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#this one will probably get a part 2 but who knows
usedpidemo · 3 days
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Stargazing (Twice Mina)
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With the way things are going, Mina’s begging for trouble. And not the usual slap of the wrist kind that celebrities get away with—the kind that’s scandalous, career damning.
She’s so close to falling apart.
And as you watch her come undone—the very image that defines her gradually disappears—you can’t help but think: she deserves this.
—————
If there’s any clear-cut takeaway, it’s this: Mina is designed to be gorgeous, and she plays the part to near perfection. 
That’s the whole point. Here’s a sea of media outlets and paparazzi, accompanied by flashing cameras and screaming fans on one side. On the other, stars and figures from different fields, all dressed to the nines and emanate a distinguishable aura. The ‘I’m better than you’ kind. No amount of modest smiles and perfectly curated PR-fluff can disguise the noxious air of celebrity on the red carpet. 
Then you look at Mina, wearing the hell out of that backless dress, designed by none other than yours truly (you). You couldn’t have asked for a better muse. She carries herself and your brand around with a confident smile—with pride—seemingly indifferent to the raucous screams telling her to look this way, that way. Wherever her profile turns, cameras illuminate the crowd in near-perfect unison. 
It’s a slow motion fashion moment. 
As if she couldn't look any prettier, she brushes her hair with a quick, delicate swipe of her hand with queenly grace. The cameras live for moments like these. It’s what goes viral online; it’s what gets social media buzzing. She’s a K-pop idol, the media will say and it’s true, but she doesn’t look out of place with the so-called elite. If anything, she blends in seamlessly, rich, quiet, and enigmatic personality and all. 
Cameras continue to follow her as she walks through the carpet. She greets a few other celebrities in the vicinity; mostly Hollywood actresses and artists before she disappears behind the steps of the building. Throughout the entire ordeal, you were never on her mind, not even during interviews, nor when she was in clear view, even though you made her what she is now. All she can think about is herself and her character. That’s how fame works.
You don’t even get a text. Your only reference is a note that reads 23:00. 
—————
The next time you see Mina is hours later, at the promised time. One slender leg enters the backseat of the vehicle. She remains mostly untouched, leaving the gala looking the same as when she entered. She’s considerate enough to wave and give a flying kiss to the crowd, who unsurprisingly, go crazy for her. It’s a convincing act. You would, too, if you weren’t always by her side for ninety percent of the day.
She breathes out this deeply relieved sigh once the door slams shut. She’s tired—of being someone else, and just exhausted in general; she’s been in front of a mirror since five in the morning and it’s almost midnight by the time the event ends. You can tell she’d rather be in her hotel suite than anywhere else.
So you drive. No words. Just hit the road and get out of there. 
Even late into the night, Paris is still bustling and lively. You don’t make it past three streets before being met by traffic ahead. It’s an agonizing crawl. The satnav says you’ll arrive at your hotel by 2:00 in the morning. Mina probably won’t make it by midnight, at this point because she’s on the verge of falling unconscious, resting her head on the door. Her heels are set on the opposite end, with her lower half resting along the edges of the backseat into a couch position.
Even when she’s asleep, she’s still gorgeous. 
“Miss?” you gently call to her, snapping her from her tired daze. She gives you a mild stare through the rear-view mirror, unable to speak.
“We’re gonna be held up by traffic. You want something to eat?” you ask, knowing she likely won’t take anything more than a handful of fries or half a burger. 
“Sure. Whatever.” Mina sounds cold, a little annoyed somewhat. The past day has been unkind to her health; she arrived at the airport yesterday after a different schedule and barely had less than five hours of rest before dedicating the entire day for a gala she had contractual obligations to attend. She couldn’t say no even if she wanted; she’s got her whole schedule curated and planned out for months. 
You have more time to get her dresses planned out and prepared out than she has to breathe.
And time is unkind to both of you right now. Traffic trogs along at a snail’s pace. The arrival time on the satnav moves further and further away. Sunrise will meet you above a red light at this rate. How anyone gets around in this city considering the number of events that are happening all at once is beyond you. You only drive through Paris a handful of times a year, all for the same reason, and you abhor the idea—let alone the experience—every single time.
It’s difficult enough to wait, especially in this late of hours, when money and careers are on the line. Even more challenging is keeping a cool head and withholding yourself from using your instincts against the trusted systems of the algorithm. Mina will call you many things. She’ll call you insane. You don’t mind; it’ll be on the lower end of insults and comments you’ve heard from the so-called ‘elite.’ 
At the end of the day, you’re just simply following orders. 
You swerve off the main road, into narrow alleys and streets that aren’t registered on any official map. Anywhere that can give you a sense of progress and hold momentum. You drive. You make liberal use of your klaxon against anything and anyone. You go around in circles, sometimes looking at the satnav if it’s kind enough to give you a shorter, quicker path. In your haste, you completely overlook the star, the celebrity you’re meant to protect and coddle like fine art, and cracks begin to form.
“Shit!” Mina fastens the seatbelt, in distress and wide awake from your uncharacteristically aggressive driving. She lifts her head. Pierces your gaze through the rearview mirror with a mixture of panic, concern, and frustration. All that hours spent in the makeup room to look perfect, down to the smallest of details, coming undone within a few minutes. 
She seemed rather proud of her appearance, too.
Of course, her demands bounce off your ears—or ring through like white noise. You only know your task. Get her safe. 
Even though it’s your very idea, you forget about the thought of eating, too. You’ve passed by a couple of McDonalds along the way, but are blinded by tunnel vision to recognize a single one. It’s not a big loss; she’s as tired of eating fast food as much as you are. It isn’t good for her image right now, either. 
Eventually, you do make it back to her hotel. A little over midnight, but still not as early as you wanted to be. You look at the status of your passenger princess. She’s about as coddled as a five year old playing with her doll. A mess.
When you open up the door for her to step out, it’s a dramatic moment that gathers everyone’s attention and fixes every eye. It’s loud. 
It also so happens to be empty in the area.
The way she slaps you in the cheek echoes throughout the valet like the sharp crack of a whip, or the pop of a firework. Fucking hell, she hits hard. For a dainty woman like Mina, she’s surprisingly strong. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she snaps, cold and bitter. 
You find no mistake in what you did. In fact, you believe you’re doing her a service. Tomorrow, she’ll be at the airport and out of the country faster than when she came in. She doesn’t have to think about you for the foreseeable future. You only see a moody, ill-tempered celebrity frustrated that circumstances haven’t gone her way. Chalk it up to fatigue, but you can’t be arsed to explain yourself or react accordingly at this point.
She’s also pretty when she’s angry, you can’t help but think. Not the pouty, cute, wholesome kind—the ‘I’m gonna rip your throat’ out kind of ire. Sometimes you forget your job and admire just how gorgeous Mina is. You’re no different than the paparazzi or the average fan.
It makes her heated. You’re mentally smirking.
It would be a waste to fight over something as petty as reckless driving this late. No one got hurt; not a single traffic light or speed limit was violated. But her heart jumped a little bit when she expected the least. In her eyes, it’s a reasonable enough incident to show some attitude and assert her status over you.
But not tonight.
Instead, you take her by the wrist and lead her to the alley beside the hotel, away from potential cameras and prying eyes. She yelps, but you slip a hand around her mouth so she remains quiet. Mina is too tired to show some resistance. 
“Listen here, Miss Myoui,” you tell her, pointing your finger directly at her. “I did everything right to make sure you have a fine, comfortable experience in Paris. Did your dress, drove you around, everything. What I did was save you a few hours of sleeping in the car.  I never asked for anything from you, so don’t come acting like an ungrateful brat.”
“Fuck you.” Mina raises her palm, readying another thunderous, face cracking slap as a threat. “I could have done all that instead if I wanted to.”
“Need I remind you who made the dress that you’re wearing?”
She freezes, unable to find some form of retaliation or rebuttal.
“Thought so.”
“Well what am I supposed to do, then? Get on my knees and worship you as my lord and savior?” she asks. 
Suddenly, something clicks inside your head. An idea.
“That—” you pause, mentally noting the entire sequence in a flash, “Actually, that’s not a bad idea.”
“I’m not doing it.” Mina rolls her eyes, turning her gaze away and crossing her arms. Somehow, she’s managed to recognize your intent so quickly. What isn’t surprising is her natural cleverness and intelligence. “Not tonight. Not after what you did.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“That’s what you believe, asshole.” She shakes her head. “Just—let me go.”
“Would be such a shame if a rumor spread around then that you were spotted in the bathrooms with one of the billionaires,” you say, blunt in your threat. “Wouldn’t you hate that? I hear there was a tabloid photo of you spotted with one of the presidential candidates too—”
“You lie.” Mina’s eyes glare at you. You don’t flinch.
She’s not wrong. You’re only telling a half-truth. It’s true that there were billionaires who attended. It would be a strange event if there weren’t any present, in Paris of all places. The report of a presidential candidate showing up is legitimate as well, but that’s as much as you know as the general public. What goes on inside, you have no knowledge of.
“And what happened there was nothing at all,” she adds. “So quit trying to blackmail me and just let me fucking rest.”
“Then explain this to me.” You point at the dress she’s wearing—your dress—and find different sized patches where they shouldn’t belong. They’re not by design; they’re clearly the result of some kind of external tampering or meddling. Around where her legs should be. Near her tummy. The gala is an indoor event, yet it looks as if she had been soaked in some capacity. 
Something’s quite off.
“So?” Mina defends herself, unwilling to concede. “Got spilled by drinks, and you don’t really care if it gets ruined.”
While it’s true you usually don’t mind your dresses getting ruined, it comes at a price. “I’m not mad. And yes, I don’t care if you do fuck all with that dress. Hell, that candidate is very lucky he got to clap that—”
“Shut up!” 
By instinct, Mina slaps you again.
You chuckle. The sore redness of your cheek isn’t going to silence you. 
As she tries to walk away, you grab her by the wrist again. Pull her close to your chest. She trembles, but can’t do anything to stop or shake you loose.
“So you admit? You got fucked by that candidate?”
“No!” Mina remains adamant in her tone. She twists your grip to free herself. “Just—fucking stop already!”
“Only if you blow me. Just a quickie.”
“What? Why?”
“As remittance for the ruined dress, of course. Remember? Ruined dress, ruined cunt.” You can’t help but grin as you remind her of the terms of your agreement. It’s not written in the contract, but a mutual trust shared between you and your muses. 
Mina sighs. A deal is a deal, even if it’s not signed on the dotted line. And she has the experience to show for it. Ultimately, she reluctantly agrees, sounding defeated in her response. “Fine. But after this, we’re fucking done.”
“I’m in a bit of a good mood today, so I don’t want your pussy,” you tell the disgruntled Mina, unbuckling your belt then unzipping your pants. “Not gonna lie, the thought of some future president fucking that cunt of yours makes me sick. Get on your knees.”
God, it feels wrong, but you’re enjoying every little moment of this, down to the finer details. The look of dissatisfaction on Mina’s face. The fact you can get her flustered with your teasing. The fact she’s obediently on her knees as you whip out your hard cock directly in front of her. She can tell you as many lies as she wants, but they have no firm ground to stand on. She’s not some stuck-up star unlike many others in that gala, but even she needs to be humbled once in a while.
“His dick is better than yours, anyway. I won’t miss this pathetic piece of shit,” she tells you, gripping to the hem of your dress, dodging every attempt to slip your shaft between her lips. 
All the more reason to plunge it deep in her throat.
“Is it? This piece of shit you love to ride on?” You grab your cock and pursue her evasive mouth. You have a hand planted on her scalp, holding her still, as she begrudgingly accepts your length between her lips slowly, in a losing effort to fight back. She gulps her throat, watching as her cheeks hollow, as drool begins to coat your sensitive shaft, until eventually, her seal is vacuum-tight and tension builds up in your groin. “This cock you want to use—fuck—”
Words fail you as you become reacquainted with the warmth of Mina’s mouth. She bobs her head back and forth, slipping a hand around the base of your shaft to stroke. Your cock is poking the back of her throat, your senses relaxing at the pleasure coursing through your body. You feel yourself slipping away—at the cold, at the heat of her sweltering lips, at the layer of saliva that fills every inch of your length. It’s all too much.
This is Mina’s least favorite position. She’d rather have you beneath her most of the time, relentlessly bouncing on your cock till you’re completely drained; it’s how most encounters with her go to the point you simply give up and expect yourself on the mattress as soon as you enter her room. None of that matters now, not when she needs your very shaft to fill her thirsty, dry mouth, as a palette cleanse from the boring gala and because she needs you as much as she utterly hates you.
She doesn’t like the thought of you above her. Her eyes can’t be bothered to look up. It’s a strange dynamic; she’s the celebrity, she’s supposed to have control, not you. Your hand tugs on her black hair, begging her for more, and it reinforces the idea. You love this. Mina, the quiet, cold personality that everyone wants to be like, is zealously sucking you off and you’re helpless to how incredible she is. The suction of her throat. The drag of her tongue on your head, then on the sides. The passionate hum of satisfaction. You recognize the smug grin etched on the corner her lips while she doesn’t bother to look back, knowing full well she can take you any way she wants and you’ll fucking love it. She’s so aggressive, yet perfectly paced. 
And she moves like she can read your mind—cum and saliva dripping from the corners, her tongue running laps around your balls, her mouth devouring you entirely with each entrance. Small, whiny sounds that resemble a choke—they’re nothing compared to the echoey moans you can’t help but make. You’re gasping for air as if she’s punctured a hole in your lungs—and to an extent, she has. Your body instinctively has to remind itself they’re leaning on air, because she’s making your spine contort in ways they shouldn't be twisting. 
Mina is quite used to this. The notion of having to suck a cock. Not just yours, but fans, higher-ups in suits, all kinds. She’ll tell you yours is the best one, and you’ll believe her. You can tell by personal experience. You shouldn’t let control slip, especially now, when such power is rarely vested on you, but you can’t help yourself. There’s some urgency in handling her, but it might be a little too late. Especially when—
“Mina,” you pant, and you sound so desperate. “So close, Mina. I’m so close. I’m gonna—”
She continues to create friction, and eventually fire. Her hands wring around your balls and your base, tightening the coil of pressure in your stomach and in your veins. Spiraling further and further out of control, you can feel your legs crumble in a last ditch attempt to hold on. With your remaining resolve, you cling to whatever semblance of clarity you can find. 
And she plunges her lips further into your length. Her tongue descends lower, to the underside of your balls. None of that disdain and hate from moments ago can be found, only zeal and passion. It’s not graceful in the slightest; it goes against everything her image represents, yet she’s so damn good at it, you can’t stomach the thought of her doing something this filthy, this obscene. The very idea breaks reality. Yet here she is, on her knees, a mouth filled by cock, encouraging you to cum without uttering a single word.
So you oblige her. 
You don’t give her the decency of asking. You just pour it all over her with reckless abandon. Yanking her by the scalp, swiftly pulling yourself away in the heat of climax, blasting thick warm seed all over her pristine features, using her visage as a canvas for all your repressed thoughts. Mina welcomes every drop, sticks her tongue out with an inviting stare, unfazed by all that hot load you’re shooting directly at her. Her professionalism is practically hardwired, second nature to allow herself to be used this freely. It’s more than personal satisfaction; it also pays the bills.
It’s a win-win.
“Happy?” she asks, propping herself back on her feet, using the top of the dress to clean herself. Not a waste when it’s sole purpose is to be one and done. 
The mess around your groin—residue sticking on your pants—answers her question. You can only nod in agreement as you clumsily and slowly gather your bearings. She shakes her head, amused at your predicament, but proud of her work.
Mina acts nonchalant, walks back to the hotel while you still work through your trousers, as if nothing ever happened. As if you weren’t moaning in public about how airtight her lips are around your cock. You hurriedly follow her, only to be met with a surprise waiting just past the entrance doors.
“I hope Paris has been kind to you so far, Miss Minari, because we certainly won’t be.”
Three comically mischievous men of similar stature and appearance, in nearly identical outfits (a simple shirt, coat, jeans and beret combination, how inspired) with the most cartoonishly evil looks on their faces. They could be anyone on the street. You can immediately tell they’ve been waiting for some time.
“Who are you?” you ask, stepping in front of your client. Mina looks nervous, quietly analyzing the three suspicious characters.
“Doesn’t matter who we are, even if we tell you,” replies the middle man, matter-of-factly. “We have no intention of hurting you.”
“If that’s the case, then please step aside. Miss Mina won’t be taking any requests and she’s very tired, sorry.”
“I don’t think so, buddy.”
“What?”
“We heard everything. You lucky bastard,” says the man on the left. “I don’t think Mina seems to be tired at all. In fact, I believe she wants more of it!”
All eyes turn to the person of interest, who seems to be in denial. Mina, this cold, calculated star, appears to have a harsh, sudden reaction. Offended by the comment, she angrily retorts, “No? What the hell are you saying?”
“Yeah, you heard the guy.” The third man steps forward, the other two close behind slowly approaching her. “It’s all over you. Don’t try to deny it. You enjoyed getting blasted all over that pretty face of yours!”
The three men nod in unison. You don’t have a firearm or any weapon on hand, but you’re willing to fight all three guys, even if you meet a terrible end. That’s the likeliest outcome. Lady luck seems to have disappeared on your side, but it’s part of the job, after all.
“Relax, girl. Again, we don’t wish to hurt you or your bodyguard.” The first man, the guy assuming leadership reiterates. It’s as civil and diplomatic as it sounds, but the looming threat remains prevalent. And it doesn’t do them any favors when they creep up towards both of you like wolves. “We just want what he has.”
“And what is it?” Mina frowns, hiding herself behind you, peeking over the shoulder, trembling.
“Oh, you know what we want, Miss Minari. Give it to us and then we’ll leave you alone.”
Where’s the security in this hotel, you wonder? The ground floor is dead empty of guests, which is to be expected, there’s hardly anyone at the front desk, and there are zero guards at the valet that normally wait for the next car to pull up. It’s midnight, what did you expect? 
“Can’t I give you guys some money instead?” she pleads, desperate. She’s no longer hiding herself, but standing side by side with you. Shaking. Nervous. “Name your price and I’ll pay it.”
“I don’t think that will work, miss.” The three men remain adamant. They have you trapped against the corner of the entrance door. Neither of you can hardly move, let alone run. “We’re in Paris. We can easily rob anyone for our keep.” 
Judging by the rather expensive watches and sneakers they all sport, they seem to have a point. 
“But please, we just want one. One round with the finest Japanese idol in the business. That’s it,” the first man adds, his cohorts nodding in agreement.
Mina turns to you, calling your attention. “Hey.” You’re on high alert, waiting for the moment for hell to break loose. She merely stares. Nothing comes out of her mouth, just an expressive, seemingly strange gaze that doesn’t register anything in your head, nor does it open up any sort of interpretation. And for a while, you don’t understand what’s happening or what’s her intent. The three guys seemingly wait, shrugging whenever you eye any one of them. There’s no rush; time seems to stop at that particular moment. You know their demand; you have ears. You just don’t know if Mina is actually serious about caving to the pressure.
—————
(And fucking hell, you’re so—so—screwed.)
You don’t know if Mina will recover after this. Specifically, her career.
Clothes scatter everywhere in the room, with no regard for cleanliness or the host’s decency. Mina is set in the middle of the mattress as its centerpiece. The star of the show. Her dress is bundled around her waist, baring her chest and legs, while every man is completely in the nude. She’s spread on her fours, with the two subordinates lined up parallel in front of her, the third right behind her. You plan to join after, when everyone’s seemingly tired, when you can have her all to yourself.
At least, that’s what you think will happen. You know she’s going to get used all night long. Mina’s bracing for impact, hoping she can walk out in one piece after this.
You’re holding your phone, ready to record every little thing that happens. It’s not by their request, but your own personal desire. You love seeing it—the notion of Mina getting her comeuppance. The two men in front of her waste no time, stroking themselves hard and slapping their cocks right into Mina’s face, spilling flecks of precum on her. You notice the giddiness in their expressions as they incline the idol’s chin up, nothing but unbridled lust on their faces. The only thing missing is hurling her around and ragdolling her.
“Such a pretty face deserves all this cum,” says the second guy. He’s on the pudgier side, evidently not meant to be in the same atmosphere, let alone the same bed as Mina. “I’ll have you know you were my bias, and you have the most numbers on my counter.”
Utterly shameless.
Meanwhile, the first guy, his colorful body filled with numerous tattoos, slaps Mina’s cheek hard. It ripples throughout her lithe figure, rattles the bed a little. She keens. He takes a moment to look at the hand that committed the sinful act. He’s shaking, in disbelief. He did that. It’s a moment in time, a monumental occasion. Anyone else in his position would be shouting in the streets, celebrating too. 
You would.
The third guy, this aged man who’s evidently in his mid-to-late forties and probably shouldn’t be consuming K-pop, continues to stroke himself to Mina’s face. Too bad her mouth can only fit one cock at a time. Her hand grabs his shaft and he grips her hair instead as she pumps him at a delicate pace. Their collective moans fill the room as each person assumes a position around Mina’s sensitive holes, filling them hastily. No technique, no patience whatsoever. 
It’s pornographic for all the wrong reasons. How it all came to be. The setup. The characters. The very scene itself. Down to the shitty camera recording. Not befitting of an idol such as Mina. It’s got its own charm, but for the most part, it's as disgusting as you imagined. You can’t believe she’d agree to this. At the same time, you can’t look away. It’s a car crash that you know is gonna happen, yet all you can do is watch helplessly—and stroke yourself hard to.
All three men have different rhythms in which they fuck Mina. Tattoos slowly pounding at her dripping cunt, accompanying each deep thrust with a loud smack of her ass. His one hand grabbing at the hem of whatever’s left of her dress, itching to rip it off. Mina’s moan is suppressed by Pudge’s cock protruding through her throat. A fistful of hair in his grip, the other on her flushed, reddened cheek. Expecting her to take his relentless rhythm, only for her gag with each pump into her airtight lips. As if he doesn’t know how giving head works. The oldest man loosens up, lets his body hang as Mina strokes his cock with her ironclad fingers, letting flecks of cum spread over her neck and her shoulders, content with letting her handle him how she wants. 
In a way, it’s admirable seeing Mina like this. Three cocks and all, her commitment to fanservice and satisfaction is any fan’s dream for their idol. You’ve seen it firsthand before, how she attends to each fan one by one, but to handle multiple without a single complaint is quite the accomplishment. She’s gonna take it, and she’s going to love it.
And in fact, she does. You’ve never seen her this dedicated and into pleasuring anyone. How she uses her other hand to seize Pudge’s cock, spitting and licking the head, setting him ablaze. Even as the man with the tattoos begins to wreck into her sopping cunt, foregoing leisure for speed—as her whines echo throughout the room—she maintains her composure the best she can. Even begging him to go harder, which he obliges. The bed’s quaking, seemingly closer to collapse, as the man screams to the ceiling, “Fucking tight—so close—cumming—aah—”
All three men are clinging to Mina in some capacity. On her waist, using her hair, or her shoulders—as they all appear close to their climaxes. Their collective groans of pleasure make this evident noise that warrants numerous calls of disturbance or concern. Imagine the commotion when the staff called in to investigate eventually finds out. The notion spurs Mina as she leans further into it—looks right into the camera as she licks up Pudge’s underside. As if demanding you to take the best shot of her while doing it. 
It’s scandalous—the way Mina uses her expressions to make herself look good even under duress. How she winks, sticks her tongue, twists her face into lewder and lewder reactions while the three men who seemingly have power over her, now fold under her control. If only you could step in and be a part of the show, but you can’t.
And she looks even better with cum all over her.
The three guys moan in unison for dramatic effect. As if it was part of the intended shot. One after the other, each man reaches their own orgasm and blasts their hot load onto some part of Mina’s body. None of them seem to find their way into what they initially wanted, which is her holes. Mostly—tattoos man is partly into a deep thrust when he meets his abrupt end, only filling part of her cunt with his seed before deciding to pull out and throbs onto her back, her legs instead. Pudge gets most of her face, which she happily accepts. But even with her mouth wide open, he can hardly land his cum onto her sweet lips. As for the old man, he was never a factor to begin with. He had spilled his cum on the side, on the shoulder, on some hair, on her fingers. He was done before the others even finished.
What an unexpected sight. 
You stand from the couch you’ve been sitting on, close in on the aftermath of their orgasms, watching as they stand lifeless around the centerpiece that is Mina, running her fingers over all the cum spilled on her body. This is child’s play to her, yet the most surprising thing is: she wasn’t expecting any of the three guys to finish this soon, let alone all three of them. She has this unsatisfied look in her eyes observing her conduits, the supposed ‘threats,’ as if they didn’t live up to her expectation.
“Did I look good?” she asks you, tilting up, resting her head on her palm.
You show her the phone, speed past the raw footage. She watches like she’s the director—which she kind of is.
“Mm—not good enough,” she adds, grabbing the phone and grabbing a tripod from the bedside drawer. “Set it up over there and do it again. They’re not leaving this until they get it right. And you’re gonna show them the way.”
Looking at their tired, exasperated faces, they’d rather be anywhere but here. 
As for Mina, she’s the most energetic you’ve seen her in a while, eager for more—and you’re gonna have to make some phone calls explaining why she isn’t at the airport by morning. 
—————
(A/N: woo missed another deadline/date but happy birthday Mina! By request/commission, so thank you for waiting and I hope it was to your liking. I do agree we need more subby Mina but in the end she owns all of us let's be real XD Thank you for reading!)
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drvscarlett · 1 day
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Let Him Cook Pt4
Series Part 1, 2, 3, 4
Taglist: @bookstore-of-dreams @barcelonaloverf1life @ririyulife @minseok-smaus @mehrmonga @sltwins @charlesgirl16 @six-call @spideybv28 @casperlikej @weekendlusting @janeholt3 @evie-119 @leilanixx @randomgirlnumber-13 @itsjustkhaos
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Y/NCooks just posted a photo.
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Y/NCooks Finally some vitamin seaaaaaaaaaaaaa
User1 Oh she is living the life!
Friend1 Say hi to the boyfriend for me
YNCooks he says hi Friend1 enjoy lovebirds!!!
User2 She is so hot and her boyfriend is equally hot. Power couple!
User3 Something about that back and that filter seems kinda familiar.
User4 OMG right? Its like I know it from somewhere but I can't pinpoint it. User5 I thought I was the only one but it seems like its really familiar.
User6 Its giving a pinterest vibes! She is everything I aspire to be.
User7 Are you still the one in-charge of cooking Y/N?
Y/NCooks Yuppp. But don't worry because he lifts the grocery and pays for the food, its an equal relationship User8 The boyfriend seems like a catch
User9 God when will it be me?
Charles_Leclerc just posted a photo.
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Charles_Leclerc good food and good company
User1 Who is that??? Who is that hand?????
User2 Charles is finally breaking his single streak, a sad day for all the Charles girlies
PierreGasly Oh so that's why your boat was missing Charles_Leclerc I'm not discussing it here PierreGasly We just want to know, who is the lucky lady User3 Ohmygod Pierre just found out just like we all did
User4 That blue filter is back
User5 Just when we thought he forgot about it
User6 why is everyone and their partners softlaunching in a yacht
User7 who else is in a yacht? User6 There's this homecook and masterchef winner named Y/N that is softlaunching their partner on a yacht User7 Oh bestie that back looks familiar, don't you think User9 User9 SUSPICIOUS!!! User9 Nah, I highly doubt Charles can bag a chef. I mean the man couldn't cook pasta and its just pasta User7 you are probably right, im just delulu
"This is getting mildly annoying"Charles pouted "Usually they are quick to connect the pieces"
"All in due time honey"
It was actually a funny thing for you since fans find it highly impossible that Charles could bag a chef as his partner. You wouldn't tell Charles but you admit that his cooking skills is not a major selling point to a lot of chefs out there.
Ever since MasterChef ended, you two have been open about going public. The relationship has been kept in wraps for over 3 years so Charles is feeling pretty confident that it has already been a tested by time. But more than that, Charles opened up how he wanted to go public so that he'll be able to showcase his support.
