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#his life is just the most random collection of things
tidcl · 1 day
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Hi, I have a smau request for Charles (based on c.ai bot lol, and the fact that I love painting), so the reader is invited by her friends to a house for vacation, her friends are all with their s/o and they also always try to set up reader with someone, that's when her and Charles meet, and reader finally gives it a chance because she knows her friends won't stop to set her up. They talk for a whole evening about what they do in life (reader is an artist/painter) and they get along really well. Eventually they get together and reader is very liked by the public, even if there will always be haters, but most fans thinks she's just very adorable (especially because of her insta/twitter posts)
CL — slip up and i call you baby
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pairing(s): charles leclerc x artist!reader
summary: you love your friends, you really do. you just wish they’d stop trying so hard to set you up with random guys. [smau + written fic]
fc: faceless
word count: 5.1k
warnings: mild sexual references
a/n: this is such a cute idea! thank u so much for sending it in!! u will not believe how much this idea gripped me like i never write one shots like this its just unheard of for me if im honest. anyway i know u asked for a smau so i will be doing a second part/continuation to this that is solely an smau to make up for that. (ALSO sorry for disappearing i was super sick for the whole week and have been getting my shit back together in the aftermath😭)
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(yn’s messages)
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ynusername italy we are in u!!!
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Amalfi Coast, Italy
You’ve never been particularly boy crazy. At least not the same way your friends are.
There have been a few not-quite boyfriend’s over the years, but those relationships never last long. They never really get you, or they never really get the art thing. Which means, of course, that they don’t get you and never will— and that’s fine, you’re content with that. If living for your art means you’ll never be in love then so be it and frankly, good riddance to them.
For the most part, you’ve given up trying. You go on a few dates here and there, but you never let them stick around. Even the ones that seem interested in your paintings you don’t bother with— none of them really seem to be able to grasp what art truly is to you. It isn’t just paint on a canvas, it’s living, it’s breathing. You are only yourself with a way to make art.
It’s difficult to put into words.
So you don’t. Instead, you send texts that say ‘thanks for your time but this isn’t working out’ and you keep the men your friends try to set you up with at arm's length. You placate Chloe and her partner Rowan– who collects friends like they’re Pokémon– with, “he wasn’t my type” and “I’m not looking for a relationship right now”, which you suppose is true, but also isn’t the entirety of it. Yet, every time without fail, there’s a new boy at the scene of the crime.
Chloe doesn’t get it, none of your friends get it. You don’t try to explain it to them. So, y’know, here you are again.
Anyway, here’s the thing: they’re getting closer. Inexplicably, without knowing how you really feel about it all, Chloe and Rowan are getting better and better at picking the boys who are able to tempt you. Which is a pain really, because sometimes you’re trying to have a perfectly nice vacation in Italy without the lure of a boy you can’t let yourself have. But alas, these things generally don’t go your way.
You should know that by now.
Charles Leclerc is bang on the money, he really is. He is unbearably cute, like so cute that you have to leave the room when he walks in, because you don’t trust yourself to be in close proximity to him right now. You have a hard time looking at his face when you are forced to be around him. The dimples when he smiles, the squint of his eyes even when he isn’t. If you look too long you’re liable to stare and that wouldn’t lead to anything good at all.
He’s nice as well. So nice, just like Chloe told you. You try to pretend he doesn’t exist and he still asks you questions about your job and the area of Monaco you live in— like he’s even interested, like he’ll remember you two weeks from now. You try your best to be pleasant, to answer without it being like pulling teeth, and to ask questions of him as well. You’ll probably see him again after this, so best to not to go too far and act like you hate him. It’s difficult though, toeing the line between friendly and encouraging of more. Or it feels difficult for you. Charles doesn’t make even the slightest suggestion of the two of you being set up by your nosy friends. That’s unbearable too. Part of you wishes he’d just make a clumsy pass at you so you can rebuff it and make your intentions abundantly clear. But, obviously, he doesn’t, because he’s perfect or something.
It sucks. You hate him, you think.
Or you want to.
On the second day of the trip, you’re on the villa’s private beach, laying in the hot sun. Chloe, Anaïs and Bea are there; everyone else is either still sleeping off the wine from last night or swimming in the glittering ocean. You’ve got a secondhand book, a 2B pencil and a pair of sunglasses over your eyes. You’re trying to read but you just end up doodling, drawing your friends bikini-clad bodies over the text and shading grapes into the margins. Trying desperately not to accidentally put Charles Leclerc’s dimples, messy hair, or sloped nose to paper.
“So,” Chloe says conspiratorially, as you abort an attempt at drawing a slightly squinted eye with thick lashes, “What do you think of Charles?”
You raise an eyebrow carefully at her over your sunglasses, betraying nothing of your inner turmoil, “I think nothing.”
Anaïs laughs, rolling onto her back, “That’s such shit. You practically sprint away from him everytime he comes near.”
“I do not,” you answer too quickly.
Anaïs laughs again, louder. Chloe joins in and Bea raises her eyebrows at you like you’re a fucking liar. You frown, glaring a little before stubbornly turning your head back to your book. The conversation about Charles ends there, but unfortunately your actions have spoken for themselves. A chill of something like panic chitters up your spine and into your shoulders. You have to roll them to make the feeling go away.
As the sun climbs higher in the sky you lose some people to the heat and gain others. It’s just you and Chloe sweating onto your towels when Rowan and Charles finally give up on whatever game they were playing in the ocean. Rowan collapses unceremoniously into the space between you and Chloe, kicking up sand and getting water droplets all over you like he’s a wet dog. You let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and an exasperated groan as you roll away from him, landing in the sand.
“Watch it,” you cry, “You’re getting my book all wet.”
Rowan laughs, “You’re drawing in it!”
“So.”
He pulls a face at you that makes you roll your eyes; then he turns into Chloe, shoving his face into her collarbone and flinging limbs over her. You snort, leaning over to snag the book off your towel before it gets dragged into the mess that Rowan is causing. You’re about to get up and go inside until you realise Charles is still standing there. Has, in fact, been standing there since Rowan ran over. Your breath catches, heart skipping a beat as you look up to find him standing there.
“Hey,” you smile briefly at him, quickly looking away from his damp hair and bare chest (–which is difficult to do because, holy shit–) so you can gather up your towel.
“Hi,” he replies.
He might smile back. You don’t look. You’re trying to get the image of his washboard abs out of your head. This proves difficult when you clamber to your feet and find yourself face to face with him.
“Are you heading back?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
God, you want to kick yourself. You’re being so awkward, and right in front of Chloe too, who may not be watching but is absolutely listening to you make a fool of yourself in front of a guy you have very firmly said that you are not interested in. It must be clear to him too, that you’re trying very deliberately to not be interested in him. You cant tell what would be worse; if that means he’ll think you’re a weirdo or if it means he’ll take it as a sign that he should make some kind of move.
Ugh.
“I’ll come with you?”
“Hmm,” you blink yourself back into existence, seeing the questioning look on Charles’ face, “Yes, yeah. Sorry.”
You say goodbye to Chloe and Rowan who barely look away from one another, still rolling around in the sand like teenagers.
“Gross,” you say to Charles, as the two of you trudge through hot sand toward the sandstone steps that lead up to the villa.
He laughs, a breathy thing that tapers off with a sigh, “A bit, yes.”
You don’t say anything else, but you find yourself staring at his back and the way his muscles shift and move underneath his tanned skin. At the top of the stairs you part ways, he smiles at you and you offer something awkward in return, trying to pretend you hadn’t been looking at him. You don’t think he notices, but your cheeks red burn anyway.
You don’t see him watching you leave.
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chloegarelli hungover, sunkissed and lovesick
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Amalfi Coast, Italy
Dinner is a huge affair, as it always is on these trips.
You, Anaïs and Chloe spend three hours in the kitchen that afternoon making chicken fricassée and about a hundred different side dishes to go with it. Everyone crowds around the dinner table to eat and drink even more wine than the night before. Piero Piccioni plays on the old record player, crackling away as you laugh and talk and tell stories with your friends well into the night. You watch the sun set through floor-to-ceiling glass windows and you wish wish wish that you had your paints right now.
You brought along a set of oil pastels and one of your art notebooks, but it doesn’t compare at all to painting. If you could get your hands on cadmium yellow in all it’s hues, maybe vermillion and a powder blue, your lack of paintbrush or canvas wouldn’t even matter. You’d use your fingers if you needed to. It bothers you so much that you get up in the middle of clearing away the meal and go to your room for the pastels and notebook. You need to get it on a page at least.
You push a few plates to the side, folding out your notebook and immediately marking the page up with a creamy white pastel. Bea teases you when she comes over to take the rest of the dirty dishes, but you just mumble something unintelligible, too engrossed with smudging the sunset into something that looks like what you’d seen out the window. When the oranges and yellows blend to your satisfaction you take the black and brown and draw in the top of your friends’ heads, not thinking about how much attention to detail you’re paying to the shape of Charles’ side profile.
When you’re finished, you’re surprised to see that the table is cleared save for a few half-full wine glasses and a fresh bottle. Only Chloe, Rowan and Charles are still sitting by you. You’re listening to another Piero Piccioni album now, or maybe just the other side of the record. You remember saying goodnight to the others and saying yes to a glass of wine, so you’ve not been totally dead to the world, but it’s all in a bit of a haze.
You think this might be part of the reason why you can’t hold down a boyfriend. The disappearing into your art like you cant breathe until it’s finished. That may as well be the case if you’re honest.
You sigh, wiping your stained fingers on the next blank page, then you take a long sip from your glass of merlot, pretending you dont notice the others’ eyes on you.
“All done?” Chloe quips, somewhere on the border of teasing and being annoyed at you.
You look at her, your eyes just narrowing enough for her to notice. She does and purses her lips. You raise an eyebrow to ask okay, what’s your fucking problem? And you see her eyes flash to Charles. You follow her gaze to see him and Rowan pretending to look disinterested in your answer. Charles is tracing the base of his wine glass and absently biting the inside of his mouth. You have to tear your eyes away.
“All done,” you answer, tone clipped, before gathering your things (including the wine glass) and leaving the room in a move you hope doesn’t come off as too rude.
At your back you hear Rowan ask Chloe, “What was that?”
Chloe means well, you think as you wind through the villa, making your way to the balcony overlooking the private beach. She wants you to be happy and she thinks you need a boyfriend to be happy. But she’d found the love of her life in Rowan after only a few years of dating around and she doesn’t quite understand that it’s never going to work like that for you. There aren’t enough people out there that understand the kind of passion you have for your art and certainly not many that would also be compatible with you. You’re fine with that, but Chloe doesn’t know what to do with it. Especially not now she’s cottoned onto the fact that you have some kind of interest in Charles. It’s killing her.
It’s irrelevant though, whatever interest you have in Charles doesn’t factor into anything. He’s cute, he’s nice, but so were the dozen boys that you’ve already dated and not continued dating. So really, Chloe needs to stop pushing it because it’s pissing you off. You’re here for a holiday, not to be forced into conversations with a guy you don’t know. If she needs to have an argument to finally understand that, then so be it. You’ve been friends for years, it’ll blow over eventually.
You flick a switch and blinking lights illuminate the balcony. Fairy lights are wound up the posts and draped on the awning, intertwining with the lush green vines that have grown up through the wood slats. The air is balmy and the breeze light as you settle into one of two cushioned chairs situated by a coffee table. It’s perfect. You spread the oil pastels out next to your glass of wine and set your open notebook on your crossed legs, listening to the sound of waves lapping against the shore.
You’re alone for what feels like a long time but is probably only an hour or two.
When the sliding door clunks open you expect it to be Chloe coming over to have it out, but it’s not. Instead, Charles slips through the gap with the rest of the wine gripped in one hand.
“Hi,” he greets, smiling at you in a way that makes dimples carve in his cheeks, and dashing any hopes you have that he’d walk right past you.
“Hey,” you forget yourself for a moment and bite your lip on a broad smile.
He holds the bottle out toward you, offering more. You lean over your notebook and hold your empy wine glass up in acceptance.
“Merci,” you say, and in a moment of weakness (and probable wine drunk-ness) you gesture at the plush chair across from you.
Charles, somewhat caught off guard, looks between your outstretched hand, the chair, and your face, before shaking his head almost imperceptibly and finally taking a seat. Despite his apparent shock, you find it hard to believe he’d come out here simply to offer you some of the last of the wine. Surely, this is Chloe and Rowan’s doing. Though, strangely, you cant quite bring yourself to care.
He sets the bottle on the coffee table, next to your oil pastels. You lean forward to place a few back in their rightful spots, snagging your wine glass as you go.
Charles eyes’ scan your face for a moment, searching for something you suppose, then he points at your notebook, “Have you been drawing?”
You nod, “Mmm.”
You think perhaps the answer is a bit obvious. He seems to realise this, you watch a blush spread onto the top of his cheeks and he flutters his eyelids slightly, almost like rolling his eyes at himself. You don’t think about his eyelashes, thick and dark as they brush against his cheekbone, and you don’t think about his eyes, the lights reflecting off them, making them sparkle.
“What are you drawing then?” he asks after a moment of collecting himself, an edge of embarrassment to his voice.
You give in easily to the strange urge you have to show him, grabbing the notebook off your lap and holding it out for him to see what you’d been scribbling in the book for the past two hours. You let him take it off your hands, ignoring the spike of anxiety. He holds it gingerly, like it's a precious artefact (of course, to you, it is), which makes something warm bloom in your chest. You take a sip of wine and gesture for him to flip through a few pages, which he seems hesitant to do without permission. The book is angled in such a way that you can see most of the page, so you’re content to let him. Or at least you are until he flips to the page you’d started when you’d first come out here.
Panic drops like a stone in your gut because he’s looking right at a fully rendered drawing of his eyes. It’s in amongst some pillars strung with lights and covered in climbing vines; your best attempt at capturing the way the beach looked earlier in the day; and, perhaps your saving grace, Chloe half asleep on her towel. But the drawing of her is haphazard, it’s half-scribbled and half-finished, whereas the one of Charles eyes’ is as detailed as the sunset scene you’d done the page before. It had been something you just needed to get out, drawn in one of those hazes of yours. You’d felt better after it was done, your hands had stopped feeling like they were itchy.
Now, you itch to snatch the notebook off him, but you fear that would be even more incriminating. So you watch him look at the page and try to sit with the panicked feeling spreading in your chest.
