#it's nice to look for meaning in things but i do it too much!! i don't know how to stop and it's devastating me

[imhalfplastic]

still, in paris

⊹ overview - pairing: mingyu x f!reader genre: slice of life · fluff · contemporary · slow burn · lighthearted tone themes: casual romance, soft humor, text-based narrative cw: brief mentions of social anxiety, implied fame context, sfw

summary: you didn’t plan to meet mingyu in paris. and you definitely didn’t plan for a blurry photo, one conversation, and a few late-night texts to turn into the internet’s favorite theory. but maybe the truth is even stranger: quiet, funny, and almost real.

from kai: got this idea after mingyu and sexyy red's moment at the pfw afterparty lol twitter wouldn't stop talking about it. started as a one-shot, but their chemistry was too good… now i'm lowkey tempted to make it longer. not sure yet. let me know what you think!

now playing: paris, texas - lana del rey

you’re not used to this.

the flashing lights, the screams, the chaotic elegance of fashion week in paris. sure, you’ve done premieres and panels before. your netflix series blew up way more than anyone expected, and suddenly your face was everywhere. streaming numbers through the roof. interviews. magazine covers. your face on a billboard near times square.

but this? this is dior.

they flew you out. they dressed you like a dream. they made you sit front row. you smiled, you posed, you pretended you weren't internally freaking out.

because deep down, you still feel like that girl who watched fashion shows at 2am, dreaming about stuff like this. and maybe you’re still that girl. just with better eyeliner and a driver waiting outside.

you make it through the show without tripping or passing out. success.

then someone mentions the afterparty and you’re like... okay. sure. why not. you’ll go. stay twenty minutes. do your duty. leave with grace and dignity and maybe a tiny dessert in your purse.

it’s crowded. obviously. but beautiful. soft lighting. velvet everything. a lot of cheek kisses and air-sipping cocktails. the kind of party where people look bored on purpose.

you’re standing near the back, halfway through a glass of something sparkling and expensive, when you see him. and by “see him,” you mean feel the atoms in the room shift slightly.

he walks in like it’s no big deal. which maybe it isn’t, to him. he’s mingyu. people know him. tall and glossy and casually perfect. wearing something you’re sure costs more than your rent, but it doesn’t even look like he’s trying. you’re not even a hardcore carat, but you’ve seen enough seventeen content to know that he’s funny and clumsy and surprisingly shy for someone that handsome.

you glance. once. okay, maybe twice.

you tell yourself that’s it.

until someone says, “oh, mingyu! this is y/n.”

and your heart tries to climb out of your chest.

he smiles like it’s easy. like he does this all the time. “hi,” he says. “i watched your show.”

you blink. “seriously?”

“yeah,” he says, sipping something clear. “i binged it on a flight.”

you weren’t expecting that. “you watched my show on a plane?”

he shrugs, almost sheepish. “i needed something good. ended up watching the whole thing.”

your mouth opens slightly, like your brain’s buffering.

“that’s… wild,” you say finally. “you watched me act while trapped at thirty thousand feet.”

he laughs. “and liked it.”

you manage to hold eye contact, just barely. “thank you.”

he nods. “you were great. the whole cast was. but yeah, you stood out.”

you try not to smile too much, but it slips through anyway.

“well,” you say, “i’m a fan of yours too.”

he tilts his head a little, amused. “really?”

“really,” you nod. “you’re very good at what you do.”

his gaze softens, just slightly. “thanks.”

he laughs. it’s nice. warm. and you feel oddly calm now. like maybe this is just two people who exist in the same strange world, chatting for a second.

it doesn’t last long. someone pulls him away. someone else tries to talk to you. and just like that, he’s across the room again, surrounded by people who look like they were born on red carpets.

but later, when you’re waiting for your car outside and the air is a little too cold for your dress, you catch him looking at you. just once. a glance. maybe nothing.

but you feel it.

you don’t expect the internet to feel it too.

the next morning, your name is trending.

you think, oh god, what did i say? did someone post a bad angle of me? did i spill something?

but no.

it’s a blurry pic. you and mingyu. standing close. talking. both smiling. someone zoomed in so much that it’s pixelated like a renaissance painting, but the caption says:

“what are they cooking”

another post:

“mingyu looking at her like she hung the stars HELP”

and then:

“she literally said she was a fan of him a few months ago and now they’re at the same party this is my roman empire”

you want to scream. or hide. or laugh. you do all three, kind of.

your dms are unhinged. your friend sends you a tiktok of someone doing a powerpoint presentation titled “why mingyu and y/n would make sense actually.” you text back, i talked to him for thirty seconds.

but it doesn’t matter.

people see what they want to see.

you try to ignore it. let it pass. the internet always moves on eventually, right?

you post a normal picture the next day. a croissant. the eiffel tower in the background. very chill. very “look at me being unbothered in paris.” comments are not chill.

“where is mingyu” “blink twice if it’s real” “what did you talk about PLEASE I BEG”

you don’t reply.

you just keep scrolling. wondering if maybe he saw all this too.

and then, a few nights later, it happens.

your phone lights up. unknown number.

hey. this is mingyu. i hope it’s okay i got your number from someone at the party. just saw the chaos online and thought i should say hi officially.

you sit with that for a full five minutes. you reread it like he might have changed his mind and deleted the message. but it’s still there.

you type.

hi lol yeah the internet’s kinda having a moment huh

he replies almost instantly.

mingyu i forgot how people pay that much attention to who i stand next to lol

you smile. because yeah. same.

you the internet’s wild. last week someone made a thread about how i hold my coffee cup “suspiciously”

he sends a laugh emoji.

mingyu suspicious how

you apparently i grip it like i’m about to throw it at someone

mingyu honestly that’s a power move

you both stop texting for a few minutes. maybe he’s busy. maybe you are. you don’t expect more. but then:

mingyu anyway, sorry if that’s random just made me think of it and you seemed cool

you read that twice. you seemed cool.

you don���t know why it hits the way it does, but it does. quiet, lowkey, easy.

you not random i get it you seemed cool too weirdly calm for someone being chased by cameras

mingyu lol it’s a skill built over time and mild panic

you smile, thumb hovering over your screen. you don’t ask anything else. don’t push.

later that night, when you're brushing your teeth in a hotel bathroom that smells faintly like roses and money, you check your phone one last time.

a final message from him.

mingyu just saw someone on twitter say we have “suspiciously good timing”

you what does that even mean

mingyu like every time one of us posts, the other one’s online

you we’re not special. we’re just addicted to our phones

mingyu they also said we probably have a secret handshake

you we should

mingyu something dramatic lots of finger snaps maybe a spin

you followed by complete denial that we know each other

mingyu of course professionalism

you pause for a second, then type:

you you know this only makes them worse

mingyu yeah isn’t it kind of fun though

you a little

mingyu we should give them just enough to stay confused

you like posting the same sky photo 6 minutes apart

mingyu or both pretending we love the same very specific fruit

you papaya?

mingyu chaos...

you grin at your phone.

neither of you says anything else for a while.

but you don’t leave the chat.

and neither does he.

—-----------------

you wake up to sunlight spilling through gauzy curtains and the sound of distant traffic humming under your window. your phone is on the nightstand, buzzing once with a notification, then going quiet again.

you don’t check it right away.

instead, you stretch. take your time. the sheets are soft, the kind of hotel-soft that feels too luxurious to be real. you think, briefly, about how weird this week has been. fashion week. dior. mingyu.

you smile a little. not because of him, exactly. just... the whole thing. how surreal it all feels.

you finally grab your phone. one unread message.

mingyu walked past a bakery on the way back to the hotel smelled really good made me think this city is unfairly good at mornings

you snort, already smiling.

you i haven’t even left the room yet and now i feel like i’m missing out thanks

mingyu no pressure just reporting the vibes

you noted very responsible of you

mingyu it’s a public service

you should i be worried you’re turning into a pastry influencer

mingyu depends do you think that title comes with free samples

you 100% but only if you post aesthetic overhead shots

mingyu i’ll practice with my leftover croissant though i did already take a bite i was weak

you toss your phone on the bed and head to the shower. you tell yourself you’re not thinking about whether it might buzz while you’re in there.

it’s just texting. it’s just paris. it’s fine.

when you come back out, towel in your hair, your screen lights up.

mingyu do you think the eiffel tower ever gets tired of being perceived

you deeply needs a break maybe a vacation

mingyu it should visit new york blend in for once

you take photos pretending it’s never seen a bagel

mingyu “omg first time in the big city”

you laugh out loud.

you stop i can see the caption

mingyu all lowercase. subtle filter. very aesthetic

you towercore

mingyu #tbt even though it’s live

you laugh. then leave the room and disappear into the paris streets.

you walk with no real plan. you pass tourists, locals, little dogs in sweaters, a couple arguing quietly outside a tabac. the kind of scenes that would look too scripted in any film but feel perfectly normal here.

you get spotted near the river by a girl who looks like she just stepped out of your show’s fan edits. she freezes, eyes wide, then gasps like she can't believe it's actually you.

“no way. i literally watched the entire season in two days,” she says, voice shaking slightly. “i cried. like, real tears. three times.”

you smile, surprised and touched. “that’s so sweet. thank you.”

she hesitates, then blurts, “can i hug you? i’m sorry, i just...”

you laugh softly. “yeah, of course.”

she hugs you tight. not long, but full of emotion. and when she pulls back, her eyes are glassy.

“you’re even cooler in real life,” she says.

“you’re gonna make me cry now,” you reply, still smiling.

when she’s gone, you stand there a moment longer, letting it settle. feeling a little lighter, like the day just got warmer.

how strange it is to be recognized. how stranger it is to feel... okay with it.

you’ve been walking without direction. coffee in hand, sunglasses on, trying not to overthink how quiet your phone’s been.

then, finally, you text him:

you paris keeps looking like something important is about to happen

mingyu like a plot twist?

you or a confession maybe a chase scene

mingyu i could see you in a slow-motion chase

you i’d trip over a baguette

mingyu and i’d walk past like “sorry can’t get involved”

you very realistic

mingyu very french

you pause at the edge of a crosswalk, watching the way the light turns everything peach and soft.

you every corner here feels like it has backstory

mingyu i walked past a florist this morning and got emotional

you was it the flowers

mingyu the font on the sign

you powerful

mingyu might write a song about it

you can’t wait for “bouquet in d minor”

you keep walking, grinning into your coffee, phone still in hand.

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

you have dinner plans that night but cancel.

you stay in instead. order room service. eat fries from a silver tray while sitting cross-legged on the bed in the hotel robe. on tv, a french reality show plays with no subtitles. you make up the plot as you go.

your phone lights up again around ten-thirty.

mingyu is it lame if i say tonight’s the first time i’ve actually rested all week

you extremely but also same

mingyu i feel like i’ve been smiling for cameras since tuesday

you i forgot how to blink correctly in photos pretty sure i look mildly haunted in half of them

mingyu new aesthetic unlocked

you what about you how’s your night off

mingyu very quiet i’m pretending i’m in an artsy indie movie nothing happens but the music is good

you mine’s more “girl orders crème brûlée at midnight and judges everyone on tv without knowing the language”

mingyu: i’d watch that

you: it’s a limited series moody lighting no plot

mingyu i play your mysterious neighbor with three lines

you you play the guy at the bakery who always gets the last croissant before me

mingyu oh no i’m the villain

you obviously

the next morning, you get a message from someone on the dior team. there’s a private dinner that night. low-key, mostly creatives, no press. they say you don’t have to go, but they’d love to have you there. you say yes. mostly because you’re curious. maybe also because you wonder if he’ll be there.

you don’t ask.

you show up in a long dark dress and a tired smile. the room is warm, lit low, buzzing softly. the kind of gathering where you don’t have to be anything other than yourself.

he’s already there.

you spot him across the room, leaning against a marble fireplace, listening quietly. his jacket fits perfectly. he looks like he belongs here, but like he’d rather be somewhere else.

you think he sees you at the same time you see him. he gives a small nod.

you return it.

you don’t talk during dinner. you’re seated apart, close but not close enough to chat easily. he laughs once at something someone says, and you smile without meaning to.

after dessert, people drift toward the windows, champagne flutes in hand. the city lights glow softly below.

you stand near a window, watching the blur of lights over the seine. he walks over, close enough to speak quietly.

“still holding your champagne suspiciously?” he jokes.

you glance at your glass. “yeah, it feels important. like a tiny glass trophy.”

“paris does that to everything.”

“even small talk,” you say, smirking.

he laughs. “this view makes everything feel staged, like we’re extras in a film.”

“the city’s the real star.”

“exactly.”

a pause.

“people still can’t stop spinning stories about us.”

you laugh softly. “maybe we should take a picture together. just to make things more interesting.”

he grins. “caption it ‘just met’ or something mysterious.”

“‘totally random encounter,’” you add, smiling.

“internet loses it instantly.”

“and then fifty new theories start.”

“guess we’re good at this.”

you both look out over the city, quiet between you.

“you’re easier to talk to than most here,” he says.

you glance at him. “is that a compliment?”

“just an honest observation.”

“i’ll take it.”

you share a small smile.

after a moment, you quietly say goodbye and slip out, the city’s soft hum following you.

when you get back to the hotel, there’s a message.

mingyu you disappeared like a spy no dramatic storm-off or slow-motion slap. i’m disappointed

you the lighting wasn’t right i’ll save it for the sequel

mingyu you looked nice tonight not saying that to be weird just. you did

you thank you you too

mingyu safe to say we survived paris?

you not over yet but yeah mostly intact

mingyu mostly

you don’t know what to call this.

not a crush. not a friendship. not really anything you need to label. just this... quiet, mutual thing. something that makes a strange city feel less distant. something that doesn’t ask for more than it gives.

on your last night in paris, you stay up late with the window cracked open.

the sounds of the street rise and fall, soft voices, a motorbike passing, the clink of a bottle in the distance. you sit on the bed with your legs pulled to your chest, phone in hand, but no new messages.

you open your notes app and type without thinking:

things i want to remember:

the bakery smell at 8:10am

the girl who hugged me near the river

the music in the car on the way to the dinner

the way no one rushed anything

the quiet

how he said i was easy to talk to

how i felt okay

you leave it there.

you close the app.

you sleep lightly.

in the morning, just before your car arrives to take you to the airport, your phone buzzes one last time.

mingyu i’m thinking of posting that pic of us. don’t forget to keep the mystery alive when you get back.

you smile.

you always you too

mingyu safe flight talk soon?

a pause.

you yeah. talk soon.

you don’t know what’s going to happen.

but you’re not waiting for it.

you’re just letting it be.

whatever it is.

and it started here.

in paris.

[33lol]

Experiment - Part 2

Pazzi (paige x azzi)

SMUT

warnings: some plot at the beginning, fluff, complete filth after, spitting, choking, biting, oral/strap sucking, slapping (tits, ass, pussy), strap usage, degradation, sex toys, squirting, being tied down and blindfolded, use of whip, handcuffs and restraints

MDNI

wc: 4.6k

Paige and Azzi woke up the next morning tangled in the sheets of Paige’s bed. Azzi’s face was tucked into Paige’s neck with her lips pressed against it. Paige had her hand across Azzi’s stomach, cradling her like she would somehow disappear.

The morning light began to peek through the blinds, stirring Azzi first, “Mmm so bright.” She scooted even further into Paige. Paige squeezed her hip tighter but couldn’t fall back into a peaceful sleep. She shifted slightly, grabbing her phone from the night stand, not moving too far from the girl next to her.

It was around 9:30 on Saturday, meaning they had nowhere to be. Practice was canceled, they didn’t have classes, and their teammates texted early in the group chat that some of them would be visiting home for the weekend.

Leaving Azzi and Paige having the whole dorm to themselves—just how they liked it. Paige took her hand and cradled Azzi’s face, running slow circles with her thumb across her cheek. “Baby wake up.”

Hearing “baby” coming from Paige’s mouth after the night they just had together immediately brought a crooked smile to Azzi’s face. “I like that word.”

Paige let out a soft giggle, “You are my baby. Especially now. Which is also what I wanna talk to you about.”

Azzi looked up at this curiously. “What baby?”

“I wanna take you out. I know we did things kind of out of order, which I don’t regret at all, but I still wanna make sure I do the rest right. So, I wanna take you out for real.”

Azzi looked at her, brown doe eyes meeting ocean blue ones—full of admiration and love. “Ok,” she said blushing. “That sounds nice.”

Paige smiled back at her. “I wanna do it as a day date today so we can have the evening to ourselves,” she said, smirking with a raised eyebrow.

Azzi blushed and hid her face with her hand. “Paige!”

“What!?” Paige said with a bright toothy grin feigning innocence. “I want today to be special. I’m going to make it special. Because you are special and you deserve it.”

“I love you P,” Azzi said softly looking up at her.

“And I love you.”

—————

When it hit around noon, Paige told Azzi to start getting ready. Paige picked their outfits, wanting them to coordinate. Azzi wore a light blue tank top with baggy black jeans—riding low on her waist showing off her belly button piercing that Paige was obsessed with—along with clean air forces. Paige wore a white cropped tank top with a black denim jacket over it and jorts. They also happened to be wearing each other’s favorite hairstyles—Paige with her slick back bun and Azzi having her goddess braids done.

Once they were ready, they walked to the car where Paige opened the door for Azzi. They got in the car and didn’t say much for a while, just marinating in each other’s company and vibing to some R&B. At some point into the drive, Azzi grew curious of what Paige had planned.

“So where are you taking me?” she asked looking over at Paige.

Paige answered, knowing Azzi didn’t like surprises because they made her anxious, “It’s a new restaurant about 20 minutes away. It’s supposed to be a nice outdoor spot with a pretty lookout view.”

Azzi smiled at Paige’s thoughtfulness of planning a fun date for them. She reached over for Paige’s hand and placed it on her thigh, resting hers on top. Paige kept her eyes on the road, but couldn’t hide the smile that bloomed on her face.

They got to the restaurant and were seated quickly, Paige having requested a table outside. It was nice enough outside that the sun was out but not beating down, and there was a breeze. At one point Paige saw Azzi shiver and gave her her jacket. Azzi didn’t protest, just smiled shyly and dipped her head.

Paige ordered for both of them—Azzi being extremely indecisive, Paige had done this for a while now. Azzi had a lemon chicken salad and Paige had chicken tenders with fries.

“You’re such a child,” Azzi laughed at her.

“I will change for no one,” Paige shot back with her lip quirked.

“Don’t. I love you as you are.”

Paige blushed and gave Azzi the smile that made her cheekbones pop. She got up from her seat and led Azzi to the lookout spot. They stood there looking at the view for a minute, but Paige was looking at Azzi more than she was the hills. She turned Azzi toward her and held her hips.

“I wanna ask you something ma”

Azzi looked slightly up at her, “Anything baby.”

Paige smirked, “Will you be my girlfriend?”

Azzi’s face lit up and she jumped on Paige. Paige was taken aback but spun them around a few times and set her back down. “So is that a yes?”

“Yes Bighead!” Azzi beamed.

Later, when they were done and in the car again, Paige started driving in the opposite direction of their dorm.

“Are we going somewhere else?” Azzi asked her while looking out the window.

Paige smirked and turned her head toward Azzi, “I have one more stop on the list before we head back.”

They pulled up a couple minutes later to a building that was vaguely advertised and neutral in color called “Love Loud.” A sex shop.

“Where are we?” Azzi asked as Paige held the car door open for her.

Paige didn’t say anything and just guided her inside while holding the door.

When they walked in, Azzi's face lit up in shock. She turned to Paige who was just smiling and licking her lips. A worker greeted them and told them if they needed anything to ask her.

Paige leaned in Azzi’s ear, “Thought we could get some tools to help us out,” she said winking.