"I can't wait for them to figure it out just so I can tell the world that I am the luckiest guy in the world for having you as my partner" he clings to you as a loopy smile appears on his face.
"And I can't wait to showcase the world how you have been drastically improving with your cooking skills" you smile "You can be my sous chef when you are off season"
"I'm not really sure if you are being sarcastic but I'll take this as a win and I'm considering myself masterchef approved"
The Gordon incident
There were 5 missed calls from Charles which made you slightly worried. You were unable to answer the call since you were driving home. You immediately rushed to the apartment and you saw a weird scenario. Charles was spread out on the floor, face down and seems to be in pain.
"What happened to you?"you asked as you set down your bag at the counter.
"Leave me be, I am a disgrace. I have fallen from heaven." Charles moped.
"Seriously honey, what's going on. You are scaring me"
Charles only lifted his phone for you to look at. You looked at it and it was a screenshot from Twitter with a quote tweet from Gordon about the pasta incident.
"Charles, you can't bag a chef if your cooking is as disastrous as that. Call me when you have the time-Oh my god. Gordon did not just say that" you burst out laughing.
"Laugh in my misery, go ahead and laugh."
You have to contain your giggles but then you cannot seem to help yourself. Charles continued to mope at the floor how no one will believe that you are his girlfriend now.
"It was just one time that I wasn't able to cook pasta properly, one time"
"Yes honey but the internet is forever"
After a while, Charles got up and you were slightly confused when he started bringing out the pots and pans out of the cupboard. He took out some of the pasta and then he grabbed his apron.
"You are going to teach me and we won't stop till I get a good pasta redemption" Charles said with full determination.
There was a bright idea that suddenly popped in your head, "I think I can do something better than that"
You started to type in your phone and after a while your phone started ringing. A familiar face on the screen and Charles almost fainted after hearing the accent.
"YOU GOT GORDON ON SPEED DIAL TO TEACH ME?"
Dinner with the drivers
The Australian Grand Prix was the first time that you actually met Charles' friends and former teammates. Charles arranged for an exclusive dinner with the grid drivers of 2025 in your restaurant.
"How did you get a reservation here Charles? I have been trying to get one for my parents, they love the Chef here and supported her during the masterchef days"Oscar asked.
"I know someone" Charles was trying his best to suppress his grin and elaborate further.
"Make sure to tell me later, I would love to bring my parents here. Cheers mate"
Dinner went on progressively well. There were variation of cuisines available and it catered to their specific Even Lewis loved that the vegan option was vast and Nando even agrees that if this is how much food options vegan has then he can go Vegan.
It was now tiMe for dessert and some drivers opted for a coffee while some thinks they deserve for a cheat day.
"Is this Ferrari's new strategy to shaving weight?"Max joked "Make the other drivers eat more so the car will be unbalanced"
"Fred is getting more creative with his strategy eh. Last year with my appendix and this year with Charles' food"Carlos agreed
The whole table erupted with the antics but Pierre is dying with curiosity already. Charles kept on mentioning how tonight is a really important night for him to announce something. He can't forget this dinner since its all that Charles has been talking about ever since they arrived in Australia.
"But in all honesty, you said you have something to tell us Charles" Pierre wondered "I'm dying to know"
Charles excused himself for a second and all the drivers on the table watched as he went to the kitchen. You were still in your chef's jacket when Charles spotted you.
"Is it time already? Do I look okay?"
"You look more than gorgeous mon amour"Charles replied, giving you a soft kiss to the cheeks.
The two of you walked out of the kitchen with hands interlaced with one another. The table suddenly fell quiet as they saw the two of you approaching the table. Charles has the most smug grin on his face.
"Everyone, I would like you to introduce the talented and amazing Chef for tonight Y/N" Charles lifted your intertwined hands "And she's also my girlfriend"
The drivers were all silent and shocked as they pieced out everything together. Then the flurry of questions started.
"Did you try Charles' pasta?" "Were you poisoned to say yes to him?" "How on earth did Charles get a MasterChef winner" "Can you teach me how you made the appetizer with the pea and corn"
It was so funny and you two were in a long night for explaining. But as you sat down bext to Charles, you felt at ease. You know that you can handle anything together.
The accidental reveal
Charles_Leclerc just posted a photo.
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Charles_Leclerc We’ll do everything together to get as many of those trophies in the years to come
User1 Charles is a future WDC
User2 those trophies needs a little bit of polishing, don't you think?
User3 The dust that they have been collecting
User4 Leave the man alone, he's away from home 24/7
User5 is it just me or did you guys see the MasterChef trophy at the back
User6 isn't that the australian trophy, maybe its the p2 from last year User7 nooo! User5 is right, it has the logo
User8 SIR THAT TROPHY IN THE BACK ISN'T YOURS
landonorris lol since when did you have time to do a sidequest with masterchef while we race User10 LANDO! maxverstappen1 surprised he can hold himself till the end. CarlosSainz55 surprised he can cook Charles_Leclerc uninvited for dinner landonorris NOW WAIT A SECOND
Charles_Leclerc and Y/NCooks posted a photo.
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Charles_Leclerc spot the game difference is getting difficult.
User1 Man really said fuck it!
User2 I can't believe this crossover
User3 If someone told me this happened a year ago, I would have laughed at you User4 There is no way Charles_Leclerc Why not, I have lots of redeeming qualities
User5 So you mean to say Charles Leclerc is the boyfriend she has been talking about in MasterChef. How did we not piece this out together?
User6 The adopted by the italian family. The cake after Charles P3 in Jeddah. The long distance relationship. THE LECLERC BROTHERS AS HER CLOSEST FRIENDS. HOW DID WE NOT SEE IT User7 I think its because we think Charles can't bag Y/N Charles_Leclerc you all underestimated me
User8 My new favorite trope, the woman who loves to cook for Gordon and the man who loves to get grilled by Gordon
User9 IM LAUGHING! Remember that tweet Charles_Leclerc I'll have you know that I have improved!
User12 Where can I get Y/N, she is so beautiful and talented
Charles_Leclerc sorry out of stock!!!!
User10 Im laughing at how Charles is fighting everyone in the comment section. He really said, he has time
Y/NCooks posted a photo
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Y/NCooks the first two was taken two weeks into dating. We preferred staying indoors and the comforts of the house so we could have our privacy. Charles burned the fries and that's a photo of him insisting it was crispy not burnt // fast forward to two weeks ago when he insisted on cooking pasta and making pizza, it was pretty good. The pasta was actually al dente and the pizza was made from scratch.
Thank you honey for growing with me for the past 3 years. I love you all the way from Melbourne to Monaco (or whichever country you are in rn)
User1 This is so wholesome, I ship them together
User2 CHARLES CREMATED THE FRIES
User3 3 YEARS???? THAT MADE ME EVEN MORE SURPRISED
Gordongram FINALLY. The boyfriend is revealed. Hope I can taste some of your cooking Charles_Leclerc
Charles_Leclerc please have mercy on me Y/NCooks He cooks as much as he can so he can cook for you as a thanks for your tutorial lessons User5 GORDON TAUGHT CHARLES???? WHATTTT
User6 God I have seen what you have done for others
User7 I'm looking back at every post of Y/N about the boyfriend. I think I'm sleeping at the highway
User8 same, they are so lovely with each other
User9 Couple goals!
Charles_Leclerc I love you so much. But I thought you deleted that first date photo
Y/NCooks the internet is forever honeyyyyy User10 I love them so much
landonorris so now the cat is out of the bag, can you teach me how to cook now?
yukitsunoda0511 me tooooo! maxverstappen1 i wanna learn too Charles_Leclerc you're cooking maxverstappen1 ??? maxverstappen1 if you can cook, anyone can cook Charles_Leclerc you are always cooking during the races, let me have this maxverstappen1 no :)) landonorris I JUST WANT COOKING LESSONS!
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lovifie · 21 hours
Text
Lift Me Off My Feet
Chapter 11: Gaz’s Date
Masterlist
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10
W: Gaz x Reader, jealous Gaz, the tiniest bit of toxic Gaz, degradation, spanking, rough sex.
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A ruckus at the door brings you out of the book you were reading, a mischievous laugh on the other side of the door and when it finally opens you can't help but mimic Gaz's wide smile as he runs to you. He holds your face kissing you before asking: “Do you wanna go on a date with me tomorrow?”
There is an urge to the way he asks, making you want to say no just to tease him; but it's been days since you left the house so you quickly nod. He kisses you again, pulling the book off your hands and laying it down on the table (open, so you don't lose the page).
He softly pushes you back with the kiss, making you lie down on the sofa with him on top of you. You still wonder why he was in such a rush, and it gets answered when Soap enters the house panting and calling your name. 
“I'm here, Johnny.” You say, waving your hand so he can see you from the door. His face lights up for the second it takes him to see Gaz is already lying on top of you, looking up at him with a shit-eating grin. 
“Too slow, Johnny.” Gaz teases. “My date and I are already set.”
“Oh, away n' bile yer heid!” The scotsman complains, but still lays down on top of the two of you making you groan. You can tell Gaz is using his strength to take some of Soap's weight off of you, because you know damn well that if you had to lie under the two brick houses you would pop a lung. 
You chuckle at Soap's dramatism, looking at Gaz. “What are you not telling me, you little shit?” He looks at you with a boyish smile on his face, mischief clear on his eyes, not even bothering to play it as innocent. 
“There is this military gala that Price is making all of us attend.” He explains. “And now you are attending too.”
“Wait.” You say, reality is settling in. You slip from under him, sitting up and Gaz pushes Soap off of him making him fall on the floor; both of them sitting up on their new locations. “A military gala? Like… meeting your bosses and all of that? And like… what I'm supposed to do there? I don't-”
“Well technically…” Gaz cuts you off. “Price is our boss. And those that are over him usually leave really early, we go mostly to see old colleagues and get drunk. And you are attending… as my girl.”
“Our girl.” Soap quickly chimes in, correcting Gaz.
“Uh uhh” Gaz answers, shaking his finger. “My date, my girl. You already got yours.”
Gaz pulls you, sitting you on his lap as a petulant child who has been asked to share a toy. 
“Oi, Garrick, don't make me beat yer arse.” Soap argues, but quiets down when you move his head to rest on your lap.
“But then… you are introducing me to your… friends?” You ask, anxiousness setting on your stomach. “Are you sure about it?”
Gaz furrows his eyebrow at your question. “Are you asking if I'm sure about letting my friends know about you?”
You look from Gaz to Soap, both with the same confused expression. “Bonnie, if I could I'll keep ye in my pocket just so I could show ye to every single person I come across.”
“Exactly, like…” Gaz looks at you confused. “I think you keep forgetting that we are obsessed with you, birdie.” He chuckles.
He hugs you, kissing your cheekbone. “I want to introduce you to everyone I know, birdie. You are somebody to drag about.”
His words help to ease the thoughts inside your brain, finally letting your anxiety travel to other important matters.
You gasp. “The dress John bought me is still at base…”
“Ye aren't wearing the same dress again.” Soap chimes in. “Ghost and Price are buying ye another one.”
“They are shopping together?” You ask, confused.
“Laswell is probably with them too, so don't worry, I'll be pretty.” Gaz explains, as if you know who the fuck Laswell is. 
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It is already nighttime when you leave the house, hand on hand with Gaz. Feeling the prettiest girl at the world with the constant compliments for the four men. 
Once inside the venue, Gaz’s hand doesn't lift from your back. Always guiding you, introducing you to people and pulling you away from others that, according to him: “is not worth even knowing their names.”
Making sure to enunciate the “She's my partner” to anyone who asks, it was spoken before, that this was not the place to explain to everyone how the poly relationship worked to the old military men who were struggling to look up to your face and not stare at your chest. 
It doesn't make the other three men complain any less, Price going “Garrick” whenever the sergeant becomes a little too enthusiastic about you and him. There are a couple of people that Ghost tells you, know about their arrangements. Not the tiny details, but enough to know that there is something between the four of them and that if you are involved with Gaz, you are involved with the rest.
One of those people, is Alex Keller. Whom Gaz is really excited to introduce you to, and who ends up sitting at the same table as you. 
It is a round table, wide enough not to be able to reach Ghost's feet that is sitting right in front of you as you sit between Soap and Gaz. Gaz is also sitting next to Alex, and as the night goes on he slowly turns more and more towards him, giving you his back. 
You turn to Soap, pout on your face. “I think my date is on a date with somebody else.” You know it is unfair, they haven't seen each other in years and are just catching up; still, you are glad Soap is next to you or else you'll feel quite alone. 
“Ye can always make out with me.” Soap proposes, making you chuckle. “But I think I have an even better idea.”
Now, you know both sergeants are little mischievous shits; but the smile on Soap's face still makes you rethink on how much trouble you are going to get yourself into.
“Have any of us told ye that Gaz is a really jealous man?” Soap asks, leaning into your chair and resting his arm on the backrest of it. “Like, really jealous.”
“Gaz?” You ask, quite shocked that the so-sure-of-himself man is the jealous man out of the four. 
Soap nods, smiling still. “When we started, Gaz and I were the ones that mixed the pairs, to say it simply. And Gaz knew Ghost and I were already messing with each other, still, at the beginning whenever I'd kiss Ghost, Gaz would turn his head. I promised ye, if I hadn't seen him suck my dick I'd guess he was homophobic.”
His choice of words as you cover your mouth so Gaz can't hear you laugh, leaning more onto Soap's side. “That's why he pulled me away from you on the sofa?” You ask and Soap quickly nods, a smile on his face. 
“Especially ye, since you are the last addition. The three of us have been reassuring him that we love him to bits for years now, but ye still have a long road to go, bonnie.” He says, starting to look around looking for somebody. “And I think I have an idea of how to show ye.” 
He waves at somebody behind you after a second, urging them to come closer. You look behind, seeing a tan man approach with a smirk on his face. 
“Soap, hermano, long time no see” He says, clapping hands with Soap. “What have you been up to?”
“Alejandro, let me introduce ye to Birdie.” He says, before saying your actual name and repeating Alejandro's name to you. He shakes your hand, making you smile at the formalities and he winks at you, satisfied with making you smile. “And actually, I think she can use some of yer help.” He signals the man to bend down to whisper to him. “How do ye feel about messing with Gaz a bit?”
“Let me guess, if I say yes I get to flirt with the pretty lady?” He asks, whispering as well and laughing when Soap nods. “A huevo, hermano. I'm in.”
He pulls an empty chair from a close by table, Soap pulls your chair and Alejandro sits between you and Gaz. Who has yet to notice the treachery taking place behind him. 
It is easy to forget that you are doing this to get a raise out of Gaz, especially with how funny the conversation gets between Alejandro and Soap. Telling you about Soap's absolute lack of ability to learn Spanish, and how it almost got him into problems when he accidentally asked for a male prostitute instead of a cigar, when he kept getting the words puro and puto mixed up. 
You are laughing out loud, almost crying for it, not just you, the three of you. Alejandro is rocking back and forth on his chair, and his hand lands on your thigh, innocent enough that it doesn't even make you uncomfortable. But not innocent enough for Gaz, who has been side-eyeing the three of you for a bit now, Alex chuckling when he noticed he had stopped listening to him. 
The moment Alejandro's hand lands on you, he springs into action, standing up and walking behind you. “Birdie. Can I talk to you for a minute? In private.”
You stand up, knees weak at the look on Gaz's face. He easily pulls your chair back so you can walk. He grabs your hand once you take the first step and pulls you towards the bathroom stalls. You look back to Soap, and see him, Alejandro and Alex who have just taken your place smiling at you with a thumbs up. 
He pushes you inside the stall, locking the door behind you and then presses you against the wall, his hips pressed plush against yours. His hand grabs your jaw, making you look at him to his face. “What the fuck do you think you were doing, birdie?”
“What?” You ask, playing dumb.
“What?” He asks back, high pitched voice mimicking yours, his other hand raising to pinch your nipple through the thin fabric of the dress making you hiss. “Do you think I'm blind? Deaf? Or just plain old stupid? Hm?”
“I don't know what- AH!” He pinches hard, making you whine, cutting you off.
“Don't lie to me, birdie.” He says, face getting close to yours where you can feel his breath on yours. “Has Alejandro left you stupid or something?”
“You were ignoring me!” You complain, trying to act tough as if his degrading tone wasn't making you grow wet by the minute. 
“Oh! So that's it!” He asks, dry laughing. “I speak with a person for one minute!” He says, raising a finger to accentuate his words. “And you are already looking for another dick to choke on, right?”
“That's not true!” You argue, trying to avoid his gaze.
“Then show me, birdie. Show me mine is the only dick you want to choke on.” He says, rubbing his crotch against your abdomen. 
The moment he pulls back, you drop to your knees helping him get his belt undone. He lowers his briefs, shaft springing free and pulsing right in front of your face. He is already hard and it makes you wonder whether he was already when he stood up from the table. 
He grabs your wrist, and when his tip is inside your warm mouth he thrusts forward hitting the back of your throat hard making you gag but pulling your hands behind his back to prevent you from moving back. 
It’s ironic how similar it is to the first night you met him, when Price cuffed you around his waist. 
He thrust forward hard, your eyes watering as you fight your gag reflex. You wonder for a second if he is actually getting any kind of pleasure other than the feeling of humiliation you. 
One of his hands moves to the back of your head, pushing you closer until your nose reaches his happy trail. You look up to him, vision blurry with tears. 
He groans, pulling your hair to push you back and then up to have you standing. He turns you around, pushing your head against the wall. “I guess I have no other option but to fuck your ungrateful pussy, hm? Fuck you stupid so you can stop whoring yourself to every man? How many more dicks do you need, birdie? How much of a slut are you that four dicks the size of your bloody forearms are not enough?”
It shouldn't be turning you on as it is, every single feminist cell on your body getting ignored by all your blood flowing to your cunt pulsing with anticipation. 
He pulls your dress up, pushing your panties to the side before probing your entrance with his tip. He knows it's gonna sting, but in his jealousy-driven mind, that's what he wants. For your body to remember him tomorrow. 
He pushes forward, slowly, covering your mouth when you cry at the sting; waiting stills once he bottoms out to let go of your mouth. 
He grabs both your wrists on his hand behind your back, still keeping your head pushed against the wall. There is a loud sound of his hips slapping against yours, accompanied by the moans and pants of both of you. 
You could as well have the door open with the way you are fucking, everyone that walks by would know perfectly fine what's going on. 
He bends forward, close to your face, talking to you through gritted teeth. “This is what you wanted, right? To get fucked like a whore? While everyone outside knows that you are getting fuck? Filthy, filthy slut.” 
He moves back, letting go of your head only to slap your ass hard enough to leave an imprint. It makes you jump, making him grunt when you clench around him. 
“Fucking. Take it. Whore.” He says, snapping his hips at every word, knocking the breath out of you. His heavy balls keep slapping against your clit, sending shockwaves up your column making your toes curl. 
He slaps your ass again, hard, always on the same spot. And he doesn't relent until he starts to see the little purple dots of a bruise forming on your asscheek. It has tears threatening to fall from your eyes, still pulsing around him so close for release. 
“I bet you are scared I'm gonna leave you hanging, right, whore?” He asks, reading your mind. The thought of the man finishing before you and leaving you wanting your release was on your mind since he made you stand from the table. “You don't even care about anything else, do you? As long as you get to cum, you don't care that I talk to you like you are trash, do you? Such a fucking whore, only thinking with your cunt.”
He chuckles behind you, not sparing you a second to breathe as your orgasm comes closer and closer. “Then cum, you fucking whore. I don't have all night.” 
And you do, whaling his name as your whole body shakes when the orgasm rains over you. Your head hits the tiling with a loud TONK as you do, making Gaz laugh meanly behind you at your lack of control. 
He lets go of your hands, letting you support yourself on your hands instead of your face. He holds your hips instead, thrusting in and out fast and shallow, going after his own release. 
You clench around him, the overstimulation getting to you and that is enough for Gaz to spill thick ropes of his spent inside of you. Pulling out to see it spill out, just for him to shove his dick back inside making you moan when fucks his cum back inside of you. 
“Kyle!” You whine, needing a moment to breathe. He chuckles behind you, getting his dick out and moving to grab toilet paper to dry himself off you. You look under you, between your legs seeing the thin strip of his seed spilling out of you onto the floor. 
“Aw, birdie, you're letting it go to waste.” He comments behind you, while he puts his pants back up. 
You give him a look making him chuckle and you stand up, leaning back on the sink with wobbly legs. He walks between them, pushes one of your legs apart with his and gets two of his fingers back inside of your saturated cunt. 
You groan, slapping his arm. “I'm just making sure that you can feel my cum slipping out of you for the rest of the night so you can stop acting like a whore.” He says, beaming with a smile. 
He takes his fingers out, helping you clean up and throw the paper away. He holds you in his arms, the jealousy flushed out of his system turning him back onto his clingy self. 
You look up to him, his eyes shiny with love on them. Smiling widely at you. You don't know what pushes you to say it, but once it leaves your lips you are not sure who is more flabbergasted out of the two. 
“I think I love you, Kyle”
“Wh- Bird- I- You can't…” he sighs, resting his head on yours. “You can't say such a thing right after I called you a whore, Birdie!” He complains, trying to hide the smile on his voice. 
“Hm, don't call me a whore then!” You argue, the same smile on your face. “Are you not going to say it bac-”
Before you can finish the question, his lips are on yours. Plush soft lips kissing you lovingly, he is almost hugging your head with how tightly he is hugging your shoulders. “I think I love you too, Birdie. You little minx”
You chuckle against his lips, butterflies on your stomach as if mere minutes ago it wasn't his dick you were feeling inside of you. It's a silly feeling, but a warm one indeed. 
He kisses you again, a soft peck on your lips before softly patting your butt (the side he didn't assault before) and saying. “Wash your face and get out before they think I murdered you.”
You chuckle, getting spooked at your reflection on the mirror. You grab paper again, working on taking most of the mascara running down your face and the smudged lipstick. 
You do a decent job at it, cleaning Gaz's lips as well and walking out of the bathroom, still feeling your knees ready to give up. It is clear that whichever high rank that was at the party must have left, because the quiet dinner from before is slowly turning into a party. 
On your table, only Ghost, Soap and Price are still sitting down. Most likely waiting to leave altogether, but it makes the walk easier and as you try to sit down, Price pulls you into his lap, Gaz groaning behind you. 
Price kisses your temple. “Are you ready to leave?” He asks softly, and you shake your head grabbing the champagne bottle for the middle of the table. “I'm finally out of the house, I want a party.”
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It's late at night when the five of you finally make it home. Everyone's a little bit tipsy, enough to make everyone clumsy and to have an easy laugh at everything. That's how you go to sleep, helping everyone get naked too tired to bother with any sleepwear. Between giggles, kisses and smacks to everyone's butts with the corresponding “EH!”
It is a comedic image, the bed not big enough but everyone still stubborn enough to sleep altogether. Too clingy to sleep apart from each other.
Price wishes he could sleep like this every night, knowing the five of you are safe and within reach. 
If only he knew he wasn't going to be able to do it again.
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TADAAA
Hi lovelies!! 💗
We are now on the last stretch, only one more chapter left. And it has me on my feelings to see the series end 😭
But anyway, hope you like it 💗
Also, debating whether to upload the last chapter later today or tomorrow, so we will see.
Make sure to leave a comment or a reblog if you did 💗💗
TagList: @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @darkangel4121 @cassiecasluciluce @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tired-writer04 @evolutionarry @prettykinkysoul @pagesfalling @skyler-loves-rick-grimes @readerofallthingss @onewattson6529 @mynameismothra  @renabear88 @lolliepopsicle @reap3erslov3 @tooloudarts @sodavrrr @anirok2 @lilliumrorum @ladyxtiger @multy-fandom-lover @thriving-n-jiving @lotionlamp @spicyspicyliving @xxeiraxx @vampirekilmerfic @keiraslayz @risingofjupiter @witchthewriter @soupinasock @phantomly27 @arbesa-mind  @multifandomheathenannie  @spadekip @cmbghost @herefor-tojis-tits @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce
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agaypanic · 2 days
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Is this how you request a fic? I have no idea but I’ll try. I’m craving Regina George content. Can you please write something where reader is apart of the plastics but she’s not mean like the rest of them and that’s why Regina likes her. When Cady shows up and Regina has an interest in cady it’s too make reader jealous but instead cady ends up liking reader who distances herself from the plastics and then Regina gets jealous and admits her feelings so reader doesn’t end up with cady. If that makes sense? Thank you!
Craving Your Attention (Regina George X Plastic!Reader)
Masterlist
Request Something!
Summary: Regina George is the queen of North Shore High and she doesn’t like to share her toys, even if she doesn’t really play with them. 
A/N: kinda toxic!regina even tho thats not really a surprise. slight cady x reader, she likes you instead of aaron (also aaron doesn’t exist teehee). The girls arent homophobic bc cady tells gretchen she likes reader and regina ends up with reader (saying this bc idk if you’re gonna read this with 2004 regina or 2024 regina in mind, and obviously 2004 was a different time lmao) content warning for diet talk but it’s just part of one scene. Heavily relied on the mean girls (2004) script for this fic, so it's almost all written centered around Cady. all in third person which felt a lil weird to write because i usually write in second person lol idk if anyone’s gonna want a part 2 but imma lyk rn that im not planning on writing a part 2, mainly bc this took so painstakingly long
***
Everyone at North Shore High knew about Regina George. They’d be stupid not to. She was practically royalty. 
A queen bee was nothing without her little worker bees. First was Karen Smith. She seemed to give a whole new meaning to the word ‘clueless,’ but she was friendly. In more ways than one.
Then there’s Gretchen Wieners. She was Regina’s eyes and ears, whether it was wanted or not. All she wanted to do was please her leader.
And finally, there was Y/n L/n. If any of the plastics were to be deemed approachable, it was her. She was Regina’s right-hand girl, maybe even a bit more than that. But no one ever brought that up.
But then Cady Heron came to North Shore.
“Is he bothering you?” Regina tilted her head as she looked at the redheaded girl and the familiar boy who was talking to her. Y/n, who was sitting next to Regina, looked up from her food in curiosity. Regina didn’t usually talk to anyone outside of the table during lunch. The girl made a nondescript noise, so Regina turned her attention to the boy. “Jason, why are you such a skeez?”
Jason rolled his eyes, but tried to seem polite.
“I’m just being friendly.”
“You were supposed to call me last night,” Gretchen pouted, looking over her shoulder at Jason.
“Jason.” Attention was brought back to Regina with the simple call of his name. She wore a sweet smile, which meant that Jason was probably about to get a bite taken out of him. “You do not come to a party at my house with Gretchen and then scam on some poor, innocent girl right in front of us three days later. She’s not interested.” Regina then turned to the redheaded girl. “Do you wanna have sex with him?”
She looked shocked, giving an immediate no.
“Good. So it’s settled.”
“You can go shave your back now,” Y/n finished, and the four plastics waved him off. Jason walked away, but not before muttering an insult to the girls.
“Good one,” Regina said quietly to Y/n, who couldn’t help but smile a bit at the small praise. Before she could reply, Regina’s eyes followed after the red-haired girl, who was now starting to walk away. “Wait.” The single word made her stop in her tracks and look back. “Sit down.”
Regina moved her hands, signaling Gretchen and Karen to move to the sides of the lunch bench to make room for this mystery girl. After some more encouragement, she sat down.
“What’s your name?” Y/n asked sweetly, trying to ease the girl’s nerves.
“Cady.”
“Why don’t I know you?” Regina asked, looking at Cady curiously.
“I’m new,” Cady replied. “I just moved here from Africa.”
“What?”
“I used to be home-schooled.”
“Wait. What?”
Cady took a second, wondering why Regina kept saying ‘what.’ She didn’t think it was that confusing.
“My mom taught me at home-”
“No, no.” Regina laughed. “I know what ‘home-school’ is; I’m not stupid. So, you’ve actually never been to a real school before?”