Eventually, he points at the page, “Is this me?”
You bite your lip, breathing slowly through your nose to try and abate the blush spreading up your neck. You don’t say anything exactly, just shrug and rock your head back and forth in a kind of confirmation that doesn’t really admit anything. Though, there’s no denying the drawing is him.
“It’s good,” he says, seemingly stumbling over the words, “It’s very good.”
You frown into your drink, “Thank you.”
“I mean it.”
You know he means it. It’s not that.
“Yes,” you put down the wine glass, looking at him but avoiding eye contact, “I know. I know it’s good. I’m just… I’m embarrassed,” you admit.
He furrows his eyebrows– or it’s more that he squints and his eyebrows fold in with it. You watch his tongue dart out to run across the top of his bottom lip and you stamp down the less than innocent thoughts that come bubbling up at that. He waves the hand that’s not still holding carefully onto your notebook about for a moment, trying to conjure up words that he doesn’t have yet.
Slowly, he says, “You shouldn’t be embarrassed. I– It’s–”
He’s about to say flattering, so you cut him off, not wanting to hear the tone of it, whether it be pity or something else entirely.
You try to explain yourself, “Things get stuck in my head sometimes. Like after dinner,” you reach forward and flip the page back one, to the sunset, “I have to get it onto paper. Or… or… it just runs laps in my head for the rest of eternity, I guess. I don’t stop thinking about it.”
You cringe internally. You’ve just told him that you were so consumed by thoughts of his eyes that you had to draw them immediately. That is perhaps worse than just wanting to draw him because you thought he was cute. Charles raises his eyebrows, clearly surprised by your admission, but there’s perhaps also something sincere in there? You can’t pinpoint it, but it makes you feel a fraction better you think.
You sigh forlornly, “That’s weirder, huh?”
He laughs, properly laughs, and it sends some strange feeling skittering down your spine, “No. No, I get it. I don’t have any way to get it down as quickly as I’d like, but I definitely understand the feeling.”
You bite the inside of your lip, hesitant but still curious, “You understand the feeling? Really?”
“Yes,” he smiles easily now, relaxing more in the chair after he places your notebook onto the counter with a cautiousness you still don’t expect, “For me, with racing, it’s like I get an idea and I can’t sleep until I try it on track or talk about it with someone. Some of them don’t work, or aren’t possible, which is fine, but if it sounds right to me and it checks out with the people that it needs to, then, well, then it literally does run laps in my head.”
You laugh, mostly to yourself. You’re not sure yet if he understands what you’re saying, but he’s trying. That’s more than you can say for a lot of people. You try not to let that thought linger for too long.
“You think it’s similar?” you ask in a way you desperately hope comes across as curious and not accusatory.
He hums, waving his hand around again for words, “Perhaps. I think the urgency is the same. The passion is the same. Do you ever feel like something terrible will happen if you can’t–”
“Yes,” you’re a bit breathless in your haste to agree, to talk about this feeling with someone who understands, “Yes. I do. It’s like I need to put it somewhere before I lose it. Otherwise, it won’t be perfect, or it’ll be too late.”
“Exactly,” his eyes seem to light up, for a long second you watch the flickering lights reflect in them, “Exactly.”
“It’s never as good as I want it to be,” you admit, finding it easier to look him in the eye now that some strange barrier between you has been broken, “It’s never quite how I imagine it in my head.”
Charles points at your notebook, “These are very good, really. I don’t see how they could be better. But,” he shrugs, “Eh, I will win a race and still think of everything I did wrong.”
You nod eagerly in understanding as you lean back into the chair, finally relaxing into the cushions. It’s strange to have this conversation, knowing you’re talking about two entirely different careers, but feeling like they’re so similar. Maybe it’s just you and Charles that are similar, maybe your jobs have nothing to do with it? You don’t know, you just know it’s nice to feel like someone gets what you’re talking about.
Charles continues, speaking like he’ll explode if he doesn’t get this off his chest, “It’s there all the time, do you know what I mean? Maybe I’m not thinking about it every second, but it’s always there waiting for something to draw attention to it. And people ask what else is going on in my life, and of course I do other things, and I enjoy other things, but I want to be on the track. I want to be driving whenever I can.”
You nod again, more subdued now, “Mmm, right. I want to be making art all the time, and when I can’t it’s like missing a limb. To me art is– it– it’s like–”
“–breathing,” he finishes, almost the lilt of a question to it, but not really, it’s like he knows exactly what you mean… how you feel.
You exhale, long and slow, “Yeah. Like breathing.”
Both of you are quiet for a little after that. You’re trying not to stare at him, but it’s not easy. He’s looking at you almost blatantly and you can feel blood rushing to your cheeks the longer he stares. The air feels thick with some feeling you can’t place. All you know is there are butterflies in your stomach and a smile keeps pulling at the edge of your pursed lips.
The smile takes over as you catch him starry-eyed in your peripheral vision, you mutter, “Stop that. Stop looking at me.”
“Why?”
You tip your head back so you can’t see him looking at you, “Because.”
“Because?” he laughs breathily, shaking his head at you, “Okay, well, tell me if I’m misreading anything, but I’m pretty sure that drawing of me in your notebook says something, at least.”
You run a hand down your face, sighing loudly, “Yes, okay. I suppose it does. But– I–” for a moment you struggle for the right words to explain yourself, “I guess I’m not really looking to date anyone.”
He tilts his head to the side, furrowing his eyebrows and looking for all intents and purposes, like a confused puppy, “You guess?”
You nod, resisting the urge to just launch over the table and grab his face. He is very cute and he is making this so hard for you.
He sucks his teeth briefly, shrugging, “I’m not really either.”
“Alright,” you say, “Good.”
As over as that should make the issue, strangely enough it doesn’t feel like you’re done with Charles Leclerc and it certainly doesn’t feel like he’s done with you either.
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Amalfi Coast, Italy
You try to avoid Charles after that, you really do, but he doesn’t quite let you.
For a few days of the holiday you give him pointed looks and purse your lips a lot when he’s around. Chloe catches on straight away and that makes it all infinitely worse until she finally realises she might need to leave you alone (yeah, shocker). When Chloe finally forces everyone to get off your back about Charles, it becomes much easier to be around him. You’re not glaring at your friends while they make eyes at you, or worrying if you’re acting weird; you’re just allowed to be.
It’s nice. He’s nice.
But you knew that already.
Neither of you are looking for a relationship so there’s no pressure for it to be anything at all. But you have this sneaking suspicion that perhaps both of you are looking for a relationship with eachother regardless. You try to ignore the thought.
On day five, you’re sitting together on an outcropping of rock that overlooks the ocean and you’re letting Charles doodle in your notebook with a ballpoint pen. The bare skin of both your arms are pressed together, they stick with sweat from the hot midday sun but neither of you seem to care. As you watch him doodle inexpertly you can smell him— salt and sweat and whatever cologne he uses masking the very faint scent of burning rubber. Your hair, still damp, brushes his forearm, you wonder if you smell of acrylic paint and mildew from all the water cups you accidentally leave out for your paintbrushes.
You reach out to trace a line he’d made, “Here, it should be more like…” you taper off, taking the pen from his hand and quickly fixing the curve of the beach before handing the utensil back.
“Hmm,” he hums, giggling a little, “I guess that looks better.”
“You guess?”
He nods, “What if I had a very specific vision?”
You raise an eyebrow in disbelief, leaning back to look him in the eye you tease, “A vision. Did you?”
He tilts his head down to look at you. You’re very close now, you can feel his breath fanning over your face. In the reflection of his sunglasses you watch your lips part slightly and your eyelids flutter. Your chest grows tight with anticipation and maybe a little bit of panic. Still, you reach out and slide his sunglasses up to settle in his hair. You’re a little careless, but you like the way his hair pokes out from them at odd angles. As he breathes out you hear it catch for a split second.
“Did you?” you repeat, knowing he won’t remember what you were talking about.
He blinks twice, still staring at you, “Hmm?”
“You said you had a vision,” you breathe.
“Oh,” as he says it, his eyes flicker down to your mouth, only for a second, but it’s long enough to you know you’re done for.
You both lean in at the same time, your noses sliding off each other in your eagerness. You breathe a kind of laugh into his mouth and you feel him try to suppress a smile against your lips. It’s slow for the first few seconds, just you and Charles figuring out how your mouths fit together. His mouth is warm and wet and so soft, and it’s easy to lose yourself in it. You move the hand that had adjusted his sunglasses, sliding it up his shoulder to the back of his muscled neck. Your fingers weave into the short hair at the base of it, your nails scratching absently there. He groans, ever so slightly into your mouth and it sends heat skittering down your spine, into the low of your gut.
The hand of his that isn’t clutching onto your notebook slips forward and winds around to press at your bare back. He pulls you closer to him as you slide your hand up to cup the back of his head, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Soon it’s a mess of tongue and teeth and Charles blindly shoving your notebook somewhere it wont slip into the water so he can grab you with both hands. He tastes like red wine and coffee and you love the way his fingers dig into your skin and the way his teeth have been grazing at your bottom lip, like he wants to sink into it.
You’re almost in his lap when you’re forced to pull away for air.
Foreheads pressed together, you breathe heavily into the space between you. Your hand is still stuck in his hair and one of his on the small of your back, the other holding your knee. The sides of your noses touch, you nudge yours against his affectionately, tempted by the proximity of his mouth.
He laughs and you feel it against your lips, intermingling with your own breath, “Alright. That was–”
“Yeah,” you finish, dipping forward to kiss him again.
You’re lost for another few minutes. Tongue and teeth and the sound of the waves crashing against the rock behind you. And his hand on your jaw and in your hair and pulling you closer closer to him.
He pulls away this time, turning his head to press your cheeks together, mouth at your ear, “So,” he drags the word out with a laugh, “are you looking for a relationship now?”
You snort unceremoniously, and tease, “Hmm. I guess I would be amenable to that.”
“You guess?” he asks— but not really needing to at all because you can feel his dimples pressing into your cheek as he smiles knowingly.
You nod, smiling too, “I guess.”
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🎨 yes of course i made a playlist>> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6cAJaZjvK0V7SrmxoMosBX?si=ADlJGHxxQYKnlZ1jWFJxfw&pi=a-AI0MKbo3RTqE
taglist: (pls message if you'd like to be added to the taglist for charles. my yuck! one is full so need to start a new one😭)
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waystarresourceco · 7 months
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Alan Ruck on Connor's education (i.e. the business school to art school pipeline). (x)
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kalims · 1 month
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pop !
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giving them a balloon with a confession in it and running away,
premise. out of confession ideas? sick of the pile of stupid papers crumpled up on the leg of your desk? or perhaps you're just in the 'you only live life once' mindset. since the school year is ending, why not get rid of the annoying feeling of him tingling your mind? (in the form of a balloon, you never said you were gonna stick around!)
characters. all sorted by dorm
content. mc runs away after giving it, based on a tiktok I stumbled across approximately a year ago... mentions of marriage (one sign and some were speeding through the future)
note. savanaclaws part hmmm yummy
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heartslabyul
unsurprisingly, riddle gets a lot of bizarre things from students and professors alike. confessions are one thing but having one in this... circular, red, full of helium balloon is certainly a surprise. creative, he'll give them that. if anything he's just confused with it in his arms as you just sort of, shove it in his arms and run away. he recognizes you easily but once cater plucks it out of his grip and shows him the message he just turns red.
trey is the type of guy to accept whatever you give him, honestly. it doesn't matter if you give him the most random of items, he'll take it without a single word of query (unless it's really questionable.) you could hand him a bottle of mustard in class, trey'll just blink and hold onto it patiently. a pair of batteries? thanks he guesses. a red, inflated balloon? he spares you a questioning glance but you're already collecting dust with how fast you ran away so he turns it and resists a smile. clearly spotting the bold letters.
the opposite of clover, cater just doesn't take anything from you unless it piques his interest or is just a casual 'hold onto this for a few' like water or something. things bordering past unusual is what he'd hesitate to take, though less given he trusts you. sometimes he doesn't take it all together simply cause he doesn't feel like it. caters probably updated on everything so when you shove the balloon in his arms and beeline he's pulling out his phone ready to scream his ass off in his dump account. (also gotta magicam this, duh.)
will most likely just dump it on the ground without another thought. or hand it back to you. ace does not care about balloons, he might even pop it in your face. that is, if you stayed for more than a second. he feels more inclined to peer further cause you ran away so fast. you looked embarrassed, and he finds out quickly why you'd proceed to never show up to his face for the following week when he spots it. stares at it dumbly for like, a minute before taking off after you... be scared ig.
added to the top ten best moments of his life note on his phone. deuce silently highlights your name on it with the same angry, red bump on his forehead because he accidentally ran into a pole midst trying to find you around the campus. he had the same idea as ace (twins) which is finding you immediately except once he read the confession he promptly lost all his braincells in the process. so he's very excited, slash embarrassed, slash shy? and can't conjure any logic cause it's just your face.
savanaclaw
jokes on you. you think he's gonna make an effort to catch your stupid balloon? leona just watches it drop to the floor. the effort is only exerted when he's absolutely sure you've run away on your slow legs, he's not bashful—not at all. maybe that's just denial speaking though. he takes one look at the balloon, and pops it with a single dig of his nail. the stare is so brief that you'd doubt if he ever read it at all, when the evidence of your apparent love is now non-existent in the physical world, very much still lingering inside him. leona comes to the predicament that he can't seem to sleep days after.
ruggie is all too familiar with the lack of appreciation some folks hold towards cheaper material gifts. like a luxury jewel, a big, shiny lil' thing ultimately rotting in the closet of some soul cause its the 'price' that counts. he spots the words easily, discerning the black ink. not entirely formed with straight lines, the keen eyes of his spots the wriggles some hold. as though whoever wrote was nervous and he bores an impish grin. (and some back corner of his closet holds no big, pricey jewel, but the deflated balloon is worth all the more to him.)
more likely to leave it on accident. after falling victim to the annoying pranks his other first year 'friends' like to do, with him as the victim apparently. he's more suspicious of it than anything, jack does not want a face full of whipped cream once again. he stares at it like it's an alien and only goes for the initiative to take it into his hands when it rolls and showcases the very bold text, highlighted and straight to the point. jack inevitably ends up accidentally popping it due to the fear that some other person probably saw it, he did not mean to wreck it. atleast not with a messy chain of thoughts, but hey. atleast he got the message...
