.

Massa organised a race in tiny kart cars between Daniel and his own son around his terrace I believe? It's funny af.

Unfortunately, during quali, Lewis has the same engine failure that he got in China and can't take part in Q3, leaving him 10th on the grid. Of course, Nico is on pole.

Lewis is unsurprisingly unhappy about it. He's over being interviewed. In his usual attitude he's looking around, giving short answers, ready to go. He's gonna need a new PU and that means another penalty as well. The journalist says the season is really testing him in terms of making him work hard. "Definitely," he answers with a curt smile.

She asks how he copes with it because he seems to be taking it very well, very chill. (I completely disagree with that.) He takes off his glasses, lightly wipes his eye, makes a hand gesture as he's shifting weight on his feet, shakes his head and smirks. "There's nothing I can do," he says.

He's so frustrated. She says he's still in the fight for the championship and he's not gonna give up. "I never give up, so…" he says, defiantly. That's all.

I don't understand why but in the end he didn't get a penalty for the PU. He does start 10th. Johnny asks him how he feels going into this race starting from 10th after a couple frustrating races. "Pretty chill."

Johnny wheezes. "Is that it?" Lewis smiles, mischievous. "You must be pretty hungry for it though," Johnny goes on, "because you know, you know how important it's gonna be to get a good result, the car is very very good around this track, so you've got an opportunity, do you think, down turn 2?" Lewis says there's a lot of opportunities ahead, he's chill, what will be will be, he'll give it everything he's got. Johnny asks how is his motivation, as good as ever? "Absolutely. I've never ever in my whole life ever struggled with motivation, so that's never even in question."

Toto is interviewed and Crofty reports that many fans on twitter are spinning conspiracy theories about sabotage and Mercedes going against their own champion and shit like that. Is that how all the bs surrounding brocedes began? With stupid fan theories? Toto says he's not gonna answer to every lunatic that tweets and some of them are abusing the team. He denies all allegations and says they feel awful about him not being able to perform as well as he can.

Niki is also against the halo which is preposterous.

Anyway. It's time for the race. Here's how they line up then : Nico, Valtteri, Raikkonen, Massa, Ricciardo, Perez, Seb, Kvyat, Verstappen and Lewis.

Formation lap.

And they're racing!

Just as I was about to say it's a clean start, it's not. Reaaally not. And just as they come out of the first round of contact, a Ferrari spins. I'll wait until we know more to tell you precisely what it's about. But Seb has crashed for sure. VSC. Lewis is up 5 places though! Hulkenberg is also out. Safety car. Perez is limping to the pits on three tyres and apparently Ricciardo has pitted as well. And Kvyat. And Ericsson. Those are looong stops. Gutierrez is in as well. That's a lot of damaged cars! Seb is driving the moped back to the pits himself lol.

Okay so. Someone's RedBull hit Seb from the back. It's Kvyat lol. Maybe these two are still salty about China? It sends Ricciardo, who was wheel to wheel with Seb, wide. Meanwhile in the back, someone also collided with someone's back, who was sent spinning, collected the same person as he went AND another car that made contact with a final car by trying to avoid getting hit. Seb was still able to keep going at that point, but someone hit him again shortly after and that's why he crashed. He is PISSED. Who's the second one then? Safety car coming in. And we go again.

So it's now Nico, Raikkonen, Valtteri, Massa, Lewis, Verstappen, Alonso, Grosjean, Magnussen and Palmer. But Valtteri attacks! He's ahead, and right behind, right at the same time, Lewis overtakes Massa. Verstappen attacks Massa as well but he's not letting it happen twice. Now it's Alonso attacking Verstappen. But that's also not happening either. Kvyat and Ericsson are battling for P15 and Kvyat, who's definitely not my cup of tea, maintains his track position by going off track which is arguable. Especially after already taking out one driver. Lewis is closing on Raikkonen who's closing on Valtteri. Valtteri defends. It's Lewis' turn. He's ahead but well. Raikkonen had to avoid contact there. "Get in there Lewis, come on man!" Bono rejoices on radio. On a on-board replay we see it's Kvyat who ran into Seb BOTH TIMES. So maybe Seb was right about what he told him in China lol. Anyway Lewis is breathing down Valtteri's neck now. Kvyat pits. Ted thinks he's about to retire. Indeed the mechanics are not touching oh no. It was to serve a 10 seconds stop go penalty. He's out again. Gutierrez also gets a drive through penalty for the collision on lap 1.

And it's lap 10. Nico, Valtteri (+5.8), Lewis (+0.4), then Raikkonen, Massa, Verstappen, Alonso, Grosjean, Magnussen, Palmer. Oh and Rio Haryanto is also out of the race. No idea when it happened. Lewis is falling back a bit. Too much dirty air I think. It puts him way closer to Raikkonen now. Like DRS range close. One lap later Lewis is closing on Valtteri again. He sets his best lap of the race, chasing. And Valtteri pits. He's back out in P7. In a real BDE move, Seb went straight to RBR's pit wall to talk to Horner about Kvyat.

And Lewis pits. It's a longer stop than the Williams'. THEY ARE WHEEL TO WHEEL! LEWIS IN THE PIT EXIT AND VALTTERI DOWN THE STRAIGHT! Valtteri stays ahead! Good job, Williams ! But Lewis is still very very close, it's down to the pit stop, really. Come on, come on… Massa pits. Lewis gets on the inside and overtakes Valtteri! He's already on Alonso, who was close ahead. And he made it very easy. And Lewis sets another fastest lap.

That's lap 20. Nico, Raikkonen, Verstappen, Lewis, Valtteri overtakes Alonso ! Massa, Jenson, Perez, and I don't know who's P10 because Raikkonen pits so the graphics disappear. Lewis is clearly ahead, but Valtteri is behind Raikkonen! So that's Lewis back in P3. Nico pits. His stop is shorter. Of course he's still in the lead, 13 seconds ahead of Lewis, who will be P2 as soon as Max pits. And he does. All that's left to do for Lewis is chase Nico. Sainz gets a 10 second time penalty for forcing Palmer off track.

On lap 30 there's racing in the midfield. Lewis is still 12.2 second away from Nico and that gap is not closing much. Raikkonen is P3, Valtteri P4, Massa P5, Verstappen P6, Alonso P7 and then there's a 4 way fight for P8 between Magnussen, Grosjean, Ricciardo and Sainz. Nasr gets a 5 second time penalty for "not respecting race directors instructions regarding turn 2". But then Nico hits traffic and Lewis gains on him like crazy. On lap 34 the gap is down to 8.4. And Verstappen slows down, parks his car on the side. He reported issues on his way to the grid earlier on. "Something with the engine," he says. DRS is disabled, yellow flag. 7.5. "You there, Bono?" Lewis asks. "Affirm Lewis, we’ve got a bit on at the moment mate." And then we immediately hear another message although I doubt they happened simultaneously : "So Lewis it looks like we’ve got a water pressure issue, water pressure issue." That's yet another mechanical issue for Lewis then. He loses speed.

On lap 40, the gap is back up to 11.4. We're in for a boring ending I'm afraid. "Lewis the situation has stabilised," Bono says. So maybe not so boring? Can I hope? But the gap is still expanding, actually. We're almost done and it's 15 seconds. So yeah. Boring in the end.

And it's the end of the race.

So Nico, 25 seconds ahead of Lewis, Raikkonen.

While Nico finishes crowd surfing his team, Raikkonen is casually chatting with dictator Putin in the cool down room. It's insanely cringe each season. Lewis gets there and shakes his hand while still wearing his helmet. Btw Putin is surprisingly short now that I think about it. Nico takes ages before he salutes him as well. Never do you see such a silent cool down room. Everybody is visibly tense and uncomfortable. Lewis stays away, back to the small crowd in the room.

They nicely wait for all the officials to get away before they start with the champagne and Lewis immediately hands his bottle to the Merc representative rather than spray it himself and stand slightly to the side while he drowns Nico in it. He's smiling though, he's not doing it out of spite. When he gets the bottle back he pours some down on the man as well, then cheers with Nico and they both drink, synchronised.

Lewis says it wasn't the easiest first corner. He's happy for the team and he got the points so he's satisfied. He says it was quite easy to overtake Valtteri who didn't seem to be defending. He has no doubt he could have won but then he had a problem with the engine "again". He's calm, not cheerful but not annoyed.

In the end, Brundle asks Nico about the 42 points lead he has. Nico says it's only been 4 races, "Lewis is gonna come back of course you know, I mean he's on it and as motivated as ever so… Early days."

Horner says he could only apologise to Seb as it was Kvyat's fault, btw.

In the post race, Lewis seems satisfied. He thanks the guys who flew over the previous night to fix his car and his engineers who stayed up late. About the water pressure issue, he says he's just happy he was able to finish the race. He says it wasn't due to pushing too hard, it's just another failure. "We just need to do a better job," he says, given they have few engines to go around for the year. The journalist says they get a lot of tweets from his fans saying it seems like the team has decided it was Nico's turn to win the title and a lot of conspiracy theories. His face is uncharacteristically controlled, I can't tell what he's thinking about this, he's usually so easy to read… He says what he can say is his side of the garage, his mechanics, are definitely having a hard time. He hums. Pause.

He has complete confidence and faith in them. It's an unusual situation for them (the mechanics), the majority of them were on Nico's car the previous year, and Nico's current guys were with him since he's come to the team, he smiles. "And all of a sudden," he shrugs, "you know, we've swapped."

He shakes his head. "For no apparent reason, but… that is not the reason why we're having these issues they're somewhere else, I don't know where these little issues are coming from but for sure, the team, the guys in the background, they need to work hard to try and rectify these." He says in testing they did 800 km a day and the car was thought to be bulletproof. "And all of a sudden… Hah!", he chuckles shortly," We're having all these problems so… No I would say that… Don't jump the gun." He smiles, very very calmly, confidently. "I don't believe that that's happened, it's not happened in the last three years and I don't have any reason to believe that would happen now."

Huh. That's very very interesting. First of all I didn't know about the mechanics thing. So I went to read to see what that's about. Nico says it was because the two sides of the garage were at war and Toto decided to swap them to stop the feud. Something that was also stated by Mercedes. Lewis said later in the season he would tell his true feelings about it only 10 years later. Anyway it seems it will come up again during the year so we'll see. Lewis said it threw him off basically. Which is not surprising just generally speaking but also specifically when it comes to him. I mean we've talked at length about his trust issues lol. It must have shaken him.

Second of all, he's very very calm and confident about his answers. I feel no hint of the paranoia he sometimes shows when he gets under pressure at that point. I would have expected him to start ruminating already but it's not the case. Either he's learnt to lie better or he's sincerely not worried about it. I would go for the second option because I don't believe for one second he's capable of hiding how he feels to this day lol. It's good to see, because you can tell he's evolving. I'm doubting that it will last in the long run though.

Brundle says right after the interview he felt on the podium he was in the waiting room for the dentist and none of them seemed as happy as they should've been. He says Lewis has a thousand yard stare. He indeed seemed weirdly controlled. Johnny mentions that during the drivers parade he also was only able to get 3-word answers out of him and you wished he'd be slightly more outgoing. Then Brundle points out he was again sitting alone at the front. I feel like they're mixing things up. Lewis never likes to talk to them or anyone before the races, but that might also just be a matter of focus. It's very distracting having to do all of that right before you have to put such a performance in. Most other athletes don't have to do that. But yes, even through the thick composure you can tell Lewis is unhappy about the mechanics situation, and the engine failures of course. In his post race interview, the moment he talks about the swap is the only moment the composure slightly breaks. He's gracious towards the mechanics because he knows they don't wanna be working with him either, but he also says "we need to do a better job" and then "they need to work hard and rectify [the issues]" which tells me he thinks globally the team isn't doing its best at the moment.

Oh I paused to write all that and actually Johnny does say to Brundle he doesn't mind Lewis separating himself from the grid because that's him getting himself in his bubble and focusing on the job at hand.

Nico is happy but he also points out Lewis had issues. He's asked if he can take that confidence into a straight fight with Lewis, which they haven't had yet this year. He says that's what he's here for. That's the best racing "because he's the benchmark in the end," he smiles. He looks forward to it happening again. It's always gonna be a hard battle against him. He's still as motivated and quick as ever. She asks if he misses it, if he gets the same sense of achievement without it. He says he can't say he really missed it because it's awesome to win, he wants to win and it doesn't matter how. "But of course the ecstatic feeling isn't there, it's there when I win a battle against Lewis, you know? That's what really gets the ultimate thrill." Omg you guys are so gay.

#f1 #lewis hamilton #vro0m's race reviews #2016 #2016 russian gp

10 notes · View notes

al-dante · 2 years

Text

Interview No.0 - Dante

[The footage starts with them both in what seems to be a truck. The interior of the bus is unkempt, with articles of clothing and empty food containers on the floor.]

Montgomery: “I’m excited. Are you? I mean, nobody has a chance like this one. I’m practically shaking, lookit.”

[The camera pans to one of Montgomery’s trembling hands, while the other held a microphone and a notepad.]

Montgomery: “Are you recording right now? Come on, you’re gonna waste the footage!”

Camera Man: [Unintelligible]

Montgomery: “Lucky. Not rich. I hadn’t tested the luck that far, yet. Tell you what, after all this, let’s go get a lottery ticket. We'll see how far my luck goes, alright?”

[The camera footage cuts before starting again in a dilapidated area. It seems to be the Backstreets of District 4. Montgomery and the Camera Man cautiously approach what seems to be a large train. It’s covered in blood.]

Montgomery: “So those rumors were true… That’s insane. Who could drive this thing into a crowd of people and sleep peacefully at night?”

[There's a noise of people in distress. There’s a sudden flash of light, and it goes quiet for a few moments. The camera adjusts accordingly.]

[The camera abruptly cuts again. It starts again, now with a little lost context, but Montgomery still manages to catch the other man off guard.]

Montgomery: “G-Good evening, sir…! I'm Montgomery with Ladybug News. We're here for the scheduled interview with you. Are you Dante?”

Dante: <Oh- That was today? Hold on- Er... Hello. Yes, that’s me. It is a pleasure to meet you.>

Montgomery: “Are you busy right now? We can come back later.”

Dante: <No, no. That won't be necessary. Let us speak in private… As private as we can be, out here.>

[Dante leans against the blood-soaked train. It makes a slight squish sound. It disgusts everyone, but they continue anyway.]

Montgomery: “... Well, thank you for agreeing to this interview. Everyone has been curious about the new company ever since the previous fall of L Corp.”

Dante: <You’re welcome. I am happy to clear up anyone’s suspicions about the Company. We are always happy to answer any questions people have about us, what we do, and what our company is all about. With that, you may begin when you are ready.>

Montgomery: “Of course, of course. You're one executive manager of a branch we were able to get a hold of. And... Well, tell me about yourself, Dante. We'd love to get to know you!”

Dante: <Alright, let me see. I am the executive manager of Limbus Company. I am one of many executive managers in my sector. My job is to direct my team as they go through the ruins of the fallen previous corporation to get resources and EGO equipment.>

[Dante pulls out a small first aid kit from his coat to show off to both Montgomery and the Camera Man. He quickly puts it away.]

Dante: <I also carry bandages with me at all times in order to help take care of my crew. How’s that?>

Montgomery: “Wow, you sound like you care deeply about your employees.”

Dante: <Well, I do. It’s more than just money and profits to me. Of course, should they need it, I can also be very strict with them. That comes with being the executive manager of the company.>

Montgomery: “Good to hear. Why did you join Limbus Company?”

Dante: <... I don’t remember.>

Montgomery: “You don’t?”

[The hands on Dantes's clock face spin rapidly once before speaking again.]

Dante: <This was the only place that would hire me. Next question.>

[Montgomery awkwardly looks back at the camera before continuing on.]

Montgomery: “Okay... Tell us about your education.”

Dante: <I have a Communication Degree.>

Montgomery: “Fancy. What for? Did you plan to work in media?”

Dante: <I wanted to be an actor.>

Montgomery: “Elaborate on that a little bit.”

Dante: <No.>

Montgomery: “... Alright. These next questions should be less extreme. What are your thoughts on your employees? Do you have any favorites, being the manager and all?”

Dante: <Hmmmm, my favorites? I’d have to say I have a few. My favorite sinners are… Yi Sang, Don Quixote, and Faust. They are some of the most trustworthy sinners I have ever worked with so far and I truly enjoy spending time with them. I also enjoy spending time with Ishmael and Rodion during off-time, as they both are a good company to speak with. Of course, I love all my employees equally, these are just the ones I can think of off the top of my head.>

Montgomery: “How do the others describe you?”

Dante: <Well, my employees have a lot of different opinions about me. I try my best to take good care of all of them. I am either hated, loved, or respected by my sinners, and they all have different descriptions of me, if you ask them.>

Montgomery: “We're planning on holding interviews with the other sinners. Do you have any advice on how to talk to them?"

Dante: <Advice… Er… Don’t overstep your boundaries. Even I don’t know how to speak with them most of the time.>

Montgomery: “Thank you for agreeing to our interview on such short notice! We'll inform you when we release this to the public.”

Dante: <It is my pleasure to have been the one interviewed! I hope that the public sees us in a more positive light when the interview has been shared. With that said, it has been an honor to be able to answer your questions.>

[Montgomery looks over to something off-camera. He looks unnerved.]

Dante: <Is something wrong?>

Montgomery: “Um... That guy with the red gaze staring at us... Is he with you?”

[Dante looks over, the camera quickly pans to look over at the said man. The man quickly looks away.]

Dante: <That’s just Vergilius.>

Montgomery: “He looks terrifying.”

Dante: <He means no harm.>

Montgomery: “We should get going.”

Dante: <Would you like to speak with him? I’m sure he has something to say- >

Montgomery: “No- No. Thank you, we’re good.”

[The recording abruptly stops here.]

9 notes · View notes

levyfiles · 2 years

Note

I honestly think it would do Watcher a lot of good to hire a professional Social Media Manager and Marketing Manager. They all have a lot riding on this company.

They also need to work on getting actual sponsorship opportunities. We have Pretty Historic, why not reach out to some make up brands to partner with? For Worth a Shot you telling me no alcohol brand would have wanted to slap some branding in there. I know they want so badly to be above BF but they need to realize that if you want to run a corporation and entertainment company you NEED to diversify and sometimes do some more grown up corporate stuff. And you can do that without losing soul and heart.

