#joke's on everyone she ALWAYS has her swag turned on. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

totothewolff · 17 days

Text

Season of Love (8/?)

+18 | Toto x reader fem!teamprincipal, romance, comedy, and some good drama.

Summary: One night on a pier in Monaco, while admiring the sea under the night skies, you tell Toto: "I came to the conclusion that love is simply not meant for me." That's the answer to a question you have been asking yourself for the longest time. But what if he proved you wrong? Author's note: This is a multichapter Toto Wolff x team principal reader fic set along a season of F1. It's a very immersive story full of drivers, team dynamics, races, mystery, and smut. You just bought the Williams team, but nobody really knows who you truly are.

< Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >

The Color of Truth is Blue Arc Chapter 8: Safety car needed

Trigger warning: Child trauma, abuse.

Belgium

And to think Toto felt guilty enough about hiding from you his decision to get back with Susie and try to make things work with her, giving himself the hardest time for it while you had been married this whole time!

The two of you are truly made for each other since none of you have morals.

He wants to grab the helmet on the clear glass coffee table inside his remote office before him and smash it against it, but he contains himself.

Instead, he stands up to pour himself a drink that's almost pure alcohol and just a bit of ice, frantically prancing around the room.

This GP is "hometown" for you guys.

Mathew's assistant has zero problems fitting it into his busy schedule, so he can assist in your name.

It's not that you do much for the team, anyway. You are more like a figure to lift the morale and PR the team and its sponsors around.

Mat looks excited to be at the paddock. He loves the attention he is getting. He remained as far from it as possible for obvious reasons, but now it seems like an excellent time to join in the fun.

Mainly because he feels like it, and when he likes something, he has it.

Now that the real boss is in town, people need to get used to his presence and his long list of shenanigans.

Get a grip!

The weekend at Spa starts with the now-usual FIA meeting. On this occasion, everyone is on time.

The group is gathered in the final rows of chairs in another world's saddest meeting room. As always, they are messing around while they wait for the meeting to begin.

—This carpeting looks out of a 70's Vegas casino —Seb mentions, looking around his feet.

—It's giving "cheap motel," —Charles adds.

—It's giving "crime scene" —Samanta joins in.

Toto and Fred enter the room, beverages in hand, gossiping.

Woaff! Lewis notices that Toto looks rough. His hair is messy, and big dark circles are under his eyes. Also, he seems reddish on the cheeks. Is he drinking at work?! Lewis recognizes that kind of blush on him.

—It's giving "once someone died in here" —Checo jokes as he pictures a silhouette drawn with chalk while staring at the floor.

—It's giving "I think I saw this place in Law & Order" —Millie says.

—How many hours of L&O have you seen? —Mick changes the topic, knowing Millie is a fan.

—More than needed —she admits.

—So you weren't joking when you said, "I go and put Law & Order on any device before a race as my race ritual"? —George looks at her, eyes widening and holding a giggle.

Sam interrupts as Millie is about to answer: —Elvis has arrived.

All their heads turn to the door as Matthew swags in.

—Armani ani ani ani —Millie sings Megan The Stallion style. —He looks so stylish in that suit! Hot!

—He is your boss, dude! —Oscar says and looks at her, chin up.

—And married to my wife! Who's also your boss. So more respect, please —Lando adds.

—Does that make you her father? —Sebastian jokes, pointing at the blonde.

—Are you Millie's dad?! —Lewis joins in, acting shocked.

—Dad?! —Millie turns in his chair to face Lando, wide eyes and arms reaching for a hug.

—You all stupid —Sam laughs, enjoying the exchange.

Mathew being the annoying ass he is, goes straight to her and drops in the chair next to Sam, placing his arm around her shoulders. —Amelia, hi! —Mat addresses her with a big-ass smile and stunning blue eyes staring at her.

—AMELIA?!! —everyone but Millie lets out in shock.

—How lovely to see you! —Sam greets him with a "fuck you!" gaze but answers with the sweetest voice.

—Yes, that's her middle name, you didn't know?! —Mat asks the group, pretending to be shocked, knowing she hates that name.

Then, the FIA deputy enters and asks Mathew to join him upfront since they are addressing the whole Lenkov situation and the new safety on paddock protocols with the drivers for the first time.

—Well, now that everything is clear, I will leave the microphone to Mr. De Vos to introduce himself...

—Yes, take off your shirt and tell us —Lando jokes in a low voice, next to Millie, discreetly bumping her and laughing low.

Those fuckers.

Everyone looks bored as Fred goes forever after grabbing the mic to discuss the car skidding due to fluids and oil spills on the pitlane.

—No, you guys. I like this topic! I identify with it since I'm also fluid —Millie adds, all confident and open.

—Genderfluid? —Seb smiles big at her, eyes sparkling at her gutsy statement.

—I love the gender fluids —Lando jokes, with a cheeky innuendo as usual.

—I wouldn't mind some gender fluids instead of this, mate —Dani adds.

—I would have the gender fluids, please! —Mick jokes, pretending to raise his hand.

—I'm feeling my gender-fluids right now —Millie colorfully adds while looking at Mathew.

—What fluids is he talking about?! —George asks, serious, not recalling watching spots or brushes on the pitlane, unable to hear Fred accurately and utterly unaware of the jokes around.

—The genders —Seb and Millie answer simultaneously before bursting out laughing, watching a perplexed George.

Everyone in the room turns their heads to them.

—Oh shit!

As soon as the doctors inform you that you can leave the hospital, your team moves you to the Manor, where Mathew insists you take a break and rest before putting a foot back on the paddock, much to your complaints.

He lets you know he will handle it while you are gone, and not enough "I'm fine!" on your part makes him change his mind.

Nothing good will come out of this with him there, you know that!

The press is desperate to get an interview out of Mathew, and the photographers already love him, a cloud of lens following him around.

With those looks, impeccable suit, and swag, who wouldn't want to snap his picture?

But his security has him covered.

A new and hot Sky Sports reporter approaches him, and he lets her slide in, with a microphone in hand and a cameraman following her.

Mathew gives her an exclusive interview, instantly switching to his most charming, funny, and sweet persona. He shines under the lens, showing his big, bright smile with gorgeous teeth.

Mat reaches the reporter's ear when the interview finishes and the cameraman lowers the lens. —Tower Suite 1898 The Post, 7:00 p.m., don't be late. I'm fucking you in dark lingerie and ankle-strap black high heels.

She nods, all blushing, knees shaking at his invitation.

Okay, Toto can't resist it anymore. He promised he wouldn't do it, but he can't. It's driving him nuts.

He opens his iPad and smashes the keywords on the Google search bar, typing "Mathew De Vos."

A ton of links and information show up.

"Cambridge Faculty of Law Board Member, Masters in Corporate Law, PhD. in Law, former ONU ambassador, former Interpol Associate"

Toto closes those taps after reading them and moves to the next more frivolous ones.

"#4 on World's Richest Men, #2 Billionaires Under 30, #2 GQ's Stylish CEOs"

In all his status, Mathew appears married, and in most of his interviews, he always mentions his wife, you, which hurts him.

Okay, but what does Matthew do right now? Why buying an F1 team? There's nothing linking him or you to the sport. Could it be just for a hobby?

"Current investor and CEO of Little Heroes Global: Safeguarding Minors Around the Globe."

Okay, there's still no connection. Maybe it was just a good business deal?

Toto keeps reading and then moves to trashier, gossipy sites.

Le Soir

Brussels, 2004.

Tragedy strikes De Vos family as helicopter crash kills parents, leaving 16-year-old son heir.

A devastating helicopter crash in the rolling hills of Belgium has claimed the lives of Victor and Lina De Vos, leaving their 16-year-old son, Mathew, the sole heir to their vast family fortune.

According to eyewitnesses, the De Vos family was on a routine flight from their estate in Wallonia to Brussels when the helicopter suddenly lost control and crashed in a nearby field. The accident occurred at approximately 10:45 a.m., with rescue teams arriving on the scene within minutes.

"It was a scene of utter devastation," said Alfred Van der Meer, a local farmer who witnessed the crash. "I saw the helicopter go down and then... grey clouds."

Victor De Vos, a wealthy businessman and billionaire, was 45 years old at the time of his death. His wife, Lina, was 42.

The couple was known for their philanthropic efforts and various charitable organizations throughout Belgium.

Mathew De Vos, 16 years old at the time of the accident, is now the heir to his father's business empire and the family's Manor. The exact value of the estate is unknown, but insiders close to the family suggest that it could be worth hundreds of millions.

"We are still trying to come to terms with this tragedy," said Michel Droveb, his godfather, a family friend, and business associate. "But we are all relieved that Mathew is safe and will be able to carry on his parents' legacy."

As news of the tragedy spread, tributes poured in from around the world. "The De Vos family was a shining example of generosity and kindness," said King Leopold II of Belgium. "Their loss is a great blow to our nation."

Funeral services are scheduled for next week at the St. Michael's Cathedral in Antwerp.

In the meantime, Mathew De Vos has been taken under the wing of his family's trusted advisors and is expected to continue his parents' business endeavors.

As he begins his journey as one of the world's youngest billionaires, Mathew De Vos has vowed to honor his parents' memory by using his wealth to make a positive impact on the world.

"We will continue to give back to our community and support those in need," he said in a statement. "My parents would want nothing less."

The exact cause of the crash is still under investigation.

Toto finishes reading the old entry on the news site, a bit pale and shocked. That may explain some of Mathew's attitude.

He locks his iPad after indulging himself too much and thinks it's enough. Toto has more important things to do.

As soon as you are allowed to leave the bed, you go visit Mat's mom since you miss her very much. You walk there barefoot, feeling the cold wood and stone floors of the Manor all the way to the next wing.

She is peacefully lying in bed. The massive room is full of bright natural light, and a fresh and stunning bouquet of her favorite flowers is placed on the nightstand next to her, filling the room with a delicious scent.

You want to tell her all about your new life and the people you have met, and as you share everything about Toto with her, you get emotional and overwhelmed.

So when Mathew arrives there after searching for you, he finds you crying while holding her limp hand.

He comes closer and sits at the border of his mother's ICU hospital bed, placing himself between it and the armchair where you are sitting at.

The room remains quiet, just the sounds of the life support pieces of equipment keeping his elderly mom alive, in a coma, but still.

He tenderly kisses her mother's temple before facing you, leaning his body in to wipe the tears sliding down your cheeks.

—Tell me what's hurting you to fix it? —compassion and care fill his eyes.

—This has no fix. Damage is done —you stare down at your hands before adding: —But going out to dinner can help me feel better.

He nods. —I know the place.

Sam joins you for breakfast at the Manor the following morning, where you tell her every detail about the plan, now being able to, and how it went.

—Then Pascal played one for the team again! —she says before grabbing a portion of her pancakes.

—I'm worried about him. I hope he is safe and well. —you express with deep concern, much to Mathew's dislike.

—Oh, he is. He let me know days ago —Mat says in the most nonchalant, neutral voice while picking his fruits.

—What?! Why didn't you tell me?! I've been worrying all these past days! —now you sound exasperated at him.

A "here we go!" face sets on Sam.

—You needed to rest! No further point! —Mat continues, still not caring, as if nothing was wrong.

—Stop telling me what I need! —you raise your voice at him, now you are mad!

He looks up and stares at you with an icy look but doesn't reply; he continues having breakfast as if nothing is happening.

One day, you will lose it with Mathew's controlling and psycho moves.

You regain your composure and add: —This can't keep happening! I need to know the things that involve me right at the moment!

—Understood —it's all he says.

—And what about Lenkov? Any whereabouts? —Sam says, pushing topics, used to witnessing you fight.

You text Seb to let him know you are at the Manor now.

—I'm glad! But where's that?! Do you own a manor? It doesn't sound much like your style! Ah, and thanks for answering back!

—Sorry for the delay in replies! I was resting. Shit! I forgot you don't know about it. Let me ask Mat if you can pop by. He is very particular about who is allowed here.

—No worries! I can ask him myself. I'm watching him right here.

Seb puts his phone inside his red tracksuit pocket, scooters down the pitlane to Mat beside Michael, and chats casually with the men in German before asking him the question.

—Wait, Seb!

Seb doesn't read your text. Seb takes Mathew entirely by surprise.

Mathew allows him to visit you, sensing Vettel is kind and has some guts to reach him.

When you return to the Manor, feeling tipsy after drinking a lot in that sports bar where you watched the race in secret.

Your heart sank every time Toto appeared on screen, looking as handsome as ever but without acting playful in front of the camera.

Sebastian is already in the old drawing room, waiting for you and chatting with Mat in a friendly way, which is rare. Damn, time flew by!

—And there she is! Hello, drunk! —Seb greets you as soon as you enter the room.

Mathew sends you a cold look, which you defiantly ignore.

—Bee guy! —you reach Seb and give him a warm hug. —Podium, heh!

—I know! Third place! Not that bad for this old man?! Tell Millie to leave me to win sometime, one win this season, pretty please! —Seb smiles big at you.

—No way, Jose! I'm sorry for making you wait with this one! —you point to Mat with your thumb.

—Alcohol produces brain damage, and you need cold water and food! I see you two at the dining table.

Mat exits the room, annoyed; he hates alcohol, cigars, drugs, sugar, and everything that's unhealthy for the body.

—Does he always swags all moody like that? —Seb asks, following him with his eyes, raising his eyebrows.

—Oh yeah —you let out a giggle.

You love Vettel.

—And those are your parents, right? —Seb asks, observing the massive regal oil painting of a family of three hanging on the wall by the exquisite wooden crafted stairs before sensing the atmosphere changing.

He got offered a tour of the Manor.

—Yes —Mat answers solemnly, you two standing near Seb while he leans to peek. All alcohol is out of your system by this point.

—Do the eyes follow you around as you walk past? —Vettel jokes in the most Sebastian way possible.

A smile forms on Mathew's lips. —It sometimes shakes too. You know when father disapprovals! —he pats Seb a bit too hard on the back.

—It's a bit too much, isn't it? —you join in. Shruging your nose, looking at the old painting.

—Yeah —both men agree, letting out in unison.

—You were such a cute kid. What happened?! —Seb teases Mat.

—Life, life happened to me —he answers, more honest than joking, oblivious to Seb, clear to you.

Why is Mat acting open and friendly with him?

—Ta-dah! This is my room! —you invite Seb to hang out in a more private space, taking him to the last spot of the tour.

Mathew had already left to the wing of the Manor that is his. He always hides in there; sometimes, you even forget he exists or that you were supposed to live with him.

—So this is where you grew up? —Seb is curious and naturally funny, so he is already playfully peeking into your drawers, looking at the Polaroids on the wall, and checking the decor. —Oh wow, baby Sam!

He points to a picture where "kid Sam" and a younger Alexi, Mat, and you appear.

—Yeah, that's about when I arrived here, and no, I didn't grow up here —you shake your head several times. —I wish!

Now, Seb is confused. Mat just told him you two lived together "since you were kids." —Then, where?

—Here, take a sit —you invite him to hang on the sofa in front of the big stony fireplace as it lights the huge room. The night is fully set, and the air in the countryside is cold. —Bare along...

This story is not a happy one.

You will never forget that big old mansion in the woods where you grew up. Your oldest memories start there at age four.

You had no idea who your mom was; you had never met her, only your nanny, who cared for you and your baby sister, a cute five-month-old girl, a chubby, healthy baby with pink cheeks.

You loved holding her; she always wrapped her fingers around your thumb and tried to get your long, shiny hair into her mouth, which made you giggle.

You let her play with your teddy bear; she is the only one allowed to grab "bon-bon."

You love wrapping big bowties around its plushie neck, and your papa occasionally gifts you colorful and shiny ribbons.

Every day, you take lessons with a rigorous and cruel governess who teaches you manners and scolds you when you do things wrong, calling you an animal and a brute whenever she loses her patience with you.

You don't like how she treats you, but you don't notice anything wrong with it. It feels ordinary to you.

The following day, your nanny wakes you up early and tells you they have important guests coming over, and you must look pretty to welcome them.

She combs your hair roughly and, in a rush, pulls it into a tight bun as instructed while you are on your feet on top of the makeup chair.

She puts you into a puffy chiffon dress and starts applying you makeup, which you love. You like all those things: hairstyles, dresses, makeup, nails, glitter, and sparks.

When you see yourself in the mirror, you look like a doll that belongs on a shelf as you stick your tongue out and make silly faces at your reflection.

She then takes you downstairs to your favorite room of the large house. The playroom is colorful and has many toys to play with; it's a shame you always play alone.

You go inside and grab a couple of plushies and a plastic tea set when you notice several stern and tall men watching you.

You feel a little bit shy under their stares; among them is a man who looks intensely at you.

He is a tall, silver-haired, muscular man with captivating eyes and a dangerous smirk that could charm the devil himself.

Standing next to him are gunmen and two large menacing dogs guarding him.

Another group of gentlemen join him before they all enter your dad's office, a forbidden ground for you.

After a while, everyone exits the house's entrance door and leaves, but the silver-haired man stays longer.

You have seen him before; he is your daddy's boss.

Sometimes, they have meetings, and whenever he is at the house, they get you all cute-looking and rushed downstairs.

He always asks for you and handles you expensive gifts every visit.

You get distracted by him bringing you cake; all you want is a slice. The merengue looks delicious and smells like vanilla.

Your dad and the man come closer to you. He greets you brusquely, caressing your cheek.

Now that you are near him, you look terrified at the two scary Dobermans monitoring your every move.

—They don't bite unless I command them to —He looks at the muscular animals. —So be a nice girl —he jokes with you.

You reach closer to your dad's leg, trying to hide behind it, but he neither pats nor reassures you.

—Status on her training? —the silver-haired man asks.

—She is about to start it, sir.

—When it gets done, send her to me —he instructs with an authoritarian voice but nonchalant.

He brushes his hand on your hair before he heads out of the big, beautiful wooden entrance door.

As the days go by, you start to spend more and more time studying with your governess.

That cruel woman seems to be under such stress of quickly teaching you many things, so she behaves even more viciously.

Your German, French, and English lessons feel too much for your little brain. No six-year-old should feel this pressure on herself; all you want to do is play.

You get moody and start to cry, not being able to take it more; you are tired!

Suddenly, you feel a painful sting on your cheek; your dad slapped you hard for whining. —Stop crying, behave! —He commands you.

And you do so.

You are in the staff's kitchen, sitting on a high barstool, legs swinging in the air, while the cook prepares the meal.

You ask her to make you a sandwich, but she tells you you are no longer allowed bread or carbs.

That kitchen leads outdoors to the massive gardens by a backdoor; it's a vast property.

Another prominent building sits right across the field, in the distance, behind some bushes and trees.

You are not allowed out, and you are not allowed to go near there.

But you are a curious and strong-willed girl, after all.

You peek through the window and see two little boys and girls walking from room to room inside the other property. You want to go and play with them, as you are always among grown-ups.

The cook follows your gaze and rushes you out of the kitchen and back to the living area.

It's late at night, and you wake up to the sound of your stomach growling.

The house is so quiet, as everyone is sleeping, and it's the perfect moment for you to sneak to get ice cream.

You risk going to the kitchen after your curfew because you feel hungry from the small portions they have given you lately.

For some reason, they have been measuring and weighing you daily.

You navigate the large house's hallways, avoiding making a sound. Your steps softly creak on the wooden floors unnoticed, which is why you are barefoot, which is also not allowed.

You finally make it to the kitchen and, on your tiptoes, take the big bucket of ice cream out of the freezer and to the countertop.

You are short for your age, which makes you look younger and even more adorable. You are such a cute, tiny girl.

You hop on the stool and eat the chocolate ice cream straight from the bucket with a big spoon, licking it; chocolate goes all over your collar and lips.

If the governess saw you doing this, she would lock you in the closet. She had done it before and made you spend an entire night there for disobedience.

You cried hard for your dad. That place was cold and dark, but he never showed up.

You catch movement with the corners of your eyes outside the large window into the garden's bushes, the same window from which you peeked out earlier.

A small shadow moves quickly, and you get a bit scared, but curiosity makes you reach closer to the window's glass, your nose almost touching it. It feels cold, it must be freezing outside.

You catch a small girl hiding in the bushes and dropping to the dirt quickly as she notices you.

The door to the outside is just steps away. What if you go help her? She looks distressed and must be cold!

You know you are not allowed to, yet you go.

You expect the door to be locked, but you open it easily.

You hear a soft beep as you set foot outside on the deck. Then the alarm goes off, and the motion detection lights turn on; they are so strong they blind you.

You watch the little girl run to the forest as fast as she can. You try to go after her when you feel a firm grip pulling you from the hair and throwing you back into the kitchen.

You hit the floor hard, sliding in.

You see a pair of black combat boots about to kick you in the stomach when your dad's voice screams very loud.

—Don't get her scratch! She's valuable! —the man immediately stops mid-kick with a yes, sir.

You watch the other guards drag violently the little girl back inside the other building.

You barely hear her indistinct screams in the distance. As you lose sight of her, you think she is begging for her mother, and then the door gets violently slammed close in front of you and locked down this time.

You don't understand what is happening but remember feeling freaked out that day.

You then recall how scared you used to feel every single day back in those times.

They leave you for two days inside that dark closet with no food and no water as punishment.

The following month, the governess tells you she has finished her job with you but informs you that your training is set to start.