“Oh my god,” Azzi said giggling. Azzi pulled Paige’s hand and led them to a wall with different strap options. Paige pointed at a few different ones, but they ended up landing on one that had two different dildo inserts—one smaller and one larger, both being purple of course. It also had the option of an insert or vibrator for the person wearing it.

Azzi started looking around subtly. Paige noticed, “You wanna keep lookin around mama?”

Azzi just nodded while blushing.

“Ok, c’mon. If you see something, just point it out. I’m open to anything. And I mean that.”

Azzi held Paige’s hand, “Okay P. Same here.”

They made their way to a section toward the back of the store. They stood there frozen in place for a second just staring. Then Azzi looked at Paige with those eyes—ones she could never say no to.

“Pick what you want baby. I’m good with anything.”

They were in front of several whips, chains, and BDSM items. Azzi looked over the wall, thinking about what Paige mentioned the night before. She grabbed a small whip with cut leather strips coming off of it, as well as an adjustable bar to spread legs at different levels. She also picked out two pairs of handcuffs and a vibrator that went on the clit and inside. Paige saw a blindfold out of the corner of her eye that she got as well.

They checked out, eager to get back home. When they were in the car, they didn’t say much to fill the silence. They held hands and Paige kissed Azzi’s hand, holding her lips there for a beat. Azzi tilted her body and leaned slightly across the glove box. They let the gravity of the moment overtake the silence in the car and the trust between them simmer, thinking about what was to come that night.

When they arrived back at the dorm, they walked inside hand in hand. They set the stuff by the door for now and went to their room to change into comfier clothes. It was only the afternoon, so they put on a movie that neither of them were entirely watching.

Paige had Azzi in her lap, rubbing her thighs. She looked at Azzi, “Hey baby,” Azzi turned her head. “I just want to check in and see where your head is at.. y’know.. about later.”

Azzi smiled softly at her while stroking her hair, “I’m sure about it. All of it. I want you to enjoy yourself like you want me to. If there’s ever something you don’t like or feels uncomfortable, you tell me. No questions asked. You never owe me a reason for stopping either.”

Paige brushed her knuckles along her jaw, “And I want you to feel good with whatever we do. I want you to feel loved.. even if it’s not always slow and sensual. You have just as much say in this as I do.”

Azzi nodded and leaned forward to kiss Paige—intertwining their lips together, slow and deliberate. They took their time getting to know each other’s lips while rubbing along each other’s arms and legs. They didn’t watch any more of the movie. Just sat there on the couch, tasting each other.

At some point when the credits were rolling, Azzi’s stomach grumbled. Paige broke away from her and furrowed her brows at the curly haired girl, “You hungry mama?”

Azzi nodded, “Yeah kinda”

“Let’s DoorDash something then,” Paige said while pulling out her phone and handing it to Azzi. “You pick since I chose lunch.”

Azzi scrolled for what felt like eternity, but Paige never rushed her. Just watched the girl on her lap who she loved beyond words and hummed when Azzi wanted an opinion. Azzi had her eyebrows knitted in concentration and was biting one of her fingernails. She finally landed on Noodles and Company and Paige set the order. It was these intimate moments that they cherished the most.

The food arrived a bit later and the two ate like they were starved for three months. They didn’t say much, just talked about practice next week and their upcoming finals.

After they finished up they went to the kitchen and threw away their trash.

“Should we clean them first?” Paige asked, referring to their new purchases.

“Definitely.”

They cleaned them together in the sink, making sure they were ready to be used. Azzi leaned up and gave Paige a peck on the cheek. Paige bumped Azzi with her hip in retaliation.

Once they were done, they took the items to their room. When they walked in, the energy shifted to something heavier It was thick with anticipation—both of nerves and excitement. Paige pulled Azzi in by the waist and looked over her face before connecting their lips. They pulled apart and Paige locked eyes with Azzi’s brown ones,

“Safe word is red. No explanation needed. Just comfort and safety after.”

Azzi nodded with a softness in her eyes, appreciating every thought that ran through Paige’s head—coming from nowhere but a place of genuine love.

She let her hands roam lower until they got to Azzi’s ass. She squeezed hard, eliciting a soft whimper against her mouth. Paige dipped down and wrapped her hands around Azzi’s thighs, picking her up without her even having to jump. Paige was kissing her neck and ear simultaneously, which turned Azzi on fast. Paige walked them over to the bed and laid Azzi down. Paige got close to her ear, “How you want it mama?”

Azzi was somewhat breathless, “I want it rough. Just..still go slow at first please.”

Paige nodded immediately and kissed her neck. “I got you baby. Just relax and feel, ok?”

Azzi sighed at her voice in that low tone and the sensation of her tongue tracing her ear. Paige took her hands and started pulling at Azzi’s nipples through her shirt. Azzi arched into Paige at this and let out a soft moan. Paige slowly lifted the shirt over Azzi’s head, inch by inch, revealing her further. Paige leaned down and gave kitten licks to one nipple while pinching at the other one. The mix of pain and pleasure was overwhelming in the best way for her. Paige let her hands roam lower and grab the waist band of Azzi’s boxers, sliding them down Azzi’s glistening legs.

“Stay there. Don’t move.”

Azzi watched Paige cross the room and rummage through the new toys. When she saw Paige grab the strap, her breath hitched. Paige stood at the foot of the bed and stripped herself of her own clothes, watching Azzi try not to squirm too much. Paige slipped on the harness and slid in one of the dildo choices, as well as the vibrator for herself. Being mindful that this was still each of their second times having sex and first with a strap, Paige picked the smaller one for now. While looking Azzi in the eye, Paige turned on the vibrator and started stroking the strap. She climbed on the bed and sat against the headboard.

“Come here,” Paige said while patting the spot in front of her.

Azzi got up and knelt in front of Paige on her knees. Paige reached forward and grabbed Azzi by the back of her neck, “Be a good girl for me and get daddy wet, yeah?”

Azzi didn’t have much time to nod before Paige was shoving her face down. Azzi closed her mouth around the strap, leaving it wet with her spit as she bobbed her head up and down.

“Such a slut. Getting daddy all wet like it’s your job” Paige groaned out.

As Azzi’s answer, she swirled her tongue around the tip and spit on it. She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue. Paige slapped the dildo on it, along with her cheeks. Paige shoved her head back down while a whimper slipped from her lips, “Fuck baby.”

Azzi looked up at her while sucking it and Paige rolled her eyes while throwing her head back. The vibrator on her clit made seeing Azzi gag on the dildo feel real. Paige thrusted her hips up into Azzi’s mouth while pushing her head down at the same time—allowing her to take all 6 inches in her throat. Azzi gagged and Paige released her head, letting her ease up. When Azzi pulled off, a string of saliva came with her. Azzi flashed Paige a devilish smile when she looked up at her with dark eyes.

“Good girl,” Paige praised.

Paige sat up more and moved toward Azzi who was sitting back kneeling on her knees. She grabbed her head and kissed her aggressively.

“Too much?” Paige asked out of reassurance.

“Just enough,” Azzi said smiling.

Paige smirked and lowered her hands to Azzi’s neck, “Now you’re gonna take what daddy gives you from behind.”

Azzi’s breath caught and she could feel her slick dripping down her thighs. Paige shoved her down on her stomach and leaned over her back, “Ass up, face down,” she said in a rough voice.

Azzi obeyed, keeping her face in the sheets and arching up until Paige rewarded her with a harsh slap on the ass. “Mmph—” Azzi moaned out. That got her another slap to the other side—reminding Paige they bought a whip earlier. “Stay here baby.”

Paige grabbed the whip and got behind Azzi again. Paige started running the tip through Azzi’s folds, wetting every part of her cunt with her slick. When Paige went over Azzi’s clit, Azzi jolted forward. Paige smacked the whip against her ass and reached around her stomach, pulling her back up.

“Don’t run from daddy. You can take it. I got you.”

Azzi resumed her arch and Paige smacked the whip again. “Mmm this pussy so wet and this ass so big for me.”

“All for you daddy,” Azzi said in a breathy tone.

Paige then slid the tip into Azzi’s cunt, letting it sit there for a second—knowing Azzi had never felt this stretch before.

“Ahh—fuck—oh my god P”

Paige rubbed her hand over Azzi’s ass and then squeezed her hip, “I know baby, I got you. Want you to feel good on daddy’s dick.”

Azzi nodded, letting Paige know she was okay to keep going. Paige slid in further, slow, letting Azzi feel each inch and every vein on the dildo. Once she was in all the way, she paused for another second to let Azzi adjust. Azzi moved her hips back when she was ready and Paige hit her with the whip again.

“This pussy already so good for me”

Paige pulled out so just the tip was in and pushed in again, setting a slow but firm rhythm. Azzi was groaning into the sheets from the stretch. Paige watched where they met with her mouth hanging open. The vibrator still pressing enough on Paige’s clit to keep her on the edge. Paige smacked her ass and started to speed up her thrusts. The sound coming from between them was loud, filthy, and messy. The sound made Azzi wetter by the second and easier for Paige to slide in and out.

Paige kept up her pace while reaching around to Azzi’s throat and pulled her up slightly. She squeezed her throat and then turned Azzi’s face so she could press a sloppy, rushed kiss to her lips. She let go and moved her hand down Azzi’s side and then to her clit. Azzi let her face fall back into the sheets as Paige gave no mercy to the pressure and force she put on Azzi’s bud. She rubbed fast and hard circles while thrusting aggressively into Azzi from the back.

“C’mon mommy. You’re so beautiful like this. You like being my slut? I love this view—fuck”

These jumbled words slipping from Paige’s mouth had Azzi right on the cusp of climaxing and spilling all over Paige’s strap. Paige was overstimulated from her vibrator, but in the best way—seeing Azzi in this position did something to her, and had her so close to finishing.

“Daddy—I’m gon—fuck I’m gonna cum”

“Me too baby. Cum for me. Wanna feel all of you. Give it to me.”

It took one more hard thrust before Azzi gushed all over the strap and Paige came at the sight below her and also from the vibrations hitting her clit just right. Paige clicked off the vibrator quickly, but stayed still in Azzi for a little longer—not wanting to pull out too suddenly.

Azzi let out a long sigh.

“Am I good to pull out ma?”

Azzi barely nodded into the sheets and Paige slipped out slowly. Azzi gasped at the emptiness and let her body fall forward fully onto the bed. Paige took the harness off and set it a few feet away from them on the bed. She peppered kisses along the backside of Azzi—from the backs of her thighs, then on her butt, and finally trailing up her spine and onto her neck. She laid next to Azzi and rubbed her back, waiting for the younger girl to come back from her high.

“You good ma? Was I okay?” Paige asked out of curiosity for herself and wanting to make sure Azzi enjoyed it.

Azzi turned her head to her and smiled softly, “I’m so good baby. That was perfect. You were perfect.”

Paige brushed a braid out of her face and kissed her forehead. Azzi smiled and lifted up so she could straddle Paige. Paige rested her hands on Azzi’s hips and looked up at her curious as to what she planned on doing. Azzi pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and started rolling her hips while pinning Paige’s hands above her head. Azzi let her lip go and ran her tongue over it, then leaned by Paige’s ear, “Mine turn daddy.”

Paige sighed and tried to rut her hips up to gain some friction, but Azzi was quick to nip at Paige’s neck, signaling her to be still. Azzi trailed her warm breath over the spot and pecked it with her lips. She moved so their foreheads were almost touching and their eyes locked.

“What do you want P?” Azzi asked while still grinding down at a slow pace.

Paige was breathing heavily at this point and couldn’t get much out, “You. Hard—please”

Azzi smirked, liking how fucked out she had Paige right now and she’d barely even touched her. “Mmm.. I got a few ideas in mind then.”

Azzi climbed off of Paige and instinctively moved her hands back down to her sides, but that was not what Azzi wanted. “Uh uh—hands stay up. I’ll be right back.”

Azzi grabbed the pairs of handcuffs and the adjustable bar to spread her legs, as well as the blindfold. Azzi climbed back on the bed and laid the stuff by Paige. She leaned down by Paige’s ear and whispered, “So fucking good for mommy.”

Paige whimpered and licked her bottom lip. Azzi leaned back and grabbed the handcuffs. She took Paige’s left hand and cuffed it to the left side of the headboard, then did the same for the right side.

In a low but sincere voice, Azzi said, “You say the word and we stop.”

Paige nodded but knew she wouldn’t be using that safe word any time soon.

Azzi grabbed the adjustable bar and moved down to Paige’s ankles. She cuffed them in, and spread the bar as far as it could go. Azzi leaned back, taking in Paige spread out for her. Paige had never even really thought she would be one to give up control so easily, but with Azzi it was natural. Not even a question. She felt safe and appreciated—just like she tried to do for Azzi.

“Damn baby,” she crawled next to Paige and leaned by her ear again, “You’re about to get fucked up.”

Paige whined—like actually whined and then squeezed her eyes shut. Azzi moved one of her hands to Paige’s neck and squeezed just enough for Paige to let out another moan. Azzi reached for the blindfold and kissed Paige’s lips before slipping it over her eyes. Paige was completely exposed—bare to Azzi, and emotionally submissive. Azzi took the strap from next to Paige and got in the harness, changing out the vibrator for the insert on herself. It was still soaked with her cum from earlier—giving Azzi an idea. She straddled Paige’s chest, took two fingers and hooked them in Paige’s mouth. Paige opened wide with her tongue out. Azzi let a long string of spit drop from her mouth into Paige’s.

She swallowed then opened her mouth again. Azzi smiled, “You want more? So greedy.”

Paige was unaware of the strap being in her face—until Azzi let the weight of the tip hit Paige’s tongue. Paige moaned from the suddenness and the sweet taste of Azzi on it. She moved her tongue around it, licking it up. Then Azzi pressed it further in so Paige could start taking it. Azzi pushed in deep, making Paige choke—gurgling some spit on the corner of her mouth.

Azzi pulled back slightly, running her hand through Paige’s hair. “So good baby.”

Paige knew she was fucked. Azzi having all the power over her was either her greatest dream or her worst nightmare. (We all know which one it is) Azzi stayed straddled, but shifted lower, in between Paige’s legs. Paige knew what was to come and was so eager that she lifted her hips trying to get closer to Azzi. Obviously that didn’t work because of her legs being spread four feet wide and her hands being cuffed above her.

Azzi giggled at her out of pity, then slapped one of her tits as a punishment. “Use your words like a big girl.”

Paige just whined, getting another slap, harder on her other tit. She arched at the sensation, but still couldn’t get any words out. She pinched Paige’s nipples—making her let out a low, guttural sound. Azzi finally started running the tip through her folds, wetting her cunt with a mix of their arousals. Paige sucked in a breath when Azzi went over her clit—still being partially sensitive, but she also liked the overstimulation.

Before Azzi went any further, she reached down and slapped Paige’s pussy. The more she tried different things, the more she realized that Paige liked pain.

Azzi could practically see her cunt pulsing and ready for her. She lined the tip up with her cunt and pushed in—inch by inch, letting her adjust to the length and girth. Paige moaned high and breathy,

“Fuuuckk—mommy! So good”

Azzi was in all the way now and started moving slowly—in and out, watching herself meet Paige. Azzi could also feel everything, having an insert inside herself. Each thrust sent a new spark through her. It really was like she could feel herself inside Paige. Azzi leaned down, still moving, and started biting at Paige’s neck and jaw. She began to thrust a little faster and kissed right below her ear. Paige’s mouth was hung open—in awe of how good it felt to be split open so intensely.

Azzi hovered over Paige’s chest and spit on her tits, then pumped in and out of her pussy harder.

“Take it like a good slut. Can’t get enough of you,” Azzi growled.

Paige was a moaning mess. Hair stuck to her forehead with sweat, face flushed, nails digging into her palms, toes curled—yet enjoying every second of it. Azzi was already building up her climax again—making her pound Paige’s pussy at an unfathomable speed now. Azzi used her thumb to start circling Paige’s clit. She applied just enough pressure to have Paige arching her back far off the bed. Azzi doubled down at this, wanting to get off as well.

She continued her attack on Paige’s clit while using her other hand to squeeze Paige's throat—enough to hold her weight, but not enough to actually hurt her.

Paige was overwhelmed by the many stimulations. It only took a couple more thrusts before Azzi came all over the harness and felt a loud gush of liquid come from below her. She looked down, slowing her rhythm, “Holy fuck baby. That was hot as shit!”

Paige squirted all over the dildo and Azzi’s thighs. Paige couldn’t even be embarrassed because it felt so incredible—the blindfold also helped mask the flush of redness creeping on her face.

Azzi pulled out slow, and undid the harness. She threw it to the floor, not caring where it ended up, and kissed Paige’s stomach. She crawled up to Paige’s face and reached for the blindfold, peeling it off. Paige could barely open her eyes, but when she did, she saw Azzi beaming at her.

“You did so good P”

Paige gave the faintest smile, but enough to show Azzi she was immensely satisfied. Azzi got the keys to the handcuffs and unlocked them. Paige’s arms fell free and she immediately moved them to Azzi’s face, pulling her in for a kiss. It was a deep kiss, but not rushed. Filled with every word they weren’t able to say just yet.

Azzi pulled away barely, “Lemme undo your feet baby.” Paige hummed and let her eyes fall closed. Azzi moved down, undoing Paige’s ankles from the restraints and pushing that away too. Azzi rubbed up and down Paige’s thighs for a minute, then crawled up to lay by her. Azzi started to pull the covers over them, then realized she should probably clean themselves up. But before she could even get out of the bed, Paige pulled her back down.

“Later,” she said with a tired, raspy voice.

Azzi obliged and scooted right back where she belonged—curled into Paige’s side. She pulled the blankets over them and threw any other toys off the bed. She laid her head in the crook of Paige’s neck and whispered, “How was that baby?”

Paige didn’t move, but smiled with a stupid grin, “Fuckin perfect mommy.”

Azzi giggled and pinched Paige’s side playfully, then kissed her neck. The two fell asleep, sore and tired, but nevertheless connected by something deeper than just love.

[binmeister]

Hello my friend! I have a good funny story request idea that you may like to do! Well I wanted to see you could do a headcanon/ story on the Saja Boys Au x female!reader where they had a small argument with each other then the reader screams out how there aren’t very funny or loving because there either too serious, sad, rude, airhead or nice which shocks the Saja Boys. Then they decide to play a prank on the reader to prove them wrong ( it can be any type of prank from making them food with something their allergic to plus funny ingredients, trying to scare them, flirt with someone, dress up in something silly, pretending to have amnesia and etc). But when their prank is over instead of getting a laugh or apologize; the reader would either get hurt/hospitalized (physically or emotionally), angry, cry, annoyed and even threaten to leave them ( is also joking as well) which causes them to feel guilty, like a jerk or beg for forgiveness?!!~ (It’s up to you whether or not they forgive them or not!)🤭😅❤️‍🔥😈✨

Pranks gone wrong and some misunderstandings

Saja boys x Reader (Separate)

Thank you for the prompt! I’m not doing anything that severely harms the reader or hurts them because I personally hate ‘pranks’ that go too far like that, but I tried to keep things in that kind of tone where the guys have redemption because they do mean well - may have strayed a lot from the prompt but I hope these are okay 😅

CW: Established relationships, mentions of crying in some prompts, includes the coriander / cilantro soap gene in Mystery’s prompt but you can swap that out for a different gene - mostly gender neutral but for any mentions of she/her you’re welcome to swap it out with preferred pronoun

Not proof read! Sorry for mistakes a lot of word vomit.