octavinelle
well versed in catching you in a gentle manner, if you ever slipped (he definitely did not practice.) so azul's reflexes respond quick enough to capture the red little thing with ease. he recognizes it as one of your antics, and he rarely doesn't humor them since it was harmless ones that don't really get under his skin, unlike that of the tweels... the curiosity of looking forward to whatever you had far outweighed any annoyance, and great sevens he might actually combust. ("JADE PREPARE THE LOUNGE—") <- absolutely ready to initiate the plans he had detailed through a script ages ago if this were to ever happen, with a red face. ha, ha.
either clueless, or already got an idea based entirely on the adorably stiff look on your face. jade easily puts two and two together, it's quite funny because he picks it up and doesn't spare a single look. stalking off to find you immediately, and only then does he take a peek as to whatever made the balloon special, right in front of you cause apparently he's gotta witness your raw embarrassment in the flesh?
floyd is likely not interested in the ball in the first place, he thinks you want to play catch so he runs after you with a laugh that... makes you a lot more concerned. he flings it uselessly to the face of some poor soul before he sprint after you, probably traumatizing them when they spot the 'I like you' on it, and when they realize they got it from the resident terrorist whose definition of 'I like you' is 'you're entertaining, I'm gonna keep on playing with you'. (only blinks when you tell him about it, seeing as he isn't close to releasing you anytime soon from his arms.) caught you!
scarabia
sparkles, around the sun... too bright... kalim's blinding everyone else with his obvious joy. almost immediately turns it and it's clear he saw something he really liked cause he has one of those grins, really wide, showing off his teeth and his face scrunches up to the point where you could barely spot the red irises of his eyes. his lips are wobbly too! and he thought the notion was simply too cute... (so much he just had to send it back, so you could feel what he felt too!) except it comes in a hundred times balloons inside your home.
really confused. is this supposed to be a new form of comfort in the era that he hasn't caught up with yet? jamil does nothing much to stop you from running away, yeah. that's your choice but it did strike an inkling of suspicion in him. with the way you aggressively shoved the balloon in his arms before you ran away makes him think it's contents are supposed to be for him only. seeing as you collected dust with that sprint, so he brings it home. and damn, thank god he did because seven forbid if anyone else actually saw the flicker of bashfullness in his expression, hopefully not his warming ears either.
pomefiore
you try to fool him by not rushing up to him, shoving it and then speeding away for once. but instead calmly placing it in his arms and then walking away like it might be the last time yall have a friendship haha (👀) vil sees right through you either way. dare I say he thinks the whole execution is strange, he means, you could literally just walk up to him and say the exact same thing written on the balloon and he would've loved it either way but eh, atleast you got it out!
don't walk into his room cause you will probably the very prominent place the balloon has in his room. rook surprisingly did not put it on a pedestal which is tame for his nature, but it does have a place in the corner of stuff he absolutely adores. you'd think you'd spared yourself from the embarrassment of seeing his reaction cause c'mon, that was a confession. it's nerve-wracking! but NO cause you spy him outside the window of your class and suffer a heart attack (3rd floor btw)
wherever he read that, epel's jaw drops. people would mistake him as someone who escaped from a mental asylum from the way he's gaping at a balloon like he just got told vil schoenheit got canceled on magicam for some controversy (he in fact, did not.) spends so much time staring at it, and the following where he's managed to snap out of it is spent also staring off into the distance *wedding bells ringing*
ignihyde
uuuuhhhhh... either send it to him digitally or shove it inside his room and dip?? if we're going with the latter, idia doesn't even notice until like, a day after cause he's been playing for. and it isn't even him who notices!! it's ortho!!! even if he did find it he would've ignored it, but behold, ortho, who reads the text in a hilariously flat tone. idia thought his brother was professing his love until the boy reveals it was from you. (nearly falls off the chair, then actually falls when he realizes it's been a day. imagine getting ghosted irl haha)
ortho could be the delivery boy if you're too embarrassed lmao. will help you in constructing a more poetic way with words but honestly the "YOU'RE CUTE LETS DATE" gets it done. boy probably doesn't understand why you don't wanna do it yourself, and records the entire thing, reaction of the person? forwarded to you until he leaves. but now you're suffering through wanting to watch, and not because you're too pussy to actually do it.
diasomnia
what... malleus is the equivalent of '???' like he's seen a few of these unique, forms but he never got the purpose of them. so he assumes it's like, some nice gift of human traditions question mark. so he appreciates it either way, he looks content honestly which is funny cause the terrifying wizard looks kinda silly holding that balloon like it's a child. actually you should've just gave him a blank balloon cause once he spots the confession, oh honey. are you fine with early marriage?
if you can't find lilia might as well yeet the balloon in the ceiling. chances are, he's there and he's gonna catch it. there's already a cheeky smile quirking up the ends of his lips, usually he'd have some sort of retaliation on the personal attack you inflicted on his heart but oh dear, it's strangely blank. he's humming, the round thing upside down as he rubs his chin in contemplation. everyone's just scared at the echoing giggles of the already dark hallway.
an attack? AN ATTACK! unlike lilia who knows how to use the figurative words youth joke about all the time, sebek is... hilariously serious about most things, if not so much that it strikes just a teeny tiny concern in your mind. honestly you didn't take much into account, not the fact that he might consider it as an assault or something because you're already speeding away. apparently not having gotten too far cause he catches up easily and holds you up by the back of your collar like a cat. (you'd most likely have to mention the words cause all he registered was the apparent attack, when he does check he goes redder in the face and accidentally drops you. nows your chance to run!!)
*angelic voice singing* silver, my boo boo, I mean what...? felt something soft being squeezed into his arms, he knew it was you but assumed it was a pillow so he just?? used it as a pillow?? under his head now?? most folks would be confused at the sight of the sleepy guy laying on a balloon cause, one, it might pop and startle everyone in vicinity, two, there's words scribbled on it. although cut off since his head is blocking the way, but the 'LIKE YOU' is really obvious. so he wakes up, glances at it and goes back to sleep, except he couldn't cause the balloon actually popped comically the same time he absorbed it in.
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soapyblubbles · 2 months
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*.•° 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 °•.*
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pairings: poly!marauders x nymph!reader
summary: james introduces you to his two friends
warnings: implied “sharing.” do with that what you will.
a/n: who was gonna tell me that i actually have to check my inbox to know if i have asks 🙊 anyways this is set before pieces of me !! this is dedicated to the anon who asked me about nymph!reader back in august 😭
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You tug roughly on James’ arm, mindlessly cooing as you pull him deeper into the cave.
He doesn’t understand anything that you’re saying, but still he nods along enthusiastically, intently focused on each syllable that leaves your mouth. You had been surprised when he showed up earlier than usual, especially when you realized he had brought others along with him.
The two trail behind uncertainly, their rising alarm resting sour on your tongue.
The long-haired one made you especially wary.
He doesn’t show any outward signs of being nervous but you sense emotions better than most. His wild energy puts you on edge. His aura is bitter, like the unripe fruit that dangles from the trees that tower over you when you journey into the forest. There’s also a hint of sweetness reminiscent of the nectar that the bees sometimes bring you.
If the long-haired one is the fruit then the tall one is the branches, balancing out his companions' wild nature with his never ending patience. That’s not to say he doesn’t have any chaos of his own. You can feel it writhing underneath his skin, especially when he shifts around every now and again, rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort. Though you think that it might be because of how he’s forced to hunch over every now and again, the tips of his hair brushing against the jagged ceiling whenever the floor of the cave gets too uneven.
The taste of honey dew makes your mouth water, along with a richness similar to the dark colored treats James brings you every once in a while.
“Are we almost there?” James’ hushes them and a frown forms on both their faces. You peer at them with interest.
“James.” The tall one scolds, his throat raspy with sleep. “Don’t ignore us.”
He rolls his eyes, “Yes, yes, we’re almost there. Merlin, all you have to do is wait a few more bloody minutes.”
“Well excuse me if I decide to ask a couple questions when you drag me in the middle of the forbidden forest at this hour.” The tall one hisses back, looking far more lively than he had moments before.
You tug on James’ sleeve, straightening up as his attention instantly falls back to you. “Yes, love?”
You gesture to the cave, turning back to stick your tongue out at the two behind you. Although they're infinitely confused, there’s no doubting the fact that you’ve piqued their interest.
“Bloody brat.” The two mutter in unison.
James ignores them, trying his best to listen to your incomprehensible, but excited mutterings.
“Found the poor thing bathing in a creek when I was roaming around as Prongs.” James sighs, clutching his wand tightly as he walks the familiar path.
They stop just as you reach the entrance to what looks like a house, gazing around in awe as the glass bottles and mason jars start to come to life, fireflies moving around in them restlessly. The unnatural glow coming from the small pond by the back alcove couldn’t be from anything but magic. You lead them further into the room, pointing to the small collection of rocks and other random items, sorted in a chaotic manner.
“Wow.” The shorter one whispers breathlessly.
You push James on your makeshift bed, made up of moss and hay. You sidle up to his side with a contented hum. “Brought her some stuff when I could. But for now I figured I’d share her with m’best mates.”
They both pause at that.
“What?”
“Trust me, the poor thing can barely even understand us.” He assures his tall friend.
Seeing how unconvinced they still were, he sighs and turns to you. You perk up at his attention, letting the small stones you were messing with fall to the floor as you give him a bright smile.
“You’re just a dumb little nymph aren’t you?” He coos down at you. You nod along eagerly, eyes shining with adoration as he mocks you.
“Such a dumb girl, who’s my dumb girl, huh?” His voice was not unlike the voice one would use when speaking to a puppy and you just smiled along, practically bouncing in place at his upbeat tone. You latch onto his arm, fiddling with the fabric on his jacket.
James sighs at your actions, pulling you closer into him, your teeth making a soft ‘click’ every time you bite down on the material.
Sirius gives Remus a heavy look, the long haired boy looking doubtful when Remus walks over, hunching over you. His slender finger trails up and down your calf. “Such a pretty girl.”
You must’ve understood what he said because no sooner did those words leave his mouth, did your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him forward harshly.
With a speed that surprised even him, his arms shot out to either side of your head, letting out a loud groan as a few small rocks dug into his palms, just barely managing to stop himself from crushing you.
You let out a series of loud clicking and chirping noises, unaware of how improper your actions were. He lets out a huff, rising to his knees as you continue to babble nonsensically. “You don’t do that. You understand? Tha’s not nice and someone could’a gotten hurt.” His tone is firm and you squirm in place, peering up at him with wide eyes.
James had never spoken that way to you before.
Bashfully, you turn away from him, hiding your face in the crook of James’ neck. “Hey mate, don’t be rude to my best girl. Just cause I’m sharing ‘er doesn’t mean you need to be a prick to the poor thing.” He grumbles, petting your head softly.
Remus just sighs, shaking his head at you two before calling out, “Are y’just gonna stand there all evenin’?”
Sirius, who was still wandering around the cave, shook his head, as if coming out of a daze. “Sorry mate, s’just cool in here.” He moves to sit down, but freezes when your head snaps to him. You bare your teeth, hissing with furrowed brows as you eye the way he’s just a little too close to James.
James lets out a booming laugh as Sirius’ features morph into a scowl.
Remus slaps James’ arm. “Be nice.”
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melonnmiru · 8 months
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being a professional volleyball player had gotten kiyoomi an onslaught of— albeit, somewhat unhinged, fans.
he'd never say he hated his fans. in fact, he appreciated their constant support for his growth as both a person and a way too attractive volleyball player. however, the way some of them would show their support was rather... unique for his standards.
the two of you were sprawled out on the couch, you mindlessly scrolling through tiktok, and him ultimately deciding to do the same. this was one of the few times he ever even went on the damn app and the first thing he's greeted with is an edit of him from his most recent game. he somehow felt inclined to open the comments but a part of him knew his scowl would only deepen if he did.
you leaned over and tried to smooth out the crease in between his brows with a hum. "you gotta give them credit, 'omi. you look really hot there."
"it's a 15 second video of me drinking water."
"still hot."
he rolled his eyes, switching his phone off and leaning on your shoulder. you went back to running through his hair with one hand, and scrolling on tiktok with the other.
while kiyoomi was mainly focused on how nice it felt to have your fingers gently carding through his hair, he was also listening along to the random audios that played each time you scrolled onto another video. eventually, a song oddly familiar to kiyoomi started up on your phone.
wait.
kiyoomi paused, turning to look up at you in a comically slow manner with a grimace painted on his face. you bit back a laugh at his sour expression, batting your eyelashes back at him. "what's wrong, my sweetheart, honeybunch, sugarplum, light of my life?"
"ignoring those disgusting pet names— is that the same edit i just saw?"
the familiar song played faintly as you offered him an innocent grin. you glanced at your phone then back at him, quickly swiping up. "edit? don't know what you're talking about."
alas, the algorithm knew you a bit too well. maybe it was coming after you with the fact yet another kiyoomi edit popped up after you swiped. the two of you stared at the screen silently, your thumb sliding over to press another button.
"...what a coincidence, huh 'om-"
"did you just favorite it?"
you didn't respond. he shifted closer to grab your phone, you leaned away. this ultimately led to you and kiyoomi wrestling for your phone. as you two were tugging at your phone, it slid to unsurprisingly, another kiyoomi edit.
"i'm gatekeeping these, get off!"
"they're literally edits of me!"
eventually, he decided to dig his fingers in your sides, causing you to break into what sounded like a mixture of a scream and manic laughter. he smiled triumphantly, using his free hand to grab your phone from your— now weak grasp and going straight to your favorites.
he scrolled through the random collection of cooking tutorials he knows you won't do, cat videos you've shown him multiple times, and of course, edits of him. from clips of him from interviews to his monstrous spikes, you had it all.
"this is— an invasion of privacy!" you whined, trying to get your phone back to no avail. kiyoomi looked through all your saved edits with an amused look. "think you might be even more obsessed than these fans." he teased, his shoulders shaking as a chuckle escaped his lips.
"god, can't someone enjoy videos of their jaw-droppingly handsome, gorgeous, hot, attractive boyfriend in peace?"
"not when you're right next to said handsome boyfriend, watching those videos on the highest possible volume."
you waved off his quip, "details, details." you propped your head on his shoulder and watched in silent amusement as he regrettably decided to open the comments on one of the edits. he's not even sure how some of these comments slipped past community guidelines, while some were rather tame, gushing about how good he looked, some were so depraved he thought he was going to get permanent frown lines just by looking at them.