As she spoke, Regina leaned more and more forward towards Cady. And as the conversation continued, Y/n wondered why Regina was taking such an interest in her. Regina never cared about anyone who passed by, too involved in the latest gossip session Gretchen had started or in Y/n’s appearance. Not that Y/n really noticed that; she was busy thinking about Regina to see that Regina was thinking about her. Either way, she didn’t understand why the blonde was suddenly so fascinated by this new girl.
“You’re like, really pretty.”
Oh… That must be why.
Y/n seemed to tune the rest of the conversation out, too wrapped up in Regina’s compliment towards Cady and the bright smile she wore while giving it. She didn’t know why it bothered her. It’s not like Regina belonged to her. If anything, Y/n, along with the rest of the Plastics, belonged to Regina.
Even when Regina brought Gretchen and Karen in close to speak to them and Y/n, leaving Cady awkwardly leaning back to give them more privacy, Y/n didn’t care much to listen. The gist of the conversation was that they wanted Cady to sit with them at lunch for a week, something they had never considered doing with anyone else in this school.
“Okay.” Regina started as Gretchen and Karen relaxed back into their seats, and Cady leaned back in. “You should just know that we don’t do this a lot, so this is, like, a really huge deal. We wanna invite you to have lunch with us every day for the rest of the week.” Regina wore a grin that meant she was up to something, but Cady didn’t seem to decipher that, and the rest of the girls didn’t know what it meant.
“Oh, it’s okay—” Cady’s tone seemed to indicate that she was about to decline, but Regina interrupted her before she could.
“Coolness.” The bell rang, and Regina’s eyes darted over to Y/n before going back to Cady. Her mischievous smile remained present as she, Gretchen, and Karen grabbed their trays. “So we’ll see you tomorrow.”
The three Plastics stood up and left the table, leaving Y/n in a slight daze and Cady confused about what had just happened. Y/n suddenly looked around, realizing that her friends had left without her, but the new girl was still with her. She figured that she should say something before leaving her alone. She didn’t have to be mean or unpleasant just because Regina seemed to like Cady.
“On Wednesdays, we wear pink.” Y/n said it with a timid but sweet smile, trying to get over the revelation that the girl she loved was setting her sights on someone else. Her hand patted Cady’s a few times before she stood up and picked up her tray. “Welcome to North Shore.”
As Cady watched Y/n leave, and as Janis and Damian dragged the redhead away to interrogate her about her interaction with Regina, she couldn’t help but feel warm. Maybe public school wouldn’t be so bad.
***
The next day, Cady was slightly nervous to sit with the Plastics. She felt like a double spy. Janis and Damian were under the impression that Cady was doing it for them, to listen in on Regina’s secrets and relay them back to her friends so they could laugh at the pathetic and superficial nature of it all. And sure, that was the main reason she was sitting with the girls. But Cady also returned to the table so she could bask in a new light, Y/n. 
But living in girl world came with a bunch of rules.
“You can’t wear a tank top two days in a row, and you can only wear your hair in a ponytail once a week. So…” Gretchen laughed lightly, seeming a little nervous for no reason as she looked at Cady, who was wearing her hair in a ponytail. “I guess you picked today. Oh! And we only wear jeans or track pants on Fridays.”
“Which totally blows in the winter,” Y/n muttered before sipping her Diet Coke.
“Now,” Gretchen started again, “if you break any of these rules, you can’t sit with us at lunch.” Cady seemed surprised, but Gretchen continued. “Not just you! Like, any of us. Okay, so, like, if I was wearing jeans today, I would be sitting over there with the art freaks.” She said it with a grimace, pointing over to a table a few feet away from the girls before looking back at Cady. “Oh, and we always vote before we ask someone to eat lunch with us, because you have to be considerate of the rest of the group. I mean, you wouldn’t buy a skirt without asking your friends first if it looks good on you.”
Everyone nodded except for Cady, who was processing all of these new rules she had to follow.
“I wouldn’t?”
“Right,” Gretchen said with a definitive nod. “And it’s the same with guys. Like, you may think you like someone, but you could be wrong.”
“One hundred twenty calories and forty-eight calories from fat,” Regina interrupted, reading a food bar that she had grabbed. She looked at her friends inquisitively. What percent is that?”
“Uh… forty-eight into one hundred and twenty?” Gretchen suggested, not really sure of herself.
“No, I don’t think so, Gretch,” Y/n said, trying to think of the correct answer.
“I’m only eating foods with less than thirty percent calories from fat.”
“It’s forty percent,” Cady said suddenly, proud that she was able to do the equation in her head. Everyone looked at her, expressions varying from impressed to confused. Cady suddenly felt the need to show her work. “Well, forty-eight over a hundred and twenty equals X over a hundred-”
“So then you cross multiply to get X!” Y/n finished off with a grin, thrilled that she knew what Cady was talking about. Cady smiled back at her with the same excited energy, although looking a little more subdued. Not only was this girl super pretty and friendly, but she also seemed decently smart. Maybe Janis was wrong about these girls.
“Whatever.” Regina looked at the two girls suspiciously. She tossed the food bar onto the table and stood up. “I’m getting cheese fries. Y/n, come with me.”
Taken back by the sudden command, Y/n stumbled out of her seat and followed Regina. Cady’s eyes followed her until she was out of sight, and she sighed quietly when she couldn’t catch a glimpse of the girl anymore. 
“So!” Gretchen startled Cady with her enthusiastic voice and a hand on her shoulder. As she turned to look at her, Cady realized that Karen was also gone from the table. She must’ve gone to the bathroom or somewhere else. “Have you seen anyone you think is cute yet?”
Cady didn’t know how to answer. There was definitely one person that came to mind, but she didn’t know if she should say the name. Gretchen might react badly if Cady told her, which would most likely lead to her getting kicked out of the Plastics.
But at the same time, she didn’t want to lie. 
“Well… there’s this one.. girl.” The last word was quiet and hesitant, but Gretchen picked up on it.
“Oh my gosh, who is it?” She asked excitedly. “Do you think it’s just like, a phase, or is it more serious?”
“I dunno.” Cady shrugged. “I haven’t known her too long to be sure.”
“Who is it?” Gretchen leaned forward in her seat, completely invested in Cady’s answer. It took the redhead a long moment of hesitancy to open her mouth.
“It’s Y/n…”
“No!” Gretchen straightened up, looking absolutely horrified. She looked around, ensuring none of the other girls were back yet. “You can’t like Y/n. Not only is she a part of the group, but… Okay, you didn’t hear this from me, and you’re, like, totally forbidden from ever bringing it up. But Regina is really possessive over Y/n. They’ve been best friends for, like, forever, and Regina chases off anyone who tries to so much as ask her out. And it’s not my place to say whether or not it’s more than friendship, but if I had to say something, there’s definitely something going on between them.” Gretchen took a much-needed breath, shaking her head slightly to clear her jumbled thoughts. “Look, the point is, you shouldn’t date friends. Especially Regina’s friends. But don’t worry, I’ll never tell Regina or Y/n what you said. It’ll be our little secret.”
Gretchen gave Cady a sweet smile, and that seemed to be the end of their little conversation. But for the next few days, Cady kept thinking about it.
She didn’t want to get on Regina’s bad side. That would mean no more things to tell Janis and Damian and no more seeing Y/n. And she also didn’t want to freak Y/n out. But just because Cady wasn’t allowed to like Y/n didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to look at her. Or think about her. Or talk to her.
A few days later, when Cady was with Janis and Damian at the mall, Janis asked when Cady would see Regina next. She said it felt weird to spy on her and that she didn’t want to do it anymore. And sure, it being weird was part of why she wanted to stop. But mainly, it was because Cady had started getting so distracted by Y/n that it was difficult to focus on Regina. Which was strange, because the blonde girl was so alluring. But Janis reassured Cady that Regina would never find out about her double agent status, that it would be their little secret.
So many secrets.
***
“Hello?” Cady held the phone up to her ear, wondering who was calling her at this late hour.
“I know your secret.” Cady stiffened at Regina’s voice coming through the speaker. She internally panicked, trying to figure out what to do. How did Regina figure out about Cady’s spying?
“Secret?” She decided that playing it cool was the better move. “What secret?”
“Gretchen told me that you like Y/n.” Cady relaxed at the fact that Regina had learned about her other secret, before freezing again. Right now, she wondered if it would be better if Regina knew about the spying. “I mean, I don’t care, do whatever you want.” Regina didn’t sound like she didn’t care, but Cady didn’t bring it up. “But let me just tell you something about Y/n: She’s, like, never gone on a date before. It’s not that she’s not pretty or anything, but no one’s ever really been good enough for her.”
“Oh?” What did this mean? Did Regina deem Cady good enough for Y/n after so many others tried and failed? Or was this a set-up?
Honestly, Cady was so happy for Regina’s blessing that she didn’t really care.
“I could talk to her for you, if you want.”
“Really? You would do that?”
“We’ve been friends since like, pretty much birth. I know exactly how to play it.” There was a moment of silence, and Cady could picture Regina picking at her nails. “But wait. Aren’t you mad at Gretchen for telling me? Because if you are, you can tell me. It was a really bitchy thing for her to do.”
“Yeah, it was pretty bitchy, but I’m not mad.” Cady was a little mad, but she didn’t feel like saying that. “I mean, it’s better she told you instead of Y/n. I dunno, I guess she just likes the attention.” Cady didn’t know why she said that last part, but it had just spilled out of her mouth.
“See, Gretch? I told you she’s not mad at you.” Cady was a bit confused, but then another voice spoke.
“I can’t believe you think I like attention!” There was a click, and Cady assumed the Gretchen had hung up. She had no idea she was even listening.
“Okay, love you. See you tomorrow!” Cady could hear Regina’s smile, and then there was another click followed by a dial tone, showing that Cady was now the only one on the line. She then hung up herself, processing the three-way call she had just survived.
And then after that, Cady realized that she had gotten Regina’s blessing to try to pursue Y/n.
***
“What day is it?” Y/n asked, looking down at her worksheet. She didn’t usually do homework at lunch, but lately, some of her classes had been kicking her ass. 
“It’s October third,” Cady answered almost immediately, catching the suspicious eyes of Regina and Gretchen.
“Thanks, Cady,” Y/n said, looking up at the girl and giving her a sweet smile before returning to her paper.
“I dunno why you don’t just ask one of the Mathlete dorks to do it for you,” Regina said, looking over Y/n’s shoulder. “They’d probably even do it for free.”
“We’ve talked about this, Regina. If my teacher didn’t catch on, it would still totally bite me in the ass when I’d have to do a test all by myself.”
“You need help with math?” Cady asked, subtly leaning closer to Y/n. The girl looked at Cady, now completely distracted from her work.
“Yeah! I used to get it, but trig is crazy hard.” Y/n sighed, delicately rubbing at her tired eyes so she didn’t mess up her makeup. “I feel like I’m never gonna get it.”
“I can help you!” Cady said, excited over this opportunity. She had always excelled in mathematics, and now Y/n needs help with that exact subject? It seemed like fate.
“Really?” Both Y/n and Cady missed the slight glare that Regina was giving them. 
“Oh right, Cady’s like, a total nerd.” They also chose to ignore Regina’s snide comment before sipping her Diet Coke.
“That would be amazing, Cady! Maybe I could come over after school today or something?”
Cady was about to say yes, a million times yes, but Regina butted in.
“Y/n, you’re coming over to my house today.” It didn’t really feel like Regina was reminding her of forgotten plans. Instead, it sounded like Regina was coming up with a reason for Y/n to be unavailable. Cady’s suspicions were confirmed by the confused look Y/n gave the blonde.
“I am?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh… Well, how about tomorrow?”
“Perfect!” Cady spoke quickly and enthusiastically before Regina could say another word.
***
Over the next month or so, Cady tutored Y/n a few days every week. It quickly became their favorite part of their days. After helping with a few problems Y/n was stuck on, the two girls would get distracted by conversations about whatever they wanted to talk about. Neither of them felt the need to filter themselves in fear of being made fun of by one of the other Plastics, mainly Regina. Topics ranged from the latest gossip to future plans to their favorite things in media. If Cady had never heard of something Y/n brought up, which was the case nine times out of ten, the tutoring session would turn into a movie night or music party.
“Oh my gosh, so…” Y/n and Cady were in the middle of watching a chick flick that Cady had never seen when Y/n suddenly spoke. “I’m having a Halloween party at my place. We usually do it at Regina’s, but for some reason, she didn’t feel like doing it this year. Are you gonna come?” 
“Yeah, sure.” Cady’s response made Y/n smile brightly, a sight that Cady could never get sick of.
“Awesome!” Y/n sat up from her slouched position, her excitement waking her up from her slightly tired state. “It’s a costume party, which’ll be a lot of fun. I can give you a flier with all the info tomorrow. Even though I know you’re invited, you need the flier to get in. It only admits one person, so don’t bring anyone else with you.”
“Grool.” Y/n blinked in slight confusion, and Cady realized what she had said. “I… I meant to say ‘cool,’ and then I started to say ‘great.’”
Y/n giggled, which made Cady’s cheeks heat up.
“Right. Well, grool.” The two laughed, and then Y/n looked down at her watch. “Oh my gosh, it’s so late. I should probably get going.” With the help of Cady, Y/n gathered her things. “See you tomorrow!” In a flash, Y/n kissed Cady’s cheek before walking out of the room and leaving Cady’s house. Cady’s cheeks felt like they were on fire, and she lightly touched the cheek Y/n had kissed.
***
One thing that no one told Cady was that on Halloween, many girls opted for very revealing costumes rather than actual costumes. So when she arrived at Y/n’s house, she stuck out like a sore thumb in her dead bride attire while her friends wore tight clothes and animal ears.
“Why are you so scary?” Gretchen asked with concern, looking at Cady’s appearance with wide eyes.
“It’s Halloween,” Cady said with a shrug, not knowing what the problem was.
Suddenly, a hand touched Cady’s arm, making her jump. But she quickly relaxed when she saw who was touching her.
“You came!” Y/n squealed, bringing Cady in for a hug. The redhead felt a bit flustered by the contact, plus seeing Y/n in her slightly revealing outfit. When they broke the embrace, Y/n held Cady by the shoulders, surveying her outfit. “And you’re a… zombie bride…?”
“An ‘ex-wife.’” Cady replied, using her fingers to air quote.
“Well, I love it.” Y/n finally let go of Cady, although she wouldn’t have been opposed if she kept holding onto her. “You want something to drink?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll be right back.” 
Y/n squeezed Cady’s arm for a quick moment before turning around. She weaved her way through the crowd to get to the kitchen, where a shit load of different drinks were scattered on the counters. She started mixing a drink for Cady when she felt a presence behind her.
“What the hell is Cady wearing?” Regina asked, squinting to see Cady from across the room.
“She’s a zombie bride!”
“She looks like a freak.”
“Regina!” Y/n set down the bottle she was pouring and looked at the blonde. “Be nice.”
“Whatever.” Regina rolled her eyes, pushing her hair off her shoulder before leaning on the kitchen counter. “You know, you should probably be careful around her. She has a giant crush on you.”
“What?” Y/n’s eyes snapped to Regina, immediately curious. “How do you know?”
“She told me. She tells everybody. It’s kinda cute, to be honest. She’s like a little girl.” Regina laughed, and Y/n tilted her head and raised her brows, silently asking for more details. “Like, she writes ‘Y/n plus Cady’ and stuff like that all over her notebook. And she made this shirt that says ‘I heart Y/n’ and she wears it under all of her clothes.
“Oh, come on.” Y/n sighed and rolled her eyes, figuring Regina had been joking. “That’s not funny, Regina.”
“I’m serious! She’s, like, obsessed with you. And who can blame her?” Regina’s hand reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair away from Y/n’s face. When Y/n looked at her friend, she was suddenly closer than before. “I mean, you’re gorgeous.”
“Regina.”
“If I’m being honest… I hate the way she looks at you.” Regina grabbed Y/n’s chin before she could look away, forcing them to maintain eye contact. “It makes me sick. She should know better than to think she has a chance with you.”
“What are you saying, Regina?” Y/n’s voice was barely a whisper, but the blonde heard her loud and clear despite being in a crowded room with blasting music and semi-drunk teenagers.
“I’m saying you’re mine, Y/n.” With every word, Regina inched closer and closer. “I don’t want you to be with Cady. Or with anyone else.” 
Regina closed the small gap between her and Y/n’s lips, wrapping her arms around Y/n’s body to keep her close. After the wave of shock washed over her, Y/n reciprocated the kiss. Neither of them cared about any of the people around them watching. Including Cady, who watched from across the room with watery eyes and a breaking heart. 
Cady had lost Y/n to a competition she didn’t even know she had. Y/n had finally gotten the girl she had been wanting for years after being kept at arm’s length away. And Regina had once again ruined someone else’s happiness for her own.
***
Regina George Taglist: @wedfan2 @pyro-les @natashamaximoff-69
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ririblogsss · 1 day
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Danny the park crazy guy
Ok this follows Danny with him deciding he needs to get out of Amity Park cause he's parents are getting more and more obsessed with catching Phantom. And the plans he'd over heard were sending him into panic attacks. Not only that a new management was placed for the GIW, and with that they had become more brutal and accurate with their capturing. Danny couldn't make sure ghosts were safe and protect civilians, so Danny made a deal with Technus in exchange for most of the tech Danny has made in the past 6 months Technus has to hack into the portals that his parents and Vlad owned and permanently destroy them. Technus also made sure to wipe all the information on how to re-build the portal and planted a bug that will corrupt any file trying to mimic the portals code/mechanics. 
At first Dannys plan was to play the part of the defenseless boy who just witnessed his parents whole life work go down the drain, and pretend that ghost never happened. He's parents were sad (understatement of the century) but they soon found something to hyper focus on, before becoming ecto-biologist, they were trying to find ways to make liquid that would dissolve plastic in a non-lethal and non-toxic way. So after 2 months of not doing anything and only staying in bed eating ice-cream and fudge its like a light bulb turned on onto of their heads, and Madeline and Jack went back to their old selves. They still had moments were they would gaze back at their projects with heartbroken eyes, and Danny could help but blame himself for his parents suffering. 
Its like one day everything was close to normality (as normal as amity park could be) people weren't mentioning ghost in fear that one would appear out of spite. Classes went uninterrupted people were actually happy for that. 
But then the GIW started making moves, as they were getting more and more restless with no ghost sightings in the last 6 months. 
Then 3 months ago everything went to shit......
Danny could only explain it as if the Salem witch trials had started. But instead it was the 21st century and people were being accused of being / cooperating / aiding ghosts. The GIW had stormed into the town hall and had claimed that Amity park was in full quarantine. No one in no one out. Vlad was taken in for 'investigation' accused of working with the ghost because he never helped the GIW or offered funds, hence committing treason the US government. 
After that People would be taken out of their homes and obligated to take tests to prove they weren't with the enemy, if they passed they went back to their homes traumatized. if they failed.... Well no one really knows, but one might guess from all the screaming. 
Ironically. Dannys parents were the fist accused of cooperating with the enemy. The GIW stated that they seemed suspicious from the start as they never truly caught anything. he hadn't seen them since they were drugged and stuffed into the back of a van. Danny was thankful that Jazz (for collage) and Dani (traveling in Bangladesh) were out of Amity, but it wasn't like he could contact them and tell them what was happening. 
The GIW had cut all contact to the rest of the word from Amity Park probably because what they were doing was considered illegal and definitely were crossing human rights. 
Luckily Sams and Tuckers family were able to come to an agreement with the GIW so they could be exempted from the quarentine (buy themselves a way out). Unluckily Danny like most families didn't have those types of resources. 
But Danny isn't a Fenton for nothing, craziness, gull and genius ran through his veins. So every morning when they were obligated out of their homes and made to sit on the grass of the park square while the agents searched for any 'evidence' in their homes. Danny would use his core to emit a frequency that only other ghost and some metas could hear. But that wasn't what Danny was communicating to no. 
He was sending commands to all the animals he had befriended the last 15 years of his life. You see ever since Danny was a kid he loved how one could be able to domesticate any animal as long as you had food. So Danny when he was a kid applied The Operant conditioning to all the animals he crossed paths with. 
A few weeks after his accident (death) when Danny was making his daily feeding times for the animals in exchange for trinkets and money he realized something. He could understand what the animals 'spoke' and the animals could understand him through the vibrations of his core. When he asked CW about it he only told him that ghost speak allowed him to communicate with anything and anyone if he had a close enough relationship towards them. 
Basically this meant that Danny had hundreds if not thousands of animals (rats, street dogs and cats, pigeons, squirrels ect.. ) at his disposal. The only reason he never used them when fighting Ghosts was obvious he wasn't going to risk the life of his friends. 
And right now his friends were making underground escape routes for all of the Amity Parkers. The plan was already being set in motion. Everyone knew their part. 
One group would be distraction, a group of kids would scream and point in the opposite direction of the escape route and say they had seen a ghost and it was trying to hurt them. The GIW would be guided into a wooded area were they would be attacked by the more predatorial animals. Making them call for back up. 
One group would composed of the most athletic adults / young adults would go into the main base of the GIW (check for survivors and help them get out). 
Another group (the elderly) was in charge of checking that everyone was accounted for. 
Mothers, would be evacuated first with their children, they would be the get away drivers. Different drivers would take different routs. Some left the country other the continent itself. Some when to larger cities for hiding amongst the crowd. But the main goal was stick to your family and preferably if you can go alone. The less people the less likely you are to getting caught. 
And the teenagers from casper high, would ensure all their traces were lost making sure all phones and gadgets were left behind, as to avoid getting tracked down. 
And that's how Amity Park became a dead town (pun intended) in less than 60 minutes. 
This leads us to the present. 
It had been 7 months since Danny had left Amity park. he hadn't seen anyone or contacted anyone from there since. The over all consensus was that everyone had to go no contact with one another as to not raise awareness as to why so many people from different places were constantly calling one another. Danny was certain that Jazz and Dani had been contacted by Sam and Tucker about the situation in Amity. What he wasn't sure of is if they knew he was out of Amity or even alive for that matter. 
Danny was not dealing with what happened well. One of the guys who went into the Town Hall pulled him a aside for a second when they were evacuating to tell him. That he had seen both his parents bodies. They had not survived. Not many who were taken against their will into the Hall came out spared. 
Danny was devastated with his parent untimely death, he only hoped they had a humane one. 
So no Danny was not ok. he knew Jazz would criticize his copping methods. But if taking over a park in the middle of a crime riddled city was sooooo bad then why did he have the support of the Bats. (not the vigilantes the actual cave bats). 
Danny had gotten to Gotham not too long ago (about 4 1/2) months, and decided that the GIW wouldn't dare on their life go into a city were the 'wolds greatest detective and most feared man live'. Danny made an abandoned building overlooking the park his own. he quickly became allies with the fauna there and soon his rein over the part began. 
---
It started slowly, honest to god not a single local though anything of the bony kid laughing his ass off as he oversaw birds and other critters alike help him build what looked like a greenhouse. They did what any Gothamite would do mind their own damn business and go on with their day. 
It wasn't unlit the trees and torn plants started to build a wall like structure around the park that they started to think that the kid was going to be the next Poison Ivy. Worst of all they some have speculated seeing Pamela and Harley go in and out of the park... both smiling like proud parents. Some say that the kid was an ex Wayne kid that was sent into an asylum, and was kept quiet. Some speculate that the kids a meta that controls all animals. Some state they saw the kid talk to the animals and the animals actually listened and did word for word what he asked. 
But Gothamites weren't that worried if they were honest. The kid (Danny as he was now known) brought more entertainment (of the good kind) to Gotham he fit right in. The only thing that made him stand out was his mid-western accent. When asked where he was from he would only stare at you while an animal (different every time mostly racoons) would chase you away. Other than that the kid was a sweetheart he would often bring the veggies and fruits he cultivates in the park to homeless shelters so that the residents would have a 'more nutritious and full diet'. 
The kid would send animals to keep watch on kids and be alerted if any were at risk he would drop in and help in a very unusual way. And he always traded money for little things and bottle caps anything handmade (especially by kids) was infinitely rewarded with money and an automatic meal. 
Danny was known as the Gotham parks crazy. But he was their crazy and no government (illegal) agency of a brigade of bats and birds was going to take him away from them. 
(waaa this was way longer that expected I only wanted to write a sentence of local crazy Danny, and I just ended up writting mostly art other stuff)
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janaispunk · 1 day
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no one has to know what we do
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chapter 2 • series masterlist
pairing: Dave York x f!reader
summary: Try as you might, Dave and you can’t stay away from each other.
word count: 4.4k
tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad sucks), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that Dave pulls, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, unprotected p in v, fingering, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, spanking, sooooo many pussy slaps (don’t look at us), pet names, let me know if anything is missing!
a/n: co-written with my love @joelscurls, who unfortunately couldn’t write this entire chapter the way we had originally planned, so you’re stuck with me again. if you notice that some parts are better written than others, those are most likely hers haha <3 this is lowkey my favorite thing that i’ve ever put out, and i hope you like it as much as i do 🤍
follow @joelscurlsupdates and @janaispunknotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)
dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍
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The phone feels like a paperweight in your hand. It’s late — you should be sleeping, but you know it’s useless to even attempt shutting your eyes. It’s too loud in your head right now — that promise of just one time blaring: a warning. Still, you can’t help but consider ignoring it, texting David and begging to see him again.
It’s probably a bit pathetic, yearning for a man who made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you beyond a one night stand. Daydreaming about the timbre of his voice, the stretch of his cock. Getting his phone number from your father, who’s none the wiser. Your father, who is asleep in his own room just down the hall. Being home for the summer has never felt like such a burden.
Guilt eats at you as your fingers hover over the screen, David’s contact front and center. It would be so easy to send him a text right now, let him know you’re thinking about him. About the other night. But your conscience reins you in. Your father’s face flashes behind your eyes — rage and disappointment painting his features scarlet, and you drop the phone beside you on the mattress with a huff.
It’s difficult to even imagine the inevitable severity of his reaction if he ever found out. He’d probably cut you off, the revelation of you whoring around with his friend — and the possibility of this news getting out, tarnishing your family’s pure reputation — more than enough for him to disown you.
You hate him sometimes. Hate the life he’s forced onto you. You’re not even interested in studying law — not really. You never had a choice, though. It was determined before you even graduated high school that you’d follow in your dad’s footsteps. And as long as he’s funding your studies, your future, you have no right to complain. This is the life you should want. The life everyone wants. He reminds you of that fact regularly. Him, and his countless snooty club buddies.
But David — David is refreshing.
He doesn’t come from old money. He doesn’t pinch your cheeks and talk around you rather than to you, declarations of you must be so proud aimed at your father as you stand awkwardly to the side. You’re pretty sure he’s the first person outside of your professors to really look at you, take interest in anything you have to say in… god knows how long.
You can still feel his eyes boring into you. The subtle but tactful brush of his leg against yours under the table. The exhilaration that had thrummed in your veins. He’d made you feel something. You’d almost forgotten you could feel anything apart from stress and agitation. And as you lay in bed, mind swimming with arousal and impending remorse, you fear you may not be able to control yourself much longer, consequences be damned.
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He’s not expecting you to reach out.
Why would you? You’d mutually agreed on that night in his car being a one time thing — just a hookup; something he would’ve done before meeting Carol. Something he should probably be doing more often now. Except you’ve somehow sunk your teeth in him, injected him with a sort of venom.
Because all he can think about is seeing you again.
It’s wrong — beyond wrong. You’re so young; still in college, for christ sake. He never met you before the other night, but he’d been stationed overseas with your father when your mother was pregnant with you. He still remembers reading the letters she’d sent in care packages over his shoulder, the ones detailing her symptoms, what foods she was craving.
Strawberries. She always wanted strawberries. Maybe that’s why you’re so sweet.
He’s never been with a woman like you; never had someone trust him with so much vigor. Your needy little pleas, your vehement obedience, your desperation to take all of him in the driver’s seat of his car — you are nothing short of intoxicating.
Still, he tells himself you’re off limits. Trudges through the days that follow with the thought of you bouncing in his lap fogging his head. Struggles to focus at work and recovers in an increasingly poor manner when called on in meetings.
And then, late on a Friday night, you text him.