You don't get what she means by "training."

Then, she leaves the study room and returns with a boy about two years older than you.

You quickly get happy to see someone close to your age and not another adult. You have been raised among them.

The boy looks rigid and lost in the eye as he approaches you.

When he is standing before you, he pulls you closer and kisses you on the mouth. You giggle at the sensation. It feels funny!

But you see nothing wrong with this, you like the contact since you have never been held like that.

These lessons last for several weeks. They get weirder and more touch-y each time.

When winter arrives, it starts to snow outside. You are cozy sleeping in bed, hugging your teddy plushie under your warm blanket.

The fireplace creeks and heats the room when you hear heavy footsteps outside your bedroom door before it opens.

A big, bulky guy picks you up from the bed, still wrapped in the blanket, waking you up. He carries you down the hallway, heading with you down the stairs.

There, you see your dad, for the last time, on your way to the SUV with tinted black windows parked right outside the front door.

It turns out that man wasn't your father, nor was this your actual home.

You remember feeling increasingly nervous as the car gets further away from the property. All you think about is Bon-bon and the baby.

You cry.

You are sent to the Serbian ring, where your price is high for obvious reasons. You overhear the man who takes you there sound delighted at how high your bid went.

You don't understand a thing.

Two days later, they fly you to a high-end hotel bungalow in Bali, where an older man expects you.

They make him read some papers with terms and things he is suggested not to do to you since this type of man doesn't like the phrase "not allowed to," and he agrees.

The chaperone then closes the room door behind you, leaving you alone with him.

You don't know what to do next, so you watch him remove his tie and shoes as he points you to the bed.

As an obedient and collected girl, you get in there.

This man paid in advance for an entire year of your services and exclusivity, which is an enormous amount of money.

They make you meet with him always in different countries and locations until he gets bored of your body and moves to the next younger new girl.

After that, they return you to the market, and you visit the ring again, this time in Turkey.

You were supposed to live in several security houses when you weren't traveling around the globe to meet your owners, which never happened to you.

They rotate them constantly, and cameras and microphones are everywhere, so the other girls and boys cannot interact.

It doesn't matter much anyway.

With time, you learn that the more money you make them, the better things go for you.

Soon, you discover you are one of the privileged ones since Lenkov, the silver-haired man from childhood, is infatuated with you and asks for you whenever he wants you.

He is a scum.

—If you weren't so good for my business, I do have you living here with me full time like one of my dolls —the fit older man tells you while inhaling coke from the tits of a busty teenager.

While another underage girl like you sits in his lap wearing a tiny bikini, five of them are in there fighting for his attention and petting him all around at his open-floor mansion by the sea in Punta Cana, where he currently lives. You are the youngest one in there.

Lenkov has many places and doesn't stay in one longer, and the girls he likes for his sick enjoyment only get to follow him all around.

It's a better type of prison to be at; you get to learn, and it's way better than getting bid off in the rings.

At least with him, you know what to expect.

Lenkov hosts one of his infamous parties as a goodbye to Punta Cana, which is full of powerful and corrupt guests.

Drugs, alcohol, and a bunch of underage girls and boys are there at their disposition and for everyone's enjoyment, all if they pay, of course!

Bricks of money and bags full of rolls are on several surfaces.

After your previous owner passed away in a very sketchy way, you are pretty sure he got himself poisoned.

Lenkov ordered that they broght you so he can enjoy your body during the weekend and for your attendance at the party since a couple of Arab princes and some Serbian moguls will be there, and he wants you to work your way with them.

A very stoic, tall, and older man in an expensive suit sits, legs crossed, in the expensive armchair next to Lenkov.

He looks you up from afar, his eyes traveling every inch of your skin.

You know how to read a room by this point in your life. So you get closer and slowly twirl for him.

—She —he turns to tell the silver-haired man, looking at you, and Lenkov nods, allowing it.

There he was, your new owner.

God, you hated that word. You weren't a thing to be own; you were a person, even if they didn't treat you like one.

When your chaperone opens the door to a massive suite in Dubai, you are surprised to be greeted by a tall, gorgeous, muscular man with piercing blue eyes, dark, wavy hair, and great skin.

He is big and athletic. You would find him extremely attractive if he wasn't this sick person.

After being with many 50-plus-year-olds, a 33-year-old feels young enough for you. Even if he is not, you are only 14 by this point.

Well, you have been told you are.

Since you don't own a passport or credentials, you don't know exactly who you are, how old you are, where you come from, or anything about yourself.

He agrees to the terms presented to him, and then, as usual, you are left alone with him.

Either they go all over you immediately, asking you to take your clothes off in an instant or foreplay a bit before demanding you to go straight to the bed.

But none of the listed happens this time.

He returns to his laptop, where he seems busy working. Of course, he didn't forget about you. He was totally ignoring you.

It's always tricky with these guys! They are often arrogant, violent, controlling, or power-obsessed and challenging to read or act around.

But, unfortunately for you, you have enough experience dealing with all those types.

So you take off your dress, revealing your tiniest lingerie, and against your will, as usual, approach him, showing off your body.

You get into his lap, placing yourself on his crotch.

You don't want problems, and you know what happens to girls who get a "bad review" to say it like that.

He stops reading what's on his screen, getting distracted by you, then turns to grab his jacket and offers it to you. —No need for any of that —he tells you.

And you put his coat on.

It looks so big on you, covering your whole body. You move to sit on the sofa near him.

Dead silence.

He couldn't care less about you.

—Sir, I'm all okay? Is there a way I can pleasure you? If I'm doing something wrong, please let me make it up to you —you freak out as you notice the time of your session is running out; you don't want trouble.

—I didn't hire you —he says, still typing and looking busy. That takes you off guard. He looks straight at you with those fierce blue eyes, frowning.

—Pardon?

—My sick father gave you to me as a "forgive me" present —he lets out with disdain. —I don't get how he is okay with this stuff. I'm not too fond of paid girls or STDS. I'm not into the young ones.

—I'm very clean, I get tested all the ti-

—So, how does this shit work? —he interrupts you, not caring about what you are saying. —I read on paper that a titanium package was paid. Even the name sounds absurd!

You look at him collected, avoiding saying a dumb thing, being extremely careful with each word.

—It means I'm exclusive to your enjoyment, and you have me ten sessions before acquiring the package again if I please you, that I promise I-

—I see —he again interrupts your rehearsed speech.

You hear soft knocks in code on the door. It means Fran, your chaperone, of course you know that isn't his real name, is waiting for you.

You get your dress back on, and he walks you to the door.

Before reaching it, he suddenly pushes you into a rough and intense kiss, messing your hair and fucking your lipstick, biting open your lip, and, in a powerful movement, tearing your dress a little bit, taking you by surprise.

Fran opens the door at your lack of response and quickly apologizes, witnessing some of the action. —I didn't mean to interrupt, sir.

—No worries, I'm done with her —he says deadpan, pushing you out with a big slap in the ass.

This goes on for the subsequent sessions.

He doesn't touch you more than what is required to pretend you two did the thing. He is clever at keeping appearances.

—So, as long as I have you under my power, I can take my time to have our "sessions," right?

—Yes, sir, but not that much.

—Good, that gains us little time.

He asks you one night while looking out of the panoramic windows, sipping his coñac.

Damn, he is muscular and hot.

—Feel free to use the suite amenities. You are not allowed out of the room, correct?

—Oh no, I'm not —you confirm quickly, not wanting to get in serious trouble. Guards parol you, so there's no way you could get out even if you tried.

He renews his package with you without touching or disrespecting you in any way.

Every time you meet him, you expect him to ask you to return the favor. Your life experiences have made you wary and distrustful.

But he doesn't.

—Yes?! —he looks your way. You have been staring at him for five minutes. He is not the most tender-speaking person.

—I'm sorry, I wasn't, I-

—It's alright, you can talk.

—No worries, you seem busy.

—Go straight to the point or remain shut up —he dislikes wasting time.

—Why are you doing this? —you venture to ask. —I'm not trying to sound ungrateful. I'm more than thankful to you, sir.

—Don't call me sir; it makes me feel dirty —he drops himself on the sofa beside you, giving himself time off from work, stretching. —I get what you are going through. I'm in a prison of my own, too.

You remain quiet a little bit, pensive to open your mouth, knowing you can trust no bitch, but this feels different. So you trust your gut. —What do you mean?

—My father got my family, me included... —he stands to pour himself another glass of coñac and offers you one. You aren't allowed to drink unless they offer you, so you accept it. —...dragged into his illicit business, sadly, we have no way out now.

—I think I met him once from afar. No disrespect, but he seems harsh.

—You can disrespect him all you want. I hate my father; he is a scumbag, he got my brother locked up and murdered in jail, and my mother is also dead, thanks to him. So now it's just us.

Silence.

—Are you in any danger? —you ask, honestly concerned.

—Worried about your situation?

—No si- shit! —you quickly correct yourself. —Sorry, what do I call you?

—Pascal, that's my real name, by the way. As you can see, I don't care much, and yes! I'm always in danger, not imminent, but still, it's a dangerous game I'm playing.

—You are kind to me, that's why I asked. I don't know my real name, so I have no name you can call me.

—I can think of a couple of ones —he makes an innuendo, and by your shocked expression, he quickly adds. —I'm joking! I'm kidding!

You laugh for the first time in God knows how long.

Knocks come on the door.

That goes on until Lenkov becomes possessive of you and warns him that this is the last time Pascal is allowed to acquire your package, and he won't steal you away from him.

—I'm not planning to do so, Lenkov, it's just that pussy is so good, and I don't know how to quit it —he lies.

Lenkov smiles at him with an "I get it" expression before asking him for an obscene amount of money.

Pascal agrees to it, but only if he is allowed to have you for more time, for an entire year.

—A million, and it's a deal.

—But if she stays with me in London...

—She will be not allowed out of the apartment, I will place snipers, and if you try to trick me, I will slight her throat in front of you and then yours. A million and a half, and it's done.

Pascal pays for it.

He welcomes you to your new home with a glass of champagne.

—To the birthday girl.

—What?!

—Today is your birthday. According to your birth certificate, here, it's your gift.

—Is this real?! —tears fill your eyes. He nods, and then Pascal looks taken aback when you give him the warmest hug he has ever received.

He doesn't know what to do until he relaxes and hugs you back.

—I could sleep with you right now! —you say, and you quickly add by the shocked expression he gives you. —I'm joking! I'm kidding. Ah! I'm one year older than I thought! But how did you get this?!

—I have something to confess to you, and it's the reason why I moved you here with me —he sounds serious and looks stern; he hesitates before continuing.

You start thinking about the worst possible outcome. Here comes the part that goes bad for you.

—A few months ago, I made contact with Interpol.

—Oh, please, I'm, look, I, I rather not —you mumble and start to panic, fearing for your life.

—I see. I may die after this —Pascal lets out.

—You what?! —you panic.

—It doesn't matter. Yeah, it's better you stay out of it.

—If it threatens your life, then I'm in! —you sound so assured that he looks shocked.

—Why would you...? —he starts asking.

You jump in. —Risk my life for yours? Anyday! You are the only good thing that has ever happened to me —Pascal looks at you with an expression you cannot read.

—This guy I got in contact with has been pursuing Lenkov for some time and plotting his downfall.

—This guy?! Wasn't the Interpol?!

—Well, yes, he used to work for them...

—Oh god, how are you sure he is not setting you up and wh- —you panic again.

He calms you down and quickly explains. —He is the most annoying guy ever, but it's legit. He started his own organization and has the best of the best working for him, and that's why he moved the Lenkov case with him and left Interpol to work it on his own; it's personal to him.

—Have you met with him?

—Just on the phone, many, many times.

—I don't like this.

—I promise you he is legit and has resources. He was the one who got me your birth certificate. All he is asking from us in return is to act as a witness in case all goes well and we get Lenkov on trial.

—And what's in this for you? I'm sorry for judging you, but my life has taught me some lessons. You aren't in this just because you want my freedom, right?

—To whistleblow my father and expose his business with Lenkov, and make them both rot in prison.

—You are going to get us murdered!

Pascal starts worrying about you bailing out, judging your fear and panic.

He is getting ready to start working you out when you suddenly calm down.

—But what do I have to lose? This is no life, and if I can help to protect you, other girls, and boys and gain my freedom along the way, I will.

Lenkov sends people to check on you two occasionally without previous notice, trying to catch in any weird move and have an excuse to move you back with him.

It comes to his attention that according to the people he sends there, they never seem to interrupt you in sexual activities, enraging him.

You are cozy on the couch watching TV when Pascal's deep voice grabs your attention.

—Listen, whenever someone from my "dad's business," aka my job, comes here, or we aren't alone, no matter if it's the help service, I need you to play along and pretend we are in a sexual relationship. We need to keep appearances and have the word spread.

—Why? —you start feeling concerned. —Did something happen?

—Don't stress about it —he dismisses it. —Just so you know.

—Y/N, you are right. You are not being paranoid —you have been feeling observed by people looking from the building across for some days now. —Probably Lenkov moved some people to one of the apartments in front. They are watching us now.

Pascal pretends to enjoy a drink while looking out of the floor-to-ceiling windows to the skyscraper in front of yours.

—Moving out is no option for us —you add, feeling nauseous. Months have passed since you started living peacefully with Pascal at this place you now call home.

—We need to engage more, then —he sounds grim.

—If we close the curtains but keep the lights on, maybe we could dry hump for them. Silhouettes may work.

—Have the men you have been with ever cared enough to close the curtains?

—No. I get it. It's going to look staged. They won't go away till they make sure.

He lets an exasperated sigh and smashes his glass on the floor.

You instinctively jump. —Listen, I have done it before, we could... —you go all red.

—No.

After several days of noticing him consumed by the situation's stress, you cross the distance between you and gift him your first kiss.

Obviously, it's not your first physical kiss, but the first one that feels real.

You kiss him all the way to the bedroom.

Where Pascal makes love to you in a missionary position, all flesh in full display and bodies moving in rhythm for them to witness.

After you cowgirl him, he takes you in doggy style till you cum from pleasure for the first time ever while moaning his name.

You completely forget that you were doing it for the men watching you at a distance, secretly shooting photos without you noticing before they have them printed and delivered to Lenkov.

There is a slight shift after that night.

The interactions between you two become more tender; there are more accidental touches and sweet looks, along with some cuddling, but nothing sexual ever happens again after the Lenkov people leave you alone.

Not even a kiss.

Three months later, as you grow impatient every day since you know your year agreement is near its end, Pascal informs you that this guy wants to implement the plan.

Next week, a massive raid on the Lenkov rabbit holes, properties, and security homes will occur. People are going to get arrested and youngsters rescued. You are on the list.

The difference with you is that you will immediately be moved to Belgium to the Little Heroes Global headquarters to testify and for them to prepare you for court.

It's a Wednesday morning, the first time you talk to this guy on the phone.

He sounds young, but his tone is too solemn. He informs you that Pascal was the critical piece he needed to deploy his long, elaborate plan; he and his team have spent years trying to get Lenkov.

Now that you have all the knowledge and information he needs to take him down, it is all good to go.

It's the first of many calls you two exchange, and you eventually become incredibly familiar with his voice.

The day that "Operation Lina" arrives, you are so nervous.

Everything is going according to the plan.

But then, as a lot of commotion happens outside your apartment door, Pascal bolts to his feet and places you behind his body, protecting you.

A SWAT team bursts in, knocking the door down. Pascal looks at you, confused at the violence, but you see him smile for the first time in all the time you have met him.

—That's the sound of your freedom —he addresses you, briefly resting his temple on yours. You want so desperately to kiss his lips.

Then the SWAT team moves quick on their feet, guns up to approach you, or that you think so.

Unexpectedly, they pinned Pascal in a violent move against the floor. He hits his head hard in the process.

—What are you doing!? —you start screaming and kicking as they push you out of the way. You go insane as they keep dragging him away from you. —LEAVE HIM YOU FUCKERS! You are hurting him! This wasn't part of the plan!

They yank him down the apartment entrance hallway, and you fight your way to follow along, demanding to know where they are taking him, screaming and kicking.

—PASCAL! —You are desperately calling for him at the top of your lungs.

When you feel a hand softly rub you on your shoulder, you turn around, expecting the worst, to see Lenkov standing there, so you violently remove the hand from you and, with all your force, push the guy against the hallway wall.

—Easy! Easy! —that familiar voice tells you. —He is going to be okay, I will make sure —a kid slightly older than you is standing before you, his beautiful blue eyes are set on you.

—Are you!? —you let out in barely a whisper. You can't believe your eyes; he can't be that young!

—Yes —he starts fixing himself. —You are strong. Mathew De Vos —he offers you his hand.

—Why the fuck are you betraying him like that?! —you start immediately fighting with him, which, funny enough, becomes a habit for you two.

—I'm not! Listen, in one of the raids inside of one of Lenkov's drawers at his office desk, there were photos of you and Pascal, you know, explicitly engaging in some illegal acts.

—But that's not! He didn't ra-! I consent to it, AND it was just because Lenvok people were watching us ove-

—I believe you. I'm not happy to lose one of my biggest witnesses, but it's still a crime. Due to cooperation, we can offer him a good deal, so Pascal will be alright, I promise you.

—How do I know I can trust you?!

—I'm here, as I promised I will. Let's go. The quicker we get this done, the faster you will win back your freedom!

Days later, Mat informs you he moved his influences to get a particular trial for Pascal and that he ended up with just domestic arrest in Budapest, ankle monitor and all.

But that you won't be able to see him, probably ever again. You are only allowed to talk to him on the phone.

Lenkov corrupts his way out of the situation. To both your fury, you have never seen a man so furious as Mathew that day; you almost felt like running away from him as soon as possible, but this unexpected outcome forces you into a witness protection program.

Mathew offers you a place to stay until things get sorted out, a stay that will last for years to come.

—The obvious aside, duh, why did Mathew want to take Lenkov down? —Seb asks, his voice husky.

It's cold and late at night, around 5 a.m., and by this point of the story, you are already wrapped around Seb's arms, sharing the soft blanket on the couch as he plays nervously with your golden bracelet.

Seb has remained empathic and supportive, listening to your life story.

—Mat got scarred by that same man. Victor, Mat's father, was just solidifying "Heroes Global" after building it to protect minors, legally advise victims and their families, and help intelligence agencies dismantle traffic rings when he was the first person to discover the real business behind Lenkov's legal facades—you explain. Seb's eyebrows go to the roof, and his eyes look sad.

—As Mat was dealing with becoming an orphan, his team found out the helicopter crash that killed his parents, well, his dad mostly, wasn't an accident. Mathew's mom has been in a coma for years with no hope of recovering, but she is still with us, thank God.

—Are you a believer?

—Yes. God sent Mat to me. He means the world to me, Seb. He really does, even with all that implies. It's the only family I have. Even in our worst moments, I have never not loved him. He gave me a chance and a better life than I had ever imagined.

—It's good to know —Mat's voice takes you both by surprise, making you un-cuddle and turn to him. He walks inside the room before standing before you, hands inside his soft pajama bottoms, shirtless.

—Where did those abs come from, ancient Greece? —Seb can't help but peek as he jokes. He looks good.

As soon as I found out Lenkov did it and what he really was, I took the basis of Heroes Global and founded Little Heroes Global, working with Interpol. Did you know, Sebastian Vettel, that this girl right here is the foundation's vice president? he asks in the voice of a quiz host while pointing at you.

—I begged Mat to let me stay and work with them as soon as I was freed, I wanted to help others, but I was an illegal here in Belgium, with no papers and in need of a citizen permit and a passport.

—Also under age —Matt adds. So, I wasn't able to marry her to fix all of that thing at once, but as soon as we could, we did, I stayed true to my word of taking care of her.

—It wasn't a romantic or traditional wedding —you explain.

—Just transactional, sign here, sign this, sign there —Mat adds.

—Do you ever?

—Yes —you both answer at the same time.

Dead silence.

—But you two need to go to bed, to sleep, I mean. On another occasion, Y/N may tell you all about us; I prefer my version, though. Feel free to stay over Vettel. Just respect my roof —he winks before leaving, implying to be discreet with sex if there is to be.

Sebastian goes all red. To be continued... < Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >

80 notes · View notes

eyesthatroll · 3 months

Text

wip catalogue ! ft. qh43, lh43, jh86, nm29, tz11, jc37, dm91

author's note; hey everyone, mari here, just wanted to say thank you for 1k followers!!!!!!!!1 that's crazy, and you guys are so so amazing and cool and swag. i thought about doing a celly, (fun fact, i've never done one of those!) but i've decided to save that for next time and attempt to do a draft clean out.

i have 117 drafts, really just pages upon pages of unfinished work that i'd like to get out at some point. so, if you enjoy my writing, under the cut will be excerpts from fics/oneshots/series' that i haven't finished. if any of them of them peak your interest, please let me know by either leaving a comment, or something in my inbox. i'll try and work on the ones that have the most interest first, and then finish the others. if this doesn't make sense, or you have any questions, you can let me know in the same fashion.

dad!jt compher x fem!reader

Eamon huffs out of frustration. “She’ll already marry Sammy B. by then.”

Laughter escapes JT’s lips, “and who is Sammy B.?”

He huffs again. “He has black hair, and he sits by her in reading. Why can’t I have hair like mommy?”