They’ve also really dropped the ball on the merch for some reason? Like why didn’t Worth a Shot, the newest AYS and TMS get any merch drops? Why release the Camp Watcher shirts WEEKS after the episode?

Also I’d really like to see them actually bring light to the folks behind the scenes. Let me see more TJ, Mark, Brittany, Kate, Katie, etc. Hell they should be on the website with a little profile. Do some social media spots of those who make the magic which would be a big middle finger to Buzzfeed. Which I think is another reason that they need maybe a more seasoned social media person to be honest. Because like…we’re getting memes, jokes about Stranger Things and the Professor’s Death weird TikToks that feel like Shipping fancams.

I think that maybe they should be consulting with maybe the Try Guys who have been running a successful solo company for a while now. Because honestly I think if Watcher doesn’t shape up it might not last a decade.

I agree with a lot of this especially about the merch situation. I don't want to get into my depth of disappointment regarding that because it's a whole other kettle of fish

BUT

I think that the current work on Watcher's socials does effectively speak to an audience and it's deeply necessary to give Watcher a lasting campaign of influence online because Youths are gonna Youth. The Stranger Things thing was a bad look imo but that's beside my point. My issue is that there needs to be balance. Putting someone who is already working their butt off to make their in-jokes happen and succeeding into the position of all-around fan engagement management is going to let a lot of stuff fall through the cracks. The merch issue, the Patreon issue and the lack of perks for higher tiers notwithstanding. All of this stuff sours your relationship with fans and it should be apparent by the slow decline of their patrons since they appeared to have peaked at 4k before dropping again.

I was recently reading a rant from another fan in a private space saying they want to share Watcher stuff with friends but being a bit older, the socials are not for anyone older than 25 to follow. This is not a failing on the part of their social media manager because she's doing what they hired her to do but they need to hire someone to work next to her to do something that diversifies the reach via marketing. And mostly, both people need to be in LA. Their social media game wasn't anywhere as hot as it was when Simone was in LA, I can't even lie. Having someone around who just knows when to pull out their camera and document boosts fan engagement so much, I'm surprised they haven't buckled down to make that a normal thing.

The Try Guys actually had a trypod episode where they interviewed their social media manager. If you can find it and give it a watch, you'll understand very very quickly why marketing is non issue for them and the Try Guys barely have to lift a finger to plan that stuff. It's almost all her direction. It's a lot of work but she has a team as well.

Idk, I think it just aggravates me more because it's become apparent they are doing really well and they're making huge strides better than any company that started the way they did but I don't want them to waste it acting like they need to keep plates spinning with a small team. You've got the resources! Use them!

#watcher #discourse tag

26 notes · View notes

ren-therose · 3 years

Text

Prove Your Mine

Bo Burnham X F!Reader (WC: 2.5k)

Summary: Bo is being interviewed when he sees another guy bothering you. Though you handle it, he still wants to prove to you that no one else can have you.

Warnings: My most graphic smut so MINORS DNI. TW: inappropriate sexual misconduct in the workplace. oral sex f receiving. penetrative unprotected sex. maybe a little on the breeding side. possessive bo

A/N: As I said, my most graphic fic, so be warned. I have other bo content that doesn't get as detailed (though still very descriptive), and they can be found here. Comment, like, share, yadada, you all know the drill.

Thank you to the two requests that inspired this piece! They are linked here and here if you're curious.

---

Behind the glass of the recording room, you leaned back as Bo worked his boyish charm as the interviewer continued to ask question after question. It wasn't often that you were able to join Bo, especially since you were doing a lot to provide for yourself with our own career (it was that ambition that drew him to you in the first place). When your schedule allowed you to join him for a press day, you couldn't help but jump on top of him and give him the biggest hug you could muster. Meetings with Netflix, a few magazines and a nice lunch in LA, you were now enjoying the way he lit up talking about the work he does for this radio show.

You leaned back in the office chair, leg crossed over the other, with your foot bouncing. You arms were perched on the sides of the chair, showing off you black blouse and blue jeans that matched him. Your hair was half up and half down, casual, but still nice. Bo never got tired of how you looked so good all the time: when you wake up next to him, when you come home from work after a long day, or being sick in the bathroom while he holds your hair back. He also loved that you made an effort to match, down to the high tops you wore.

"Yeah no, I love making my own content, because who the fuck else is gonna understand what I go through? So I throw the comedy back in their faces, trying to get them to see the tru-what? Oh shit, I can't say fuck? OR SHIT??" Bo eyes widen and he collapses back into his chair, hands gripping his hair. "Jesus christ, I wish I had known before, I'm sooo so sorry, can we keep going?"

You laugh, as the interviewer explains that anything more than two fucks will make the show R-rated, so he needs to watch it. As you smile, making eye contact for a brief second, the door behind you opens and man is standing next to you, leaning against the tabel as he stares at your boyfriend.

"Is this that fucking comedian from like, 2010 or some shit?"

You uncross your legs and spin to face this asshat face on. "What did you just say about him?"

The man's eyebrow quirks up, raking his eyes over you with a smirk. "Oh, I'm sorry, are you a fan? I didn't mean to offend you; I just thought someone as pretty as you would have better taste than a washup musici-"

You launch out of your seat and plant yourself between the man and the window.

"Already, I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but you have a lot of your information. Maybe do some research on the people who are going to be working with you" you say, jabbing a finger into the man's chest, pushing him slightly as you sit back down, softly letting out a string of insults under your breath.

The man looks surprised, and also impressed. You glance at Bo, whose brow was furrowed.

Shit, he must have seen that. You think to yourself.

You give him a thumbs up and a big smile as he looks back at the interviewer, continuing on. Your cheesy grin drops and your arms cross as the man leans back against the desk to stare at you once more.

"Usually, I'm not into a woman who is so in control-"

"How surprising," you interject, rolling your eyes.

"Aha. But, your bossiness is highly attractive..."

He leans forward, eyes landing on the open buttons of your shirt before coming back up to your face.

You scoff, "As appealing as it is to lie and say I'm single and simple don't want to go out with you, I actually have a boyfriend I love and isn't a dick, so I won't be leaving him anytime soon."

With that, you roll away from him to look at Bo. He is laughing, slapping his leg and running his hands through his hair. You could tell he was probably reaching his limit, and move to the intercom connected to the earpieces he and the interviewer had. As you press the button, the douchebag in a suit leans over your shoulder, brushing the hair off your neck and leaning down to your ear to whisper "but could he fuck you like I could?"

Your finger flies off the button as Bo's jaw drops at the words filling his head. Before he can even get out of his seat, you are grabbing the man by his lapels and pushing him against the nearest wall.

"Listen, you little bitch-ass, sexist, predatory fuck," you reach down and grab the man by the crotch, twisting his balls and dick in your fist, "first, you're gonna apologize to me. Second, my boyfriend just saw all of that, so you get to deal with that and apologize to him as well. Then, you're gonna go tell your manager that I want to speak to her, and if you even attempt to twist (as you squeeze him tighter) the truth, remember the two other witnesses who heard what you said."

The mans face was beet red as sweat dripped down his temple. He was barely breathing, afraid to move. "Answer me, fucker!"

"Yes! Yes!" he cries, a single tear falling from his eye.

"Good!" you say cheerfully, letting go of the man's junk. Just as he tries to scurry away, you grab his arm and say "by the way, it's kinda small, you might need some kind of enhancer because I wasn't impressed at all."

The man looks like he might explode, but rather than risk castration, he practically runs out the door.

"Uhh, do you think she's got it" you hear a voice say over the speaker.

You eyes widen as you realize the mic was on the entire. time.

Bo raises his eyebrows, a clear code for "da fuck babe?"

"Yeah. She's got it. Are we done here?"

When Bo exited the booth, you were sitting with your face in your hands, embarrassed by the altercation that everyone just heard and saw.

"Hey Dick Crusher," he mocks, coming to pull you up.

"Noooo, please don't say that Bo," you whine, standing up, allowing him to wrap his arms around you and deliver a bear hug.

"Oh no, that is never going away. That was incredible. Did you get that from Deadpool?"

You pull away to look up at him and reply, "how did you know?"

"Because every guy in the movie theatre collectively groaned at just the idea of being manhandled that way," he said with a shudder, turning to put his arm around you as you both exited the room.

"You're not mad?"

Bo stops and turns to you, surprise etched on his face. "W-why would I be mad at you babe? It's not like you enabled him. He was eye-fucking you the minute he walked in the room."

You look down, reaching to button your top to cover your chest a little more.

"Hey, babe, you don't have to do that. He just needs to learn to noT BE A PERV!" Bo yells down the hall. You laugh, wrapping your arm around his waist as you leave the building.

---

You get back to your place after a ride that consisted of talking about how weird the recording booth smelled and that they guy wanted to interview after that 'horrifying and impressive' tiff.

When you get inside, Bo goes in to put down your purse and keys on the table as you pull off your shoes by the door. Leaned over, your hair falls to the side and your shirt gapes away slightly, allowing your boyfriend to see the soft slopes of your breast. As you go to stand up, Bo stalks towards you, trapping you between him and the door.

"Uuhh, hi?" you say nervously. You still got butterflies around him, even after knowing him for so long.

Bo reaches up to your top, unbuttoning your top one slowly, pulling it away from your chest as he goes to the next one. Instead of undoing the button though, he drops his hands down to your ass, patting you gently before lifting you up the door. You are now level with him as he goes back to your buttons. His breath is warm against your neck, much more comforting than that creep could have ever been.

"Are you thinking about the way he breathed on you?"

The hairs on your neck stood up as he read your mind, moving to the third button now.

"Hm? You want to answer that?"

You breath out softly, wrapping your fingers in his hair as you reply, "nothing feels like you Bo. Only you can make me feel good..." you whisper, leaning your head back against the door as he continues to ghost over your neck. He has finished unbuttoning you and was pulling the top away to reveal your bra and abdomen.

"You got that right." He plants a wet kiss on the crook of your neck, causing you to gasp loudly. "You're fucking mine."

You pull him by the hair so that you can see his eyes as you say the next two words: "Prove it."

The next thing you know, you're being thrown on the bed as he attacks your mouth, tongues battling for dominance. His knee is between your legs as you grind against him, trying to find relief in the friction he granted you. He moved from your lips to your jaw, under your neck to your collarbone. He is marking each place his mouth lands, littering hickeys and love bites like it was the only way to claim you.

You moan, arching your back into his mouth, giving him the opportunity to slip his hands underneath you and unclasping your bra. Once it is thrown somewhere in the room, he attacks your breast, assaulting your nipple with his tongue while his hand squeezes your ass.

"He fucking stared at my tiddies," he mumbles into your chest, causing you to laugh. He pulls off of you and stares with concern and annoyance.

"Uh, I'm pretty sure they were my tiddies," you smirk, shimming your chest in his face.

"Nope. Your tiddies are my tiddies." He bites your nipple softly, causing you to cry out as the throbbing between your legs increased.

"God, Bo, I''m yours, I'm all yoouurrs..." you groan, running your hands through your own hair, pushing it out of your face.

Bo continues to make his way down your body, reaching your jeans with frustration. He sits up and unzips your pants before shimming you out of them, panties and all. Before he goes down, he removes his shirt and pants, giving you the chance to admire the man that you loved.

"And all of that is mine," you growl.

"That's fucking right," he says before diving between your legs. The time to tease is gone, all he wants is for you to be in tears over what he can do to you.

You're breathing is shallow as he runs his tongue through your folds over and over, the wet friction on your clit driving you crazy. One hand in his hair, the other gripping your breast, you feel yourself reaching the a high.

"Bo don't stop, I'm gonna cum, you're gonna m-make me c-c-OH!"

You're arching into his mouth before you can finish your sentence, his arm holding you in place as you ride out your high...on his face.

As you try to catch your breath, Bo sits up, revealing his painfully hard and dripping cock.

"I'm gonna take that fucking pussy and remind you of why it's mine," he mutters, almost more to himself than you. He wasn't the jealous type, but the way that guy had tried to manhandle you in front of him? It pissed him the fuck off.

He pumped himself a few more times before lining up at your entrance. You prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him and you, just barely connecting.

"Show me Bo. Make me yours."

That statement was all the encouragement Bo needed as he slid into you, taking his time to really stretch you out. He was big, and you were filled by his cock, in ways you had never been before. You could feel him in your stomach if you pressed your hand bellow your naval.

The feeling made you weak and your elbows gave as you collapsed against the bed.

"Always so tight for me. So wet. And it's all for me, no one else," Bo whispers, beginning to slowly rock his hips as he moves inside of you. Your body reacts, contracting around him, causing to twitch.

"Hey, I won't last if you squeeze me like that," he pants, already feeling like he could paint your inner walls with his load.

You pull his face down to yours, kissing him gently before stating: "show me what no one else can do."

Bo's hips snap into to you, causing a sharp gasp to escape you. He continues to rail you into the mattress, barely able to completely sheath himself inside of you because of his size. You moan as you reach behind you to grip a pillow, pulling it over your face as you take him with each thrust. You finally throw the pillow and open your eyes to see him holding your thighs as he slams into you relentlessly.

The site of that alone would have made you cum had it not been for the fact that he just so happened to slide his hand down to your already sensitive bud and tweak it in circles. You cry out, tears filling your eyes at the stimulation.

"Bo, I need you to come inside me, please, make me yours baby, I need your cum inside me..."

Bo's eyes roll into the back of his head but he returns his focus to watching your face scrunch at the beginning of your climax.

"Cum for me baby, I'll cum inside you, just squeeze my co-oh, yes, just like that baby, fuck"

You let out a short scream before biting your wrist, your head pulling back as you cream his dick, pulsating and throbbing around him as he spills into you, warm and sticky as he fills you.

"You're mine Y/n. All mine baby," he grunts, bucking into you a few more times as he rides out his high.

---

Both showered and clean, you were cuddled in bed together, your legs in his lap as he rubbed your feet and you played with his hair at the nape of his neck.

"So he was really trying to diss me like that? Why would they invite me if they don't fucking like me?"

You laugh, shaking your head as you reply, "I know, right? It was awful, and who treats a guest like that? Such a creep."

"Hey."

"hey."

"Thanks for standing up for me."

"I love you Bo."

"I love you more, Y/N."

----

A/N: Now this, this was my most graphic fic yet, jesus. I hope you enjoyed- feel free to send in some more requests or suggestions. I like the feedback and reading your comments and reblogs! Bo Burnham masterlist and TAGLIST linked here.

Lots of love and don't forget to pee, wash your hands and clean your toys.

Taglist: @allexthakatt @shes-a-killer-queen-39 @ginger-abreu @dreamingofwolves @beeblisss @toread-fic

@mid-sommared

#bo burnham #bo burnham x y/n #bo burnham jealousy #jealousy #oh bo #bo yo #bo's hoes #bo burnham smut #bo burnham fanfic #smut writer #reblog plz

172 notes · View notes

bisexualhobi · 3 years

Note

im so ashamed of being an army (like i am most of the time tbh) and so disappointed in bts,,,, from calling out bullying and discrimination in a unicef campaign to completely glossing over - and thus endorsing - violent fan behavior... even if this little thing they did wasn't scripted (it totally was, it was necessary to put an end to the corden fiasco and redeem him in the eyes of the fandom) calling out james was correct, BUT AGREEING WITH LARGE RABID AND VIOLENT FRINGES OF YOUR FANDOM???? MAKING THEM FEEL IMPORTANT AND RIGHTEOUS???????? WHO ARE WE KIDDING.

They could have simply said they don't condone death threats and moved on, they have called out their fans for stalking them before, what's the issue now?????

okay. i'm gonna ramble a little but i need to get this off my chest. i say this as someone who works in PR so i'm talking from hands on experience btw.

one of the cornerstones of hybe's positioning for bts has always been victimization. like i don't think if you guys notice this but it's not NORMAL to have an entire fandom whose introduction to the group is "they are hated by everyone they came from the wittle small company and everyone bullied them these are all the receipts of that one time in 2015 a variety host was rude to them"

the moment you come into the bts fandom the FIRST thing armys tell you is "bts only has army" "all the other groups and the entire industry is plotting against them" "they were the underdogs so everything they do now has a reason" and hybe ACTIVELY feeds these narratives and rewards fans for this blind devotion. do you think it's a coincidence that every single time bts has a milestone celebration namjoon makes sure to mention "the bad years"? reminding everyone of when they were mistreated? bringing up the times when you were kicked while you're on top of the world is really fucking lame.

the thing hybe has failed to take into account is that yes, everybody loves an underdog story and rooting for the outcast. but when you stopped being an underdog 5 years ago a big chunk of your relatability and attraction is lost. hybe built bts' ethos as the "scrappy runt of the litter company" with the "relatable, goofy, humble group who aren't good at being the perfect idols" but that is literally a bygone era. bts have been the biggest act on the planet for 3 years now and hybe is literally the biggest entertainment company in asia.

so what do you do when you can no longer use the underdog story? you reinforce with your built in fandom that bts only has army. you spin the story to make bts look as helpless and hated as possible, with the rest of the industry plotting against them because they're scared of their power. because they're scared of army. you reward armys for being their personal defense squad and feed their delusions while guilt tripping them into supporting every decision the company makes because "they care for bts" and "the members have complete control over their management". by painting the situation as Us vs. Them you isolate the fandom and ensure complete loyalty not only to bts, but to the company.

bts is never EVER going to call out their fandom being racist, misogynistic and bullies in defense of the group and the company. hybe allowed armys to go unchecked for too long, so now they could risk losing money and tarnishing their image if bts were to call out the very thing they created. bts themselves are WELL AWARE of all the vile shit their fans do, such as doxxing black people, sending death threats to reporters, making deep fakes of female idols, harassing celebrities and journalists and anyone who so much as looks at them the wrong way. and they just accepted it with the james corden interview. they don't care about calling it out because the more the fandom perceives bts as the victims, the fiercest their loyalty is and the more cash that goes into hybe.

#asks #bts #james corden

61 notes · View notes

jean-kayak · 4 years

Text

Anon Request: As someone tired of Y/N’s being spineless cowards around fangirls that disrespect her and cause her issues cuz they love her bf, let’s have Atsumu, Terushima, Oikawa, and Sakusa react to their usually gentle black!gf clocking these bitches with no hesitation. She’s nice and tried to avoid them, but they wanted to intimidate her and they were greeted with a fist to the face with the force of a pro-boxer.