"if you though that was bad, you should see what i say on twitter."
for the sake of his sanity, kiyoomi decides against checking your twitter account.
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my 31 pending school reqs will not stop me from kiyoomi posting!!
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lovifie · 2 months
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Spidey 🕸️
Ghost x Spiderwoman!Reader
@cheomain 's idea 💗
I haven't seen the new movie, so I went with the classics, hope you like it.
You were the new member of the 141, Laswell's own recommendation. But even Price, who would trust Laswell with his life, had second thoughts about you joining. 
You were a scrawny, half-blind, way too young girl. The last person Price would have picked for the team. 
“Let them show you, John. You need her to hack and collect the intel. She can't take a grown man down, but she's a decent shot.”
So he let you join, most of the time you felt like a child; constantly being told to walk close between two of them or it would be the complete opposite and they would tell you to stay hidden taking advantage of your tiny size. 
Ghost was the one that liked you the least, he already worried about the whole team making it back home safe and they were able to fend for themselves. You? You were like a puppy, walking between their feet almost making them fall all the time, and still, you looked fucking delighted to be in the way. Ghost hated how happy you seemed to be all the time, hated how unaware of the danger you seemed to be, and he hated that he was unable to ignore how much he cared you got back safe.
But there was a thing he hated more than anything. 
Superheroes.
The 141 was one of the few task forces that still existed, in many places arguing that they were no longer needed since now there were superheroes. And the hatred the population already had for the military only got worse. 
Plus, even though Simon never joined the military to get famous, it still rubbed him the wrong way when they would go on a mission, fight for days, lose friends, and only for a random superhero to arrive when everything was almost finished and take all the glory. 
He hated them all their life, and he always wondered why people liked them so much when he was home any of them came to save him, his mom or his brother. He always hoped one would save him, but they never did. 
So both Simon and Ghost hated superheroes.
All of them. 
So when they got the intel that a lab was working on creating new superheroes, he didn't need any more convincing and started getting ready.
The five of you walked along the rows and rows of animals captive inside the lab. Luminescent fish, shielded beetles, poisonous snakes, all the kinds. Ready to be experimented with, just for selfish humans wanting to be heroes. 
“Keep walking, kid” Price mumbled behind you, making you peel your eyes away from the different fish bowls and terrariums. “Alright. Kid, you stay in this room and look around if you can find any document or proof. The four of us will go down the hall, there are some lights on, see if we can find anyone.”
You nod, already used to being left alone, and walk around the office, pushing your glasses up when they slide down your nose as you look down at the desks. Lab records of failed attempts, codified names of patients, data of the genome of the different animals they used, by the look of all of them they have been trying for years. Poor animals.
It is at that point, while you are reading the information of the different animals, that you feel a sharp pain in your lower back, right over your ass check. 
“Fuck!” You mumble, the sound reaching the team's ears through the intercom and making them still in their moves. 
You turn around, expecting to see somebody stabbing you. But you are still alone and when you look at the point the pain came from, you only see a tiny spider. 
“Fucking perfect.” You groan to yourself as you slap the spider off your body, but once again it reaches the rest of the team.
“Kid, what the fuck are you doing?” Price asks, the team still immobile waiting for your explanation. 
“Nothing, sir. Keep going.” You say, not wanting to jeopardise the mission. Part of you gets offended by how they automatically keep going without another care, but the actual logical part of you starts to panic because you just got bitten by a spider from a lab that tries and makes superhumans. 
You frantically try to find some kind of information about said spider in the files on top of the desk, almost crying when you find it and read: “Not poisonous.” 
Shots and screams can be heard from the end of the hall and you know you don't have time to read the whole file. So you snatched it, shoving it under your vest, just in time for the first people to come running out. 
“Kid! Don't engage in combat! I repeat, don't engage!” Price's voice barks in your ear.
“Roger that!” You quickly answer, hiding under the desk and holding your breath as people run around you. One of them stopped right beside you and frantically shoved around the papers just like you were doing a moment ago. 
“Shit! Shit! Shit! It's gone! The spider is gone! The file too! FUCK!” The person next to you screams, only adding to your ongoing anxiety about being bitten. 
“Leave it!” A second voice shouts getting closer. “Leave everything and run! They are activating the system! This shit is about to get blown to bits! Run!” 
The second they are far enough to grab the radio to talk to the team. “Captain! They are blowing up the lab! We need to get out!” 
“Take as much info as you can and run, kid! The door is locked, we are going out the other way, we can see the exit! Meet us at pick up!” The Captain quickly shouted back.
“What?!” You ask back. “You were leaving me here?!” 
You can make out what he says, but you stand up to look around. You need to take something with you, even if it is only to hit them with it. 
There is a laptop on top of the desk, so you grab it along with as many files as you can bring. Sprinting to the door, the workers of the lab already out of the place, way more lucky than you. The halls inside are an absolute maze, and the only thing you have to guide you out are the blood marks of those who got out before you. 
Just when you see the outside, the helo in the distance hovering just half a meter off the floor, you hear the beep beep beeeep of a countdown going off. Only managing to put a foot outside of the door, before the blast wave sends you flying forward, your glasses flying away from you. Clutching the laptop as if it were your own life, especially taking into consideration that your “team” would be more worried about it. 
Your ears ring when you open your eyes again, a buzzing sound in the background coming from the helicopter. Gaz on the open door calling your name, enough to get back on your feet and keep running; the man picks you up from your vest and takes you inside before closing the door. 
You leave the laptop on the floor, files scattering around as well as you sit on the floor, back resting against the wall, hugging your legs as you try to get your breath back. 
Gaz is looking at you worried, Soap is beside you tidying up the files, Ghost flying the helicopter and Price is behind Gaz, staring at you. 
You can't help it back look back at him with anger in your eyes, he was ready to leave you behind if you didn't get out on your own and he didn't even tell you. Suddenly feeling like your biggest ally today was the terrorist who told his colleague. 
The ringing in your eyes slowly fades away, the sound of the helicopter sounding more and more clear. 
“You solid, kid?” Price's voice sounds over the rotating blades. 
“Yeah… not thanks to you, though.” You say, mumbling the last part, pissed about it. Price chooses to ignore it, for the sake of the peace. Only giving you a look of “We'll talk later.”
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By the time you reach the base, you are burning up. Every time you close your eyes being harder to open them back up, your whole body feels on fire and you're feeling pain in places you didn't even know you could. 
You should go to the infirmary, but then they would see the spider bite and it would make sense that they would want to leave you behind, or at least that's the reasoning behind your decision to instead go to your room and sleep it off. 
Or at least you would if the pain wasn't keeping you awake, you turn around in bed trying to find a comfy position failing and failing again and again. Still, at some point, it must have knocked you out because the knocking on the door wakes you up. 
The sun is out and the fever seems to be gone, so you stand up, groaning because of the residual pain and walk up to the door, opening it. Coming face to face with Ghost. 
“Morning, soldier” He greets, no kind of emotion in his voice and you can't see his face. “You skipped dinner last night and breakfast this morning, we don't need you any skinnier.”
Just then you take notice of the paper bag on his hand and the water bottle on the other. You try to use the hand that is still holding the doorknob, only to realize that it seems to be stuck to it. You furrow your eyebrow, which doesn't go unnoticed by Ghost; and you point to the table with your other hand. 
“Can you leave it there, please?” You ask, still trying to get your other hand free as you open the door more so he can come in. 
He enters the room, dropping the food on the table and turning to you with crossed arms. “Are you alright?” He asks, still confused with the way you seem to not be able to let go of the door, pulling back with all your body weight.
“Peachy.” You grunt back, your hand finally detaching from the knob and almost sending you to the floor as the door bust open hitting the wall. “A weird cramp, that's all.”
He nods slowly, walking away from the table and closer to the door. “You sure you are fine? You flew quite some meters yesterday… you lost your glasses.” He points to your face
Until he mentions it you haven’t realise because you can see perfectly fine; even better than before when you were wearing them. You furrow your brow, rubbing your eyes as if to get the bad eyesight back by pure force and you look at him, still seeing better than ever. 
“Yeah… they flew yesterday, I'll get new ones.” You say, still confused by it. He nods, telling you about letting Price know so he can give you the money back and starts to walk out of the door, turning back and rubbing his face already dreading what he is about to do. “Oh, and, hey… good job, yesterday.” 
As he talks, he raises his fist for you to bump it. Which only adds to the confusion, he really must feel bad for leaving you behind yesterday. Still, the situation is so awkward it is causing you physical pain, so you bump his fist to get over with it and close the door with your feet when he leaves. 
Once alone in your room, you rub your face with frustration only for your fingertips to get stuck on your forehead. You stay paralyzed for a second, not understanding what is going on and trying to peel your hands away from your face. 
Your skin stings when you try to pull making you whence, understanding that you can't just pull. So you close your eyes, take a deep breath and quickly pull your hands as if you could catch it by surprise. You curse when it obviously doesn't work walking back, knocking the water bottle off the table, surprising yourself when your hands catch the bottle before it even rolls off the table.
Something tells you to look at your phone, and just when you do a message pops up. You focus all your senses on letting go of the bottle and it falls off your hands like normal, making you doubt if you really got stuck before. You look at your phone, using your knuckle to unlock it and tapping in the password to read Ghost's message.
💀: Debriefing in 20’
💀: Shower!
“Rude.” You think, knowing damn well that you stink for coming straight from the mission and spending the night sweating. You type back with your knuckle:
🕷️: rofer thar
“Shit… close enough” You lock the phone and take off your clothes to shower. Once on your underwear, you turn to look into the mirror the spider bite on your hip; only to see that your body is not the same as yesterday's. 
It looks like you gained at least 10 kilos of pure muscle, your biceps popping out, shoulders rounded out by muscle, thicker thighs that you know will not fit on your pants anymore, rounder ass and overall the athletic build of some kind of olympic athlete. 
The only mark on your skin being the bite, even some of your freckles are gone from your skin. The bite, on the other hand, looks terrible. Two little dark purple dots are visible, the surrounding red and angry and little lighting-like red lines go out of it, going up your back and around your hip. 
You take a deep breath and jump into the shower, using the back of your hands to do so, which only makes it trickier. Once washed, you look into your closet taking out the only clothes you believe will fit you. A pair of leggings that sit just a bit too tight and an oversized sweatshirt to cover as much as possible. 
You put on your shoes and walk to the captain's office; to your disgrace, the door is closed and you knock. You hear, as if it was right behind you, a “C’mon in”. But you don't want to risk it getting stuck, so you play dumb and knock again. Ghost opens the door and comes face to face with you again, much closer than in your room and you see his eyebrow furrow 
“Have you gone on a growth sprout in the last 20 minutes?” He asks, confusion clear in his tone. “And are you wearing makeup?”
You realize that the freckles on your face must have banished too, plus the fact that the bags under your eyes seemed to be gone as well last time you checked. 
“No. Must be the shoes.” You answer, walking under his arm inside the room feeling his eyes travel down your body. You sit down next to Gaz, looking at Price as Ghost closes the door and sits down, still looking at you. 
“First thing first.” The captain says clearing his throat. “Great job yesterday, you can work on the laptop whenever you want, kid. And also, good job for the heads-up about the bomb.” 
“You didn't know?” You ask, confused by his words.
He shakes his head. “We were wondering why everyone was running out, we tried to go back to you and the gates were blocked, we were suspicious of it but you confirmed it.”
You nod your head slowly, taking it in.“All set, then, right?” He asks looking at the four others. “If you are still mad you can say it, I don't want my team keeping their thoughts in only for them to explode in the middle of the mission. Is there anything you want to say, kid?”
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TagList: @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @glocuseguardian3rd @darkangel4121 @risingofjupiter @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @lunari0 @dukeofjjune @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind @cmbghost @dilara-del @multifandomheathenannie @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles
566 notes · View notes
jeannineee · 3 months
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nsfw alphabet: suguru geto
warnings: uhh there's a lot lol. it's smut. minors don't interact.
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
the actual opposite of how he was only moments before. very attentive and doting. will massage your sore muscles, kiss any marks he left. usually runs you a bath unless you're too tired.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
on himself, probably his hands. finds it cute when you mindlessly fidget with them. also likes how they look wrapped around your neck.
for you he loves your ass. i feel like this is something we have all agreed on collectively lmao. geto is an ass man.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
prefers to cum inside you. he's a simple man.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
honestly, geto is very open about what he's into, and what he would like to get out of your sex life. i don't see him hiding anything from you.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
he's canonically the man w the most experience. above gojo, anyway. he knows exactly what he's doing. you won't have to guide him very much, if at all.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
remember how i said he is an ass man?
any position that gives him a good view of your ass is preferred. reverse cowgirl, prone bone, doggy.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
it really just depends. lazy morning sex? he's cracking jokes.
rough sex post-argument? he's v serious. it simply depends.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
he just keeps a small patch of hair at the base. yes, it matches the hair on his head.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
he can be very intimate. like, the type of intimacy that is almost overwhelming, if that makes sense? something w his presence idk if y'all are gonna follow me on this one but yeah.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
he does it whenever the need arises. but usually, you're around.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
first off, he has a daddy kink don't fight me on this. also into orgasm control, bondage--esp. shibari. bdsm in general tbh. likes mixing praise and degradation.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
he actually prefers the bedroom, so he can take his time with you. but if the two of you really need on another, he's down for anywhere.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
you, just you. it doesn't take much for him.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
he doesn't have very many limits lol do with that what you will.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
prefers giving!! but he's very teasing abt it. he very much enjoys edging you.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
usually on the rougher side.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
he doesn't prefer them. he would rather take his time with you.
see L= location.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
very happy to experiment. he regularly comes to you with new things to try, and encourages you to do the same.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
he can last for hours on end. good luck.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
he owns a plethora of toys, majority for you. lots of rope, vibrators, plugs, etc.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
he is very, very unfair when it comes to teasing. he loves hearing you beg, so don't expect him to give in very quickly.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
somewhere in the middle. talks a lot when he's teasing you. also talks you through it. hismoaning isn't super loud until he's close to finishing.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
wants to try subbing for you at least once, but isn't sure if he'd really enjoy it or not.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
he's hung. don't play with me. about 8 inches and very girthy.
(god i am gross LMFAOOOO)
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
moderate. enough time for you to be able to recover in between. you're gonna need it.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
it usually takes him awhile. (overthinkers club!!!) you're always the first one to fall asleep.