Jinu

Jinu was funny, a bit of a quirky and dorky kinda guy but he could be funny when he wanted to be and he liked to think it was something he could be proud of

His singing talent? A little iffy after everything that happened but his humour that he found again while hanging out with you? Yeah. He’s a funny guy

But the insecurities leaked out when both Abs & Romance said that he was kinda unfunny, you teased him with the duo in agreement and normally he can brush it off - roll his eyes and say ‘uh huh, totally’ because he knows you find him funny - its just this time it clung to him and made him self conscious on if you really did find him funny or not or if you just found him funny in the ‘you’re my boyfriend, of course i think you’re funny’

Was he too plain? Did he seem too stiff or was he acting too nice or something? It lead him to message Rumi to ask her if she thought he was funny and obviously - she thought he wasn’t because why would she think he’s funny? She thinks he’s an annoying little brat and he asks her for ideas to make you laugh

Platonic RuJinu for this! misunderstandings are so goofy sometimes

Jinu huffed, eyebrows furrowed as he responded back to Rumi with a little too much venom in his words as he tried to ask her for her honest opinion and didn’t particularly like her answer. Of course he’s funny! You were seated to the left of him on the couch as he continued furiously tapping away, his focus solely on his phone and you felt a twinge of jealousy. Who got him so worked up? He paused and then laughed a little at something Rumi had sent and visibly eased up. That isn’t what you want to see. He’s now laughing and smiling at his phone while you’re literally right next to him. You tried to peer over his shoulder and Jinu had instinctively shifted away, spooked by your sudden appearance and that set alarm bells of in your head.

Now he’s hiding his phone from you? You looked up at him and he saw the flash of hurt and panic in your eyes and he was confused at first, what’s the issue? Then he realised he had shifted away from you while you were trying to look at his phone, something that was normal between you two as you normally scrolled through each other’s feeds to see what memes or goofy clips you could laugh at together. Before you could stand up and walk away from him he grabbed your wrist, pulling you back down onto the couch beside him and shifted to hold your waist so you couldn’t get away despite your attempt to wriggle out of his grasp.

“Woah hey, hey let me explain-” He started out as you elbowed his side in your attempt to escape, he let out a grunt before pulling you even tighter into him. “Rude! You’re stuck in jail now missy.” He huffed out as he pulled you flush against his chest and onto his lap now, glaring at you slightly for the unnecessary blow you dealt him in.

“No it’s fine you can keep texting your girlfriend.” You grumbled out as you tried again to wriggle away and he rolled his eyes, unlocking his phone on the spot and holding it directly where your line of vision was so you could read the text chain for yourself. He was not going to let you walk away all annoyed and mad at him over a misunderstanding.

 J: I’m funny right?

 R: As funny as a pre-schooler

 J: ...rude.  R: But it’s true (˶ᐢ ᵕ ᐢ˶)

 R: Why’re you bothering me  J: I wanna make [Name] laugh  R: Your face probably already does that enough (˶ᐢ ᵕ ᐢ˶)♡

 J: That’d be yours.

 R: She probably thinks you’re funny enough as is, she’s literally your girlfriend?

 R: Idk why though... you’re so blegh

 J: She thinks I’m great.

 R: Suuuuuuure buddy

 R: She could do so much better

 R: Tell her when she’s sick of you I’ll be there for her (˶ᐢ ᵕ ᐢ˶)♡♡

 J: ?????

You couldn’t help the snort that escaped you as you tried not to laugh at Rumi’s blatant insults and jabbing at Jinu, understanding now why Jinu had laughed - rather than out of joy it was out of annoyance cause woooow she totally got him good. He rolled his eyes at you as you calmed down finally, relaxing into his hold as you both watched Rumi’s chat bubble typing away.

 R: [Name] if you’re reading this - I’ll treat you better than he ever could! I know your shoe size unlike this guy ♡

You burst into a fit of laughter at that, she had you there because it was true. Jinu struggled to remember all the different measurements of the people around him - having to keep track of his own as well as the boys; you didn’t expect him to know your measurements even remotely but he’s done a pretty decent job without the exact details.

 J (Name): I might take you up on that offer pookie ♡ - [N]

 R: I KNEW YOU LOVED ME MORE !

“Woooow.” You heard Jinu say he watched your tiny exchange with Rumi, offended that you would pick her over him. He’s literally your boyfriend! He eased up into the couch and let his hold on you loosen up as you looked up at him innocently, both of you letting your burst of jealousy pass now that it was cleared up that it was definitely a misunderstanding. 

“I love you..?” You said, cheeky smile on your face as you said it in a more playful manner than intended as he stared at you blankly before he leant in and pecked your forehead. “...love you too.”

Abs / Abby

He’s goofy, laughs at his own jokes a little too hard but there’s something infectious about his laugh that just makes you start laughing too

Sometimes jokes go over his head but when you explain them to him, he gets it and starts laughing so hard it sounds like he might throw up

He didn’t really care for pranks, he didn’t see why people were so adamant it’s funny to make your partner cry or get upset cause yeah you’re kinda cute when you get annoyed at him but what if he made you cry? He’d feel so bad if he did that

Then there was a day the group was hanging out, you were lounged with him and tucked snuggly into his side as you drew patterns into his side and he occasionally let out a chuckle at the ticklish sensation when he heard Baby call out

“Dude.. did you know you’re kinda a meat head?” He was nonchalant as he randomly insulted Abby and you protested at the rude comment, rejecting the connotation and it made Abby think for a bit

...was he really that stupid? Did everyone think he was dumb? ...did you think he was dumb too? He’s not outwardly the smartest guy ever but he likes to think he was witty and sharp enough that it wasn’t a concern, it’s just sometimes tone in conversations fall flat on his ears - sarcasm is hard to read !

Which lead to this moment, Abby had a pair of fake glasses on as he stood at the kitchen counter across from you and was currently explaining- no. Mansplaining to you about why men were strong and all this bullshit about being a true Alpha and all that garbage. Whatever he dug up on twitter was grating your nerves and you were about to strangle him out if he continued on any longer - it’s been an hour and a half! How can he still blabber on about something he’s never shown interest in before.

“Abby.” You finally shut him up, he froze at your tone and it dawned on him how frustrated you actually are. Despite his size it looked like he shrunk in on himself, as he quietened down to hear what you had to say and his train of his thought was completely caught off - those Alpha podcasts said that this was what human women were into! He swears! He heard them say it.

“I love you dearly,” You began and he smiled a little at that and almost straightened back up until you continued on, “If you say one more word, in regards to whatever the hell this is that you’re spouting at me. We are done.“

His expression froze as he stared at you with wide eyes - was this a break up? Are you breaking up with him because he tried to become smart? Or did he search up all the wrong things and fumble everything. He was panicking and it showed as he instinctively reached across the counter to grab you hands as he fumbled with his words to explain himself, he didn’t actually mean the words he was saying honestly he didn’t even know what half of the stuff being said on the podcast meant and the guy sounded so confident so Abby earnestly thought that it had to be legit! He’s a demon who isn’t used to modern day women and societal norms so the internet was his only option to get information truly.

“I didn’t- I mean I don’t really.. y’know I.” He was tripping over himself, too many thoughts in his head at once and all from his own panic as he tried to rationalise how to explain to you that this wasn’t actually what he thought it was just something he assumed you might like. “I thought you’d like me better if I said stuff like this.. cause I’m a meat head...”

His last few words were a little softer as he admitted what caused him to go on this tirade and you felt bad for him, it wasn’t really his fault that he didn’t understand why those talking points were blatantly disrespectful and you knew for a fact that he could never fathom actually believing in that kind of thing. If he thought anyone was better than anyone else, it’d be from his self confidence in knowing he’s got a great physique and athletic capabilities but he’s always been willing to admit when he couldn’t do something or felt like he wasn’t enough.

“Hey.. I know you don’t think those things and you’re not a meat head.” You shifted your hands to rest on top of his and you could see him visibly relax at that, cheeks dusting a light pink and glowing a little from how dumb and embarrassed he felt right now that he just wasted an hour of your time. “Where’d you even come across this stuff anyway?”

He paused. The one that had sent him this information had walked into the kitchen and was absentmindedly raiding for the fridge for any spicy goodies or any snacks he could steal. You caught the way Abby’s eyes glanced at Baby and you had to stop yourself from body slamming the smaller man.

“Baby.” He turned to look at you, normally bored and smug expression frozen in a mildly alert and panicked one. “We need to talk about something.”

Let’s just say that he hadn’t insulted Abby in a few weeks and was a lot more careful with what he let slip out.

Mystery

A quiet guy, he could take a joke mostly but occasionally would lash out if pushed too far

It was an off-handed comment that didn’t mean much but you had mentioned that you were glad he was calm and easier to handle than the goofier guys - it wasn’t mean to insinuate he wasn’t funny but he took it as an insult unknowingly stewing on it as he thought over ways to ‘prank’ you

Baby and Romance mentioned there were these ‘prank channels’ on youtube and he had watched a couple, the couples in the video always seemed to scream at eachother and then laugh it off so he though the could pull it off as well - bookmarked a video and then proceeded to duplicate the steps in that video

Yeah he can prove he’s goofy and spontaneous !

But he didn’t really understand that the videos weren’t real and were usually staged

“Is this for me?” You questioned, a little awe in your voice as Mystery handed you a plate with a little puff in his chest like he was really proud of what he made for you. It was a simple noodle dish that you’d been craving for a while and this man was sweet enough to learn how to cook it for you... You smiled at him, not second-guessing any ulterior motives and that made him smirk a little. It’s just like the video he watched.

You picked up the fork he had given you and twirled a small rose of noodles onto it, about to lift it to your mouth and go to town when you got a whiff of something that you knew you couldn’t eat. Coriander. You looked up at him, puffing your cheeks out and were a little thrown off about how he decided to throw in coriander into a noodle dish that.. doesn’t require it. He looked a little upset at you for catching onto what he had done and huffed, frustrated that you didn’t necessarily fall for the prank and in turn you got upset at him - he knows you can’t eat it, the dumb gene you complain about frequently enough that makes the stuff taste like soap.

So why’d he do that?

Before you can question him on it he walks away, not wanting to talk to you because now you’ve ruined the prank and it won’t be funny anymore and you’re shocked. He’s upset at you? You huffed as you put away the plate in the fridge, letting it be a free for all for whichever guy came home and was hungry because you sure as hell couldn’t enjoy it with the insane amounts of coriander that had been ground into it. Cut small enough to look like literally any other herb but you knew that smell too well. Jerk.

After that you didn’t talk to each other, from minutes then lead to hours and then even extended to a few days where you weren’t talking at all. No messages. No late night calls. You didn’t even come over to hang out with the other boys because you were so frustrated that Mystery tampered with your food.. It was only this one thing this time but what if you had a more sever allergy? Would he overlook it for some twisted joke? Which only upset you more. Yeah you could’ve just eaten the meal and then told him to correct it for next time.. but you thought he listened and respected you. Did he not?

The overthinking didn’t stop, it got to a point where you were just holed up in your room - hoodie on as you curled into yourself and the tears finally started to come down. You were so annoyed at him, annoyed at yourself for not talking to him, just annoyed at everything. All that frustration over the last few days filled with over thinking and second guessing things made you emotional and you couldn’t stop the tears that kept on flowing. It wasn’t that big of a deal but on a grander scale it really was a big deal because if you can’t trust him with something small could you really trust him with something big?

Your doorbell chimed, you contemplated ignoring it and just crying your eyes out for a few more hours but you went against that thought. Sleeves rubbing your eyes and wiping off the tear stains on your cheeks as you got up and headed over to the door, not bothering to check who it could be because there were very few people who could turn up like this. And of course it was the one you secretly wanted to see the most.

Mystery stood there, his posture less confident than usual as his mouth opened and closed trying to formulate the sentences that he had been practicing at home with the other guys as they walked him through why it’s not a good idea to mess with somebody’s food. He couldn’t get a word out before you reached for him, arms lifted up and he obediently stepped into the foyer with you and wrapped his arms around you - head rested against yours as you sniffle and let the tears fall again.

“That wasn’t nice..” You mumbled into his shirt and he only nodded in response, he honestly expected worse but if you were this nice about it... maybe he could make up for it? He shut your front door behind him, attempting to waddle you both to your room so you could be more comfortable rather than standing in the foyer for whoever knows how long. Soon enough you were situated back on your bed, him sitting up resting against the headboard as he let you curl into his side - his fingers drawing small circles on your back as he let you decide if you wanted to be closer or not - which you opted to do. Shuffling closer and slowly wrapping an arm around his waist as you laid your head on his chest. It was quiet, peaceful like it usually is.

You dozed off, the fatigue from crying and being frustrated for days on end getting to you and the soothing sensation of him continuously drawing patterns on your back lulled you off into a comforting sleep but you caught what he said as you let sleep overcome you... it brought a small smile to your lips as you snuggled closer.

“I’m sorry for hurting you.”

Romance

He knew he was a charming guy, funny? Sometimes. But charming definitely

What he wasn’t expecting was for you to point it out one day while you were hanging out with the guys, Abs had pointed out that Romance was only good at flirting and you had jokingly agreed while laughing - but that joke rubbed him the wrong way

What do you mean you don’t find him funny? You think he’s handsome, charming, the best thing that’s ever happened to you but... you don’t think he’s funny? Hell no he needs to correct that!

All he does is flirt? Pft he can prove you all wrong!

He couldn’t. 

That was a sad pathetic pep talk to himself as he instinctively flirted with the fans that attended the Saja boys fan signing, though he may have been playing it up a bit too much as he was ogled openly by all types of fans that came along. He flirted with the women, the aunties that stopped by, the guys roughly around his age too - he was a simple man! More love to give than he could ever contain within himself. At least that was the persona he put on was.

After the event was over they had returned home and you had sent a text hoping it went well, but he thought it over and decided what he could do to get back at you and the other guys. He wasn’t flirty in his response, didn’t ask how your day was, none of that stuff that he learned from being online or from observing people when they first came to the human world after years of being in the demon realm. Just told you the event went well and that was it, dry.

You blinked at your phone when you saw the dry response from Romance, not particularly something you were used to. He usually had a specific way of texting and this was devoid of any emoticons, emojis, nothing. It made you feel a little uncomfortable and a little upset even. What’s his deal? That continued on for the next couple of hours, you tried to initiate your usual evening conversations and Romance continued to give you dry blunt responses in return. It felt like you were talking to a completely different guy and it started to make you nervous. Is the honey moon phase over? Is this what’s always going to happen now that you were comfortable? He’ll give you crumbs of attention and you just have to savour each piece?

You continued trying that night, trying to get him to talk to you like he usually did and even asking if he had enough energy to talk on the phone. All met with more rejection and more blunt or dry responses. It was like you were message a different Saja boy all together but you knew the other guys relatively well enough to know that they didn’t do that thing, it wasn’t in their books to mess with someone’s phone without saying anything. It was 1am by the time you gave up - each response from Romance had taken longer and longer to get back to you, like he was purposely putting his phone on do not disturb and then remembering half an hour to an hour later that he hadn’t responded. This wasn’t like him and it was genuinely starting to hurt.

You sent one last text - wishing him a goodnight and when you were left on read and no instant reply it made your heart sink. Staring at your ceiling you felt numb now. Your usually doting boyfriend was being so cold to you, you didn’t even care that he flirted with fans! It’s part of the gig and you knew what he did and what his words and actions actually meant when he truly meant what he said. So why was he switching up on you so suddenly? It hurt, it stung. It reminded you of the previous partners you’ve had and the dating horror stories friends had warned you about when their respective exes switched up on them one day and how pathetic it made them feel when they’d keep grovelling for attention. How pathetic it’s making you feel as you anxiously wait for Romance to respond. To say goodnight, tell you he loved you. Call you.

Something.

A few tears leaked out of your eyes and then you felt terrible, it was only one night of being given the cold shoulder and this is where it lead you? Were you too comfortable and safe so now you’re being punished for opening up your heart? You ended up crying yourself to sleep, not remembering when exactly you managed to fall asleep but you did it. Unbeknownst to you Romance was patting himself on the back. He proved it! He isn’t just a flirt and can totally do the cool guy persona. He can’t wait to rub it in your face in the morning that he got you when he checked his phone at the time you usually woke up, he froze.

Where’s his good morning text? He scrolled up the chat log and realised he hadn’t wished you a good night and he frowned at himself, he had to turn off his notifications so he wouldn’t instinctively respond to you every time you sent a message but now he felt bad. He really left you hanging that much in between each reply? Yeah he’s a demon but he knows that a real gentleman doesn’t let someone second-guessing their words. 

 R: Good morning my sweet rose!

 [N]: Hey

 R: I hope you slept well, I’m excited to hear your voice

 [N]: Are you?

 R: Of course I am! I always love to hear your sweet voice

He sent a good morning text to you first, excited to see your reply but wasn’t expecting a simple ‘hey’ in return so after the next messages were exchanged he called you up. He expected your sleepy voice but he didn’t expect to hear you sniffling into the receiver as you picked up, your voice was a little sad and he felt his heart ache a little.

“What’s wrong..?” He asked and you scoffed. Really? He couldn’t tell? Before you could tell him off he excitedly told you what he did yesterday. “I did it! I managed the cool guy thing in our messages, see I’m more than just a flirt.” There was some pride in his voice and some triumph to it too and you felt tears well back up in your eyes as you heard your regular Romance speak to you, like he normally did with that slightly sultry tone and could hear the crinkle in his eyes as he would’ve smiled as he talked.

“You were a jerk.” You responded curtly, a slight edge to your voice as the relief kicked into your body a little. It was just a bit. And not a total shift in personality, thank god.

“..I messed up didn’t I..” Romance said quietly into the phone as he scratched his cheek with his free hand, he definitely owed you a romantic date and he knew it. Your simple hum of agreement reaffirmed that thought and he immediately started going on a tangent about how he’ll make it up to you and that he’s sorry, the little quiet laugh you let out let him know that you weren’t opposed to that either.

Maybe being the ‘flirty one’ wasn’t that bad.

Baby 

Baby doesn’t really exert much energy to talk much when he doesn’t need to, mostly giving one-liners that make you laugh a little too hard because often it’s something unhinged or he points something out that just makes you snort

He doesn’t think he’s the most funny guy ever but you definitely give him an ego boost when you laugh at an off-hand comment he says or when the guys roll their eyes at him

The guys were ragging on him one night - saying that he wasn’t that funny and was an asshole who only knew how to say a mean quip to get some cheap laughs and he was irritated, so what? You liked it so it worked right?

Then he started to think it over.. maybe you were only giving him pity laughs? And that thought in itself pissed him off a bit - he doesn’t want your stupid human pity, he’ll make a different joke and he had the perfect idea

You’re always so forgetful he could probably throw something of yours away and you wouldn’t even notice and then laugh at yourself when you realise what happened - so he did just that

It was just a joke, he didn’t understand why you were staring at him like he killed your family. All he did was throw away some useless piece of jewellery you don’t even wear that often - it was supposed to poke fun at how you always forget about things when you put them down and walk away. How forgetful you are. But you’re not laughing and he doesn’t understand. Why’re you so quiet right now? It should be hilarious - hell he’d laugh too if you threw some useless junk he had out and he didn’t notice for a week.

“Why did you do that..?” Your voice was small as you questioned him, tears welling up in your eyes and he got irritated at that. Why’re you so upset over some dumb piece of metal? 

“Get over yourself, you’re such a crybaby.” He muttered, mouth moving before his mind could catch up and that’s what did it. The tears were falling down your cheeks as your lip quivered, there was such a distinct look of betrayal in your eyes and he was flabbergasted. It was just a joke why’re you crying? He didn’t stop you as you shoved him out of your apartment, you weren’t cursing him out and you didn’t even say goodbye to him as you slammed the door shut in his face. But then he heard the faint sounds of your broken sobs through the door and realised yeah... maybe he was just an asshole. 