Fangirl: Stay away from him! He belongs to us!

Y/N: 🙂 *cocks back and punches her before looking at other fangirls* Anyone else? No? Good, I’m getting my back blown out after this anyways *goes to her bf*

A/N: lmfao, anon, thank you for giving me a good laugh with this one

Characters: timeskip!Miya Atsumu, Terushima Yuuji, Oikawa Tooru, Sakusa Kiyoomi

🏐This was one of his games that you could finally go to, your schedule finally being cleared up

🏐It definitely wasn't the same watching your boyfriend play on TV, once again amazed at your boyfriend's talent

🏐He had scored the game winning point, his teammates and the crowd growing wild

🏐You hadn't told him you were coming, wanting to surprise him, so you waited outside of the stands, but you could see the many reporters lined up to interview him

🏐When he was done, you couldn't help but bounce on the balls of your feet, ready to see his reaction

🏐He doesn't notice you at first, so you call his name, and he looks around, his eyes widening when he spots you, and he's running over to you quickly, giving you a huge, sweaty hug

🏐"What're ya doing here?" he asks in disbelief, and you respond that you finally had free time from work

🏐He gives you another hug despite your protests before peppering your face in kisses, and your giggles stop along with his kisses when someone calls his name

🏐You both look and see a group of women all with his jersey number on them, and you instantly recognize them as the fangirls that you've noticed always hanging around whenever he did interviews

🏐He keeps his arm around your waist, and he steps a little closer to them. "Can I help ya?"

🏐You don't miss the way they eye you, and you raise an eyebrow at them

🏐"Is she your sister?"

🏐You laugh beside yourself at the petty question, not even being the least bothered by it, and Atsumu denies it, telling them that you're his girlfriend

🏐They all seemed more than shocked. "Oh," one of them starts. "I just expected her to be different?"

🏐Now you're pissed. Atsumu starts to defend you but you cut him off. "No, no, it's alright. They clearly have something to say," you start, stepping forward. "So, if you do. Say it."

🏐They all look between each other as you raise your eyebrows. "Atsumu there's no way you'd go for someone like her--"

🏐You deck her in the face, rolling your eyes when he falls onto the floor like a dramatic bitch

🏐"Oh, no, it looks like my hand slipped," you reply sarcastically as Atsumu's eyes widen, never seeing you or expecting you to do this

🏐You start walking away, stepping over the girl rolling on the ground holding her nose before turning to Atsumu. "Babe, you gotta get changed, right? Let's go."

🏐He jumps out of the shock he was in, glancing down at the girl on the ground, who's now being helped up by her friends before he runs after you

✂️"I know, I'm sorry. I'll remember next time," and you roll your eyes at the phrase that he says every time he forgets

✂️You were visiting your boyfriend at work because he had an annoying habit of forgetting his lunch

✂️You walk into the salon, seeing Terushima immediately, and his eyes widen in surprise before turning into a guilty smirk when you hold up the food

✂️"What did I tell you?" you scold when you walk up to him, and he kisses your forehead as he takes the food from you

✂️He thanks you again before giving you a soft kiss on the lips, and you're walking towards the door when you hear it

✂️"You know, Yuuji, you're pretty cute. Did I ever tell you that?"

✂️You stop in your tracks, spinning around on your heels to see his client blatantly flirting with him when you know she saw you interacting with him

✂️He responds with an awkward chuckle as he rubs the back of his neck, stating that he's taken, glancing your way

✂️"Oh, I didn't notice," she replies, and you watch her with a deadpanned look

✂️You walk up beside him, tiltling your head to the side

✂️"You need something?"

✂️She doesn't even seemed phased, giving you a simple shrug that makes you narrow your eyes at her

✂️This was sort of a regular occurrence, but no one's been this bold before, and you always caught the stares from other women, because duh your boyfriend's hot

✂️"This your girlfriend?" she asks, distain in her voice. "She seems like a bitch."

✂️"Excuse me?"

✂️"Aww, don't be like that. Most guys lower their standards, you know?" You cut her off, your fist connecting with her face before Terushima can even blink

✂️She actually tries to fight you back, but she obviously loses, getting to the point where her only goal is getting you off of her

✂️Terushima's thinking that's my girl, but then he's like oh shit, I have to stop this LMFAO

✂️He's quickly pulls you off of her, having a surprisingly hard time doing so

✂️"You chose the wrong one, bitch. Show your face here again and see what happens." She's quick to leave, and when you finally calm down, you realized that you just beat up someone in public, and Terushima almost loses his job 💀

🇦🇷You both stop when you hear someone call his name, both of you turning your attention towards the voice

🇦🇷You were walking out the gym hand-in-hand with your boyfriend going somewhere to celebrate after another win

🇦🇷When you walk out of the gym, the crowd has pretty much disappear due to Oikawa having a ton of interviews

🇦🇷He wraps his arm around you as you both laugh at an inside joke that you both had before he plants a kiss to your forehead

🇦🇷There's a small group of women with flags and wearing your boyfriend's jersey and he gives them a polite smile

🇦🇷This is nothing new for either of you, both of you already knowing what they want

🇦🇷He asks if they want a picture, already knowing the answer, and you easily take the pictures, this routine like clockwork to you

🇦🇷They giggle happily as you hand the phone back to one of them, and they all thank him before one of them speaks up

🇦🇷"Uh, this might sound weird, but are you seeing anyone?" You blink dumbly at her, like they didn't just see the two of you together

🇦🇷Oikawa has the same look on his face as he walks back to you, wrapping an arm around your waist before kissing your temple as he gives them a duh look, silently answering her question

🇦🇷"Are you sure?" another asks, and both you and Oikawa frown at the same time, as you feel yourself scoff

🇦🇷"More than anything in the world," he responds confidently

🇦🇷This isn't the first time fangirls have tried to come between your relationship, and he'll be damned if he lets it happen again

🇦🇷They all give each other questionable looks as you roll your eyes

🇦🇷"Is there a problem?" The tone in your voice surprises him, this being the first time he's heard aggression towards someone

🇦🇷"No, of course not," one answers sarcastically before reaching over and tugging your boyfriend over to them, the force so hard that he almost falls over. "We just think he would look better, happier with one of us."

🇦🇷You chuckle as you shake your head, and you reach over to take your hand off of your boyfriend, but she grabs at your wrist

🇦🇷Your reflexes are quick to kick in, and you yank both yours and Oikawa's wrist out of her grip before punching her in the face, probably harder than you needed to, but you were fucking pissed

🇦🇷Another girl tries to lunge for you, but you buck at her, making her quickly recoil. "You trynna get hit too?"

🇦🇷Oikawa's more than surprised, but he quickly puts his hand in yours before pulling you away from them with a proud smirk on his face

😷He sighs heavily as he turns to see a couple of women walking towards the both of you, his shoulders slumping slightly

😷Sakusa's never been a big fan of groups of people coming up to him after games, his number one priority getting home and relaxing after his game

😷You understand this pretty well, always helping him make his way out of the gym trying to find the route with the lowest chance of coming in contact with a lot of people

😷You had just made it out the doors, and Sakusa's about to take a breath of relief when he hears someone yelling his name

😷He's not really used to having "fangirls" a term that you use, and bottom line, he doesn't like it

😷They always crowd him, always trying to pry into his personal life, which is why he was so drawn to you when you first met

😷You were the complete opposite, more on the gentle, quieter side which he appreciated, liking that he could come home to you after a lot of excitement and just relax

😷"I'm sorry, but Sakusa doesn't really do pictures," you speak up, another reason why he really appreciates you, showing you by giving your hand a soft squeeze

😷But to his dismay, they don't back down, they actually turn pretty hostile pretty quickly

😷"Oh, relax, it's just one picture," she argues, and you give her a small smile

😷"I know, but seriously, he doesn't really care for them," you try again, and they both scoff

😷"What are you? His babysitter?" You raise your eyebrows at them as you turn your body towards them

😷"I'm his girlfriend. And I'm telling you that he doesn't want a picture."

😷"Well, you seem like a piece of shit girlfriend." You run your tongue over your teeth as you nod your head, and she actually has the audacity to try and reach for you

😷Before Sakusa can stop her, you dodge her hand before clocking her in the face, she hunches over in pain

😷The other girl tries to do the same, but you repeat your actions, putting her in the same position as her friend

😷"You got some audacity you dumb bitch, the fuck?"

😷To say the least, Sakusa is floored, your actions he least expected to come from you

😷"Hope you enjoy your broken nose. I'm gonna enjoy my boyfriend fucking his piece of shit girlfriend into next week."

😷Sakusa chokes as you pull him away, his face heating up at your words

😷"Did you really have to end with that?"

#atsumu headcanons #terushima headcanons #oikawa headcanons #sakusa headcanons #miya atsumu x black reader #terushima yuuji x black reader #oikawa tooru x black reader #sakusa kiyoomi x black reader #haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu headcanons #hq!! headcanons #hq headcanons #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq!!#hq

199 notes · View notes

lsholland · 3 years

Text

𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄 (𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈 - "𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠?"

Word count: 3.7k

tw: addictions (alcohol, drugs), swearing, disease, murder...

genre: psychological thriller / suspense / drama

Synopsis: Tom Holland is Hollywood's #1 celebrity and is adored all around the world. But this rise to fame hasn't been easy for him. With fame comes his own demons: addiction issues, a relationship that's about to end and...he doesn't know it yet, but he's about to kill an innocent woman. How is he going to get through it?

You can also read it on Wattpad.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated :)

"Tom! Tom!!! TOM!!!" shouts a woman in a black hoodie among a hysterical crowd of young boys and girls trying to get this man's attention. "PLEASE!!! I love you so much" her voice crackles, she's sobbing in despair.

He stops walking and stands right in front of her, a sharpie pen between his fingers and an unnatural grin on his face. Even though these people claim they love him, he's tired of them. It's something with the drama, the screams, and the perpetual inconsideration that drains his energy. His straight face says it all, if only they weren't obsessed with his looks, he'd be pleased to spend time with them. But he knows he's just an object of their fantasies. He forces a smile, or something close to it, and accepts to take a picture with her. He stands next to her, his arms in his back, his fingers intertwined and shakily holding the pen, glancing at the camera lens, lost in his thoughts. His body is present in the moment, but his mind is thousands of kilometres away in the universe that is his brain.

And she's so happy to finally have that precious picture that her smile shows all her impeccable teeth; she's sweating and rapidly breathing and laughing with the same high-pitched voice as everyone else; she's just a typical fangirl. All her friends gather around her and whisper as if they were hiding a secret from an alien.

And onto the next one. Same hysteria, same cry for help, miserable for his attention. She hands him a picture of him in a Spider-Man suit and asks for an autograph while she's filming the scene with her brand-new iPhone.

It has to do with the way they treat him. The way they pretend he doesn't notice their weird behaviour. The way they simply believe he's not a human being. That he must be good-looking, happy, nice, and funny all the time.

"We've gotta go" says his assistant as he presses his shoulder with his hand. Tom looks at him with relief and closes his eyes for a second. He lets out a sigh as a soft smile appears on his angelic face.

"A'ight, I'm sorry guys" he apologises, but that's not enough. Many of them start crying and push through the thin barrier to get a hold of him; like monsters that haven't been fed, like addicts when you can't provide their usual dose of drugs. They look so disappointed and hopeless; leaving now would reduce all his efforts to dust. Keeping a good image and reputation is the key. He doesn't want to be hated.

Guilt rushes through him like a thrill; he glances at his watch and gulps. He gives them another 5 minutes for pictures, autographs, and hugs. Even if he's late. Even if he's going to miss his interview. Because he owes his success to them; or at least he thinks he does.

And when he goes into the back seat of this huge black SUV with no registration plate, he slams the door shut and . . . Peace. Finally, the moment he's been waiting for. The pressure leaves his body like a bubble burst. He sighs and relaxes his muscles, his head falling back on the seat. His eyes are closed; he doesn't say a word for the whole ride. His time alone is so rare and valued.

And when they arrive in front of that gigantic building to pass this final interview, Tom prepares to show his usual bright smile and pretends he's happy. Nobody notices what's hidden in his gaze. But his eyes are telling the truth. His eyes show how hopeless he is. But nobody dares looking into his soul. They only see the superficial layer, the mask he puts on every day. Because nobody knows who he is. Nobody cares about him.

It's so much simpler to ignore sadness in other people. We just tend to believe only good moments are worth sharing. We just pretend we're happy all the time because that's what everyone else does. And why would he show his sadness anyway? He has it all: a girlfriend, loads of money, a caring family, success . . . What can he be sad about?

The interview is done, Tom is in the car, cruising in the city. He's finally going home after a long, tiring, and stressful day.

He unlocks his phone and checks his text messages. They're plain and all related to his fame or his work. All his conversations are so self-centred. What are his plans? What does he like? And what's his opinion on this subject? He, he, him, him, again and again!

He's so tired and wants to be entertained. This empty space laying in his heart and brain becomes bigger and bigger. It's become harder to ignore it, especially when he's alone like tonight. Besides, he's too used to entertain others that he almost forgets what it's like to be passive and watch people do things. As if the world revolved around him.

Here we go. Instagram. The most toxic of all social media platforms. He scrolls through pictures of his friends. The famous ones on red carpets or photoshoots; the anonymous ones a drink in their hands. They're all so superficial. All the same. And the algorithm showing him pictures fans have taken of him earlier today . . . Icing on the cake. Why would he watch this? He doesn't need it. But he decides to read what the fans say, because he's curious. Or because he's obsessed with what people think of him. He needs to be known, loved, remembered, at the centre of attention – adored. He wouldn't need to sell his soul to the devil because it's already in him, and he's now paying the price of this sin.

The fans he met earlier, who were so happy to finally see their idol, were bullying him on social media. They aren't even aware of it. All these people objectifying him, posting pictures of his family – invading his privacy – and saying he can't 'write' or 'walk' or do anything properly because he's just human. They say they are joking except it's not funny. Tom's feelings are hurt, again. He should have written 'you're' instead of 'your', he should have noticed there was a hole in the grass and not trip . . . These images are roaming in his brain like a car's spinning wheels when you brake at 60 miles per hour; the pressure of the tyres scratching your mind, and the intrusive thoughts that can't be stopped like the wheel. Ever. And you eventually hit the wall.

He glances at the rear-view mirror and see his driver focused on the traffic lights. He glances around to make sure no paparazzi is watching and takes a flask out of his back pocket. His trembling hands poorly hold it, but he needs to drink something to feel better; to feel energised. He spills his boose on the leather seats and sighs with annoyance. Grabbing his hoodie feels like lifting the weight of the world; he manages to wipe it off and savours the sweet taste of vodka. Just one sip can't hurt.

That's how you know it's too late.

"Do you really need it?" says the assistant in the front passenger seat who caught him.

"It's just a drink" Tom replies instantly, frowning his eyebrows.

"I'm just worried about you, you know" he adds as he turns around and looks at him in his eyes.

"There's nothing to worry about," Tom mumbles as he feels relaxed "I can stop if I want to."

"If you say so . . ."

And even the people surrounding him day and night aren't trying to help him. Everyone's aware he's slowly getting addicted and is wasting his potential, everyone but the fans. Everyone pretends to love him, but nobody truly cares. They're just after his money, power, and fame . . .

It's like watching him tiptoeing on the deck's edge of a ferry and being shocked when he eventually falls off in the unforgiving cold, dark sea.

He smiles when the car stops in front of his London house. That's the only place where he feels like he can truly be himself. Or the last of it. After all, who is he really? Spider-Man? An actor that pleases 13-year-old girls? A failure? An impostor? Or no one at all?

What happened to the young boy who was excited about everything and anything? What happened to the one who used to laugh more than he'd breathe?

He is torn. He can't love anymore. He's had many girlfriends, each one more famous and beautiful than the last, but they couldn't bring him back to life. He truly loved them though. He felt good with them and always thought they were a match until he messed up. Making up a behaviour so they'd leave him because he's not strong enough to quit. Because he is just like this. A kid who can't handle success.

He currently has a girlfriend. Everyone loves her. He thinks she's too good for him though. Too beautiful, too clever, and maybe too famous. He feels like she's achieving much more than he is and that scares him. He can't even make love to her without feeling like he's not worth it. So, he ignores her calls, takes days to reply to a text, becomes cold as stone, distant, and unstable. This is how cowards break up. But she holds on to him.

Once he gets home, he sits on his couch and starts watching TV. His stomach is empty; he hasn't eaten all day but the only thing he wants is to drink more. It's like a voice in his brain that takes control of his body. He sees everything but can't do anything about it. The smell, the thirst, the mind that can't think of anything else. His hands are shaking, breathing becomes uneasy, he's uncomfortable in his own skin; he's a stranger to himself until he drinks. He's desperately waiting for someone to help him. But they're all too busy with their own problems.

He tries to drink from his flask, but it is empty.

He groans. "One more isn't gonna hurt" he whispers to himself as he walks towards the kitchen area. He opens the fridge and grabs a cold one.

And another one.

And another one . . .

The saddest thing about the situation is that he truly believes in his excuses. He doesn't realise he desperately needs help.

Now, the fridge is empty. But he still doesn't feel it. He doesn't feel the uninhibited state he wants to reach. He's still a victim of his thoughts; the sadness, the anger, the feeling of being trapped in a never-ending game.

He glances at his 80,000 dollars Rolex and decides it's time for him to go to a bar. He grabs his phone and calls his assistant. No answer. He calls his second assistant then. No answer.

"It's only 2AM, come on!" he grunts.

Only?

He thinks for barely a second and grabs his keys and gets into his car. There's a night bar in Kingston that he absolutely loves, and he knows he's always welcome there.

As a celebrity he's obviously welcome everywhere. But he noticed the way people looked at him with pity when he spent an entire night drinking without speaking to anyone. Alone in his thoughts that only he knows. It's different there, the barmaid usually talks to him and entertains him. And she just doesn't care he's famous, which is rare nowadays.

He's been caught drunk driving many times, but he was always released without a word because he's so famous. As if all the police officers have daughters who worship him.

Maybe his problem is thinking he's above all. He who used to be so humble, kind, and generous.

He parks in front of the venue, but the lights are off. He rolls down the window and squints to read the paper sticked to the door.

The bar is closed for annual leave.

"Fuck it!" he shouts. He checks on his phone if another bar is open tonight. Miss Jackson is. It's not the bar he usually spends his time in, but the beers are good and it's not too crowded for him. He absolutely wants to avoid fans tonight.