“I got my hair color from my dad, your papa, just like you got yours from daddy.” You explain.

“Well, I don’t want daddy’s stupid h-hair.” Eamon’s voice waivers, and the tears that he was holding in begin to free fall. He turns into your side, clutching your shirt.

This idea randomly came to me. Eamon would probably be in either first or second grade, and has a little crush like all kids have. Said crush doesn't like his hair color, and tells him that flat out because kids are menaces and very blunt. OR. Was floating around the idea of the same concept, but perhaps a teenage girl? tween girl, maybe middle school age, and the boy she likes only likes blondes, so she asks to dye her hair blonde? But obviously that conversation would be waaaay more mature. I don't know. If you have any thoughts, feel free to let me know.

———

jack hughes x fem!reader (best friends brother/kinda enemies to lovers)

"You can put your drink on my tab." A voice says, coming up from behind you, a hand on the small of your back as he takes a seat at the barstool to your right. You smile to yourself, shaking your head before turning to him.

You quirk a brow at him, "I did that already."

He rolls his eyes at your answer, taking a sip of his own drink, some beer you'd never heard of until earlier tonight. You'd taken a sip of Luke's earlier, and about gagged at the taste. "Of course you did."

You shrug your shoulders, no shame in your game. You were at a bar with about a dozen NHL players, you'd be damned if you had to buy your own drinks. "I already told Lukey I'm not paying for anything this weekend."

The request: Hiii can I request something where reader and luke know each other from college and they’re at a party or bar and jack is visiting luke so they see each other and jack is interested in reader but she’s playing hard to get 🤭

I changed the request a bit, so it's set in this season when Luke is already with the Devils, and reader visits during that 5 game homestead. This would probably be a long one shot, and I like the idea of combining these tropes:

forbidden

best friends brother

enemies to lovers (but not insanely enemies)

(more below, but a different part than above)

He scoffs, his hand pushing into your shoulder, playfully of course. "I love this relationship that we have."

You quirk a brow, bringing your glass to your lips, finishing off the rest of your white russian. "And what relationship is that?"

"The one where you pretend you're not in love with your best friends older brother."

"I always did like Quinn." You respond, an innocent smile on your lips.

"No-"

You cut him off. "Plus, he has that whole Captain thing going on. Very sexy."

"He has a girlfriend!" He exclaims.

You shrug your shoulders, leaning in closer to face him. "That's too bad."

You're obviously joking, but Jack doesn't seem to catch on. "And, you're too young for him."

You shoot him a questioning look. "But not for you, huh?"

He slides his barstool closer to yours, the fabric of his jeans making contact with the bare skin of your knee. "Are you still dating that college fuck, what was his name.. Alan?"

Your tongue rolls over your bottom lip. "Aiden."

He nods, feigning a look of realization, while you both know that he knew his name. "Right, Aiden." He confirms. "The guy who leaves you on the side of the road at 3am."

You scoff, shaking your head. "That was one time."

Your eyes shoot to his palm, that has found a place on your thigh, his warm hand against your cold skin sending a chill throughout your body.

"I could never leave a pretty girl like you on the side of the road." He continues.

Probably going to have a lot of bickering throughout the fic, reader will be hardheaded and uncompromising on fucking up her friendship with Luke. I haven't fleshed out the personalities I want them to have yet so this is in a very rough stage. If you have any thoughts, feel free to let me know.

———

nathan mackinnon x fem!reader (5 year age gap)

“Today’s my 23rd birthday.” You say, before taking a sip of your drink, your attention to the right, where a man as struck up a conversation with you at the bar.

He takes a swig of his beer, his eyes roaming your body before they finally meet your gaze again. He looks conflicted, his brows tensed as if battling an internal war.

You weren’t stupid. You graduated college top of your class—with honors, and even if you hadn’t, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that you were speaking to an older man.

The only man, to even catch a sliver of your entire, in the entire bar. You’d caught eyes with him from across the room, back when you were pushed in a booth with your friends. He looked away immediately, but you could feel his eyes on you every now and again, before you finally excused yourself from the table and went up to the bar. You wore a black slip dress, your hair cascading down your back with silver glitter hair tinsel placed throughout. You didn't bother turning to see if he would follow you, you don't chase, you attract. If he sat in the chair next to you, then he was buying you a drink. And if he didn't, then you'd move on to the next.

“Happy Birthday.” He finally said.

"What happened to your nose?" You were over the birthday formalities-having received them all night. You had questions for the man sitting next to you, starting with his bruised nose, a prominent and formidable feature dominating his face that you couldn't take your eyes off of. With him looking straight at you, you could see that it curved slightly to your right. Nothing stopped the thoughts of feeling it against your skin.

"My nose?" He questions. There's surprise in his tone of voice, like he forgot about the bruise on his nose, or surprised that you'd asked about it.

"Quite the shiner you got there." You comment again, bringing your glass to your lips again, this time finishing off the rest.

"Uh-" he pauses. There it is again with those tensed eyebrows, you wished you could gauge what he was thinking about. "Work incident."

"Damn, where do you work?" You let out a chuckle. You hadn't meant to be blunt, but you couldn't imagine what line of work would create a bruise like that.

He finishes his beer, setting it back on the counter with a light thud. "I work in..sports."

"What are you like a gym teacher?"

He laughs, for the first time since he's sat down next to you. You could tell that he had a nice smile. "Something like that."

Another fic starting in a bar. Don't know how this started, but very self indulgent as I am 22 and suffer from nate mac brainrot daily ! I have no idea for plot at all, literally nothing. I'd probably want to include smut of some sort, that seems very much where the vibe is heading, but I am absolutely terrible at writing it, so I'll have to do some research and practice writing that (if you have any tips-please let me know!!)

———

quinn hughes x fem!reader (debating on making this an oc)

Quinn and Reader (debating on making reader an OC!) are getting married in a week, and reader is still struggling to write her vows. Will probably be a long fic and include the wedding. A bit angsty, but a lot of fluff to make up for it. I'd probably give reader/oc emotionally distant parents?? Or maybe her parents are divorced? Not sure. It'll mid offseason, so we'll probably see a lot of familiar faces (j. norris, b. tkachuk, etc.)

Your frustration mounted as you released an exasperated sigh, the eraser of your pencil frantically working overtime to correct yet another line that failed to capture the right essence. You flicked away the eraser remnants with a swift motion of your palm, straightening out your legs and allowing the spiral notebook to settle in your lap. Leaning back against the arm of the couch, you closed your eyes, simultaneously opening and closing your hand in an attempt to alleviate the cramping in your fingers. A burgeoning headache threatened to take hold, and you could feel a slight discomfort in your eyes after hours of writing without the aid of your glasses.

A week, you were getting married in a week, and you still hadn't finished writing your vows. Admittedly, you had procrastinated until the last minute, but you hadn't anticipated the challenge to be this daunting. Your love for Quinn surpassed anything you had ever experienced, so why was expressing it in words proving to be such a formidable task? Frustration morphed into annoyance, and you carelessly tossed the notebook onto the modest coffee table before rising from the couch and heading towards the bathroom.

You were grateful that no one was home at the moment. Everyone had gone out for lunch, and you chose to remain behind, citing a lack of sleep the previous night as the reason for your decision to take a nap. While that wasn't entirely false – your night had indeed been restless – your true intention wasn't to catch up on sleep while the others were away. Quinn, being the caring soul he was, insisted on staying with you, but you resisted his efforts and practically ushered him out the door. That was about an hour ago, and you were keenly aware that their return was imminent.

Delving into the medicine cabinet, your fingers located the bottle of aspirin. You poured two into your palm, easily popping them into your mouth and washing them down with water from the sink. Gazing into the mirror, you couldn't help but cringe at your reflection. The extent of your fatigue hit you with full force – the bags under your eyes were darker than you had ever seen them.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

quinn hughes x fem!reader

This would probably just be a fluffy, short, domestic blurb, don't really have any other plot ideas for this.

Arriving home from work, all you wanted to do was take a shower and collapse into your bed. Tonight was an exception, with your shift extending later than usual, around 10:30, instead of your customary 9. Combine that with your regular hour-long commute, and it's almost midnight by the time you finally get home. Silently navigating through the dark and quiet house, it appears that your boyfriend is already asleep. However, as you step into your shared bedroom, you find him slumped against the headboard, eyes fixed on his iPad, headphones in.

The soft glow from the screen casts a muted ambiance in the room, the only sound being the distant hum of the city outside. Your initial fatigue gives way to a subtle pang of guilt, realizing he stayed up to wait for you, something he quite often did when he was home, even though you insisted he not.

He doesn't notice you, until you've crossed over to your dresser to grab your nightclothes before your shower, slightly jumping before dropping his iPad and taking out his headphones. "Hey, you're finally home." He comments, climbing out of his previous spot on the bed to sit at the edge of the bed, his legs hanging off the edge.

You yawn, turning around to face him. "Don't you have to be up early tomorrow?" You question. He pats his thighs, gesturing for you step over to him.

Leaving your clothes to rest on the dresser, you walk over to him. Quinn widens his legs so you can step in between them. Wordlessly, his fingers trail up your waist, to your chest, beginning to undo the buttons of your white lab coat. He slides the fabric off your shoulders, leaving only the black satin blouse you'd been wearing underneath.

He pulls gently at your collar, drawing your lips to his softly. His hands drop to your waist, gripping at your sides to guide you on top of him until you're straddling him.

"Are you okay, Quinn?" you ask, breaking apart from the kiss, just enough for your foreheads to remain pressed against each other.

"Just missed you." he mumbles, pulling you into a hug, his head finding a comfortable spot in the crook of your neck.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

jack hughes x fem!reader

Toxicity, angst, angry sex, maybe second chance love, idk.

"Where have you been?" Jack's inquiry slices through the air, surprising you as you step quietly through the front door. Your boyfriend, still awake and perched on the couch, rises to his feet the moment the door closes, arms crossed at his chest, a sour expression gracing his features. Your brows furrow in confusion as you lift one foot behind you, placing your hand on the wall for balance while attempting to undo your heel.

"What?" His question catches you off guard, especially because you had left him multiple messages earlier, clearly communicating your plans for the night—messages that went unanswered, leaving you on read once again. He sighs, a mix of frustration and concern, and crosses over to you, bending down. Without a word, he grabs your knee, gently pulling your heel-clad foot to rest on your knee, his hands deftly moving to undo the straps. He repeats the same with the other foot, before releasing you of his hold.

"I don't like you being out this late," he says, the firmness in his voice evident as he pushes himself up from his feet. Suddenly, he's towering over you, and you angle your neck to look up at him, annoyance etching your face.

"Sorry, Dad, didn't realize I had a curfew," you slur with a wry smile, a hint of laughter punctuating the absurdity of his concern. With a last dismissive glance, you shake your head and push past him, your shoulder bumping into his side as you ascend the stairs to the bedroom.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

quinn hughes x fem!reader

Quinn shows the reader that she can enjoy her birthday when the two of them spend it together for the first time. Would be super fluffy, reader will be written to have two dads, though I might make it an OC instead.

Quinn's persistent nuzzling against your shoulder blade disrupts your peaceful slumber. With a groan, you bury your head deeper into the pillow, yearning to cling to a few more precious moments of sleep before the demands of the day pull you from its embrace. Gradually, he initiates a series of tender kisses, commencing at your collarbone and concluding at that delightful spot just beneath your neck. "Happy Birthday, Angel," Quinn murmurs, his warm breath brushing against your skin.

Gently parting your eyelids, you shift on your other side to meet his gaze. His eyes are already fixed on you, brimming with adoration, as his teeth graze at his bottom lip. The morning sunlight filters through the blinds, casting a warm glow that accentuates just how gorgeous he truly is. Even in the early hours, with disheveled hair and faint remnants of drool, he remains undeniably handsome in every retrospect.

"Thank you," you express your gratitude softly, a subtle shyness tinting your voice.

Birthdays, even as a child, never held much appeal for you. The discomfort of being the focal point, the recipient of attention, has remained a constant, and birthdays, with their inevitable spotlight, are something you've always actively avoided. Yet, here you are, facing a birthday that feels different, primarily because Quinn is here to share it with you. This marks the first birthday you're spending with him in the span of your three year relationship, and it's a welcomed departure from the usual routine. It's a rarity, considering his demanding schedule that seldom grants him time off, but you know it's because he'll be leaving for a four game road-trip on Monday.

Reaching over, his hand envelops yours, fingers applying deliberate pressure that prompts a satisfying crack from your knuckles. It's a peculiar habit he picked up from you, a subtle exchange of quirks that began when you surprised him with it initially. "I have a special day planned for you," he announces, punctuating his words with a tender kiss pressed into the center of your palm.

"You know I don't want a fuss, Quinn," you mumble, weariness etched across your features.

He senses your reluctance and responds swiftly, his touch gentle as he brushes a strand of hair away from your eyes. "Not too much," he reassures, his words soothing against your worries. "Just want to celebrate you, Angel, on your day." Drawing nearer, he shifts, propping himself up on his right arm as he hovers over you. "Will you let me?" He wets his bottom lip, anticipation palpable as he awaits your response.

A small, close-lipped smile graces your lips as you reach up, your fingers delicately tracing over the overgrown scruff that lines his face. "Of course I will." A wide grin spreads across his face in response to your words, and he leans in, morning breath be damned, as your lips meet in a soft, synchronized dance.

He breaks apart, planting a kiss on your nose, before carefully stepping over you to get out of bed. "You get ready, I'll make breakfast."

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

luke hughes x fem!reader (but not really)

This is part two to Nobody's Love. I finished it, but I absolutely hate it, and will basically be starting over from square one. Below is where we would've left off, but when I finish this properly, it won't start with this dialogue, it will probably open within a flashback, and this part will be later in the story (if that makes sense).

"What's going on here?" Your blood runs cold at the sound of his voice, and you immediately break away from Jack, moving with an urgency as if you'd been caught doing something forbidden. Frantically, your hands move to wipe away the lingering traces of tears that you'd shed just moments ago. But your efforts to disguise your emotions prove futile as Luke's keen eyes detect the remnants of your sorrow, and his face contorts into a mix of confusion and well-intended concern.

"Why is she crying? What did you do to her?" Luke's voice brims with accusation, his words directed at his brother.. He takes a step forward, his intent to comfort you clear in his movement. You instinctively shuffle backwards, creating a protective distance, your arms loosely crossing over your chest.

Jack scoffs, disbelief etched across his features. "I didn't do anything," he retorts, his tone dripping with emphasis on the word 'I,' subtly implying that Luke is the source of your distress.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Luke's words slice through the air, laced with an unmistakable edge. His face tinges with a reddish hue as his gaze drills into Jack.

Again, would love to give you a bigger excerpt, but I hate everything else of what I've written LMAO. Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

quinn hughes x darcy sorokin (black fem!oc)

Basically a quinn x single mom au. May rewrite this entire thing. Also, started this months ago and loved the name Sunny for the kid (Sunny Sorokin) (no relation to the hockey player) but now I kind of hate it :)

Quinn became utterly enamored with her the moment his gaze met hers in the diner. She was a delightful surprise, replacing his usual waiter, Johnny, to collect his order. Her dark skin seemed to radiate a subtle glow under the dim diner lights, and her curly hair was artfully gathered in a loose bun resting at the back of her neck, adorned with a floral bandana draped over it. When she smiled, her dimples and the slight gap between her front teeth only added to her charm, leaving Quinn captivated and unable to shake thoughts of her for days.

Quinn stumbled upon Alma’s, the quaint diner, during his rookie year in Vancouver. Its unassuming atmosphere, a hidden gem tucked away, immediately resonated with him, providing a sense of ease. Combine that with the staff’s familial treatment, and he easily became a regular patron. Now, however, his visits weren’t just about unwinding and savoring a meal; he hoped to encounter the beautiful waitress he had learned was named Darcy (not through inquiry, but thanks to her name tag — he was too anxious to ask). Quinn relished any excuse to come to the diner, whether to be served by Darcy or simply steal glances at her when she wasn’t looking.

Quinn’s attempts to discreetly observe Darcy didn’t go unnoticed. She could sense the weight of his gaze, subtly tracking her movements around the diner. Intrigued and slightly puzzled by his behavior, Darcy decided to approach her co-worker, Johnny, to inquire about this regular customer. Johnny, with his wealth of experience at the diner, shared that Quinn was a nice guy who had been a faithful patron for years. He detailed Quinn’s routine of ordering the same breakfast every morning—soft scrambled eggs on wheat—followed by prolonged disappearances, especially during the summer months. Armed with this newfound knowledge, Darcy’s curiosity about the handsome and somewhat mysterious customer deepened.

Darcy couldn’t deny the undeniable attractiveness of the man. His chestnut brown hair, steadily growing out since their first encounter, months ago, often required his attention as he habitually moved it out of his line of sight. His eyes, a deep brown that occasionally hinted at hazel in the early morning light. The way his teeth grazed over his bottom lip during conversation, though she was unsure if it was born out of nervousness or mere habit. Following the tumultuous chapter with her ex-boyfriend, after nearly five years, another man had finally found a place in her thoughts.

She harbored these thoughts secretly, keeping them locked away from anyone but herself. With her son, Sunny, now five years old, she couldn’t afford to be hasty. Sunny, more aware of his surroundings, comprehended things with greater clarity. She had already delicately explained the departure of his father, her ex-boyfriend, wanting to shield him from the unnecessary pain of the wondering, not knowing. And despite yearnings for companionship, she held the burden of guilt for Sunny’s lack of a father figure, and understood the importance of not rushing into a relationship that wasn’t genuine. Both she and Sunny deserved better, and she was determined to prioritize their well-being.

Let me know if you have any thoughts.

———

quinn hughes x fem!reader

Quinn and Reader go to their favorite diner late after a game. Probably lots of fluff, reminiscing. Possibly out of character Quinn, not too sure if he'd be into pda in front of the wags LOL.

Hovering in the distant corner, your fingers nervously toyed with the security pass draped around your neck, its edge resting just above the waistline of your jeans. A cluster of other wives and girlfriends lingered in the same vicinity, engaged in casual banter among themselves. You offered polite smiles, but there was no effort on their part to include you, nor did you make any overtures to join their conversation.

At last, you caught sight of a familiar mop of brown hair making its way down the hallway. The impulse to sprint towards him, leap into his arms, and plant an immediate kiss on his lips surged within you. However, with watchful eyes fixed on you, you opted for a more restrained approach, contenting yourself with a gentle caress of your hand against his right bicep. "Great game, Quinn."

A puzzled expression settles on his face, seemingly oblivious to the attention directed your way, or perhaps indifferent to it. His calloused hands find their place on your waist, guiding you closer as he dips his head low to meet your lips. Your fingers intertwine around his neck, and as his towering figure elevates you slightly off the ground, he murmurs, "Thank you, baby."

An orchestra of 'awws' surrounds you, a symphony of approval that bathes your cheeks in warmth. Quinn, charmed by your bashful response, lets out a chuckle, drawing you back into the protective embrace of his side. As he ushers both of you towards the back door, he bids the women farewell with a casual, "Goodnight, ladies," leaving the echo of their admiration suspended in the air.

"Goodbye, Quinn!" Their voices lingered with a touch of wistful admiration. You couldn't help but notice the collective enchantment Quinn seemed to cast on them. It wasn't entirely surprising—your boyfriend possessed a magnetic blend of boyish charm and dorky allure that had a way of rendering anyone weak in the knees. Since being crowned captain and amassing a string of victories, his newfound confidence only added to his undeniable sex appeal.

The night air nips at the exposed skin, coaxing you to cling closer to Quinn's comforting frame. As you approach the car, the two of you reluctantly break apart. "Do you want me to drive?" Quinn shakes his head with an easy smile, planting a tender kiss on your forehead before courteously opening the passenger side door for you.

You smoothly slide into the car, and Quinn secures the door behind you. With a jog to the driver's side, he swiftly settles into the seat, key in the ignition. Your hand instinctively reaches for the heat controls, but Quinn, ever attentive, beats you to it. After ensuring your seatbelt is on, he rests his hand on your thigh, the warmth of his touch contrasting the cool night air as he skillfully navigates out of the once bustling parking garage.

"Eddie's?" His voice dances just above the soft melody of the radio in the background. Tilting your head to the left, you catch his gaze for a fleeting moment before his focus returns to the road.

"Okay" You nod absentmindedly, a yawn escaping your lips as you lean your head against the window of the car.

He peers at you once more, skepticism lingering in his gaze. "Are you sure? We can just call it a night and head home if you're tired."

Your hand descends onto his, offering a reassuring squeeze. Fatigue clings to you, but the knowledge that he's hungry and wouldn't eat if you went home propels you forward. "I want to go out with you, Quinn."

A grin overtakes his lips, and he brings your hand up to his mouth, peppering a kiss against your palm.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

dawson mercer x juniper hughes (fem!oc) (luke's twin)

Remember last halloween when I floated around the idea of dawson x hughes sister. I started it, barely a sliver into the universe. I also know very little about dawson other than I think he's an absolute cutie pie, so I'll have to do some research for this series for sure. Will deal with heavy topics such as alcoholism, addiction, etc, so if that is triggering for you, this may not be the series for you, please take care of yourself, love you.