585 notes · View notes
landograndprix · 10 months
Text
woman ✾ l.n - i
❧ you love max, you really do but your little brother has been getting more on your nerves each day as he tries to set you up with one of his friends.
❧ new series! Verstappen!reader is older than max so if your uncomfortable with that, please don't read. 😉 to make things easier for you and myself, Iris/irisxo & sanne/sannetje are your best friends, lots of use of random oc's as your tagged friends. I'm not really sure who wanted to be on my everything taglist so sorry if you're not on here :(
next part
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y/nverstappen
📍 Hard Rock Stadium, Miami Gardens
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liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 132,761 others
y/nverstappen a bit of behind the scenes from this weekend, completely shocked by the results. Very proud of this little guy🥇
tagged: maxverstappen1, redbullracing
view all 625 comments
kian18 absolute beast!
maxmaxmax y/n delivering the goods once again 🥰
sharl16 man, p1 was a real surprise!
y/nverstappen nah, absolutely blew my mind when he crossed the finish line first 🤯
martinleblanc there's nothing funny about a 22+sec time gap between p1 and p2..
y/nverstappen I know, I've told him that before but little brothers usually don't listen to their big sisters..
kellypiguet we're all proud of him ❤️
ginaaa09 all you do is post about max & redbull 😭
norry4 girl it's her lil' bro and she's proud of him and the team, let her 💀
irisxo this guys pretty good, he should consider racing
leon12 verstappens 🤮
y/nverstappie boy you either follow y/n or you're actively looking for max content..tell me you're obsessed without telling me you're obsessed
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y/nverstappen
📍 Ibiza, Balearic Islands, Spain
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liked by martingarrix, landonorris and 187,982 others
y/nverstappen 'biz baby 🏝
tagged: martingarrix, irisxo, julianpeters, sannetje, liesslot
view all 561 comments
hannahh 🔥 🔥
verstappenmax oh to live a life like this..😩
norrislan Martin not only out here collecting f1 drivers but their sisters too 💀
max33 i don't think most of you know how well known y/ n is in the netherlands and belgium, Martin isn't the only 'famous' person she's just hanging out with..
julieeeexo if anything, y/n might be a bigger person than max lmao
max33 I know right?! I see her more on my TV screen and socials than max 💀
irisxo same time next week?
sannetje I'm too old for that love
y/nverstappen honestly same
patricko 😍
lolaaaxn 🥵
verstapricc beauty 😍
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y/nverstappen
📍 Amsterdam, the Netherlands
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liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 198,728 others
y/nverstappen home is where the heart is or something like that.
tagged: irisxo, victoriaverstappen
view all 478 comments
blake78 you single?
teampapaya two very desperate f1 drivers in the likes 💀
victoriaverstappen can't wait to spend another weekend in Amsterdam with you ❤️
y/nverstappen take my nephews with you next time!
maxmaxmax absolute beauty 😍
norry4 are you going to be in Italy next week?
y/nverstappen no but I will be in Monaco!
charles_leclerc that food looks amazing
lestappen this boy cracks me up, you need to up your flirting game, this is shit 😭
charlos16 probably better than your pasta pesto..
chilisains Charles sees a pretty woman: "so like you make food often?"
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taglist: @hockeyboysarehot
2K notes · View notes
fryingpan1234567 · 11 months
Text
some CHB headcanons
every cabin has LEDs around the inside, but there’s a constant battle over what color they are
Percy has his rippling back and forth from teal to blue and it looks like light dancing through water all over his walls and floor
the Apollo cabin can usually settle for orange and yellow as a common ground
the Aphrodite kids have a different color for each time of day and sleep with pink on the lowest brightness setting
the Hermes cabin has like ten different strips and they’re all constantly shifting
Demeter cabin’s shifts with the seasons
ANYWAYS MOVING AWAY FROM THE LEDS
they have movie nights, which I will talk about in a different post
before everybody goes back to school, the Aphrodite and Hecate cabins have a massive salon at the end of the summer with new haircuts and magic hair dye and outfit recommendations and fake but enchanted sturdy nails and a whole bunch of other stuff and basically it’s a week straight of spilling hot tea between everyone in camp
if someone asks where a camper got their hair done when they get back to school they just go “oh, um… summer camp.” and their friends will snort and be like bro isn’t summer camp the opposite of a makeover?? but they get no argument, just a shrug and a half smile
when I tell you pride month over there is a fucking riot
because Mr. D is in on it, right?? because he’s the god of gender?? and Chiron is aroace and has been raising dumbass gay heroes for literal centuries?? PLUS the sheer fucking amount of queer peeps up in there?? dude yeah
cabins competing for who shows the most pride
Demeter’s roof is covered in rainbow flowers
Hecate’s is enchanted to emit actual light in whatever flag colors of whoever uses the front door, even when they’re straight (it’s just a rainbow)
Percy collects a bunch of shed scales from the hippocampi at the bottom of the lake and then puts them all over his cabin
I could make a whole post about CHB pride but
every single Apollo kid is also a theater kid fight me
Rachel Elizabeth Dare painted a skateboard for Percy’s birthday and he brings it everywhere now, it even sits in his backpack at school
Leo, Annabeth, Percy, and Piper fucking love horror movies. Frank, Hazel, and Jason fucking hate them. They watch through their fingers, if at all
Piper loves the band Surfaces with all her heart, but she also is a die hard Green Day and P!ATD fan
Jake Mason is covered in burn scars up to his neck, just like Deadpool, just not bald lol
Hephaestus and Apollo kids faintly radiate warmth (like more so than a normal person)
the Stolls sometimes stay at camp year-round because their mom is off on international missions that are too high-risk for them to help with
the seven are AVID Smash Bros players
really everyone but
not as many people go to the Athena campers for help with homework as you might think, but whenever anyone does, they’re happy to help
the sun chariot blasts music at a frequency only the Apollo kids can hear, so their life kind of has a shitty soundtrack that consists of a mix of Broadway, Queen, modern stuff, and random bits of Beethoven every now and then
the Romans swear on few occasions
the Greeks know when to swear and when to be polite
the Valhalla peeps swear unbridled and all the time
the Egyptians never swear (in English)
for the longest time, Will Solace thinks the only gift from his dad is his healing prowess— which is obviously great, but he expresses being upset over the fact that he’s not very good at archery
well, considering this is the dumbass who didn’t bring a weapon to actual fucking Tartarus, Nico drags him to the weapon shack thing immediately afterwards and made him pick something out
he's immediately drawn to the Celestial Bronze shotgun.
Nico’s just like “what in the redneck shit did you just pick up” and Will jokingly aims it at his chest and grins and says “you know I’m from Texas, right?”
that’s how they find out Will is one of the damn best marksmen in Greek demigod history
some of the Disney nerds in the Apollo cabin sing What Once Was Mine to the little ones who need bandaids for knee scrapes and give them lollipops afterwards
Percy Jackson absolutely used to make poverty and struggle meal jokes all the time, but he got weird and concerned looks for it at CHB, so he kind of just stopped. But one day, aboard the Argo II, the PERFECT opportunity came up and he just HAD TO and as per usual— everyone else looked at him like he’s crazy— but Leo laughed so hard chocolate milk came out of his nose and that’s the story of how the two of them became Best Friends
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astaroth1357 · 5 months
Text
Oh God, What Have We Done??: Father!Solomon Headcanons
You know what? I'm a Solomon love-hater but I'll go to bat for him too. You could pick worse.
Contents: Unhinged Ms. Frizzle-style parenting, the horrors of human biology, possible pregnancy implications, fluff
~♡♡♡~
So. I can see this happening intentionally. Solomon craves a happy family, so I absolutely see the thought of rasing a kid with MC coming up once or twice.
That said, I think zero planning actually went into making it happen. This is a spur-of-the-moment decision made by two lovesick dolts. Not a damn thought was spared for the consequences, and it shows.
For starters, MC and Solomon both agreed to raise a child together while they were in the human world and told NOBODY ELSE. So from the outside looking in, they just left the Devildom for “training purposes” and returned with a random infant!
No call ahead. No fanfare. They both stepped out of the portal with a flying stroller and bottomless diaper bag, grinning from ear to ear like it all was just souvenirs from Disney World!
Naturally, all hell broke loose. The brothers were collectively hyperventilating, Simeon almost fainted, and Diavolo noticed that Barbatos wasn't moving or blinking, so the Little Ds had to carry him away like a malfunctioning android...
Does Solomon having a kid make him a grandfather…? He is not ready to ponder that thought. No one is.
Despite Mammon and Belphegor’s insistence they had to “Put it back!” after MC made it clear that raising a baby was what they wanted and that Solomon was there to stay, the brothers made peace with it… to varying degrees.
Asmo was the only one thrilled that his favorite humans now have an even cuter mini-human to take around because he'd get to try his hand at baby fashion design! The least happy was probably Belphegor because a baby means that MC is going to be way too busy to nap now. Plus, he had to deal with a lot more Solomon in his life, which very few people ever ask for...
The crew's reaction to the baby's development is actually pretty funny to see. Humans age much, much faster than their supernatural counterparts so, from their perspective, the new baby is growing at lightning speed!
Mammon was with them when they were teaching the baby to crawl and he started freaking out because, “How’re they movin' already!?” The first day their child came running, physically running, into the HoL without any help actually made Levi scream in fright.
The House had a complete meltdown when Beel was watching the child one day and they lost a tooth while eating some hard candy. They all thought that MC and Solomon were going to burn the place down, so imagine their surprise when the overjoyed parents kept congratulating their kid for losing a baby tooth...
And don't get any of them started on the growth spurts...
The one to take to the kid the most as they grew was, funnily enough, Lucifer. Most likely because their various milestones reminded him of when his brothers were doing the same things.
The child is more than happy to tell “Uncle Luci” anything, which he acts like he only tolerates, but in reality he loves being their favorite brother.
Barbatos is EXTREMELY protective of them. Nearly as protective as he is with Diavolo.
Their kid, of course, has no clue. He's just nice Uncle Barbie (he refused to be called Grandpa) who makes them sweets and watches over them in the Castle. But anyone who get too close while they're playing gets a stare down worse than all of Cerberus’ heads combined...
Mammon swore in front of them once and Barbatos strung him up so tightly that even Lucifer thought it was overkill.
Luke seems to enjoy having a baby sibling of sorts to look after, but he is going to be so upset when they get taller than him in the blink of an eye. He’s going to be their guardian angel for sure, btw.
As a father, Solomon is… spirited. Anyone can see that he’s ecstatic to be a parent, it’s just…
Well, years of isolation on top of being a once-in-a-lifetime prodigy may not have made him the most “in touch” with children these days, you know? MC has absolutely come home to find Solomon has propped up their 6-month-old with a stack of books to start teach them how to play chess.
Daddy-Baby adventure always end in spectacular fashion. Solomon is a very “hands-on science teacher” kind of guy with unwavering confidence in his abilities to keep his child safe. This, to be fair, isn’t unwarranted, however...
Does that mean you should make a plans to take your child to forbidden places for some sightseeing? Or let your child touch, paw at, and gnaw on any magic item that suits their fancy in the name of a making a new teaching experience...? Probably not, but it’s also how he learned so…
It must be assumed that whatever kid these two have, biological or not, will be a magic powerhouse of destructive proportions. All that training from Solomon himself since infancy? They'll have a wand in their hand before they can even work a fork!
I like to imagine that Solomon's kid would have a very, very hard time controlling their magic and it would get uncontrollable at times. Like, a sneeze could knock over a bookshelf or getting angry makes things go flying. But Solomon would never ever scold them for it like it’s they're fault.
He'd never make them feel the same isolation and shame that he did at their age.
It would be very, very sweet. But it also means that MC could come home to a flooded house and, instead of cleaning out the water, Solomon would teaching their child how to snorkel in the living room.
Pure chaos, but MC could never find a prouder father. Solomon would devote his entire being to giving their child all of the love and happiness they deserve. Their kid almost never sees him without a grin on his face, just ready to just wrap them a bear hug for no reason.
On quiet nights, he'd cradle them or rock them to sleep while holding back tears. MC has found him over their crib like he’s still trying to convince himself that they're real, that he's gotten this lucky.
He's not a conventional father. Hell, he's not a conventional human either. But he’s grateful for day he gets to be a parent... Every. Single. One.
848 notes · View notes
yuellii · 10 months
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keep my hopes too high
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feat. genshin men
𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 there are several ways they admire you from afar ( drabbles )
note. reader’s gender unspecified, no other warnings
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He fairly enjoys it, the fluttering feeling as if he’s floating when he sees you. Perhaps it’s a little too enjoyable, because it’s been several times now that he catches himself staring for much longer than he intended—or, perhaps he should not have been staring at all. But he can’t help the way you catch his gaze, nor can he control the smile of blissful contentment that etches itself upon his lips. It’s a natural reaction, he swears, for he’d argue that anyone would be captivated by the sheer, unadulterated human emotion you bring out from even the coldest of persons, or by the joys of life you brought to display.
Maybe one day he’ll approach you, and maybe he’ll tell you of all the graces of genuine humanity and serenity he feels when he catches wind of you. Maybe, but today is not that day.
ALBEDO, Tighnari, Cyno, Kaeya, KAVEH, Zhongli, Kazuha
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He’s a master in the art of silent admiration. It could be in a crowded tavern or a silent library, but when he does happen to see you, he appears to not move at all. He’s calm, collected, and most certainly indifferent, like you’re just another passerby he sees as he’s people-watching.
That’s what he thinks, at least. Sure, the usual expression on his face—whether it be a plain smile or a straight up disinterested look—is definitely deceiving, but it was convincing in a manner that even deceived himself. There have been many times he never realized he’d be watching just to analyze what you were doing, analyze your surroundings, and analyze if you were going to be safe. It’s a full rundown of things he notices in his head as his eyes dart around the area. But once he determines everything is clear and you’re safe to continue, he’ll get up, and he will silently leave.
DILUC, Alhaitham, Xiao, ZHONGLI, Scaramouche, Venti, DAINSLEIF, Heizou
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There’s an unwanted pit of fear that settled into his stomach every time he sees you. Because if he ever allowed himself any time with you, what would become of his life now? He’s so used to routine—the lifestyle where he was never driven to this distressing, distant infatuation with you.