He left you alone for a while, thought that maybe giving you a few days would be the right thing to do because if you wanted to talk to him - you’d just message him. You always did. But his phone had no new messages, no missed calls, not even a tag on social media in a meme that reminded you of him. Just radio silence. The other guys knew something was up but didn’t want to push Baby to talk to them, the first time Romance tried to ask if he was alright he snapped at the elder guy that he was fine and things are perfect right now. He was irritated, at you for making him feel confused like this. Yeah he can be an asshole but now you’re being an asshole too by not talking to him about it. 

It’s not like the piece of jewellery would be lost forever, he could just buy you a new one! Then the information was leaked to him from the other guys. Romance had managed to talk to you and was telling Jinu when he overheard where you got that dumb bracelet from. A late gift from an ex-best friend or something, one that had moved away and you were never able to contact again and he was annoyed all over again. You don’t even talk to that person anymore! Why does it matter! He blurted it out and the other two jumped, not realising he had been listening in and then Jinu spelled it out for him.

“It’s the memory associated with it, that’s what matters.” He explained as he looked down with a stern expression, they’re demons and yes their humanity may have been lost to a large extent... but the memories were always something that haunted them. So how could it not effect a human? He reconsidered his frustrations and finally let it go, the next day busying himself with how to make it up to you and he found himself at your doorstep. Knocking softly on the front door and waited for the familiar shuffle of you rushing around and opening the door with a smile. Everything but the last part of the routine was there, you tried to smile at him but it looked like you were still upset so it didn’t reach your eyes and he mentally kicked himself over it.

“Hey-” “I’m sorry.” You couldn’t even greet him before his hand was extended to yours, a small bracelet in his palm that was messy - clearly handmade and not by a professional but it made your lips quirk up in a genuine smile this time. You gently picked it up from his hand and slipped it onto your wrist, the colours were pastel and matched his signature hair colour and a soft baby pink. Not the prettiest thing in the world but there was meaning in it and soon enough Baby found himself wrapped up in your arms, something he hadn’t realised he missed so much in the days without your touch so he graciously accepted the hug and squeezed you lightly in his arms mumbling a complaint into your shoulder about how you can’t just go silent on him out of no where like that again.

Yeah, he may be an asshole but at least you seemed to forgive him for it.

[lomlando]

Oh!

summary: When Kimi asks his teammate an innocent question, secrets are revealed

content warnings: mild language :)!

word count: 1 k

pairing: lando norris x fem!driver!reader

SERIES: Messy || may be confusing if read as a standalone one shot!

You quickly stripped down to your sports bra and boy shorts and swung one leg over into the small ice bath waiting for you. The quicker you were in, the quicker you were out was your mentality. Kimi stood, grabbing the edge of the bath beside you, mentally preparing himself for the ice-cold. You sank to your shoulders, feeling the cold make your muscles tense up. You understood why an ice bath was beneficial, but man, did you hate it. 

“You know the faster you get in, the faster we can get out, right?” You say, staring at Kimi who had not moved. Two months ago, you both agreed that you would stay in there together as long as the other one did to keep each other company. To maybe make the time go by faster, since you both hated them.  

“So, who did you have the other day with 20 questions? George? Max? Lance?” Kimi says, wincing as the cold water finally hits his legs. “I had Franco, super nice guy actually.” 

“Lando.” As you said it, Kimi’s body hit the water so fast it made a splash. Like the word had genuinely made him fall back from being so surprised. “Dude, did you just slip?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry about that. So you had Lando?” You could hear the change in his voice; he genuinely was surprised you were paired with Lando, but why? 

“Yeah, he was pretty nice actually. I hoped he was, you have always talked so highly of him it would have sucked ass if he was rude.” You say, looking over to Kimi, who was now looking at you in what looks like absolute horror. 

“Oh.” He says, snapping his head away from you. Suddenly, the wall in front of both of you was the most interesting thing in the room in his mind. 

That Oh. It was not a “Oh!” like ‘Oh, I’m so glad you finally were able to meet him!’ or ‘Oh! How did it go?!’ No, this oh was sinister. Like the “Oh” you say when you realize you sent a text to the person you were talking about, or the “Oh” when you realize you have been calling a person the wrong name for three weeks. Not a good oh by any means. 

“Why did you say oh like that?” 

“What do you mean?” Kimi finally shoots his head back over to you. He knows he’s caught. Even in the 20-degree water, he is still practically sweating. “I meant like ‘OH!” He changed his inflection completely. You can see right through it, though. “You know I love Lando, I’m glad you finally got to meet him.” Kimi begins to stand up. “I think I’m done for the day, I can’t take it anymore. I’m going to get changed.” 

Before you can even protest about how short the stint was, Kimi is already out the door. 

By the time Kimi comes back into the room ten minutes later, you are still sitting in the tub, still confused by the ‘oh’. 

“Oh,” Kimi says as he lets out an awkward laugh, “I thought you would be changing by now, too.” 

Before you could even really think, you leap out of the small tub and lunge towards the door. You had to know what Kimi meant earlier. 

“What the fuck, are you really blocking me in here?” 

You were a sight to see, you were sure of it. Soaking wet, standing in a growing puddle, arms and legs sprawled out in front of the large door as if you were a starfish protecting their sand. 

“You aren’t leaving this room until you tell me what you meant by that, 'oh, ' Antonelli. We promised each other no secrets.” 

Kimi puts his arms up in defeat. “Listen, not everyone has to like you. You’re gonna have to learn that. Especially being in this sport. You know I still remember…” 

As Kimi was rambling about what you, assume, to be a hate train he remembers his rookie year, he hadn’t even noticed you drop your arms and legs back to normal. What did he mean by that? As far as you were concerned, Lando and you had a fine time filming together. You hadn’t ever laughed for that long in your life, much less that hard as that day. 

“What do you mean by that?” Now, a lot more reserved, almost hoping Kimi would refuse to answer. 

“Okay, look, full story. I was talking to Lando the other day and asked who he was paired with. He said a rookie, then told me he didn’t care for them. I really thought he was talking about one of the other two, or I would have defended you. For what it's worth, I think you’re great.” Kimi says moving past you out the door. “Look, don't let it get you down. Take him down next week on the track.” He yelled back down the hallway, walking backwards towards the exit.

Kimi was right, next week all 20 of us would be in Monaco for the opening weekend, nothing else should matter. You should be focused only on racing. 

But the only thing on your mind that you could get out was, “oh.”

[monimccoythings]

The Dirtiest Corners Of The Mind

I had A LOT of fun writing this. I wanted something silly and funny. I was thinking about Trilogy!Logan and the raw sexual energy that radiated from his pores.

Summary: Being a telepath has its perks, but it also comes with a great cost, specially if the object of your desire just cannot stop having very sexual and indecent thoughts about a coworker.

Tags: f!reader, Logan has a dirty mind, he's a perv (but he's in love), reader is clueless, telepath reader..

I wanna bend you over the counter and fuck you so hard I'll erase the memory of any other man from your mind.

You closed your eyes. Here we go again. Many people thought that being a telepath was a big win in the mutant lottery, but sometimes you'd wish you could stop hearing those voices altogether. Especially if they came from Logan.

Logan.

From the very moment he stepped foot on the mansion you had desired him like you had never desired anybody else. Big, muscular, with a roughness that made him handsome, he sure was a walking wet dream. But the thing that attracted you the most was his heart, behind all that toughness and snarkiness laid some sweet gentleness that one would have never thought possible coming from a man like Logan.

However, reality is a lot different from a cheesy romance novel, in the real world, where sadly you all have to love in, men like Logan would never spare a single glance at you. In fact, they always went after women like Jean. And how could you blame them.

Jean was sweet, kind, smart, and with looks that came out of a model catalogue. Anybody would be lucky to have her. You, meanwhile, were just... you. The sooner you accepted that Logan would never be interested in you the better.

That didn't mean it didn't hurt.

Because if Logan was anything was overly open with his thoughts.

Yeah shake that piece of ass f'me, sweetheart, can't wait to grab a bite.

You nearly dropped the bowl you were beatings the eggs in, your breakfast almost ruined.

Jesus Christ, you thought to yourself. He never stops. A part of you bitterly wondered why he wouldn't think that about yourself, but you quickly shut it down. Better lower your head, and accept reality as it is, even if it was the most painful thing you had ever done.

Maybe a bit of music would help you get distracted from the awkwardness and the soft pang in your chest.

It was like you could never escape him.

At the library, where all you wanted was some peace and quiet to finish your novel while sitting in the most unladylike manner ever known to woman, your fantasies were soon disrupted by his wild train of thought.

Open nice and wide. The big bad Wolverine wants his meal.

Fuck. You didn't know what Jean was doing to provoke that reaction nor did you want to stay long enough to discover it. You promptly shut your book and hurried away.

At the pool, on a hot summer day, enjoying an iced tea, and praying that they'll be too busy preparing for the next mission.

There are many ways to get you wet

You choked on your drink.

The last straw was during a team meeting, everything was supposed to be serious and professional. Keyword 'supposed'.

Wanna breed.

You paled. Out of all the things anyone could think during a meeting, that's the last thing you'd expect. You couldn't look at Logan, Jean or Scott in the eyes after that. Poor Scott. If only he knew what went through Logan's mind.

Something had to be done. Leaving the mansion until things cooled down or they finally fucked was too extreme and you didn't think your heart would survive that. Confronting Logan about his very inappropriate and very private thoughts was out of the question as well, it was too embarrassing and pathetic.

So, that only left you with a choice: avoiding him as much as you could for the rest of your life.

You didn't want to be rude. But it was getting harder and harder to escape him. It was a vicious circle of awkwardness and heartbreak that you didn't seem to be able to escape from. No matter what you did, there was a constant reminder that the only man you had ever loved would never give you the time of the day. Maybe some distance would help you heal.

And for a while, it worked. You found your well deserved peace and it helped you push any thoughts about Logan or your unrequited love to the back of your head.

Until they came back. Stronger than ever. Impatient. Angry. Desperate.

Where is she?

Where is she??

WHERE IS SHE

You knew Jean and Scott had parted in one of those super secret missions a couple of weeks ago, huh, you thought Logan knew it too. Weird.

It was a constant drilling in your head. Sometimes you had to take something from the mansion's self aid kit to be able to sleep well.

After another week of endless agony, Scott and Jean finally returned from a successful mission. That called for a celebration, and you were not going to say 'no' to a big party with all your friends.

It'd help you to let loose a little and have fun. And you were, until a thought, as powerful as a hammer to the head invaded your mind.

There you are.

You nearly sighed with relief, finally. Logan would see that they had come back safely and would stop driving you nuts with his miserable thoughts. You didn't know you could miss the horniness yet here we are.

As you looked up from your conversation, expecting Logan to be making puppy dog eyes at Jean for the rest of the evening, you found instead that at the end of his heated glare wasn't the redhead.

It was you.

As soon as he noticed you staring back at him, his eyes hardened. He started marching towards you like a man with a mission, not caring who got in his way. Somehow, you felt (and looked) like a deer in the headlights.

You quickly excused yourself and tried to get out from there before Logan pounced on you. You believed yourself safe in the hall, but you didn't get too far before his deep voice startled you.

"You've been avoiding me." His flat tone suggested he was indifferent to that fact, but boy did you know better.

"Uh-"

Naughty kitten let me put you over my knee and give you a good spanking.

He sure knew how to make the most out of a bad situation. Even now he was thinking about Jean?? Still, you were starting to have your own doubts about it. His intense gaze never wavered from you, and there was no Jean in the nearest vicinity. She was completely oblivious of whatever this confrontation was back at the party. It was impossible he could have directed that thought towards her, right? And if he wasn't thinking about her right now, then that would mean-

Oh.

Oh. Indeed.

"I've been hearing your thoughts!" You blurted out without thinking. You thought you'd never see the day when The Wolverine would turn red, well, you thought wrong.

His surprise soon turned into embarrassment, and after several seconds that felt like an eternity and your lack of reaction, his embarrassment turned into disappointment.

"Oh. I understand." His voice sounded calm, too collected and eerie. For once, you wished he threw at you what crossed his mind. "I'll let you be." He sounded so dejected, so defeated, it tore at your heartstrings. You knew you had to do something, you had never been one to give yourself false hope, but if there was a little chance, an itty bitty chance that all this time he had been thinking about you, shouldn't you be daring and take it?

What could you lose? Apart from your dignity? If things went south you could just move out and swap identities. Easy peasy, nothing to worry about.

"I thought they were about Jean."

That made him freeze in his trucks. Cautiously and angonizingly slowhe turned around. One of his bushy eyebrows formed a perfect arch that perfectly portrayed his disbelief while his head slightly titled like a confused kitten.

"Jean?"

You gulped, already regretting your stupid moment of bravery and mentally choosing which country would be best to spend the rest of your days.

"Well, it's a well known fact you feel something for her."

Well it's a better known fact I wanna put my dick in your mouth.

Your gasp may have come out a bit more short breathed and needy than intended. But what could you say, he was breathtaking. Logan smirk widened when he caught sight of your flushed face and prowled towards you like a lion cornering a tasty gazelle.

One of his large hairy hands went towards your waist, pulling your flush against his with a low chuckle, while the other delicately grabbed your chin to force you to look into his eyes. His pupils had blown up so much there was barely any room left for that soft tone of hazel you absolutely adored.

"You don't need to worry anymore, sweetheart. We ain't gonna do much thinking from now on."

[nekonaps0]

Hiii, first time requesting smth from you but i LOVE your work! Its just so easy to read, its descriptive but not too wordy, which is a pet peeve of mine for fan fics lol.

Anyway, could you write a reader/idia of an unlikely pairing? Like the reader is almost a polar opposite of idia but they somehow manage to get together?

Thank you so much! And again, keep up the good work <3

Out of my league

✦fem!reader

✦characters: Idia

✦Social anxiety (Idia), fluff overdose, Idia overthinking literally everything

The first time Idia Shroud noticed you, it was because you were loud.

Not in the annoying way. Not in the “make him mute the game” way. Just…so present.

You moved through Night Raven like you belonged in the center of every scene: laughing in the dining hall, calling out to people in the hallway, showing up to class with glitter on your face and a joke in your mouth. You wore the loudest colors. You clapped when you laughed.

You were, in every possible way, a walking migraine to his quiet existence.

So why, in the name of all things, did his stomach do a weird little flutter every time you passed by?

It started with an accident. You had wandered into the Ignihyde dorm looking for Ortho who adored you, naturally and you got lost.

He panicked when you suddenly knocked on his door and you just stand in his doorstep with a big smile. Not because he didn’t want you there. But because his room was a disaster of cables, figurines, wall-to-wall monitors, and one very red, very reclusive housewarden in pajama pants…

You looked around with stars in your eyes and said

“Holy crap, your room looks like the inside of an anime opening! This is SO COOL.”

Idia glitched.

Like, emotionally glitched.

No one ever said his world was cool. He spent years trying to keep it separate from everyone else’s.

You plopped down on his beanbag chair like you belonged there and pointed at one of his favorite rare figurines.

“Is that the limited edition figurine from that new anime? One of my friend has one. He says it’s cursed.”

He choked on his own spit.

You grinned. “So… are you cursed too?”

He didn’t know what to do with that.

•

You didn’t stop visiting.

At first, Idia assumed you were just being nice, or maybe doing some weird social experiment to see if he’d explode.

But you kept showing up. Kept dragging him into sunlight… metaphorically, thank the gods… and demanding his opinion on things.

“Would you still like me if I was a worm?”


“Which anime would we be the power couple in?”


“Should I dye my hair blue to match yours, or would that be cringe?”

He answered in stammers and soft muttering, while his hair burned pink like he was about to self-combust.

You made it worse by leaning in every time.

Like he was worth listening to.

The thing about you was: you never asked him to change.

You didn’t force him to go to parties. You didn’t drag him into crowds. You just… showed up. With snacks. With stories. With shiny trinkets and strange animal facts and the warmest presence he’d ever known.

And somehow, despite all odds, Idia started opening the door before you knocked.

One day, he asked.

“Why do you… like hanging out with someone like me?”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You’re, like, sunshine and shouting. And I’m… basement gloom and digital ghosts.”

You tilted your head, lips twitching. “And yet, here you are, warming up to me like a lizard in a heat lamp.”

He short-circuited.

But you weren’t done.

“You don’t get it, do you? You’re easy to be around. You don’t fake things. You care about stuff…like, deeply. And when you talk about the things you love? You glow, Idia. You’re brilliant.”

He stared. Speechless.

And then you kissed his cheek. Casual. Soft. Like it wasn’t the biggest moment of his life.

“Also,” you added, winking, “you’re cuter than you think.”

Idia was red for six hours straight.

•

It took time…weeks…months, loaded silences and soft heartbeats, but eventually…

You were curled beside him on the bed, watching a boss fight. You shouted excitedly when he landed a crit. He blushed. You cheered. He muttered something about how his “damage stat increased just because you were watching.”

And then, quietly, tentatively, he took your hand.

“I don’t… I mean, I didn’t think… someone like you could like someone like me.”

You turned and kissed the top of his head.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Shroud. We’re a legendary drop—rare, chaotic, and somehow exactly what we needed.

..............................................................................................................................

Hiiii~ I hope you like it ✨

[depressedtifosa]

summary: When the Front Man's girlfriend is a recurring VIP, the stolen conversations become a lot more valuable. pairing: Hwang In-ho x reader

“You know what they say. All work, no play—”

“My name’s luckily not Jack, so I’m safe,” you tell the fellow VIP with a mean smile.

All of you had dinner together, and they have just decided to keep the night going, raising the stakes a little. If they want to play poker, let them play poker, but you’re not sticking around for their stupid, shallow chatter. 

Instead, you wander out of the room, looking for a familiar face that you were beginning to miss. The stupid little cat and mouse game he’s been playing is getting on your nerves, but you’re nice enough to keep playing along for now.

You don’t miss the way a guard’s head turns as they follow your every move, but you can’t be bothered by the attention. He wouldn’t let them hurt you, so there’s nothing to be afraid of.

“Getting bored of your VIP friends?” 

Without turning to look at the man in gray, you let out a sarcastic laugh. “Friends, right,” you note dryly. 

It’s there in the air, the tension that’s hard to miss, even by people who share the room with you. One guard, your assigned waiter who’s making sure you always get what you want, and some poor soul who has to stand there and look pretty. It’s ridiculous, but sadly, that’s what the other VIPs need. 

“So, you’re looking for me then?” he wonders quietly, his voice distorted by static. 

You don’t want to make it easy for him, you want to play hard to get, but how could you? You know him, you’ve seen that face and body so many times in the past that you could recall every imperfection, every scar. 

And just thinking about really seeing him again after those four dreadful months apart, you can’t promise not to blow your cover with a move that couldn’t normally happen between a guest and the Front Man.

“I’ve met some of them before, and trust me, the last thing I want is their company when I can have you too.” There’s a quiet scoff leaving his lips. It’s easy to miss, but you pick up on it. “You want it too.”

The mask can’t get in the way of you finding out he just rolled his eyes at you. It’s been a while since you’ve started dating, by now you can tell how he reacts to things instinctively. 

Yet, he refuses to admit it. “I’m here as the Front Man, not as your boyfriend, and you’re here as a VIP, not as my girlfriend,” he points out.

“You’re smiling under that mask, In-ho, I can tell,” you say, doing your best to keep a straight face. 

His mask hides his whole face, but yours only covers the upper half. The guests are usually having a blast being here, so it’s not unusual to smile and laugh, but he’s always a professional, always keeping a certain distance. 

The Old Man was different, but that’s okay. It’s better this way.

“Oh, so you think you know everything?” When you let out a hum of agreement, he lets out a sigh and turns his eyes away from the screen the two of you have been seemingly watching. “What am I thinking about right now?”