Juniper Hughes was no stranger to the judgmental eyes. They seemed to trail her everywhere she went, the invisible weight of societal expectations bearing down on her, reminding her both of who her family was and who she wasn't. While her brothers excelled as perfect, professional athletes, following in her parents' footsteps, she had been on a different journey—one of recovery from alcoholism after her expulsion from school due to underage drinking.

Twelve long years of arduous study, relentless commitment to extracurricular activities, unending string of tests, and the suffocating pressure of expectations—Juniper endured it all. Only one fateful night was enough to strip away everything she'd worked for. In the blink of an eye, her scholarship to Brown University was lost, her only friend torn from her, and her dignity shattered into pieces. The ruthless media, once her cheerleaders, rapidly transformed into her tormentors, subjecting her to a public shaming campaign for her mistakes, constantly drawing odious comparisons with her accomplished brothers. The intrusive question hung heavily in the air, echoing endlessly: where had her parents gone wrong with her?

Why was she so deeply flawed while her brothers seemed to glide through life unburdened? Why couldn't she manage a regular relationship-whether it was with alcohol, food, or people, but they could? Juniper's life had always been marked by relentless effort, a result of sheer necessity. Unlike her brothers, nothing seemed to come naturally to her—school, sports, it all required double the hard work just to lag two steps behind them. Alcohol served as her escape, a means to shed the heavy cloak of perfectionism that enveloped her. It provided release, a fleeting respite from her self-imposed pressures. Juniper enjoyed the person she became when she drank, but the mornings after, the ensuing guilt and repercussions, they ruined her.

"Cleaned out the guest bedroom for you, Twinny," Luke's voice is gentle as he opens the bedroom door, ushering you inside. Juniper offers him a nod, accompanied by a faint smile, and steps into the room. It's devoid of any distinctive character, featuring only four white walls, a simple bed, and a closet. As she walks around, she can't help but grimace, the stark emptiness of the room triggering memories of your time in the rehab center.

Juniper gracefully lowers herself onto the edge of the bed, her fingers delicately tracing the intricate designs on the black and white duvet. Luke and Jack linger in the doorway, observing her with wordless, almost reverent gazes, as if any sound might shatter the fragile stillness of the room. She clears her throat, then turns her gaze toward her brothers. "Thanks."

While this fic will deal with heavy topics, I don't want this entire series to be super depressing, so I'll try and add equal amounts fluff!!

———

jack hughes x fem!reader

Part of the Bless the Broken Road series. Jack gets the kids up and takes them to school for the first time without readers help. Super fluffy. Might completely rewrite it, though.

"Hey, wake up." Y/N shakes Jack awake, her hand pressing into his shoulder as she takes a seat on the edge of the bed next to him.

Jack groans, stirring in his sleep, his eyes squinting open to meet her chocolate brown gaze.

"Remember, school starts at 8, kids need to be up by 7, and you need to be out the door no later than 7:45."

Y/N leaned down to plant a tender kiss on his forehead before straightening up. With grace, she retrieved her phone from the dresser and picked up her coat hanging from the back of the door. "Yeah, I know, I got it, baby," he dismissed, though when Y/N glanced back at him, his eyelids had drooped shut once more.

She flicks his cheek. "Don't fall back asleep!"

She was well aware of Jack's exhaustion, considering he had a late game last night that went into overtime. However, she had a scheduled meeting with a contractor at the bakery early in the morning, which meant Jack had to shoulder the responsibility of taking the twins to school.

Smacking her finger away, he forced his eyes open once more and sat up, leaning against the headboard. "I'm up." He rasps, "now go before you're late."

She gives him a knowing look, shaking her head. "Call me if you need anything."

"We'll be fine." He assures.

Things were definitely not fine. Jack couldn't pinpoint when or how it happened, but at some indeterminate moment, he'd drifted back into sleep, only to be roused by a gentle poking on his forehead and a soft voice by his side. He blinked his eyes open, finding his youngest son, Adler, right in front of him, his lips curved into a pout.

"Where's mommy?" Adler asks.

Jack's eyes shoot wide open, and he promptly sits up, his gaze fixed on the alarm clock perched atop the dresser, which displayed the time as 7:36. With a swift hand running through his tousled brown hair, he mutters a curse under his breath. Adler instinctively takes a step back as Jack moves abruptly, his tiny hands fidgeting nervously, forming knots of unease in front of him.

Exhaling a deep breath, Jack pushed off the covers, swinging his feet to the right side of the bed. He gently grasps Adler's shoulders, using one hand to push stray curls out of his eye line, his voice soft and reassuring. "Mommy had to go to work early today,"

Adler nods. "So no school today?"

Jack shakes his head. "I'm gonna take you. Will you wake up your brother for me, please?"

He nods, and Jack breaks into a grin, pulling Adler into a tight hug. With a gentle lift, Jack stands up, eliciting gleeful giggles from Adler as he spins them around in a circle. The sound of the child's laughter fills the quiet stillness of the house, prompting laughter of Jack's own. Setting Adler back down, the boy immediately dashes off, sprinting back to his bedroom.

———

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

jack hughes x fem!reader (ex-situationship to lovers??)

Months ago, when Jack had insisted that you attend your first hockey game when the season started, he had presented you with one of his jerseys. It had ended up tucked away in the back of your closet, gathering dust and fading into oblivion. In fact, you'd nearly forgotten about it altogether. However, the morning after your conversation with Luke, a sudden thought about what to wear to the game had crossed your mind. You were certain of one thing: you had no intention of donning Jack's jersey. You did briefly consider asking Luke for one, but that would have been counterproductive since he shared the same last name as him. Instead, you were determined to indulge in a little pettiness.

On that particular day, you impulsively ordered a Red Wings jersey from eBay. It happened to be Moritz Seider's jersey, though you didn't really know much about him, or whether he was still actively playing or not. Frankly, you didn't care. You had no intention of cheering for the Red Wings, you simply saw the purchase as a final "fuck you" to Jack Hughes.

Reader and Jack "breakup" and so she wears a different jersey to a game to spite him. Jack gets jealous, yada yada you can probably guess the vibes.

———

trevor zegras x fem!reader (bookstore owner)

Trevor comes into readers bookshop a couple times a week, begging to take her out on a date. Might turn into a 3 times he asked and the 1 time she said yes type thing. Not sure!

"Go on a date with me." Your gaze transitions from the non-fiction books that you were presently shelving to the tall blonde on your right. He regards you with eager anticipation, awaiting your response, although it seems to be no different from all the previous rejections you've given him.

"Don't you have anything more productive to do than pester me while I'm trying to work?" Your voice carries a tinge of irritation as you descend from the small stepladder.

He offers a nonchalant shrug, feigning innocence with an expression of mock sincerity. "Just one date."

You push your way past him, making contact with his side as you stride back toward the front desk. He tails you, mirroring your movements like a lost puppy, eventually leaning his elbows casually on the tall counter, opposite to where you take a seat behind it.

"Why must you deny this obvious chemistry?" He's teasing, his face leaning on his hand as he looks intently at you. You let out a huff of laughter, settling into the spinny chair.

"Does rejection get you off or something?"

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

luke hughes x fem!reader

Reader broke up with Luke months ago, and doesn't expect to see him again, but she does, and he wants answers. Angsty, but will probably have a happy ending.

You tried your best to move on from him, putting in every ounce of effort you could to try and forget him. You threw yourself into your work, deliberately steered clear of the songs that held his memory, and even canceled your ESPN Plus subscription to shield yourself from the overpowering sadness that welled up whenever you saw him on the ice.

You weren't angry with him; anger had no place in your heart. After all, you were the one who had made the difficult decision to end things with him. You had asked him to leave your apartment as he struggled through sobs, his voice filled with desperation, seeking answers about what had led to the dissolution of your relationship. And despite the tears brimming in your own eyes, you didn't break down, standing your ground as he tried to challenge your conclusion.

Your sadness clung to you like a relentless shadow, casting a long and persistent gloom over your life for months. The vibrant and extroverted girl you once were seemed like a distant memory as you found solace in the confines of your home. Days passed in mechanical, robotic-like motions, each one blending into the next in a monotonous blur. Even the cheerful banter and laughter of your co-workers, which once provided a semblance of happiness, now felt like distant echoes in the cavernous emptiness of your heart. And nights were spent curled up on the couch, lost in the embrace of comforting films from your childhood, each frame a desperate attempt to escape the crushing loneliness that had become your all-encompassing reality.

You were aware it wasn't healthy, and though that knowledge weighed on you like a heavy anchor, you made no effort to climb up to the surface for air. The relentless ache in your chest, filled with sorrow and regret over losing the boy you had loved so deeply, was like a suffocating fog, clouding your vision at every turn. You couldn't go anywhere without being haunted by phantom images of him, his presence lingering like a stubborn ghost in the back of your mind.

It only got worse in the weeks leading up to the Devils vs. Red Wings game. You were aware that he would be in town, and that knowledge sent you spiraling into self-pity and uncertainty. You had deliberately steered clear of any rumors about his dating life, but your mind couldn't help but obsessively wonder whether he still missed you. Whether he mourned the loss of your relationship, or had moved on to someone better – a fear that had haunted you ever since he moved to Jersey even before the breakup.

It's a rainy Tuesday night, and you impassively make your way to Walmart with one single purpose in mind: to purchase alcohol and junk food. Your plan was simple – to watch the game and numb your sorrows with alcohol. You were fully aware of how pathetic it might seem, but at that moment, you simply don't care.

You stretch up onto your tiptoes, straining to reach a tall bottle of merlot perched on the top shelf, your shopping basket hanging from the crook of your elbow. In your haste to secure your wine, a sudden, sharp pain pierces your sternum. Your grip falters, and the basket slips from your grasp, clattering to the floor with an ear-splitting thud. One hand flies to your chest, your fingers resting on your heartbeat that pounded wildly against the thin fabric of your shirt. Disoriented, you stumble backward, the voice of a concerned stranger echoing in the distance as your vision blurs and darkness encroaches.

Let me know if you have any thoughts.

———

jack hughes x fem!reader

Jack spends the night at Readers apartment for the first time, and asks her to move in with him. Probably would be a short blurb, maybe 1k-1.5k words and under.

"You live in this building?" Jack inquires, his gaze sweeping over the aging building, a typical five-story apartment complex in dire need of renovation. You nod at him, shutting the passenger-side door as you step out.

"Is this area safe?" He inquires, his eyes lingering hesitantly on the parking lot.

You were roughly forty minutes from Jack's neighborhood, and while this area was a bit rundown and perhaps less safe, you thankfully had never encountered any issues.

"Uh, yeah," you respond, taking Jack's hand and leading him toward the entrance. After a moment of rummaging in your bag, you locate the key to the building, insert it into the lock, and swing the door open. Jack grabs the door, gesturing for you to enter first.

Your building lacked an elevator, so you faced a long climb to the fifth floor, where apartment 48B awaited.

As you unlocked the door, you visually cringed at the chaotic scene that greeted you. Clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor, dishes forming a precarious tower in the sink. You hadn't had a chance to tidy up before Jack insisted on spending the weekend in your modest abode. And although you hesitated, knowing your apartment was far from perfect, you couldn't resist any longer. You two had been dating for about a month, and he had yet to see where you lived. He'd casually mentioned it a few times, so you knew it was time to swallow your pride and invite him over.

"Sorry bout' the mess." You apologize, nearly tripping over yourself to grab a pile of clothes off the floor.

Jack runs his hand across the wall to his right, his fingers tracing the scattered nail gun holes. "What the hell happened to the wall?" he asks, furrowing his brows in concern.

You pause in your cleaning, turning to face him. "Oh, the neighbors like to get drunk and play with their nail gun. Don't stand too close." you warn, shaking your head.

———

quinn hughes x pharmacist!femreader

Nothing started for this, but my time working in a retail pharmacy has me obsessed with writing this pairing. Might make her an OC, though. I love the idea of a badass working woman who doesn't put her life on hold just because she's married to a hockey player.

———

If you're wondering about the status of Never Have I Ever, I'm gonna be honest, I may discontinue that 🫣. Sorry! I just have no motivation to write out that storyline now, but maybe sometime in the future I will.

author's note part two: Obviously this isn't all of my wips, only some, and most haven't been edited at all and a very rough drafts, but I wanted to give you a glimpse of what I have sitting in my drafts. I also have a lot of things in my inbox that I want to get written, but I have been slacking (clearly). I also wanna do some song fics because I've never done one and think that could be cool. Again, if you have any thoughts, don't hesitate to let me know.

#quinn hughes imagine #jack hughes imagine #luke hughes imagine #dawson mercer imagine #jt compher imagine #nathan mackinnon imagine #trevor zegras imagine

31 notes · View notes

siblingshowdown · 1 year

Text

YUNMENG TRIO PROPAGANDA!!!!!

I promise as the moderator of this competition I won’t campaign for any specific sibling sets after this but I cannot let my faves Jiang Yanli, Wei Wuxian, and Jiang Cheng lose in the first round when they were seeded pretty high.

For context, here is who I’m talking about:

Look at those babies!

The Yunmeng Trio are three siblings from the book Mo Dao Zu Shi or the TV show The Untamed. They consist of oldest sister Jiang Yanli, middle adopted brother Wei Wuxian, and youngest brother Jiang Cheng. Their relationship is crucial to the story, as it follows Wei Wuxian and his dynamic with both siblings (but especially Jiang Cheng) influences a lot of his decisions, which in turn influences a lot of the state of the world they live in as a whole.

Could these siblings win a physical fight against other sibling sets? YES. Jiang Cheng is a very skill swordsman and has a magic lightning whip. Wei Wuxian invented a new kind of magic and by and large is super overpowered (can take on hundreds of people at a time due to his ability to control ghosts/corpses/harness resentful energy). Yanli, while not much of a physical fighter, can easily win over anyone’s heart with the power of soup. (Seriously, in the book it lists her weapons as “love and soup”) Everyone loves her, especially her brothers, which lowkey makes her an extremely powerful character because they’d do anything for her.

Do these siblings have sibling swag? YES. They bicker! Especially WWX and JC. Yanli loves to make her brothers soup and they always argue over who has the bigger portion! They have inside jokes! JC and WWX are always nitpicking at each other but will not allow anyone else to do so! They’re all traumatized by their parents in different ways and therefore lean on each other and are unhealthily codependent because of it! Whenever one of the brothers goes off by himself Yanli always asks the other one to go bring him back, and when she couldn’t do that she waded out into an active battlefield to try to find them!

Do they love each other? YES. “We are the closest three in the world.” Jiang Cheng sacrificing himself so Wei Wuxian doesn’t get taken hostage. Wei Wuxian convincing his friend to perform ethically dubious and extremely dangerous surgery on him to try to get Jiang Cheng back to 100%. The sole time Yanli loses her temper in the show, it’s because people are yelling at Wei Wuxian and not showing him respect! She wore her wedding outfit when she and Jiang Cheng went to visit Wei Wuxian in exile because he wouldn’t be able to be at her actual wedding and she wanted him to see it! Jiang Cheng suggested that Yanli let Wei name her son! That scene made me cry no joke!

Are they interesting? YES. I just described how much they love each other but the show actually begins with us seeing Jiang Cheng supposedly kill Wei before we jump back in time, so you know they have some intense emotional arcs going on! Wei Wuxian was adopted when he and JC were around 6, and his status as an insanely talented and amazing cultivator plays really interestingly with the fact that his younger brother will be clan leader because WWX isn’t in the bloodline, and that influences JC immensely because in a way he has to deal with some of the worst parts of being a younger sibling while also having to deal with things an older sibling would otherwise have to. Once Wei starts doing big plot things and becomes Public Enemy Number 1, JC and Yanli have to be careful with how they navigate the political world while trying to rebuild their clan and navigate an engagement that could unite their clan with a much more powerful one, but they still try to protect their brother. Bodies start dropping. They’re all traumatized over various events that occur before they’re even fully adults. They make me feel so many emotions it’s not even funny.

tldr: I love them. please don’t let them lose in the first round please just give them this they’ve suffered enough.

#to clarify they were seeded high because they got one of the highest number of nominations #so for the race to be so close...... i KNOW there's time for the tides to change but i'm WORRIED #propaganda

22 notes · View notes

spikrock · 1 year

Text

my mad t party lgbt hcs explained

very messy post below! some are genuine reasonings and others are just "yeah haha trust me bro"

tarrant: bisexual & nonbinary

i mean for all the bi characters the hc is pretty self explanatory, i mean look at them yknow. hes a little too fruity with mally and thackery 🤨 but tarrant and alice are literally bi4bi couple of all time as for the nonbinary hc, i dont know! id like to know if anyone else sees him this way or if its just me :) hes just got too much enby swag

alice: bisexual & trans

its all spiderwebs fault!!!!!!! it made her gay!!!!!!!!! /j but seriously, kissing ladypillar and different numbers such ho hey (you know how every now and then theyll switch alice standing with mally to someone else like thackery or absolem, the few times she did it with ladypillar are so funny because they cant rhyme the pronouns 😭). also ik this sounds silly but i really appreciate that in the mtp shows once ladypillar was added they didnt stop doing spiderwebs or change it to be like “haha were both girls 😵‍💫blehh this is so weird 😂”/play it off as a joke or anything because they very easily could have done that. shes trans. i already made that post with her and mally but again, if shes not trans then why is her color palette blue and pink? checkmate liberals.

thackery: bisexual & bigender

yeah hes bi i dont know what else to say he and mally are in love frfr i actually just completely made up bigender. made it up, i dont know where i got it from i just remember early february drawing mad t party on my laptop and suddenly thinking “bigender thackery” and its stuck with me since then. (the two genders i hc him with are male/female though so) i wouldnt say he feels just one or the other, he feels both at the same time

mally: bisexual & trans

he is top ten bisexuals of all time,, whenever they do the pretender and tarrant and alice stand on either side of him and take turns singing he is DYING. passing away HE IS TRANSGENDER!!!!!!! we all know it. instead of coming out as trans he made up some crazy story about being killed in a war and then coming back as a man 🙄/j hes just dramatic like that

chessur: gay & trans

haha this is mostly because of @thatrandomartistjavi's hcs xd chessur is special in the sense that hes the only mtp character that never really gets a chance to flirt with anyone else since hes always hiding behind that drumset. from what ive seen he was shipped with dinah a lot, presumably just cuz theyre both cats since they rarely interact, so ive never really understood it :p i usually hc cheshire cats as nonbinary/something under that umbrella but this guy gives me transgender vibes. idk

absolem/ladypillar(? dont know if she ever got a real name): lesbian & trans

shes very much a lesbian. just. just like yeah. i think the most prominent character that she flirts with (other than alice) is mally. from what ive seen it only really happens when its el dormouse on stage but before i started seeing that i always saw mally/absolem/thackery as like, a trio. i mean obviously everyone in the band are friends, but idk. i have lots of drawings of those three hanging out so maybe thats just something my delusional brain has completely made up. but anyway the point is i dont ship those two and i sort of see them with a more sibling dynamic. mally always holds her back when shes trying to touch the little castle music box thing, at the end of sets he’ll pull her antennae to take her off stage/she'll pull him by his scarf, etc. (also theres a clip where she kisses him on the cheek and as they begin to walk off stage she turns to the crowd and mouths “no” and does the throat slitting gesture thing which makes me think theyre sorta just playing around :p)

sooo in a post a while back i said i hc her as genderfluid but ive changed my mind?? actually before i made that post i headcanoned her as trans but then switched to genderfluid and now ive uhh changed my mind again. im very indecisive like that and very easily swayed on my opinions haha,,, @ticktockteapot's metaphor for her “becoming the beautiful butterfly she was always meant to be” is very nice i like it lots. also the fact that ladypillar has a much higher stage presence than absolem (obviously not including the spiderwebs number…or crazypillar) was always so sweet to me cuz like,,,aw shes finally more comfortable being herself and performing :’)

tl;dr none of them are straight none of them are cis. happy pride month and thank you for coming to my TED talk

#alice in wonderland #mad t party #rambling #try and guess which one i thought about the most

12 notes · View notes

unproduciblesmackdown · 1 year

Note

"was anyone at lackadaisy aggrieving Mordecai with the style and variety that the Savoys bring" idk nobody tried to carve him (they probably valued their lives more) but Mitzi and Rocky sure did seem to have their fun, at least out of the main story lol

Oh and the rat that gave him a cracker

it's sure something how like, mordecai's autistic swag is what seems to override how people interact with him rather than that everyone's just intimidated by his [but he's just so good at it] Kills You job lol

and of course it's like, tone & style, the murdering going on isn't like getting the focus for like realistic(tm) [The Horrors], and in the world of bonus / outside canon material, there's a lot of variety / A Range from "could be canon" / canonesque style & tone, to Clearly Couldn't Be, and usually a yet lighter tone / more centered around humor for the Standalone idea therein....