Most of them are underage, it's dangerous for him. One mistake and he'd become a paedophile. That's why he swore to himself to never do anything with a fan, no matter how hot they are. It's harder to respect this rule when he's drunk though.

"Let's go then" he says in a lazy way, the alcohol slowly taking control of him.

His eyes are red, everything he sees is blurred. He can't keep his thoughts straight.

He starts the car and puts some music to lighten his mood. He needs this to feel better. If something bad happens while he's drunk it ruins his mood. And when this happens . . . he starts having very dark thoughts. The kind of thoughts you better keep to yourself if you don't want people to be scared for you. Where your life is on the line, and you don't care about tomorrow because you just want to stop it . . . The sadness; the anxiety; the constant fears. Because the only moment you feel happy is when you sleep, as if you were dead. Tom feels like this all the time, and he hides it well.

But now he's focusing on the moment. The boose allows him to feel better. He listens to this pop song and its energy is spreading in his body. He's pushed by the music; the excitement and adrenaline take control over his body. He's ready to go.

He quickly backs up the car. He's so excited to go to the bar to finally drink some more and—

BOOM! His car abruptly stops, it sounds like a crash. An alarm is wailing, echoing in Tom's ears, making him feel dizzy. The shock was so intense he hit his face against the airbag of his steering wheel leaving his skin half-burnt. He passes out.

Tom startles as he wakes up, "what the fuck just happened?" he hisses. He stays still giving time to his brain to proceed the information and checks his rear-view camera. It's been disconnected.

He jumps out of his car and checks what happened. He collided with another vehicle. A much smaller car with a crushed bumper. Tom's car is damaged as well, but he doesn't care, he walks over the small Fiat 500 and scans the surroundings. His heart is pounding; air isn't traveling down to his lungs. He suffocates as if he were trapped in a cage down the ocean. He doesn't control his shaking fingers rubbing against his sweating forehead. His lips are parting, gasping for air, while his eyes are wide open looking straight to the ground.

For a second, he realises that he can be in big trouble if anyone knows about this. This can be enough to be fired by the Marvel Studios and ruin his entire career, his life. No one wants a drunk superstar to ruin a movie's reputation.

He hesitates. He wants to run away. He faintly grabs his head in his weak hands and is heavily panting. He can taste iron on the tip of his tongue. He rubs his forearm against his mouth and feels wobbly at the sight of his own blood.

What is he going to do? Has someone seen what happened? And if he leaves, what happens to the unconscious person in the car? But if he helps them, what guarantees him he's not going to be prosecuted? And lose it all? But what if he leaves and this person dies? What if they die and someone knows he killed them? Each scenario is getting worse and worse.

There's only one viable option for him.

"Hey, are you alright?" he says as he approaches the fuming car.

He glances around, but the street is empty. That's the reason why he usually loves this place; because it's so quiet.

"Are—Are you okay there?" he stutters.

He opens the door and see blood. Dark, thick, red blood. An unconscious woman with blood all over her face is lying on the steering wheel. Her car is so old there is no airbag. The shock must've been tough for her. She might even have a brain injury.

Tom places his hand on this woman's neck to check if her heart is still beating. It's weak. She needs help or she'll die because of his stupidity, because he's a drunk who can't even check his surroundings before backing up his car. Poor woman whose life is on pause for his mistake. She'll die because of him.

He dials 999 on his cell phone and repeats what he's going to say once someone picks up the phone.

"There's a woman—she's injured! Car accident!" he cries. He doesn't even try to make sentences; he just wants this to be over. "Please come quickly"

"What's your name, sir?"

His body is wavering, tears are streaming down his face – it's absolute chaos in his mind. He can't tell his name; he'd rather die than publicly suffer from the consequences of his actions. He needs to fly away; he needs to escape from this nightmare. He needs to leave, and now.

He hangs up in a hurry. No one can know he is drunk, and he almost killed someone. He walks back to his SUV and catches one last glimpse of this woman's body before closing the door and driving away.

As soon as he leaves, he regrets his decision, but sticks to it anyway. His soul is crying for him to go back there and help this dying life, but his cowardice tells him to hide and wait until this is over. He's reaching his lowest point, and the only person he wants to see now is his mum. When she holds him in her arms, the weight of his problems is bearable; he can even feel relaxed. And he wishes she'd be able to do it tonight. But it would kill her to know what monstrosity her son just did . . .

He's home, all alone. It's been a few hours since the incident happened, and Tom can't think of anything else. This woman's face, her blood all over the windshield, her crushed car.

Why didn't she see him? Why was she driving so fast in an empty street at night? So many questions roam in Tom's brain, it's slowly eating him alive.

He's sobering up as the morning lights glow on his face. It's already 6AM and he hasn't slept at all. He watches himself in his bathroom mirror and only see dark circles, pale skin, and the features of a monster. The broken blood vessels in the white of his eyes give him an evil aspect. He raises his arm and see the pink burnt skin, another scar for life. How on earth could he leave a dying woman?

He doesn't only feel remorse; he doesn't recognise himself. He's lost and wonders what happened in his life to be so miserable he considers his career more important than someone else's life.

He firmly rubs his face with the palms of his hands and takes off his clothes in a simple sweep. He crawls onto his bed and covers his body with a weighted blanket. He's almost trying to forget he exists when he squeezes his eyes shut and stops breathing until his lungs pressure him to open his mouth. Nature has done a wonderful job preventing us from suffocating on purpose. What a bummer for Tom; he would be dead already if he could just stop breathing . . .

He takes his phone, his only friend and his worst enemy, and checks the local news. Maybe they've mentioned the accident and he'll be able to know what happened to his woman. Not many articles have been published since last night. He keeps scrolling until he finds what he's been looking for.

25-year-old in coma after accident in Southeast London, fugitive remains unfound

Tom's heart skips a beat; this article must be about her. For a second, he apprehends and hesitates to read the article. But his guilty mind needs to know everything about what happened since he deserted.

As he reads the article, he gently places his hand over his mouth to stop him from crying out loud. The woman was so heavily injured they needed to put her under artificial coma to keep her alive. She was on her way to meet her dying husband, in the same hospital she's at now.

Such an emotional shock inflicts a profound pain to Tom's heart. He sobs in silence and passes out due to sleep deprivation. He's finally at peace; no thought, no nightmare. His mind is off, and his body is fully regenerating. His brain is solely focused on keeping his body alive. His soul is resting for a few hours until his cell phone starts ringing.

Tom wakes up with a start and answers his phone without checking who's on the line.

"Tom, what are you doing? I've been knocking at your door for the past 10 minutes," shouts his brother "what happened to your car? Dude what are you doing? You've gotta get ready for GQ!"

"Wh—What?" he mumbles.

His brother knocks at the door. Tom gets off his bed and walks down the stairs with difficulty. When he opens the door, the lights blind him, it's too sunny outside. He'd rather stay inside for a few more hours.

His brother checks him out and sighs. "Have you been drinking? The photoshoot is in less than an hour and you look like shit"

Tom remains silent, trying to process the information.

"And what happened to your car, man?"

And here it is. Every memory comes back in his mind like fireworks and his feet are failing, he can barely stand still. He grabs his brother by his shoulder and holds him tight in his arms. He's the only one who can really help him feel better. He wants to tell him everything that happened, but he can't admit he's got a problem.

He's lost.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading! What do you think so far of the story? Tom is in a very bad situation, I wonder how he's going to get through it?

Please like this post to be in the taglist.

#tom holland #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland fiction #tom holland imagines

43 notes · View notes

michelemoutons · 3 years

Text

and at last, the post that maybe three people maximum have been waiting for...

em's comfort retro rally videos: a masterlist!

in a much-needed return to this blog's roots, and as an antidote to all motorsport- and life-related chaos, i now present to you: the first edition of em's favorite retro rally videos!

general disclaimer/info: these videos mainly come from the group B era of the world rally championship (wrc), which generally speaking was in the '80s. i am only human, so expect a lot of bias toward my personal favorites...which will become very apparent as you read this list hehe. also i'm not even gonna pretend to be an expert on this or anything. a lot of these are literally just based on Vibes

table of contents

i. my top 5 rally coverage videos

mainly coverage for television, recorded on VHS and uploaded to YouTube by some truly incredible people

ii. honorable mentions

not rally coverage, but retro rally videos nevertheless

often documentaries, mini-doc features, interviews

for all videos, i have indicated the language (most are in english fyi); if any links fail or videos disappear, send me an ask or DM and i'll remove the culprit/find an alternative link.

and now, onward!

(TW for occasional flash photography in many of the night sequences of the videos, as well as a gif included in this post)

i. my top 5 rally coverage videos

in which my bias toward audi sport, mouton/pons, mikkola, toivonen, and vatanen are put on blast for all to see 🥴 i am not an expert in anything i am just very good at research and a whore for aud—[SNIPED]. for the sake of brevity, i narrowed my favorites down to 5. maybe another time i will share all the rest!

also, a general note about the commentary: sometimes, the commentary around michèle and fabrizia can get... weird. keep in mind, they were the most prominent female team partnership around that time, and the first to nearly clinch a wrc wdc, and to modern ears, the commentators really didn't know how to act around them. personally, it wasn't horrible for me, i just ignored the weirder bits, but i understand if others might find it off-putting. also for the sake of your sanity don't read the comments.

5. Rally of the 1000 Lakes, 1984 | finland

link: overall coverage (eng)

podium: vatanen/alén/toivonen (full final results)

comments: this was definitely a rally for most of audi sport's drivers to forget: bar stig blomqvist, who came quite close to the podium finishers with a 4:14:01 to henri toivonen's 4:12:57! both hannu mikkola and michèle mouton had to retire from the race, which may lead you to wonder: why does this rank among my favorites? well, it's always fun to watch group b rally cars sailing through the air against picturesque scenery, and this video also contains an intriguing (at least for me!) look at the scrutineering process, with drivers at their most casual.

owie :( they were fine though!

4. Lombard RAC Rally, 1981 | britain

link: overall coverage (eng)

podium: mikkola/vatanen/blomqvist (full final results)

comments: hannu winning by 11 whole minutes even after rolling his car in the middle of the forest is actual legend behavior! anyway this was michèle's first wrc outing in britain, and even though she and fabrizia had to retire, they still did quite well, consistently running high in the leaderboards after the first few stages. and that's considering the fact that michèle had a bad cold for much of the rally and had to ask fabrizia to drive the car to service park for her at one point bc she was so tired. which fabrizia did... with a pencil in her mouth. lot of big names in one video—also, jean todt makes an appearance as a co-driver!

shamelessly poached off of one of my text post edits

3. Marlboro Safari Rally, 1983 | kenya

link: overall coverage (eng)

podium: vatanen/mikkola/mouton (full final results)

comments: ok can i just say how stunning the video presentation is?? the opening sequence is just!!! the shots of the wildlife! the sprinting giraffes! wow! anyway the visual of drivers in deck chairs just tickles me for no reason, and michèle please tell me what you ask for at the hairdresser's and also where you got that orange blouse (this is obviously not just specific to this rally, she always eats and leaves no crumbs). this was michèle's first entry and only finish in kenya (and of course it was a podium mwah). it was also her last wrc entry in the A1 quattro, as she switched to the A2 for the rest of her program in the '83 season. also this is one of my favorite podium pictures ever.

lksdjffnnkd there's almost too much to unpack... fabrizia somehow surviving in high waist jeans in a hot car... michèle's do-it-yourself shorts... this podium picture was the subject of a very frantic video chat conversation between myself and a friend at 2am a few months ago

2. Rallye de Portugal, 1982 | portugal

links: short recap (eng) | overall coverage 1, stuck in the middle of two other rallies. timestamps in descrip. (eng) | overall coverage 2, very vibey with cool music (ita... also peep walter röhrl speaking italian)

podium: mouton/eklund/wittmann (full final results)

comments: GOD I LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH AAAA! michèle's first podium of '82 being a win? this rally being the one where there's footage of her going shopping with fabrizia afterward? (more on that later) them winning by 13 whole minutes? and that's not even considering THEE most poetic victory ceremony of all time! in fact let me talk about that bc the racing and the win aside, that's why it's so high up on my list! literally poetic cinema! it's night, they're standing on top of the car and floodlit and surrounded by cheering crowds but they may as well be the only ones there in their own little world, laughing at each other and barely even having to look to each other when they're raising their hands—like god! shut up! we get it you're besties 😭

i_just_think_theyre_neat.png

and now... last but certainly never least...

1. Lombard RAC Rally, 1982 | britain

link: overall coverage (eng)

podium: mikkola/mouton/toivonen (full final results)

comments: firstly, if you were to ask me about my dream podium, this would be it. hands down, across all series of motorsport, my comfort podium would be hannu, michèle, and henri in any order. (there's such a cute picture of them from this rally on pinterest, standing in order on a staircase. henri is not looking at the camera because he is laughing at something michèle is saying and it's such a Vibe but i cannot find it wah). the battle for second between michèle and henri ran down to literally the last stage, and their times are separated by seconds, which is just wild to me. the context of this rally deserves another post, which i honestly don’t have the energy to make rn, but just take my word for it that it threatens to destroy me if i think about it too hard! anyway this is just such an awesome rally and i’ve watched this video so many times haha

i love this rally so much that i actually had a character in a story i was writing attend the ceremony captured in this picture as a small child and made it a formative moment in her life. no, there is nothing wrong with me.

ii. honorable mentions

(is it obvious who my faves are? yikes)

'Group B - Avec Michele Mouton' (eng) - taken from a longer feature presentation about group b, a segment specifically about michèle. a friend once described its vibes as ‘a synth wave edit of an 80s anime set in a cyberpunk world about racing’

'1983 Audi Sport National Rally with Michele Mouton' (eng) - in which michèle takes journalist sue baker as a co-driver for a spin in an A1 and a rally win. fun behind-the-scenes video

'Intervista a Fabrizia Pons, la Regina delle Note' 1, 2, 3 (ita) - very thorough interview which is mostly fabrizia telling all sorts of stories, including the very entertaining story of how she found out she was going to be michèle’s co-driver. also what a badass title

'2008 Otago International Classic Rally' (eng) - THE BESTIES REUNITE THE BESTIES REUNITE!!! michèle and fabrizia reunite for a rally that fabrizia convinced michèle to join, they suffer some problems but there are plenty of wholesome bestie moments to be had

'Michele Mouton hurls Group B Audi Quattro up Goodwood hill' (eng) - i mean, self explanatory. the sound of the chirping tires? asmr could never. very short watch if you want a quick pick-me-up

'1990 Louise Aitken-Walker feature' (eng) - a video featuring a female rally driver from scotland and her point-scoring run at the rallye monte -carlo. i am convinced that louise was john finnemore’s inspiration or at least an influence for the character of linda fairbairn. no my hat is not made of tin foil what are you talking about

hannu rocketing around michigan back in 2017 (eng)

hannu flying around goodwood in 2015 (eng)

sometimes i listen to fabrizia's recent onboards (yes, she's still at it!) and this one is one of my favorites, from 2016 (ita)

39 notes · View notes

ming-yu-hao · 4 years

Text

Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder | Chapter 3

Pairing: fratboy!mingyu x female reader

Word Count: 6k

Synopsis: When you transferred to a different university, you and Wonwoo promised that you would make long distance work. But distance proves to be more difficult than you both originally thought.

This Chapter’s Tags: angst, protected sex, finger sucking, grinding, light choking/spanking/dirty talk, mingyu just being an ass man, riding, cheating obviously

Warning: THIS SERIES IS ABOUT CHEATING. DO NOT READ IF IT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE!

A/N: Y’ALLLLL I’m sorry this took me forever to upload... I just got super busy but there won’t be as long as a wait for the next chapter! As always feedback is appreciated and I hope you guys like this :)

Chapters: Previous | Next | Masterlist

Your knees quivered beneath you as you pulled the soft fabric of your leggings up your thighs and over your hips. You bent down to pick up your shirt that was still balled up on the floor, and when you stood again you could hear the bed rustle behind you as Mingyu shifted his weight.

Guilt didn't hit you until you slipped your shirt back over your head, fully dressing yourself once again.

What had you done?

Without looking at him, you spoke: "I think I should go now."

He was silent.

You stepped over to the door, your hand about to twist the knob when he finally called out to you.

"Y/N."

You looked at him. He was sitting up on his bed; his dark hair was a mess, hanging over his forehead. His lips were parted like he didn't know what to say.

"Um, don't forget your jacket. It's cold outside." He pointed to your jacket that was still discarded on the floor.

"Oh, thanks," you said with your voice wavering. You quickly picked up the jacket and headed for the door again.

"Text me when you get home, okay?" Mingyu rushed to say. The corners of his mouth quirked up into a thin, awkward smile and you nodded your head in response.

Why did he suddenly care? He used to just be some guy you sat next to in class. When did he want to become your friend? When did he start to become protective over you? Was this all really just because of his half-drunken encounter with you at that party? Did the moment you two shared that night cause him to feel some kind of attachment to you? Thinking about it all made your head spin. Nothing made sense to you anymore.

You turned the knob and cracked open the door when Mingyu spoke again.

"Um, also... you know, if you ever need anything... I'm here for you." His voice shook a bit.

You exhaled. "Thank you."

You slipped out of his room before he could say anything else and stepped down the stairs quietly, attempting to dart out the front door before anyone could see you. There was a small group of people hanging out in the living room like Mingyu had said, their laughter and conversations loud and echoing through the house.

When you reached the bottom of the stairs, you kept your gaze down at your feet while you scanned the floor for your shoes.

"Y/N?" You heard a voice call from behind you.

You huffed out a quiet breath in frustration before turning around with an overly sweet smile on your face. Your eyes landed on Seungcheol.

"Oh, hey! It's weird not seeing Jisoo following you around." You joked.

Seungcheol smiled sheepishly. "Yeah..." He trailed off, looking down at the ground.

"Are you guys dating?" You probed with a raised eyebrow.

"I wanted to talk to you about that, actually." He admitted, making eye contact with you. Curiosity plagued you, and you stared at him expectantly as you waited for him to speak. "I wanna do something special for her when I ask her out... just cause, I don't know, I really like her." He stammered nervously, lowering his voice so no one could eavesdrop.

You gave him a genuine smile. You were happy that Jisoo had found someone that truly liked her. Ever since the beginning of the semester, she had been cycling through an array of terrible guys that used and ghosted her. Seungcheol seemed like a genuinely good person; you trusted him to take care of her.