Maybe it wasn’t about being busy, maybe it wasn’t about having no time. In actuality, maybe there was almost nothing he feared more than opening up about a life only he himself has known—something about putting trust and openness into someone, meanwhile he has not yet even been open with himself. He thought it would be easy to just drown himself in his work just to avoid you. But mindless work quickly turned into dreaded seconds with the grueling thoughts he could be with you now. But, alas, he was not as strong as he thought.
AYATO, Childe, XIAO, Scaramouche, BAIZHU, Dainsleif
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He can’t. He simply cannot force himself to remain afar. In fact, he deems it impossible—with your charm, and with your benevolence—to avoid running up to you at every moment he can. He makes claims that you’re some sort of siren, drawing him in whilst he is but a mere bystander. But in truth, though he doesn’t even know himself, it’s a lovestruck selfishness that roars inside his stomach whenever he sees you.
He’ll shout hello from the most random of street corners; He’ll suddenly join you across the table at a cafe. Doesn’t matter if it’s annoying—he can’t really tell when he’s running on pure instinct and craving here. But based on his childlike pining and genuine elation on his lips every time he sees you, it’s so blatantly obvious he just can’t help himself.
CHILDE, Thoma, KAVEH, Gorou, Heizou
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920 notes · View notes
quartzalynlove · 6 months
Text
Dating Johnny Cage Would Include
Pairing: Johnny Cage (mk1) x reader
Summary: hcs about dating our favorite movie star
Warnings: none
A/N: I've got so many Johnny ideas running around this head
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Alright let's cut to the chase
This man's love language is gift giving
Jewelry, clothing, shoes he's buying it all for you
You know in Iron Man 3 when Tony bought the giant Christmas bunny for Pepper? Yeah expect something like that from time to time
But he's also very sentimental and will buy you things he knows you love/will make you happy
That book you've been talking about reading all year? He'll surprise you with it on a random Tuesday just to see you smile
And don't be a collector or something
You like mugs? Funko pops? Magic the Gathering?? He's the sole sponsor of your collection
His net worth may be in the millions but nothing he owns is worth more than pure joy on your face
Speaking of your face he's constantly trying to get you on the screen
Whether you think you have talent or not Johnny just wants your perfect being captured on film
"C'mon, doll, I found auditions for a lead in a rom-com. You'd steal hearts on the big screen!"
Lord knows you've already stolen his
The man's a huge kid and nerd at heart so if you're also a movie buff he'll be on cloud nine
He hasn't had many people to talk to about the magic of entertainment since his mom when he was younger
The two of you would lose track of time talking about the good, the bad, and the cheesy of movie history
This also means he will talk and flirt with you almost exclusively in movie quotes
And if at any point you start thinking they're cheesy he'll switch it up with an expression bc he knows they always make you laugh
While he is silly, nerdy, and impulsive Johnny also values quality time with you
He wouldn't trade his job for anything in the world but sometimes it's a lot
Sometimes he just needs a movie night you
Nothing but the two of you cuddled on the couch, a bottle of wine, and the entire Star Wars saga
He could never thank you enough for supporting him and in turn he fully supports you in all of your passions
Imposter syndrome and insecurity are not allowed in the house
For every flaw you see in your work he will list 10 things he loves about it
"I know it's hard not to feel like this, but even when you can't believe in yourself, I'll always be your cheerleader."
Where's his favorite place to kiss you? Where isn't
It all depends on which part of you looks most kissable at any given moment
He'll kiss your lips, cheek, forehead. He'll even kiss your stomach totally unprompted.
Got freckles or beauty spots? He's abt to become a problem
In his eyes, you're walking cinema that he can touch, taste, and love. He wouldn't miss a second of you.
Bottom line: Johnny's happiness in life is bringing joy to the world and you're no exception
The smiles of millions of his fans at Cage Con is only equal to one of yours
664 notes · View notes
theemporium · 6 months
Note
💰 charles finds your olddd Pinterest boards filled with things little you once wanted. so of course, he buys them all for you. one by one each day until you start realising what they are🤣 charles loving & spoiling even little inner child you <3
like… is that a PONY??
thank you for requesting!🫶🏽
.
It was subtle at first.
Charles was a giver in every sense of the word, and that was something you had come to learn and appreciate over the time you knew each other. However, for a relationship that started on the foundation of him buying you gifts, it wasn’t particularly odd for him to splurge some money on you for pointless reasons whenever he felt like it.
You were used to the bouquet of flowers. 
You were used to the small pieces of jewellery. 
You were used to the fancy dinners at high-end restaurants. 
However, when Charles handed you a box with a very old but familiar pair of designer heels you remembered seeing all over the magazine covers when you were in school, it did make you raise your eyebrows a little. 
But Charles kissed away any second thoughts or questions you had before grinning widely, telling you he hoped you would wear them to the restaurant he was taking you to that night. And truthfully, you didn’t think twice about them as you thanked him for the gift. 
Yet, slowly but surely, more of his gifts started making you a little suspicious. 
You loved your boyfriend. You truly did. But he was never the most observant in real life despite his skills in a car, and you highly doubted that he just happened to remember all these random conversations you apparently had months ago. The mere fact he would use that excuse every time you questioned it should have been reason enough for you to know something was up. 
However, the confrontation didn’t happen until Charles had driven you out of Monaco, into some nice countryside in the south of France. 
“You bought me a what?!” 
Charles grinned proudly as he gestured to the building around you, surrounded by large fields that disappeared into the horizon. “A stable!”
“Charles,” you started but the words died in your throat as you tried to take it all in. You could hear the horses inside, neighing and huffing and probably wanting to be let out into the fields rather than the stalls they were currently resting in. Hell, the fact there was more than one was overwhelming.
“I even got your favourite kind of horse!” Charles continued, just making your confusion grow. 
“My favourite kind of horse?” You questioned with your brows furrowed together.
“Yes, it’s all black like the one in—” However, before he could even finish his sentence, he cut himself off. His eyes widened like he realised he said something he shouldn’t have, and that suspicion in you spiked once again.
“Like the one in what?” You questioned, though he remained silent. “Like the one in what, Charles?” 
“Nothing,” he tried to laugh it off.
“Charles.”
His cheeks flushed a pretty pink colour as his expression grew sheepish. “I…found one of your old moodboard things. On that app you sometimes use.” 
And your heart melted when you realised what exactly he found. An old Pinterest board you had started in your early teens and added to throughout the years until your early twenties. It was a collection of desires and wishes you had made growing up, a place for you to put the things you always considered unattainable.
And here you had a boyfriend checking everything off the board like it was a list.
“Charles,” you murmured softly as you moved closer, your arms wound around his neck before you placed your lips on his. “You’re so incredibly sweet.”
“I just want to make you happy, mon amour,” he murmured back with a soft smile on his lips.
“You make me happy,” you assured him.
“Then I have done my job well.”
.
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“good girl! make sure you finish that bottle for daddy!”
you watch her eyes grow blanker and blanker with every suckle on the baby bottle.
it was all too easy really, turning a bombshell college party girl into your perfect incontinent baby girl.
you met her on spring break. her DDs essentially spilling out of the tiny pink bikini she was wearing.
you spent the week talking her up, taking her sightseeing, and even partying. it was really her fault for being so careless and letting a random man worm his way into her life.
you keep in contact, and eventually tell her about this new detox drink on the market, after she complains about the minuscule amount of weight she gained on vacation.
you send her a twelve pack, telling her to drink one a day. meanwhile, you sit back and book a flight to come collect your newly infantilized baby girl in twelve days.
technically, you didn’t lie to her, they were a detox drink. instead of getting rid of toxins, they got rid of her brain cells, emotional regulation, motor skills, and most importantly her potty training.
by day two, she calls you crying from a wet bed, you ship her a case of diapers which she accepts not even thinking about it.
by day four, she publicly messes her white skinny jeans in class. you tell her to start wearing diapers 24/7, and start planting the seeds of dropping out. it’s far too embarrassing to show up to a class you shit yourself in the day before, maybe just stop going to classes for awhile.
by day seven, her texts become garbled letters, she barely can spell her own name. you have to switch to phone calls because reading “makes her brain hurt” and you get to hear her new baby lisp and her thumb wetly popping in and out of her mouth.
by day ten, she can barely walk, far too unstable to stand for more than a few minutes. you have to check her diapers for her, because she no longer feels when she wets or messes them. but you’re not done yet.
the morning of day twelve, you greet your brand new baby girl in person. you change her into a far more appropriate pink onesie and baby printed diaper. you give her a pacifier and put a bib on her to stop her from continuing to drool all over her tits. strapping her into a stroller, you pack up what few big girl things she might need and set out.
you make sure to give her a nice long stroll around campus before leaving, making sure to show all the frat boys their old hookup shitting her diapers and babbling.
it’s been a few months now, and you couldn’t be more happy. your baby girl is perfect, crawling around, watching princess cartoons, and filling her diapers are her only responsibility now.
every now and then, you’ll see her try and resist, snap out of it a little. today you caught her with a hand down her diaper, trying to babble about how she’s a “sexy big girl”. so you just made another bottle for her.
you laugh, watching her suck down the bottle. seeing whatever iq points she had hanging on flood out into her waiting diaper.
life’s perfect, for now. but you think she might need a baby brother in the future…
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heart2beom · 1 year
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call you later
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pairing: beomgyu x f!reader
synopsis: beomgyu swears women fall at his feet and he's in fact, single by choice—what better way to prove this to you than collecting the numbers of random people on the street?
you're in on the little fun too, until you manage to get soobin's number. because suddenly, beomgyu's a debbie downer—for whatever reason.
genre: comedy, fluff, best friends to lovers
a/n: late beomgyu bday fic...and its cheesy as hell 😭😭 anyways, nobody understands how happy i got after finding these icons, its literally perfect. this is exactly how he looks in the fic !!!! also lol this is practically me gushing over beomgyu while writing, its so self indulgent
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You don't know how this became topic of conversation for the hundredth time this week. After the events of the failed attempt of trying to get your upperclassman's number, Yeonjun—Beomgyu has been talking nonstop on how he's the most qualified person in your life that could hand you flirting tips, completely dismissing the fact that he's been single for the past two years.
He stops walking when you remind him that very necessary piece of information he seems to forget a little too often. "It's by choice! I'm single by choice!" you hear him yell. You don't pay him any mind, scrolling through your phone as you continue to walk.
He catches up to you rather quickly, hands in pockets as he walks backwards facing you, brown hair prickling his eyes because of the wind. "Do you seriously believe I can't get dates?"
You shove your phone back in your pocket, providing him with your full attention.
"Would you believe me if I said yes?" you enjoy how his hand shoot up to go over his chest, fauxing hurt with a huge pout—you've been telling him he'd do well majoring in theatre arts.
"You've lost your charm Choi, your age's getting to you."
He cracks a smile of disbelief, before continuing on, "I'm twenty-one not eighty-one knucklehead."
Beomgyu turns from facing you, walking by your side again. He clicks his tongue before saying, "You'd think that the closest people to Beomgyu would know him by now."
"Oh no, you're speaking in third person again." you whine.
He'd do this entire thing of narrating his life when he deems it necessary—which really should be never. It's also another reason why you're convinced theatre is his second calling—second to his very dramatic declaration of love to music.
"Yeah, because my best friend in the entire world thinks I'm a loser!"
He wasn't too far off. "Okay, I'll be honest. I do think you're a loser—"
"You're a loser." he retaliates.
"I was just about to compliment you!"
"How was I supposed to know? You don't follow an insult with a compliment, that's like, against the rules of socializing!"
You opt to narrow your eyes at Beomgyu instead of replying, taking the silence route. Beomgyu returns your glare, before huffing.
A few steps without anyone speaking until, "The compliment..." he mutters around a fake cough.
You snap your head to the brunette, lips slightly parted at his shameless attempt of getting a compliment. You punch his shoulder lightly before laughing a little in disbelief but also in a familiar knowing way—Beomgyu's always been like this.
When he gives you a shrug paired with childish pout as to say 'it wouldn't hurt', you give in, sighing. "I was about to say that I think you're handsome but you ruined that dipshit."
It's quiet again, and usually, you'd look to your side, trying to relish in your friend's reaction — it's always so reactive, animated in a way that makes the receiving end feel happy despite the context — but you don't, instead, your eyes were focused on the path you were walking on. It was wide, the greenery of spring occupying both sides, aftermath of the disastrous, lonely winter completely dissolved.
"You do?"
You almost laugh before his tone set on you a little more; his voice was lower, and you felt his eyes hesitantly looking at you, almost like he's genuinely looking for your affirmation.
You choose to look back at him, pursing your lips as you pretend to study the features you've grown accustomed to for the past five years.
You do think he's handsome—it's a given, even now, his bare skin devoid of any noticeable acne scars, lively and clear, his lashes—though a contrast to his boyish charm—so pretty and long you often find yourself feel a little envious whenever your finger would brush over them in awe. And god, if you could even begin to describe the way his lips—
He scoffs, turning away from your stare, pulling you out of your own thoughts. You blink a few times, before also tearing your eyes from the man walking beside you.
You went on too long without saying anything, how embarrassing. Clearing your throat you say, "I do."
He sighs. "You took too long to say that, I don't believe you."
You roll your eyes—you know what he wants. "I think you're handsome, Beomgyu."
You're not taken by surprise when he throws his arm over your shoulders, a teasing smile annoyingly plastered on his face as he shoves it a little too close, forcing you to look at him — you wouldn't complain anyway. "Awe, is little Y/N realizing Beomgyu's the love of her life, her soulmate, her beloved—"
"You're pushing it," you whine trying to push his face away, though the smile on your face is hard to hide. "I just called you handsome, it's not like I'm blind."
To the wanderers around you, the ones sitting on benches enjoying the view of cherry blossoms, they'd assume Beomgyu was your boyfriend with the way he had his arm comfortably laying off your shoulder.
"I'm not just a pretty face Y/N. In fact, I'm so cool that I could get the number of the first girl that passes me."
"No, no you couldn't."
Beomgyu naturally takes this as a challenge when he scoffs, finally removing his arm from you, "Watch me."
That's how it started. The ten minute stroll to get the park's infamous ice cream turning into something way bigger than it originally was.
"Her." you say, one hand on the rough bark of the tree you both were hiding behind, another used to discreetly point at the woman who had a child on her lap, clearly busy as she yelled on the phone.
Beomgyu was directly behind you, his head over yours, as he tries to get a good look of who you were pointing at.
"Are you crazy? She has a kid!" he whisper shouts, though the situation really didn't call for it. The woman was at the least three yards away from the tree you guys were behind.