the Just Run With It [what if] jokes of rocky & mordecai interacting completely in earnest / embracing that premise is a lot of fun lol, with the obvious juxtaposition but also the potential flexibility when you're both particularly seen as [Guy Who I Guess Won't Just Be More Normal] and, in turn, are used to having to roll with everyone else just being some kind of way at you. i.e. less likely to mind "this guy is weird???" like, well what else is new when you're an especial odd one out even amongst a lot of idiosyncrasy, thank god. the potential refreshment of any exchange that goes beyond "the best you can get from this person is their 'humoring' you"

on that note, maybe mitzi & mordecai's dynamic is less promising lol....again like, can't take bonus material quite as [Consider It Canon], and it's nothing new for it to be like, aw maybe these two don't get along lol, like, even In Canon, how many pairs of [any two given people] are on heartwarmingly perfect terms right now....but it's sure like, maybe here is a case of "At Best: [this person "at best: this person 'humors' you" lol in the style of mitzi having to roll with any lackadaisy associate's Whole Deal. and, speaking of "people who have to roll with anyone's whole deal," that potential like.......entire Dynamic Type of "someone whose Peculiarity is resented / taken as an imposition / taken as hostility" vs "someone who isn't able to access [outright aggression] as a mode of social power & has to finesse things, especially with more deniability about in fact actively steering towards any goals" wherein it's like. someone (autistically): just standing here. someone (allistically): so it's like that, huh? two can play at that game (cocks gun). like i do wanna see a mordecai & mitzi shopping trip montage set to an anachronistic bop. mordecai Was just minding his own business, then annoyed at an interruption to take 90 pics while going What's Up Nerd, then it's like [having the social savvy to actually take any notice of how someone specific operates? you Could use this to Not torment them on purpose. Orrrr....] like. he was just sitting here lol. nobody's having a good time....interpreting someone's "impersonable" demeanor as like, a deliberate act of passive aggressive hostility, and Getting Revenge on them for either doing nothing, perhaps even trying to be friendly (this applied more generally than, like, this particular character lol), perhaps god forbid indeed ever being in a bad mood or reacting negatively to something....

truly though their limited canon Lore is straightforwardly more fun to me in its entirety....mitzi's "why do you always have to do things the creepy way" is like, the most she says that expresses an implicit more overall / preexisting negative judgment, and naturally this just after he's startled her by lurking in the back of a car for a spontaneous secret tête-à-tête, so. and him shrugging off her smacking him upside the head for as much; off to a relatively okay start, really. and besides that, they have their surprisingly Totally Okay conversation, even if it sours a bit in the end. it's beautiful to me that they have their Murder Mystery Secret, and chat around it, and i am still so intrigued and rotating it intently, What's Going On In Here....in canon, i do think this Shared Emotional Connection to atlas is what Mostly defines their relationship for the both of them, even beyond some more strictly practical "well, we both share the Interest of knowing, and wanting to keep, this secret," and certainly beyond how they might feel about each other independently of this....and we also get instances of their both talking About the other, without that other's presence, where they could go off about any Contempt or Dislike they have, but don't: mitzi talking to atlas('s portrait) about that wayward golden boy of yours; mordecai talking to gracie about having "very little interest in defending" mitzi, no she didn't take up with him instead, but: his understanding that she didn't shoot anyone & wasn't even living with [atlas] at the time....there seems to be Enough patience for each other, and a lot less genuine animosity than would be expected if they were simply now [professional rivals who also hated each other when they weren't even that], and if anything, mordecai's probably less hostile than mitzi thinks, and i would be Unsurprised if [whatever the "reassurance that it's still my fault" refers to] is less her fault than either of them think

it's also sure like, even when people Are intimidated they won't stop razzing him. there's asa going "you're terrifying" while mordecai is Literally Just Sitting There probably somewhat displeased about being dragged to brunch regarding lackadaisy business. there's bobby arbogast and the "softspoken and positively machiavellian. it was a no holds barred situation when he had viktor and the other one along. :c" apparent [you're terrifying] assessment of mordecai....extending to how he doesn't seem to find it at all surprising that at one point people wanted to kill mordecai, and that lack of surprise is based on knowing Mordecai's Personality lol rather than like. theories about anything he particularly Did, rather than [surely had everyone around him come to Dislike him]. my god the Autistic Character alert going off at "it wouldn't surprise me to learn that, left to his own agencies, he'd brought his troubles on himself. for all his qualifications with books and odds and percentages and what...he'd always been about as personable as a bespectacled barbed wire post, and likely tallied up more enemies than friends." like truly i can toss out some [They Wanted Him Dead b/c embezzling??] theory but it's also like, truly he might've done everything right, literally on paper, and gotten caught up in like, someone's just annoyed with him, someone needs a fall guy and it's like well i hate that one kid. that now this one guy is like "yeah he's unlikable so i don't need to know anything else to just go 'sounds about right' at him being beat up & fleeing for his life"

followed up by some Incredibly Noted remarks re: some historical perspectives on the idea of disability....like bobby where are you hearing rumors about "Why's Mordecai Like That(tm): imagined origin stories" lol but like. i don't know a ton here but i think at that time it could be like "oh yeah some physical damage to the brain will make people Personality Weird & Bad, sooo" like just Speculating about him being shot or something or other, when nothing much otherwise indicates there's actually any truth to mordecai having a "wonky streak" because of some particular injurious event. this also being like, perhaps the one case that maybe someone Is too intimidated to give mordecai shit lol, though yknow, maybe that's also personality + mordecai is Only Around the arbogasts when it's No Holds Barred situations....that is, bobby saying "i never had the gall to ask him myself if that was true." while it's also probably indeed just extra difficult to go up to someone and ask them like "hey i've heard there's some head trauma in your past that explains what's so wrong with you. is that true" like. that can only go badly

there was also certainly no language like "autistic," and it sure might be the case that [piece of cranial metal that's not supposed to be there???] is like, adjacent to "i'm pathologizing it btw: this person is not neurotypical"....uncomfortably looked up the history of lobotomies, that would exist within the decade & was based on [doing surgery on the brain for Psychology Reasons(tm)] already around 1890, so....certainly a current context for [trauma to the brain. accidental or inflicted] as per "creating" or "fixing" someone just vaguely taken as like, well they are crazy(tm) then. tooth and nail creating Language around non pathologized perspectives & understandings re: disability even Now, so, yknow, nigh a hundred years ago, can presume some rando isn't bringing the most nuanced, respectful perspective, but this sure is like....a comment that is framing an understanding of mordecai as Disabled. though it's then also like "and that's why he's so good at killing people, i guess" but, again, it's a pathologizing, [so of course people would want him dead] kind of perspective in the first place

and then fascinating to have that Segue into talking about viktor, in a "i guess they're both kind of weird in a disabled way" type of comment, touching on Shell Shocked as like, what's pointed out to be sort of a vintage Formal Diagnosis for what would evolve into the formal diagnosis of ptsd, and indeed still like [seeing Combat in the Military] as like, understood as what's "real," definitive ptsd....sure not being in wwi & Not being affected, we can presume....these two being thrown together like "okay now go in there & kill everyone & try not to get killed yourselves, boys" like, very chill, after getting hold of both these people because they just found themselves in a hell of a life and death situation, and atlas pulled them out of the dire results....wherein you end up with a duo that can deal just fine with the other party being "weird" and they're out here ultimately operating on this life and death (making sure neither of them die) basis. mordecai Reasoning with viktor to retire before he left....

anyways i'm really just going on a tangent. rocky and mordecai's canon interaction is also great....reminds me of going through all the extra material for possible murder mystery clues and going like, ah, proto panel that did get used but also changed a bit

the tragedy....like you Know that, generally, rocky might be hyped to get comments on his fancy tie like, :( did No one notice my monogrammed accessories....and mordecai from across the room like "i noticed." pause, then exits.

and then there's mitzi like aware of rocky entirely (or. mostly) inadvertently having people punching and shooting and rampaging and etc like, no please don't go try to bother mordecai on purpose....lose/lose/lose for everyone for sure. but it's also a funny idea, and mordecai would probably Not really bother to kill anyone about rocky's own brand of "hmm why can't this guy Just Be Normal(tm)" or anything.

which, also, of course also have to shout out that immediately preceding [R is for Ridiculous] moment where rocky and mordecai apparently know Of each other lol. truly like guess they wouldn't have much cause to have interacted previously, especially as "surely Actually Being In The Speakeasy was one of the least relevant arenas for mordecai's bookkeeping or killing work for lackadaisy" and it being all the less relevant to anything mordecai would seek out like, personally / recreationally. and if he Is around there, when's he liable to be chatting with any/all band members....meanwhile what Stories about mordecai is rocky hearing? a) probably ones where he does hear mordecai's name, the choice to up and call him Ol Serious Face as a greeting is probably not immediately endearing, classic [rocky] style, and b) also probably just ones where people talk about how he's weird & that's funny or resented, maybe. maybe it's telling tales about his exploits (violent. probably) with viktor....but those goings on probably more discreet and removed from [stuff actually happening at the speakeasy]. and all this coming back around like aha perfect conclusion to tl;dr, mordecai may be on his 9000th intimidatingly efficient murder of the day, but everyone's like "his personality & everyday behavior & bearing are really weird. i want him dead" and just giving him shit about That based on That feeling. lol.

the savoys seeming at all Intrigued in an [actively engaging with him and not just giving him shit] may not really be different Enough, but. anything's possible lol, this triumvirate over here of all them of wild cards and elevated and "you know how it is. just doing your damn thing"....one might have hope that this could mean transcending "temporarily / begrudgingly humor this person At Best, sometimes"....they're already like "yeah i know gender isn't real" like great candidates for knowing neurotypicality isn't real also, or any other constructs of the Normality(tm) genre

#another classic genre: being sent an ask and just proceeding to say any damn thing #it's not Not on topic. ish. lol. just get Inspired. say some things. don't read it if you don't want to / give it a skim; go ''?''; move on #kinda decidedly medium length as things go around here but i'll give it that #long post /////#what's the quote like #i love it when the [bookkeeping work] gets [unceremoniously crashed] & the gay [asexual jewish autistic hired gun] gets mean #going like oh mein gott anytime i remember serafine up & carved a sigil onto mordecai's chest as he determined picks (not this) battle :0 #oh and the rat friend lmao. the concept/art of horatio feeding some rats is so enduring....yet mordecai would be Number One Hated That

4 notes · View notes

radioconstructed · 2 years

Photo

⌖ I have, as the kids say, turned my swag on,

#⌖ hellfie #⌖ online #fem alastor #// she's a simple deermon. she sees a cursed outfit and she tries it on. ref in the link!#(at some point I will draw her in pretty outfits. but cursed outfits is more fun rn.)#joke's on everyone she ALWAYS has her swag turned on.#not my best work but tbh like I said she's REALLY challenging for me to draw! I'm working on it! hopefully with practice I get a #better handle on like. proportions and stuff. develop a consistent style w her!#I'm tired of looking at it and spent too much time so it gets slapped on the dash. here.#ok to reblog

12 notes · View notes

softsebnbuckystan · 3 years

Text

Soul ties - Part 9 (Bucky Barnes au)

"If I lay here

If I just lay here

Would you lie with me and just forget the world ?"

"Can I come in?"

It was Bucky's voice – of course it was. You tried wiping your tears away before speaking. A part of you didn't care if he saw you crying, but you still hated when you couldn't hold back the tears.

"Yes." Your voice was husky from the crying and you weren't sure he'd heard you until he opened the door. You were still on your knee, unable to even look at him. Bucky seemed to understand talking wasn't really what you wanted at the moment. Instead, he kneeled next to you and unexpectedly wrapped his arms around your shaking body. You'd noticed how rare it was for him to touch people ; even tapping Steve's shoulder seemed to hardly ever occur to him. Your shaking stopped instantly as you gave into his embrace, leaning against his chest.

"He was about to call me a whore, wasn't he?"

Had it been Steve, he would've told you no in an effort to comfort you. But Bucky radiated blatant honesty when he talked to you, which you appreciated more than you would say.

"It doesn't mean he's right," he said.

"Maybe not. But that's still the word he wanted to call his wife. How did I even- fuck." You shook your head. "How did I ever fell for his tricks? I knew his friends were trash but...I thought he was the exception. I never thought he'd act like this with me."

"Act how? Rude?" Bucky asked, unsure about what you exactly meant.

"Yeah. The neglect has been going on for years, you know." You looked up at him and got out of his arms to sit properly. It didn't take him long to take a seat next to you, leaning his back against your bed. "I just put it all on his job." You grabbed Bucky's hand : you'd never needed to touch him as much as you did now. Something in the controlled way he breathed and the warmth of his skin helped you think straight and prevented you from spiralling.

"Is it the first time he insults you?"

"Openly? Yeah." You sighed. "He's been petty before but calling me names...never."

"I'm afraid to ask this, but I have to." He looked you in the eyes, searching for...what, exactly? "He was pretty violent when he grabbed your shirt. Was that the first time as well?"

The question made you look away once more. Inexplicable guilt flooded your body as you tried to think of some lie. You leaned your head back on the mattress and closed your eyes, opting for honesty.

"No."

You could almost hear Bucky's jaw clenching ; his other hand formed a fist, whereas the one holding yours remained gentle.

"He's never been violent intentionally," you quickly explained. "It's just... We've had our fights, alright? And when we start yelling at each other, I always tell him we both need to calm down but that doesn't suit me so he tries to stop me from leaving the apartment and...well. It goes from grabbing my arm a little too hard or just locking the door and hiding the keys. He even threw them out the window once."

Recalling those fights didn't help your tears stop rolling on your cheeks but damn, it felt good to actually say it to someone. Wanda never needed you tell her things : she could just read them when she felt like you were lying. With Bucky, it was different. You actually wanted to tell him what had happened.

"What did you do when he did those things to you?"

"Not much. It only made me angrier so I would sit on the couch or even in my room and stop talking to him until he opened the door."

"You do realise how that's...far from right, yeah?"

"I'm starting to." You shrugged. "This might be stupid but, seeing how everyone here treats me, how you treat me, it's making me realise Darren is not this perfect husband I imagined him to be. He was the easy way, you know? We met, we liked each other and he had a good situation and I could already see the white-fence family every American movie depicts. I just didn't know it would turn into a soap opera." You laughed bitterly at your own not-so-funny joke.

Bucky suddenly got up, keeping your hand in his to help you stand as well.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

"It's still your birthday and I don't want it to be ruined by that guy," he let out in one breath. "C'mon."

He took a right turn after your bedroom door, walking you further away from where the party was supposed to be. You didn't walk for long before he opened an other door, walking you into his own room.

"What's the plan, exactly?" you asked again, more than confused. "I thought you meant we'd go back to the others, and..."

"Damn, I didn't realise how this looks." He let out a nervous laugh and you mentally slapped yourself for going blank over how cute it was. "Nobody even asked you to a proper dance on your own birthday and I want to fix that, if you'll allow me."

He looked back at you through his eyelashes, looking all anxious about your answer.

"What music choice do we have?"

His face lit up and he went through a box of vinyls on the floor. "I only have old stuff, I'm sorry. I believe this should do it, though," he said as he picked out one of the pockets. "It's from 1956, but it actually came out first in the 30's. Most people know the most recent, so..."

"I didn't know you were a music nerd," you said with a smile. "How very cute of you."

He shrugged as he placed the disk on the record player. Piano notes started rising through the air and you recognised Louis Armstrong's voice.

"May I?" Bucky held out his hand and he waited for you to nod before grabbing yours, placing his left hand on your hip. Your instinct was to inch closer to him as you both started swinging slowly in the middle of his room. His blue eyes were sounding you out.

"This was indeed a wonderful idea," you whispered, not wanting to break the moment as Ella Fitzgerald started singing her own chorus of Cheek to cheek. Bucky beamed and you enjoyed the view, returning his smile before resting your head on his chest. His heartbeat became another rhythm to follow and be lulled to. "I can't explain how you make me feel and that scares me, Buck. And yet, it's the best feeling I've ever experienced." The use of his nickname did something to him : you felt his heart skip, causing you to smile discreetly. "Talking to you is ridiculously easy," you continued, "and I'm not that muck of a talker. Just ask Wanda."

He laughed softly and you tilted your head up as his chest shook from the movement.

"I know what you mean," he confided. "I don't feel all of the guilt I carry when I'm with you. It's refreshing. I don't feel like I'm being judged at every second."

"I couldn't possibly do that," you explained. "I know a little more about the things they made you do, now, and I'm more impressed at how you came out of this. You're still there whenever someone needs help, like when that fire alarm rang for no reason the other day. And when that thing went off in the lab, you took time to help me. How could anyone judge you negatively?" Your frowned. "Sorry, I interrupted you."

"It's fine," he assured you as the next song on the vinyl started playing (not that you were paying much attention to the music, even though Dream a little dream of me was an all time favourite of yours).

Your eyes scanned his face and when you noticed his own gaze lingering on your lips, you moved your hand from his shoulder to his neck. You were still slow dancing effortlessly, and you could feel his breath slightly picking up.

"I want to do something," you muttered. "But if you don't want me to, I won't feel bad if you stop me." The last thing you wanted was him to let you do anything out of pity ; you didn't think that was the type of thing he'd do, but there was no harm in making sure. Your fingers fiddled with the short hair on the back of his head and you extended your neck a bit. You felt Bucky's breath on your nose and lips as you got even closer to him, closer than you'd ever been until now.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked in a whisper. "Trust me, I do, but last thing I want-"

Those were the only words you needed. You pressed your lips against his and a whole firework show started in your belly. His hand on your hip pulled you into an even closer embrace as you kept playing with his air. When you broke the kiss and rested your forehead against his, you couldn't get rid of your smile. So it was true, what books said about butterflies.

--- I'm so happy to finally post this part!! This was definitely my favourite to write so far, even though it's a tie with the stars scene. :) I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it.

P.S. : the tag list is still growing and damn that makes me so happy!! Your support means everything.

P.S. 2 : I feel like this story will be wrapped soon. If you have any request/idea you'd like to see for a next one (short one shots or series), I will gladly hear it!

Tag list :

@ginger-swag-rapunzel @joscelyn02 @writehistorynotthegrocerylist @bluemoon-icecream @lady-loki-ren @simplybombshell @lizajane3

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #james bucky barnes #catws #cacw #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #self insert #x you #x reader #soulmate au #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fluff

41 notes · View notes

jenomark · 4 years

Text

Part 1

➔Pairing: Idol!Haechan x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: Renjun, Jeno ➔Genre: Smut ➔Warnings: The taking of Haechan’s virginity + vaginal penetration + emphasis on the use of no condom. ➔Word count: 4,640

➔Summary: He’s an idol, a friend, and now you’re taking his virginity. Beginning your friends-with-benefits relationship with Haechan wasn’t the best idea, but you just can’t help yourself when it comes to him.

↠ Part 2

“I’ve got swag.”

As soon as those words left Haechan’s mouth, you could see the regret spreading across his face. He was trying to appear confident in your presence, like he was just one smirk away from becoming the bad boy of your dreams. Indeed, his face did say Devil, but the way he held his body slightly slumped over in embarrassment spoke volumes about the boy he was inside. Twenty never seemed so scary.

“Is that what you call it?” you asked. You smiled to ease any awkwardness.

Haechan poked his tongue against the inside of his cheek. He looked away from you then, his eyes scanning up and down the street. Five minutes ago, he was meant to be on his way back to the dorms in a car with his manager. Somehow, all of that charm was put to good use and he asked to stay behind to wait with you while your car came; it worked.

“It’s cold tonight.” he said. He stuck his hands in his jean jacket and hugged them around his front.

“It’s January.” you said, your voice sarcastic.

He looked back at you, his face hiding none of his feelings. Confusion. Somehow, an understanding of the person before him. You watched his breath spill out in wisps of smoke, the cold air circling up towards the night sky and disappearing. You were leaning against the wall, just inches apart, but you wanted to take a step forward and warm his lips against yours. It was all you could think about since you first met him.

“Ah, don’t be like that,” he said. “Do you think I’m a fool?”

“I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

Haechan laughed. The sound of it must have carried all across the city, winding through the streets and getting trapped in the bare bones of trees. Oh, how you’ve thought about how his mouth would feel pressed against your body as he laughed, the vibrations travelling up your stomach and over your breasts.

“No,” you said, finally. “ I think you’re very intelligent. You’re probably the most clever man I’ve ever met. You know what you want. Sometimes, you’re too scared to ask for it, but, when you do ask for it, Haechan, it will be beautiful.”

“Do you know what I want?” he asked.

If his question caught you off-guard, you didn’t show it. Haechan was good at calling you out, just like were at keeping him in check. You watched your car roll up and come to a stop, black and ominous on the curb. You closed the gap between you and Haechan, your face just a whisper away from his. He couldn’t stop looking at your lips, his eyes tracing over every line. You poked your tongue out just a little before you spoke.

“Yes,” you said. “But the question is, are you brave enough?”

You moved past him, bumping your shoulder against his. You did not look behind you. You could feel his eyes on you, the heat warming you on the cold night. You could have offered him a ride home, opened your car door and let him into your life publicly, but that would get too many people talking. You were always less about talk and more about action.

Starting a friends-with-benefits relationship with Haechan wasn’t for the faint of heart. Going into it, you knew it was trouble. You also knew it would take up a lot of your time, cause your friends to notice, and create a dependent attachment with each other. The promise of it ending badly wasn’t a matter of if but when. When the kiss of death came, life as you knew it would change. As much as you geared yourself up for it, you’d never be ready.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” he said. “I’m starting to think you want to spend time with me.”