You brought your hand to your chin as you pondered for a moment. "Well, if I'm being honest, she's, like, a huge hopeless romantic. Loves cheesy romance movies and stuff." You started, "If you took her out to a nice dinner and walked around some really pretty, romantic place after, that'd be her dream come true."

Seungcheol nodded, his eyes glazed over in deep thought as he acknowledged your advice. "Yeah, that sounds like her." He smiled. "Thanks."

You nodded. "So... how did the raffle go?"

"It went really good, actually." He responded, shoving his hands in his pockets. "The money's going to a child psychology organization. I've been doing research with them for a few months now."

Your eyes lit up in interest at his story. "That's really cool. Have you discovered any groundbreaking research yet?" You half-joked.

He chuckled, "I guess a little bit."

A lightbulb suddenly went off in your brain. "Hey, do you think I could interview you about all this research stuff you've done? I need to write an article for class."

Seungcheol shrugged. "Sure."

You spent the next few minutes probing him about how he got involved in the program, what he had been researching, his motivation to study child psychology—all while taking down notes on your phone. He explained to you how he had struggled with anxiety his whole life and wanted to find a way to help others. In the back of your mind, this was all affirming why he was such a good match for Jisoo. He was caring, passionate, charitable. Your heart warmed at the thought of Jisoo finally settling down with someone who was actually a good person.

Your interview came to an end and you thanked Seungcheol for helping you out. He nodded before glancing down at the jacket you were carrying in your arms.

"Were you planning on leaving?" He asked.

"Yeah, I need to go work on homework and stuff." You answered.

He attempted to suppress his smirk by biting his lip. "You and Mingyu didn't get much work done together?" He raised his eyebrows at you.

You felt your heart drop into your stomach. "What?"

"Relax, I'm just kidding." Seungcheol laughed. "He just seemed comfortable with you earlier, you know?"

The tension in your stomach loosened a little as you realized that he didn't actually know what happened between you two. This is exactly what Mingyu was worried about earlier. So it was true that Seungcheol liked to play matchmaker and get involved in everyone else's relationships.

"There's nothing going on between you guys?" Seungcheol questioned after you didn't respond.

You felt your cheeks grow hot with irritation. "No. I have a boyfriend." You said curtly.

Seungcheol's mouth formed an O-shape at the sudden coldness in your tone. "I-I'm sorry, I was just kidding." He quickly apologized.

"It's okay." You sighed. You glanced around for your shoes, avoiding his regretful gaze.

"Well, I really have to get going. Thanks for helping me out." You said as you slipped on your shoes.

He smiled apologetically and walked you over to the door. "See you, Y/N!" He called behind you as you stepped out into the cold.

You buried yourself in work for the next two days. You figured it was easier to just get lost in the flow of doing assignment after assignment rather than to think about what happened.

But no matter what you did, your mind still wandered back to that moment—when your lips finally met Mingyu's, and his body pressed against yours.

The worst part was that you didn't even try to stop him: you had agreed to it, and God, you even thanked him for it! You weren't even sure if you could regret what happened. You hated yourself for betraying Wonwoo's trust, but at the same time you craved attention and affection. Mingyu just happened to be the one that fulfilled your wishes after all this time.

You would never tell Mingyu that, of course. Honestly, you were unsure if you could even face him about it. He could tell that you felt guilty afterwards. If you just finished this stupid project and avoided him for the rest of the semester, he would probably get the hint and leave you alone.

It was Saturday evening when you typed the last words of your article on Seungcheol and his research. You hadn't talked to Mingyu since you left his room on Thursday night, but you needed him to complete his share of the work. Sighing, you picked up your phone and pulled up your messages with him. You quickly explained what kind of pictures he needed to take and told him to send them to you (so you could avoid seeing him anymore than you needed to).

You clicked out of your conversation, and that's when your eyes landed on the messages that were still unread by Wonwoo. You wanted to ask him what he was doing, but after three days with no response, it felt pathetic to even attempt to strike up a conversation now.

The sound of the door knob jiggling startled you before Jisoo busted into the room a moment later.

"Y/N!" She cheered in a sing-song voice. "We have another party to go to tonight!"

You already knew exactly where this party was going to be, and you felt your stomach drop at the thought of running into Mingyu.

You shook your head. "No way, Jisoo. I'm way too busy." You lied.

She pouted her lips at you. "Really? You've been working nonstop. How're you still not done?"

You shrugged and let out an exaggerated sigh.

"Well, you can take a break for a few hours. I promise I won't leave you this time. You can hangout with me and Cheol." She begged, looking at you with wide, saddened eyes.

Your phone vibrated between your hands, and when you glanced down you saw Mingyu's name on the screen.

Mingyu: I'm actually gonna be out studying and working on some stuff with a friend tonight. I promise I'll get the pics for you tomorrow :) Sent at 7:37 PM

You thought it was a little weird for a guy like Mingyu to be studying on a Saturday night, but when you realized that he wouldn't be at the party, relief flooded over you.

You looked up at Jisoo and saw her still expectantly staring at you, waiting for your response.

"I- I guess I could go for a bit."

"YES!" Seungkwan shrieked as he successfully landed another ball in one of Jisoo's cups. He turned to you and wildly smacked your palm in a high five, nearly hitting you in the face. Your stomach was starting to hurt from laughing for the past ten minutes over the intense match of beer pong in front of you.

The crowd around the table reacted loudly, some cheering and some booing as Jisoo downed another cup of alcohol. She shivered at the taste and Seungcheol came up from behind to pat her on the back. His lips moved as he said something to her, but with music blasting through the house so loud, you couldn't make out a single word.

Your phone vibrated in your back pocket. Without much thought, you pulled it out and quickly glanced at the screen.

Your heart sank into your stomach as you realized: Wonwoo was calling.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath. You had completely forgotten that Saturday's were now reserved for your FaceTime dates.

You looked up at everyone with wide eyes, but they were too immersed in the game to notice your reaction. You pushed your way through the crowd and slipped into the bathroom before Jisoo or anyone else could come looking for you.

By the time you reached the bathroom and locked the door, the FaceTime call had already stopped ringing. Leaning against the door, you scrolled through your contacts and called back, but only as a phone call.

Wonwoo answered after two rings.

"Hey, everything alright?" He asked.

You swallowed. "Uh... yeah."

"Why didn't you FaceTime?" He continued. You hesitated, but then he spoke before you could say anything. "Why is it so loud? Where are you?"

You cursed yourself for not running away to a room that was farther away from all the music and noise outside the door. Fidgeting with your fingers, you answered: "A party."

"Oookay," he scoffed. "You could've at least let me know if you were gonna go out. But it's fine. Have fun, I guess." He responded coldly.

Your brows furrowed together instinctively. Now it was your turn to scoff at him. "You're not serious, are you?" The skin of your face grew warmer. Wonwoo was quiet. "I forgot. Sorry." You admitted through grit teeth.

"Why're you so mad?" He questioned in a defensive tone.

You rolled your eyes. "This is the first time I've ever cancelled on you and it was an accident. Do I need to remind you of all the times you ditched me?"

Wonwoo didn't respond.

"And what the fuck have you been doing the past three days that you couldn't respond to me?" You spat. Blood was rushing through your veins quickly now as anger took over.

He sighed through the receiver. "I was busy."

"Does it really take that much time to send a text to your fucking girlfriend?" Your voice began to rise. "How do you expect this to work if you don't even talk to me?"

"I'm sor-" He began to speak, but you interrupted him.

"You know, sometimes it feels like I'm dating nobody!" You cried. "Do you even realize how lonely I feel?" Your voice shook with each word as your throat grew tighter; tears welled up in your eyes. You didn't want to cry, but all the frustration you had bottled up the past couple months was finally spilling over.

In a calm voice, all Wonwoo said was: "I'm trying."

"Not hard enough." You scoffed.

"What the fuck, Y/N? Where is this coming from?" He cried. The sudden rise in his voice startled you a bit.

The phone shook in your grasp. "You act like I don't even exist! How can you call that trying?"

"Fuck, I'm not dealing with this right now. Go back to your stupid fucking party." He snapped.

"Yeah, just go and ignore me again!" You laughed sardonically.

The three tones of the call ending sounded abruptly. You looked down at your phone in shock. He had hung up on you.

Your hands balled into fists as you threw your head back against the door. Your jaw was tense, but your bottom lip still quivered.

He had done it again. It seemed it was becoming easy for him at this point—abandoning you when you needed him.

This wasn't going to last much longer if the two of you couldn't figure this out.

When you pressed your lips into a thin line, tears slipped down, staining the bags under your eyes with makeup.

Was he giving up on you?

Your head began to pound. You couldn't stand being in this hot bathroom any longer, much less this party in general. You wiped your cheeks with the back of your hand and turned to unlock the door.

As you took a step out of the bathroom, you kept your gaze locked on your feet; you didn't want anyone to notice the state you were currently in.

Not even a moment after opening the door, you collided with a tall, warm body.

"Sorry," you mumbled, pushing past.

"Y/N?" A familiar voice called. Strong hands grasped your forearm, and you glanced up at the figure.

Mingyu.

What force was bringing you back to him once again?

His lips parted in a small gasp as he noticed the redness in your tearful eyes. "Hey, what's wrong? Come here."

Before you could protest, he guided you back into the bathroom, closing and locking the door so no one could bother you two.

You kept your eyes down at the ground, unable to look at him. As he approached you, the heat of his skin radiated against you.

"I thought you were out studying." You spoke, breaking the silence.

Mingyu's hands found your jaw. He ran the smooth skin of his thumbs over your cheeks, wiping the tears that remained. "I finished early," he explained.

"Look at me," Mingyu whispered. You swallowed and blinked before meeting his eyes.

You didn't notice the thin, black-rimmed glasses that were resting on his nose before. His dark hair was pushed back, and his tan skin glowed under the bathroom light. You hated how instinctively drawn you felt to his presence.

You started to think that Kim Mingyu might be the Devil, disguised in the form of a beautiful boy that always knew the right words to say. He was here to tempt you, to swindle you at your most vulnerable moments, to test your fidelity. And you were weak enough to cave in.

"Is it your boyfriend?" He asked.

The gaze he held on you was so intense that you found yourself staring at the frames of his glasses instead of his eyes. You nodded silently in response to his question.

"Talk to me. What happened?" Mingyu cooed as he stroked your cheeks with his thumbs.

"I-" You started, but let out a sigh instead. "We just fought. I don't know. I don't wanna talk about it." You rambled.

"Okay," he nodded. "Sorry if I pushed it." He removed his hands from your face. The skin suddenly felt cold without his touch.

He sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. "We can talk about something else."

You stood still, nodding, but couldn't think of anything to say.

"You know," Mingyu started, "You look really pretty. Even when you're crying." Your skin flushed at the compliment.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you wiped the last remnants of makeup off your cheeks. "Is that your go-to line for every girl?" You joked.

"No," he replied. "Just cause I'm in a frat doesn't mean I'm a douche."

You snickered under your breath. "Yeah, but there's gotta be so many girls that hit on you."

"There's some," he shrugged. "Doesn't mean I flirt back."

Your legs were beginning to grow tired from standing, so you walked over to the counter and sat on the edge. You gripped the ledge to keep your balance, swinging your legs back and forth.

Mingyu stood in his same spot, but turned in your direction. He quirked his eyebrows at you. "Are you suggesting that I'm attractive enough to have hundreds of girls swooning over me?" He shot you a teasing grin.

You chuckled and shook your head. "You wish."

Mingyu's jaw dropped in a fake expression of shock as he came closer to you, but he stood to the side to stare at himself in the mirror. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Since when do you wear glasses?" You inquired.

"Since forever." He replied.

Mingyu placed his hands on the edge of the counter, pushing his weight onto them. The muscles in his arms were prominent through his black shirt. Your eyes dragged across his figure, eventually landing on his face again.

"I like them. They look good." You said.

He glanced at you, his eyes laced with hints of suspicion. "Thanks," he said with his voice a little uneven. He cleared his throat and stood up straight. "Did I help get your mind off him a bit?"

You winced at the mention of Wonwoo, but nodded. "Yeah, you did. Thank you." You exhaled.

Mingyu smiled to himself and his eyes met yours once again. "Good. I feel like it's the least I can do to help."

As you stared at him, you admired his features—his soft, clear complexion and plump lips. You suddenly became aware of how close he was to you; his hand was resting only a few inches away from your thigh. Your mind thought back to how it felt when those hands caressed the bare skin of your body. Impulsively, your thighs pressed together at the revisitation of the memory.

The room felt like it had instantly shot up ten degrees, and the heat left your judgement clouded like a foggy mirror. If Mingyu really was the Devil, his plan was working.

You leaned towards him until your face was only a few inches from his. Your breath caught in your throat as you went to speak.

"I really wanna kiss you right now." You admitted quickly, your eyes focused on his lips.

Mingyu backed away. "Are you drunk?" He asked. His eyes were wide with concern as he scanned you.

You remained where you were, embarrassment creeping up on you as you rapidly shook your head. "I haven't drank anything."

Mingyu chewed on his bottom lip. "I- I don't think it's a good idea. After last time..." he trailed off, glancing up to peek at your reaction. "I don't want you to do something you'll regret again."

"I don't regret it." You blurted before you could stop yourself.

You weren't sure what you were doing or where you wanted to go with this, but you couldn't stop. A feeling of lust had possessed you at this point, controlling your every word and action.

Mingyu looked taken aback at your confession, standing up straighter. His lips were parted in uncertainty, but you watched as his eyes flicked down to look at your lips.

"You don't?" He asked, inching closer to you.

Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest now. You quickly shook your head. "No."

His right hand found a place to rest under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him as his face neared yours. He swiped his thumb over your bottom lip.

"Are you sure?" He whispered.

Desire had overcome you so strongly at this point that you couldn't bring yourself to answer him through words. Instead, you crashed your lips onto his.

Mingyu responded eagerly, his kisses fueled with the same amount of force. Your hands quickly found purchase on the nape of his neck, pulling his body closer to yours. Right as you spread your legs to allow him to stand in between them, Mingyu's tongue darted against your lips, slipping into your mouth when you parted your lips for him.

He placed his left hand on your inner thigh, roughly squeezing the flesh between his fingers as he deepened the kiss. You moaned into his mouth, and he dragged his other hand down to the small of your back to pull you closer to him.

Now your core was pressed against his. Mingyu removed his lips from yours, only to place open-mouthed kisses on the area below your ear. You jerked your hips up as he nibbled lightly on the skin, the friction between your thighs growing.

Your jaw hung open as your arousal increased with each moment; your breathing became heavy while you panted into his ear. He sucked on your collarbone, and a chill shot it's way up your spine. You whimpered loudly and you could feel Mingyu smirk against your skin.

"You sound so pretty," he mumbled, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. He lifted his head, his tongue poking out of his cheek while he observed you. Your head was thrown back, eyes half shut, and you were ever so slightly grinding your hips against his for the smallest bit of relief.

Mingyu brought his fingers up to your lips, tapping on the soft skin to catch your attention. "Suck," he said, watching as you obediently parted your lips for him. He shoved two of his fingers into your mouth and pressed them down against your tongue. You could feel wetness building up between your legs. Even though it wasn't anything extreme, Wonwoo never did stuff like this with you in bed. You had to admit, all the new things that Mingyu was introducing to you excited you.

You hummed against him as he stuffed your mouth, almost gagging when his fingers neared the back of your throat. You swirled your tongue around his digits before he quickly pulled them away. You opened your eyes, staring at him in confusion, but his hungry gaze was already locked in on your core. He fumbled with the button of your jeans, and you felt your arousal suddenly spike at the thought of his fingers inside you.

You helped him shuffle your jeans over your ass and down to your knees. He bit his lip as he stared at your clothed heat, his cock stiffening beneath his own jeans, and pressed his dampened fingers to your clit through the fabric of your underwear.

You gasped quietly at the contact, but it wasn't enough. "Mmh, Mingyu," you whined. "Please."

"So needy," he teased with a smirk on his lips. He slipped his fingers beneath the fabric, pressing into your slick folds. His breathing grew heavier. "How're you so wet? I barely even touched you." He breathed against your cheek before he pressed a soft kiss to it. You blushed at his teasing words.

Mingyu rubbed your clit in slow circles, spreading your arousal around your folds. He pressed his lips to yours again, swallowing the moans you were letting out. He dragged his fingers down your heat, teasing your entrance by avoiding it. You clenched around nothing.

"Mingyu, I need you," you muttered against his lips.

"My fingers?" He questioned teasingly, pushing the tips of his digits into your core.

Desire was eating away at you, clouding your thoughts and replacing them with lust-filled ones. You bucked your hips up into his hand, whimpering beneath him.

"No, I want... you." You panted, looking up at him. Embarrassment picked away at you due to your vague request. His eyes appeared even darker than usual as he stared down at you with lust, registering what you were asking for.

Just as he was about to speak, the door knob shook, followed by loud pounding on the door. You jumped, and Mingyu quickly pulled his fingers away from your heat, leaving you with nothing.

"Open up!" A voice called from outside the door. "I have to piss!"

Oh, how wonderful.

You looked to Mingyu with wide eyes, and he motioned for you to stand up. "Pull your pants up!" He shouted at you in a whisper as he wiped his hands on his jeans. He stepped away from the counter, pressing his lips together in frustration as he realized the tent in his pants was painfully obvious.

You pushed yourself off the counter, standing up with shaky legs as you quickly pulled your pants over your hips and re-buttoned them.

The door knob jiggled again. "I'm literally gonna piss myself if you don't open this door in five seconds!" The same voice cried.

"What do we do?" You whispered to Mingyu.

He sighed. "Get out of here as fast as possible and go to my room." Your stomach flipped at the mention of his bedroom; you were really about to go through with this. He reached his hand out for you to grab, and you took hold of it as he led you both to the door.

Mingyu fumbled with the lock, and the door busted open a moment later, revealing a very drunken boy on the other side. He looked both of you up and down. You ducked down slightly, attempting to hide your face behind Mingyu's broad shoulders.

"Fuck, Mingyu? Really? The bathroom?" The boy said with disgust.

Mingyu rolled his eyes, his hand squeezing yours tighter. "Fuck off, Soonyoung." He replied before rushing out of the bathroom with you following close behind.