"I thought love knows no bounds."
That seems to get him, using his beloved philosophy against him.
"It—it does if she's married!"
"You're so traditional. People can raise their kids on their own."
When he doesn't budge, unconvinced of taking such a chance, you turn to face him. Which is a mistake because now you realize how close he was. You clear your throat, dismissing the way the proximity was weirdly effecting you. "You lost. Bet's done."
"What? No! I have seventeen numbers and you have like...five. You lost, fair and square."
"This isn't fair! You made me ask an old man for his number, I had to stay there for twenty entire minutes just so he could type it in!"
"I'm not going Y/N, nothing you can do can convince me." he says, eyes shut as he childishly crosses his arms, head turned to the side, chin up high.
You glare at him before shoving your hand down your jeans pocket for spare change—surprisingly feeling paper. When you pull out the mysterious object, your eyes widen at seeing a twenty dollar bill. You've never gotten this lucky before!
It was too late to shove it back in because Beomgyu opens an eye to peek at what you were doing, noticing the bill you had in your hand.
You look at the boy, who was wide-eyed, then back to your very lucky money. "Fuck..." you groan, slapping the bill on his palm, internally mourning the loss of your money.
"You work miracles Y/N." he says cheekily. You deadpan, which gets the man holding up his hands as defense, flashing the money he just got out of you, with a teasing smile before he proudly turns to approach the woman.
Was that even worth your money?
Chewing slightly on your bottom lip, you observe through narrowed eyes—you can't really make out what he's saying, but the woman's brows were furrowed. Not a good sign.
A smirk makes way on your face as you lean against the tree, arms crossed.
Beomgyu still wears a smile, saying something again. You think that's the end of it, he apologized for bothering her and failed— but that isn't what happens.
Your smirk slowly falls when you see him typing something in his phone.
There's no way.
Before leaving, he gives the kid on the woman's lap a high five.
No way.
"You got her number?!" you shout in disbelief when he's finally in front of you.
"Keep it down!"
You're impatient, waiting for his response to your question, but with the way he had his chin raised proudly, hands in pocket, you got the answer.
You blink a few times, trying to piece your shock together. "But how? She's married! She—"
He gasps before pointing an accusatory finger at you. "I knew you saw that ring! You were trying to embarrass me!" you don't reply, instead just crossing your arms, huffing. "But see who came out on top? This guy." he turns his finger from you to himself, a smile of accomplishment spread on his face.
"Okay, I get it. But is she seriously cheating on her spouse while having a kid? That's fucking messed up."
"I just asked her where I could get the best cakes. She said BonBon's Bakery, which is, like, thirty minutes away."
You narrow your eyes, mouth wide—he can't just do this! "You didn't get her number! You—you tricked me!"
"Yes I did, and I'm proud." He says, walking to go behind you again, searching for your next victim.
You sigh, "Why'd you ask that anyway?"
"What, the cake? Because my birthday's soon idiot."
Oh yeah, his birthday.
"Go up to... the the blonde one! Wait, no, nevermind."
You furrow your brows, "Why'd you just take that back?"
He's quick to reply, "No reason. Oh! Go up to him."
You don't bother to look at who he was pointing at now, instead focusing your attention on the blonde Beomgyu had previously pointed at.
He had a pair of sony headphones, walking, eyes glued to his phone. "Soobin." the name slips out your lips absentmindedly as your eyes follow his figure.
"The random guy I'm pointing at is Soobin?" Beomgyu asks scratching his head, playing dumb.
No, the random guy he's pointing at is a middle aged man with a bald spot. You get into action, quickly walking at the direction of Soobin, who was by now, very far.
"Hey, what are you doing?" Beomgyu's hand is on your wrist, making you turn your head back to him. You tilt your head. "Going up to Soobin and getting his number?"
He breaks into an uneasy smile. "But you know him. That's an unfair advantage."
"I don't know him, you know him. I'm playing on fair grounds." you say, a little confused on why he was caring about advantages anyway—Beomgyu had double the numbers you had, he was winning.
When he doesn't let go, you decide to just shake his loose hold on you, chuckling awkwardly, giving him one last look before trying to catch up to the blonde.
Beomgyu never felt so much nervousness as he waited behind the tree, watching the scene unfold between you and his other best friend, Soobin.
His eyes fall down to see the scattered dandelions in the grass. He gulps before quickly bending down to pluck one out. It's a little childish—the way he holds the flower close to his lips, blowing air with all his force, making sure the dandelion is devoid of any white fluff. Wishing that your beyond terrible flirting skills would be so unflattering that Soobin would reject you.
Which is not the case.
When Soobin bashfully waves, a small smile on his face as he turns away from you, walking away—Beomgyu finds out at the age of twenty-one, that wishing upon a dandelion was a hoax. It's further rubbed in his face when you skip towards him, a wide smile on your face.
He drops the dead flower, pursing his lips as he steps on it.
"Guess who just got a number." you sing-song, waving your phone at him.
"Haha, congrats." he manages to smile, rolling his eyes.
"I'm going to catch up to you and win, be scared." you threaten though, your tone a little too excited, full of pride. Was this how Beomgyu felt on an hour basis? Because god, does it feel great.
"I think we should stop here for today."
You snap your head to Beomgyu, brows furrowed. "What? No!"
"We've been here for more than two hours, my legs are tired." he whines with a pout.
You take notice of your surroundings— the once blue sky was now a deep shade of orange, the park was a lot more empty, only a couple people walking down the path.
Yeah, you should definitely go home now.
"We're ending this formally tomorrow, 6PM sharp. Whoever has the most numbers gets fifty from the loser."
He nods before holding out his hand. "Deal."
You shake it, "Deal."
Though you smiled, you couldn't help but feel as if Beomgyu's mood had taken a complete 180.
You dismiss it—he probably is just tired.
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Movie Sundays—epitome of the typical movie nerd enthusiasts gathering around one TV screen on a specific day, in a specific time and binging 70's shit that is no longer relevant in today's society.
When you open your door, it's typical Beomgyu with his plaid shirt over his plain white one, barging into your apartment like he was your roommate and comfortably following through his usual routine.
"Take off your shoes you hooligan." It's a little ridiculous how often you have to remind him, but that seems to be apart of the routine too.
"It's literally just crocs."
"Yeah, crocs that stepped in dog shit on the way here."
"You're so dramatic." he mumbles, but still takes them off anyway. You would've shot back with a 'funny coming from you' but routine calls, so, you let him go.
You go to your bedroom, fetching a couple pillows before going back to the couch.
Movie Sundays often ended with both of you losing track of time, slipping into deep sleep the moment the clock struck midnight.
It was never your intention to make this movie ordeal into a sleepover on your couch, but that's usually what ended up happening, so preparing for it is always a good idea. Waking up with sore necks proved to be the official worst way to start a day—you'd know.
It's also the reason why Movie Sundays are now held on Saturdays—the change being made around three years ago. It's ridiculous, some would think that by now, you'd call it Movie Saturdays but Beomgyu said that it'd 'take away the magic' if you did — whatever that meant.
"Did you run out of water bottles?" he yells from the kitchen.
"I don't know, check the fridge!"
Beomgyu was tasked with getting the snacks and some water, you didn't have to do much compared to him but he seemed to enjoy getting the autonomy so nobody minded.
"Your fridge is so dystopian." Beomgyu comments, plopping beside you on the couch, throwing you a packet of cheespuffs.
"Wow, how incredibly nice of you to say as a guest."
"I'm being serious though, you have ten rows of mountain dew and ...one egg carton? You're like the stereotypical college student"
You're focused on finding something to watch instead of paying any mind to Beomgyu's rambles—who really tended to say anything. Like right now, when he pinches your cheek seemingly out of nowhere.
"You're so cute." he coos like you were a newborn baby—it truly felt as if Beomgyu was experiencing effects of anesthesia during the process of you finding a movie. You send him a death glare but that only spurs him on as he whines, "See? That was so cute"
You ignore him, finally making the decision of what movie could start off your move marathon. You nudge his shoulder, tearing his attention from his phone. "Hey, how about this one?"
The good thing about picking Beomgyu for your movie ventures was that you guys had similar tastes.
Romcoms. The classic cliched genre that is filled with the worlds cheesiest tropes.
"Yeah, that's good."
Usually it'd start off with Beomgyu making comments every few minutes, but then they'd die down after the third movie which is exactly why you leave the best movies for last—his yelling would've destroyed your watching experience.
Beomgyu tended to be the one laying his head on the armrest so it didn't take long for his leg to be sprawled on top of your lap—serving as a blanket for you.
You don't mind, focused on the scene playing until the buzz of your phone catches your attention. You hesitantly look at your phone, then Beomgyu, then your phone.
It was like an established rule to be off phones when Move Sundays was in motion, it's just that nobody had decided to say it aloud. But the whines that would come from one person when the other was busy on their phone during a movie served as enough reminder that using your phone was frowned upon.
But you couldn't help it. You've been expecting a call from Soobin for the past week, the day you got his number long over. Any notification from your phone tempted you. Foolishly you'd think it was finally Soobin, but that was never the case.
You were starting to believe that he didn't straight up reject you because of his politeness—which really just felt like shit. Were you seriously that pitiful?
Those thoughts dissipate into nothingness when you see the text notification on your lock screen. Texts from someone you've been readily expecting for the entire week.
[soobin, now]: hi :)
[soobin, now]: sorry for not calling or texting you i was just...
When you click on the notification, you expect to see that the end of the text is 'busy' or something of the sort but instead it's...nervous.
Sorry for not texting you I was just nervous? Why would he be nervous?
You can't help but snort, the ends of your lips curling up at the text.
Before you could quickly come up with a response, Beomgyu's face is right next to yours, narrowing his eyes at your phone screen.
"Who're you texting?"
"Fuck!" you shout, instinctively throwing your phone in shock. Thankfully, the phone lands on a chair instead of the floor, and your breathing is back.
You snap your head to Beomgyu to give him a piece of your mind but then... you remember you technically were the one breaking the unsaid rules of Movie Sundays. You collect your anger, sighing before you hold up a tight lipped smile, "It was an emergency."
When he quirks an eyebrow, you further continue to add onto your lie as you go to get your phone. "My grandpa got a heart attack, it's insane."
He rolls his eyes. "You have a grandpa named Soobin?"
Of course he was fast enough to read the contact name.
"Why'd you even ask if you knew?" you ask, sitting on the couch with your phone in hand.
He ignores your question, eyes focused on the TV. "Just put your phone away, you can text him back later."
You give him a look before shutting off your phone and crossing your arms as you tune back into the movie. Or at least somewhat. You're not sure what's up with Beomgyu and the mention of Soobin—at first, you think it's because they had a fight, but you saw them hanging out just fine the other day.
It was weird, but you shake your head out of your own thoughts, dismissing the boy's crankiness as something you really just made up in your head.
That is, until you decide to check your phone again while he goes through a catalog of movies.
"Are you guys dating?"
The sudden question paired with a dry laugh of his own makes you furrow your eyebrows, clicking on your phone to close it. "Hey, what's your problem?"
"What do you mean what's my problem? I don't have any problems."
You roll your eyes, groaning a little. "Did you guys fight or something?"
"No."
You peer at him for a second, urging him to add something more. It works, as his eyes look at you for a second before going back to the TV. He shrugs, "I don't know, it's just weird."
"What is?"
"You getting close to Soobin."
You're even more confused now...wouldn't someone want their best friends to get along? And be friends?
"I don't get it..." you mumble, still looking at him as he avoids any sort of eye contact. "How's that weird?"
He sighs, shoulders slumping. "He likes you."
When you don't respond, he continues, feeling his mouth dry the more he says it, "Like, like-likes you. He says it's love at first sight."
Ever since his best friend had personally confided in him that he might have the biggest crush on his other best friend, A.K.A the love of his life, Beomgyu had done everything in his power to keep you from formally meeting the blonde. Which included a lot of running and a lot of excuses he had to keep up with.
One, because Soobin was totally your type—Beomgyu would know. Two, because he doesn't think he can survive you falling in love with his best friend. It'd be the ultimate awkward situation. Third wheeling would be his daily routine, and it sends him shuddering at the thought.
You laugh, still trying to piece the information together. "What? Wait. How—why is that weird? I mean, okay. He likes me, so what?"
Beomgyu snaps his head to you, almost as if to tell you 'you should know why!' but he quickly controls his facial expressions because you don't know why. Instead he just opts to pout as he tries to explain. "It's weird because—because, like...um..."
"You're—you're going to hurt his feelings just because of a stupid challenge, that's very cruel Y/N." he says, childishly crossing his arms.
"I'm not going to hurt him...you know I'd never do that!"
"Well, you don't feel the same way he does. It'd be like you're leading him on."
"I mean...I can feel the same way he does, if time allows. I think he's pretty cool, seriously." You try to reassure him, but it has the opposite effect. Beomgyu's eyes droop, almost resembling one of a puppy as he looks up at you.
"You—you like him?"
"I said I think he's cool dummy. And that I think I can learn to like him."
"That's not how liking people works."
You barely control the urge to roll your eyes as your phone was above your face, scrolling through your social media mindlessly. "Sure it does. Taking the time to know someone is basically learning to like them."
It's silent as Beomgyu finally picks a movie, the familiar soundtrack giving you the hint that it's West Side Story.
"Well, maybe you could learn to like me too." It was barely audible over the movie playing but you still heard it, the quiet mumble from Beomgyu, concealed with a slight pout.
Your mouth parts a little snapping your attention from your phone to the brunette next to you, "Huh?"
"Huh?" he returns your gaze with wide eyes, fauxing innocence.
"Beomgyu, you just said something. Say it again." You sit up straight, your posture a little more fixed.
"I didn't say anything, I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Beomgyu!" you yell flailing your arms around, with your brows furrowed, and that makes him jump a little, flinching. "Repeat what you said!"
"No!"
You pull out the pillow behind you and threaten to hit him by raising it over his head which gets him talking. "Okay! Okay, hold on!"
"First, put that down!" he yells dramatically referring to the pillow—arm shielding his face.
You reluctantly oblige, slowly lowering your pillow.
When both of your breathing starts to steady, Beomgyu speaks up. "This is not how I planned on telling you—"
"Just say it Beomgyu."
"Okay, look—" he takes a deep breath in, "Imagine there's a totally different dimension. You've known this friend for five years or so—"
"So... you."