You were sitting in the company cafe, your table far from prying eyes. Your head was buried in your phone when he walked in, but you didn’t need to hear his loud voice to know he was there. The air changed whenever he was near. Your body felt warmer, your hair standing on end, like it was confused with the temperature. Hot and cold is the way you liked your relationship with him. With Renjun and Jeno, he seemed more relaxed in his environment. None of them saw you, at first, which was alright with you, because you could watch him a little longer. On his own, without you, Haechan did act like a fool, and you liked it. He didn’t act more mature, didn’t stop himself from looking too ugly when he played around. When Renjun joked, Haechan laughed freely at the ceiling, his hand clutching his stomach like his intestines might fall out if he laughed hard enough. He pulled his cap off, ran his fingers through his hair, and replaced it. He kept checking his phone while waiting for his coffee, his eyes scanning the screen.

Haechan: I’ve been thinking about what you said.

You looked down at your own phone. Saved under Devil, his text came up with a Ping!, your phone's volume all the way up. Several people turned in your direction. You made eye contact with them all before settling on Haechan who was making his way towards you.

“I’ll see you later,” Haechan called to Renjun and Jeno. “Tell everyone I’ll be late.”

He sat down across from you, took his cap off once more and ran his fingers through his hair again. You noticed that his hair was a few shades darker than the last time you saw him. He saw you looking and leered in a way that suggested he knew how attracted you were to him.

“You didn’t give me time to text you back.” you said.

“I’m here in the flesh, “ he said. “Answer me now.”

“But you didn’t ask me anything.”

Haechan placed his cap back on his head. He took his phone and started writing out a text message to you. You watched his fingers working, their slight crookedness mesmerizing. Everything he did was beautiful. Every move he made kept people wondering what he would do next. You were caught up in it, too, the hype. You found yourself giving him more attention than he deserved, more than you knew was good for you.

“There,” he said, his voice coming out childishly. “Question has been asked.”

You looked at your screen glow. You could read the last few words before your screen shut off. You locked eyes with him. In that moment, all smugness was gone. Haechan looked terrified and worried that you would say no. You made a show of looking down and reading the whole message in front of him. Underneath the table, you took your foot and slowly worked it up his leg.

Haechan: Will you take my virginity?

Reading the text made Haechan’s fear strike you like a hot chord through your stomach. You placed your phone face down on the table and locked eyes with him again. Before his phone lit up with a message that felt like it had never been typed with your hands, you silently prayed to yourself. Haechan looked down at his phone, at the answer he had waited months for.

You: Yes.

You find yourself waiting on a street corner in the rain for him. He’s late because he has schedules, and you’re on time because you faked being sick. When he gets there, he apologizes profusely, ducking underneath your umbrella like getting wet with the rain will burn his skin. Everything feels weird, like you’re in a movie where neither of the lead actors know what the hell they are doing, so they try to remember the lines they know they should not have forgotten.

“You could have waited inside,” he said, taking the umbrella from your hands so that he could hold it higher. “Where it’s warm and dry.”

“I didn’t think you would find my apartment all on your own.” you said.

“Wow,” he said. “You really do think I’m a fool.”

You lived in an apartment above a tiny seamstress shop. The rent was decently priced because she stored half of her belongings in the space. If you didn’t complain, you could stay there as long as you wanted without burning through your paychecks on rent. The storefront sat nestled between other businesses, the door to your place narrow and unassuming. Too many take-out delivery men scrambled to find you, their faces growing hot with anger every time you weren’t there to meet them at the pavement. You had, in fact, learned your lesson. Haechan folded the umbrella before he stepped in through the door, shaking out the droplets back onto the street.

“I’m so cold.” he said. He pulled his sleeves down over his knuckles. The adorableness of it made your heart do a twirl.

You shut the door behind you and stood at the bottom of the stairs leading up to your place. You removed your soaked shoes and he followed, his body shrinking down an inch once he took off his boots. You took his jacket from him and hung it on a hook after taking care of yours. Haechan shook out his wet hair, splatters of water making dots on your dry clothes.

“I’m going to kill you.” you said.

“Honey, “ he pouted. “Not until after we’ve had our first date.”

You began to wonder if sex was too formal, which felt like a silly thing to do. Not dating didn’t feel normal, yet, being with him in such a confined space felt as normal as could be. You were comfortable with his humor, his cockiness dripping down the walls, flooding every room in your life.

“You’re impossible.” you said.

You went upstairs, your wet toes squishing against the carpet. Before you opened the door to your living area, you wondered what he might think. You didn’t live in a nice dorm like he did. Before figuring out where you would play out your relationship, you both briefly entertained the idea of having sex in his bed. According to Haechan, it was more comfortable, smelled nicer, and his bathroom was just a few feet away should you want to engage in shower sex. Compared to your small place, his dorm might have felt like a palace. You had told him it was too risky. “Oh?” he had said. “You have a problem with Johnny watching us?”

“What do you think?” you asked.

Though you didn’t want to know, you knew you had to ask. As a friend, you appreciated his approval, and friends is what you were. Haechan looked around at your shoe box of a home, at the normal bits of your life scattered here and there, and the random boxes that belonged to the lady you rented from, and he whistled. He saw your kitchen counter scattered with your laptop and files, the pieces of junk that were stacked mile high.

“I like it, “ he said. “It’s sweet, like you.”

“Sweet.” you repeated.

You moved further into the apartment, removing old mugs and placing them in the sink. Haechan hovered in the doorway, his awkwardness thick and uncomfortable. You let the last dish fall into the sink with a clatter that disturbed the weird silence growing between you. You approached him and touched the bottom of his hoodie. From the rain, the edges were soaked. Without saying anything, you peeled it up his body. Halfway through, Haechan moved as if he remembered he could, lifting his arms so that you yank the hoodie over his head. Underneath, he was wearing a white t-shirt that looked gossamer thin.

“Feel better?” you asked.

Haechan grunted in response. You took another step forward until your face was close to his. You touched your fingers against his fingers. In surprise, he pulled them away. You didn’t think he would be very confident about his prowess, but you never expected him to be so shy. In a way, it was a let down. You wanted Haechan to push you back by your shoulders, put his hand on the back of your neck and pull you to his lips like he couldn’t survive another moment if he couldn’t taste you. The reality of Haechan was much different.

“I’m sorry.” he said.

“Don’t apologize,” you said. “It’s okay. Things take time.”

You couldn’t wait an eternity for him to make the first move. You turned around, your hair whipping him in the face, strands of it wet with his spit. You didn’t look back as you removed your shirt and tossed it aside. You walked towards your bedroom and turned back once you crossed over the threshold. Haechan was holding your shirt in his hands having caught it, his fingers rubbing the fabric. You ushered him forward with a crook of your finger. He shuffled on his feet, dropping the shirt as he came. The moment his body crossed the threshold to be with yours, you balled his shirt in your fist, pulled him into you, and kissed him on the lips. Kissing him made you feel high. Your body felt relaxed and at peace. His hand pressed against the small of your back, his tongue colliding with yours, the hotness of his breath turning you on. You brought your fingers into his hair and tugged on it so that he would reveal his neck to you. You kissed his moles, your teeth nipping at his throat and causing him to moan.

“Whoa.” he said softly.

He had kissed before, but never like that. He had told you his first kiss happened because of the pressure from others. The moment his lips met hers, it felt like it was over. You were not that girl from his childhood. Haechan kissing you was like a flower opening up to bloom. He wanted to peck you at first, his lips tight, his eyes closed even tighter. You let him take his time and explore your mouth. Gradually, his hands moved over your body with the rhythm of his tongue. Before you knew it, he had turned you both around and pushed you against your bedroom wall.

“Easy.” you said, placing your hand against his chest.

You could feel his erection poking you. He placed his hands on either side of you against the wall and tried to calm his body down. His kisses became eager, and it was hard for him to catch his breath. If he had it his way, he would have dropped his pants right there and fucked you against the wall.

“I’m taking off your bra.” he said.

Haechan went behind your back to feel for the clasp but there was none. You raised your eyebrows at him, at the desperate look on his face as he searched around for what he thought should be there. He believed he was doing something wrong by not being able to find it. For once, you’re the one that felt smug. You pushed out your chest so he would get the hint. He looked down and saw a little clasp sitting between your breasts, its face shining with betrayal.

“Go ahead.” you whispered.

His fingers touched the coolness of the clasp before unfastening it. Your bra bounced back to your sides, your breasts falling out of their cups. You angled your shoulders and let your bra slip down to the floor. Haechan looked at your breasts, your pert nipples standing almost as erect as his cock. When he didn’t immediately touch you, you took his hand and placed them over the softness of your breasts. You kissed him impatiently on his mouth, your body rubbing against his hard cock to tease him. His hands still on your breasts, you pulled your leggings off your body, your panties rolling down with them.

“You can touch me,” you said. “Mr. Swag.”

Joking around with him lightened the mood a little. Haechan laughed, his comfort level rising with each chuckle. Though he didn’t touch you further, he felt confident enough to remove his own clothes. In the light, you could see his body perfectly. His collarbones and neck were on full display. You could see the beginnings of a hickey covering the mole on his neck. You would have to be more careful next time. His nipples were small, his skin glowing. When he breathed in, you could see his rib cage, each delicate rung begging to meet your tongue. A light smattering of hair ran from his belly button down to his cock. His pubes were newly trimmed with the hand of someone very nervous. You wanted a good look at his cock, but he was covering himself with his hands. You kept your eyes traveling down his toned thighs, his knobby knees, and the white socks covering his ankles.

“It feels like you’re judging me,” he said. “Is it bad? Do I look good to you?”

“Bad?” you asked. “You could never look bad. I am missing part of the picture., though”

Haechan looked down at his hands and slowly removed them like he was unveiling a gift. When you saw his cock, you smiled. Hard, he was bigger than you thought he would be. Just from the look of his body, you knew he would come quickly the moment he felt any intense friction. Haechan held so much pent up energy in his body that no amount of jerking off in the dorm shower could release. You knew making him come was in his best interest, but you really wanted him to hold off for as long as possible.

“Beautiful.” you said.

“I think I’m supposed to say that about you,” he said. “I think-”

Your fingers were lightly stroking his happy trail as he spoke, or rather, became quiet. He closed his eyes as your hands tickled up his body until they found his nipples. You bent down and licked his small, dark bud, your tongue wetting him so much he was glistening. Your hands were on his ass, a handful of him being kneaded by your fingers. Once you started touching him, it was you who looked desperate. Unexpectedly, Haechan tucked his hand underneath your chin and brought your face up to look at him. The kiss he gave you was needy, his breathing so heavy you were worried he would come from the sheer excitement of it all.

“On the bed or standing up?” you asked. “Where do you want me?”

It was a simple question, but he couldn’t answer it. If you had your phones in front of you, no doubt Haechan would fire off witty remarks about how he’d have you everywhere. The person before you now was incapable of making a decision, so you made it for him. You spun him around, walking him back into your bed until his knees hit the mattress and his body fell down into a sitting position. He looked up at you with wonder, his mouth parted slightly. You leaned down until your nipple touched his cupid's bow. Haechan opened his top lip wider and took you into his mouth, his eyes darkening as he watched your satisfied expression.

“You have a grip on me that no one else ever has,” you told him. “You little fuck.”

Using his chest, you pushed him back down onto your bed. He wasn’t done sucking on your nipples and doing so made him angry. He tried getting up to finish the job, but you pushed him back down again. His cockiness had returned, his smile baring teeth. Laying down, his cock sprang up and against his stomach. You could see the wetness highlighting his skin. Haechan brought his hands behind his head. You got onto the bed and straddled his thighs. When you took his cock in your hands, his body shivered, but he tried to play it off.

“There is nothing I want more than your cock in my mouth right now.” you said.

“Please.” he said.

“Are you begging?”

“No,” he said. “I would never beg. I’m giving you the option, since I know you want it. I know you want me badly. You’ve dreamed about this, about me. I see the way you look at me when I’m in the practice room, when I lift up my shirt to wipe the sweat from my face. I know you think about me every day.“

“You know too much for your own good.”

“I know,” he said, using that childish voice that always got under your skin. You stroked his cock and watched as he tried controlling his response.

“As I was saying,” you began. “I would love nothing more than to suck your cock, but we can’t do that, because you’ll come too soon.”

Haechan placed a hand over his chest. “You hurt my pride. I’m a man.”

“Exactly,” you said. “And there is nothing wrong with you coming, but I want the first time you come to be inside of me.”

Hearing those words made Haechan lean his head all the way back in utter bliss. His hands scrambled for you, his fingertips scratching down your stomach. You could feel him wanting to whine, to buck his hips up for more, to have your mouth around his cock any way he could. He was used to getting his way with others, but with you, it would be damn near impossible. You moved up his body a little, his cock still in your hands. You hovered over him, waiting to make eye contact. Until then, you would wait to fill yourself with him. When he didn’t give in right away, you stroked his cheek with your other hand so he would be forced. When his eyes finally met yours, the look he gave you was very fitting to his nickname: Devil. Before your arrangement, he had asked about contraceptives and how he wasn’t ready for pregnancy scares. You told him about your birth control and asked him if he wanted to wear condoms. Haechan declined. As you sunk down onto his cock, the raw feeling of him made you more excited.

“I’m going to move slow,” you said. “Okay?”

Haechan didn’t answer. He was overwhelmed by the feeling of being inside of you. He looked down at his cock having disappeared between your legs. When you started riding him as slowly as possible, he couldn’t keep his eyes from watching himself move in and out, in and out. He was moaning, the sounds coming from his mouth high-pitched and frequent enough to make his throat feel sore the next day. You rested your hands against his chest and moved up and down his cock so that he would get the full visual of how wet his shaft was after leaving your pussy.

“You feel good.” you told him.

It wasn’t a lie. Having him between your legs made you feel like you were in control, and you loved that feeling. Haechan looked at you like you were bringing every new sensation to him, a new world, and new emotions. Your body felt different than his own hand. The way you smelled, how you sounded as you rode him, and everything in between made his first time more special. Granted, you were faking a lot of it for his pleasure, but he didn’t need to know that. You focused on how he was feeling, knowing that at any moment he was going to explode. He was hanging on longer than you thought he would, which made you happy because it was possible that he would be ready for another round soon after.

“Haechan,” you moaned. “Haechan. Haechan. Haechan.”

You touched yourself. You flicked your hair over your shoulder. You pretended like his cock was giving you the best sex you ever had, and it worked in your favor. When you thought he would come, his body seizing, his face pulling ugly expressions, Haechan started moving your body off of him. You expected him to lay back and let you fuck him as you wished. You expected him to be thankful to you for giving him his first orgasm with another person, but you did not expect him to steal the lead. Haechan flipped you over until you were on your back, his cock having slipped out of you. For a moment, you laid on the bed in shock, and he moved over you in that same shock, his eyes unfocused. He rubbed his hands over his face and looked down at your body against the sheets. Your body felt empty without him, your pussy throbbing.

“Say my name again.” he grunted.

“Haechan.”

“No,” he said. “My real name.”

Haechan was on top of you, holding his body up so that you could see all of the muscles he never talked about. He was strong and young, and he was ready to fuck.

“Donghyuck,” you said. “Donghyuck. Donghyuck. Donghyuck.”

Haechan lifted your legs up until they were resting on either side of his shoulders. He squatted down low, his own legs bent, his ass hanging off the edge of the bed. You could see a bead of sweat working its way down his chest. He lifted your hips up a little before penetrating you again, his cock thrusting deeper and deeper. He didn’t last long in that position, and you didn’t orgasm, but you were so impressed that it didn’t matter. You watched him coming, his eyes closed, his body stiff and his hands grabbing onto yours, and you were spellbound by him. You wanted all of his cum inside of you, every last drop. You wanted it to fill you up until it dripped out of you, and then you wanted him to stuff his cock inside of you again, until you were the one begging him to say your name.

You jerked Haechan off while his balls were in your mouth. Stroking his length with your palm made the most joyous sounds come from his pretty lips. You sucked on his balls, your tongue soaking them. One of his hands was holding the back of your head, the other was rubbing his wet fingers against his nipples. You had his cock in your mouth a million times since the day you took his virginity, but it was always a delight seeing how wild he went when you surprised him with a slip of the tongue. You let his balls drop out of your mouth before licking a circle around his asshole. Haechan jumped a little, his head lifting up to glare at you.

“You have to warn me when you do that!” he said.

“I thought you liked it?”

“I do,” he said. “I just need to be prepared for it. P-R-E-P-A-R-E-D. Prepared.”

You shimmied your way back up between his legs so that you could suck on his cock instead. He was so handsome looking down at you, his starry eyes focused on the way you took his head past your lips.

“You’re so sexy.” he said.

“I know.” you said. You took his cock out of your mouth and licked the underside, your eyes never leaving his.

“Ayyyy,” he said. “Don’t get too cocky.”

You took him deeper into your mouth, in an attempt to make him come faster. He always lost himself when his cock hit the back of your throat. Each time you were together, it was your inside joke to see who would come the fastest. Most times, you easily won, but Haechan always put up a good fight.

“Baby, the things you do to me.” he whimpered.

The things you do. The things you had done. For weeks you’ve been fucking him, and it’s only getting started.

#haechan #nct #lee donghyuck #haechan smut #donghyuck smut #nct smut #lee donghyuck smut #lee haechan #lee haechan smut #nct fanfiction #haechan fanfiction #big thanks to the anon who asked about haechan and fwb relationships #also big thanks to the person who gave me confidence to write and post this #you know who you are

1K notes · View notes

meghancooking · 4 years

Text

My pitch for the eventual ‘Community Movie’

The film opens in 2023. After a brief bounce back from the efforts of the Save Greendale Committee, Greendale came upon hard times during the global pandemic (due to a poor attempt to transition classes like “Ladders” and “Nicolas Cage: Good or Bad” to an online setting.) Frankie left long ago to help hospitals rearrange their budgets for life saving PPE.

The Dean informs Jeffrey that things have gotten so bad that he has to let him go, and Jeff ends up at Britta’s bar for a drink. On the TV in the corner they see a commercial for a film that looks oddly familiar, about a community college study group that goes on wacky adventures. Jeff looks the movie up online to realize that Abed is the director and the film has a ton of buzz from Indie Film Festivals.

In “Community: The Movie,” Timothy Olyphant stars as Jiff Wanger, with Alexandro Daddario as Allie Anniston, Nicole Byer as Sally Benton, Dev Patel as Abed Nadir (no name change), John David Washington as Trey Burns, and Abed’s hero Harrison Ford as Piers Hawksworth.

Jeff tries to call Abed on the phone and realizes that Abed has changed his phone number since they last spoke. Feeling more disconnected from his old friends than ever, Jeff announces to Britta that they’re going to get the study group back together and confront Abed in L.A., intent on suing him for using their likeness without permission so that they can save Greendale. Britta says, “But neither of our cars can make it across the country.”

“But mine can.”

Jeff and Britta whip around to see Rick. Britta and Rick start making out over the bar counter. Jeff takes the keys from Rick’s hand and goes to “warm up the car.”

In their Honda CR-V, Jeff, Rick, and Britta go to D.C. to pick up Annie. At first she’s reluctant to take time off work, but when she realizes that Greendale is in trouble of closing for good, she throws her FBI badge in a nearby fountain.

Cut to the group looking for Annie’s badge in the water. “I wanted to be like those people that throw their cellphones in the ocean, in movies,” Annie sighs. “But you never think about them going back to get them.”

After they get Annie’s badge they head for Atlanta, Georgia to scoop up Shirley. Shirley’s sons are now old enough to attend college, and it breaks her heart to realize that her old school is closing down. “Not that I want them to go to Greendale,” Shirley adds. “They’re going to an Ivy. But if they need a back-up for their back-up’s back-up…”

Throughout their whole journey the group does their best to find out where Troy is, but no one has heard from him in years. Every time someone wonders aloud if he died in a horrible boating accident, Annie starts sobbing and they turn on the radio. A song by a popular new rapper Kiddish Bambino seems to be always playing whenever they turn the radio on. Shirley says she hates rap but she nods her head along with everyone else.

Rounding out their journey through New Mexico on the way to L.A., the gang stops at a Mexican restaurant on the side of the road. Annie pretends like its Jeff’s birthday to make up for “all those years of birthday cards I owe you.” And Britta says, “What about my birthdays? Are mine less important because he’s a man?” At which point they all tell the waiter they are celebrating a joint five-way birthday. The waiter goes to get the manager to catch them in a lie, and the group worries that they pushed it too far. Until they realize that the restaurant owner is Chang, speaking perfect Spanish. He’s so excited to see them that he says, “Birthdays on the house!” And every patron in the restaurant gets trashed on free margaritas.

As they’re drunkenly catching up, Chang fills them in on what happened to him after season six. With a renewed sense of ambition, Chang realized that he was happiest when he was a student-torturing Spanish teacher. But before he could let him get his job back, the Dean challenged him to actually learn Spanish. He moved to New Mexico to take classes and learn about Latin Culture, and ended up marrying a woman and having three kids. “Now I dog on my kids instead of dogging on students,” Chang says. “It’s great.”

After hearing about their road trip across the country, Chang decides to join them. He makes the joke “And my axe” at an off moment and over-explains his reference. Everyone groans but Rick asks to hear more, because he never actually watched Lord of the Rings, “Though of course I love it in the way that people love things they’ve never seen in person, like the Northern Lights or God,” Rick says genially.

So Jeff, Britta, Annie, Shirley, Rick, and Chang end up in L.A. to storm into Abed’s office, only to be told that he’s getting ready for the theatrical release of “Community: The Movie” at the Chinese Theater. The gang pulls a scheme to get into the premiere and bumps into the movie-star versions of themselves on the red carpet. Classic trope.