You couldn't help giggling at Mingyu's comment. He glanced over his shoulder when he noticed you laughing, a smile finding its way to his own lips as he chuckled at you. "Was I too harsh?" He joked.

Mingyu dragged you through the house quickly, and when you reached the bottom of the stairs, he pushed you in front of him to lead the way. You rushed up the steps, and when you neared the top, a sudden smack was delivered to your butt.

You let out a cry, followed by laughter of disbelief. "Mingyu!" You exclaimed with your jaw dropped once you reached the top of the stairs.

Mingyu stood behind you, his hands gripping your waist. He giggled into your ear. "I'm sorry, your ass is so cute." He placed a soft peck to your cheek.

"Let's go," he whispered, his voice suddenly an octave lower. Your stomach twisted, and Mingyu began leading you towards his room with his hands still on your hips.

He let go of you to twist the knob and push the door open, but as soon as you stepped foot into his room, his hands found your waist again and hurriedly pushed you further past the door. He kicked the door closed behind him, pushing you up against the wood. His lips quickly found yours, kissing you with even more intensity than before.

You could barely catch your breath as Mingyu gave you more rough kisses. He was being taken over by lust; he pressed himself against you, allowing you to feel the hardness in his pants. You ran one hand from his shoulder down his chest and stomach, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt tensing at your touch. Finally you palmed him through his jeans and he groaned against your mouth.

"Fuck, you're driving me crazy." He whispered before placing one more messy kiss to your lips. He pulled away to slip his fingers under the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head quickly and tossing it to the floor. His lips found your neck again, and you moaned as his tongue darted out to lick your sensitive spot. His hands were on your ass, pulling you closer to him and squeezing the soft skin.

Your head rolled back. "Shit, Mingyu," you moaned. "I need you now."

Mingyu pulled away to look down at you with a grin on his face. "Yeah?" He raised his eyebrow. He spanked your ass lightly, causing you to whimper and lean into him. "Go to the bed." He demanded, stepping away from you.

You walked to the bed, trying to swing your hips to hide the nervous wobble in your knees. You felt Mingyu come up behind you, his body pressing against yours. His stiff cock was brushing against your thigh. You turned around, sitting on the edge of the bed as you looked up at him.

"When are you gonna take this off?" You questioned while toying with the fabric of his shirt.

He chewed on his lip as he smirked at you. Without a word, he pulled it over his head, exposing his muscular arms and toned chest. Your eyes dragged hungrily over his torso, drinking in the sight of the outline of his abs.

"Better?" He teased, interrupting your admiring of his body. You looked up at his face. His glasses still rested on his nose, but his hair was slightly disheveled and his lips were now pink and swollen from kissing yours. You were breathless. He was beautiful, and you wanted him so badly.

You perked up from the position you were sitting in, a surge of confidence driven by desire guiding you. "Lie down," you commanded. Mingyu looked taken aback for a moment as he processed your sudden dominance, but he just chuckled and laid down without protest.

Once his back was against the mattress and he was splayed out beneath you, you crawled up towards him, straddling his hips. You dragged your hands down his chest, admiring the softness and warmth of his skin while you began to grind against him.

Mingyu threw his head back as he moaned softly, and you felt yourself clench at the sound. You leaned down, pressing your chest to his as you left kisses on his neck. His hips bucked up into your center. The friction between your bodies was so intense it was driving you insane.

You felt his fingers drag across your spine, causing goosebumps to from across your skin. He fumbled with the clasp of your bra and pulled the straps down your arms. You sat up to fully pull it off and throw it somewhere in the room, and Mingyu quickly brought his hands to your breasts. He squeezed the sensitive buds, twisting your nipples between his fingers. You moaned and pressed your hips into his even harder.

"Ride me," Mingyu mumbled into your ear. Unable to form any words, you nodded, reaching for the button of his jeans.

You lifted yourself off him to help him unzip his pants, and once he started pulling them off you kneeled to the side to discard your own jeans. Just as you began pulling your underwear down your thighs, Mingyu reached for the nightstand next to his bed, shuffling around in the drawer and eventually pulling out a condom.

He pulled his cock out of his boxers, and it stood stiffly against his stomach. He quickly ripped open the package, sliding the latex over his shaft. You straddled his thighs again, about to sink yourself onto him when he quickly grabbed your hips.

"No, no." He said. "Turn around."

You looked at him in confusion. "But-"

"Just trust me," he added, pressing a soft kiss to your chest.

You turned around so your back was facing him, still straddling his thighs. He kept one hand on your waist as the other reached for his cock. He guided the stiff head through your folds, wetting his cock with your arousal. When the tip brushed against your clit you whimpered as you clenched around nothing again.

"Please, Mingyu," you whined.

He dragged the head down to your entrance, finally pushing into you. Both of his hands rested on your hips now as he slowly sunk you down onto him.

You moaned at the slight burning sensation the stretch left behind. It had already been months since a dick was last inside you, and with Mingyu's size it was even more intense.

You aided by lowering yourself onto his cock, and once he bottomed out inside you he stayed still to let you adjust. His dick twitched inside you, and you clenched around him in response.

"You're so fucking tight," he moaned into your ear. He began nibbling and sucking at the skin between your neck and shoulder from behind you, and you whined in response.

You lifted yourself off him slowly, basking in the feeling of his cock rubbing against your walls. You sunk down fully onto him before raising your hips again, finally beginning to ride him.

Mingyu allowed you to work yourself against his length while he brought one hand to your breast again. You moaned loudly as he squeezed the flesh between his fingers and bucked his hips up into you.

"Mmmh, shit, you feel so good," you babbled before crying loudly again. Mingyu quickly brought his other hand up to your throat, lightly choking you.

"Shhh, baby." He whispered against your skin. "You can't be so loud." His words were followed by another soft slap to your ass, making you whine quietly.

He let go of your throat, bringing both of his hands to your waist once again to speed up your pace. He angled his hips so he could thrust up into you at the same time, and the angle caused him to hit your sensitive spot every time. You panted loudly as the pressure in your lower stomach grew, and you ground yourself against his cock, clenching around him.

"Shit." Mingyu choked out breathlessly. "Tight little pussy's taking me so well."

Maybe it was the filthy words that left his mouth, or the way Mingyu took hold of your hips to slow your pace and thrust into you especially hard, but you felt yourself tip over the edge, your mind cloudy as pleasure overtook you. You couldn't even tell if you were crying out loudly, but you assumed so by the way Mingyu suddenly pulled himself out of you and pushed you forward until your face was pressed into the mattress and he was kneeled behind you.

He thrusted into you roughly now, trying to reach his own high. Your eyes were rolling back into your head as your core tingled with oversensitivity, and you could feel yourself drooling onto the sheets.

He came with a particularly rough grunt, pausing his movements as his cum emptied into the condom inside you. He moaned breathlessly and he slowly pumped himself in and out of you to milk his orgasm. Finally, he pulled himself completely out, and his hand ran across your spine.

"You okay?" He asked, and you lifted yourself onto your hands and knees, nodding. Mingyu looked down at your legs, his lips dropping in a slight gasp. "Your thighs are shaking." He noted out loud.

Your face burnt with embarrassment as you kneeled back onto your knees. When you finally turned to look at Mingyu, he was tossing the condom into the trash. His hair was now pressed to his forehead with sweat and his cheeks were tinted a shade of pink. When his eyes met yours, his lips quirked up into a smile.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to get rough with you." He apologized. He sheepishly scratched the back of his neck.

You shook your head. "N-no, it's okay," you croaked out, finally able to formulate words now that all the post-orgasm bliss was fading away.

You didn't know why, but you felt like you had to be near him. You crawled up towards him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It felt natural. Comfortable. It reminded you of how you felt with Wonwoo. And despite how much you enjoyed feeling Mingyu's soft lips against yours, that thought terrified you.

"Do you regret this?" He mumbled against your lips.

It scared you—the way you were able to betray Wonwoo so easily. Here you were, in bed with another boy: one that you shared inside jokes with and stole kisses from and ran to for comfort. All that you had built with Wonwoo over the past two years—were some miles apart really enough to tear everything down?

You answered honestly.

"No."

#kim mingyu smut #mingyu smut #mingyu scenarios #mingyu x reader #seventeen smut #mingyu imagines

139 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Level Up, Chapter Eleven (Branjie) - Holtzmanns

“I don’t think I could come up with anything negative about you.”

Brooke’s eyes are sincere as she says it, and Vanessa’s heart starts to beat just a little bit faster. Vanessa’s a person who’s always on the go, not one to slow down if she doesn’t have to but Brooke has the ability to make her world pause for just a second. Brooke changes Vanessa’s focus from what’s in front of her to solely her, and Vanessa almost wishes she could keep it there forever.

It’s never that hard for Vanessa to come up with words to reply with, especially not towards Brooke, but her brain feels like it has shuddered to a stop, pressing on the brakes because the small smile on Brooke’s face is more important to focus on. She could say something stupid, something funny, maybe return the sentiment but she doesn’t get a chance to decide on what to do before Yvie lets out a scoff.

“Except for your dislike of Chicken Little. That’s a negative if I’ve ever seen one.”

AN: Hi, I'm still alive, I promise. Popping back into this lovely fic nearly eight months later (a new job, a new apartment, a new city, and a new cat later too) and I love it just as much as I did in January. Eight months is good for plot to marinate and develop and I'm excited to get back to writing this fic again. If you're still around for this journey, thank you and know I'm so grateful for it. Please do tell me your thoughts if you read! Thank you writ for betaing ily <3

“So you have that interview with Glamour, I’ll set it up for some time this week, and Teen Vogue wants to do something on their Youtube channel. Who knew that was a thing? I’m working on Adidas’ rep to finagle a sponsorship outta them, and Under Armour on the backburner just in case-”

Vanessa bursts through the doors of the gym while Detox continues talking in her ear, not at all apologetic about the way that she has to interrupt her as she ambles towards Brooke’s office. “Just reached the gym. We’ll have to continue this later, ‘cause training waits for no one, right?”

“I see exactly what you’re doing, but I’m not mad at it. Go work on building those boxing skills that’ll keep lining your pockets for years. Toodles!”

Vanessa lets out a snort when Detox hangs up the phone. “Toodles? Who the hell says that?”

“Detox?” Brooke looks up from her book, an amused smile on her face. “I know that trick.”

“What trick?” Vanessa squints her eyes as she sits down, trying to read the cover of Brooke’s paperback. “Are you reading Chicken Soup for the Soul? ”

Brooke waves a hand. “Doesn’t matter. And the trick of dipping out of Detox’s phone calls. Why else would you get to the gym so early?”

“Oh, come on. I’m early sometimes. Occasionally,” Vanessa grins, and Brooke doesn’t buy it in the least from the way she raises an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe not. I like Detox, I really do, don’t get me wrong. She’s hysterical and good at her job, real good at it, but damn.”

“Detox works hard,” Brooke nods, understanding in her eyes. “It’s a lot to handle sometimes.”

“She cranks up the exposure by a million and targets it in specific places and it works, ‘cause I have a lot of followers and deals now but…”

“But what?”

Brooke leans forward, pushing her book to the side as she looks earnestly at Vanessa. It’s striking, sometimes, how Brooke gives her full attention. How much she cares sometimes.

It’s nice.

“It feels real wild, y’know? Like all I did was become a meme, and now my face is going to be in a Spotify commercial. How does that jump happen?” Vanessa shifts in her chair, letting out a sigh. “It’s only been a few weeks.”

It’s as if Vanessa is riding in a car that’s only getting faster and faster, not quite in control of the steering wheel or knowing when she’s going to be able to stop. Sure, the ride is fun, but it also feels like she’s driving without a license, as if she’s skipped the learner’s permit stage and hit the highway instead.

“She wants to capitalize on it as much as possible. Keep you in the spotlight even after the next big meme rolls around,” Brooke shrugs, before pausing for a second, a look of concern in her eyes. “It’s not too much, is it? I can always talk to Detox with you if you feel like it’s overwhelming-”

“Nah, I’ll survive,” Vanessa shrugs, giving her best reassuring smile to Brooke. “Lush sent me some free shit the other day. I like goodie bags.”

Brooke snorts. “Fair enough. Bath bombs are a reason to keep going.”

“Want some? I got enough for a month's worth of spa days.” Vanessa makes a mental note to bring some of the freebies for Brooke on their next practice. She’s earned half of everything, at least.

“You have any of the sakura ones?” Brooke is tentative with her question, and Vanessa nods enthusiastically.

“You’re getting all of ‘em.”

“Now, hold on a second-”

“It’s six. Don’t we have practice to start?” Vanessa’s up and out of the office before Brooke can protest any further. “I’m gonna go change.”

Practice is nice. Practice feels familiar amongst all the new chaos in Vanessa’s life. It lets her turn her brain off and get away from the people that recognize her out in public, the way her Instagram is now solely for sponsored posts. The way she feels like a caricature of herself, almost, because others have an opinion of who she is based on a ten second video clip.

But practice isn’t like that. In the gym, Brooke is the same as ever, pushing and pushing her until sweat is drenching her back and her mind is spinning and she feels more alive than she ever has. When Brooke throws moves at Vanessa that she has to work in overdrive to block and counter with some of her own, it’s familiar. Even though she’s tired and gasping for breath, it’s what she knows how to do, and in an environment that isn’t unsettling or foreign.

The best part about it? Vanessa can still feel herself learning. Growing. Stepping up to the challenges that Brooke throws at her. Sure, she’s not aching to get back into the competition ring anytime soon, but the approving smiles from Brooke when she gets in a good hit or when she avoids a shot that would previously knock her on the ground gives her a thrill every time.

The end of practice leaves Vanessa with a new sense of longing that’s only been present the last few weeks, since this whole meme mess has started. Leaving the gym is hard, because it means Vanessa has to go outside again, pull her hat down when passerby on the sidewalk give her a second look. She has to unlock her phone and pretend to be busy, but then she’s faced with comments pouring in on every social media account that she opens. She can text one of her friends but it’s hard to continue a conversation, really, after it starts with a rousing Miss Vanjie, no matter how much in jest.

Being outside the gym means that she’s reminded of her new loss of normalcy.

She takes her time switching back into her sweats after she showers, dragging her feet as she leaves the change room with her gym bag slung over her shoulder. When she squints her eyes she can see Brooke at the far end of the gym, teetering on a stool as she repositions one of the crooked banners. Brooke turns around almost as if she can tell Vanessa is there, a good natured smile and an easy wave following immediately.

“See you tomorrow.”

“Need any help?” Vanessa’s stalling a bit by asking, but maybe Brooke really could use a hand with the banners, or at least an extra set of eyes to make sure that they’re nice and straight.

She’s just helpful, that’s all.

Brooke, to her credit, doesn’t call Vanessa out for it as she squints, admiring her handiwork. “I think they’re as aligned as they’re ever going to be. I’m going to get ready to leave for the night, too.”

“Oh,” Vanessa doesn’t mean to sound a little disappointed as Brooke jumps off the stool, fiddling with the jacket that’s slung across her arm. “Already?”

“It’s almost eight thirty,” Brooke points out, padding past Vanessa towards her office door and grabbing her coat off of the hook. “You’re not tired and ready to go home yet?”

“I just…”

Vanessa trails off, looking down at the ground. She’s not sure what to say, really. All that’s waiting for her is her apartment, but she can’t mindlessly scroll Twitter or Instagram before bed without seeing her face again. She needs to reply to her friends’ texts, but the notifications are piling up on top of one another like a mountain that she’s not really sure how she’s going to climb.

Vanessa just wants to avoid it all.

Brooke pauses, and each second that passes makes Vanessa’s heart constrict because maybe she should just try to explain, but she doesn’t know how to and it feels like too much-

“C’mon. My roommate and I are having a late dinner and rewatching Chicken Little. Are you in for a nacho night?”

Brooke’s looking at her expectantly and Vanessa wants to say yes, but what pops out of her mouth is what’s pressing on her even more. “Did you say rewatching Chicken Little?”

“It’s a good movie!” Brooke’s defensiveness makes Vanessa crack a smile despite how restless she feels, how much she’s fidgeting while standing in place. “Come over and you’ll see.”

“Y’know, we haven’t talked about movies before, but this recommendation is making me question what your taste is like,” Vanessa lets out a giggle, when Brooke’s mock offense takes over her face as she puts a hand to her heart.

“The disrespect. You’re not getting nachos with those kinds of statements,” Brooke grabs Vanessa’s gym bag, slinging it over her shoulder as she holds the door open. “Now c’mon.”

Brooke’s apartment is not what Vanessa expects - there are colours and tapestries lining the walls and even one on the ceiling, and she’s pretty sure she sees a bong on top of the refrigerator. It’s pretty, though, with the art splashed across every free surface and the shelves filled with books upon books, piles of even more on the actual floor. Vanessa has to resist the urge to go and sit down on the wicker chair in front of the television that’s suspended from the ceiling.

“Yvie’s the one behind the decor.” Brooke has a knowing smile on her face and Vanessa can feel her cheeks heat up, from how easily Brooke can read her mind. “Moved in a few years ago after she broke up with a long term partner. Never really got around to adding things of my own to the walls.”

Vanessa snickers before she can even get her joke out properly. “What would you add? A Chicken Little poster?”

Brooke, for her part, doesn’t miss a beat. “Nah. A poster of your meme.”

“Wow-”

“I know we were thinking nachos, but picture this. Chicken nuggets while we watch Chicken Little.” A girl with bright green hair pops her head out from behind a door, waving at the two of them.

Vanessa waves back, her eyebrows lifting higher and higher on her forehead when she realizes how tall the girl is as she walks closer. Even Brooke has to look up at her which is a strange sight on its own, considering how much Brooke towers over Vanessa.

Then again, Vanessa’s used to being the short one.

“Vanessa here is doubting the movie’s genius,” Brooke raises an eyebrow, and the girl lets out a fake gasp.

“Um, not a movie. Chicken Little is a film. An artistic masterpiece.”

“Are you two the presidents of the Chicken Little fan club?” Vanessa asks, as Brooke sticks her tongue out at her.

“Yes. And no, you can’t join.”

It’s interesting how Brooke’s work demeanor has dropped now that she’s in her own apartment, her normally squared shoulders a little more relaxed. It reminds Vanessa of when they went roller skating, seeing how much fun Brooke had while pulling her around the rink.

Vanessa wants to see more of it.

Brooke points at her roommate as the girl sticks out a hand. “Ness, this is Yvie. Yvie, Vanessa. I’m coaching her.”