He only knows it’s you because you tell him so — your full name flashing across the screen followed by an apology for messaging him so late. You say you’re out with friends, and he’d probably have guessed anyway by the typos littering your sentences.
Seconds after the first, another text comes through:
[1:23am] csnt stop thinking about u. pls see me again i promise i won’t twll anyone
Fuck. Fuck.
His muscles tense; his cock twitches in his boxers. And before he does something stupid, like responds, he sets the phone face down on his bedside table. Stalks off to the bathroom with the intention of taking an icy-cold shower, detoxing himself best he can.
He hasn’t even closed the door yet when he hears it ring.
The rhythmic jingle drones through his studio apartment, and he all but leaps at the noise. Sure enough, it's you, calling him drunk in the middle of the night.
His head swims. He presses ‘answer’ anyway.
“David?” Your voice sounds so sugary-sweet, cloying with innocence. He can hear people in the background, maybe your friends, talking about getting another round of drinks.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asks first. You tell him yes; say you're waiting on a rideshare.
He exhales. And even though hearing you is making him dizzy with a fucked up sort of desire, echoes of your pleasured sounds ringing in his ears, he manages to maintain composure when you say, “can I please come over?”
“Don't think that's the best idea,” he mutters. The lack of conviction in his words would likely be painfully obvious if you weren't intoxicated. But you are, and you whine through the receiver at his rejection.
Dave fights to ignore the increasing stiffness in his boxers.
“Please,” you beg. Fuck, he loves the way you sound when you beg. “I just got off the phone with my dad…he doesn't want me coming home so drunk; said he's working on a case and I’ll be a nuisance.”
His heart breaks for you. For the girl who just wants a father who loves her, who sees her as a person with feelings. Dave can't imagine ever treating his daughters this way. Would never dream of it.
“C-can I?” your voice sounds through the speaker again — softer, less sure. Like you've prepared yourself already for the blow of him rejecting you too.
“Can't– can’t you stay with one of your friends?”
You sigh, defeated. “I want to stay with you.”
It’s not that he doesn’t want to. God, it would be so easy to say yes. To go and pick you up from the bar himself, bring you back to his place. Help you sober up a bit and fuck you until you can't take it anymore. But he can’t; he shouldn't even be speaking to you right now. He needs to cut this off. Needs to make it clear to you that you can't reach out to him again.
“You– we can’t.” He’s stern, direct. It pains him. “The other night shouldn’t have happened.” True, though he doesn’t regret it. Not one bit.
You’re quiet on the other end of the line for a second too long. When you finally do speak again, your voice breaks.
“You don’t like me?”
He’s going to tell you that of course that’s not it, that he’s been thinking about you constantly, that he wishes he could get you out of his fucking head. But he doesn’t get the chance. Because your friends are laughing boisterously around you, then, sounds growing more and more muffled through the speaker, and you’re telling him rather unceremoniously that you have to go.
The call disconnects with a beep.
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You wake the following morning with a dizzying headache, daylight burning a hole between your eyes. With your friend still soundly asleep, you slip out of her room and then her apartment; find yourself home just as your father is getting ready to leave for work.
His travel mug sits on the entrance table as he pulls his shoes on, and you're immediately met with the smells of coffee and his leathery cologne.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” he mutters as he grabs his briefcase. You don't dare look him in the eyes, lest you be met with their disapproving stare.
“Hi,” you reply, small and non confrontational. When he doesn't answer, you continue past him, begin your ascent up the stairs toward your room.
“Not very appropriate for a young professional, going out and getting wasted. Your future employer could've been there. Could've seen you acting like an imbecile.”
Annoyance furls behind your temples; makes the pounding in your head grow tenfold.
“Well then they probably won't be my future employer,” you snip.
“Probably not.”
You hear the front door close behind you and, with an agitated sigh, drag your feet the rest of the way up the stairs. You fall onto the covers of your bed, well aware that you should probably shower, but your body feels too heavy, in no way ready to move again just yet.
When you pull out your phone, ready for some mindless scrolling to numb your thoughts for a while, you’re met with a notification that sends your heart racing.
Have fun last night?
From David, sent five minutes ago.
You hastily scroll up, reading your own texts from last night, full of typos and barely coherent. csnt stop thinking about u. Your head falls back with a groan. You had gone out to forget about him, not to drunkenly confess your feelings to him in the middle of the night.
Now that you’re thinking about it, you also vaguely recall speaking to him. You tap on your call log and sure enough, there’s his name, only minutes after you texted him. You have no idea what you might have said to him, only a blurry memory of being upset about something. Great, this is great.
Sighing deeply, you go back to messages.
i was very drunk. sorry for bothering you
His reply comes almost instantly.
Who said you bothered me?
You’ve only met him once, and yet you can picture his smirk as if you’ve seen it a thousand times.
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Dave is sipping his coffee, black, no sugar, and listens to Jim going over his plans for the both of them going golfing next weekend, humming occasionally.
It pains him, looking at the man in front of him, while your voice from last night is still ringing through his head. How hurt you sounded, looking for a place to stay, not being welcome in your own home.
When Jim stands up to leave for work, he remains seated, gesturing towards his half eaten bagel, but assuring the other man that he doesn’t have to wait for him.
You still haven’t left his thoughts. If anything, the longing he feels for you has gotten worse since you told him how much you want to see him again. And he’s so tired of denying himself the one thing he really wants.
He’s patient, chipping away at the bagel until he sees your father’s gray Dodge peel out of the parking lot. And then he gives it another 10 minutes, just to be safe.
Come join me for coffee? I’m downtown at Roasted Beans.
You respond moments later — such an obedient little thing, you are — letting him know you’ll be there shortly. He finishes off his drink, discards the cup along with the bagel wrapper, and orders two fresh coffees.
He sees you before you see him. Eyes wide, lips parted ever so slightly, you look so cute as you scan the cafe. You’re wearing a sundress, the blue fabric dancing around your thighs with every turn of your body, and Dave finds himself entranced by you.
You smile when you finally catch sight of him, your entire face lighting up and he smiles back without a second thought.
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You shouldn’t meet him again. You really, really shouldn’t. But the conversation with your father this morning keeps replaying in your head, the disapproval weighing heavy on you, the feeling of being unable to do anything right.
You long for someone to look at you without judgment, for the sound of good girl against your skin. You long for David.
After last night and the fact that he obviously didn’t invite you over, you had thought that for him, maybe it really had been a just one time thing. Like you both had agreed on multiple times.
But then he’d texted you again, asking you to meet him. It’s almost embarrassing, how quickly you got ready, eager to see him again, despite knowing better.
On the drive over, you run through countless discussions in your head, trying to decide what you’re going to say to him. You have to be reasonable. There’s too much at stake. David is a mistake that you wouldn’t be able to come back from. You’re just going to meet him because he asked you to, because that’s the nice thing to do. It’ll just be coffee, nothing more.
Your resolve crumbles as soon as you see him. His eyes are already on you, their expression so full of want that it makes you ache. You walk over, feigning confidence as you slide onto the chair next to his, a quiet greeting on your lips. The deep, smooth sound of his voice when he returns it is enough to make you melt.
He has already ordered for you. It’s a small thing, rationally, but it’s once again more care, more attention than you’re used to. Warmth is spreading through your chest, but you try steeling yourself, forcing out the words that you’ve prepared to say.
“Listen, I want to apologize about last night. I shouldn’t have– I wasn’t thinking straight, I’m sorry for bothering–”
“Hey, sweetheart.” He interrupts your nervous stuttering, his hand gently wrapping around yours on the table. “I already told you that you didn’t bother me. If anything–” He sighs, his grip tightening. “I’m the one who’s sorry, you were looking for somewhere to stay, I shouldn’t have turned you down like that.”
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It breaks Dave’s heart, seeing how you’re making yourself smaller, how ready you seem for him to scold you. Your quiet You don’t like me? still echoes in his mind. How your own father didn’t care where his daughter spent the night, as long as she didn’t come home. Didn’t bother him.
He clocked the way your eyes widened in surprise at the coffee that he got you, how you huff a relieved breath when he assures you again that he’s not annoyed with you. You’re so sweet, so deserving of being loved and cared for, and he so desperately wants to be the person who does that for you.
He felt the same pull from that night towards you as soon as he laid eyes on you again, and it’s only gotten worse, now that you’re right next to him, now that he’s touching the soft surface of your hand. He vividly remembers how your skin felt under his fingertips, how you writhed against him.
The urge to get just a taste of that again becomes overwhelming. He holds your gaze as his fingers start gliding over your thighs under the table, inching towards the hem of your dress. Your lips part, the softest whimper escaping your throat at his touch.
He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t be touching you like this, shouldn’t be thinking about you like this. Can’t stop thinking about you. I want to stay with you. How is he supposed to keep away, to stop himself, when you come to him so willingly, so desperate to be wanted?
“David?” Fuck, he loves that you call him that. “Will you take me home with you? Please?”
He can tell that you’re scared to ask, bracing yourself to be rejected again. He’s not nearly as strong as you think he is.
“Yes. Come on.”
He pulls you to your feet and out of the door before either of you have the chance to change your minds.
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He’s a bad man, shouldn’t be getting off on having total control over you like this. He’s probably sick; should see that shrink Carol recommended a couple months ago after the divorce was officially finalized. But the way you’re looking at him — with the same big-eyed, doleful stare you’d given him that first night — tells him you want this. Need this, even. You long to relinquish control to someone other than your hawkish father.
So pliant in his lap, limbs all gooey and relaxed under his touch, it’s clear that you trust him. Maybe more than he trusts himself.
You’re spread out on his couch, clothes hastily discarded as soon as the both of you stumbled over the threshold, already entangled in each other. He’s led you to the living room, the thought of fucking you in his bed, of your presence lingering there, your scent permeating his sheets, the last invisible line that he’s determined not to cross.
He has been toying with your body, collected your wrists in a hold over your head and told you to keep them there while he flicked and tugged on your nipples, sucked marks into your skin while you writhed underneath him.
He’s taking it slow, now that you’re here with him, now that he has the time to thoroughly break you down and put you back together again.
You’re already soaked when he sinks a finger into you, your tight walls clenching around him immediately. You coo up at him — a needy little noise that has his resolve disintegrating in seconds flat — and you look relieved when his hand loosely wraps around your throat.
“Please,” you whisper then, and he tuts.
“You want me to take care of you?”
You nod.
“Then you take what I give you. No begging. Do I make myself clear?”
Another noise — this one smaller, stuck in your throat — and he’s pulling his finger out of you again, lips curling into a cruel smile.
He doesn’t give you any time to prepare before the first slap lands on your already-throbbing clit. You can’t help but shriek. In response, he tightens the grip on your throat slightly. Gives three more stinging smacks in quick succession. Dave almost doesn’t notice when your eyes begin to roll back. He does notice, however, when your hips begin to roll upward, your body chasing his hand.
“Oh, such a good girl you are,” he praises.
Slap.
“You love this, don’t you?”
“Mhm,” you moan, garbled and a little breathless.
Slap.
“Pathetic little girl. Bet you could come just from this, you’re so desperate. Couldn’t you?”
You gasp.
Slap.
“Answer me,” Dave demands. “Or I’ll stop.”
It’s almost comical how quickly you sputter the word yes, eyes desperately pleading with him to keep going. And he’s almost shocked just how badly you needed this. In this moment, any guilt he’d been feeling is replaced with the desperate desire to give you exactly what you crave.
He slaps you again, a little harder this time, and you wail. Your legs are trembling, but you make no move to close them, keeping yourself spread wide open and accessible for him.
He’s throbbing, fighting the urge to sink his cock into your tight heat, but he wants, needs to know how far he can push you. How far you’ll go for him.
You’re dripping onto his cushions and he collects some of your slick with his fingers, rubs them against your clit. Your skin is burning under his fingertips. He teases the oversensitive nub with gentle touches, relishes in the way your eyes are glued to his face, the way your lips are trembling as you’re silently pleading with him.
No words are escaping you, and you’re so good, making him so proud with how you’re following his commands.
He slaps your clit again, and again, and again, until you’re a babbling mess, your throat constricting against his grip and your back arching as you come with a cry. Wetness floods out of you and you’re shuddering in his hold, broken whimpers of his name falling from your lips.
He watches with sick fascination, almost unable to believe that he drove you to this point. How much you enjoy being treated like this. That you’re just as twisted as he is.
When you come down, your arms weakly reach for him and he scoops you up, pulls you into his lap until your face is nuzzled into his neck.
“Good girl,” he coos, gently stroking your hair, “you did so good.”
He gives you a few moments to rest, tracing shapes across your back, until his fingers dip deeper, gliding over your ass and between your spread legs, where you’re still so fucking wet.
You squirm under his touch, needy little sounds traveling up to his ears once more. “Please,” you whisper.
One hand grabs into your hair, pulling your head back until he can see your face. You look wrecked. Pupils blown wide, your eyes wet with tears, but what really gets him is the way you look at him. He had worried, for a second, that he might have been too rough, but there’s only pure trust and longing in your eyes.
“I thought I told you no begging.”
You bite your lip, furrow your brow in that adorable way of yours. “I’m sorry. It just– it all feels so good.”
He presses his thumb down on your bottom lip, releasing it from your teeth.
“I know it does, sweetheart. You need more?”
You nod quietly, your eyes wide and pleading.
“Alright then.” He turns you over so quickly that you gasp, scrambling for a second to get your bearings. You’re on all fours, your legs still spread, your ass on display for him.
He had wanted to prepare you a little more, to give you several of his fingers first before he stretches you out on his cock, but he can’t possibly hold back any longer. Judging from the loud moan that you let out, he thinks that you like the sting of him sinking into you unprepared.
It’s even better than he remembers, your slick walls engulfing him so tightly. He starts pounding into you, the depth of his thrusts jolting your body forward and forcing more sounds from you.
He wants you to still feel him tomorrow, wants you to remember him, wants to stake a claim that he knows he doesn’t have. He groans your name, his fingers digging into your hips, greedy for every part of you that he can reach.
Perfect, you’re so fucking perfect, giving yourself to him like this.
“Come on,” he growls, reaching down to find your clit again, rubbing in tight circles. “Give me another one.”
You cry out, pushing back against him. So fucking eager. He lands two quick slaps on your ass and you fall apart, trembling wildly as your walls pulse around him and you scream out his name.
He can’t hold himself back any more and follows you over the edge, pumping into you once more and holding your hips pressed against his.
You both collapse down onto his couch, a mess of tangled, sweaty limbs and quick breaths. You curl your body into his and he presses kisses against your cheeks, your temples, your lips.
Slowly, as he’s coming back to his senses, the guilt settles in.
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He lets go of you much too quickly, stands up and starts getting dressed quietly. You watch him for a moment, wracking your mind for something to say, before he looks at you.
“Get dressed. I’ll drive you home.”
He sounds cold, distant. So different from the man who just took you to heights that you didn’t know existed until now. You suppress a shiver and get up hastily. Suddenly, being naked around him feels much too exposed, too vulnerable for your liking.
You pull your dress over your head and slide your shoes back on, but one crucial item is missing.
“Did– did you see my underwear?” you force yourself to ask. He shakes his head, not gracing you with a verbal answer.
Eventually, you give up the search and follow him down the stairs and into his car. The silence grows, until its weight is pressing down, almost suffocating you. You steal glances at him, but his eyes are fixed on the road, staring straight ahead, never wavering. A muscle in his jaw is ticking.
The mix of his spend and yours is pooling between your legs, but it makes you feel dirty now. You force down the lump that’s building in your throat.
When he stops in front of your house, you scramble out of the car without a word. You don’t know what would be worse, if he said goodbye like nothing was wrong or if he remained silent. You don’t want to find out.
It’s late in the evening, you’re lying on your bed, eyelids squeezed shut, willing sleep to finally overtake you. Thoughts keep spiraling through your head, so many questions that you have no answers to.
He asked you to meet up, for fuck’s sake. You don’t understand why he’s treating you like this, but you’re determined to not let it happen again. Just two times, you think with a bitter scoff.
Your phone vibrates on your bedside table, indicating a new message.
[11:55pm] I can’t stop thinking about you either.
Attached is a photo. A photo of a familiar lacy scrap of fabric, grasped in his hand and covered in milky white cum.
It’s filthy, and wrong, and you feel yourself getting obscenely wet at the thought of him touching himself with your missing panties clutched between his fingers.
Maybe just one more time.
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thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!
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ladykailitha · 2 days
Text
The Harrington Pattern Part 13
This is it guys, the chapter of this fic. I have had an absolute blast writing and even more so reading all the comments and tags.
This last chapter is dedicated to all those who wanted the moms to bring Steve into their fold. This was also chance for Steve to rip on the haters without fear of his parents ire.
Thank you so much for all the love and support for this little story.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12
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Claudia was waiting at the Byers’ front door when Eddie pulled up in his van and Steve hopped out.
“Eddie!” she cried happily. “I didn’t know you were coming!”
“Hey, Mrs. H,” Eddie said with a wave. “I’m just dropping Stevie off. We’re hanging out later.”
“That was sweet of you, dear,” Claudia cooed.
Steve in the meantime was pulling things out of the backseat of the van. Eddie looked over at him.
“You need help, darlin’?” he asked over his shoulder.
Steve shook his head. “I’ve got it. Thank you, though.” In lower voice he muttered, “I love you and I’ll see you later.”
Eddie gave Steve’s forearm a squeeze and then waved at Claudia. He backed out of the driveway and was soon gone from sight.
“We’ve got all sorts of surprises for you today, Steve,” she said gleefully clapping her hands together.”
Steve grinned at her. “Mrs. Peterson here yet?”
Claudia shook her head. “She’s always at least fifteen minutes late. Something we were banking on actually.”
Steve cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”
But Claudia just ushered him inside. He set his stuff down and then handed her a tray.
“I made blondies,” he said, “I hope you ladies like them.”
She peeled back the foil and gasped. “Steve they look amazing!”
Joyce came out of the kitchen wiping her hands. “What looks amazing?” she asked peering over Claudia’s shoulder. She, too, gasped when she saw them. “Steve, you didn’t!”
Steve grinned. “Your sons always eat the ones I send home with them before they even get home, so I figured you’d appreciate these.”
She kissed his cheek. “You are a dear.”
Claudia laid them out on table next to all the other treats.
On the coffee table were a bunch of things under a large sheet with clowns on it.
“The three of us,” Karen began, “wanted to do something extra special for you after hearing what fun our children had at the Fair because you made sure they did. So we each contributed something toward your love of sewing.”
She lifted the sheet. Underneath was a beautiful sewing kit in navy blue, a light green Singer sewing machine that looked older than he was, and a stack of old patterns.
Steve’s lip wobbled as he raised his hand to his mouth in shock.
“You didn’t have to do this, ladies,” he whispered.
“The sewing kit is from me,” Karen continued. “It’s a beginner’s kit, but it has fabric scissors, a seam ripper, bobbins for your thread and different kinds of needles.”
Steve sat down and pulled it onto his lap. He opened it and as he lifted the lid, the top tray pulled back revealing the tray beneath. “Thank you.”
“The sewing machine,” Claudia said proudly, “is the first one I ever owned. When I got married I got a new one and I’ve been using that ever since. But this ol’ girl has a lot of love and life left in her, and I want you to have her.”
Steve looked up at her, tears forming in his eyes. “Aren’t you worried that I’ll break it? Or that my parents will find it and destroy it?”
Claudia knelt in front of him. “It’s gonna be kept at my house until you get a place of your own. You’re there all the time to see Dusty anyway, no one is going to notice that you’re there to sew now, too.”
“Plus,” Joyce said with a grin. “It’s a Singer. They’re a little hard to break. They’re one of the best machines and it will probably outlast your children. So don’t worry about it, okay?”
Steve nodded, his lip quivering. Claudia kissed his forehead and stood back up.
“The patterns are from me,” Joyce said. “Whenever I would have a little extra money I would pick up a pattern or two at the drug store and bring it home. I picked a handful that I thought you’d like since you’re primarily making costumes. And if those work for you, next week I’ll bring another handful you might like.”
Tears started flowing down his cheeks. “Thank you. All of you. This is best gift I’ve ever gotten.”
“Oh honey,” Joyce said softly and suddenly Steve was being hugged on all sides by the moms.
They stayed like that until there was a knock on the door.
“That must be Olive,” Claudia said with a sigh. “I bet she brought those brownies that are totally store bought even though she insists it her grandmother’s recipe.”
Steve snickered. “My mom used to do that. I don’t think she fooled anyone either.”
Joyce grinned over her shoulder as she went to go answer the door. “Olive, dear! We were just getting started.”
“Oh?” the bright voice on the other side of the door cooed. “You’re usually in the full swing of things by now.”
Steve bristled. That meant she knew she was late and was doing it intentionally. He hated people like that. Acting like the rest of them were peasants meant to be waiting on her.
“Steve was just showing us the costumes he made for the kids for the Fair over the weekend,” Karen said sweetly as Steve hurried to get the things he brought to show off out.
Olive stepped into the house with a sneer. “I think it’s so sweet you’re indulging the boy, but I doubt he can hold a candle to Claudia’s years of experience.”
Wow, Steve thought. Not only did she insult him, but she insinuated Claudia was old. What was with this old bag?
Claudia smirked. “It’s true that I’ve been doing it for longer, but Steve has a real talent for it. Come see.”
Olive walked into the front room and Steve was struck by how much she reminded him of his mother. She had perfectly curled hair with not a single strand out of place. Her clothes were fitted and showed off her figure. Her makeup was flawless.
In short, Steve hated her on sight.
Joyce handed her the shirt he had made for underneath his tunic. It was flawless but understated.
Olive took the shirt and scoffed. “You couldn’t have done this, Harrington, you shouldn’t lie to your betters.”
Steve was already seeing red. “I guess I’ll just have to prove it to you then.”
Joyce clapped her hands together. “All right, let’s get started. Steve, you can eat as much as you want, but just make sure to keep it away from other people’s projects.”
Steve smiled at her sweetly. “Of course!”
He knew that what she was really saying was that Olive Peterson might try something.
He sat in the armchair away from her and she glared at him.
“Is it all right if I work on my project first before you teach me how to use the sewing machine?” he asked just as she was taking a drink of punch.
Olive was forced to turn away and cough into her hand to avoid spraying everyone with the lemonade that Claudia had made.
Karen’s smile was feral. “I don’t see why that would be a problem, right, Claudia?”
“Of course not, Steve,” she replied warmly. “Just let me know when you want to learn and I’ll come over and help you.”
Steve nodded. He pulled out the materials that Eddie suggested he bring and got to work.
Eddie really liked that Steve’s bags had a lining because it protected the dice better, so Steve had brought along some materials he could use for that as well.
About halfway through his first bag, Joyce called out.
“Steve? What’s that pattern you’re putting on the bag?”
Steve’s eyes lit up. “It’s my signature! I embroider it on everything I do to make sure people can’t pass it off as their own.” He handed the bag over to her.
“Oh!” she cried in excitement. “This is the design you put on Will and El’s costumes when you did their alterations, right?”
Steve nodded. “I hope you don’t mind. I know you made the clothes, but I thought it was a cute way to tie the two together like they were twins.”
“It was perfect,” Joyce said. “El still hasn’t stopped talking about how pretty your design made the dress.”
Steve blushed as he took the pouch back from her.
“I was talking to someone at the Renaissance Fair,” he said shyly, “and she wanted me make them clothes and things that she would sell for me. She even told me to make business cards in case someone wanted to commission me directly.”
“Oh Steve!” Karen cried. “That’s wonderful!” She clapped her hands together and tilted her head. “I have to admit I’m a little jealous. That pattern is beautiful. I would love a handkerchief with that on it.”
Steve straightened up. “Yeah?”
Karen nodded.
“What color would you like?” he asked excitedly.
Karen tried to protest but he wouldn’t let her. In fact he managed to convince all but Olive to let him make them one for them.
It did, unfortunately take him to the end of the two hours, but he was excited to come next week.
“I’ll even host it at my place!” he said with a grin.
Olive sputtered. “Well I won’t be there if it’s at this young man’s house. That’s so inappropriate.”
The three other ladies looked at each other and then shrugged.
“Your loss,” Karen said dryly.
Olive stormed out of the house vowing that as long as Steve was part of the group she would never come back.
“Well that is a relief,” Joyce said, “I’m not the kind to speak ill of anyone, but we really got quite the upgrade!”
Karen clapped her hands. “Indeed. I can’t wait for next week. I’ve got a new project I’m starting and I found the best recipe for a chocolate mousse that I’ve been dying to try out.”
“Same time next week, ladies?” Steve asked.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Claudia agreed.
Then there came a loud honk.
Steve looked out the window and smiled. “Looks like my ride is here.”
He gather up his stuff, including the patterns and sewing kit and walked out to Eddie’s van.
He slid into the front seat.
“You have fun today, sweetheart?” Eddie asked, pulling out of the driveway.
“Yeah,” Steve said looking fondly at the house. “This has been the best weekend ever.”
Eddie grinned. “Well, it’s about to get even better, just wait to you see what I have planned for us today.”
Steve smiled as Eddie regaled him with his plans and nodded along.
Life was really looking up. He had a platonic soulmate, good friends, an amazing boyfriend, a hobby he enjoyed and could make real money from, and now a group of people to share that hobby with each week.
And to think it all started with a flier about the Renaissance Fair coming back to Hawkins.
“I can’t wait,” he breathed once Eddie was done.
Eddie smiled that sweet smile at always turned Steve’s insides to mush.
Yeah, Steve could honestly say that he was happy.
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leclerc-s · 1 day
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paint the town red - part twelve
IT'S BEEN A LONG TIME COMING
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series masterlist
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MONZA 2024
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scuderiaferrari posted new stories
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local german spotted in the paddock!! well, look who the iceman dragged in STOP STEALING MY PHONE TO TAKE PICTURES YOU KNOCK-OFF ONE DIRECTION!! clearly these guys are hard at work before quali today. scores polo position, begs bianca for her phone, sends me this and says, 'let the people know i'm ecstatic to have pole position.' who's man is this??
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there is anticipation in the air. the city of monza is thick with excitement, the possibility of their drivers not only winning the race as a 1-2 but also becoming constructor champions at their home race is amazing. it’s a sense of excitement the tifosi haven’t felt since monza 2019, back when their current championship leader, won their home race. however, no one is more charles and carlos. charles is on pole once again, carlos right behind him with max and oscar behind them, it’s another ferrari front row lockout, but this time it’s at monza, their home race.
charles had been smiles all around, laughing and joking with his fellow drivers, he wasn’t nervous anymore, he’d lost the nerves after winning monaco. carlos also had lost the nerves after winning his home race in spain. they were confident and probably a little cocky, but with the lead they had in the championship, it would only be a matter of time before they won, it just wouldn’t be as special if they won anywhere else but monza. 
much like monaco, the avengers could be spotted in the paddock throughout the entirety of the weekend. everywhere you glanced there was an avenger there, dressed to the nines and in red, showing their support for ferrari. but the true stars like always were charles and carlos. however, the arrival of a certain former ferrari driver sparked even more chaos than anyone else ever could. kimi räikkönen was spotted in the ferrari garage, sparking much conversation because the beloved iceman was missed around the paddock.
once again, will buxton was walking through the garage area when an avenger was caught waving at will, this time the culprit was none other than steve rogers. behind him were the ever bickering duo of sam and bucky. 
“mr. rogers, a pleasure to be seeing you here at monza.” will greeted. steve smiled at him, “mr. rogers makes me sound old, i’m only a 104 will. steve will do just fine.”
will laughed, “well, steve, how are you liking monza so far?” 
“it’s been great,” steve began, “the energy here is just unbelievable. i thought the craziest it would get was monaco, but i was wrong.” 
“did you enjoy monaco? it was quite the chaotic race, not for ferrari of course. they had a calm race.”
“oh yes, it was very fun and entertaining. i wasn’t much of a formula 1 guy before all of this, it was after my time the first time around. but when i met tony he used to require no one bother him on race weekends, bianca always joined him, it was like their thing.” 
“are you liking the sport so far? any complaints?” 