When they finally slide into their seats at the theater, the film starts. And it’s amazing. There’s laughter, there’s tears. Rick and Britta hold hands…Jeff and Annie accidentally brush hands but look away as Sara Bareilles’ “Gravity” plays on screen. Chang tries to hold Shirley’s hand but gets slapped away with a “Ben, you’re married” as he defensively says, “As friends. You never hold hands with your friends?”

At the end of the movie Abed stands up for a Q&A. The old study group was moved to tears, so they’re not angry anymore, but Jeff is enraged. He wrestles the microphone away from a fan and wakes to the middle of the aisle to confront Abed.

“That Greendale on screen is a lie built by Disney magic and Timothy Olyphant blood money. Do you know right now the real Greendale is a sinking ship?” Jeff asks. “Our home is about to plummet under the waves and here you are, weaving movie magic to show the ‘perfect’ version of our lives. Well the truth is far from perfect. Because in reality, Abed doesn’t even care about his friends. He hasn’t called in years.”

Jeff starts to tear up as he talks. Abed tilts his head.

“Jeff, this isn’t some Sony Pictures presents Marvel’s Disney project. This was a kickstarter, Zach Braff style. This was my ‘Wish I Was Here,’ but better because I’m not a famous movie star asking people in a lower tax bracket for money. This wasn’t funded by corporations, it was funded by the people.” Abed stands up. “The first tier got donors a ‘Community: The Movie’ pin. The second tier got them a swag bag. And the third tier…well the third tier paid admission for a semester at Greendale Community College. The real one.”

Abed looks out to the audience. “Could all the third tier donors in the audience stand up?”

Jeff, Britta, Annie, Shirley, Chang, and Rick look on in shock as three-fourths of the audience get to their feet. Even Timothy Olyphant stands up from the front row. “What?” He asks his co-stars. “They’ve got a class on Nicolas Cage. Is he good?”

Jeff approaches the stage and Abed helps him up. Their silhouettes are backlit by the stage lights as they hug. “But…” Jeff says. “You never called.”

“I threw my phone in the ocean when I got to L.A.” Abed shrugs. “I see it in movies all the time when people have fresh starts. I didn’t realize it would be so hard to get back.”

The rest of the gang comes up from the audience to hug Abed. The Q&A host (maybe a Josh Horowitz type) says “The real cast of Community!” as the crowd cheers.

End-credits scene is Abed and Troy hanging out in the green room after the movie premiere, just chatting normally. Everyone else stares at him.

“And after I found Abed in California I became a famous rapper and I changed my name to Kiddish Bambino,” Troy says, finishing his story. “You can kind of do whatever you want when you’re a millionaire.”

Troy and Abed do their handshake.

“But you never called,” Annie chimes in.

“Oh I threw my phone in the ocean like Day One on the boat,” Troy says. “Not to get a fresh start. I was just trying to give a mermaid my phone number.”

“Troy got heat stroke 12 times,” Abed says.

“The doctors say my brain is ‘basically’ normal,” Troy says.

“Same,” Abed responds.

Handshake.

“Don’t you work at Subway?” Troy asks Rick.

The group laughs.

End credits (Elroy watches “Community: The Movie” in his RV after it comes out on DVD, with Julie from Natalie is Freezing at his side. “I knew most of those people you know. They’re all uglier in person. Nice kids, though.”)

-------

What would you add? What would you throw out? I know there's too much Rick but it can't be helped. How else would they get a Honda CR-V, America's dream car?

#community #community movie #community tv show #alison brie #gillian jacobs #yvette nicole brown

30 notes · View notes

red-rose-9072 · 4 years

Text

Hi there! I'm still new to Tumblr and this is my first fic here. Note I am still a rookie at this , so my grammar kinda sucks and I did this at like 11 at night when I should be sleeping. Hope you enjoy this!❤️💜

• • •

The audience was full of life , chanting the K/DA fanchant over and over again until it became like a song to her. Light sticks flashed in an ocean of colours , illuminating the stage with bright light that became one with the small silver dots in the sky.

She was nervous...

Excited...

Anxious...

Maybe all in one? Who wouldn't be?

Ahri was sitting on one of the chairs in the backstage lounge , her hair and make up done and now she just had to wait for the girls to get ready and start the show. She has done many shows and live performances , but this one feels ... Different.

Ahri cast her blue gaze to Kai'sa , the young dancer was stretching and warming her muscles up for the performance. Her hair tied into a high ponytail and her crystal wings floating behind her back. Ahri loved watching her dance , Kai'sa looks like a graceful butterfly when she is dancing and her wings hover behind her in every move. Like she was in another world , in her own world when she hears the music and dances her heart out.

Akali was talking to Evelyyn on the couch opposite her , both seemed deep in conversation to know the fox was looking at them. Akali , the youngest (and cutest) member of K/DA somehow was an acception to Evelyyn. Eve was the diva of the group , the girl who doesn't take no for an answer , who likes to make fans drop dead when she walks by. But under all that , she is Evelyyn , the warm hearted friend who helped her when she was a soloist and the group's unnie.

Akali and Eve get along with eachother pretty well , the fandom is crazy over them. When Akali joined K/DA , Evelyyn immediately started treating her like she was her baby.

Ahri smiled softly at the two , Eve being a softie to their maknae was something that can melt anyone's heart. She remembers when she was young like Akali , full of wonder , ambition , pride and excitement. Always eager to show off her skills to other artists and dazzling others with her talent and beauty. The difference was that Akali had three older members to look up to , while Ahri had to peruse her dreams on her own.

There was a small giggle coming from across the room , so Ahri looked at the source of the giggle and saw Seraphine. The blue haired girl was talking to the make-up artist , smiling sweetly and blushing when the make-up artist complemented her. Seraphine was so young , yet held so much talent and so much potential. Blades immediately fell in love with her , Ahri often sees Tweets of fans completing Seraphine. However , not many fans agree with the Chinese singer , saying that she should song Korean and not Chinese because K/DA was a Kpop group.

Ahri advised Seraphine to ignore those comments and look at the positive ones. I mean , Chinese in a Korean song isn't that bad (right?).

Ahri saw her younger self in Seraphine. She has never felt this close to a fan before , and Seraphine was a huge fan of Ahri , once she came to visit her and the songstress and to quickly stash all her posters and drawings of Ahri under her bed. She found it cute , how she gets flustered when Ahri would talk to her or simply touch her.

She was snapped back to reality when Kai'sa sat next to her. "Daydreaming?", The dancer asked. Ahri shook her head and cleared her throat like a profession. "No , just simply looking at my band mates", she said. Kai'sa gave her a smile and patted her back , she than gave a content sigh. "Blades sound beautiful when they say our fanchant , don't they?", She asked. Ahri nodded , feeling her heart spring in joy at how happy they sounded.

"You seem nervous darling , something wrong?", came Evelynn's voice. Ahri sighed and her shoulders tenses up , she looked at the amber eyed singer. "How did you know?", she asked to which Eve chuckled. She than pointed to her crystal tail that was curled up besides her. "Your tail is all twitchy , like a fox worrying about loosing its prey", she said. Ahri groaned and silently cursed Eve for knowing her so well , how was she that good?

Akali sat up and leaned over so her elbows where resting on her legs and her back hunched , azure eyes meeting hers. "It's ok to feel nervous , unnie. From a leader's point of view , I worry whether my band mates will give a stunning performance or trip on their own feet".

"Huh? Your a leader?"

"True Damage , hello?"

"Oh yea , forgot about that , haha"

Akali smiled and giggled , her eyes crinkling. "Nah , it's ok. A lot of people still sees me as K/DA's small and cute baby , ignoring the fact that I lead my own group", Akali said. Evelyyn wrapped her arms around her waist. "Aw , but you're too small to be leader", Evelynn joked and Akali lightly hit her arm. "Yah! I'm taller than Ekko! Kid can't even reach the top shelf".

Ahri rolled her eyes. "Neither can you", she said and Kai'sa threw her head back to laugh , that weird laugh that everyone has grown used to by now.

Seraphine made her way to them , Ahri patted the spot next to her and she sat next to her. Ahri smiled and let her tail rest on her lap , Sera's cheeks tinted a bright pink and she couldn't help but giggle at her. "Your so cute", she teased and Seraphine pouted.

"Five more minutes than were live , ladies!"

Now the butterflies was fluttering madly in her stomach. She has never felt so nervous before , only that time when she debuted. If her past self could look at her now , she would wonder how she made here.

"I'm nervous , you guys?", Seraphine asked. Kai'sa nodded in agreement while Akali waves her off. "Nervous? Never heard of her", she said with swag. Eve rose her brow at the rapper before shrugging. Ahri sighed and fiddled with her fingers , ok , she got this. No , they got this. K/DA has got this.

• • •

"I'll show you what I'm made of

rise to the occasion

got fears but I face them , oh , oh..."

Ahri sang her song over her mic , smiling in happiness at how she saw the happy faces and how they sand along with her. Some mumbling gibberish when the Korean parts came , but she was too happy to care about their pronunciation.

The rest of the group was dancing around and having fun while jamming to her song , Evelynn and Seraphine adding vocals here and there , while Kai'sa and Akali danced together. Smiling , laughing , singing along and having fun.

When the song came to an end , the audience cheered and K/DA hurried to the centre. Ahri gave a friendly wave to Blades and started talking over the mic. "First of all , I would like to thank all of you for coming to our show. It means the world to us , to have our fans all in one place to listen to our songs and sing along. I am also very grateful for all the hard work the staff has put in this performance , and for all the love and support we received even in POP/STARS era". The audience cheered and several 'awws' could be heard.

Ahri than held Kai'sa's hand , who was he closest to her , and smiled at her group. "Secondly , I would like to thank my band mates for being here with me. All my life , I've been chasing my dream on my own , but now I have four amazing sisters to share the spotlight with me. You taught me so much , and I've learnt a lot from you. As a leader , I am so proud of all of you".

The audience went wild when Akali hugged Ahri from behind and Kai'sa wiped her eyes. Evelynn smiled and embraced the gumiho and soon Seraphine joined in and Kai'sa too , trying to control her tears. Ahri would have cried too , those sentences didn't seem enough to her , but to them it was more than enough. It was everything.

Ahri laughed and turned to Eve , a smirk on her lips. "Any messages to Blades?".

"Don't let anybody with bad eyebrows tell you look ugly", she said. There was a string of laughter and applauses , Akali leaned into the mic with a goofy smile on her face. "And if anybody says K/DA or Blades sucks , tell them to fu-", Kai'sa covered Akali's mouth before she could curse live at their performance. Akali shrugged , not looking guilty.

Ahri smiled and turned back to the audience. A sea of smiling faces and lights. "From us K/DA , thank you for attending our show. Keep shining my stars and we love you all!". She said and she blew a kiss to the audience.

This where she belonged. With her members and her fans underneath the stars , and for once , she felt like she finally accomplished her dream. But it was far from done.

#K/DA #League of legends #ahri #Evelynn #Kai'sa #Akali #Seraphine #i did this instead of sleeping

8 notes · View notes

mirror-juliet · 4 years

Text

~Searching For Soulmates~ Park Seonghwa X Male Reader

Requested by Jax on tumblr.

Since there isn't a lot of male readers that read my things (To my knowlege) I decided to make this one special by using Jax's name, the one who requested this. I hope you enjoy it bub.

Tagging: @themainineveruse @atinybrew @vocalyunho @hongjoongs-hoe

Love story's are so over-written these days. So hard to write about. They say write the unexpected, but everyone's already done the unexpected. If you write it wrong, nothing will become of it. If you excel in writing the impossible-you are praised beyond belief. Unexpected love story's are impossible. Most story's are Frankensteins of other stories, stitched together by a dream and desperation. But the well known authors dreamt those dreams before you could write them. You'd just be copying them if you made a story close to the lines of theirs, if the two characters hate eachother, or if they don't know eachother. Who's to say you didn't dream those dreams first, And why wont the world let you dream those dreams more than once. Aren't dreams supposed to be eternal. An extension of our thoughts, how can someones thoughts be wrong. There is no right way to think, it isn't a math formula with a set outcome. So why have people decided that we must think in a set algorithm?

The world's too busy thinking about their own love theory to worry about a simple love story written for a college literature class. Only the teacher would read it, so why's Jaxson stressing about it so much? There are set outcomes to what grade he'll get so it doesn't really matter how he writes the report.

"Here's your Pomegranate potion, Weirdo. You come to a coffee shop and order tea." Maggie, Jaxon's favorite barista and best friend since they were younger ruffles his hair. "You're the one who dragged me here today. I could have finished my report at home."

"There was no way i was going to let you stay cooped up in that apartment one more day. It's a lovely atmosphere here," She's not wrong about the atmosphere, it has the right amount of teenager swag mixed with an almost professional look. "Plus if you get bored you can entertain yourself by watching me train the new guy." Jaxson pays close attention to Maggie now

"That's today?.. And you are going to be the one to train him? Lord help this shop now." Maggie attempts to wack Jaxson upside the head, but he's too fast for her tiny fist of rage "That isn't funny Jax. I'm a good trainer, After all i was trained by the glorious booknerd that is you." She bows and holds her hand out gesturing to him. The boy wonders why he's friends with such a weirdo in the first place, but he supposes it's because he acts just like her. "What was he like, the new guy. Do you know?"

"You could always ask me what i'm like, pretty boy." Jaxson freezes in place, fear painting him as he watches Maggie wear the most shit-eating grin of the century. "Seonghwa, it's nice to see you again. This is Jax, he's off today but he's one of the workers here. Jax meet Seonghwa." Jaxson turns to greet Seonghwa, But holy God's why did he have to call him pretty boy? He's the pretty boy for gods sake! "You were talking up a storm just a moment ago, what happened; Cat got your tongue?" Curse him for having such a beautiful face because Jaxson does nothing but stare and hold his mouth agape! Seonghwa chuckles and goes behind the counter next to Maggie. "When do i start coach?"

Jesus his smile is pretty and he knows it. Jaxson watches him roll up his sleeves into uniform cuffs, his forearms are way too toned for his good, his tan skin extenuates them so much. Despite how good looking he is, he is quite clumsy with the espresso machine. It's expected since he explained to Maggie "I don't like bitter things so I've never used one of these." He has coffee grinds all over his apron and at the bottom of his white shirt. Jaxson had given up working on his report to examine Seonghwha and his arms. Both of them were covered in tattoo's, he cant help but wonder if one of them are perhaps his soul-mark he tries to hide in the cluster of ink. Maggie never tried to hide her mark, though it did look quite odd to only have the veins of butterfly wings on her cheek. Her soulmate, Yeosang did try to cover his up. It looked like 'an unattractive pink blob' in his opinion. Though, Maggie thought it looked cute in pictures, when they kissed for the first time, their marks melded into one. Now Maggie spends most of her weekends looking for Jaxson's soulmate even though he's made it very obvious he doesn't want to find them. After searching forever, he got tired and was convinced that his soulmate had either not existed or died before he had ever met them.

"Seonghwa you'll be okay, i'm just leaving you to make some of these for lunch hour. You're doing much better than an hour ago." Maggie sings sweet words to Seonghwa who seems to be shaking like a leaf in the wind. "I don't think i should make anything for anyone to consume."

"Okay, make Jaxson something and then prove me wrong. If he decides it's too horrible then he'll take your place for the day and we'll train you more."

"Why do you have to drag me into this?" Jaxson groans, he was enjoying his day off-well, not really; But Maggie doesn't know that! Then again, she probably does given the knowing look on her face. After a few minutes of a silent stare match between the two he gives in. "Make me an iced americano." The tan color leaves Seonghwa's face as Maggie leans against the counter, leaving him all alone with the coffee maker and his wits (Which arent a lot when it comes to the machine). His toned arms are clumsy with everything, making a much bigger mess than needed, Jaxson could have sworn everytime something got dirty Seonghwa cringed. After five minutes of entertainment Seonghwa Shakily sets the drink in front of Jaxson. "Whats wrong newbie, see a ghost?" Seonghwa glares at that, upset his own joke was used against him. In retaliation he mutters something under his breath that Maggie nor Jax can quite make out.

He takes the drink and puts it to his lips, only having it on his tastebuds for mm, less than two seconds before spitting it back in the cup. He wipes his mouth and grabs his things. "I'll be back out in a minute. Don't let him near customers." Seonghwa watches Jaxson walk into the employees lounge and come back out in uniform, buttoning his sleeves up and shoving his way behind the bar. "I want you to clear off tables, you'll have to move fast because this place gets packed in about fifteen minutes." But Seonghwa isn't moving, Only staring down at the shorter male. "What?" Jax's getting impatient as he's wasting time standing around when he could be preparing for the forty people he's going to have to deal with for the next two hours.

"Can i take you on a date?" Maggie drops the cup she's holding, hot espresso now on her new martins, the only thing saving her from burns. "What?" Is all Jaxson says because Seonghwa's hot! This is a manga scenario that only happens every blood moon, no love story has ever prepared him for this moment because any situation in a manga would never be accepted by society. And what't the point? Whats the point of dating someone that isn't your soulmate? "Go clean tables please."

The three of them don't talk about the situation the rest of the day, only trading words to explain an order or if they need to wash more mugs. But they do watch eachother. Seonghwa watches Jaxson make coffee and tea at an alarming rate, Jaxson watches Seonghwa clean tables with so much care; never leaving a cup ring. And Maggie watches the tension in the room between the two grow it's like candy burning to the side of a pot. Sickening but sweet. At the end of lunch rush, it's nearly time for the quaint little coffee shop to close it's eyes for a good night's rest. You think for how many people visit it, it would stay open longer than Three pm.

Yeosang came to pick up Maggie for their date night leaving Jaxson to close at the shop. That isn't the plan tonight because for the love of Hade's Jaxson cant figure out why the manager decided to hire Seonghwa other than his looks. Every drink he's had Seonghwa make in the past thirty minutes he has managed to burn or fuck up magically somehow. "Why is making coffee so hard?" The tall man groans out, backing against the counter away from the machine. "It really isn't. You've just added way too many steps to it. Here hang on." Jaxson grabs a fresh cup and starts up the machine once again. The poor thing might be overused by tomorrow.

It's crazy how simple Jaxson makes it look to Seonghwa, not only that but how elegant he is while doing it. His fingers flip switches effortlessly, pouring the milk into a beautiful leaf shape he's convinced the shorter man shouldn't be able to make. But he almost does it with his eyes closed. Seonghwa should be able to make designs like that- "What?" He says, realizing Jaxson must have asked him a question given the quizzical look on his face.

Jaxson's laugh is pretty, Seonghwa decides. It's just the right amount of baritone with the ever so slightest bit of soprano. "I'm telling you to take the coffee so you can see what it's supposed to taste like."

"Aren't we supposed to be teaching me how to make this instead of drink it?" Jax jumps to sit on the counter, taking his own teacup in his hands. "I needed a break and the machine is making sad noises, so here we are. Go on, taste perfection." Jaxson's cocky words brink an obnoxious smirk to the older's lips. Because there's no way his coffee is that good.

But it is

Seonghwa isn't one for bitter taste, hell he doesn't like coffee. But the cup Jaxson handed to him it seems he's refusing to put down. "Woah, woah. You're gonna give yourself a stomach ache." Said boy causing concern hops down to drag the cup away from him. "I'm sorry, i didn't think you had to drink it slow." A pinkish hue covers Seonghwa's neck. "I don't like coffee usually...." He trails off.

"Seonghwa." Jaxson's voice is gentle, Seonghwa wonders if he's gotten sad somehow. "Why are you working here? You don't like Coffee and you absolutely suck dick at making it. So why?" Jax hops on the counter once again and Seonghwa has to avert his eyes from the smaller male, intrusive thoughts invading his head. He shakes his head hoping to get rid of the thought like an etch and sketch. Anywhere but his eyes is better, does he not think before talking? Seonghwa thinks. "I, like most people in the world need money. This quaint little coffee shop so happened to be the only one hiring. So i had to get it before i ran out of money for rent. Why are you working here?" A question for a question, fair enough right? "I like the aesthetic of this place, it's calming to me. And it pays fairly well." The two sit in silence, sipping their respective drinks, only sharing glances at one another.

"Say whats on your mind pretty boy, You've been looking at me with a question in your eyes." Seonghwa smirks, only making Jaxson blush harder from the nickname. God he wished Seonghwa would use a different name. "Sorry. I was just wondering where you used to work before here. "

"I worked in a tattoo shop." He crosses his arms, the drink from before long since drained. "It was a pretty good gig too, i was the only apprentice that was allowed to work on people, plus i got half off tattoo's...if i let them do it drunk." Seonghwa looks up into the air, a meloncholy smile on his face. "It was the best job of my life."

"Can i ask you another question, if you don't mind." He lets out an approving sound, not bothering to look down. "If you were so happy....Why leave?" Jax realizes he's touched a soft spot when Seonghwa looks back at him, his eyes are hurting, hidden behind a small smile. "Aren't you just a nosy little one." He takes a deep breath "The old man that owned the shop passed, it was taken over by his daughter. She decided to turn it into a hair salon, kicking everyone that worked there out of a job. It was quite selfish of her, don't you think?"