“You’re introducing her as if I haven’t heard you talk about her every single day for the last however many months,” Yvie drawls and Brooke’s sputter is immediate, making Vanessa’s breath hitch a little in her throat.

Brooke talks about her?

Yvie pats Brooke on the back as if she’s choking on her water rather than on some words, sticking her other hand out for Vanessa to shake. “You’re Brooke’s favourite student. Also her only student, technically, but still a favourite nonetheless.”

Brooke’s cheeks are bright pink and Vanessa can’t deny that the sight is adorable, seeing her flustered for once. Still. Brooke probably recaps their training sessions and nothing more.

“As long as it’s mostly positive,” Vanessa shrugs, and the way Brooke emphatically nods makes her feel better than she wants to admit.

“I don’t think I could come up with anything negative about you.”

“Except for your dislike of Chicken Little. That’s a negative if I’ve ever seen one.”

The platter of chicken nuggets that Yvie places on the coffee table with a flourish is impressive, to say the least. There’s a little bowl of ketchup on the side, along with sweet and sour sauce and something that looks to be...ranch?

Whatever it is, Vanessa’s nose wrinkles at the sight. “Which one of you eats ranch with chicken nuggets? Is that legal?”

Yvie’s cackle and Brooke’s flushed cheeks tell Vanessa all she needs to know as she plops down beside Brooke on the couch, nudging her side. “Really?”

“The flavour combination is great!” Brooke mutters, grabbing a chicken nugget and dipping it in the ranch for posterity, holding it up close to Vanessa’s face. “Try it.”

Vanessa scooches herself towards the edge of the couch, away from the chicken nugget and the ranch that’s slowly dripping down like a melting ice cream. “Absolutely not.”

“It’s delicious-”

“It’s cursed-”

“More for me, then,” Brooke tosses the chicken nugget into her mouth, and Vanessa’s not sure, really, how she’s handling the flavours together without puking. “You’re missing out.”

“Very happy to miss out on that, thank you very much. I’ll take the ketchup.”

It turns out that Chicken Little isn’t so bad with Yvie and Brooke peppering in commentary as they watch, and Vanessa finds herself getting swept into the plot, as ridiculous as it is. The glass of cider that Yvie’s brought for each of them is making Vanessa feel a little more relaxed, her shoulders not as stiff anymore as she leans against the back of the couch. It’s fun to watch Brooke’s face, really, and the way she lights up while quoting the movie as it plays.

Vanessa makes a mental note to invite Brooke over to watch more movies. Better movies. Expand her palate. Chicken Little cannot be at the top of Brooke’s movie pyramid, not when there are better choices available, like Pretty Woman. Sure, Vanessa’s not exactly a film connoisseur herself, but still. Anything beats Chicken Little, right?

Maybe it’s just the cider settling in, maybe it’s the full stomach of chicken nuggets, but...it’s nice. Comfortable. Vanessa pulls her feet up behind her on the couch before grabbing a throw pillow to hug on her lap, and really, she could fall asleep right where she’s sitting, even to the dulcet tones of the main chicken character screaming about an alien invasion. Brooke looks over as Vanessa settles herself more into the couch, her expression unreadable but then she reaches over the back of the couch, grabbing the throw blanket behind them.

“Wanna share? It’s kinda cold.”

It’s not cold and Vanessa knows it, she knows that Brooke does too, but Brooke’s face is soft and tentative and adorable and sharing a blanket with her would make the couch situation even more cozy.

Plus, she can cuddle with Brooke, because Brooke is tall and thus is a tall, comfortable cushion to lean against.

Brooke throws the blanket across both of them and Vanessa scoots closer to her so that their laps are covered, the fabric fuzzy and warm. The side of Vanessa’s upper thigh leans against Brooke’s and she’s not sure why she’s so hyper aware of the fact, or why Brooke’s arm across the back of the couch makes her want to snuggle in even closer.

It’s just Brooke, after all. Brooke, who’s seen her when she’s all sweaty and about to collapse on the gym floor. Brooke, who had been there at her worst after the last tournament and still wants to coach her and spend time with her. Brooke, whose secret love for Twilight will never fail to make Vanessa laugh.

If it’s just Brooke, then why is Vanessa’s heart taking flight in her chest when Brooke starts to absentmindedly trace patterns on her palm? She doesn’t know why Brooke’s touch is lighting up a pattern of sparks on her skin either, or why Brooke’s side is so comfortable to lean against. Why Vanessa almost wishes that the movie could go on forever, so that she can stay warm and safe under Brooke’s arm that’s now draped across her shoulders.

Maybe Vanessa doesn’t need answers for all of those questions, not yet, not if finding out the answers would mean disrupting the delicate balance that hangs in the air between them. Brooke shuffles a little bit and when Vanessa’s head ends up against her chest, she can feel the way Brooke’s heart is beating, surely faster than any heart should. It’s a contrast from how seemingly relaxed the rest of Brooke’s body is, how her arms around Vanessa aren’t tense, restricting, but rather grounding, pulling her down.

Leaning back against Brooke is warm, familiar. It’s a feeling of home in a situation so novel, so different from how they usually are, like pulling on a sweater that Vanessa’s not sure how she’s ever lived without. Maybe, just maybe, Vanessa doesn’t ever have to take it off.

Vanessa doesn’t realize that the credits start rolling on the screen until Yvie rolls off of the lilac armchair, reaching for the remote on the coffee table. She lets out a yawn, stretching her arms up high before shutting off the TV. “I, for one, am exhausted. And as fun as this was, it’s my bedtime.”

Brooke snickers, and Vanessa can feel the way her chest reverberates underneath her. “You and I both know you’re about to go Facetime Scarlet.”

“That’s what bedtime means,” Yvie wiggles her eyebrows, and Brooke’s noise of disgust is immediate.

“Horrifying. You two better keep it down this time. My ears still haven’t recovered from overhearing you both last week,” Brooke shudders as Yvie cackles, shutting the door to her bedroom with a click.

Vanessa turns in Brooke’s grip, shooting a questioning look. Surely Yvie can’t be louder than the average person on Facetime. “Overhearing what?”

Brooke makes a face, the haunted look in her eyes almost comedic from the way that she sighs. “Let me put it this way. Yvie and her girlfriend are in a long distance relationship, which is hard on them for a multitude of reasons. One of them being their libidos.”

“Their libidos…” Vanessa trails off, her face falling when she realizes what Brooke means. “Oh no. Not that. Tell me not that.”

“Exactly that. They’re quieter over Facetime than they are when Scarlet visits, at least. That’s a blessing.”

Vanessa shudders. Sure, she’s not exactly quiet in bed either, but the thought of people on the other side of the wall being able to hear everything is horrifying, especially because of the fact that she lives with Alexis. Her sister does not need to know details about her sex life, that’s for sure.

Still, Vanessa wonders how loud Yvie must be. “How do they even make so much noise with phone sex, anyway? Yodel?”

“Mating calls that would fit in perfectly in a National Geographic documentary,” Brooke lets out a snicker, her hand clapping over her mouth when Yvie lets out an ‘I heard that!’ from behind her bedroom door. “Still, glad I’m not about to suffer through overhearing it alone. You’ve saved my evening.”

Vanessa snorts, pulling back from Brooke’s embrace to face her, leaning against the back of the couch. “Glad to be of service.”

Brooke is softness and kindness and contentment all at once, and the easy smile on her face is one that Vanessa feels so lucky to see the longer and longer that she knows her. It’s moments like these that Vanessa wants to hold on to forever - when Brooke’s guard is down, when her posture is relaxed and she’s looking over with eyes that Vanessa could drown in. She wants to package up this version of Brooke that isn’t tethered by reminders of her past, or with upholding a legacy that defines her whether she likes it or not. At times like this, Brooke isn’t a boxer with her father’s last name, or Vanessa’s coach responsible for facilitating her success. She’s just Brooke, a girl whose gaze is so mesmerizing that makes Vanessa’s breathing hitch in her throat without even realizing it.

Brooke holds out a hand and it’s almost second nature for Vanessa to link her fingers with hers, their hands fitting together in a way that doesn’t make sense, not when Vanessa’s hands are so much smaller. But Brooke’s grip is an anchor that keeps her from floating away, one that centers her and lets her focus on the upward curve of Brooke’s lips, the softness of her eyes when she smiles.

Except then Brooke’s brow is furrowing, a hint of concern in her eyes that Vanessa wants to brush away for her. “You okay? You’re quieter than usual.”

Vanessa can feel her face heating up as she stutters, pulling her eyes away from Brooke’s face to focus on the stitching along the couch cushions. “I’m fine. I...nothing.”

She can’t exactly go out and tell Brooke, someone who’s a coach and also a friend for that matter, that she’s just a little bit mesmerized by her face. Not something that’s likely to go over well.

Vanessa’s past relationships have been nothing short of peacocking, making herself known to those she’s had an interest in because they’d inevitably chase her right back. She knows her worth, knows how to go after what she wants, but…

What does she even want, now?

She doesn’t want Brooke, she can’t, not when Brooke is her coach and someone who’s becoming more and more important towards every aspect of her life, someone who she texts when she wakes up in the morning and who she’s messaging as she’s falling asleep.

Brooke’s not the type of person that Vanessa can parade around and go on a few dates with while drinking the cheapest wine on the menu for shits and giggles. She’s not someone that Vanessa can let go of easily, the way she’s had to with previous relationships that didn’t work out. Brooke is different from them.

She’s not disposable, not someone that Vanessa wants to let go of from her life. She isn’t someone that Vanessa can let go of at this point, because the thought of not seeing her amused expressions in the gym or the pride on her face while they’re training is too much to deal with. Vanessa’s only beginning to read through Brooke’s pages to learn more about her, and finding out little details that make her want to melt and pull Brooke just a little closer to her heart.

Brooke is too important.

Sure, Vanessa’s breath hitches in her chest whenever Brooke pulls her closer, and maybe Brooke’s smile is enough to drown out any background noise buzzing around them, but Vanessa also knows that she falls hard. And fast. She’s impulsive, following what her heart tells her to do and most of the time, she can deal with the consequences because she knows she’ll be able to get back up again.

But if this is a miscalculation? If saying something means that they’ll end up in pieces that neither of them will be able to put back together?

It’s too big of a risk. At least, for now.

Vanessa can’t be the one to take the jump off the cliff, not yet.

So she smiles, puts on the most reassuring expression that she can, hoping that it’s enough to soothe the concern that splays itself across Brooke’s features. “Really, I am. Just thinking about all the press shenanigans that Detox has lined up for me tomorrow.”

It’s enough for Brooke’s features to relax just a little bit, the smile on her face almost nostalgic. “I’m glad it’s you now, and not me, on Detox’s receiving end. She’s ruthless in the best way.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

There’s a sinking feeling in Vanessa’s chest by going for the cop out, but...she has no other choice. It’s not the way she normally handles situations like this, a fact made clear by how much she has to push down the butterflies in her stomach, and hide them behind a door so that they don’t escape and ruin stakes that feel too high, too much of a risk.

Still, Vanessa’s a bit of a sucker for punishment, and so when Brooke pulls her closer into a hug, it’s as easy as breathing to snuggle into her and rest her head against her chest, because Brooke’s arms are warm and safe and manage to slow her thinking down just a bit.

Part of Vanessa feels like she can handle it and hold herself back from doing anything stupid, if only to not mess everything up. She can be this close to Brooke and not have her chest split in two and maybe it’s a blessing, and something that she has to hold on to. Except that by leaning against Brooke, she can feel how fast Brooke’s heart is beating, threatening to escape from her chest before she can possibly stop it. It’s a contrast from the gentle way that Brooke’s fingers run through her hair, betraying the calmness on the outside that she’s trying so hard to convey.

Maybe Vanessa’s not the only one holding back. Maybe Brooke also feels it, maybe she’s also teetering on the bridge that Vanessa’s trying her best not to lose her footing on, and the thought gives Vanessa pause for a second, because maybe the risk is one they can manage, something they can work with...

No. No.

They can’t.

Not if it would lead to everything falling to pieces around them, not if it would mean no more training and no more Brooke in general. Because that’s how relationships always seem to end, don’t they?

As much as Vanessa has always wanted the romantic movie ending and a kiss in the rain, it hasn’t happened to her yet, much to her teenage self’s disappointment. There’s too much on the line to see if Brooke will be the one to veer her onto a different path and change the outcome.

So, Vanessa has to be happy with what she’s getting now, this friendship with Brooke and the coaching and accept it for all that it’s worth. Because Brooke’s important, maybe the most important person in Vanessa’s life and she has to take what she gets.

She’s lucky enough to have it in the first place, after all.

#rpdr fanfiction #vanessa vanjie mateo #brooke lynn hytes #branjie #lesbian au #boxing au #boxer au #level up #holtzmanns

16 notes · View notes

castielific · 4 years

Text

Title: Fancy and the tramp

Story status: Complete, 8 chapters

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Dean/Castiel, Alternate Universe, Fake boyfriends, pretend relationship, homeless!Dean, rich!Cas, family, angst with a happy ending, temporary breakup, getting back together, coming out, past!homophobia, self esteem issues, Dean Winchester has a sexuality crisis, first time, homelessness, bed sharing, pining

Sex tags: anal sex, switching, bottom!Cas, bottom!Dean, first time, frottage, marking, blowjob, fingering, barebacking

Special warning: Contrary to what the title may presage, there are no spaghettis in this story.

Summary:

"Okay, let's be clear on one thing from the start. This is not a lifetime movie and I'm straight, so no falling in love, get it?"

"I get it, Dean," Castiel nods.

Well, that's it then, apparently Dean is going to a fancy engagement party with his new fake boyfriend. What a weird day.

Link to AO3

Chapter 1 under the cut:

************

"Come on Ricky, you owe me that money!" Dean says on his phone, taking a step forward when the line of the coffee shop shortens.

"I don't owe you shit, Dean. You still owe me the last three months of your rent," his ex landlord says on the phone.

"And I'll pay you, you know I will. But to get the money, I need a job, and to get that job I need some new clothes and-"

"Yeah yeah, I know the deal. You think no one has told me that one before? No bueno, man, I'm keeping your deposit," Ricky grumbles.

Dean groans in frustration. "Come on, all I need is fifty dollars so I can buy a pair of pants without any holes in it. You give me fifty, I get the job and I pay you back, how does that sound?" he tries to negotiate.

"Like a fucking lie," Ricky spits just before hanging up.

"No Ric-fuck!"

The woman in front of him in line sends him a dark look. Dean rolls his eyes at her. Like she hasn't heard worse before.

Ricky was his last shot. It was a long one, he really does owe that bastard some serious money. Guess he can kiss the job interview at two goodbye. It's some kind of assistant job. It sounds easy enough, buying coffee and picking dry cleaning and stuff. It was still a long shot anyway. Dean's only real job experience is being a bagger boy when he was seventeen and it lasted about two months before his dad decided to move them further east.

So far, he'd always managed to get by doing repairs or cleaning at gas stops and motels. The older he gets and the harder it gets to find that kind of random job. People are more willing to give a few bucks in exchange for manual tasks to a kid than they are to a nearly thirty years old guy. Now they just tell him to fuck off.

And since it's always been casual and off the book, the only official work experience he has is the bagger thing. He doesn't even have a high school diploma because he dropped out long before that. Not exactly a stellar resume. Which explains why he hasn't found work in eight month and is currently living in his car. Thank God he has Baby.

He had been too ambitious thinking he could get his own place. It could only pay rent for about five months before he went broke. He's never had a home before, and had no idea that having an apartment cost so much. In motels, you don't exactly have to pay for water or heat or utilities. There was a bunch of stuff he hadn't planned for that ate up the last of his meagre savings. Ricky threw him out after three months when Dean couldn't scrape up enough money to pay rent anymore, putting a violent stop to Dean's pipe dream of living a normal life. He hoped it would be simpler to get a job if he had an actual address, had even thought about scrapping up enough to maybe get his GED. He's not sure what he's going to do now.

He's always wanted to be a mechanic. If his dad ever taught him anything, it was how to take care of the Impala. John taught him all the basics and Dean got the knack of it. As a teen, he spent days reading car magazines and working on the Impala, trying to learn as much as he could about how cars worked and how to repair the different parts. He knows enough by now that he could easily work in a garage, but he's got no diploma, and hasn't found anyone willing to hire him on faith alone.

The line of the coffee shop shortens again, the barista asking her order to the goody-two-shoes in front of him. Dean looks regretfully at the display of sandwiches. He searches his pockets and only comes up with three dollars. Of course, the cheapest piece of food cost four dollars. Dean sighs. Guess just a coffee will have to do today.

He won't have another choice but to go to the soup kitchen tonight. He hates it there. The food is crap and he wants to punch the prancy people serving it. They always try to give him some Jesus bullshit with his food, like Jesus is ever gonna put a roof over his head and find him a decent job. Neither Jesus nor God nor whatever gives a crap about him. Not that he blames them. Hell, if they exist they're probably not big fans of the guy that used to slip into church as a kid to pick the lock of the donation box

"Just an americano, please," Dean says regretfully when the barista asks for his order. At least it will keep him warm and fill his stomach for a short while.

Halloween just went by and the weather is becoming really cold. He should use the last of Baby's tank to go as far south as he can before winter really hits. He probably won't get farther than Wichita though, and the thought makes him shiver. No one wants to get stuck for a winter in Wichita. Maybe he could go and see if he can make a few bucks at the nearest motel, that kind of place always needs a handyman's help. He hasn't tried the one on Corn Street yet. He's noticed only two lights are still working on their sign, he could offer to help with that. If he makes fifty bucks, he might be able to reach Austin.

Dean stops on the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop, pondering if he should walk to the bar a few streets down or the motel. Sometimes Benny, the owner of the bar, lets him use the sink in the back to wash up. If he's lucky, he'll even get some leftovers from last night. It's generally just some stale pretzels, cold fries on good days, but it's still better than nothing. He's got two cans of beans and a car with an near empty tank to his name right now, so he's not picky.

Dean takes a look at his watch. It's eleven thirty already, the leftovers are probably already in the trash at Benny's. The motel is probably his best bet.

"I'll give you a hundred dollars if you pretend to be my boyfriend." comes a hoarse voice, way too close to his ear.