It doesn’t take too much brain activity to figure out. “Me, in your bed, naked, preferably kissing my way down to—”

“Enough,” he warns.

“What? You were the one who asked,” you inform him. “Was I right, though?”

In-ho looks at you, and once again, you can tell what expression he has on his face. It’s one full of love and affection, the kind of look you only see when he’s alone with you. But tonight, it only feels like it was the two of you in a room full of people—and cameras. 

But it’s there.

And it’s real.

“As always,” he says eventually.

Letting out a dreamy sigh, you lean a little closer to him. “I wish we could have some alone time here without anyone noticing,” you whisper.

He takes a deep breath before responding, but whatever he wanted to say stays bitten back. Something catches his eye, drawing his attention away from you, back to the screen where the night cameras are sweeping the dormitory, and are now focusing on Player 456.

“What is it?” you ask as you turn your full attention to the screen. 

There has to be a reason why this particular player has caught his attention. From what you can see, he’s handcuffed to the bed, and he looks sick, or depressed, or maybe both at the same time. Whatever happened to him? You can’t recall ever seeing a player being treated like this.

But In-ho remains silent, deep in thought, probably already forgetting you’re standing there. 

Just when you make up your mind to ask again, this time being a little more specific, a familiar and very annoying voice calls out for you from the private room’s direction.

“Hey, missy, we thought you had business to take care of,” the other VIP yells. “Stop chatting, and come back to play with us. It’s so much fun!”

That guy certainly won’t remember anything tomorrow based on how drunk he is. No wonder a stupid game of poker is this exciting to him, despite you all being there to watch people slaughter each other for money. But he’s always been like this, caring more about the social part of this visit then the actual endgame.

In-ho tenses up on your side as he finally pays attention to what’s happening around him and looks at the man across the room. 

“Nah, I only stopped to ask for a hint for tomorrow’s game, but our beloved Front Man decided to zip his lips for the rest of the night,” you shout back with a fake laugh. The man waves, then disappears behind the door as suddenly as he appeared. “I’ll go back to my room and do some unholy things in there while I think about you,” you whisper with a wicked grin. 

[saturns-peachy-honeymoon]

dally's girl!

summary: ponyboy’s having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that you are dating dallas winston. (part 2 of dally’s girl? but can be read as a standalone)

content: dally x soc!reader, fem!reader, platonic!ponyboy, platonic!johnny, post canon lite, mostly fluff with a cheeky makeout 

word count: 1200 words

warning: profanity, mentions of sex, suggestive 

“Pony, you got 5 out of 20 terms correct. I know you don’t love Shakespeare, but this just isn’t like you. Are you okay?” You asked, brows furrowed in concern, eyes worried.

You were so soft. Caring. Like the big sister he never knew he wanted. And you were dating Dallas Winston. Of course, he was finding it hard to focus. 

Ponyboy shook his head, not wanting to upset you, “Yeah, yeah, of course, I guess my mind is just somewhere else, sorry.”

It took one look to know that you did not remotely believe him. 

You gently placed your perfectly manicured hand on his. “Ponyboy, you know you can talk to me.” 

He shook his head again, careful to avoid your eyes. 

“Is this about,” you leaned in close to whisper, “Dally?” 

Ponyboy stiffened. Of course, it was about Dally. How the hell did he manage to get a girl like you? You were pretty, intelligent, kind, and above all… YOU WERE A SOC! The very thing Dally hated most in this world. Sure, he’d softened a little since the events of last year. Since Bob’s death, the rivalry between greasers and socs had definitely lessened, but things certainly weren’t hunky-dory. 

What was even odder was how much Dally seemed to listen to you, respect you. Seriously, what was going on here?? For God’s sake, he was lying on the Curtis couch right now, just waiting for you to be done studying. 

Dally hadn’t started there, of course. First, he sat at the table and invited you to sit on his lap while you studied. When you didn’t accept, he then stretched his arm over your shoulders and made snarky, unhelpful commentary about the material you were studying, which is precisely what led him to his current position. Stretched on the couch, mindlessly flipping a lighter and tuning in and out of whatever Johnny was watching. 

“Ponyboy?” Your voice pulled him back to your question. A question he really didn’t want to answer. 

Looking up at you shyly through his lashes, Ponyboy nodded in confirmation. 

“Do you want to talk about it? You can ask me whatever you want,” you were too nice. Way too nice. 

“I just need a second to wrap my head around it. Just a lot, ya know? I’m real sorry,” 

“There’s nothing to apologize for.” You closed your book decisively, “How bout we call it a day? Add an extra hour to tomorrow's study session to make up for it? Does that sound good?”

“Sounds good to me!” Dallas called out, leaning against the doorframe.

“I don’t remember asking you, Dally.” You weren’t being mean, just a matter of fact (and a bit teasing if the smile on your face was any indication). 

“It, uh, sounds good to me, too. I think I’m studied out,” Pony interjects.

“Fair enough.” You placed your books in your bag, standing up to dust off your skirt. In the blink of an eye, Dally found his way behind you, confidently wrapping his arms around your middle and resting his head on your shoulder. 

“Pony, when are Darry and Soda getting home?” Johnny asked, slinking his way into the kitchen. 

“They’re both workin’ tonight.” 

“What are you gonna do for dinner?” You asked softly. 

“I’ll figure somethin’ out, don’t worry,” Pony answered sheepishly. 

You looked at Dally, eyelashes fluttering. 

“No,” he answered firmly.

You pouted slightly, “Baby.”

Dally pinched his nose, groaning as he motioned to Pony, “Get in the fucking car, we’re going to the Dingo. You, too, Johnnycakes.”

You smiled widely, thanking your boyfriend and leaning in to kiss his cheek. 

Dally leaned into you, allowing your heads to touch for a moment, before turning his attention back to the boys, “Go. ‘Fore I change my mind.”

… 

“It was really nice of you to get the boys dinner,” you coo softly, as you twist a strand of Dally’s dark hair between your fingers. 

“Told ya I was nice,” he murmurs from where his head is resting comfortably on your abdomen. 

Dallas had climbed through your window about twenty minutes ago and made himself at home amongst your plush pink comforter and stuffed animals. For the past month, he had spent nearly every night wrapped up in bed with you. He swore it helped him sleep, but really, it was just nice to be with you. Feel your heartbeat against his body as he held you close each night. His little stint in jail was the longest he’d gone without you, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been losing his mind. 

Dally pressed a kiss to your stomach, “Besides, it always helps to be incentivized.” His hot mouth trailed up your clothed sternum, pausing midway to rest his chin and look up at you. 

His fingers curled around the ring hanging from your neck. His ring. “Looks good on ya, sweetheart,” he said as he kissed along your collarbone, occasionally stopping to gently suck on your soft skin in the hopes of pulling a reaction out of you. 

In your time dating Dallas Winston, you learned that this kind of switch-up was common for him. One minute, he’s cuddly; next, he’s absolutely insatiable. Not that you necessarily did much to satiate him, not the way the base of his stomach burned to be extinguished. 

“And what exactly were you hoping to get in reward?” 

“Ain’t it obvious, doll? You,” He continued his ministrations up to your neck, his body caging yours. He took care to press a kiss after each adjective, “Beautiful, perfect, sexy you.” 

Your face flushed brightly, “You sure are a cheeky one, aren’t ya?”

Dallas met your lips hungrily before returning his attention to your neck, nipping playfully at the sensitive flesh. “Cheeky. Horny…”

“Dallas!” You squeaked.

“Just kidding, doll… mostly.” He chuckled slightly as he placed a peck on your lips. “You know you got me wrapped around your pretty little finger, right?” 

“How you figure?” You asked, trying to maintain a teasing tone despite the vulnerability behind your question. 

“Have me lying around the Curtis house for hours, taking the boys out for dinner. Walking my ass all the way here to climb through your window, when I know damn well we ain’t going all the way tonight. And fuck, I don’t even care.” Dally laughed before a more subdued expression crossed his face. His rough fingers delicately traced your jaw before grabbing it. His eyes met yours in a way you could almost swear was vulnerable as he continued, “It’s just worth it to hold ya, kiss ya.” He hesitates slightly, “See ya. What have you done to me, sweetheart?”

Flushed and flattered beyond belief, you reach out for Dally, smashing your lips again. You moved against his mouth slowly, deliberately, desperate to convey every feeling you were too scared to voice. 

Dally’s hot breath fanned against your face as you pulled away. He placed a gentle kiss on your temple before rolling off of you and tugging you slightly to follow him with a soft, “C’mere.” 

There, wrapped up securely in his arm, head against his pounding heart, you thanked your lucky stars you were Dally’s girl.

[xoxochb]

⸻ stuffed plushies 🧺⋆˚࿔

pairing: jason grace x plushie lover! reader 💿 ‧₊˚ — everything I want by beabadoobee <33

it was the first time you’ve ever brought a boy into your cabin, let alone your boyfriend.

your relationship was still fairly fresh, though, not any more than a month ago had jason grace confessed his life to you with a bouquet of pink tulips and cheeks to match that same color.

and this time that you had been dating was a blissful as ever. jason was undeniably the best boyfriend you could’ve asked for. how sweet and respectful he was.

but this didn’t exempt you of the worries when he would be sleeping over at your cabin for the first time. not only was he not allowed to do so but you also had an abundance of plushies sitting on your bed that you avidly slept with every night.

it was silly, really. because jason was the nicest person you knew so even if he thought it was utterly ridiculous that you still slept with stuffies he wouldn’t say it out loud.

you toy around with the ear of your pink bunny plush. it sits on your lap contently as you talk on and on about your current read. it was a book both you and jason mutually read at the same time to enjoy stimulating conversations about once finished. and to say you were stimulated was an understatement.

unbeknownst to you, as you ramble, jason watches fondly as you hold your stuffed animal with such care as if it was an infant. it was endearing. the first thing he had noticed upon entering your cabin was how many of them you had. and all kinds of things too.

animals, sea creatures, foods, fantastical creatures, possibly anything you could never think of, really— and you had tons of them.

his bright blue eyes find themselves dropping to the bunny on your lap more often than he’d care to admit. and as much as he’d love to make eye contact while you talk and talk and talk, he couldn’t help but smile at your love for inanimate plushies.

“… I thought it was really funny when he came into her room through the fireplace. it was both genius and creepy. but he makes it work. and I think—” you pause, noticing jason was not looking at you but your bunny instead. “jase.”

his eyes meet yours quickly with a bashful look. “hmm?”

“were you listening?” subconsciously, you clutch your bunny closer to your belly. was he silently judging you? oh gods, what if he thinks you’re totally weird! what if he breaks up with you because you still sleep with children’s toys!

“of course. you were talking about the fireplace scene.”

you furrow your brows, remaining awfully silent. “oh.”

jason inhales, dropping his gaze to your bunny once again. “is that one your favorite?”

oh no. he hates you. he so thinks you’re a mega weirdo!!

“yes…”

he nods attentively. “do you have a yellow one?”

biting your lip, you reach behind you and hand him your yellow bunny. he smiles, holding it up.

“this one is my favorite.”

“how come?”

he shrugs, setting it on his lap similar to you. “I like yellow.”

“you can… have it if you want.” your hands go back to the long pink ears, fiddling. “the bunny, i mean.”

“really?!” jason’s face lights up like an excited puppy. you supposed he might’ve had a tail wagging even.

“sure.”

“thank you!” he reaches over and presses a kiss to your warm cheek swiftly.

you pull your knees up to your chest, yet ever so cautious of your bunny. “you don’t think it’s… weird? that I still collect them?”

“of course not.” jason intertwines one of your hands with his, rubbing your knuckles. “I think it’s nice. that you’re passionate about something.”

“really?”

“yes really.”

a smile forms on your lips. “thank you for not thinking I’m a weirdo.”

“you’re welcome.” he returns your expression. “now, you were saying about the fireplace?”

— request here !!

[fleurliz]

𝒥ellyous

【 ## 】    —   PAIRING    …    성찬    x  clueless!reader   ⋆     fluff    //    ,     …     💬          —     m.list   ˖    ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

The worst part wasn’t that you were in love with someone else.

No.

The worst part was that you weren’t in love with anyone—you were just so hopelessly, blindingly clueless that you never realized Sungchan was in love with you.

Everyone else knew.

You’d call him at 2 a.m. because you’d lost your keys, and he’d show up half-asleep in sweats, unlocking your door without complaint. You’d crawl into his bed during movie nights, tucking yourself under his arm like it was the most normal thing in the world. You’d steal his hoodies—never giving them back—and he’d pretend not to notice just so you’d keep wearing them.

You thought it was friendly.

You thought he held your hand when you were tired because he was “comforting you.” That he brushed your hair behind your ear because it was “in your face.”

You were the kind of girl who’d giggle and say, You’re so nice to me, Chan, never realizing he was mentally proposing marriage every time you smiled.

And the worst thing?

You did it without even trying.

Like last weekend—when you’d slipped your hand into his at the street crossing. Or the time you’d fed him a bite of your ice cream without blinking. Or when you’d fallen asleep on his shoulder, wearing his hoodie, legs draped across his lap.

You had no idea how many times he’d nearly leaned in to kiss you, how many nights he’d lain awake, heart a bruised thing in his chest, wondering how you could be so painfully, heartbreakingly oblivious.

And that’s why now—

You burst into his apartment, a tiny pink shopping bag swinging from your wrist, wearing that innocent smile that could unravel him in seconds.

You had no idea how many times you’d nearly given him a heart attack.

Like right now, when you burst into his apartment, a tiny pink shopping bag swinging from your wrist, wearing that innocent smile that could unravel him in seconds.

“Sungchan,” you chirp, “I need your opinion!”

He’s sprawled on the couch in a black hoodie and gray sweats, hair falling into his eyes, because he’s been sulking for the past two hours thinking about you out on your little coffee date with that guy from your history class. His jaw tenses.

“Opinion on what?” he asks carefully, because he knows if he sounds too jealous you’ll notice—though honestly, you never notice anything.

You plop down beside him, so close he can smell your perfume—soft and sweet, like vanilla—and his brain short-circuits.

“On this,” you say, pulling out a dainty hair clip. It’s shaped like a cherry. “Do you think it’s cute?”

He blinks. “Yeah. Cute.”

“Like…should I wear it on my next date?”

He almost chokes. “Date?”

“Yeah! Remember the guy I told you about? The one who’s in my class ?”

Oh, he remembers. The walking highlighter who’s been trying to flirt with you for weeks. Sungchan’s hands curl into loose fists, and he swallows the sharp thing in his throat.

“You really…like him?” His voice is too tight.

You frown, tilting your head. “I mean…he’s nice?”

That’s it? Nice? He wants to laugh, or scream, or just grab your face and say I’m nice too, but you don’t see me taking you on dumb coffee dates.

Instead, he says:

“Don’t go.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t go with him.”

“Why not?” you ask, wide-eyed. You look genuinely puzzled, and it only makes him feel more insane.

He rakes a hand through his hair. “Because—”

“Because what?”

Because I’m so in love with you it makes me stupid.

But you just sit there, blinking at him, clutching your cherry clip like it’s the most important thing in the world.

“You don’t even see it, do you?” he says hoarsely.

“See what?”

“How much I—” He breaks off, chest heaving. Your eyes soften in concern.

“Sungchan…are you okay?”

“No,” he mutters. “I’m not.”

Before you can reply, he grabs your wrist, tugging you closer until your knees bump. His heart is pounding like he’s run a marathon.

“I’m not okay because you keep going on these dates and talking about other guys and you never, ever realize—”

“Realize what?”

He exhales shakily, voice dropping low. “That you’re mine.”

You freeze, lips parted.

“…Yours?”

He tips his forehead to yours. “Yeah,” he breathes. “You’re mine.”

For a second, neither of you moves. Your pulse is thrumming under his fingers.

“You’re always mine,” he whispers. “And it’s driving me crazy that you can’t tell.”

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

Then, very softly, you say, “You…like me?”

His laugh is ragged. “I’m in love with you.”

Your heart skips.

“You’re so clueless,” he groans, burying his face in your neck, voice muffled. “God, you make me jealous over everyone who so much as looks at you.”

You swallow, feeling your cheeks burn. “…Even the guy with the pens?”

“Especially him.”

“…Oh.”

He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, searching for any sign that you’re going to run away. Instead, you smile—shy and sweet.

“…So…should I cancel my date?” you whisper.

His thumb brushes your lower lip, gaze dark. “Yes.”

“Okay,” you murmur, “but…what if I still want to wear the clip?”

He groans again, and you giggle as he kisses you—finally, after all that time, your clueless heart catching up with his.

And in that moment, there’s no more jealousy.

Just you. And him. And all the sweetness you never noticed until now.

[seitmai]

Many thoughts

She pretends that she doesn’t see the numbers on the sides of the weights, and pretends also that she doesn’t give a little bit of her imagination to the way that tattoo must move when he lifts them.

Fair

He passes by pretty quickly, concealed behind the kitchen island in just a few steps. Still, she saw him. Illuminated only by the light of the television, wearing a tight pair of black boxer briefs and dog tags around a silver chain. Long, muscled legs and tapered hips.  Sure, he was good looking before, and clearly fit — but she wasn’t expecting what had been under those slightly loose t-shirts.

A lot more interesting to look at than the TV 🤭👀

“Sometimes,” He cranes his neck to look at her over his shoulder. “That’s not weird.” Her lips almost quirk, and she gives him a confirming shake of her head. “I didn’t say it was. Do you have green tea?”

This convo was just so odd and off, I love it 🤭

She sets her gaze steadily on the television, her hands in her lap, wondering if he’s this brash with all of his house guests. With a swallow, she shrugs her shoulders. “Oh, it’s just this TV show about a columnist in New York in the nine—“ “Are you explaining Sex and the City to me?” Bradley sounds bewildered, his face stark as he stares at her across the couch. Avery’s lips tug at a smile, and she almost forget the nerves she’d been feeling.

Bradley is cultured 😌

Bradley seems like a nice guy. He slept in a bed clearly meant for a child all night last night, and he let her take the first shower this morning, he chased her across the parking lot and offered to fix all of her problems in one fell swoop. 

That's some real nice guy shit if you ask me

Maybe that’s because of some kind of debt he thinks he owes to Pete, and maybe it’s just because that’s the kind of man he is.

Maybe both🤷🏻‍♀️

He looks away before she’s even out of view, but it doesn’t change what he had been thinking. She’s Pete’s kid, for gods’ sakes. Not much of a kid anymore, but still, it wouldn’t be right.

He makes it more weird than it has to be lol

Man, Maverick would hate it, too.  Bradley wishes, silently, that he was here to scold him. Pete would square his shoulders and get that rare and serious look on his face, warning Bradley to keep his hands to himself. And Bradley would smile and taunt him, saying, “Don’t worry, Mav, I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”

Well when he is the perfect gentleman why would Mav hate that? Like better a nice, little older gentleman that cares than an asshole imo lol

 Shit. Bradley shakes his head and his voice pitches up a fraction. “Oh, she and Mav were just good friends for a long time.”

Suuuure

A product of one of Maverick’s ‘good friendships’ herself, Avery doesn’t need Bradley to explain to her what that means. It makes her a little less excited to get to wherever he’s taking her. 

Lmao so true, she nows better than anyone about Mav's ✨️friendships ✨️ lol

“What? — What’s that look?” He prompts, looking across at her with an amused smile toying at his lips. “She’s like a long time ago ex, right? She wasn’t dating Pete recently?” Bradley thinks on his answer for a moment. He isn’t surprised that she figured out there was something between Mav and Penny, he would have figured it out too.

Not sure if that lie will hold up 😬🙈

He guesses that Mav kept that kind of thing from her.