"Not me! Just, just imagine someone else." you roll your eyes, trying your hardest to keep your urge to smile down, you've watched enough romcoms to know where this was going.
He continues. "And that friend tells you that 'haha, I'm totally in love with you'. How would you respond? Like, rhetorically."
You sigh, deciding to go along with him. "Rhetorically..." his ears perk up, you could either crush his dreams or—
"...I would reject that friend."
"Oh..oh! Oh yeah, totally. That makes sense—"
"Because they're someone else, not you."
It falls quiet as Beomgyu blinks a few times, processing what you just told him. "What?"
You give him a smile before turning to the TV screen, "I like you too."
He also turns to face the TV, lips parted ever so slightly before he just breaks into a smile, biting down on his bottom lip, trying to contain his squeals.
It was so intune with your friendship for both of you to just sit there after confessing your love for the other, watching the movie you've both watched a hundred times before, in silence as the clock almost struck midnight.
It wasn't anything dramatic, just two people silently enjoying the tragic love story between Maria and Tony while snacking.
Beomgyu thinks you don't notice, but your eyes still catch how his fingers slowly 'walked' to yours, nearing them inch by inch and finally holding them. You laugh a little at how how silly it was, and he does too in reaction—contrasting to the scene currently playing, the death of multiple beloved characters finally occuring.
Your eyes lazily look over at your clock, then you smile looking at the boy next to you. "What's your wish? It's almost your birthday," you manage to say, fighting through your sleep.
Beomgyu is also clearly on the same wavelength as his voice is hoarse, barely hearable, "My wish..."
"Kissing you?"
Your smile grows bigger— god, he was so cheesy. "Come here you big baby."
"That's so unsexy... don't call me big baby when I'm about to give you the best french of your life..."
You laugh, hitting his chest lightly. "Okay, okay I promise I won't."
When he nears your face, the movie in the background playing lines you both could recite by heart, he cups your cheeks, breathing a little unsteady, before smiling. "What?" you whisper.
"I don't think this is a dream."
You look into his eyes for second before deciding to go in first, catching his lips with yours. It's like a small peck, soft and slow as your hand find themselves tangled in his hair. You pull away for a second, looking at his lips then his face, "Yeah, I don't think it is either."
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ending a/n: you finished!! i didn't do the usual and ask you to reblog in the beginning, but i'll do it here hehe, reblogging [the little sign by the heart button] helps push this fic!
it's like the main thing that helps me out and its what tumblr's algorithm picks up on!! that said, i'd love to hear your thoughts on this, i love writing best friend!gyu ><
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jooba · 1 month
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wolfman x reader
"Imagine getting the great news that you're one of a million civilians chosen to go to a distant planet, to intermingle with the local aliens. Unfortunately, your online friend doesn't exactly seem to like that idea."
TW: MDNI, reader referred to as 'girl', sexual desires, anxiety, neurodivergent reader, reader big dumb, licking, 'virgin' reader, hand appreciation
wordcount: 2,388
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Three words: Civilian Space Program. The most incredible opportunity of a lifetime (for an average Joe like you).
One word: Congratulations! The letter you held in your shaking hands almost didn’t seem real. It was glossy, professional, and signed by someone so important that it was a 100% probability that you would never breathe the same air as them. Congratulations! But it was real, and your life would never be the same. You were going to space. To meet aliens. Your poor little heart almost couldn’t take it. Breath labored, you quickly snapped a picture of the letter before posting it to all of your socials. Quickly, friends and family bombarded you with questions and excitement, just as in disbelief as you are. Several phone calls later, and plenty of assurances to those with concerns, you fell back onto your couch, still clutching the letter. In just a month, you would be boarding a vessel with 14 other civilians, shipped off to the planet Geron 6GI, and left there for 3 years to “create relations” and “cultivate a human lifestyle”. Whatever that means. All you knew was that you… were a monsterfucker… and… well… aliens are sort of like monsters too. 
In your elation, you nearly missed the newest comment on your Instagram post. It was Peter, an online friend whom you had known for years. It simply said, “call me.” Peter knew about the program and how badly you wanted to be in it, but he was pretty adamant that your chances were too low. Smiling, you dialed his number. He answered on the first ring, speaking before you had a chance to.
“This is serious? You’re serious?” 
“Of course! I’m freaking out, Peter. I’m going to SPACE. I’m going to fuck so many aliens, you don't even know. Well, you do know, but-”
“You’re leaving in a month?” He asked. You kicked your legs in glee, squealing. 
“Yep! 3 years in space and depending on how the program goes it might go on for longer. God, should I bring my toys? Do you think they’ll even be allowed on the flight? But what if the aliens have toys that I can buy…” Your breath hitched just at the thought. There was silence on his end for a few moments.
“You’re a virgin.” Cheeks turning red, you scoffed into your phone.
“So what?” 
“So you’re giving yourself away to some random alien?” He hissed the word lowly, talking in a manner you had never heard from him before. You take a second to collect your thoughts, not understanding where his aggression is coming from.
“Peter… we live in the 21st century. Virginity is a stupid construct. Besides, I uh... I’m not really a virgin, you know.” 
“What?” 
“Ugh, can we not talk about this? So embarrassing…” You mumble, turning to a more comfortable position on the couch. There was silence as both of you struggled with what to say next. It wasn’t like you were actually embarrassed talking about sexual things, but Peter had a way of making your stomach flutter. It was awful having a mini crush on someone online, and even worse when he insisted on hearing all the details of your life. All the details. 
“I’m going to come see you.” He said, sighing into the phone. You froze, blinking in surprise. The two of you had never met in real life before, you’ve never even seen a picture of him! Sometimes, you would discuss meeting, but he lived a long flight away and schedules never seemed to work out. Over time, the thought of seeing him in person became too daunting, and you always shot him down. What if he thought you were too ugly to be friends with? What if the two of you couldn’t get along in person, and he lost interest? 
“A-are you sure, Peter?” You could hear the smile in his voice as he responded. 
“Of course.”
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You stood nervously in the airport, shifting back and forth. People kept glancing at you, giving you curious glances. Avoiding eyes with an old troll whose beard desperately needed maintenance, you wiped the sweat from your face with your sleeve. Maybe you’d be less nervous if you had brought a friend with you to pick up Peter… Your phone buzzed with a text. 
landing now
You watch as the terminal quickly fills up with tired travelers. Eyes swiping back and forth from person to person, you attempt to pick out a man to match Peter’s description of himself. But his description was so vague, all you really knew was that apparently he was tall and had brown hair. 
Someone bumps into you, and your phone clatters to the ground. They quickly apologize but scurry away too quickly for you to get a good look at them. Grumbling, you bend down to pick up your phone, dusting it off and checking for cracks. When your eyes lift, your heart explodes in surprise at the wolfman standing before you. Hot! Inner you squeals. Standing nearly two heads taller than you, he’s lean and dressed very cleanly. Chestnut-colored fur streaks around his cheeks and neck, speckled with darker colors around his hairline and dipping underneath his shirt. Black eyes peer at you, squinting slightly.
“Oh, um. Hi!” You laugh nervously, tugging at your hair. “Just dropped my phone.” You wave your phone in front of you, but then quickly tuck it away when you realize how dumb you probably looked. The wolfman’s mouth slowly curls up into a predatory smile, top lip slightly gaped to allow for pointy fangs to peek through. 
“You’re cute,” he says quietly, eyes appraising your figure. You have to desperately ignore the urge to cover yourself from his evaluating gaze. You laugh weakly.
“T-thanks.” You give him a small smile. The two of you stare at each other for a moment. He hikes his backpack up over his shoulders, raising one eyebrow at you. Does he want something from you…? Oh god. Despite his good looks, it’s not the best time to be flirting with someone: not when you’re waiting for Peter. 
“I’m sorry. I’m.. uh… picking up a friend. Sorry.” You glance away from him, pretending to search the crowd for Peter. Why is he taking so long?
The wolfman grumbles with quiet laughter, almost a mixture of a purr and low-pitched whine. It's a rather charming sound. Suddenly, his clawed hand is on your scalp, rubbing against your hair to mess it up. He tugs certain strands this way and that, causing an absolute mess. You gasp, pulling away, quickly attempting to fix the mess he just made. 
“You’re even denser in person than I thought you would be,” he says, looking extremely satisfied at your misery. His ears twitch slightly. You pause, squinting up at him in irritation.
“Well, that’s rude. And please don’t touch my hair, I don’t know you.” You take a step back away from him in caution just to be safe. 
The wolfman huffs, rolling his eyes slowly. “That’s the thing. You do know me.” He pulls his phone out, and types onto it quickly, before looking at you expectantly. Your phone buzzes. A message from Peter. 
right in front of you. so dense.
You can’t quiet the gasp that leaves your mouth in time. You gape up at him, astonished.
“You never told me you were a wolfman!?!” 
Heart racing, you bring your knuckle up to your mouth and light chew on a finger. All these years, all the calls and long talks and he never thought to mention his species?! Oh god, you have said so many embarrassing things to him: things you would never say to a non-human. Things about giant monster cocks and clawed hands and fluffy sensitive ears and oh my GOD. You swear heat is steaming out of your ears with how embarrassed you are. 
“Didn’t think it mattered,” he shrugs. He reaches up to lightly scratch at one fluffy ear, maintaining eye contact with you. It twitches at his touch, apparently sensitive. You want to coo and squeal at how cute it is, but you restrain, just barely. Gnawing on your finger, you avert your eyes. You must not look at the handsome wolfman. Must resist. Must get Peter home without drowning in your drool…
One car ride home, hours of gentle ribbing and teasing, a desperate call to the nearest fast food joint, and a change into pajamas later, you find yourself sitting on your couch, a bowl of popcorn in hand, waiting patiently for Peter to join you. He’s taking a long time in the bathroom, but you’re not too worried. It seemed your apartment was a bit too small for him, and he was constantly ducking his head and squeezing past your furniture. Admittedly, it was really charming. You can’t help but shovel popcorn into your face as you wait. You can’t wait too long, otherwise the popcorn will get stale! In the middle of licking your fingers free from butter and salt, Peter plops down next to you. You slide down the couch and end up sitting right against you. He wraps an arm around you on the couch, hands already playing with your hair. He’s dressed in loose pajama pants and a t-shirt that says ‘You are fang-tastic!’ in faded letters.
“Really couldn’t wait for me, huh.” You smile in embarrassment, pulling your fingers out of your mouth. His dark eyes quickly zero in on your glistening fingers. Grimacing, you go to wipe them on your pants, but his hand wraps around your wrist before you can. You immediately notice how much bigger his hand is than yours, and how fur wraps around his knuckles but his fingers and palm are bare. 
“Let me,” he purrs, eyes drooping into half lids. He opens his mouth and a long, pink tongue rolls out. It’s rounded at the end and fades into a slight purple the further back it gets. You’re instantly drawn to it and watch in stunned silence as he brings your fingers up to his mouth. He licks a long stripe up your fingers before twisting and turning them to lap at every inch. Quickly, your fingers become drenched in hot saliva. You clench your thighs, wishing he would put that tongue somewhere else… A soft noise leaves you, and he meets your eyes again. You mentally berate yourself for having dirty thoughts about your friend. He nips gently at your pointer finger. You squeak and pull your hand away, face certainly red. You hold your hand to your chest limply, now drenched in saliva. You blink at him, words caught in your throat.
“Mmm… tastes good.” Right. Good popcorn. Ha ha… ha… The TV blares and the two of you startle at the noise. Peter is quick to grab the remote and mute it. He watches the quiet television for a moment, throat bobbing.
“Let’s talk for a moment, space girl.” His voice is almost... uncertain. You grin unabashedly at the nickname, pleased. It immediately calms you down and you find yourself relaxing.
“Sure!” You place the popcorn down and turn on the couch, facing him directly. He turns to face you as well, one leg crossing over the other. The arm around the back of the couch begins to tap on the cushion.
“Just let me talk for a moment, no interruptions, okay?” He raises an eyebrow when you open your mouth to respond, and you huff, but stay quiet.
“Honestly, I thought I was being pretty straightforward with you all this time, but with this space fiasco, I knew you weren’t exactly getting the message. Had to talk to you face-to-face. I’ll make this short and sweet, easy to understand. I don’t want you going to space.” He raises one hand when you look like you are about to object. Breathing deeply, he continues.
“Don’t go to space. Stay here. I’ll give you all the monster cock you want, promise… I’m not usually one to wait so long, but I knew during our first call I would have to take it slow with you. I’ve been biding my time all these years, slowly getting to know you, waiting for my chance. And then I saw your post. When I saw that, it left me ‘peterified’.” He chuffs at his joke, pleased. 
“So yeah, I’ve got feelings for you. And a lot of them revolve around ramming my cock down your throat. Or god, knotting you,” he sighs wistfully as he speaks. He looks like he wants to say more, but stops himself. 
.
.
.
Ho….ly…. SHIT! You’re frozen on the spot, mind racing with a thousand dirty thoughts. You’ve dreamt of this moment, dreamt of a monster desiring you. And now…now you’re presented with an opportunity. 
“F-forget space! Oh my god. Peter? Peter!” You’re squealing now, your body shaking with excitement. You stand up and begin pacing, not even really aware of what you’re doing. Peter relaxes on the couch, mouth tilted up in a sly smile.
“This is crazy. Are you serious? He’s serious. I-I need to shave! And prep! Oh god, I don’t know if I’m ready for this…” You bite at your finger nervously, the beginnings of nausea twisting your stomach. Who knew that aching and wanting something for so long would have you feeling so sick?
Peter tugs at your hand, slowing your pacing. 
“You’re getting ahead of yourself, you nut. Just breathe.” He breathes in deeply, and you copy him instinctually. He guides your breath into something much slower, much more manageable. You smile at him gratefully, falling onto the couch. 
“Sorry, this is just… a lot,” you sigh out. He shakes his head. 
“Not at all. Just take it easy.” He nudges your knee with his. “Just think about it, yeah?” You nudge him back, eyes twinkling.
“So, all this time you’ve…” you question. He simply nods his head.
“But you didn’t even know what I looked like?” You're surprised when his face starts to turn a gentle shade of red. He coughs into his fist, looking away. He speaks, in a cool tone that doesn’t match his cheeks, “Yeah, I knew right from the start. Your looks are just a plus.” 
Aaand now you’re looking away, embarrassed. 
“Oh, okay,” you mumble. 
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