Jaxson nods his head, wondering what it must have felt like to suddenly loose a friend and a means of living. Suddenly the cup of cold tea is more intriguing than the saddened face of Seonghwa. "My turn~" Said man sings out, tipping Jaxson's head up with his finger. "When can i take you out on a date?"

"O-oh, you were serious about that......."

"Why wouldn't i be?" Jax pulls away from him, hopping down to begin cleaning dishes. "Because i don't like dates." Seonghwa takes the cup out of his hand. "So, don't think of it as a date. Think it as if were just a couple of friends hanging out for an afternoon." A sarcastic chuckle leaves Jax's lips. "But it's still a date."

"Will you at least give it a shot? If you don't enjoy yourself in the first fifteen minutes i'll even take you home." Both of them stop movement, Jaxson wondering why Seonghwa is so hellbent on getting him to go on a date. "Fine. Only fifteen minutes, where will you be taking me?" Jax snatches the mug back from Seonghwa. "That." He pokes Jaxson's nose "Is for me to know and you to find out, tomorrow at two?"

"If you mean a.m. then hell no."

***********

Seonghwa had in fact not meant two am, but precisely when the autumn's sun hits Jaxson's glasses just right to blind him. Where even was Seonghwa? He had told Jaxson to meet him in front of the Cafe five minutes early just in case he got there before.

He hadn't.

He hadn't shown up the first five minutes after the intended meet time. Where the hell was he? Turning the corner onto the Cafe street, the loud motorcycle that was annoying Jax approached in front of the Cafe. Only once the rider pulled off his helmet did he realize Seonghwa was the knight under the mask. A knight wearing a leather jacket to reveal a blue floral shirt tucked into black skinny jeans with no chains this time. Instead he's swapped them out for makeup smudged onto his face, making him seem even more attractive than he already is. "You expect me to get on that? Wearing this." He motions to his outfit, denim jeans, a striped sweater and sneakers. Obviously not appropriate apparel for a Motorcycle. "You'll be fine pretty boy. Hop on." Seonghwa pats the seat behind him, pulling out a second helmet. "The five minutes i spent waiting count against your time."

"The ride doesn't though, Deal?"

Jaxson wishes the ride would have counted against Seonghwa, they've been driving for the past thirty minutes on the highway. He swears Seonghwa's speeding on purpose for Jax to have to cling onto his torso so the small boy wouldn't fly off the bike. Once the bike ride was finally starting to be bearable, it stops. "We here?" A chuckle from Seonghwa. "Do you think i stopped here for gas?" It's an aquarium, It could be worse, it could be a movie theater. "C'mon, i wanna show you a lot here."

A lot he did show Jaxson, from river bass to sharks in a dive tank. He even payed for the extra experiences like holding hermit crabs or feeding the sea turtle from a pole. Jaxson has to admit, he is having fun; he didn't leave two hours ago when the fifteen minutes were up. "Oh, c'mon we're at the touch tank!" Seonghwa Pulls Jaxson through sliding doors to a room with quite a large touch tank in the middle. In it are stingrays of all sizes. He leaves momentarily to come back with two small cups of something foul smelling. "We can feed them by hand." Seonghwa hands the cup of sardines to Jaxson, not waiting for him to grab one before taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. "Just put it between your knuckles, their teeth are on their bellies so don't be afraid."

Easy for him to say as he seems to have no fear towards the slimy sea pancakes, his arm is already submerged past his elbow, getting his rolled up sleeve wet. "This big one i named Calvin. Say hi Calvin." The large stingray swims on the bottom to take the fish from his human friend. He even lets Seonghwa give him rubs and pit pats. It's quite cute to see him acting so young and happy. "Well go on, the worst that can happen is one of them tickle you."

Jaxson mustered up the courage to roll up his sleeves, only dipping his hand about forearm deep. Shortly a small sea pancake fly's over and goes straight for the fish. Thanking the boy by flapping his wings against his arm. More cute giggles coming from Seonghwa. The more fish he goes through, Jaxon finds himself moving closer and closer to Seonghwa. Eventually the two are brushing hands, Seonghwa startles him by grabbing ahold of it. "If you wanted to hold hands you could have asked." He smiles, not one of shitery or mockery. But a genuine smile, directed at Jaxson.

A warm tingle pricks both of their arms, on the verge of being hot. "Look." Jaxson points to their interlocked arms. A white snake being engraved into the knot of his black snake. The opposite of Seonghwa. He freaks out and pulls his arm out of the water to inspect the new tattoo. "Wha-"

"Mommy Mommy look! They got their soul-mark!" A little girl bounces next to them, pulling on her mother's arm. "Is that what this is?"

"It looks like it." Seonghwa hands a paper towel to the smaller of them. "Wanna go get dinner?" It took some convincing but Jax finally agreed to go to dinner, there they talked about what it meant, and how Jaxson could have possibly missed the white snake in the cluster of Seonghwa's tattoo's. It is the only white tattoo he has after all.

A/N: This feels kinda bad compared to my other works but my friend who read it over says it quite nice. (They prefer to remain anon) Jax bub i hope you liked this. I had some troubles making it but i think it's okay. Remember to like and reblog if you're reading this on tumlr

#ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez reactions #ateez x reader #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa scenarios #Seonghwa #park seonghwa scenarios #park seonghwa fanfic

37 notes · View notes

tjkiahgb · 5 years

Text

Episode Recap: 3.20, “We Were Here”

Guys, I’m sorry. I know the whole idea is, oh, tjkiahgb does his funny little recap and makes his jokes and all that.

I don’t know what to do about this episode.

I feel like this recap is just going to be a bunch of screencaps and me writing “I’m emotional!” underneath each of them. I’m going to have to do 15 paragraphs on Celia in a dinosaur costume just to have anything to say.

Alright, well, let’s see if I can pull myself together long enough to do this.

OH MY GOD, IT’S THE LAST “PREVIOUSLY ON ANDI MACK” WE’RE EVER GOING TO SEE. I NEED TO LIE DOWN!

Okay. I’m back. Let’s try this again.

For the last time, our episode begins at Celia’s house.

Celia’s all packed and ready for a trip. She gives Bex her orders and lays down the law.

Bex is like, come on, mom, you know we’re going to have a party.

And Celia’s like, yeah.

Consider this my wedding gift.

Celia departs for places unknown and...

OH NO IT’S THE LAST TIME WE’LL EVER SEE THE INTRO! HELP MEEEEE!

At Bex’s, Andi and Bex gather supplies for the party.

Bex is like, oh thank God we still have those. It’s not a party until the cheaply made SWAG sunglasses make an appearance.

They start making a list of the essentials for a party: food, balloons, glow-sticks.

Bex says she’s been meaning to get one of those. So, wait, she doesn’t already have one in the apartment’s emergency preparedness kit? What happens if there’s a natural disaster?

Bowie wanders in and they let him know there’s going to be a party. Bex and Andi start wondering what they’re going to wear to the party. Andi runs off to decide, but Bowie holds Bex back for a second to talk to her.

Bowie goes to retrieve a letter he brought in from the mailbox.

But, more importantly:

THE CAT! An appearance in the finale for The Cat! He’s been here since season one, he deserves it!

Bowie tells Bex there’s a situation. Andi has received a letter from SAVA.

The two wonder about the letter. Acceptance letters usually have a lot of paperwork and such in them and arrive in bigger envelopes. Rejection letters, on the other hand, are usually just a piece of paper that says “Thanks but no thanks.” on it.

They worry about how sad it’ll make Andi if it’s a rejection letter, and don’t want to ruin her night with that possibility, so they decide to keep it quiet for now.

Then Andi appears and Bex sits on the letter. Andi tells her she found something for her to wear, so Bex gets up and Bowie jumps on the letter like it’s a grenade.

Once he thinks the coast is clear, he gets off of it, but then Andi appears again and Bowie crumples up the letter in his hands to hide it and does this completely natural thing...

Oh, don’t mind me, just listening to my hands.

Andi tells him she picked out something for him to wear, too, and runs off.

Bowie examines the state of the letter.

On the bright side, if it is a rejection letter, you can always say this is how it showed up and trash SAVA for lacking the decency to take any care in mailing their letters. I mean, if this is how they mail stuff, imagine how little care they show in other places! Who would want to go to such a school anyway, right?

That night, everything is in place for the party.

Bex comes walking down the stairs in her wedding dress, which looks nice but feels impractical for a night of partying.

Andi tells her how beautiful she looks.

There’s a knock at the door. Andi lets Bowie in. He’s wearing his father’s tux.

Andi starts up some music and invites the bride and groom to the floor for their first dance.

And-- oh GOD it’s the song from the first season.

Well, we’re six minutes in and I guess this is going to mark the point of the episode where I start going under and just never recover.

The party is in full swing now. Cyrus finds Buffy watching Marty from across the room as he chats up another girl. Cyrus asks her if things are still weird between the two of them but she doesn’t know. He asks her what she would like things to be like between them.

Buffy feels that Marty doesn’t like her anymore. Like like. Cyrus doesn’t believe that’s true, but Buffy says Marty said it himself.

He’s like, you’re really going to believe the word of a known liar like Marty? If he’s so honest, what’s his last name? And don’t you dare say Fromdaparty.

Then TJ walks in and Buffy’s like, perfect timing, let’s get off my thing and onto yours, Cyrus.

And TJ’s like...

*waves in goofy*

And Cyrus is like...

*waves in goofy back*

Look, in fairness, there’s no way to wave enthusiastically without looking goofy. That’s why we invented that like, hand up thing, where you just put your palm out and hold it there for a second. But that’s for business scenarios and not parties. You’re at a party and see the boy you’re crushing on, you do a goofy, enthusiastic wave. It’s how it goes.

Then Kira walks in and the atmosphere instantly drops.

If some random kid came running in and shouted that they found a dead opossum on the floor of the bathroom, it could not have made the mood in the room worse. There’s a non-zero chance it could’ve made things better because at least we’re wondering where the opossum came from now.

Buffy assures Cyrus that the reason TJ is hanging out with Kira is not because he likes her, but he doesn’t agree. He thinks that ship has sailed.

So Buffy and Cyrus commiserate, both thinking they’ve lost their opportunity to get their man.

Later, Kira and TJ watch from the sidelines as the others dance.

How did Cyrus take and pass a dance class and get worse at dancing?

Kira asks TJ why he doesn’t want to dance. He says he just doesn’t want to.

Kira notes Cyrus dancing and starts to laugh.

TJ’s like, what’s so funny? Kira says look at Cyrus.

TJ’s like, yeah, he’s great, but Kira’s still laughing at him. TJ tells her she can’t do that -- laugh at someone for their dancing. Kira’s like, you thought it was funny. TJ’s like, no, I thought it was fun. There’s a big difference.

So, Kira’s like, okay, here we go again.

She says that if she made him pick between her and Cyrus, he’d pick Cyrus. TJ’s like, the fact that you’re even going to the place where you’d think of making me pick proves how wrong this all is.

Kira says that answers her question and exits the party.

The party continues on.

Electronic music starts, the lights go down, and the dinosaur descends the staircase.

Nice to get one last sentence in before the end where I can write what’s literally happening on the screen, take a step back and go, what the hell did I just write?

Everyone gathers round to watch the neon dinosaur dance. They chant “Go Andi! Go Andi!”

Then Andi shows up.

Their next guess is Jonah, but then he shows up, too. He couldn’t find the dinosaur costume because it had been stolen by the mystery dancer.

The music ends and the audience cheers for the dancing dinosaur, who finally reveals herself, ripping off her face mask like a Scooby Doo villain.

Everyone gasps. They’re like, uh oh, the party police are here and they showed up in a T-Rex costume for some reason.

But then Celia’s like...

Everyone wants to know what Celia’s doing back. She’s like, well, I got four hours out and realized I’d rather be attending one of these parties than on a vacation somewhere so I turned around and came back and snuck into the house through a second story window so no one would see me and inflated this dinosaur suit and put it on and waited for the right music to start and shut off the lights and came downstairs and performed this dance routine. Was it worth it? I spent the whole four hours on the way back practicing that “No parties, just kidding” thing.

And everyone’s like, yeah, it was alright.

And Celia’s like, okay, cool.

She’s like, I’m glad I tried fun. And then she walks off and that’s the last we ever see of her. From strict mom to dancing grandma in a dinosaur suit. What a ride. I hope she enjoys her vacation.

Later on, TJ has gotten on stage with a piano. He starts playing the intro to “Born This Way”.

TJ, NO! We don’t have the money for the rights to that song! Are you crazy? Can I interest you in some generic production music that can be purchased for a tenth the cost? Maybe something in the public domain? How about we all sing “Row, Row, Row Your Boat”?

But it’s too late. TJ, to celebrate his liberation from Kira, elects to come out to the entire party by showing he knows how to play the gayest song of all time on the piano by heart.

The whole party is like, oh, this is nice. He’s playing some music. And then Cyrus is like...

SURPRISE! I have a microphone and this is a performance now!

Amber starts singing, too. TJ calls up Jonah and/or Bowie to get on stage and provide some guitar, but then Bex is like...

SURPRISE! I have a guitar and I know how to play it!

Jonah and Andi get on stage and get thrown mics.

Buffy grabs a mic and joins in. The entire cast can sing! It’s a musical miracle.

Cyrus joins TJ on the stage and they sing together.

Bowie at some point also wandered up with his own guitar and joined Bex.

Everyone performs in the song, except for Marty, who just kinda sings from the sidelines like, “Eh, this is nice but pop’s not my genre.”

The song comes to a finish.

Everyone celebrates how good that was despite it never having been rehearsed.

A gosh-dang musical miracle, I tell ya.

Later on outside, Jonah finds Andi and tells her he has something for her. Andi immediately panics. Jonah reassures her it is not one of his famous terrible gifts, like the piece of rice with Andi’s misspelled name on it. He asks if that was the worst present ever.

Jonah says this isn’t a present anyway.

He found their bracelet. The one thought lost for so long. Well, he didn’t find it.

Oh, Judy Bartholomew, you never cease to impress!

Jonah offers it back to Andi, who promises to make it disappear forever. But Jonah says, he actually wanted to know if he could keep it. It’s a great bracelet and he’s always liked it.

Andi puts the bracelet on him. She wonders what things would’ve been like if they’d met when they were older and more mature.

Well, older, at least.

Back inside the party, Buffy finds Marty at his usual party position, hanging around the food table. She starts reenacting the conversation from their first meeting. They get to the “eat a live frog” bit and Marty can’t continue.

Buffy tells him that she didn’t think that. She found him funny. Marty warns her that she is dangerously close to complimenting him. She tells him it was a compliment.

Buffy wants to try having a conversation to see if they can. So they ask each other how their day was and both agree they had fine days. Marty asks her what the next step is and Buffy decides the next step is to leave.

Buffy heads outside, but Marty chases after her. He says he thinks he messed it up and wants to try the straightforward thing again. He tells her to go first.

Yep, that’s straightforward. Marty compliments her on how straightforward it was. Buffy tells him that’s all she wanted him to know, in case he ever changes his mind about liking her, but Marty’s like...

He goes in for a kiss.

They smile at each other and head back into the party.

Cyrus, meanwhile, heads to the backyard where he finds TJ sitting on...

T H E B E N C H.

Cyrus asks what happened to Kira. TJ says he poured water on her and she melted. Boy’s dropping Judy Garland movie references now. Really laying it on thick.

TJ says Kira’s not a nice person, but Cyrus reminds him people used to say that about him, almost verbatim.

Cyrus says he knows that, but there are things he didn’t know, like that TJ played piano. TJ tells him his mom is a piano teacher. Cyrus didn’t know that either. TJ promises he’s not that mysterious, just ask him anything.

TJ panics. He’s like, oh, you went right for the kill shot. He doesn’t want to say what his name is. He says there are only like five living souls on this planet who know what TJ stands for, and they are all of Kippen blood.

TJ’s really digging himself a hole here with Cyrus. The more you sell the mystery of this, the more a kid like Cyrus will want to know.

“My name’s only ever been said out loud once before, by the doctor who filled out the birth certificate, and then he disappeared, never to be seen again! Mythology says that my name used to be sung by the Sirens, who’d use it to lure unsuspecting sailors to their dooms! Legend says there’s a secret cave in the Gobi Desert, and that if you shout my name into it, a trap door will open revealing billions of dollars in hidden treasure! So surely you must understand, I can’t possibly tell you what it is.”

Cyrus says if he doesn’t learn what TJ’s full name is, he will literally die of curiosity. Now faced with the impending death of his crush, TJ realizes he must make the ultimate sacrifice to save his life and tell him what his name is. First, he swears him to secrecy. Cyrus swears.

TJ tells him his parents were way into music, so they named him after their favorite artists:

This is where I’d make a joke like, “It could’ve been worse, they could’ve named him...” but I don’t have a way to finish that sentence. I guess like, Beethoven Mozart, so then he couldn’t even use his initials or they’d be B.M.?

You know, though, it’s such an odd name, it becomes immediately endearing.

To Cyrus as well. They didn’t come all this way, accepting each other through everything, to be stopped in the finale by bad dancing or weird names.

TJ says his grandparents stepped in to intervene. They were like, this is preposterous and we’re not going to spend what short time remains of our lives on so many syllables! He’s TJ!

TJ asks if there’s anything else Cyrus wants to know and then he makes just the ever-so-slightest of hand movements toward him and I’m telling you right now, I don’t know if I will ever be okay watching this.

I’m serious. I don’t know when I’ll be able to watch this scene and see that hand movement and not get emotional. Definitely not now, and I can’t imagine anytime soon.

Cyrus sees his hand. He asks TJ is there’s anything else he wants to tell him.

TJ asks Cyrus if there’s anything he wants to tell him.

They grab each other’s hand.

And both let out this nervous exhale.

And they hold each other’s hand and smile at each other as the screen fades to black.

Just the two of them, together, in their own little world.

I get that people might have wanted more, more words, more actions, and I don’t necessarily disagree. I don’t think there’s a hypothetical version of this scene that has more and is bad or anything.

But, in my opinion, I think this is brilliant. In its subtlety and in its simplicity, this is one of the sweetest, most graceful, most touching ways I’ve ever seen two people express their affection for one another. That they’ve been through so much, and that they know each other so well that they can just look at each other and only need to say yes to tell the other one all they need to know, to tell each other everything? I’m not going to label two middle schoolers as “in love” because, look, they’re kids and it’s middle school. But what I will say is this: that’s what love is. When someone knows you so intensely and so intimately that you don’t have to say it. When all you have to do is look at someone to know. It’s a connection that goes beyond words. It’s beautiful.

Or, in other words, I’m emotional!

Later, after the party has ended, the GHC, Jonah, and Bex and Bowie hang out in the backyard, reminiscing.

Andi shares a picture of the GHC starting second grade.

From the day they met.

Buffy remarks how they’re still together after all these years. And Cyrus says they always will be. And Andi says...

They’re like, uh oh. Andi says she wants to show them something and leads them to Andi Shack, which has been stripped clean.

They ask why, and Andi tells them she doesn’t need the Shack anymore. She needs a studio because she got into SAVA, which makes her parents very happy, but bums out Cyrus and Buffy. They’re happy for her, but...

This is going to change things.

Bex remarks how a lot of life has happened in Andi Shack. We see some nice clips from over the years, and, if you liked those, you can see more clips by purchasing previous seasons of Andi Mack on your preferred streaming platform. (And coming to Disney+ this Fall!)

Bex tells Andi how proud she is of her and they hug.

Bowie hugs her, too, and tells her she’s going to do great things.

And then, like responsible adults, they decide to go clean up the house. We’ve all really grown so much, haven’t we?

Andi regroups with Cyrus, Buffy, and Jonah. Cyrus says they should be mindful of the moment because after this, we’re all going our separate ways. They all yell at Cyrus for this.

Andi reassures them all that no matter where they go or what they do, they’ll always be a part of each other’s lives.

And then they do this weird sort of group imagine thing where they actually manifest images of the future.

Where they’re all like, doing adult things, but also, still look like children? It’s, um... it’s a little odd.

But I’m going to retain my positivity and head for the finish line.

Andi asks Jonah to take a picture of the GHC standing together as they did on that first day of second grade. Then, Cyrus drops a Winnie the Pooh quote: “You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.”

The four share one last group hug.

Andi asks if they’re all going to meet tomorrow at The Spoon, and they agree.

Each one hugs Andi one last time before exiting.

Andi watches them leave, then heads inside Andi Shack to put up the pictures. She smiles and walks out.

And that, my friends, is a wrap on Andi Mack.

This isn’t goodbye -- I’ve got a little more stuff planned -- but I think this is probably the thing that will be read by the most amount of people familiar with my blog, so let me just say this here: if you’ve read any or all of my recaps, or even if you’re just reading this one, thank you. I have loved writing them and I have loved being a part of this fandom, and I appreciate all of you who took the time to be a part of it with me.

This show and this fandom have been such an amazing experience for me, and it has brought me so much joy this past year and a half. So, once again, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

I will truly never forget it.

#Andi Mack #Buffy Driscoll #Cyrus Goodman #TJ Kippen #Jonah Beck #Bex Mack #Bowie Quinn #Celia Mack #Amber #Marty #Kira #Andi #The Cat #Tyrus #Bexie #Muffy #Jandi #episode recaps

802 notes · View notes