No shit Sherlock

“Alright, okay — yeah, this’ll be good,” Avery sounds more like she’s giving herself a pep talk than like she’s replying to him. He shoots her a smile and a nod anyway. “Thanks, again, by the way. You’re cool for setting this all up.” Cool. Not the kind of compliment he’s usually searching for from a pretty girl, but he’ll take it.

Take what you can get!

“Mav’s kid?” In the short time Bradley has known her, he knows that’s not the kind of response she would have wanted to get.

And she has every right to that, especially as there were seemingly not to close and then only being referred to being his kid

Swinging his arm out and throwing the heavy limb around her shoulders, Payback watches Rooster drag the stunned girl out from behind him and present her at his side. “It’d pay you to learn your new bartender’s name, Fitch.”

Great retort!

He’s looking Avery right in the eye, and he already can see that Bradley’s going to have to be reminded that not everyone likes the heavy handed approach to affection he can have.

Fair

Penny Benjamin is tall and striking, standing behind the bar with her eyes already on the new bartender. There’s a recognition and affection in the blue of her gaze that tells Avery she was lied to just a moment ago. That’s a woman who cared deeply for Pete Mitchell.

Well, there goes the lie 🫣

It puts a bad taste in her mouth, a pit in her stomach, a sudden coldness about the possibility of this job. Even if just for a short time, for however long she’s here, she’s just going to be an extension of the man she had always felt so far from.

Understandable

It’s Natasha that he can trust to catch his eye first, giving him that kind of look cautious parents give their kids when coaching them on a bike. She worries a lot for someone who swears that she doesn’t care about the meatheads she hangs out with.

She truly is an angel putting up with them

Bradley just shrugs. This isn’t the place to unpack whatever went down between Mav and Avery. He doesn’t know enough, even if he wanted to talk about it.

I really like how he knows and recognizes his place in this

“How’s she doing?” Bob asks, his blue eyes deep and sincere as he searches Bradley’s face, knowing better than to ask the same question. 

Bob🥹🫶🏻

Penny knows Bradley well enough to know that. He’s always been a very affectionate guy. Still, the look that she gives him is one that certainly, and silently, tells him to keep his hands to himself. 

 Pursing her lips, she rolls her eyes and shakes her head, and Bradley’s mouth almost falls open. There’s no way she thinks that he’s hitting on Avery. He’s just being friendly.

Of course, not even a little chance huh? 👀

Penny is such a mom, no matter who and I think that's admirable

Ashes, Ashes | Two | Bradley Bradshaw

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Synopsis: In which Maverick didn’t make it home after the Uranium mission. He’s missing, presumed dead. There are things that have to be done — someone has to take care of the house, the bills.

So, Maverick’s daughter is back in Fightertown for the first time since she was in elementary school. There’s a gaping hole in both of their lives now, and somehow, the world’s supposed to just keep on turning without him.

warnings: bradley bradshaw x minimally descriptive oc avery mitchell. age gap (23/33), smut, angst, hurt / comfort, mentions of character death, mourning, military inaccuracies. This entire fic and my blog is an 18+ space, minors do not interact. Do not repost.

…

Bradley rents a bungalow about twenty minutes from base, towards the south of the San Diego bay. He explains, on the drive there, while she is hugging an overnight bag of her things, that he’s been renting it from this sweet old lady for the past four years — but he’s only been living in it for about three quarters of that time, with deployments.

He talks a lot. Shooting halfway amused looks across at him every now and again as he talks over his music, explaining his entire rental history, Avery just lets him go on and on.

Maybe he’s worried that the silence will give her room to start tearing up again, but she knows that won’t happen — it was already a rare occurrence, just the once. 

She lets him talk. He doesn’t seem to mind how much attention she’s paying either. Anything other than silence is fine, even if he’s the only one filling it.

The respite comes when he parks in the driveway, hops out, and proudly displays the home to her. It’s white all over and covered in plants, all up the driveway and over the porch. There’s a surfboard sitting on the porch, waxed up and looking ready to go.

Inside is masculine and simple, and spotless. It looks more lived in than Maverick’s place, but in an exceptionally organised way. 

Just past the front door, he has an organised entryway with a closet and one of those shoe racks that looks like an end table. 

Beyond that, his living area is all open plan. His kitchen is to the left right as you walk in, and the living room is the clear focus. He’s got a big grey sectional pointed at a big tv with a stack of video games beside it.

He doesn’t ask her to take her shoes off by the door, but she copies politely when he kicks his off. 

That leaves her, blue and white tube socks, toeing against the chewed up corner of the area rug while he busies himself with fixing the few things he deems to be out of place. 

Itching to keep moving, she prods at the fabric, examining the teeth marks, wondering where the dog must be.

“Oh— that was my ex-girlfriend’s dog. I’ve been meaning to buy a new rug.” He explains, furrowing his brows at the spot as he tosses a throw pillow down onto his soft looking grey couch. “Um — so, I do have a guest room, but it’s kind of a gym right now. You can just make yourself at home, and I’ll go get everything out of your way.”

“I can take the couch.”

“No, no, you deserve some privacy at least. I’ll just be a sec — I have sodas and beers in the fridge, glasses are in the cabinet to the right. Help yourself.” He’s a good host, and a better one than she had been yesterday, considering that Maverick’s place is now technically her own.

As he heads for the long, stretching hallway, she shoots a look back down at the mauled rug. With how spotless the rest of this place is, he must have really liked that girl to let her bring her dog here, and to let it chew up his stuff.

She wonders, aimlessly, if he was mad about it. If they argued. If they broke up long ago.

Avery hasn’t had too many relationships of her own. Some mediocre sex and a couple of couch-based movie dates here and there, nothing to write home about. 

She sits cautiously, sinking into the pillowy cushion of the couch, taking the time finally to really look around her. The space is bright, with big windows all around and a view of the bay. There’s a sun catcher dancing from the curtain rod, casting rainbows across his wooden floors.

Maybe his ex had bought that, too.

The bungalow is small, but it fits all of his belongings with an abundance of space left. Avery thinks back to her father’s place, always cluttered and spilling over with junk, treasure from his years of travels.

Maybe Bradley is a little bit less sentimental about keeping things.

He rattles around in the room at the end of the hall for a while, huffing occasionally. While waiting on the couch, she considers getting up and offering to help a few times, but ultimately convinces herself against it.

“Alright! Fresh sheets and some space to move, there’s still a bunch of stuff in there but I tried to get it out of your way.” He comes strolling back down the hallway and drops down onto the couch at her side, letting out a heavy sigh.

She screws her mouth up a little, looking across at him while he rests his eyes, long, dark eyelashes brushing his warm cheeks. His long legs, covered by worn denim, stretch out far enough that he has to bend them around his coffee table.

When one hand comes up to card through his mussed curls, she catches sight of the tattoo inked across the expanse of his bicep. LXXXVI. ‘86. She starts to think on it, letting him enjoy his moment of peace, when he shifts and startles her enough to drag her eyes away from his flexing arm.

“Thanks, for everything,” Avery manages to still sound a little cautious in her tone, even when she’s rushing to speak. “Staying last night, driving me around today, letting me stay with you. I really appreciate it.”

He smiles without opening his eyes, reaching out and letting his hand pat skim across the seam of her jeans, patting at her knee platonically.

“Any time.” He breezes, cool. 

The first night is uneventful. Avery sleeps restlessly on the futon in Bradley’s spare bedroom, turned home gym. 

She pretends that she doesn’t see the numbers on the sides of the weights, and pretends also that she doesn’t give a little bit of her imagination to the way that tattoo must move when he lifts them.

When she wakes up, Bradley is gone and there is a note on the kitchen counter explaining that he went for a run. He was gone for two hours, trying to run far enough that the sick, hot, thudding feeling in his chest would stop.

Back at the house, Natasha stops by and spends the afternoon. She lets herself into the place with her key, which sits on her own keychain like she’s had it for a while. Watching a sitcom from the armchair while they sit beside each other on the couch, Avery notices that the two of them are very close.

She wonders if Natasha happens to have a dog.

Sleep doesn’t come any easier for either one of them the second night. When he finally catches sight of the red, flashing declaration on his alarm clock that it is now 2:01am, Bradley gives up.

He tries to be quiet as he’s getting up, careful not to wake Avery. They’re in much closer quarters in his place than they had been back at Maverick’s house, her door is right opposite his across the narrow hallway.

He pads down the hallway, rubbing at his eyes, tossing up whether he’s going to try to drink something warm and go back to bed, or if he’s just going to stay up. He can’t keep not sleeping.

He almost heads straight for the kitchen, freezing in his tracks as he finally takes note of the blue light coming from his living room, and the sound of women’s voices. It takes him a second, even though he’d been being so considerate on her behalf, to remember that he has a guest over.

“Ave?” He mumbles. 

The TV immediately falls silent. She winces from her spot on the couch, craning her neck to try to see him at the edge of the hallway.

“Just me. I’m sorry! Did I wake you?” She sounds worried. He’s still half asleep. 

He shakes his head as he steps out from the shadows and heads for his kitchen. “No, I just wasn’t expecting you to be up. I couldn’t sleep.”

He passes by pretty quickly, concealed behind the kitchen island in just a few steps. Still, she saw him. Illuminated only by the light of the television, wearing a tight pair of black boxer briefs and dog tags around a silver chain. Long, muscled legs and tapered hips. 

Sure, he was good looking before, and clearly fit — but she wasn’t expecting what had been under those slightly loose t-shirts.

Her mouth is dry as she mumbles out a soft, “Me either.”

“D’you want a tea?” He stands with her back to her now, reaching around in the darkness of his kitchen. She stares, unblinking, at his back.

“You drink tea?”

“Sometimes,” He cranes his neck to look at her over his shoulder. “That’s not weird.”

Her lips almost quirk, and she gives him a confirming shake of her head. “I didn’t say it was. Do you have green tea?”

He scoffs without looking. “Of course I have green tea.”

This whole lack of sleep thing isn’t new to him. It comes with the grief, but it’s there even when he feels like he isn’t grieving anymore. Since he was a kid, Bradley has had thoughts that keep him up at night, thoughts bad enough to stir him from peaceful, pleasant dreams.

He’s tried every tea in the catalog.

He carries the two mugs across the living room without once noticing the way he’s been stared at. He sets hers down on a cute little wicker coaster on his coffee table, walking past and dropping down onto the corner of the sectional.

His legs stretch out and he shifts and twists until he finds himself comfortable. “What’s this?”

She sets her gaze steadily on the television, her hands in her lap, wondering if he’s this brash with all of his house guests. With a swallow, she shrugs her shoulders. “Oh, it’s just this TV show about a columnist in New York in the nine—“

“Are you explaining Sex and the City to me?” Bradley sounds bewildered, his face stark as he stares at her across the couch. Avery’s lips tug at a smile, and she almost forget the nerves she’d been feeling.

Until, the light from the television catches on the silver of his dogtags. Her gaze drops, like a flicker, to his bare, toned chest — and she swiftly looks back to the television.

“You’ve seen it?” She asks softly.

He’s beyond good looking. He’d always been okay looking, he’d had a nice smile in all of those pictures she had seen. But now, the roundness of his cheeks is gone and he has grown into his nose, his lips are a shade of pink that would be a bestseller in cosmetics. 

Avery curses herself; she had been pretty successfully pretending not to notice that he had gotten good looking. Then, he comes strolling down that hallway and making her tea from his apparently extensive collection, having the nerve to sprawl across his own couch looking like that. 

Across from a girl who hasn’t seen any action in the better part of a year too. 

She almost scowls. 

“Every episode,” He answers gleefully. At first, she thinks of Natasha or that mysterious girlfriend with the badly behaved dog. Then, he adds, “This was my mom’s favourite TV show, ever.”

And suddenly, she feels a little guilty for acting like those muscles make him some kind of ladies’ man. Just because the rest of them have been, she guesses. 

Bradley seems like a nice guy. He slept in a bed clearly meant for a child all night last night, and he let her take the first shower this morning, he chased her across the parking lot and offered to fix all of her problems in one fell swoop. 

Maybe that’s because of some kind of debt he thinks he owes to Pete, and maybe it’s just because that’s the kind of man he is.

She glances across, watching him chuckle at a classic Samantha one-liner and take a sip of a raspberry herbal tea. Wrinkling her nose, she settles back down into the spot she had been relaxing in, and lets herself zone out again. 

They watch a couple of episodes. Unlike earlier, Bradley doesn’t feel the need to talk. He likes the quiet, mixed with their frequent chuckles. It’s an okay thing, to not have to fill that silent void. 

Avery is the first to excuse herself to go back to bed, and she hasn’t once mentioned his little Calvin Kleins or the way they make his thighs look. 

As she walks away, Bradley catches himself. He hadn’t much thought about what she might wear to bed, or what she’d been wearing when he first sat down with her. Her hips wiggle in her stride, her fitted pyjama shorts hugging her ass as she heads for the guest room. 

The material of her loose t-shirt is tucked in at the back. Those cotton shorts hug her hips and show off just the tiniest glimpse of her round ass, from where they have ridden up a little.

He looks away before she’s even out of view, but it doesn’t change what he had been thinking. She’s Pete’s kid, for gods’ sakes. Not much of a kid anymore, but still, it wouldn’t be right.

Man, Maverick would hate it, too. 

Bradley wishes, silently, that he was here to scold him. Pete would square his shoulders and get that rare and serious look on his face, warning Bradley to keep his hands to himself. And Bradley would smile and taunt him, saying, “Don’t worry, Mav, I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”

With her dad gone, it just makes it worse.

These next few weeks are going to be hard, and the least he could do is think with his head to keep things simple between the two of them. He heads back to bed late enough for it to almost not be worth it. 

He wakes to the sound of chaos over the comms, that same last conversation, those snowy peaks behind his eyelids. 

Mouth dry, heart thudding, his eyes are still shut when he stumbles out into the hall and twists the bathroom door handle. It jams, and he remembers. The sounds of water coming from behind the door stops abruptly.

Peeking her head around the shower curtain, already wincing, Avery calls back out to him. “Sorry! I’ll just be a second!”

“No — sorry, take as long as you want.” He calls back, shaking his head and heading for the kitchen. Restless and anxious, he splashes cold water across his face and thinks about Pete.

He saw Mav do this insurmountable times. He remembers all of the mornings that Mav would wake up gasping, shaking, and he would head straight for the bathroom, bolting the door. He’d come back out okay again. He wonders if Mav still did it, even all these years later.

If he still heard Goose’s voice through the comms, calling him out of his dreams. 

The thought makes him shudder. The bathroom door unlocking makes him flinch, looking up sharply. 

Avery steps out of the bathroom, her hair still dry and tied back, droplets of water still beading along the skin and flowing under the plush blue towel she had taken from the linen closet. He had told her to help herself, but he’s staring at her now and she’s second guessing herself.

He stands at his kitchen sink, his hands braced against the countertop, his knuckles white. She barely even notices his little Calvin Kleins. Her brows knit together as she takes a step toward him, barely visible around the corner.

“Hey… are you okay?” Her face creases with concern, lingering in the hallway so that he can see her just enough.

He remembers to let go of the countertop.

“Yeah,” He breathes out, unconvincingly, reaching up and shaking a hand through his tangled curls. He takes a second, trying to gather his thoughts enough to keep the conversation moving. “Were you still thinking you’re gonna need a job while you’re here?”

She blinks, her scrunched up face relaxing as she takes another step closer, cocking her head at him.

“Um, yeah. I think so.”

He nods. “Get dressed. We’ll go see my friend in a bit, can see if it’s something you might be interested in. Maybe, then we’ll take your car to a mechanic this afternoon.” 

Out of the house, he feels like he can breathe again. It’s just sleeping, that’s all. When he’s really awake, he can control it all a little better, it doesn’t get to him as much.

He drives the same way he had yesterday. Three fingers around the bottom of the wheel, seventies music playing. Today, the windows are down. Avery makes a pretty good passenger — she doesn’t ask him to change his music and she doesn’t put her head in the way when he’s trying to check his mirrors.

Mainly because she isn’t once watching the road, but that’s okay. 

She looks around the city like she’s seeing it for the first time. Mav lived her for longer than she’s been alive — and the entire place seems foreign to her.

Bradley knows both of his parents’ hometowns like the back of his hand, and he still hasn’t ever lived in either one of them. 

“Did your dad ever tell you about Penny?” He asks so calmly, drumming his fingers along the wheel, Ray-Ban caravans sitting across the bridge of his nose.

The look that Avery shoots him gives him more than enough of an answer. She sets her phone down in her lap and studies him, frowning slightly.

“Who’s Penny?”

Shit. Bradley shakes his head and his voice pitches up a fraction. “Oh, she and Mav were just good friends for a long time.”

A product of one of Maverick’s ‘good friendships’ herself, Avery doesn’t need Bradley to explain to her what that means. It makes her a little less excited to get to wherever he’s taking her. 

With one quick glance across, he catches the little frown settling across her lips.

“She owns that bar on Breakers Beach. We drove past it yesterday when we saw Admiral Simpson?” Bradley prompts her, glancing across at the passenger seat. She nods along. “I texted her yesterday and she really wanted to meet you, said you can have some shifts there if you want them.”

Avery wrinkles her nose, trying not to frown across at him when he’s doing his best to just be helpful.

“What? — What’s that look?” He prompts, looking across at her with an amused smile toying at his lips. 

“She’s like a long time ago ex, right? She wasn’t dating Pete recently?” 

Bradley thinks on his answer for a moment. He isn’t surprised that she figured out there was something between Mav and Penny, he would have figured it out too.

But, he had heard of Mav’s experience with Penny Benjamin a long time before he had actually gotten to meet Penny Benjamin. Really, he’s surprised to find that Avery has never heard of her, she and Mav were really on and off for quite a while.

He guesses that Mav kept that kind of thing from her.

Which means that he would want Bradley to keep the fact that he had seen Mav and Penny leave the bar together three times in the weeks leading the mission to himself too.

“Yeah. Like a long time ago.” He confirms.

“Alright, okay — yeah, this’ll be good,” Avery sounds more like she’s giving herself a pep talk than like she’s replying to him. He shoots her a smile and a nod anyway. “Thanks, again, by the way. You’re cool for setting this all up.”

Cool. Not the kind of compliment he’s usually searching for from a pretty girl, but he’ll take it.

Reaching across the centre console, he gives her knee a quick squeeze. “Not so bad yourself, Mitchell.”

Briefly, his palm lingers there. It’s just because he’s focusing on turning into the parking lot, but it’s still his large palm hugging the curve of her knee for a minute longer than it should have.

Completely over the thick protection of her jeans, but she stares at the touch anyways. Then, she dares to look back up at him. Totally relaxed as he pulls into a spot up front like it’s his own personal one. 

One more squeeze, and he takes his hand back and swings open the door. The parking lot is surprisingly busy for the middle of the week at noon.

 Avery follows him out of the vehicle, gingerly matching his pace as he heads inside. It’s once he’s spotted that she falters. 

“Rooster!” Someone even taller than he is comes marching up right away and throws his arms around Bradley. Bradley hugs him loosely, greeting him with an aloof but firm pat of the back.

“Payback.” He greets quietly.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you. How are you holding up?” His warm eyes bore into Bradley, his head bowed slightly and his voice sincere. He hasn’t spotted her yet.

“I’m alright,” Bradley sounds convincing enough, but this Payback guy hadn’t seen how rattled Bradley had looked this morning. “This is Avery.” 

Finally, Payback’s gaze flickers to the girl standing behind Rooster. Halfway tucked behind his shoulder, staring at him through her lashes, looking totally lost and sheepish.

“Mav’s kid?”

In the short time Bradley has known her, he knows that’s not the kind of response she would have wanted to get.