“no, none from me personally. i heard the fans get annoyed when one person or one team starts winning it all so i suspect they’ll start complaining after this. as for liking the sport, yes, it’s very entertaining once you understand how everything works.”
“any doubts from the team today?” will asked, hoping to get some information out of him. steve shook his head, “they’re pretty confident they can win today. i know, like most race weekend when max is starting behind charles, they feel a bit of pressure, but they’ve got this. the car’s good, the drivers are confident.” 
“so they’re definitely winning this?” 
“of course,” steve answered, “not a doubt in my mind about it.” 
“very well, it was nice speaking to you steve,” will said, as he departed. 
“bye will,” steve replied. he rapidly turned around, beginning to scold sam and bucky. which the cameras caught, one of the commentators making a joke about it. 
inside the ferrari garage the team stood in a semi circle, sebastian being the last to join them. the closer they got the race, the more the nerves seemed to actually appear. sebastian took a look at his team, “we’ve got this.” 
“we do,” bianca agreed. the shared a quick embrace before parting ways. charles turned to bianca, “another bet?” 
bianca groaned, “no, no more betting.”
“it’s kind of a tradition now,” he joked. 
“fine,” bianca said, “one last bet, what do you want?” 
“if i win this, and we become constructors champions today, you have to tell your dad.”
“what? do you have a death wish?”
“he won’t kill me,” charles replied, “he likes me too much.”
“i’ll think about it,” bianca answered, “now, shut up and listen to what i have to tell you.” 
“yes, madame,” the two laughed, failing to notice a gossiping joaquin and scott. 
“they’re totally dating,” scott told joaquin. joaquin nodded in agreement, “i wonder how long they can keep this up for?” 
“not long,” scott replied, “bianca is not that great of a secret keeper. she’s bound to slip up sooner or later.”
the two of them shut up as sam and bucky approach them, the race 20 minutes away from starting. charles steps away from bianca as the team begins taking the car out of the garage and towards the race track. he exchanges a nod with bianca before joining the rest of the grid for the national anthem. as soon as it was over he went to talk for a moment with carlos before he was being ushered to get into the car.
"radio check," bianca said.
"do you think we can play a song when we win? like the lady gaga one again?" charles questioned. bianca laughed, "we'll see."
the moments before the lights went out were the most nerve wracking moment's of charles life. despite telling everyone he wasn't nervous and tricking himself into believing the nerves were gone for good, he was lying. but he moment those lights were out he was gone. carlos was left behind fighting max for p2 as oscar was shown to sneak around both of them and gain the upperhand. on lap 3 carlos was finally able to get away from max, and his fight with oscar began. it would only be a matter of time before he caught up with oscar but for now oscar was gone.
apparently catching oscar would be easier said than done, but a pit stop error from mclaren gave carlos the advantage that he needed. when he came out of the pits oscar was now fighting max for that final podium position. in the penultimate lap of the race, with charles and carlos ahead of them oscar and max continued to fight u til they achieve a photo finish. unfortunately for the reigning world champion, oscar came out on top for the race.
"it seems fitting that here, in monza, the home of ferrari, where they bleed rosso corsa, that ferrari is crowned the constructor champion of the 2024 season! for the first time since 2008 ferrari is constructor champions! charles leclerc and carlos sainz bring home another 1-2 for the scuderia.”
the camera pans to the the ferrari crew as they erupt into screams and begin jumping for joy. at the pit lane bucky barnes and sam wilson run across the pitlane, grabbing sebastian vettel and hoisting him onto their shoulders, as they parade the man up and down the lane. they stop in front of the red bull garage, both soldiers stop for a brief moment, flipping off the red bull crew who could only laugh, a visibly upset christian horner is shown for a moment. joaquin torres and peter parker are seen grabbing tony stark and throwing the man into the air, all he can do is laugh.
but the real stars, charles and carlos are basking in their win. the two cars came to stop at their rightful places in the parc ferme. charles jumps out of his car first, he jumps on top of it as carlos does the same. the two drivers turn to look at each other before running and enveloping each other in a hug. together they rush at their team, who welcome them with open arms. both of them hug their engineers tightly, before rushing to get weighted. charles is the first to spot oscar, he shakes the other drivers hand as oscar congratulates him.
before he can say anything else, david coulthard is pulling oscar away for his interview. carlos follows after him, with a brief congrats from oscar. charles is last one to go for his interview before all three drivers were being ushered to the cool down room.
charles turns to oscar, “i thought you were behind me?”
oscar shakes his head, “i lost a position after my pit stop. there was some kind of mistake and it was too late to catch up with carlos. i came out right in front of max.”
“i couldn’t catch you,” carlos tells the aussie. oscar smiles a bit, “you were too busy fighting with max.”
the three drivers turn to the screen, checo’s car is seen fighting with a williams, carlos looks confused, “is that logan or alex?”
“logan,” oscar answered, “he was starting p10 this race.”
“he’s doing better, no?” charles asked. oscar nodded, “he was close to a podium a while back in canada.”
“he’ll get it one day,” charles said, rather optimistically. with the way the season had been going, full of surprises, it was only a matter of time before logan got his podium.
“i hope so,” oscar whispered. he knew his american friend and been longing to get that podium in formula 1. it was his way of proving everyone wrong.
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will buxton approaches tony, before the podium ceremony, he’s got both arms around harley and bianca. bianca is holding morgan in her arms. the little girl looking at everything in wonder while harley is bicker with peter. tony notices will and smiles at him.
“tony, bianca, harley, any words to the fans?” will asks.
"this win is not just for us," tony begins, "it's for every single tifosi who waited and hoped that one day we would be constructors champions again. but this is also for the other drivers who were let down by ferrari in the past. kimi, felipe, fernando, this is for you! forza ferrari!"
“it’s just,” harley began, “it’s incredible to be able to do this in front of our home crowd, it’s so special. we’re so thankful they had faith in us to be able to do this.”
“holy shit,” bianca softly says, “it was always a dream, to be able to do this, to see ferrari do this. i don’t think there are any words to describe what we as a team feel having won this after so many years.”
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the screams are deafening as carlos runs up to the podium. he waves at the crowd, seamingly amplifying the cheers. charles is called up next to the podium and it seems like the cheers grow louder. charles stands on his spot at the podium, as he looks down at the crowd below, where his team is, winking at them, or rather someone. the person on stage is ferrari’s beloved team principal, sebastian vettel. he smiles brightly, at his two drivers, the crowd below chanting his name.
the national anthems begin, causing it to go silent for a moment as the monégasque anthem begins. charles smiles brightly, hearing his anthem play in monza again. the anthem switches to the italian anthem and all hell breaks loose. all around them the crowd sings the anthem, as their team sings along. all three ferrari members turn to look at each other mounting the words of the italian anthem, before looking back at the crowd.
as each of the drivers get handed their trophies, the crowd’s energy shifts.
oscar raises up his trophy to his team, a group of papaya drowned out by a sea of red, but everyone cheers for him regardless. carlos holds up his trophy, as the sounds are amplified. charles receives his next and throws it up in the air, before holding it out to the tifosi and his team. the last one to receive the trophy is seb, he takes and waits a moment before showing it to the crowd. the screams grow louder, if that was even possible.
when the time comes, all three drivers, as if in agreement, turn to drown seb with champagne. the team principal laughs before they all turn to the crowd below. after pictures, seb grabs the trophy, running to the front of the stage, where he holds it out, one last time, and the screams are deafening. it had been a long time coming but ferrari has finally done it, they were finally constructors champions.
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liked by sebastianvettel, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and others
scuderiaferrari 2024 constructor world champions. we fucking did it! to our beloved tifosi, this is for you. your years of patience have paid off, we are so back.
tagged: charles_leclerc, carlossainz55
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harleykeener YEAH BABY! THAT'S HOW YOU MAKE A COMEBACK!
username i never thought i'd live to see the day! OH MY GOD!
username oh these guys are going to be so fucking hungover tomorrow
peterparker LET'S FUCKING GO! FORZA FERRARI!
biancastark_potts FUCK EVERYONE WHO THOUGHT WE COULDN'T DO IT!
↳ username oh yeah, these guys are so drunk. where's isaiah when you need him?
charles_leclerc WE DID IT BABY!! LET'S GO!!
isaiah_atkins VICTORY HAS NEVER FELT SO SWEET!
↳ username apparently he's as drunk as them.
arthur_leclerc YEAH! SCREW RED BULL! WE DID IT!
↳ username oh boy, they're all going to regret this tomorrow
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liked by pierregasly, landonorris, harryosborn and others
peterparker PARTY ROCKERS IN THE HOUSE TONIGHT! (i have no memory of what occurred last night, yes we all partied together.)
tagged: michellejones, yelenabelova, katebishop, biancastark_potts, joaquintorres, pierregasly, francesca.cgomes, georgerussell63, fernandoalo_oficial, harleykeener, maxverstappen1, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, isaiah_atkins, ririwilliams, landonorris, oscarpiastri, logansargeant, alex_albon, lilymhe, lewishamilton, danielricciardo, yukitsunoda0511, arthur_leclerc, olliebearman, americachavez, estebanocon, mickschumacher, lancestroll
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📍peterparker not pictured is yuki and pierre's horrible karaoke, isaiah falling on his ass, yelena punching a guy who flirted with her, riri outdrinking max, logan and oscar taking a nap in the middle of the club, alex and george almost making out, lewis trying to get a dancing kate off a table, charles for some reason, and many others.
↳ pierregasly he disappeared in the middle of the party and came back like an hour later?
↳ charles_leclerc lies and slander!
samwilson is that bianca? making out with someone?
↳ peterparker huh i guess it is.
↳ katebishop that is obviously the boyfriend you idiots.
yelenabelova is that why there's blood on my shirt?
↳ alex_albon you are one scary lady. you knocked him out.
↳ yelenabelova good, you should fear me.
biancastark_potts oh my god, what the hell happened last night?
↳ americachavez apparently too much and too little at the same time.
yukitsunoda you guys should throw more parties if it means free alcohol paid for by tony stark.
↳ tonystark YOU PEOPLE PAID WITH MY CARD?
↳ harleykeener duh? you're a billionaire, you can handle it.
ririwilliams i have never been more proud of myself.
↳ katebishop you built your own iron man suit from scratch?
↳ ririwilliams and? i outdrank max verstappen! that's not something a lot of people say they can do.
↳ maxverstappen1 she's right! be proud of yourself riri!
harryosborn oh, i'm sure you guys had fun.
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bianca groaned as she pulled her phone away from her face, charles laying beside her laughed. bianca turned to look at him, "this isn't funny."
"it's hilarious mon amour," charles said through giggles. bianca rolled her eyes, as she sat up, "sure, my dad demanding to know who i'm kissing in peter's post is hilarious."
charles laughed again and as bianca moved to get up charles pulled her back, "you have to tell him."
"i will," bianca promised, "i just have to figure out when."
charles nuzzled his face into her neck, "go back to sleep."
both of their phones buzzed at the same time, a text from harley. bianca grabbed her phone first, sitting up as she read harley's text, charles groaned, "no, come back."
"shit," bianca said as she began running around the room. charles sat up, "what is it?"
"harry told my dad. we have less than five minutes before he shows up."
charles sat up, "why is this bad? i thought you wanted to tell him? are you embarrassed of me?"
bianca stopped, pulling her shirt over head, shaking her head rapidly, "i'm not, i promise. i just, i wanted to tell him when i wanted too, not when someone else decided to tell him. with harry, my dad found out because of norman. i never got an opportunity to do things right."
"okay," charles said, pulling a shirt over his head. bianca kissed his forehead, causing charles to pout, "i think you missed."
bianca laughed, but pressed a quick kiss to his lips, charles seemed ready to protest when both of them froze, a voice coming from the otherside of the door, "LECLERC!"
"oh shit," bianca whispered.
"LECLERC OPEN THIS DOOR! AND YOU! BIANCA MARIA STARK-POTTS BETTER NOT BE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR WITH HIM!" TONY SHOUTED.
"fuck," the couple whispered.
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¡leclerc-s speaks! ooh, a cliffhanger dun, dun, dun! harry's such an ass, can't believe i wrote him to be like that. bianca and charles are so american coded. i stand by what i said.
¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!
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0daylighthours0 · 3 days
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A Deep Dive into Milkvan and Byler's Development: If Milkvan Was Endgame All Along, Why Was it Written Like This???
SO. I've been rewatching st with my mother, who's never seen it before. And she was a fan of milkvan throughout seasons 1 and 2. Viewing those seasons again I could see why, they're cute. However, come season 3 and INSTANT distaste. And, listen, my mother is not the consciously shipping gal. She simply routes for main character pairings as writers intend, doesn't read between the lines, doesn't nothing. And she does NOT know my own opinions on the pairing. In other words, completely unbiased, uninternet drama influenced eyes. We've now reached season 3 and, after getting through a chunk of it, I asked her,
"so what do you think of Mike and El?"
and she expressed to me that they seem to be, quote:
"not very good together."
She said El's character doesn't suit the way she's acting now (in the first few episodes, concerning Mike), that Mike is more likeable and interesting when he's away from her. She doesn't like the way they ditched the party, and when it comes to their 'making out' the scenes are seen by her from Hopper's perspective (in other words, distasteful). She claimed that they'd be much better characters as friends.
And ya know what, she's right. And I mean like - duh, that's what we've been saying all this time, I'm not stating anything new here. But guys, wouldn't it be strange if the central couple of the show, pivotal that it is liked by audiences and is rooted for by them as they are THE pair, would be so dislikable like this? So uninteresting, so cliche.
I mean, okay, let's do a little mental experiment I like to do to test if I'm not just acting delulu. Let's play a game. In this game, milkvan ARE meant to be endgame. They are in love, they were all along, and they're here to draw in viewers and appease all El stans. Now, seasons 1 and 2 their relationship is honestly fine. Surface level, yeah, people will watch and appreciate them. They perfectly blend in with all the other neat pairings of the seasons, and have their own unique character traits to stand out as a main couple.
Just pretending our mate Will doesn't exist, we now get into season 3. Now, writers have nothing to lose here. If you've finished season 2, you probably like milkvan already. The issue is that they're already together now, so what's the conflict going to be? The arc? And every central couple needs that conflict to stay juicy.
Just take a look:
Jancy: quarrels, struggle to understand one another
Jopper: not yet together, one sided? will they won't they
Lumax: ...
Lumax? Lumax. Huh, guess they were simply together. Some loveable bickering, maintained a friendly dynamic while clearly in closer proximity. Well then, writers can do the same for milkvan right? Well, yes easily. But one might argue that since they are supposed to be THE pairing they need more going on between them than that. So what'll it be? Well, it seems that writers thought,
"hey, why not break them up?"
ok so.. that's a bit risky. I mean you want people to like this ship, if you break them up then that threats: 1. there being a disliking to one or both characters, 2. coming off generic if done incorrectly, 3. the break up might make no sense considering how in love they came off as just a season ago. But hey.. it could work, if done right. Some kind of misunderstanding, similar to Jancy. Maybe an argument leading to a sudden parting. I mean, yeah, Yeah! I can see that. Perhaps Mike is being too overprotective whilst El's trying to sacrifice herself for something, so she NEEDS to separate herself from him attempting to hurt him less. Or, I dunno, something akin. What's crucial is that us, AS THE AUDIENCE, still know them to be deeply in love. I mean, we have to still want them to be together. And we've seen couple trouble before. Just take a look at Lumax season 4 - did you or did you not want the best for both of them as a pair? You most likely did. See, it's doable. So did people like milkvan season 3 the same way, even after a separation plot? No.
Okay well, there are obviously those who'll always love milkvan no matter but, see, season 3 tainted it. "We need to write them like this cause it's more realistic to teenager behavior" my ars. You can make it messy without making it icky. Not only did it sour their unique dynamic, it flabbergastingly stomped on Mike as a character.
Honestly, I feel Mike has always been a mild struggle to write. Season 1 his motivations were 'find Will' (who still doesn't exist in our mind game yet shh) and 'protect El'. This worked well for him. Afterwards though, El and Will became more separate plots to him. But as a main character it remained integral that he be closely linked to them somehow. This sets him apart from Lucas and Dustin, who can easily be given any arc any season as their plots have the flexibility of a side quest nature. Since what Mike does is meant to matter more - with there probably being a better way of phrasing that but you know what I mean - it's harder knowing what he'll do when El and Will (who we'll GET to sh.) are their own separate people. And Mike is just a boy, he doesn't have super powers and he isn't a cop, which leaves there even less for him to do which is of significance. Season 2 writers decided upon having him support Will's arc, making himself of enough relevance by being able to take credit for some Will development in the story, and the plots that surrounded that, and then Mike was thrown a little bone by being the one to come up with the idea of burning those vines in the finale.
Truthfully, you don't really remember Mike's deeds much when reminiscing the series. It isn't like Dustin who's bond with Dart sticks to everyone, or Nancy and Jonathan responsible for kicking out Hawkins Lab. This is due to them, again, being able to traverse all sorts of adventures without limits. But my guy Mike can't do dat. Sadly, this kind of leads to him coming of as a little.. well... insignificant. And I know I know, the Mike truthers are gonna come at my throat. And hey! I love him too. I only want the best for my boy.
This makes season 3 a unique case cause it seems that, for the plot they decided they wanted, writers actually had to almost entirely change his character. I mean mate s2 Mike and s3 Mike are two different peoples, don't even. And I don't believe that the Duffers had their story and character turnouts completely drawn out from the very start at all. If I was to guess, I'd assume they have vague ideas of little plots they plan to include in future, but there is definitely a lot that has come unpredicted or changed throughout st's runtime. And one of those phenomenons are Michael Wheeler. So they decided to make this guy a di-
So they decided to make him more douchy, more movie typical teenage guy. It's not as if he wholly sucked, he didn't, but he didn't really do much. Whined about his girlfriend, separated the party. I mean what even was his arc? (UnLESS–)
You see, if milkvan is written to be loved, then season 3 was strike one. All of its charm was stripped away. It seems they had some cute scenes after their reconciliation, but it's not enough. It's just sort of
"oh, ok, so they're happy with eachother now. yayy."
and Stranger Things should want to be anything but boring. Sure they often enjoy indulging in tropes, but they always do something different with them. Something standoutish. And from this point on milkvan just got dull. Either writers ran out of ideas or lost interest, honestly (still with our mind game of telling ourselves they're meant to be).
But it's okay. Look, so season 3 was a bit rocky, maybe lost a couple of fans for the guys, but it is salvageable. Easily, easily. Looks like we want a plot of Mike struggling to tell El he loves her. Great! Much to work with.
So let's get into it. Season 4! Choices were... made. And, okay, now we can't go any further without bringing in our boy Will.
Mike is intrinsically tied to Will and El and has been from the start. Maybe Will was more of an accident. Maybe s1 Will was just a plot device for Mike, then s2 Will was a plot device again and Mike needed to be there as the main boy character. Come season 3 and it seems their relationship still matters. Will was sidelined - hard - so most of Mike's moments revolved around El. But as his bond with Mike is the only that's been properly built up, that's the only friend we'll get him interacting with in a way that matters. So the Mike and Will tie continues!
But that does not have to be the case for season 4. Now the writers have a chance.
They made Will gay.
Ok so.. ok so yeah that's fine. Yeah! I mean they didn't have to do that, might put them in hot water with the bylers since milkvan is their golden beauty but.. you know what no no that's okay. He's been hinted at being queer since episode 1, why not make it canon! Cool that works. Explore that, especially since we now have Vecna who can easily target Will for this. Give him a boyfriend! Or a guy crush. He's at a new school now? That's cool. Maybe we can explore some new male character Will's taken interest in. Hey maybe he meets someone who interests him which rises to surface his whole sexuality plot and-
he's in love with Mike.
Ok. No. No. What are you doing? What do you mean?? You didn't have to do that. Strike- strike EFING TWO mates! Strike. 👏 efing. 👏 2!
This was part 1. I am tired and gots to get my ars in bed. But ohohoh, do not worry. I am just getting started.
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m1ssunderstanding · 2 days
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Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 4.2
Having Paul talking about following his artistic muse and deciding not to care what other people think paired with the insanity of McCartney 2 is fantastic. 
I sincerely hope those 20K words that Paul wrote for his posterity about his time in jail are published some day. 
He looks so pretty in this interview!
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John and Sean are so cute! 
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“Nobody Knows” is about secretly hooking up with John, obviously. But “that includes you, honey!” Is that at Linda?? Don't do that to your mother, Paul. 
The only scenario in which I  support a hypothetical JP sexual/romantic relationship in the 70s is that hypothetically no wives were harmed in the making of this hypothetical. 
Not the cut from “Coming Up” to “Probably the thing that John and I will do . . .” to John's self interview about bisexuality and Paul and life begins at forty back to Coming Up interspersed with footage of happy JP to John getting out a guitar to record a demo! 
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And the demo is (Just Like) Starting Over. Just bury me already. 
Another lyrical reference I didn't catch in the demo version: “it's easy.” Sung very similarly to how he sang it in All You Need is Love. 
John comparing them to brothers (Everly) and a marriage (Goffin and King) in the same sentence. And he's right, too.
I love the interviewer being so skeptical of John and how dismissive he is of Paul in this interview and how he can't get his story straight on when the last time he'd seen Paul was. More women should've interviewed him.
How I imagine it went. Interviewer: hi John are you ready to -- John: did you know I never think about Paul anymore unless somebody brings him up? Interviewer: but I didn't – John: yeah he used to show up at my door with a guitar and I told him to go away. Interviewer: ooookaaay? 
Cutie! I love John so much.
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“If I was dead, they wouldn't be angry with me. If I'd conveniently died in the mid seventies after Rock and Roll album or Walls and Bridges (((everybody loves you when you're six feet in the ground))), they'd all be writing this worshipful stuff about what a great guy.” It hurts to hear and it hurts that he was exactly right. 
I don't care what John and Yoko say, manifesting is just another capitalist lie to keep the proletariat complacent. 
“The only one who can control me is me and that's just barely possible.” It's one of those John quotes that's so silly and cute and also entirely relatable. He really had a way of capturing the human condition. 
“Nobody ever said anything about Paul having a spell over me when I was with him for a long time! Or me having a spell over Paul! They didn't think that was abnormal, two guys together.” Yeah, John, they definitely did and they made fun of it and tried to poke holes in it, or have you forgotten?
“Or four guys together.” Yeah. George and Ringo were in the Beatles too.
“In those days? Why didn't anybody ever say ‘How come those guys don't split up?” You're joking, right John? 
The video/audio pairing here though! You mean ‘what's going on under the table?’
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Love John getting pissed that nobody asked him, “What is that Paul and John business?” RIP John, you would've loved Beatles Tumblr.
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imaginespazzi · 16 hours
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Part 4: The Art of Letting Go
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Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3
Only know you love her when (she lets you) go
(In which a still very sadistic writer make things a lot worse but only so they can get a little bit better)
Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd
Themes: Angst, Pining, Hurt with very little comfort
Words: 7.9K
TW: Car Accidents, Panic Attacks, Swearing
A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 I know I'm very, very late with this and I love you all for being so patient. I don't really know how I feel about this chapter but it is what it is. Logistical details are probably a little off but I need things to work for the plot, so try and ignore that. Per usual I did edit (very loosely and I'll probably go back over it later), there are probably typos anyways. And as always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't, and what you'd like to see in the future. Happy reading lovelies and let's get a W this weekend. <3
December 2023
A week or so after they get back from the Cayman Islands, Azzi feels like she’s been sleep-walking through life, everything around her hazy and dull. She religiously sticks to a routine of eat-study-practice-sleep. Except well, sleep isn’t really sleeping. It’s her brain conjuring images of blonde hair and blue eyes and Azzi forcing herself to wake-up from a nightmare that used to be her favourite dream. 
She doesn’t tell anyone what happened, lying to herself it’s because it would be embarrassing and not because it would mean having to face the truth. Still, it doesn’t mean that her teammates can’t piece together little bits. There must be something quite sinister about the air around her, because none of her normally nosy and eager-to-help sisters try to weasel any information out of Azzi. They act like they always have, only sharing worried looks behind her back when the façade of i’m doing fine slips momentarily when she thinks no one’s watching. 
And then that façade goes to hell over the span of a couple of hours. 
It starts with the inevitable breakup with Zoe. At first Azzi avoids it, making up excuses as to why she can’t see her girlfriend. Selfishly, there’s a part of her that wants to keep Zoe, keep a girl who would never leave, never make her feel anything less than (or more than) just content. But it’s not fair, Azzi knows that, and it’s why she practises her it’s not you, it’s me speech to perfection in front of the mirror. When she goes to message Zoe that she's coming over, the text chain causes a pinch of guilt in her heart at the contrast between her girlfriend’s hopeful tone versus her own nonchalant one. And Azzi thinks that Zoe will never really understand just how similar the two of them are, stuck at wanting someone who would always let them down. Only, Azzi will let Zoe free but when it comes to her herself, she’s pretty sure she’s destined to be trapped forever. 
It’s embarrassing to admit that Azzi remembers the apartment in Storrs that she’d visited barely a handful of times a lot more than she remembers the apartment she’s currently in, the one that belongs to her girlfriend. Zoe sits rigidly on the couch with the same reserved, guarded expression she’s had since she’d opened the door, clearly aware of what was about to happen. Her foot taps incessantly as the silence between them drags on.
“You deserve better,” Azzi says finally, keeping her eyes firmly locked on the floor. 
“No,” Zoe’s voice is cold, “don’t say shit like that. It’s a cop out. It’s the shit people say to make themselves feel better-”
“Zoe-”
“Don’t be a fucking coward Azzi. Look me in the eye and say it, say exactly what you’re here to.”
Azzi doesn’t want to do any of that. She wants to crumble to the ground and let it swallow her until she’s buried so far away from the mess she’s created. But she owes Zoe this. When she does look at Zoe, there’s this look in the other girl’s eyes that Azzi had never thought herself capable of evoking in anyone and she has to swallow away the bile that rises in her throat, disgusted by her own self. 
“I’m breaking up with you,” Azzi whispers. Her words linger in the air, like shrapnel after an explosion. Zoe flinches, a single tear trickling down her face. 
“There it is,” the Californian says quietly, the ghost of an ironic smile playing on her lips, “I knew it was coming but damn- there it is.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“For what-” Zoe cuts herself, “no actually don’t- don’t answer that. I think I know.”
Azzi draws in a deep breath, ready to confess, “I need to tell-”
“Please-”
“Z-”
“Please,” Zoe sobs, “please don’t tell me. I don’t wanna hear it okay? I don’t- I don’t want to hate you Azzi. It’s too much and I don’t- I just- I’m so tired of feeling so much for you when you don’t- when you feel so little for me.”
“That’s not true,” Azzi counters helplessly, her words ringing hollow to her own ears. 
“Fucking hell you just ended it Azzi, you don’t have to pretend anymore. And it’s okay because I get it. You can’t feel any more than what little you do for me because- because you’ve already given the rest of it away. And it’s not- it’s not like I didn’t know you know? I only ever met you because you were crying over her. You only let me into your life because you missed her. And now you have her,” Zoe says wistfully. 
It’s terrible the way everything else becomes white noise as Azzi’s ear latches on the last sentence, a sentence that couldn’t be any further away from the truth. She was prepared for the accusations, for Zoe to hurl every curse word in the book at her, but this, the unintended reminder that she was giving up on soft, sweet, gentle Zoe for something that she didn’t have, hurts far more than any words could. 
“This isn’t about-” 
Zoe’s quick to cut Azzi off, pushing herself off the couch they had been sharing, trying to put even more space in between them, “please do not insult my intelligence by finishing that sentence. I deserve that much at least.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know you are because I know- I know who you are Azzi and I know you’re a good person and that’s why- that’s why I don’t wanna know okay? Whatever you did- whatever happened- just let me- just let me have this. Let me remember you as someone good- someone great,” Zoe pleads.
“If that’s what you want Zo,” Azzi answers weakly, the guilty clawing at her heart. She doesn’t think she deserves to be remembered like that, doesn’t think she’s worthy of being thought of with fondness, not anymore. 