Dean jumps, nearly spilling his coffee on himself. He spins to the right to face the man who just talked and is met with a pair of clear blue eyes. Way too close again. He waits a second for the man to take a step back as he realises as close Dean turning brought them, but the guy just continues to stare at him, head slightly tilted to the side. He's wearing an oversized trench coat over a dark blue suit that looks expensive. He's so close a gust of wind makes the bottom of his coat brushes Dean's shin.

"Dude, personal space," Dean reproaches, taking a step back. "And fuck off, I don't swing that way," he adds, not meanly. It's not the first time he's getting hit on by a dude. Sadly, not even the weirdest. He's strictly into chicks though, so no dice.

"Two hundred bucks," the man insists. He looks ready to fall on his knees and beg, eyes going wider and wider as he throws a panicked look to the right of Dean's shoulder. "It won't take more than ten minutes and all you have to do is nod along," he begs, making Dean wonders if he's in danger somehow. Maybe he has a stalker or an abusive ex?

Dean follows his eyes to a woman coming closer. She's very elegant in a grey pantsuit and a long white fur coat as she walks straight toward them. He can feel her eyes judging him even from thirty feet away, looking at him from head to toes. If he wasn't already self-aware of the number of holes in his jeans, he would definitely be under that gaze.

"Five hundred dollars," the other man whispers just as the blond woman reaches them.

"Castiel, dear, you should have told me we would have company, I would have notified the restaurant," the woman says, sending a clearly disapproving look toward Dean as she deposits a kiss on the other man's - (Castiel, apparently, what kind of name is that??) - cheek.

"Mother, let me introduce you to my boyfriend," Castiel says, looking ill at ease. He's obviously not a very good liar.

Dean blinks a few times as their attention turns toward him. Castiel seems to be trying to communicate something with his eyes, and Dean frowns in incomprehension for a moment before he gets the hint.

"Huh. Dean. Winchester," he finally says. "Ma'am," he adds when she just continues to stare at him like he has grease smeared all over his face. He's pretty sure that she wouldn't want to touch his hand if he were to offer it to shake, so he doesn't.

"Naomi Novak," she introduces herself. "What a delight to finally meet Castiel's new companion," Naomi says, her deadpan tone contradicting her words. "Of course, I would have preferred not to be ambushed by such an announcement. Castiel, you know, that Le Délice hates it when we change our reservation last minute. Who knows if they will even have a table for three," she declares, already composing a number on her phone.

"It's okay, mother, Dean won't be joining us for lunch."

"Oh, is it because your attire isn't appropriate?" Castiel's mother asks, looking at the holes in Dean's jeans and the big leather jacket that used to be his dad's. "I assure you they won't say a word about it if you're with us," she reassures.

Dean squirms a little, wondering what the hell is even happening. Ten minutes ago he was buying a coffee and going at his day like a perfectly normal person (well, albeit a homeless and jobless one). Now, his fashion sense is being criticized by the mother of a man who is pretending to be his boyfriend. Did a piano fall on his head or something? Has he finally lost his mind?

He looks to the man beside him. He's scratching the side of his neck in nervousness. The move makes his coat fall a little over his wrist, revealing a freaking Rolex watch. Dean looks back to the woman, eyes sliding on her diamond earrings and the huge rock around her neck.

You know what? That's not okay. His stomach has been crying for food since last morning, and he's what? Supposed to help this stranger by saying no to free lunch at one of the most prestigious restaurants in town? Fuck no. He's gonna eat like a king and make a few hundred bucks off the back of those rich assholes.

"In that case, it would be my pleasure to join you," Dean announces with his most charming smile.

"What?" Castiel can't help but bark. "But y-your work thing?" he tries, sweating. The round panic eyes are back. Dean sends him his best shit eating grin. They both know he now either has to invite this stranger to lunch or reveal the lie to his mother. The guy is trapped and may as well continue to play along.

"It's not as important as a chance to finally get to know your mother, honey," Dean answers. "He's told me so many nice things about you, Naomi. Can I call you Naomi?"

"Of course, dear," Naomi says. She looks a little wide eyed too, probably thrown by Dean turning on the charm to the max.

"Perfect! We shall go now, we don't want to miss your reservation. I do hope it won't be too much of a bother for them to add a chair to your table," Dean says. He should probably tone it down with the pompous tone, because he nearly added an English accent here.

Naomi leads the way, and Dean is going to follow when a hand grabbing his arm makes him fall a few steps behind.

"What the hell are you doing?" Castiel hisses.

"Acting as your boyfriend?" Dean says innocently. By Castiel's glare, he's not fooled.

"I asked you to nod silently for ten minutes, not to do method acting for a whole meal," he reproaches. Naomi sends a look behind her shoulder and Castiel smiles at her like there is no worries, indicating for her to lead the way,

Dean shrugs. "I had some free time."

"I'm not giving you more money than planned, if that's your goal," Castiel says with a suspicious squint.

"I'm fine with the five hundred as long as you're also paying for lunch," Dean says, wiggling his eyebrows as they walk toward the restaurant. Something passes on Castiel's face that Dean can't quite identify. The other man stares at him for so long that it's a wonder he doesn't trip. He finally relents with a long suffering sigh as they enter 'Le Délice'.

Apparently, Naomi Novak is prominent enough that they don't mind changing her reservation after all. They're seated at a table near a legit indoor fountain. Dean is looking around, trying not to let show how impressed he is by the place. The walls are made of stone and covered in frescos that he always thought you couldn't see outside of a church or castle. A waiter gives him a leather covered menu and Dean opens it eagerly. After a few niceties to Naomi, they're asked what they want to drink. Dean has an inkling that he probably shouldn't ask for a beer in an establishment like this.

"Same for me, please," he says after Castiel ordered some wine with a name Dean can't pronounce. At least, he hopes that's wine. Who knows. Hell, in this place the bottles of water are probably more expensive than his usual brand of beer.

Dean starts to second guess his decision when he realizes that the menu is in french. What is it with rich people and France? He just wants a damn steak, how do you say that in french? Is there even steaks here or is it just frog legs and snails? Oh god, he hopes not.

"I think I'll take the duck today," Naomi notes. "Nobody cooks it better than chef Francis. How about you Dean? Have you ever come here before?" There is a mean glint in her eyes that says she knows perfectly well he hasn't. Hell, from the side eyes he got from everyone as they crossed the room, everyone here knows he's not from their world. There are three holes in his jeans, threads hanging from the bottom and his dad's leather jacket probably should have ended up in the trash about three years ago. Even now, it's still too big for him and the sleeves are so scruffed that they're nearly paper thin. The original dark brown color has turned to a light beige in most places from wear. His scruff is just the bad side of too long now, and he hasn't had a haircut since April, strands starting to fall into his eyes. At least, he's wearing his best plaid shirt and managed to wash up last night, so he's not smelling too rank. Why would Castiel pick him out of all the people in the street at that moment to play his boyfriend? It makes no sense at all. From the guy's obvious discomfort as he hides behind his menu, he probably realizes it.

"Actually, Naomi, duck sounds like a delicious idea," Dean says, voluntarily ignoring her question. To be honest, he’s never even eaten duck before, but it's poultry so it probably taste like chicken. You can't go wrong with chicken, right? His stomach certainly likes the idea, gurgling so loudly that he has to hide it behind a cough.

Castiel ends up ordering some fish and soon their drinks arrive. Dean barely has time to sip at his red wine before Naomi pounces.

"So, tell me everything, how did you two meet?"

Dean nearly chokes on his drink. Castiel seems to gulp down his whole glass.

"We met at a coffee shop. Dean was in line in front of me and we started to talk," Castiel explains, not quite meeting anyone's eyes.

"How quaint!" Naomi exclaims, clasping her hands in delight. "I'm just sorry that you didn't tell me about it sooner, Castiel. How long have you been keeping this charming man a secret?"

"Not-," Castiel clears his throat, "-not long."

"Well, it's nice to finally meet you Dean. I sure wish this luncheon will give me the chance to learn everything about you."

Luncheon? Who even talks like that outside of Downton Abbey?

"I do hope I'll get to keep some mystery, we wouldn't want this guy to lose interest," Dean says with a wink. He pats Castiel's hand on the table. Should he hold it or something? How open on PDA are gay people those days? Not that he knows more about how heterosexual couple act in public anyway, especially in those crowds. It's probably safer to keep the PDA to a minimum here.

"You have to at least tell me some things. For one, what career path are you on?" She looks like a shark circling her prey.

"I'm a mechanic," he lies. He'd rather stay as close to the truth as possible. It's a little unfair that Castiel is letting him do all the talking when his initial demand was that he stayed silent, especially since it's his skin that Dean is apparently saving, but the guy looks like he's swallowed a potato whole.

"Oh, that's...interesting," Naomi says in that insincere tone of hers. She looks like he told her he was fucking children’s corpses every full moon. He's two seconds away from telling her that he's actually jobless, penniless, and homeless, just to see her face, when Castiel intervenes.

"How is Anna's engagement party coming on?"

Thankfully, this seems to be a subject Naomi loves because she tells them about every aspect of the future party all the way through their meal.

Duck, as it turns out, is actually very good. It's more like red meat than chicken, which is a great surprise. Although, Dean isn't a fan of the way rich people put tiny quantities of food in very large plates. He eats all the dinner rolls and scrapes every single bit of sauce out of his plate, yet he's still hungry by the end of it. He nearly starts crying when the waiter asks them if they'll take dessert and Naomi declines. He's starting to wonder if that little piece of duck was worth sitting through lunch with her.

"That sounds like you're turning this into a wonderful event, mother, Anna must be delighted," Castiel compliments.

"Oh, you know your sister," Naomi waves it off. "It sure feels like a nice opportunity to introduce your new beau to everyone."

Dean frowns. What's a beau? Is that him? That's not him, right?

"I wouldn't dare take any attention away from Anna," Castiel tries to refuse.

"Don't be daft, you know your sister won't care. Everyone will be so happy that you've finally found-" she passes a long look, over Dean, like she's doubting anyone would actually approve of him. She certainly doesn't seem to, "-someone," she finishes lamely.

"Oh shoot, I don't think I'm available that night," Dean tries to play off.

"I'm not sure I've told you the date of it yet."

"Cas did," he says. The other man perks up at the surname, but whatever, 'Castiel' is a mouthful. "And I have this huh work thing, you know? Bummer," Dean says with a fake pout.

"What kind of 'work thing' can a mechanic possibly have on a Saturday evening?"

Dean tenses up, pursing his lips. "One he can't get out of?"

"Nonsense, you're coming," Naomi brushes off. And that is that apparently. Shit. There is a vein about to pop on Castiel's forehead. "Castiel, dear, you look a little white. Was the fish okay?"

"I-Yeah-I-Actually, do you think we could possibly cut our lunch short? I am indeed feeling quite unwell."

"Of course, my dear," Naomi says, leaning forward until her hand touches his forehead. "You're as clammy as a fish. I should come home with you, and make sure you're okay," she announces, taking her napkin off her lap and deposing it on the table, ready to stand up.

"No!" Castiel stops her, a little too brusquely. "I-Dean will take good care of me, don't worry," he says, getting up and grabbing Dean's arm so he does so too. Dean follows his lead, all too happy to get out of here. "Stay and enjoy your tea, mother."

"If you say so," Naomi says, sending an unsure look at Dean, obviously upset at being brushed off in his favor. "Call me this evening, or I'll worry all night."

"Of course, mother," Castiel acquiesces, kissing her cheek. Dean hovers behind him. Is he supposed to kiss her too? Wave hello? Shake her hand?

"Dean," she says as what is apparently a sufficient goodbye. Thank God. "I'll be sure to see you on Saturday," she reminds just as they're walking away.

Cas turns on him as soon as they're outside the restaurant.

"What was that?!" he asks, not quite yelling. He starts pacing, rubbing a hand through his already pretty ruffled hair.

"You owing me five hundred bucks? Dude, you're lucky I don't charge you more for the fresh hell I just lived through."

"You went through hell? You?!" his pacing gets faster and Dean has an idea that if he stops pacing he might punch him in the face.

"That's what you get for asking this kind of stuff from a perfect stranger," Dean shrugs, pushing a pebble with the point of his shoe. His red sock is peeking out from a tiny hole near his big toe. It's such a contrast to how grand everything and everyone looked in there. It's making him feel like shit. He's maybe feeling a tiny bit guilty for trapping Castiel like that too. He doesn't seem like a bad guy, albeit one with a psycho mom.

Cas turns on him, eyes glaring and mouth open in what will probably be a flow of reproaches. He stops himself before he says anything though, seeming to deflate. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breathe instead, shoulders falling. "I'm sorry. You're right. I should be thanking you. I have no right to make you any reproach when I brought this on myself."

"It wasn't so bad, though, was it? I mean, I think I sold it?" Dean asks, a little hesitant. He even used pedantic talk and everything.

"You did as well as could be expected."

"That's not much of a compliment…".

"I shouldn't take more of your time," Cas apologizes, taking his wallet out. Dean goggles at the amount of cash in there.

"You really shouldn't have that much cash on you, that's, like, asking for trouble."

Castiel squints at him like he's wondering if that means Dean is gonna rob him for a moment, before he hands him a wad of cash.

Dean's eyes bulge out, "That's way more than five hundred dollars."

"There's also an advance in there to buy some clothes for the engagement party."

"The what now?" Dean blinks dumbly for a second until his brain catches up to what is happening. "Dude, no, I'm done!"

"You were the one to push it so far in the first place," Castiel reminds. Accuses, really.

"I just wanted to eat fancy food, okay! Not, like, go steady."

"There will be lots of food at my sister's engagement party," Castiel tries to persuade. Badly.

Dean gives him a nonplussed look. The cash feels heavy in his hand. He's never had so much before. This could help him get a new start. What's a night of playing Downton Abbey compared to the many many nights he might not have to freeze his ass off in the backseat of his car thanks to it?

"Why are you even doing this anyway? And why would you choose me? Do I look that desperate for cash?"

"No," Cas says after what's definitely a too long pause. Dean scowls. "You were in front of me in the coffee shop line. I heard you talking on the phone. You said you needed some cash to buy a new outfit for a job interview. Begged, really."

"Where the fuck do you get on listening in on other people’s conversation?"

"I didn't listen, I just heard."

"You know, what? Fuck you," Dean spits, "I don't need that bullshit in my life right now." He has enough cash to get to Austin and replenish his stock of food, even buy some new clothes. At least this way he can keep his dignity rather than being insulted by a bunch of rich assh-

"Please," Castiel begs, following him as Dean storms away. "You don't understand…"

"Oh I understand perfectly," Dean says, stopping and turning around so brusquely that they nearly bump into each other. "You think you can shit on other people from your high horse and that they'll still do your deed for a few hundred bucks. Well, I'm not your freaking puppet, man."

"I have never shitted on any-" he stops himself with a frustrated groan, before turning on the puppy dog eyes. "Dean, please. Listen to what I have to say at least?"

"I know what you're gonna say. I've seen that movie before, Cas. You're going to bring me to that party, so you can parade me around like I'm some earned price or some shit. Meanwhile you get to appease mommy dearest and the clan of hyenas putting pressure on you to find a husband, while still having the satisfaction of giving them a huge fuck you by bringing a guy like me instead of the golden boy they're dreaming of."

"I-" Castiel stops himself, pursing his lips. "That's actually not that far from the reality."

"Of course it isn't. Told you, I've seen that trope before. Except this is real life and your plan sucks, so you can keep your money and I'll keep my dignity. Just grow a pair and tell them all to fuck off, will ya?"

"You sure do like saying that to people," Castiel sulks. "Are you sure you can't do it for me?"

"Oh believe me I would love to tell your mom to fuck off, but I like my balls attached to my body, so that's a hard pass."

Castiel laughs slightly at that and Dean can feel his own anger start to abate at the sound. "Good self-preservation instinct on your part," Cas mumbles. The puppy look is still there, except now it's making him feel like he's kicked the puppy.

"You know, we're in the 21st century, right? You shouldn't feel pressured to the point of inventing a boyfriend. Who gives a shit about that nowadays?"

"My family does," Castiel answers in a long sigh. "You don't get it, how could you... I have three brothers, Dean," Castiel explains. "Two sisters. My little sister, who is just nineteen, just got engaged. I was already seen as the irremediably unwed one and now I…," he pauses, sending a nervous look at Dean, looking ashamed.

"Oh come on. How hard can it be? You're rich, objectively good looking. Do you have weird kinks or something?"

"I-I wouldn't know. I've never even been in a relationship before," he confesses, looking at the ground.

"When you say 'relationship', you don't mean you've never…" Dean inquires. Cas' cheeks redden, and Dean blows like he just got punched. "Wow. That sucks."

"Yes, it's very pathetic."

"What? Eh no, it's not pathetic. Surprising, yeah. But, to each their own, you know?"

Cas inclines his head like he's not sure he does know.

"I'm sorry I tried to drag you in all of this. You seem like a good man. You don't deserve-"

"-to be served on a platter to your family?" Dean asks, searching Castiel's gaze until they exchange a smile.

"Yes. That." The man is still looking dejected. The money is still in Dean's hand. That duck really was good. Damn it.

"The food better be freaking awesome," Dean relents with a frustrated grunt. Castiel seems instantly relieved. "And you're not pretty woman-ing me," he warns, pointing a finger at the other man. "I'm choosing my own clothes and I don't give a shit if I don't know which fork to use for fish."

Castiel's head is tilted and he's blinking owlishly, like he doesn't understand a word that Dean is saying. Figures. He's not sure how he could convince anyone that he's this dork's boyfriend, honestly. Naomi certainly looked like she wasn't fooled.

"I'm sorry for the way my mother behaved toward you. I assure you, being yourself will be amply sufficient to the task."

"Dude, the way y'all talk, where do you come from, Victorian England?"

"I-I don't think I have English ancestry, no. Why?"

They blink at each other for some time.

"I must be a freaking masochist."

Cas' face scrunches up even more in incomprehension.

"Okay, let's be clear on one thing from the start. This is not a lifetime movie and I'm straight, so: no falling in love, get it?"

"I get it, Dean," Castiel nods.

Well, that's it then, apparently Dean is going to a fancy engagement party with his new boyfriend. What a weird day...

You can read the rest on AO3

#destiel #destiel fic #deancas #dean/castiel #dean/cas #spn fic #ao3 fic #destiel fanfiction #AU #pretend/fake relationship #homeless!dean #rich!cas #myfic #my fic #castielific #castielificfic

65 notes · View notes