Swinging his arm out and throwing the heavy limb around her shoulders, Payback watches Rooster drag the stunned girl out from behind him and present her at his side. “It’d pay you to learn your new bartender’s name, Fitch.”

He’s looking Avery right in the eye, and he already can see that Bradley’s going to have to be reminded that not everyone likes the heavy handed approach to affection he can have.

Still, he smiles at her like he means it and nods his head respectfully.

“Already got it, it’ll be good to have you around, Avery.” 

A small smile works its way across her lips, grateful if not anything else.

“Nice to meet you.” She answers him quietly, stiff against Bradley’s side. He pats her back and urges her forwards.

“Here, this is Penny. Penny, meet your new bartender.”

Penny Benjamin is tall and striking, standing behind the bar with her eyes already on the new bartender. There’s a recognition and affection in the blue of her gaze that tells Avery she was lied to just a moment ago.

That’s a woman who cared deeply for Pete Mitchell.

It puts a bad taste in her mouth, a pit in her stomach, a sudden coldness about the possibility of this job. Even if just for a short time, for however long she’s here, she’s just going to be an extension of the man she had always felt so far from.

Penny cocks her head to the side, just a bit. Sure, she can see semblances of Pete in the girl across from her, but it’s the rigid, flighty look in her eyes that catches Penny’s attention. 

Across from her is someone with something to prove, and a character they’ve been playing for a long time now. That’s what feels most familiar.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Avery says stiffly, trying to sound like she means it. 

Penny nods, smiling. She glances towards Bradley, then back to the girl still tucked under his arm.

“You too. Let’s talk.” 

As Jimmy takes over the bar duties, Bradley’s left with the prospect of facing his friends when Penny and Avery disappear toward the back deck.

He scratches at the back of his neck, shooting one last look at the two of them over his shoulder, and wondering what he’s supposed to say to all of those guys. 

One by one, he could manage… but all in a group like that? — He hasn’t seen most of them since it happened. 

It’s Natasha that he can trust to catch his eye first, giving him that kind of look cautious parents give their kids when coaching them on a bike. She worries a lot for someone who swears that she doesn’t care about the meatheads she hangs out with.

He heads for her as coolly as he can manage, hoping that the other guys know not to give him a hard time today. They don’t, they never would. 

His therapist says it’s a defensive thing, the way he waits for people to say the wrong thing. When he’s hurt, he expects it, almost. He’s trying to get out of it. 

They can all give him credit for that.

Even so, it doesn’t take long for conversation to fade from small talk to the newest, most exciting subject.

“So, she’s staying at your place?” Natasha’s the first one to bring up the missing party, picking up on a comment about the two of them arriving together.

Bradley shakes his head and fiddles with his root beer bottle. “No, she’ll be over at Mav’s place once we get her car fixed up. It’s a real piece of shit, I don’t even know what they’d do to make it run any better.”

“Mav loves cars — and he lets her drive a shitbox like that?” It’s Javy who scoffs that out, the only one still talking about the Captain who had taken a shine to him in present tense. 

Bradley just shrugs. This isn’t the place to unpack whatever went down between Mav and Avery. He doesn’t know enough, even if he wanted to talk about it.

“She came all the way down here by herself?” Callie asks. She doesn’t say it, but she’s referring to the fact that her mother came all the way out to Lemoore to try to move her into the barracks like it was college when she was that age. 

Bradley shrugs again. He hasn’t heard much about Avery’s mom in the past twenty years, he isn’t even sure that he ever met her — certainly wouldn’t be able to pick her out of a crowd. All he knows is the gossip he’d gotten from his mom when it was all going down. 

“How’s she doing?” Bob asks, his blue eyes deep and sincere as he searches Bradley’s face, knowing better than to ask the same question. 

“Okay, I think.” Bradley muses, thinking of how quickly Avery had questioned the recovery efforts yesterday. “I dunno how close they were, but it’s always gotta be hard. Just… trying to make it a little easier on her, I guess.” 

They all nod, slowly.

And then Avery comes marching back inside, her chin high and her hair a little wind-swept, making a beeline right for the closest thing she’s got to a friend in this town.

“Hey.” Bradley offers her a smile, and reaches out for her. His hand grazes the back of her bicep, and she smiles more genuinely than she has in the past two days.

“Hi.”

He catches sight of himself being watched, and takes a look back over Avery’s shoulder to find Penny looking. Her blue eyes flicker down to his hand on Avery’s arm. 

Pursing her lips, she rolls her eyes and shakes her head, and Bradley’s mouth almost falls open. There’s no way she thinks that he’s hitting on Avery. He’s just being friendly.

Penny knows Bradley well enough to know that. He’s always been a very affectionate guy. Still, the look that she gives him is one that certainly, and silently, tells him to keep his hands to himself. 

He blinks, and finds his friends looking back at him expectantly. 

“So, you’re taking the job?” He checks, shaking off Penny’s watchful eyes and settling back into what he knows. Avery nods her head at him.

“Starting tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. That’s way soon. He’s going to have to make sure he doesn’t keep her up until four in the morning watching the misadventures of Carrie Bradshaw tonight. 

“Well, guys, say hi to your new bartender.” 

He brings the bottle of rootbeer back up to his lips and shoots a quick glance back over Avery’s shoulder. Penny stares back, unfazed, as he narrows his eyes back at her.

What does she know about anything, anyways?

…

[rinsfanfics01]

I've had this idea since the breakup. Since no one else is going to write it I guess I will.

Part 2

~

The thing is, they had talked about it. During that first coffee date, all those months ago. Buck and Tommy had decided to take a walk after finishing their coffees. He couldn't remember how the topic had come up, but he did remember telling him.

"Sometimes I say things, but they don't come out right." Buck had admitted, rubbing the back of his head. He could feel his face heat up and tried to avoid looking at the other man. Tommy had stayed quiet, so Buck did what he always did and rambled.

"It's not that I do it on purpose. I will be trying to say one thing but my brain goes too fast for my mouth to keep up. So I would be trying to tell you one thing but jump to the finish line without meaning to." He remembered so many times it had happened with Eddie. Where the other man thought he meant one thing and they ended up arguing over it. The lawsuit alone. Well, he tried to not remember that one.

"Okay, I can work with that." Tommy then said, bringing Buck back to the present.

"Yeah?" Buck asked, looking back at the other man. Tommy had a thoughtful look on his face. Maybe he was trying to come up with ideas on how to work with it. An unpleasant part in the back of his head suggested that he might be reconsidering.

"Have you ever heard of the color system?" Which, yeah. Buck had, but mostly in regard to kink. This didn't have much if anything to do with sex. Well, maybe sometimes it did, but he didn't want to talk about that.

"Yeah? Like green means go, yellow means pause, red means stop?" Buck snorted. Except, Tommy wasn't laughing. So he stopped and kept his attention on the other. What was he thinking?

"Exactly, we can use that. When you think I'm not understanding what you mean, or when your thoughts get to fast, you color out. We stop, then discuss." Tommy explained. Which was-nice? He'd never truly tried to find a way to help with this issue. He sorta expected that no one would have wanted to.

"Yeah-yeah, that works." Buck knew his face was probably cherry red at this point. Tommy reached and took his hand in his. Buck squeezed it, and he felt Tommy squeezing it back.

"Good." The older man hummed. Buck smiled back at him and gently bumped his shoulder into the other's.

"I mean, those colors work in other places too." Buck joked, making Tommy laugh.

They had used that system a few times. More so in the beginning of their relationship. Buck hadn't had to use it in a month or so now. So, it didn't surprise him that he hadn't thought about their arrangement until now.

"You wouldn't mean to, you wouldn't plan for it, but you'd end up breaking my heart." The words hit Buck like a bus. What did he mean by that? He loved Tommy. Why did he think he'd break his heart? "And I-I don't think that I could deal with that."

Buck had no clue what was happening right now. He tried to figure out where he went wrong. What did he not say that made them get here? Because if it was something he did say then they could fix jf. Well, maybe. It didn't help that Tommy looked devastated. He needed to fix this- he needed to stop this-

"I should go." Tommy said softly, standing up. Buck couldn't stop this. He needed to stop this. But Tommy kept on moving to the door. Which wasn't great. How could he stop this how-

"Wa-wait, wait- hey-hey-hey. Wait, did you just break up with me?" Buck asked. Thankfully that made the other man pause and turn. The hope he felt at the gesture didn't last.

"Yeah, I guess I did. Believe me I didn't see it coming either." Tommy sighed. "Shoulda known that parking spot was too good to be true."

Buck honestly felt his heart crumbling as he tried to think of anything to say. To make this stop. His brain scrambled with each pause. He needed Tommy to take control back and make things go right. But the other man wasn't doing it. Didn't he know this was one of those times Buck needed him to make things better?

"See you around Buck." Tommy whispered.

"Red." Buck said quickly, without thinking. When he didn't hear the door he repeated the word again.

"What?" He could hear Tommy say but by this point Buck had his eyes closed. The only thing he could think to do was grab onto his hair and repeat the word like it was a lifeline.

"Red-red-red-red!" With each time the word left his lips it raised in volume. He needed this to stop, why wasn't his daddy stopping?

"Hey-hey, what's wrong? You gotta talk to me, sweetheart." He could hear the other man say. His voice was soothing but it wasn't helping.

"Red means stop. You gotta stop. Red means stop." Buck tried his best to calm his own heart down but it wasn't too late. His brain was running on overtime and his system was shot. He needed his daddy to take control now.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Kalim Al-Asim - Room Relaxation Vignette

"Happy Birthday"

[Courtyard]

Kalim: Hmm, he's not here, either. Oh! Perfect timing… Heeey, Sebek!

Sebek: Kalim-senpai? Is there something you need of me?

Kalim: Have you seen Silver? Our professor asked me to go grab him, but I can't find him anywhere.

Sebek: …Why are you asking me? I'd think he's still in the cafeteria.

Kalim: Oooh, the cafeteria, huh! I don't normally go there, so I didn't even think to look there.

Kalim: Thanks for letting me know. As thanks, you're invited to my party. Come by Scarabia after classes tomorrow!

Sebek: Don't just carry on by yourself! I have plans tomorrow after school. If you truly wish to invite me, pick another date.

Kalim: Noooo, we can't pick another date! Tomorrow's my birthday, so we're going all out for the party.

Kalim: I'm letting everyone I run into know to come. We're gonna have a blast, chowin' down, singing, and dancing all together!

Sebek: I BELIEVE I'VE ALREADY MENTIONED I HAVE PLANS! Listen when someone else is speaking, why don't you? Goodbye.

Kalim: Looks like I got rejected～ …Ah, right. I have to go look for Silver. To the cafeteria!

[Scarabia Dorm]

Kalim: Everyone here? Alright, I'll pass along the info now.

Kalim: Oh, but… What was I supposed to talk about, again? Ahahah, I completely forgot everything!

[Jamil passes Kalim a note]

Kalim: Hm? What's up, Jamil? Oh, you wrote everything down for me!

Kalim: Uhh, let me see… "Renovation Notice"

Kalim: Looks like they're doing some repairs on old pillars and walls around campus. You can check the map posted in the lounge for the specific locations!

Kalim: What's next…? Oh, this is for the sophomores. The History of Magic report needs to be turned in by the end of next week…?

Kalim: Ah, now I remember! I'd promised Jamil that I'd start working on it tonight.

Kalim: I got a great idea! All the sophomores should get together and carve out some time to work on the report. That'll help us all make pretty good progress, don'tcha think?

Kalim: We should totally do it toni… Huh? Tomorrow's party is keeping you busy? Okay, then we should all get together tomorrow!

[Scarabia Dorm – Kalim's Room]

Kalim: Mmmm, today was so much fun! …HUH!?

Kalim: My room's filled with boxes! There wasn't anything here before I went for my shower…

Kalim: Oh, looks like my birthday presents got delivered. My family sent me a buncha stuff this year too～

Kalim: For now, I should just try to enter my room. Gotta make sure I don't step on any of the presents…

Kalim: Oh, hey, Carpet! You're offering to carry me into my room? You're so nice, thanks!

[Scarabia Dorm – Kalim's Room]

Kalim: Let's crack open these presents! Hm, which one should I start with?

Kalim: Ooh, you like that one with the red wrapping, Carpet? Alright, wait one sec, I'll open that first.

[rustle, rustle]

Kalim: It's a hairbrush. Oh, what's it say here…? "This was handcrafted piece-by-piece with specially selected materials by skilled craftsmen."

Kalim: "Only three of this exquisite hairbrush is made each year. Please have a luxurious experience with this."

Kalim: I don't really get it, but this all means this brush is pretty neat, huh. …Hm? You like this, Carpet?

Kalim: Okay, then I'll use this to give you a brushing today! Come here and lay on the ground for me.

[brush, brush]

Kalim: How is it? Ahahah, great! Feels good, huh?

Kalim: Oh, yeah. Let me give you a good scrub so you can look good for tomorrow's party too.

Kalim: A HAVEN WITHIN THE HOT HANDS, A NEVER-ENDING FEAST. SING! DANCE! OASIS MAKER!

[SPLAAAASH!!]

Kalim: Oops, sorry! I put a little too much into it. But now I need you to stay still, so I can brush you.

Kalim: Normal carpets tend to get fuzzy when brushed, or damaged when wet, y'know…

Kalim: But in your case, not only are you totally fine with all that, but you even have a few favorite brushes. You're a funny little thing!

[carpet shakes water off]

Kalim: Wah! Hey, I told ya not to move～ I was trying not to let it get everywhere, and now me and my room's soaked!

Kalim: Hmm, it's be great if my balcony was a bit bigger. …Oh, yeah! I think I had it over here on my desk…

「Survey on Quality of Life Improvements for the Student Body」

Kalim: I could just write on here, "I want a bigger balcony," and turn it in, right?

Kalim: That way we can splash around in water, or lay out under the sun. That's right, you think it's a great idea too, right?

Kalim: Maybe it could be the size of a classroom… Nah, that'd be too small to throw a party on, so I guess it'd be better to be the size of a gym.

Kalim: I wonder when they'll get started on making it? Can't wait to hear back from the Headmage～!

Kalim: Alright, we'll finish up with a quick blow-dry… Actually wait, can I use magic to dry you off today?

Kalim: Don't worry, I've actually gotten a bit better recently. Just watch～ …Hyah!

[casts wind magic]

Kalim: See, right as rain… WAAH!? All the wrapping paper is flying towards me…!

[casts magic to stop paper]

Kalim: …Huh? I just wanted to stop the wrapping paper from heading this way, but it looks like I stopped the wind, too.

Kalim: Looks like I didn't get the spells right today, too… I guess I'll just use a dryer to finish up.

Kalim: It's fine. Today might've been a fail, but I'll keep trying my best to get better!

[Scarabia Dorm – Kalim's Room]

[alarm rings]

Kalim: Nnn…Urgh… What's that noise? I'm still sleepy… Just 5 more minutes…

Kalim: Ah! Wait, I was totally planning to wake up and get ready on my own today 'cause it's my birthday!

Kalim: I'll just grab my hairband, and… Alright, I'm ready to go. Onwards to the washroom!

[Scarabia Dorm – Washroom]

Kalim: Good morning, everyone! Hm? What's up, why are you all looking so surprised?

Kalim: It's my birthday today, right? I set my alarm and woke up all by myself. I can get myself ready today, too.

Kalim: First, I'll wash my face. Urgh, the water is so cold… I'm feeling wide awake now…!

Kalim: Huh? Hot water'll come out if I do this? Woah, I didn't know～ Thanks for telling me.

Kalim: Okay, next I'll do my makeup. …Hm? Skin care? Mmm, I didn't bring any with me today, so I'll just skip it.

Kalim: Right, so makeup… Wait, what am I supposed to start with again? I'm so used to having everything prepared for me.

[students clamor]

Kalim: Meh, I'll just pick something at rand… Eh, you're gonna let me use your moisturizer and milk lotion? 'Cause you're afraid of what could happen later?

Kalim: Oh, you're such a worrywart～ But, thanks. Then I'll try using it.

Kalim: …Oooh, my skin feels so springy now!

Kalim: Okay, so now, I'll finally do my make… Hm? I should apply this foundation to my skin first? And then this next…? Okay.

Kalim: I can work on my eyeshadow, finally. What should I choose today…? This one? Hmmm, is this a little too boring to wear on my birthday?

Kalim: Oh yeah, I'll pick this one! A sibling sent it to me as a birthday gift.

[students clamor]

Kalim: What's wrong, why are you guys all startled? …Huuuh, I didn't know it was a big-name brand.

Kalim: It really is pretty and sparkly. I really like it.

Kalim: I wonder what it's made of. …Oh, it's fine powder made from highly valuable magestones?

[Kalim hugs Scarabia student]

Kalim: Woooah… …You know a ton of stuff, huh!

Kalim: I gotta put out a letter thanking them for this awesome present.

Kalim: Ummm, so I'll pick this color on top of this one, and… How's it look? Sparkly and good, right? Great!

Kalim: All that's left is for me to put balm on my lips and I'm done! Okay, guys, I'm heading back to my room. You all should quickly finish getting ready… Hm!?

Kalim: Oh nooo, my hair's got serious bedhead! What am I supposed to do fix my hair?

[Jamil rushes in and exclaims in panic]

Kalim: Oh hey, Jamil! Yep, I woke up all on my own today. And my makeup's all done thanks to everyone's help. Didn't I do great?

Kalim: But, uh… I'm beggin' you! Can you fix my hair～?

[Main Street]

Kalim: Heeeey, Sebek! You free after classes today?

Sebek: …We already had this conversation yesterday, Kalim-senpai.

Kalim: Oh, did we? Aw man, I was really hoping you'd come to my birthday party, though, Sebek.

Sebek: I-If you're that insistent… I guess I could give you a word or two, at least. Happy Birthday, Kalim-senpai.

Kalim: Thank you, Sebek! I feel like today's gonna be the best, just hearing you say that!

Requested by Anonymous.

[formulafanfics13]

Nothing You Say Can Fix This - MV1, DR3 & LN4 ✨

Masterlist

The hotel was five stars. Marble floors, sparkling water in the lobby, scent diffusers pumping out something like vanilla and eucalyptus in every hallway. The kind of place that cost too much and smiled too wide. The kind of place that made her feel out of place the second she stepped through the doors, even though her family booked it. Even though she was wearing the clothes her mother bought. Even though she’d been good all morning.

She still felt like a stain. It was supposed to be a nice break. A little family trip before university decisions came in. “A treat,” her father had said. He’d said it in that too-soft voice he always used when he didn’t want to set his wife off. The voice that meant: Don’t complain. Don’t react. Just be grateful.

She’d nodded. She always nodded. Always said thank you. Always smiled small and sweet and polite, even when her stomach twisted and her chest felt like it was cracking open.

She had been excited, stupidly, quietly excited. Because the trip lined up with an F1 event. Not a race, but a promotional tour. Just a few drivers staying at the same hotel between media days and car launches. She’d seen the posts online. Max was here. Lando too. Maybe even Daniel Ricciardo. She’d walked past a Red Bull truck earlier and nearly cried.

It mattered. It mattered to her more than anything.

Her love for Formula 1 was carved into her bones. The drawstring of her hoodie had a tiny McLaren keychain clipped to it, she’d bought it with pocket money three years ago and never taken it off. Her nails were painted black with the smallest white racing flag on her thumbs. She wore a friendship bracelet she made herself, knotted with driver numbers. Max’s 1. Oscar’s 81. Daniel’s 3. Lando’s 4.

She was a real fan. Not the casual kind. Not the social media kind. The obsessive kind. The kind who knew the lap times from three seasons ago. Who had memorised pit stop strategies. Who used F1 podcasts like lifelines when the house got too loud.