Zoe doesn’t make any acknowledgement of Azzi having spoken as she starts to pace, “I should have known. You know the day I met her this summer, I got it- the appeal- I got it immediately. She has this aura, this charm. She just- she just fucking glows you know? And she’s just- she’s this huge entity and so are you and I’m just,” she lets out a hollow laugh as she shrugs,  “I’m just a girl from Stockton, California.”
“And you’re amazing,” Azzi puts up a hand when Zoe tries to cut her off again, “you are. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you for what you did for me last year. You could have walked away that day and maybe- maybe one day you’ll think you should have. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Zoe. You do deserve better. It’s not a cop out. It’s the truth.”
Since she was younger, Azzi’s always hated endings. This time is no different. The bitter truth is that she probably won’t miss her girlfriend, but she will miss the friend that had gotten her through one of the toughest years of her life. Slowly, Azzi picks herself off of the couch and walks over to a still Zoe, squeezing her left hand once before heading towards the door. 
“Azzi,” Zoe calls out, just as Azzi has one foot out the door, “I hope it works out for the two of you. You and Paige always did just seem inevitable.”
***
She blames the fact she’s currently stuck in the terrible LA traffic, with the word inevitable ringing in her ears, for the way her fingers continuously flicker over the green call button under Paige’s name. Zoe saying her name had been the first time in a week that Azzi had even let herself, in consciousness at least, think of the blonde properly. And now that it had been unleashed, whispers of Paige, Paige, Paige echo through every crevice of skull. The pain and anger that she’d been trying to shield herself from, come barraging into her heart as she’s held captive once again by thoughts of her best friend. 
It would be a lie to say that Azzi hadn’t been hoping for a call or a text to come through. She’d waited two days with bated breath for a friendly quip that would lead them back to their safe haven of just pretend. Instead it was as if they were back to being who they had been before summer of 2022 all over again. Back to being nothing. But this time Azzi had been adamant that if Paige was going to cut her off again, she wouldn’t fight it, not this time. Apparently that resolve was never meant to last and Azzi feels a little pathetic with how desperately she needs to hear Paige’s voice, how desperately she wants to try again. 
The traffic clears just as she presses call and maybe that should have been a sign. Azzi’s not a bad driver per say, but as her dad always said, no one’s a good driver when they’re distracted. The phone rings for too long and she should take that as her next sign and accept it as Paige not wanting to talk, but she lets it continue to ring anyway, as she turns onto a more secluded road. And then-
“Hello,” the voice is unfamiliar and Azzi doesn’t really know Paige’s teammates, beyond Caroline, that well but she’s pretty certain this one doesn’t belong to any of them. 
“Hi uh- who is this?” she manages to get out as her grip tightens on the steering wheel.
“Oh um- this is Rose, Paige’s friend” comes the reply, the word friend said with a sultry lilt and Azzi feels her skin prickle. Hang up. 
“Why are you answering Paige’s phone?” her tone is far more accusatory than she’d like it to be. 
“She’s in the bathroom but she told me to,” Rose answers defensively. 
Azzi hesitates, she doesn’t need to know more except, “does she know who called?”
Because surely if she did, if Paige knew it was Azzi on the other line, she wouldn’t let one of her likely random hookups answer the phone, surely Paige would know what it would do, how it would make her feel. 
“Uh yeah- I told her Azzi called and she seemed pretty sure she wanted me to pick up.”
Maybe Paige does know what it would do, does know how it would make Azzi feel, maybe that’s the whole fucking point. Through the phone she can hear quiet footsteps walking closer, towards Rose. When Paige is close enough that Azzi can make out the sound of her breathing, can almost picture the way her chest is heaving, that’s when the tears finally fall, blurring her vision. 
She doesn’t see the blinking headlights rushing towards her until it’s too late and then she’s swerving. The world around her erupts in motion and light and noise, everything spinning and spinning and spinning. For one moment, as she loses complete control of her car, Azzi thinks maybe this is it. And the most terrifying part of it, is that for a second, she’s not all that opposed to the idea of this being the end. It’s a singular image of her parents in her brain that has her regaining her senses and hitting the brakes as hard as she can. Her tires screech as her car barrels into a tree and her entire body jerks around in her car, her seatbelt leaving burn scars against her neck. Azzi feels her heartbeat going haywire, as everything comes to a halt. 
“Oh my god, oh my god,” Rose’s panicked voice echoes. 
“What?” and there’s Paige and even in this wreckage, Azzi’s heart stutters at the sound of her best friend. 
“I think she crashed-”
“WHAT?” there’s frantic shuffling until, “Azzi? Azzi? Hello? Are you there? Fuck. Azzi are you okay? Please say something. C’mon Az. I know you’re there. Can you hear me? Please be okay. Azzi? Fuck, fuck, fuck. Azzi?”
Azzi opens and closes her mouth, trying to answer to the call of her name, but nothing comes out. She feels hot and cold all over at the same and she swears there’s a hand curled around her neck because she can’t fucking breathe. 
“Azzi,” Paige says again desperately, “please say something.”
“P-Paige,” Azzi finally manages to stutter, her chest heaving as she gasps for air. There’s blood rushing to her ears and everything around her feels hazy. 
“Azzi,” and that one syllable is wrapped in so much emotion, “I’m here okay, are you okay?”
No, Azzi thinks, I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay. 
“I c-can’t breathe. I think” she grasps at her neck, “I th-think I’m having a panic attack.”
Paige curses under her breath, “okay, okay alright listen to me breathe okay? And try to match it okay?”
“O-okay,” Azzi whispers, pressing her head to her steering wheel as she tries to mimic Paige’s exaggerated deep breaths on the other end of the line. 
“Good girl, you’re doing so well for me Azzi, just keep breathing okay,” Paige’s voice is far calmer than she probably is in reality, “just keep breathing with me okay.”
Azzi closes her eyes as she feels her chest slowly start to loosen up and lets herself be immersed by Paige’s soothing words of comfort. And for a second, it almost feels as if her best friend is right there with her. For a second, Azzi imagines that they’re on a whole other planet, just them in their little world, like it always should have been, like she’d once been so sure it would be. It’s a beautiful dream that reality is quick to gatecrash. 
“Babe, is she okay?” Rose asks, and Azzi’s eyes fly open at the term of endearment. She’s not on a different planet. She’s alone. And Paige isn’t. 
“I’m fine,” Azzi breathes out and then more firmly, “I’m fine.”
“Thank God,” Paige lets out a sigh of relief before her tone turns sour “what the actual fuck Azzi?”
Azzi winces at the loudness, pretty sure she might have a concussion from the way her head had crashed back into her headrest as she’d crashed into the tree in front of her. 
“I’m fine,” she repeats assertedly, as everything around her slowly starts to make sense again. It’s not a lie really, at least not physically. There’s the potential concussion, and the litany of bruises she’s starting to feel all over her body but she’s pretty sure there’s nothing wrong internally. Well except for her stupid fucking heart but it wasn’t the accident that had fucked that organ up. 
“You just crashed your fucking car, no you’re not fucking fine,” Paige yells, voice thick with tears. 
“What the fuck do you care?” Azzi bites back, “sorry I interrupted your fucking night Paige. I swear it won’t happen again.”
She hangs up before Paige can say anything else, sitting deathly still for a second. And then she lets herself completely break apart. 
***
74 missed calls from Paige
did u go to the hospital 
pick up ur fucking phone 
dude
azzi
this is not the time for this stubborn bullshit 
PICK UP UR FUCKING PHONE 
AZZI 
just say ur ok at least
please 
called ur mom 
said u had a concussion and some bruising 
thats not too bad 
ur so fucking stupid 
it could be so much worse 
please pick up 
AZZI FUCKING FUDD PICK UP UR PHONE 
so u can call carol and not me ok 
thats just fucking perfect
dude i feel like an accident > stupid fights 
so maybe just pick up 
or call me back
u wanna play this stupid game fine 
ignore me for now
but i’mma be in dc for christmas
ur gonna have to talk to me 
i know where u live 
***
The box in Azzi’s arm feels freakishly heavy, like she’s holding the whole world inside of it. In a way, maybe she is. The walk up Paige’s dad’s driveway feels longer than it ever has and she’s fighting the urge to turn back with every step. As soon as she’d seen the vaguely threatening text message, Azzi had decided she would beat Paige to it. The night of the accident had put several things into perspective and Azzi was determined to finally grasp control of her own life. 
It hasn’t been that long since the Cayman Island and so it hasn’t been that long since Azzi’s seen Paige. But when the door opens and she’s face to face with her best friend, despite the dread and anxiety that’s drowning her heart, Azzi still feels that beat of it’s cold but you always make me feel warm flutter in her chest. Paige smiles and Azzi’s arms wobble, drawing the blonde’s attention to the box in her arms. 
“Still a couple of days till Christmas Az, a little early to give me my present,” Paige smirks lightly and Azzi feels a river of hot anger slide around her veins. After everything she’d put her through in the last couple of weeks, the fact that Paige could act so frivolous, as if they were still fine, makes Azzi see red. 
Her voice is icier than the sheet of frost on the ground when she replies, “it’s not a Christmas present.”
Paige’s eyebrows knit together questioningly, “then-”
“It’s all your stuff I had lying around,” Azzi cuts in, trying to keep her voice confident and stable. 
The smile disappears from Paige’s face as she studies Azzi's face, looking for some semblance of emotion beyond the blank stare. 
“What?”
“All the things you’ve left at my house over the years, a couple of t-shirts, a hat, a book and a couple other things, they’re in this box,” Azzi says pointedly. She tries to hand it over but Paige is quick to move away from it, staring at the offending object as if it’s a ticking time bomb. 
“What the actual fuck is going on Azzi?”
“I might have missed some things. Let me know if I have and I’ll mail them to you in the future,” Azzi recites clinically, keeping her demeanour stoic as possible “and of course I would like my things back as well. Not right now of course. You can mail them to me whenever it suits you.”
“Mail back your things? What? What the fuck are you going on about?” Paige asks, a bewildered expression taking on her face. She reaches out as if she wants to shake Azzi but seems to think better of it. 
Azzi doesn’t say anything, as she sidesteps Paige into the house, putting in the utmost effort to make sure no part of herself brushes up against the older girl, knowing the inevitable burst of electricity when they touch would be enough to break her resolve. She places the box of Paige’s stuff on the coffee table in the living room, before turning back to Paige. 
“I’m giving you your stuff back,” Azzi repeats, “I’m giving you what you want.”
“What I want? When did I ask for my stuff back?”
Azzi draws in a deep breath, fighting desperately against the screams of you don’t want this in her own head, “I’m giving you a clean break Paige. I’m letting you go.”
Saying those words feels a lot like free-falling. Her stomach lurches at the way Paige’s features scrunch up in pain and she’d never meant to do that, but Azzi’s so tired. She’s so tired of this push and pull, the way they seem to hurt each other every fucking time, the way things get so close to going right and then go wrong any way. The bitter truth of life, Azzi has forced herself to admit, is that it doesn’t matter how hard you fight, sometimes the darkness wins out anyway. 
“You think-,” Paige stutters, clutching at her chest, “you think this is what I want?”
“Well isn’t it?” 
“Of course n-”
“If I hadn’t called you that night would you have called me first Paige?  If I hadn’t gotten into that stupid accident, would you even have texted me ever again?”
Paige’s silence is an answer in itself . And although Azzi had known it, she can’t deny that there’s a part of her that had posed the question hoping against hope that Paige would have answered it with a resounding yes of course. She thinks maybe she should be used to the singe of disappointment that burns her skin by now but she’s never been immune to Paige’s fire. 
“That’s what I thought,” Azzi says quietly, “I’m tired of running after you Paige. I thought I was done after the Cayman Islands but then I- I don’t know- I don’t know why I called you that night when you- you clearly didn’t want that.”
“Azzi c’mon-”
“It’s my fault really. Because you've always been clear about it and I- for some reason- I just don’t listen. You were clear with it when you told me to go to UCLA and get out of your life. You were clear when you didn’t want me to come into your air BnB. You were clear when you told me to get out of the bathroom last summer. And when you left that night-,” Azzi pauses as Paige’s eyes widen, the words catching in her throat, “when you were gone that morning- every time you didn’t call- every time you didn’t text- you were always clear about it Paige and I- I’m sorry I didn’t listen.”
“You’re being really fucking unfair right now,” Paige accuses, “you’re mad because I didn’t want to be your fucking side whore? I’m so sorry I had more self-respect than that Azzi.”
Azzi blinks rapidly, her face still completely neutral, “excuse me?”
“You wanna blame me for those first two things, fine. But you have a whole ass girlfriend and you wanted me to be what? Just a girl you can fuck occasionally because you feel like it? Who the fuck do you think I am? I deserve so much better than that.”
“I don’t-”
“You wanna know why I left that morning?” Paige asks icily, “I woke up and the first thing I saw is your girlfriend’s fucking i miss you text. All that shit you said to me when I kissed you in LA about not wanting to be one of my groupies or whatever but what did you want me to be Azzi?”
When they were young and naive, the largest fight they’d ever had was about whether or not one of them had cheated in a game of horse. The allegations of cheater from a 15 year old Paige had seemed massive back then, but they pale in front of the accusations of cheater from a 22 year old Paige. It’s not that Azzi thinks she’s some prime example of a good samaritan and she can deal with people thinking she’s not all that, but it’s different when it’s Paige, it’s different to know that Paige could ever think so low of her. 
“You really think I’d do that you? That I’d make you my sidepiece or whatever?”
“What else am I supposed to think about you fucking me while you have a girlfriend?” Paige asks exasperatedly and Azzi flinches at the repeated use of the profanity. 
“Had.”
“What?”
Azzi grips the hem of her shirt, trying to focus her eyes anywhere but Paige, “I had a girlfriend. Past tense.”
“You- you broke up with Zoe?” Paige’s expression morphs from anger to confusion before finally settling on realisation. 
“I never wanted you to be a side piece. You think I don’t know you deserve better than that?” Azzi rubs her temple, as she tries to keep herself steady on her feet, “I know seeing that text hurt you but it’s not like you didn’t know I had a girlfriend. But- but if you’d just waited for me to wake up, god if you’d just talked to me once instead of jumping to conclusions then-”
“Then what?” Paige breathes out and Azzi doesn’t miss the little spurt of hope that’s taken birth on the older girl's face. 
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Azzi shakes her head, “that’s also past tense now.”
The thing with Paige is that anger is her protective mechanism. When she gets a little close to losing control of her emotions, or feeling too much, it’s what she falls back on so it’s not surprising that her tone is harsh when she speaks again. 
“How the fuck was I supposed to guess you were gonna break up with your girlfriend Az c’mon,” Paige takes a step towards her, “I’m not a fucking mind reader.”
“I never asked you to read my mind. I just- all I’ve ever wanted- is for you to just have a little faith in me- in us,” Azzi’s voice breaks on the last word. 
“That’s not fair. I was really fucking  hurt Azzi-” Paige begins, her voice pleading.
“And then you tried to hurt me back on purpose,” Azzi spits out as the façade of neutrality completely slips off, “you knew it was me calling and you had that girl pick up any way knowing exactly how it would make me feel.”
“Azzi,” baby blue eyes sparkle with tears and Azzi has to force herself to look away, because no matter how much she’s convinced that this is what needs to happen, seeing Paige break, will drown Azzi and she’s barely floating as it is. 
“I don’t enjoy hurting you Paige,” Azzi says softly, “and I don’t think you enjoy hurting me but for the last couple of years, I feel like that’s all we’ve been doing and I- I can’t do it anymore.”
It’s not something she’d ever admitted out loud, or even to herself, but once upon a time Azzi used to think her and Paige would have one of those stories, one of those soft, sappy fairytale-esque stories that had no chance of an ending that wasn’t happily ever after. And she hopes that maybe in another universe, maybe they did have that. Maybe in a universe where she chose UConn and things never went wrong in the first place. Maybe in that universe, they’re happy. But in this universe, they seem to be destined for misery. And Azzi thinks the saddest tragedy of it all, is that it feels like she’s ending a story that never even really got the chance to start. 
“So that’s it then, you’re walking away- you’re just- you’re fucking giving up?” Paige says bitterly, crossing her arms protectively over her chest and Azzi feels a flicker of annoyance light up against her ribcage. 
“Isn’t that what you did?” she accuses, “Is that not what you do? You walk away every. single. time. because you can’t deal with things getting just a little too fucking hard. And what? I’m just supposed to wait until you come back? Or chase after you like a pathetic little puppy?”
Paige flinches at the hardness in Azzi’s tone, mouth opening and closing but nothing escaping. 
“I’m so fucking tired of always being the one calling, the one showing up, the one trying. I’m so fucking tired of fighting for us when it feels like you’re fighting against me,” Azzi pauses,trying to blink away the tears she’d tried so hard to keep locked behind her eyelids, “if you wanna call that me giving up then okay, but I don’t think you realize just how fucking hard I want to hold on.”
Azzi’s not sure if it’s the way her voice cracks, or the absolute misery behind every word she says, but Paige's hard and cold expression is gone so fast it gives her whiplash. And then her Paige, the girl with the warm eyes and soft heart is back, looking at Azzi in a way that makes her want to believe in them all over again. Arms outstretched, Paige takes a step forwards and there’s nothing more Azzi wants then melt into them. It takes everything in her to step away instead. For a moment there’s nothing but them staring at each other in silence, a moment where Azzi tries to memorise everything about Paige just in case this is the last time. And then-
“What if,” Paige begins softly, “what if I entered the draft?”
Azzi looks at her in confusion, “what does that have to do with anything?”
“The Sparks have the second pick, it’s where I’m projected to go,” Paige bites at her lips, peering at Azzi through her eyelashes. 
The Sparks. The Los Angeles Sparks. 
“Is that what you want?” Azzi asks quietly, trying to prevent her brain from already coming up with dreams of stupid picnic dates at the park during sunset. 
Paige hesitates. And it’s enough for those dreams to crumble, because Azzi knows Paige just a little too well, knows exactly what that little bit of hesitation means. 
“I haven’t decided yet but if- if there was a reason that I should-”
“There isn’t,” Azzi says firmly, “it’s not what you want.”
“I don’t even fucking know what I want,” Paige argues and that doesn’t make it any better. 
“Then figure it out,” Azzi yells, frustratedly rubbing her hands over her face, “I won’t deal with you fucking resenting me and running away again in a couple of years- hell in a couple of months- because you regret your fucking decision.”
“I wouldn’t-”
“Please just stop. It's done. I’ve made up my mind” Azzi begs, exhaustion flooding into her body, “just- just let this go please.”
Paige meets her eyes with a stubborn fire, “I don’t fucking want to.”
“Well tough luck because I do.”
“Azzi,” Paige pleads desperately, trying to block Azzi as she beelines for the door, but the younger girl is quick to push past her. 
“Goodbye Paige.”
***
December 2024 
azzi please just let me in 
ur parent are saying u dont wanna see me 
and i get it 
but i can fix this i swear 
i know u know im here
please fucking let me in 
i fucked up 
i know 
im so fucking sorry
but dude we can fix this
just 
can u just fucking let me in
i really wanna see u 
i really wanna talk 
can we just fucking talk 
please 
merry christmas az
u know what fuck u actually 
didnt mean that sorry 
i was just mad 
u make me really fucking mad 
christmas breaks almost over 
i have to go back soon and ik u do too
we should talk before that 
ur so fucking stubborn 
but so am i
im not giving up 
i won’t 
January 2024
hi 
i miss you
ur really fucking annoying
not texting me back
but its fine
i’ll just fucking spam 
i had an ok day today 
practice was kinda ass 
not me tho
i was great
as always 
bet i made more threes than you did 
bro im watching ur game
and
what the fuck kinda airball did u just throw up 
get in the gym az jfc 
oh that was a good pullup
not better than mine
but decent 
been a fucking month azzi 
just fucking call me back 
or text me idk 
i miss u 
sooooooooooo
hows ur day
good? good.
hows mine?
oh kinda shit 
lets see
we lost in front of all these uconn legends
to their fucking rival 
everyones saying uconn fucking sucks 
some people are saying i suck
they might not be completely wrong 
now would be a good time to reply az 
like maybe make me feel better
fuck u actually 
what the fuck am i doing 
idk if u even read these 
February 2024
idk maybe i should stop 
like maybe only fucking psychos do this 
but idk bro 
i feel like ur gonna text me back eventually 
well sc was a shit show 
i mean we knew it but holy shit 
i really wanna talk to you about it
it’d mainly just be me fucking yelling 
and u giggling 
fuck i miss ur laugh
i miss you
idk if u just ignore these
so idk if ur gonna even see this 
but 
i wanted to tell you first 
before u saw it from somewhere else 
im staying at uconn 
u were right
i didnt want to leave yet 
i want my 4 years
but 
just dont think it means i didnt mean what i said
that i dont wanna be in la with u
i do
its not about that
i just need to do whats best for me
and thats staying here 
fuck
i get what u meant now
u didnt pick ucla over me
fuck fuck fuck 
im sorry az
is this how u felt 
when i didn’t text u back 
because it’s actually fucking hell 
i miss you so fucking much dude
i’m so sorry 
i’m really fucking sorry azzi 
for all of it
please just call me back
March 2024
last pac-12 tournament mvp!!
dude i’m so proud of you
we also won 
idk if u heard 
it wasnt easy either 
everything just always fucking goes wrong 
fucking pisses me off 
but oh well 
u know i dont even like texting 
idk how many messages ive sent u 
its gotta be hundreds atp 
insane shit on my part 
tf is wrong with me 
did u see the bracket
see u in the final 4 azzi 
April 2024 
i fucking told u 
i told you id see u in the final four
fucking meant it
fuck 
gonna kick yalls ass
revenge szn
we’re built different in march
cleveland here we fucking go 
but also
cant avoid me anymore 
i cant fucking wait to see you az  
***
UConn 87     UCLA 84 
There’s six seconds left to go and UCLA has control of the ball. The game today had been completely different from the on down in the Cayman Islands. That one had featured a UCLA team that had dominated from start to finish versus a UConn team still reeling from multiple injuries. This time around, UCLA seemed to have lost some of their shine and UConn had been on a tear. She would never give Paige the satisfaction of knowing it but her stupid goading, her incessant smirking because UConn seemed poised to win handedly, had gotten in Azzi’s head for most of the game. The fourth quarter had seen UConn enter with a 11 point lead that had held study until the last two and a half minutes when something had finally clicked for Azzi. 
“Told you, you should have fucking come to UConn,” Paige had sneered while casually dribbling the ball and that had been enough to break Azzi out of whatever funk she’d been in. All of her anger and frustration at Paige seemed to culminate into that one moment as she’d swiped the ball straight from Paige’s hands, narrowly avoiding a foul. An easy steal-and-score layup was followed by two signature three pointers, created by her team’s defence, and suddenly the lead had been cut down to three. On the other side, Muhl had been called for an offensive foul and immediately Coach Close had called for a timeout to advance the ball. 
When both teams get back on the court, Azzi, with her competitive streak in full control of her emotions, relishes in the way Paige’s face is contorted up in frustration. But it isn’t just this game that has Azzi irritated. Paige had been relentless since both teams had landed in Cleveland in trying to corner Azzi. She’d known it was gonna happen since she’d read the text but still Azzi had hoped that maybe the blonde would just let it go, would understand just how much Azzi didn’t want to have to deal with this. Because seeing Paige hurts. All the missing and yearning of the past few months seemed to have blended into this ball of tight hot pain that had burst the minute Paige had smiled at Azzi. She knows Paige means well, and it’s taking everything in her to ignore the part of her that’s secretly enamoured by how hard the point guard is trying finally, but Azzi just can’t do it again. She can’t let Paige in again and then spend every other second scared that Paige will run away again. 
The whistle blows and Charisma gets ready to inbound the ball. The play call had been to just get it to Azzi but it’s clearly one that UConn had anticipated, because she finds herself swarmed with Paige and Muhl both trying to make sure she doesn’t get the ball. Instead, it’s Kiki who gets the ball and the countdown starts, as Azzi fights to get herself free, running off of screens, to get herself open on the three point line. It takes too much time and they don’t have any more timeouts left. Kiki throws it inside to Lauren who misses the layup but gets her own rebound and somehow the ball finally finds its way into Azzi’s hands. And with barely a second left to go, and Paige’s hand firmly in her face, Azzi throws up a prayer. The arena goes deathly silent as the ball hits the back and then circles every inch of the rim before spilling over the edge and falling straight into Edwards’ hands. 
The crowd erupts in deafening cheers as the UConn bench rushes to the court, jubilantly hugging each other with Paige in the middle. Azzi blinks rapidly, refusing to be caught shedding a single tear on camera. Her teammates look distraught and Azzi feels disappointment curling into every crevice of her skin she’d almost had it. In the grand scheme of things she knows that, that shot would have only guaranteed overtime and not a win but still, it wouldn’t have meant a loss. And she knows this one isn’t completely on her either but it doesn’t mean that she doesn’t feel the burden of it on her shoulders any way. 
But despite it all, seeing Paige’s bright smile stretch all over her beaming face as she celebrates with her team, soothes the sting of the loss just a little bit. Azzi still remembers late night calls and Paige’s broken voice too well, her brain imprinted with the misery of a girl who had just wanted to play the sport she loved and couldn’t. And even if everything between them resembles the remnants of an earthquake, Azzi can’t help but be just a little bit happy for Paige. 
The handshake line is better this time around with no one being unnecessarily hostile. One team is too happy to care and when Muhl briefly hugs her, Azzi can’t help but be a little shocked by the affection. Her team is too despondent to be mad, and Angela briefly nods at Paige when shaking her hand, and gets a reassuring grin in return. Azzi has to force herself not to run away, if only for decorum’s sake, once she and Paige finally get to each other. Trying to keep herself steady, she reaches out her hand to counter Paige’s outstretched arms. The smile falls a little bit from Paige’s face as a more resigned expression takes its place. 
“Good game Bueckers,” Azzi manages to muster out. 
The last name stings but Paige does her best to not let it show, “good game Az.”
***
When there’s a knock on the door to her hotel room a little bit after 10pm, Azzi knows exactly who it is. The look that Charisma gives her as she goes to open it, suggests that she does too. 
“Oh thank fucking god, I thought maybe y’all left already,” and there it is, Paige voice echoing through her room and from where she’s perched on the edge of bed, her feet dangling over the side, Azzi catches a brief glimpse of the UConn point guard. 
“Had a little bit of a transportation issue. We’re not leaving til tomorrow morning,” Charisma explains, “what are you doing here Paige?”
Paige shuffles her feet nervously at the doorway, peering over Charisma’s frame in the doorway to catch sight of Azzi, “can I talk to Azzi?”
“First you kick my ass in the final four, and now you wanna kick me out of my own room?” Charisma asks, voice light but there’s an edge of seriousness to it. 
“I-uh-” 
“Az,” Charisma turns to Azzi with a questioning look, and Azzi sighs at having all the attention on her, “you wanna talk to her?”
Say no. Say yes. Her head fights with itself. And for the last few months, Azzi’s done well with listening to the logical part of her brain, diligently sticking to letting go. But that had only been easy to do because Paige hadn’t actually been there. Now that she is, with bright hopeful eyes fixed on Azzi, well, this time the emotional side wins out. She nods her head in yes at Charisma and Paige seems to glow all over. 
“You’re lucky it’s me and not Angela or Kiki or any of the other girls,” Charisma warns, “but I swear to god Bueckers if I come back and there’s a single tear-”
“Then you have my permission to fucking murder me,” Paige vows, her face a paragon of sincerity. 
Charisma nods once, stepping aside to let Paige in. The Bruin’s point guard looks at Azzi once more for confirmation and then, satisfied by the small smile Azzi shoots at her, she leaves the room, letting the door shut behind her. And then it’s just Paige and Azzi and the myriad of unspoken thoughts that seem to always linger between them. 
“Hi,” Paige says softly. 
Azzi stares up at her with tired eyes, “shouldn’t you be celebrating or something?”
“Still one more game to go. Gotta lock in for that first.”
“Then go do that. What are you doing here?”
Paige flinches at the harsh tone and Azzi feels a wave of guilt come over her. She doesn’t mean to be so hostile but she’s scared that if she gives in just a little, all of her will go tumbling down. 
“Sunday is the most important game of my life,” Paige says quietly. 
“I know- I know it means a lot to you.”
“It does,” Paige nods, as she takes a step forward, hesitating for a second, before she drags a foot stool over, so she can sit right in front of Azzi, “will you stay for it?”
“That’s not-,” Azzi sucks in a deep breath, her senses muddle by having Paige so close to her again, “I thought I was clear about- about us.’
“You were but I thought I was clear with my texts,” Paige counters. 
“Paige please.”
“I just-,” Paige pauses, leaning forward and staring intently at Azzi, “I don’t know how the national championship is gonna go. I don’t know if we’re gonna win or lose but I just- I know that no matter what happens, I want you there. Because if I���m gonna end up fucking crying, then I want it to be on your shoulder. And if I’m gonna end up celebrating, I want it to be in your arms. I just- I just want you there. With me. Always.”
Everything else floats away and for a moment, all Azzi knows is Paige, and the warmth that reverberates through her body at the earnestness in those words. If she could, she’d capture that feeling in a bottle and keep it forever. Because moments are fleeting. And when her brain catches up to her heart, and that voice in her head is back to echoing it won’t last, Azzi feels cold all over again. 
“You don’t believe me,” disappointment echoes in Paige’s voice; she’s always been a little too perceptive of Azzi’s emotions, “you think I don’t mean it?”
“I think you mean it now. I don’t think you’ll mean it forever,” Azzi shrugs. 
Paige is quiet, nerves on full display, as she cautiously reaches for Azzi’s hands with both of her own, an audible sigh of relief floating out of her lips when Azzi lets her. 
“I know I fucked up,” she begins quietly, thumb caressing Azzi’s palms, each trace sending jolts of electricy through the younger girl’s body, “like really fucked up and I get why you think that. I get why- why you’re so scared to believe me. And I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
A teardrop rolls down Paige’s cheek, falling onto their intertwined hands, and Azzi feels herself flinch, her own eyes beginning to glisten. 
“If I could go back in time, I’d change so many fucking things. I’d go back to the beginning- back to your room the night before you went to LA and- and I’d tell myself to shut the fuck up. I’d tell you that I supported you- that I understood that you weren’t choosing UCLA over me- and I’d- I’d tell you that it didn’t matter how many fucking miles away from me you were- we’d survive it. But I can’t- I can’t change the past. I can’t change that we fought. I can’t change that- that I was a fucking idiot for ignoring you for a year. I can’t change that I was a dumbass for leaving that morning.”
Tears are freely streaming from both of their eyes now as they grip each other’s hands tightly. There’s something cathartic about finally being able to cry, about finally being able to mourn the loss of what could have been together.And it feels a little bit like healing. 
Paige looks up at Azzi through watery eyelashes as she continues to speak, her voice wrecked with emotion, “and I’m not gonna make promises about how I’ll never do shit to hurt you again because god knows I can be really fucking stupid.”
They let out simultaneous giggles at that and Azzi can feel something in herself unravelling. 
“But what I can promise is that if you let me, every day- every fucking day that I live- I will try. To not hurt you. To make it up to you. To fix this. To fix us. And I can promise, that I will never ever fucking run away from you again. I know- I know it’s gonna be hard but I swear- I fucking swear- that I will stay right here and face it with you.”
“Paige,” Azzi whispers helplessly. It’s everything she’s wanted to hear and it’s too much. The voices in her head are too loud again, screams of she’ll hurt you, she always does, let her go colliding with shouts of it’s Paige, it’s your Paige, hold on to her. 
“You said- you said you were tired of fighting alone but you never- you never have to do that again because- because I’m here now. Fuck- Azzi I’m here. And I know- I know there’s so much we have to talk about and so much we still have to fucking deal with. But we can do that- we can- we can deal with anything. Because it’s us. Paige and Azzi. We can do anything. Together.”
Paige presses her forehead to Azzi’s, pulling their interlocked hands to her chest. They’re breathing in sync and Azzi can feel the thrum of Paige’s heart beat against her fingertips. Azzi’s eyes close of their own accord, as Paige’s lips brush over hers, her next words coming out in a breathless whisper. 
“Believe in me- believe in us just one more time, please.”
66 notes · View notes
blublublujk · 2 days
Text
nobody knows (2)
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
-> part 1
word count: 3k
genre: established relationship (hard dom x slutty sub)
pairing: hoseok x reader and jungkook x reader
summary:
a few minutes pass as you entertain yourself on some random game on your phone before he messages again. daddy: if you even think of actually going out with a friend i’ll chop their dick off.  me: who said it would be a man?  daddy: have fun then baby don't stay out too late! 
warnings: [please read if you are sensitive] hard dom hoseok!!, needy sub reader!!, hoseok is actually sweeter this time, cheating ig?, reader gets her period, explicit sexual content: idk how i forgot this last time but DADDY KINK, thumb sucking, blowjob, throat-fucking, pictures during sex, shy awkward virgin jungkook, sexting, cum on panties, suggestive language
a.n: i'd let this hoseok ruin my fucking life. this is so fun. can you tell he's my bias >.< tbh im making up all plot on spot i wanted to explore the actual relationship first before we see anything else of jk x reader. hoseok can be sweet... he needs to fuck the reader already!!! anyways thanks for being very patient with me. see you on the next one ^.^
—> m.list
—> find me on ao3 & twt
--
“baby.” hoseok’s lips are warm against your cheek, hot breath hitting the soft skin. “i’m off to work.”
your voice is groggy, hair a mess, but it doesn’t stop you from flinging out of bed in a pout. “already? you said we could do breakfast.”
“yeah, well plans changed. i really needa finish this song i’m working on. i’ll be back before dinner. no promises though.” hoseok doesn’t hesitate to say the words, he doesn’t look back as he fixes his collar and brushes fingers through his bed hair. an apology would be nice, but it never comes. 
this is the third time this week hoseok misses breakfast, much less makes it to dinner. somehow always managing to create more work for himself and keep busy while you rot away in the dormitory. it wasn’t fair to you, though you can’t really say you didn’t sign up for this. you knew exactly what this lifestyle came with, fame and money only meant hoseok would never truly be yours as you are his and you had to simply respect that. as sad and lonely as you can be at times. 
“but daddy—” 
“not now angel, you’ll be good for me right?” and just like that you succumb to his strong, firm demeanor. he digs his thumb into the fat of your cheeks, flicking your bottom lip. hoseok licks his own, watching your mouth take his thumb. immediately he feels your warm tongue, sucking him in like a vice, mouth so pliant and fuckable. 
he takes that as a ‘yes daddy’ the way you look up at him while you suck on his thumb like the sweet girl you are. eyes heavy and lustful. 
well, if he isn’t gonna do breakfast with you as he promised, you’ll get yours right now. two can play the same game, but only one wins in the end. something tells you that you fall victim to the game anyways, it was never yours to win. 
your hands find his waistband as you look up to him with hopeful eyes. he’ll probably be late if he plays this game, but it’s too much fun to resist. plus, which man on earth is known for rejecting a blowjob. certainly not this one. 
hoseok tugs his pants down, allowing you to pull down his boxers as his cock springs to life. he takes his thumb out of your mouth and caresses your cheek carelessly, smearing your own spit all over it. the things he would do for that face, so pretty and willing. and all fucking his.
you get to work and on your knees immediately. grabbing his cock in your hands, you lick and suck the tip while hoseok throws his head back, feeling you slurp him down. he fails to resist the temptation to fuck your throat so with no warning he holds a tight grip of your hair and forces your head down. mouth hot and tight around him, wetting his cock so nicely. 
eyes springing tears already, but alas he’s not gentle. he fucks your throat and you feel him grow larger in your mouth, drooling spit all over yourself. “fuck baby, you’re perfect.”
you moan airily, struggling to breathe as he thrusts harder, throat stretching for him and him only. just like you were made for it. 
he groans, feeling that warm wet grip swallowing around him. “just like that, such a slut for it. don’t think you deserve my cum.”
you shake your head profusely, sad-eyes looking up at him while sharp eyes mirror your own. his lips tug at the end and he’s smirking watching you desperately beg for it. 
he releases his grip, spit instantly drips from your mouth, covering yourself with your own juices. it’s a mess, but you both love it for different reasons. his dick stands tall and proud, swollen and wet around the tip. 
he starts to fuck his own fist, thanks to you, he doesn’t even got to spit on it anymore. his dick is wet plenty. he watches your lustful eyes crave for it, practically foaming at the mouth for it. though you are still gasping for air, you wish he would just fuck it out of you again. you want him so so so bad. 
your hands try to reach up at him, but he slaps them away, he isn’t rough and it doesn’t really hurt, but the warning is enough for you to drop them back down. your hands start to rub against your bare thighs, iching to release your own arousal. 
“baby’s horny?” it’s like he’s teasing you, almost laughing in your face, his cock is so close to your face you can still taste it. 
you instantly nod though with hopes that he’ll help you out. 
“yeah? you need daddy’s cock inside you?” hoseok taps his cock against your cheek, pre-cum smearing onto it. it’s cruel the way he toys with his food, but what can he do when you react so beautifully to it. you’re just too easy. 
“yes. plu-please.” you whine. 
“yes what.” he barks.
“yes d-daddy. i want it so bad.” 
you hear him hum pleased, as he continues to jack himself off, he’s getting close and you know it, because his eyes start to hood and he’s breathing heavier. all the more of a reason you wish he would just shove it in you, your pussy is dripping wet for it. if only he were to see himself, he would never stop fucking you!
“stand up.” he orders.
fucking finally.
with wobbly legs you stand and he rough pulls down your shorts. a hand still heavy on his cock, gripping the fuck out of it. 
“let me see inside those pretty panties.” 
hoseok wastes no time to nut his seed all over the inside of it, covering your bare cunt with his juices and dripping all over the fabric. you both look down as his cum decorates the inside of your panties so beautifully, both panting at the sight. “stay there.” 
the taller tugs his pants back up and grabs his phone. he pulls you in for a sudden quick kiss before he takes a picture of the mess he made. “such a perfect sub.” 
with another kiss, he puts his phone away and grabs your wrists, tugging your hands off your panties. your panties sit back so prettily and wet against your pussy now. they are sticky and it feels pretty gross against your skin, but you start to forget about it when you feel hoseok’s tongue down your throat. 
he finally pulls away with one final kiss, pulling your shorts back on. “go back to bed baby.”
“but ‘m not tired.” you mumble, still horny as ever. cunt begging for cock. anything. 
“don’t pout angel. it won’t get you anywhere. i’ll be back later. behave.” and with that, hoseok leaves to work (or so he says), leaving you wet and lonely. 
to no surprise, hoseok in fact does not make it to dinner. to your surprise, he’s kind enough to leave you a sweet text message instead though. 
daddy: [attached image] miss that perfect pussy. you’re so beautiful you know that?
me: you missed dinner
daddy: that’s no way to talk to me angel  i said no promises
me: yeah well, i’ll just have dinner with a friend instead ig
daddy: who? 
me: wouldn’t you love to know.
daddy: you know i’ll find out anyways?  like you could hide anything from me
me: you’re an ass
daddy: you are what you eat
you don’t bother to reply nor entertain his not so funny jokes, but your phone buzzes again to absolutely no surprise. however the following message makes your heart fall straight out of your ass. 
daddy: i’m sorry angel.  i promise to be home for dinner tomorrow. is that better? 
the pit of your stomach burns, really it’s the bare fucking minimum, but you can’t help the way it flips into butterflies. a smile forming on your face. 
me: yes daddy
daddy: good girl the very best
a few minutes pass as you entertain yourself on some random game on your phone before he messages again.
daddy: if you even think of actually going out with a friend i’ll chop their dick off. 
me: who said it would be a man? 
daddy: have fun then baby don't stay out too late! 
hoseok’s messages make you giggle so hard. sometimes you forget this is the person you are with, the one you share every little moment with, and the one that would absolutely kill you despite your entire past with him for thinking about someone else. someone younger, bit buffer, close to them. the person they’ve always known all their life. and here you are contemplating doing it all over again. it’s scary how thrilling it all feels. a pawn in your own game and you don’t even know it. 
luckily for you and unfortunately for hoseok, there’s no dinner and especially no friend, but there is jungkook. he’s home again, earlier than everyone, as expected. 
the younger follows the same routine he has as soon as he gets home. he immediately hops into a quick shower and doesn’t come out to eat till way later. busying himself with who knows what. 
jungkook is a bit awkward, more nervous, and careful around you since the whole movie situation, the one where your tits were out by the end of it while he was driving holes into them with his eyes. 
it makes you a bit frustrated. at this point, you're begging for attention and he hardly budges, but you also understand his fear. 
“that was good noona, thanks.” jungkook picks up his plate, rushing to wash it off and lock himself back in his room. 
you hardly ever make dinner like that, but you figured it would be a great way to pass time and an excuse to get off your ass and do something that doesn’t involve rotting away in bed, lonely and horny. and all very much alone. this way, you don’t have to be alone. this way, jungkook fills the empty spot and he doesn’t even know it. 
jungkook is quick in the kitchen and you hate it. you obviously weren’t gonna let this happen, not under these circumstances, and not in this way. not after everything. “jungkookie, can you do me a favor?” 
“s-sure.” his hands are wet from the sink as he places the plate down, eyes hesitant to look up. 
“it’s just, i just got my period and my stomach hurts. a lot.” a hand caresses your tummy lightly, putting pressure where it hurts. thankful that your period arrived after this eventful/uneventful morning. 
“oh… im sorry. can i help?” he asks to be nice, not denying you a damn thing. 
“can you massage it?” you plead without shame.
“me-e?” he stutters, pointing at himself, flushing pink.
“mhm, who else silly!” 
jungkook awkwardly laughs. “yeah okay. lay down noona, i’ll try to make things better.” 
with that your back goes on the couch while you look up at him with sweet eyes. “thank you jungkookie, it feels much better when someone else is doing it.” 
“yeah, of course.” he lamely replies. 
very carefully, you slide your shirt up, revealing much more skin than intended (not really though). the mounds of your breasts sit so pretty like this and it leaves nothing to his imagination. your underboob peaks through and jungkook holds back a sharp gasp.
he refocuses on his mission, hands shaking as he brings them closer. “m gonna touch you now noona.”
though it wasn’t his intention, his suggestive usage of wording nearly makes you moan. you bite your lip to prevent it. 
“please.” you whisper calmly, desperately. 
jungkook nods and cold hands touch your tummy. they are a bit stiff at first because he doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but he starts getting a hang of it when he hears you lightly hum pleasantly. 
he explores your skin, with every noise you make filtering his ear he finds what you enjoy and don’t. he rubs feather-like circles against your soft skin, thumbing over curves and your plushy stomach. you feel so warm in his hands and that makes him feel so good, too good. and the fact that he’s never ever done this before. jungkook thinks it's possible he can cum in his pants, just by doing this alone! he’s really, really lame. 
“feels so good, jungkookie.”
“yeah…” he strains, hands heavier on your stomach, but they warm up feeling so nicely against your skin. 
“can you- lower, can you go lower?” 
his hands are barely above, around your belly button, avoiding anything further down, not sure if it is for his own sake or yours. he’s scared and it’s obvious by the lack of movement. 
jungkook avoids your eyes as his hands freeze, hands weighing down on where he was last massaging. “wan— want me lower?”
“yes.” surely he knows what you mean. “please.” 
“oh- okay.” the younger says nothing more. 
jungkook resumes his movements, his hands going much further down your stomach, just right above your waistband. he thumbs your underwear, trying very hard to hold his breath whenever his fingertips come in contact with the thin yellow fabric whilst still rubbing patterns into your lower belly. he’s hoping you don’t hear how heavy and much faster his breathing has gotten. he’s struggling for air, face beet red. not sure if it’s out of embarrassment or his own humiliation driving him nuts. 
he’s not sure what he’s doing anymore. or what has gotten into him. it’s like his dream is set right before his eyes and yet he knows he really shouldn’t be here and doing this. much less with someone like you, but for whatever reason he can’t stop. 
“f-feels better?” jungkook asks, light-airy voice. 
“much, much better.” you reply truthfully, your stomach buzzing warmly. your eyes take in every movement on his face. from his eyes to his nose, to the way his cheeks puff as he breathes. he’s beautiful. much more when you have him this close, and nothing is stopping you from what you do next. 
jungkook’s breath hitches when he feels your soft lips on his cheek. eyes nearly bulging out his sockets because he doesn’t believe his reality. this just can’t be. no one has ever shown this much interest in him. especially not someone as untouchable as you.
it lasts no longer than ten seconds, but jungkook turns into jelly within that time. you aren’t sure why you do it, but it’s the only reasonable way you could possibly come up with to show your appreciation for all he’s done. for being sweet and patient. he’s too generous for his own good. 
“thank you jungkookie, you’re so sweet.” he doesn’t even realize you’ve already pulled away and his hands are no longer feeling your heated flesh until he’s watching you walk away, hiding behind the door to your room. hoseok’s room. yours and hoseok’s room. he shouldn’t be feeling like this, but he can’t help the way his stomach twists in knots. 
jungkook is left completely speechless, confused. 
he shamefully walks back to his own room with no other word, skipping his night routine completely. fuck skincare, he can go a night without it. he’ll manage. 
that night, hoseok arrives fairly early. well at least, earlier than usual. you’re still awake when you feel his hand on your hip, feeling his lips pecking the tip of your ear. 
“you’re home?” 
“yeah, got off a bit earlier than expected. did you eat?” he asks quietly, thoughtful enough to not disturb others. hoseok’s lips still softly kissing behind your ear, practically making you melt into the bed. if you could purr, you are more than sure you’d start purring right about now. hoseok has always been very hands-on, it’s what you adore about him. always making it known how much he wants and needs you. 
“i did. have you?” you ask to be polite, though you most likely already know the answer. hoseok may be busy, but he never skips his meals. his discipline is insane. he’s busy, but not ever enough to starve himself. he cares about his mental and physical being just as much as everything else. and he plans on keeping it that way for as long as he lives. 
“yeah. they brought take-out from that one place in downtown you like.” 
that calls for your slightest attention, shifting your face from your pillow to face him, even in the dark your eyes find his. “zuki’s?”
“mhm.” hoseok steals a kiss like this, sharing a breath as he continues. “that very one.”
“lucky.” you pout, sadly with cramps still lingering around your pelvic area. 
“yeah… i brought you some.” he says so nonchalantly. 
the older laughs when he feels you shove yourself, full force onto him, hugging him with all your might. “really?!”
“yes, left it in the fridge for tomorrow.” hoseok pauses, fingers tangled in your blow dried hair and breathes in your sweet fresh scent. “unless you wanna eat a late night meal then be my guest.” 
“well, i just got my period so...” you contemplate that damn meal, almost sorta justifying your not-so-healthy options.
“then let’s go. i’ll sit with you while you eat.” your boyfriend decides for you instead, tugging you up very gently without another word. 
there’s was nothing more to say or decide, hoseok watched as you ate the meal very pleasantly, humming here and there, devouring it all in minutes. you were a very happy, happy girl. and hoseok was a happy man watching you eat so easily. he’d do it all over again if it meant he could see that perfect smile all the time. 
and like that, you forget all about today and what made you upset. you are so stupid to think he could ever not love you and care for you. who else than him. even if you have heavily committed your mistakes, so has he, but he loves you, and nothing else matters. 
but then again, in another room, jungkook is tearing himself up for it. even though, he’s not really at fault. is he? it sure feels like it is anyways. 
at least, it felt that way after beating his cock raw and swollen. flashbacks from earlier crowding his virgin-mind. he’s so so fucked, it’s laughable. pathetic really.
jungkook tries so hard to ignore it and at first he succeeds, but then he hears a bubble of laughter coming from the room beside him and he knows he’s been beaten once again. 
“i love you.” 
“i love you too baby.” 
that’s the last thing jungkook hears before he falls into a deep sleep, eventually succumbing to his exhaustion and overthinking mess. the crowding anxious thoughts die for the first time that night.
79 notes · View notes
mavnagerie · 1 day
Note
HI AAAA
COuld you please make a second part of the 'We can't be friends' with Zoro??? I LOVED IT SM 😭😭
Thank you for your work and time!!!
into you
* pt.2 we can’t be friends
roronoa zoro x reader
part 1, part 2
summary: after finally coming around on his feelings, he just wants to lay with you and love on you. he’s just a loyal dog.
warnings: SMUT. direct sequel to we can’t be friends pt 1, so slight friends with benefits in the past is implied. freaky zoro, not as freaky as haunted tho. unprotected sex (wrap it.) and slight cum kink. oral both ways. very fluffy zoro regardless of the sex. no proofreading, we die like men. very fluffy at the end… sigh
*authors note: requests are open, also i’m so sorry this took so long 😭 life yknow
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zoro held you close in his arms, his warm breath tickling your skin as he placed his face in the crook of your neck.
he held you against the railing of the ship, wanting to hold you close as long as possible, breathing in your smell. he missed the way you smelled, he loved the scent of flowers that seemed to follow you. he was never a huge fan of sweet things but you were always the exception.
“zoro..”
“hm…” he hummed against your body.
“i have to go on lookout… you should go get some rest..” you didn’t wanna push him away from you, you wanted him to stay there, with you in his arms forever. just to know his warmth like how you used to, but you also knew you had your duty to uphold and he desperately needed some rest. he had trained all day from what you assumed, and by the way he had yawned at dinner, he probably didn’t nap much today.
he pulled away, looking down at you. he grabbed your cheeks with his strong hands and placed a kiss against your lips. begrudgingly, he had made his decision to go to bed but not without kissing you dead first. his hands pulled you in close, his kisses were searing against your lips. your hands found his hair, holding him close until he slowly pulled away.
“goodnight princess..” he says with a small smile on his face.
“goodnight, zoro” you smile back, and he’s on his way to the boys sleeping quarters.
as he walked to his quarters and you were finally stuck up in the crows nest, the only thing you could think about for that entire boring long night was zoro. his touch, the way his calloused hands wrapped around you, the way his lips felt against yours and the way his words lingered in your ears like freshly fallen snow on a cold morning.
you missed your zoro. the one who was romantic without realizing but if you called him out he’d blush. you missed the zoro that loved you unconditionally without even realizing or trying. but now you had your love again.
the sun began to rise over the horizon and as the cold crows nest grew ever slightly warmer in the sun, you fell asleep with your head against the glass.. drifting off without even realizing it. the sound of the latch door opening did nothing to even shake you awake. but as zoro pulled himself into the crows nest, he sees you from across the room and sighs to himself with a smile, seeing you passed out.
“oh sweet girl” he mumbled to himself before grabbing his jacket off his shoulders, walking over to your small body and placing it over you. he watched as you curled even more into a ball under his jacket, warm from his body heat. he tried to stay quiet as he began his workout, letting you sleep into the late morning.
as you stirred awake finally, zoro had been on the floor, leaning against the bench close to you, his towel wrapped around his neck as he panted quietly. you watched as his shoulders rose and fell with sweat beading on the back of his neck. he leaned his head back as he heard just a bit of a stir from you. he found your open eyes with his.
“good morning.” he spoke, pushing his hand over his shoulders and into your space. you grabbed his hand gently, your fingers wrapping around two of his.
“good morning..” you spoke with a tired crackle in your voice. he holds your fingers and brings your hand down to his face and kisses your hand
“we should go down and eat some breakfast.” he says sweetly, against your soft skin. you nod and stretch your legs out on either side of him, putting your hands in his damp hair to lean over him and kiss his lips.
“zoro..” you say softly against his chapped lips.
“yes, princess?”
“why have you held out on me for so long..” you sigh, your eyes are shut as he kisses you again.
“i don’t know” he says, hes not lying or disinterested, he just.. doesn’t knows. he holds your legs and squeezes them. “but i’ve loved you for so long, i just need to savor you now.” he says as he kisses you again and again before you pull away to be able to stand up.
he takes your hand and helps you stand, pulling his jacket from your legs and pulling it over your arms. he adored the way his jacket just made you seem so small, all warm in his scent. he pulled you close, pressing another kiss to your lips before the two of you clamored down to the kitchen. everyone had eaten but luffy and nami sat at the table talking about plans for the next island. they turned their heads as you both walked in, nami observing zoros hand on your lower back with his jacket over your shoulders.
“it’s almost like the old y/n and zoro..” she said quietly to luffy and luffy just beamed. he was happy he could’ve helped the two of yall come back together.
they watched as the two of you sat down and sanji sighed, finally able to give the two of you your food and finish cleaning up the kitchen from breakfast. the two of you giggled over the semi warm breakfast and it was almost like as before, a long two years ago, where you were practically on top of him.
—————
today was mostly a day of travel, resulting in you sleeping in your bed until you heard a loud clamoring of the collective luffy, usopp and chopper over the spotting of land. knowing this was the island they had been talking about the night before and at breakfast.
waking up from your nap was hell but hearing the sound of gentle knocking at the door almost threw you through hell until the door opened to a tall swordsman coming to wake you up. he saw you were half awake already and smiled as he shut the door behind himself, walking over to you. seeing your pretty little face made his smile linger as he sat at the edge of your bed.
“i don’t feel like getting up” you mumbled as he rubbed your legs over the quilty covers.
“you don’t have to go to the island…” he says, leaning over on the bed, laying down next to you. “you know that i know it’s best to just stay on lookout at the ship” his rough fingers grazing over the softest part of your arm down to your hand. his look is soft and lidded, staring at you with wanting eyes while he intertwines his fingers with yours. his heavy boots lay at the edge of the bed while his long coat exposed his warm chest. his sword’s had long been discarded , probably laying on the outside of the door while his red sash loosened around his belly. noticing all these things through a tired needy haze, you were almost foaming at the mouth over his dense body. something that had changed about him was he became increasingly beefier while you were separated.
your hand let go of his as you placed your hand on his chest.
“take off your boots” you spoke, wanting him to get under the covers with you, closer to you. nothing could change how badly you wanted him against you, to the point where you wish he was just in your skin.
zoro found himself standing up, looming over the bed while he pulled his sash from his belly, his long jacket falling from his shoulders before he pulled his boots off. before laying back down he goes to the door, opening it to grab his swords from outside.
“ME AND Y/N ARE STAYING ON THE SHIP” he shouts before he hears luffy shout an “OKAY” back to him. robin had already guessed why he was in the room with you but nami groaned in frustration knowing she wouldn’t be able to get anything from the room until she got back, listening as the door to the bedroom shut, with an emphasized lock to the door.
zoro found himself crawling under your sheets as you pulled them back, his skin warm against you.
“cmere” he mumbled as he pulled you into a searing kiss, his lips rough against yours. his hands wrapped around you, pulling you against his chest from your small waist. you moaned against his lips as your arms found their way wrapped around his neck, fingers deep in his soft green hair, pulling at it gently.
those rough kisses resulted in his tongue battling wildly against yours. his hands explored your body, pushing up under your shirt in order to unclip your bra before pulling your shirt over your head, breaking the hot kiss.