It was her lifeline. And it was the only thing she had that wasn’t poisoned by her mother. Until now. “Don’t walk away from me.”

Her mother’s voice cut through the quiet hotel corridor like a razor. Sharp. Cold. Commanding. They’d just come down from their room, room 1624, and her mother was already upset. Something about the way she looked. About the hoodie she chose. About how slow she walked.

She flinched, stopping mid-step. “I’m not-I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I wasn’t trying to-”

“You never listen,” her mother snapped, marching up behind her, eyes already burning with fury. “You’re selfish. You’re always selfish. I say one thing and you make it about you. I asked you to do one fucking thing and you couldn't even do that.”

“I thought- I thought you said downstairs at twelve-”

“Don’t you dare talk back to me.”

The lobby was busy. People stared. She felt every glance burn into her skin like hot coals. Her ears rang. She couldn’t breathe. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” she tried, voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. I just- I thought it was twelve-”

“You’re always sorry,” her mom hissed, stepping in close, lips curled. “You think sorry means anything? You ruin everything and then say sorry like it fixes it. Well, it doesn’t. You are a disappointment. Do you know that? You have always been a disappointment.”

The words didn’t just cut. They ripped. And then, almost worse, her mother leaned back, gave this soft, bitter laugh like she was talking to a stranger. “Honestly, I don’t even know why we brought you. You’re just a drain.”

Her stomach churned. Her skin flushed hot. The world spun sideways. “Mom, please-”

“Don’t cry. Don’t cry right now. Don’t you dare play the victim-”

“I’m not. I’m not. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll be better. I’ll try, I swear-”

“I don’t want your swears, I want a daughter who doesn’t fuck up everything she touches.” And then she turned. Stormed off toward the café. Left her there. Standing in the middle of the lobby, shaking.

The moment her mother disappeared, something in her cracked. Her arms came up, hugging her chest. Her nails clawed into the fabric of her hoodie like she might tear it off just to feel clean again. She didn’t move. Couldn’t. She just stood, frozen, trembling, head bowed, trying to stop the tears.

That’s when the elevator behind her opened. And three pairs of eyes landed on her all at once. Daniel Ricciardo. Max Verstappen. Lando Norris. Time fucking stopped. She turned to see them too late.

Danny stepped out first, mid-laugh. Max was behind him, scrolling through something on his phone. Lando had one headphone in, baseball cap low. But they all stopped dead as soon as they saw her.

She was small. Shaking. Eyes glassy. Her fists clenched tight enough to bruise. And her hoodie sleeves had ridden up halfway, revealing a constellation of dark scars — angry scratches, some healing, others fresh. Old burns. Red, raw patches that screamed of trauma.

Danny’s expression dropped. Max’s brow furrowed sharply. Lando blinked. “Woah…”

She saw their stares and panicked. Yanked her sleeves down. Flinched like she’d been caught doing something illegal.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted, too loud, too fast. “Sorry- sorry, I’m okay- I’m sorry-”

“Hey, hey,” Danny said instantly, hands up, soft and slow, like he was approaching a scared animal. “You don’t need to be sorry.”

“I wasn’t- I wasn’t trying to be in the way- I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry-”

“You’re not in the way,” Max said, quietly but firmly. “You’re not.”

She shook her head. “No, I was. I- I always ruin things. I shouldn’t have come-”

Lando took a tiny step forward. Then stopped himself, unsure. “Did someone hurt you?”

That broke her. Tears spilled. Hot, humiliating tears. She turned and ran. Not toward the exit. Not back to her family’s suite. She ran toward the end of the hallway. Behind a service door she’d spotted earlier. Down a side corridor. A dead-end where they stored folded towels and carts of spare sheets.

She collapsed there. Body folding in on itself. Sobs tearing out of her like a scream without sound. She couldn’t breathe. Not again. Not like this. She curled up tight. Nails back in her skin. Blood blooming under the pressure. Her thighs ached. Her arms burned. She hated herself. She hated herself so much she wanted to crawl out of her skin.

She didn’t hear the steps until they were close.

“Please,” she whispered before they could speak. “Please don’t come near me.”

Danny’s voice, soft as a feather. “Okay. We won’t. We’re just here.”

She looked up. All three of them were there. Max leaned against the wall, arms crossed, but his face was worried. Not cold. Not judging. Just… quiet and serious. Danny was crouched, a few feet away, one knee bent, arms resting on it. Lando stayed back, hovering in the doorway, eyes wide with something close to heartbreak.

She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. “I didn’t want you to see me like that,” she said. “I didn’t want anyone to see.”

Danny smiled, soft and broken. “We see you now. That’s not a bad thing.”

She shook her head. “You don’t get it. I’m not… I’m not someone people want to see. I’m just a mess. I always fuck everything up.”

“No,” Max said firmly. “No, you don’t.”

She looked down. Whispers pouring out now, all broken. “I just wanted to see the drivers. I wanted to feel happy for once. I love this sport. I love you all so much. I wear these things so I can pretend I belong to something. I didn’t want- I didn’t mean to make a scene- I’m so sorry-”

Danny wiped his cheek. Quietly. “You don’t have to be sorry for being hurt.”

She said nothing.

Max took a single step forward. Then crouched slowly, staying back, but grounding his voice. “Are you hurt right now?”

Silence. Then a nod. “I’m not safe,” she whispered. “Not really.”

And the three men looked at each other, something dangerous, protective, quietly furious passing between them.

Danny inhaled sharply. “Okay,” he said. “You’re with us now.”

And for the first time in her life, she didn’t say sorry. She just cried.

The world felt like it had narrowed to this one small, fluorescent-lit dead-end, just a girl on the floor and three drivers watching her like she might disappear if they blinked. She kept her arms around her knees, hoodie sleeves pushed down again in a hurry, but the damage was done. They’d seen.

They’d really seen. Not just the swelling in her eyes or the pinked nose or the way she flinched when anyone moved too quickly. They’d seen the layers of skin no one was supposed to. The scarred-over history of every time her pain had nowhere else to go.

Her wrists bore jagged lines. Her forearms had burns, old, white-ringed, faded but still loud. Her thighs, only slightly visible through the curve of her hoodie, were red and inflamed and raw. Some fresh. Some weeks old. Some covered in makeup. Others not even touched.

Danny hadn’t spoken in a full minute. Max was so still he might’ve stopped breathing. Lando stepped forward. Then he crouched. Then he sat. Right on the cold hotel floor, folding his long legs beneath him, settling cross-legged like they were kids in a classroom and not strangers pulled together by something much bigger than they understood. His cap sat backwards now. He’d taken it off and pushed it back on differently, like the moment demanded softness. “Can I hug you?” Lando asked, gently.

She looked up, startled. Her breath hitched.

“You don’t have to,” he added. “I just thought… you looked like you needed one. But I won’t if you don’t want.”

She blinked fast, hot tears welling again. Then she nodded. Small. Tight. Vulnerable. Lando didn’t hesitate. He scooted closer, slowly, like approaching a hurt animal, then opened his arms and waited. Just waited. She uncurled. Crawled forward. And practically collapsed into his chest.

Lando wrapped his arms around her like he’d been built for it. Not too tight, not too careful, but just enough. Enough to say I’ve got you. Enough to say you’re safe here.

She sobbed into his shoulder, her whole body shaking. The kind of sobbing that made her curl in on herself as she clung to his hoodie. Her fingers gripped the back of it like she might never let go. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shhh,” Lando said softly, his hand on her back. “You’re okay.”

“No, I’m not, I’m not okay- I ruined everything- I shouldn’t even be here- I’m such a fan- and now I’ve embarrassed myself in front of all of you and-”

Danny moved closer, slowly. His voice was gentle. “Hey. You didn’t embarrass yourself. Not one bit.”

“But I’m ruined,” she whispered. “I’m supposed to be strong. I wanted to be normal. I wanted to just see you guys and maybe smile and feel happy for once. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this.”

Lando didn’t let go. Max crouched near her again and said nothing for a moment. His eyes had gone glassy too, like the stillness in him was cracking. “Do you wanna show us the bracelet?” Max asked, voice low and kind.

She froze for half a second. Then nodded again. With shaking hands, she pulled her sleeve up again. Slowly this time. Purposefully. The hoodie bunched at her elbow. Her wrist trembled as she held it out.

It was a woven friendship bracelet. Tightly knotted threads. The kind you learn to make on YouTube or in a girl’s bedroom when you can’t sleep. The kind that took time. Care. Meaning. Numbers lined it in order: 1 - 4 - 3 - 81.

She pointed, shyly. “Max… Lando… Daniel… Oscar.”

Max swallowed. His throat bobbed visibly. Danny sat down beside her, one knee bent. “You made that?”

She nodded. “I made it last year. When I was going through a bad time. I wear it whenever I feel like I can’t get through the day. Because when I wear it… it feels like I’m connected to something. Something bigger. Something good.”

Lando was quiet for a second. His arm stayed around her. Then “You are.”

She blinked up at him.

“You are connected to something good,” he said. “You’re connected to this sport. To us. To this whole fucking weird world. And you belong here.”

“But you don’t even know me,” she said, voice barely above a breath. “I’m no one.”

Danny leaned forward. “You’re not no one.”

“You’re someone who loves something so much that it kept you alive,” Max added. “That’s someone.”

She bit her lip, hard. Her eyes closed.

Danny glanced at her arms again, the scars she wasn’t hiding anymore. The burns. The lines that spoke volumes. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t stare. He just looked, and saw, and stayed soft.

“You know,” he said gently, “I had a friend who used to hurt himself. We were teenagers. I didn’t get it back then. I thought he was being dramatic. But now I get it. I get what it means to carry pain you can’t say out loud.”

She looked up slowly. Her lips parted. But she didn’t speak.

“I think,” Danny continued, “it takes a lot more strength to survive it than people realise. And I’m proud of you. Even if we just met. Even if it’s weird to say. I’m fucking proud of you.”

The tears came again. Silent ones. This time they fell down her cheeks without sobs. Just pure release.

Max shifted. Quiet. Unmoving. “What’s your name?”

She whispered it. Barely audible.

Danny smiled. “Well, it’s really, really fucking nice to meet you.”

She laughed a little, wet and broken. “I’m still sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry I made you see that. The scars. I know it’s a lot.”

Lando shook his head. “I’m not sorry I saw them.”

She blinked.

“If I hadn’t seen them,” he said, “we’d have walked past you. We’d have never known. And you’d still be sitting here alone.”

“And you don’t deserve to be alone,” Max added.

She bit her lip again, trying not to cry.

“You’re not a burden,” Lando said. “You’re not a disappointment. You’re not anything your mom said to you.”

She froze.

Her chest stilled. Her breath stopped.

“You heard that?” she whispered.

Danny nodded. “We did.”

“And we’ve got you now,” Lando said. “If you want us to.”

She broke again. A different kind of breaking.

The kind that meant maybe, maybe, she didn’t have to hold all of it by herself anymore.

[souls-sideblogs]

had an idea for a game that combines the themes of undertale/deltarune and In Stars And Time. and possibly others. now going insane about it.

So. imagine a small undertale-like game. You go to a magic place, have a journey with your friends, save the world.

here's twist number one. The playable character- i call her Sorei- is VERY aware that you are controlling them- like Kris from Deltarune.

Here is where the Undertale aspect comes in- just like in Undertale, there are routes. Pacifist and Genocide, mainly. If you go on the Pacifist route, Sorei doesn't really mind you. Only when you keep being nice where she genuinely wants to deck somebody in the face does she have a problem with you- but she doesn't hate you that much.

If your first route is Genocide, however.. She HATES your ass. And horrified from being forced to kill people. So much so, that in an act of hatred, she attacks You.

It crashes the game.

When you load it up, your run is of course reset. But there's one thing.

Sorei is aware of the crash. Nobody else except you and her are. She can crash the game if she doesn't like what choices you make.

So, you go through with the journey either a willing or unwilling pacifist, because Sorei literally forces your game to crash if you try to do Genocide.

And of course, like any good undertale-like, the game resets.

Now comes in the In Stars And Time aspect.

Sorei is aware of the reset. Nobody except you and her is. You play through the game again, every single piece of character dialogue the same, except for Sorei and the reactions to her dialogue. She still doesn't let you do Genocide.

After about 10 or so runs and a gradual descent into insanity, Sorei fucking snaps, tired of going through the same journey again and again and again, looking at her friends which never remember. Her sprite(which is usually turned at a 3/4 angle) turns to look STRAIGHT AT YOU, and

she asks that the next run would be Genocide.

what follows is Sorei starts caring less for her friends, and more for YOU.

what follows is each run Sorei is different. each run is different. You slowly start to diverge from the usual paths, courtesy of Sorei allowing you, and exploring.

What follows is each run, you and Sorei grow closer.

What follows is the game becomes more "sandbox" than "RPG".

What follows is an attachment so inherently toxic it hurts both parties. Sorei attached to you because you're the only one who remembers. You maybe getting attached because your curiosity to 100% the game dragged you way too deep.

What follows is identity issues, carelessness, nihilistic behavior.

There is no real "end" to the game. I imagine if I was developing this game, I would just be adding new content each patch. endless possibilities. Anything can happen if you're bored enough.

(also, I imagine a little scene that happens mid-game. in the middle of the journey, there is a soundproof room- marked as stress relief. Sorei takes this to her advantage, talking with you in that room. making quizzes for you AKA classic multiple-choice questions so you can communicate. Just chatting to you enough resets in. LOVE this moment!!)

WOULD THAT BE FUCKED UP OR WHAT.

kinda thinking of just calling the concept of the game "Endless possibilities"

Here's Sorei's design!

I literally have NO coding skills. and I mean ZERO, so this will stay in my dreams unless some guy just strolls up to me like "hey I'm a game dev I like your idea how about we do it" and lets me win at life. I think I can do sprites well enough?

[cruise-in-your-glow-bus]

loved that creature Perpetua story boss. Asking for more please. Their first date. Perpetua trying to be normal in a restaurant and not just pick up an entire raw steak in his teeth. Taking you to see a horror movie because he’s heard people get scared and cuddle but when you scream he tries to fight the screen for you. Idk. All the good stuff. Mwah 😙

Now that V knows this Sister likes him —

(Likes him well enough to touch him, not just his skin but what he is beneath it, shapeless and formless, an ever-shifting energy with far too many eyes yet still not enough to look at her, as many tentacles as she craves yet still not quite enough to hold her close.)

—it makes it much easier to plan a date.

Easier, but also more difficult, because now, he must get things right.

And that means: The Computer.

“Eh, fratello?” Copia scowls at him, protective and wary as ever when V slinks in through the doorway of his brother’s office. “You want to what?”

V draws himself up as tall and as confident as he can, in this body. “I need to plan a date.”

There’s just so much to consider. Dairy-free options, of course, for her. Meat, of course, for him. He has surmised that shifting his skin and barreling down on all fours to take down a deer is, perhaps, not the way to go to woo a human woman, even though he’s very good at it. No, it must be a nice place, with good food, and lighting that is not too bright. Food both of them can eat.

(There, cradled in her soft arms, as the rain fell down around them, under the sheltering stone, V held her close to his chest and she pressed her ear to the space above what passes for his heart, and he brushed his long, spindly, claw-tipped fingers through her hair and asked her if there were other foods that might kill her. To be trusted with this knowledge, to safeguard her in such a way, made his whole form shiver with delighted responsibility. Of course, then she had confessed there was one meal she might die without, and before he could think to ask her what it was, she was crawling down his body, taking him into her mouth. Beyond that, he hadn’t needed the clarification.)

“Take her to dinner,” Copia had urged him, waving away V’s concerns with a flick of his black-gloved hand. “Go somewhere nice. And a movie. Something scary, so she wants to, eh, get close to you, si?”

Yes, V thinks, yes. Perhaps his brother is wise. It’s a distant perhaps, but… Satan’s mysteries are indeed deep and unknowable.

V extends the invitation to his sweet Sister, who happily accepts. He dresses well, and meets her at the door, nearly dissolving into mist at the sight of her in a fitted, deep green velvet gown. The scoop neck shows off her soft, lovely, delicious breasts to perfection, and the stretchy velvet makes him want to pet the swell of her thighs and hips. V does his best not to leave an ink trail on the floor and keep himself together as he escorts her down to the waiting car.

He makes quiet but intense eye contact with the Ghoul behind the wheel. A shared understanding, creature to creature. Do not fuck this up for me, bro.

Inside the restaurant, they are shown to a secluded booth, high-backed and hidden away. He places his napkin in his lap though he wishes he had her hands in his lap instead, and forces himself into his best behavior. The steak he orders is a little overdone for his liking, but he chews it and forces it down because picking it up and tearing bloody chunks out of it with his teeth is something that surely would get them removed, and end the date early.

Halfway through the meal, she puts her hand on his thigh, and V forgets how to eat entirely, focusing on her mouth instead, the noises she makes as she luxuriates in her own meal. It is only by the infernal mercies of his Lord that his erection does not fight its way out of his pants not unlike Satan rising from the depths of hell itself. But it's a very, very close call.

At the movie theater, she sits beside him and cuddles beneath the arm he extends over her shoulders. She smells lovely, like a thunderstorm, like rain, like wet leaves and beneath it all the scent between her legs that he wants to rub on his face and drown in.

Then as the movie continues, he feels her heart racing for real, tastes her fear on the air, and when he feels her tuck her face against his chest he does not hesitate. V scoops her up into his arms, climbs over the handful of annoyed moviegoers, very nearly lets his wings out as he flees from the darkness of the theater into the lobby.

The sweet Sister is tucked against his chest, crying.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—“

“What do you have to be sorry for?” He is not happy he has caused her distress, but there is a wretched little part of him (to be fair, it’s not that little) that is more than pleased she is in his arms yet, curling her own embrace around him, seeking comfort in him.

“I thought I could—“ she sob-hiccups. “I’m just a big baby about… things like that, I can handle gore and… but the… the kid, I couldn’t..”

Oh, her tender heart is sweeter than anything to him. V holds her and weeps with her, because the film was frightening, and they both knew it was not real, but even things that are not real can cause pain. He knows it well. So, too, does she.

“Precious thing,” he gentles her with kisses to her hair. “You could never disappoint me. Please, if you wish to go, we will go. I will burn this theater to the ground if you—“

She laughs at this, shaking her head, drying her tears against his jacket.

“Please don’t burn the theater down, love.”

Ah, he thinks. This is just like the cows. How noble of her not to deprive others of their joy when she herself feels pain. If she wishes it, he would destroy anything that—

Love.

“Say it again?” V is shameless. He whimpers, and holds her even closer to his body.

She looks up at him, watery and smiling shyly. “Love?”

The poor nineteen year old working behind the concessions stand never fully recovers from the sight that is played out before him. It becomes the stuff of legends, a tall tale, scented in artificial butter and wreathed by muffled movie screaming, draped in crimson velvet curtains. All he knows is one minute, there is a man standing there, holding a crying woman, and the next, some localized black hole of a thing, spinning with black feathery wings and lashing tentacles, head tilted back in a grin filled with entirely too many jagged obsidian teeth, before it takes off like some kind of… there really aren’t any words for it. But the thing can fly, and it cannonballs out the front window, leaving a trail of shattered glass behind and a vague sense of yearning that the concessions stand worker never completely shakes as long as he lives. The next day, he changes his college major to poetry.

In the air, flying through velvet darkness over the neon-lit town below, V holds her close, his precious cargo, and tests the speed of his wings. She loves him. She clings to him, presses kisses to his throat, his collarbones, anything she can reach. She loves him, and he can fly, will fly, as far away from anything that would hurt her, to keep her safe and sheltered, to show her in every way he can that he feels entirely the same, and will until the very unmaking of the world.