“sweet girl..” he says in a rough husky voice, throwing your garments elsewhere in the room. his legs placed on either side of your thighs as he kisses down your neck, his rough hands finding the valley of your chest. his hands cupped around your breasts, squeezing them like stress toys, savoring the soft noises leaving your mouth at the touch of his hands.
he brought his mouth down to your chest, gently kissing around the nipple before sucking it into his mouth. leaving kitten licks before sucking on them, satiating a desperate oral fixation. sensitive and tender, his tweaking with his other hand made for a loud little bedroom on the thousand sunny.
the room was dark in the way that your bedroom would be dark mid afternoon with heavy curtains over a sunny window. dark enough to make the sensual situation all the more pleasurable.
your moans were music to his ears. something he hadn’t even tried to coax out of you in years but had yearned for it all this time. he moved his leg, placing one between your legs so he could place his knee up against your throbbing cunt, covered by a pair of silky pajama pants.
he switched nipples, moving to the other in order to spread the wealth amongst your chest. he was smirking against your skin, those moans leaving your mouth did nothing but send blood rushing to his dick, twitching against the inside of his thigh.
honestly if he could just stuff you with his cock and suck on your tits for hours, he would. but he knew that you wanted more, that you needed to be fucked by him so he begrudgingly moved on, pushing his head above the covers in order to see your blushing face. the thick blankets and sheets laid on his shoulders and fell back, leaving his chest bare with a sheen of sweat across his tanned skin. you watched as he pushed his hands underneath the fabric that wrapped around his waist, beginning to undo the belt around his pants.
you were almost salivating watching his large, veiny hands toy with his belt buckle, watching as he finally pulled the belt out of the loops. he threw it off to the side and stood up off the bed, annoyed as he pulled his pants and his haramaki off, discarding them from the floor, leaving him in just his boxers. you could see a dense mass in his boxers, his cock throbbing beneath the fabric.
“you’re not nearly undressed enough” he comments, looking down at your pants that were low on your hips. you stuttered to speak, not having said much since he started in on you.
“fix the problem then, swordsman..” your eyes were fixed on him as he sat at the edge of your bed, leaning over your legs and your waist in order to pull the soft pants from your legs. he noticed a wet patch at the crotch of your pants, but to save your embarrassment, he just licked his lips and continued to stare off at where his precious prize of your soft pussy would be. your face flushed red as you watched him just stare at your covered pussy, waiting on him to take action but he took his sweet time.
he discarded your pants on the floor with the pile of clothes and laid down on the bed before you, pulling your legs over his shoulder as he laid down on his stomach. he inched closer to you, your feet resting on his back as he began placing kisses down the soft skin of your thighs. taking the soft skin between his teeth and sucking at it briefly before continuing closer to your covered core.
he came closer and closer before his fingers found their way up under the elastic of your panties, teasing you while rubbing the warm skin of your hips. he could smell the slick between your legs, sickening and sweet, leaving his mouth watering.
he was teasing you, egging you on as you mentally begged him to just dive in on you. he could almost feel the words hanging on your tongue from across the bed.
“cmon princess.. i know you wanna say something” you could feel his warm breath against your cunt.
“zoro…” you whined. “please touch me.. i’m asking kindly..”
he felt his heart flutter at your voice, your needy voice, just for him. “good girl. you’re so sweet to me” he hummed before kissing your clit through your wet panties. his lips parted as his tongue fell from his mouth, licking a long stripe across your mound, tasting you through the cotton. “you taste so good. can’t wait to take these panties off” he groans, the husk in his voice sending you into a frenzy.
he continues to tease, licking you through the cotton of your panties. his nose presses to your clothed clit as he sucks on your mound, tongue pressed against your hole. you attempt to grind your hips up into his face with no avail as he holds them down. “dont get impatient.” he says sternly as he continues on before sitting up slightly, holding your knees up with him. he grabs a leg and pushes it over his head so he’s holding both of your legs with his strong hand while the other pulls your panties down your thighs, slowly inching them off of from your feet. he watches you blush, embarrassed as he brings your panties to his face, licking them briefly before throwing them into the pile, leaving you entirely naked.
he slowly spreads your legs again, observing the slick that spread in your thighs after he removed your panties. he pulls your leg back over his other shoulder and leans down between your legs again. he’s practically moaning at the site of your dripping cunt. zoro slides down onto his stomach, with your legs over his shoulders, he brings his hands up to your hips to caress them while his thumb slides down in between your folds, spreading them apart, observing your pretty pussy.
he is almost drooling as he watches you bite your lip, holding back whatever you has on your mind or your tongue. his thumb rolls over your clit, eliciting that pretty moan he wanted from you so badly. his head is rested on your thigh, watching the way your pussy throbbed for him wantonly. he enjoyed watching your body beg for him when he knew you wouldn’t verbalize it.
finally he caved, needing to truly taste you, bringing his thumb to his lips, licking it clean before placing his hand back onto your hip and finding himself fade to face with that pussy he needs. pushing your legs apart a little more, he begins with pressing his tongue right up against your clit, the muscle of his tongue formed into a point in order to lick your clit with precision.
your jaw fell slacked as he licked and sucked on your clit, needy moans falling from your lips like a waterfall. you prayed there was no one else on the ship as your hands fell to his head, pulling at his soft green hair. you pulled him closer without realizing. humming against your skin, he used his advantage as another way to pleasure you. noticing the way you twitched against him as he hummed, he continued to do it.
the feeling of you pulling his hair made his dick twitch in his boxers, his humming turning into more guttural moans. zoro used his palms to hold your hips down so you didn’t buck into his face and hurt him, though he could tell by the way you shifted against him, you’d cum if he kept sucking your clit like this.
he moved down to focus on your hole next , his tongue flat against your skin in order to taste your slick before pushing it in. his name fell from your lips like a praise to the heavens, pulling him closer by his hair, begging for him to make you cum. he knew this is what this hair tugging meant but he continued to tease you by just keeping a slow pace. his fingers dug into your soft skin, squeezing the plush of your thighs and hips between his rough fingers.
his hard cock against the bed was insufferable so he decided he needed to make you cum even faster so that he could fuck you like how he thought he deserved. your unabashed moans grew louder as his thumb pressed against your swollen clit to stimulate it while he ate you out.
“zoro.. fuck please…” you cried, words refusing to collect into a proper string of words. “fuck…” you cried. he knew you were close as your hands left his hair and clutched the bedding hard, your legs moving and digging into the bed.
he hummed against your pussy, taking pleasure in the fact that he knew you’d cum soon.
“i’m so close.. zoro im gonna cum..” his dark eyes opened, looking up at you from the comfortable spot he found himself in between your legs. he nodded, humming a sound of approval as he devoured you like a starved man. cries poured from you before your hips were pushed up into his face, crying out for him as you reached your climax. he held you close through your climax, big dense arms wrapped around your soft legs. licking at your cunt through your orgasm until you were finally settling down.
as your shaking halted, he slowly let go of your legs and sat up, his face being drenched. he watched your rising and falling chest, observing the way your eyes lidded and stared up at him. he leaned over and grabbed something from the floor in order to wipe his face. he sat back up and was faced with you grabbing him with your arms around his neck, kissing him hard. “mhh.. zoro” you whispered weakly against his lips. his hands placed on your hips, he pulls you closer against his bare chest.
“you’re so beautiful” he kisses you hard , before moving to your neck again. “and you taste so fucking good..” he brings his hands up to fondle your chest while he kisses and bites at your neck. he feels your hands on his shoulders, pushing him down to relax on his knees while you get down further onto the bed. he’s sat like he’s ready to worship as he watches your soft hands find his waistband to his boxers. he was threateningly big in his boxers, almost striking fear into you as he begin to pull them down.
as you began to pull away his boxers, he crossed his arms over his chest so he wouldn’t be in your way, watching as you observed the green happy trail leading from his belly down to his cock. his cock bounced as you pulled the fabric down to his bent knees. your pussy was drenched again, seeing the dark skin of his cock. a large vein down the side along with a leaking tip. he looked smug, especially with his thick arms crossed over his chest.
“you wanna take them off all the way?” he asked, staring down at you.
“no..” you smiled, wrapping your fingers around his cock. “it can wait” your eyes flicked up to his as you stroked his cock, watching as his lips come apart, a groan falling from them. your pussy was dripping just at the noise that left his lips. your thumb pressed against the head of his cock, smearing the precum before bringing your thumb to you lips to taste him. he watched you with a dark look on his face. watching as you licked your thumb before placing your hand back over his twitching cock.
you stroked him teasingly before leaning forward and gently licking the tip of his cock. he wondered where you had learned all this from just to remember how good you used to be at this on lonely tipsy nights.
as you took him into your mouth, a quiet whimper left him, needy but most of all, needy for you. the urge to grab your head and stuff your face full of his cock was almost overwhelming for him though he resisted as you got adjusted to his size, taking him at your own rate. you hadn’t taken his cock or anyone’s for that matter in two years, it was so hard to even get him in that far so your fingers remained wrapped around the rest of his cock, stroking it.
his rough hands found the back of your head, pulling at your soft hair as you sucked him off, gently pulling the strands to feel something rather than to push you onto his cock. looking up at him through thick eyelashes as soft noises left you from the pulling of your hair. he watched your flushed cheeks and gentle hands handle him with care. your free hand squeezed his dense thigh, nails digging into his skin as you encouraged yourself further onto his cock.
“can i take control, princess?” he asked, looking down at you, barely containing himself as drool began to spill from the sides of your lips, slobbering all over his cock. his hand found your jaw, urging you to look up at him before humming a yes. leaving him twitching in your mouth in response.
he loved having control over you. not in a scary dominating way, but in a ‘l love you so much that i need to be there for you, leading you and protecting you.’ kind of way. his hand at the back of your head pushed you further onto his cock, slowly pushing into your throat. he groaned at the sensation while his hand at your jaw, guided you along as well. he could barely contain himself as he began to slowly fuck your face, his hips shifting while his cock slid in and out of your warm mouth. “such a good girl” he praises you under his breath. “yes princess.. take that cock” he says deeply, your nose pressed against the dark green hair at the base of his cock.
he tried to contain himself, taking it slow, but he couldn’t. it was impossible. he placed his hand firmly on your head and began to push you down onto his cock at a faster pace. “fuck..” he groans, throwing his head back. he begins fucking your throat, moans and strangled groans leaving his lips your warm throat coats his cock. your two hands were planted on his thighs, stabilizing yourself as he fucked your mouth. he wouldn’t let up, just battering your throat until tears formed in the corners of your eyes. he was lost in the pleasure, becoming louder and louder as he lost control. he was moaning louder than you had before, his voice was beautiful, your pussy was drenched at this point but you couldn’t focus on anything but the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of your mouth.
“oh my god… fuck i’m gonna cum baby..” if he remembers anything, he remembered everytime he’d fuck your pretty face, you’d swallow his cum. but he’d ask anyways.
slowing down, groaning from the stunt in his orgasm. “can i cum down that pretty throat, gorgeous?” he asked through heavy breaths, watching you nod pathetically. he continues on, acknowledging your response, pulling your head onto his cock. he got a few more heavy thrusts in before your nose was pressed right against his hips, listening to the sound of him groan in pleasure while his cum poured down your throat. he called out your name, your hair tangled in his fingers.
slowly, he relaxes, pulling your cute face off of his cock in order for you to properly swallow his load of cum. you coughed as he pulled you off of his dick, wiping the spit from your mouth as his hand gently grabbed your jaw, wiping your tears with his thumb.
“did i hurt you?” he asked, leaning down to you, kissing your cheek.
“no.. but i’ll be sore tomorrow” you kiss his lips , an intimate gesture.
“that’s okay princess.. i’ll make sure chopper helps you out and that cook makes you whatever you want.” he pushes his hands up under your belly, picking you up so he could lay you down on your back. finally he can stand up and pull his boxers all the way off. his cock slowly starting to harden again with arousal, his thoughts still cloudy with need.
your knees bent while you watched him stretch while standing off the bed. zoro inches back into the bed with you, it and the room feeling damp with the arousal and sweat the two of you had already produced. zoro grabbed your legs, and wrapped them around his waist. pulling your hips up into his thighs.
his cock was tall and thick again. he placed it over your cunt, not ready to push it in so it rested underneath your belly button as he leaned over you to kiss you again, coax you into taking his cock. he knew you were needy, he could see the way your pussy dropped for him again after sucking his cock. his kisses were slow and sensual, his lips danced with yours until you were more focused on making out with him than you were being stuffed full of his cock.
“oh zoro..” you sigh against his lips, your tongue then pressing against his, sharing your spit.
“what is it princess?” the two of you are quiet, intimate, taking up as little space as possible while he’s pressed up against you and you’re curled up against him.
“i love you. i love you so much, i feel like a sappy idiot saying this to you right now but i needed to tell you” your words were heavy, with emotions you had built up the entire afternoon but not many words had been exchanged in the constant fucking.
“i love you more, my princess” he says, his lips pressed to your cheek, just feeling your warmth. he loved the way your breath felt against his ears. the way your voice sounded so close to him. he loved when you laid together and he could feel the way your chest vibrated while speaking. loving every bit of you.
his hand found the base of his cock, moving his hips back so the tip was lined up with your entrance, prodding at it, begging for entry. “are you ready?” he says , close to your ear as well.
“yes..” you sigh longingly, awaiting the feeling of his cock filling you up. your toes curl as he finally pushes the head in, his girth unimaginable. his name fell from your lips, resulting in the moan leaving his lips to grow louder.
“good girl.. take it nice and slow…” he mumbles as he slowly pushes his cock into your soft pussy. not only are you struggling around his cock but he’s struggling… in heaven, as he pushes into your tight cunt. “so fucking tight..” his words were stuck between his clenched teeth, trying not to moan so loudly in your ear.
he had a hand planted on the bed while another wrapped around your waist to hold you close to him, wanting as much of your skin against his as possible. your hands were around his neck, placed against his broad shoulders, palms slapped flat against his skin as he pushed into you.
after the adjustment, he opened his eye to see you, seeing your beautiful face reveling in the pleasure.
“is it okay if i move now?” he asks, bringing that hand that was under your waist up to your face to stroke your cheek with his thumb. your eyes opened to see his face.
“yes…please”
he smiles. “that’s my girl” he kisses you softly before placing that strong hand on your back once more, holding you close to him as he pulls his hips back and begins to fuck his cock into you. starting slow but getting harder as he gets lost in the pleasure.
holding himself up, his elbow buckles a little resulting in him sitting up, leaning back onto the balls of his feet as he pulled your hips onto his cock. using your body rather than using his own hips. his hands wrapped around your hips again, watching as his cock pummeled your cunt.
your moans were loud and whiny, tears beginning to form in your eyes as he got rougher. though he noticed the tears and began to slow down, being sweeter to your body. “n-no zoro.. harder please” he heard your beautiful pleas, grabbing your legs, pushing them over his shoulder before he leaned over you, fucking you even harder.
his forehead fell forward, pressed against yours as he fucked you into a frenzy, his balls slapping against your ass. he was driven past the edge, absolutely destroying your pussy, lost in the pleasure between his legs. he was moaning as loudly as you, his voice loud and heavy. challenging your girly whimpers and moans.
hot breath against each others flushed faces while he bent you in half, split on his cock. he could feel the way you were tightening on his cock, he knew you were close as your nails dug into his skin after your arms wrapped back around his neck.
“you getting close princess?” he says through his heavy panting.
“mhm” he hears you through the loud slapping of skin and moans in the pirate ships room.
“oh good girl… cum all over my cock..” he urges you on, fucking you a little faster, becoming unorganized and scattered in his thrusts as he grew closer as well.
“i-im so close..” forming a sentence became difficult again, cockdrunk with a fuzzy brain.
“good girl” he chants with praise, his chants finally pushing you over the edge as your nails dug into his skin again, tightening around him as you were hit with an earth shattering orgasm. his name was like praise as you cried out for him while he continued to pound you through your orgasm, wanting to fill you with his thick cum.
“you can take some more can’t you?” he says against your skin as he pushes in a little closer, pushing your knees against your chest. he was a little feral at this point, just needing to fill you. “fuck i’m gonna fill up this pretty pussy” he groans as he gets even more disorganized, throwing you for a loop.
“yes… please fill me up..” throwing your head back into the pillow, his head found its place in your neck, throwing his hips into you until he finally released, his cock all the way in your tight pussy. tip kissed right up against your cervix that he had been bullying, filling you full of his hot cum. he groaned loudly into your skin, biting down on it as he reveled in your pussy, causing another weak moan to leave you.
he had to sit there, skin against your for a minute before he could get up. when he did, he tried to relax your legs off of his shoulders, being placed at his sides while he watched that ring of cum around his cock as he pulled out. pulling out, his cum drips from your pussy, but he watches like it was his favorite tv show.
massaging your thighs with his palm, he looked down at your beautiful face. “you okay, princess?” and as you nod, he leaned down to your pussy, licking that dripping cum from it and sitting up to your face. pulling you into a kiss, spitting that cum into your mouth. he hears your muffled moans against his lips, feeling his dick twitch again. though he tried to ignore it, you had been through enough today.
he pulled away, finally standing up again, seeing you as a sweaty mess. “oh sweet girl” he says under his breath. “you’re a mess, let me go run you a bath and i’ll come get you.”
you don’t seem to have a choice as you watch him pull his clothes on, at least his pants. when leaving the room, he gives you another quick, innocent kiss and finally unlocks the door and steps out. he realized how much the room just oozed sex as he stepped into the fresh air. observing the ship along with the island off the horizon for a second, he moved on and went to start a bath.
while he had been in the bathroom, a few of the strawhats began to show back up on the ship and while zoro was on his way back to get you, he walked past luffy and usopp who were unloading stuff for usopp to take to his workshop.
“he’s half naked and has messy hair” says usopp. “that means nothing.” says luffy. and as zoro walks past them, his back turned to him, they see the dark red scratch marks down his back.
“HAH.” usopp looks at luffy. “give me the hundred berries”
“that means nothing, he could’ve been attacked by a bear.” luffy grumbles as he searches for the hundred berries him and usopp always just shared between each other from random bets.
zoro opened the door to see you with your panties on and a shirt, pulling your sheets off the bed. he walks over to you, leaving the door open as he wraps his arms around your waist. “i’m taking you to that bath, i’ll clean this up after..” he smiles down at you, gentle and kind for such a scary man. he kisses you again, not wanting his lips to leave yours before he scoops you up into his arms and carries you, strips you and lays you in that bath, watching as you relax into the warm water.
never in your life, in your time of sneaking off together under tipsy celebrations of complete missions, the days you had been tangled up with him and luffy while healing from whatever you had been dragged into by the strawhats in that warm bed on the going merry, or the days of him teaching you fighting techniques under the warm sun on that top deck, had you thought the lingering kisses and touches, along with the kind friendly gestures would ever lead you to a relationship like this.. although, it should’ve a long time ago.
it’s no wonder everyone was so confused by the odd separation between the two of you once you all had reunited.
roronoa zoro, the strawhats swordsman, loved you more than the world. you knew that by the way he sat there with his hand in the tub, holding your hand as he fell asleep on the outside of the tub against the wall as you relaxed, shaking the sore muscles early.
“i love you zoro..” your voice was quiet, as soft as the blankets that would cover the two of you as you slept in the crows nest that night.
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kel-lance · 23 hours
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Stepdad Nanami
——MDNI——GROOMING, not really incest, Age gap, manipulation, broken home, slut shaming (at ur mom lol), drug mention—————-
You knew your mom’s marriage had about 3 years at most, you had to give it toher that 5 with the same man would have been a new record if she was only with him for that time.
It wasn’t your business. If you had anything to say the men would blame you and say you were just like her. 
You didn’t care about those guys, and they never lasted long with your mother anyway. It was like this for the first 16 years of your life until your mom met a handsome man, who became your stepfather after 2 years of dating your mother 
He was always nice to you, he did everything a good dad should. He got you a car, went all out on your birthday, he wasn’t tying to win you over, he was just that great, he made you change your mind about men. (maybe it was just the kind you mother kept running to)
It was heartbreaking the day he say you down, before he could explain his face sank. He covered his eyes and sighed as he explained that he’s serving your mom with divorce papers. he feels bad to bring you into this but he had to ask
You’re an adult now, you can make your own decisions, but I wanted to give you the chance to get away from her. I don’t mean any offense, but I know for a fact she’s going to use you or worse.
he was right on the money, sometimes she used you to lure in those strange men, where she’d threaten to tell their wives or police what they thought they were doing with you. It was just her type, people who could compare her to parts of herself. In this case, she was sick enough to use her daughter as bait.
You were safe though, it never got further than forceful kisses to tape as proof. That hag just had it out for you but would never consider sharing.
You immediately take his hand as you wanted to move out for years. You’re 21 but she’s had control over you. People always say just leave, you’re an adult so she has no power.
Try living your life as a flea in a jar or a frog in a growing boiling pot, there’s a whole world out there and yet you were taught your limits. 
Your eyes pleaded for him to take you away. You didn’t care, you felt closer to him than anyone. You knew it could be wrong, but he said it himself, you’re an adult now. And your mother wouldn’t be upset about sharing since he’s leaving her. 
You climb onto his lap and lay your head on his neck, his hand now slid down his face, covering his mouth as his other hand patted your head closer to him.
“Don’t worry. You’re safe with me.” He promised. 
The next week sure were hectic. You had to plan out what to take, gathering all your important documents and essentials. 
Nanami daddy got a studio for you both, in a matter days you had everything moved out of the house while your mom was on her bender. Her lapses of being with one man for months then going to whoever after was just part of her fun. She didn’t need them for anything other than attention.
Sometimes you wonder what your father was like, if he could’ve treated you better than her if she didn’t have u trapped in her body for months. U don’t want to know what she did while pregnant with you either. 
You were given this chance. Your stepdad leaving, and he was taking you with him. He saw what kind of life you both had. He found no sympathy for her as she was the adult. He stayed for you. 
A child should be cared for, loved. He didn’t get that from you at all when you first met. Just 16 and you avoided him like the plague. it gave him an indication of who was usually around.
He didn’t lure you out with gifts or make the first move. He just entertained your mother, as he did find something amusing with her. She was fun, but at home she’s a terrible mom and that wasn’t anything he found respectable. 
It wasn’t until the 4th month that he was still around that you just found it weird. No ones usually around this long. Mom was probably having a lot of fun with this idiot you thought.
The 6th month came and you started to come out when he was around. If he was in the kitchen, you wouldn’t wait for him to leave the space before making it yours. It was your house after all, you were going to remind him.
It was weird, but you were getting jealous of him being around. Your mom couldn’t stick to one thing, much less take responsibility and take care of you. Why was he so special? Why did she /want/ to see him?
You felt hatred grow in you as he noticed the posters on your wall, the music you played, how you dressed. For your 18th, he’d gotten you tickets to one of your favorite band’s shows. How the hell did he- and the small gifts like stickers of said posters, he made it so you weren’t surprised when you received yet another reward after accomplishing something, even the smallest thing. “Because you deserve it.”
You didn’t know if it weirded you out, that he was being so nice to you, or that he was your mom’s fiancé and you had him under you. 
That hate boiled over one day and you just had to get it out somehow. He was always patient with you, as you asked to talk to him. It surprised him, but it was definitely a step forward. 
He sits on the same side of the table as you, facing each other, your opposite arms touching the table.
“Are you upset about the wedding?”
You don’t say anything, your eyes darting, answering his question.
“I’m sorry (y/n), but it’s for the best. (M/n) said you’ve seemed happier since we got together.” Your stomach sank. “I could keep-“
You grasp out for his dress shirt sleeve, looking up at him, somewhat between crying and pouting, asking him to stop talking. 
His eyes widen. “(Y/n)…” You take his hand, bringing it to your body. You place his palm under your shirt, watching his face go from confused to flustered. His stoic personality wavering, you hold onto his arm and jump onto his lap. 
You could already feel it, he was so hard under you. 
“(Y/n)!” He takes his hand back, putting you back onto your chair. His stern look scared you. He’s never looked like that around you, only because you were always well behaved, or rather just kept to yourself. He never expected this from you. But you were your mother’s daughter. 
His hand around the wrist you let him feel you with. You didn’t know if you had just fucked up big time. Was the wedding off? You just wanted him to yourself and had to let him know. 
The look you gave him almost made him feel bad for treating you right the past few years. 
you werent used to that, you didn’t know any better. the anger you were feeling was from a lot of things. why did someone like your mother get to marry someone like him? 
Why weren’t there more people like him? If there were you would have been saved a long time ago, but instead, you’re giving it all to the first person who’s shown you you’re more than an extension of your mother. 
Thankfully he was just a man, and that yearnful, pathetic, desperate look a young girl could give to melt a man’s morals, he kissed you.
He keeps kissing you, almost like he was teaching you how he liked it, you didn’t mind, you didn’t care about anything else. Your mom could walk in right now and you’d show off how much better you were for nanami. 
That didn’t have to happen though. As his large hands found their way to your hips and he slowly brings you back to his lap. And after that day you were his. 
He stopped himself so many times to not take you just yet though. It wasn’t until the weeks leading up tot he wedding that he wanted you more than ever. And you’ve been more than patient. Only getting by with his touch and words of encouragement. 
You didn’t get why he still went through with the small wedding, maybe to just show off to everyone else, mislead them that he’s a good man, marrying into a good family, with an honest job and whatever else to solidify the lie. 
the next 2 years being the best you’ve ever had, up until your mothers alcoholism started to catch up with her. Her need to find solace in addictions, whether it was the validation of men, gambling, sex, any other drug, she was a mess. Everyone believed Nanami would be able to fix her, but her last blackout caused you to get a sprained wrist and black eye. That was when nanami had enough. 
Spoiler for part 2: Nanami's divorce lawyer fucks his step daughter (Hiromi makes an appearance.)
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hotvintagepoll · 8 hours
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Propaganda
Miriam Hopkins (Design For Living, Trouble in Paradise)—miriam hopkins had great range as an actresses, truly a woman who could play a passionate outburst for either dramatic or comedic effect and sell the ever-loving hell out of it. she's wonderful in the witty and sophisticated comedies she made with ernst lubitsch, great examples of movies that could never have been made after the hays code; the frothy musical comedy the smiling lieutenant where she plays a naive princess who accidentally gets betrothed to maurice chevalier, the polyamory classic design for living where she gary cooper and hot vintage shadow king fredric march are a throuple, and the ineffably exquisite comedic masterpiece trouble in paradise in which she and hubert marshall are sexy jewel thieves trying to con sexy rich lady kay francis, but will emotional complications ensue???? watch to find out!!
Joan Fontaine (Rebecca, Suspicion, Ivanhoe)— Check out the screen tests of other actresses for Rebecca to fully grasp how subtly and effectively she plays the role. Competence porn! Good acting before the method!
This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.
[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]
Miriam Hopkins:
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She is an incredibly charismatic and versatile actress who brings a certain captivating je ne sais quois to each and every one of her roles that makes her impossible to ignore. Her pre-code films were considered quite risqué, with her part in a thrupple in Design For Living, and some saucy scenes they had to cut from Jekyll and Hyde. She also had a strong career in early television, so good that this queen literally has TWO Hollywood Stars, TWO!! One for TV and one for Film
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Also she is Gorgeous, capable of being the girl nextdoor and also a stunning blonde bombshell. She's not as well known as some golden-age Hollywood stars but she's really incredible and I recommend everyone watch her films
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In Trouble in Paradise she plays a pickpocket who flirts by stealing from her criminal boyfriend and I fell in love
queen of the pre-code era. often her roles were of carefree, flirty and lighthearted but intelligent women. famously in the movie where she was part of a fredrich march/gary cooper throuple.
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She's got this sly slouchy confidence that just draws you in. Almost no one wore 30s fashion as well as her
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We all know that Design for Living is THE pre-code movie and she is so iconic in it. Her eyes are everythingggg. Also everyone look at her in a suit in She Loves Me Not please
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A Frequent collaborator of Ernst Lubistch, Miriam Hopkins like up the screen in her comic roles, as is especially sexy in her pre-code performance in Design for Living; probably one of the first movies to showcase a coded polyamorous relationship. She toes the line between adorable and sexy, and had the acting chops to back it all up.
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Joan Fontaine:
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ABSOLUTELY too hot to have played Jane Eyre like what were they thinking.
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null-skull · 17 hours
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Monsters learning to be human is one of my favorite tropes in stories and I love the way Malevolent handles it. Yes, John learns that he’s more than his past and learns to love Arthur and humanity, but not only does he “become good” he is also gains all the selfish emotions that come with being human.
Take lying for example. In seasons 1 + 2 he lies because that’s what he knows as the King in Yellow. He lies and manipulates for his own benefit. He does so uncaring how that affects Arthur because he is just an end to a means. And it’s hard to tell when he’s lied as he only points it out when he knows it would hurt Arthur.
Compare that to season 3 + 4. Despite lying being the core of who he was as the king, he gets kinda bad at it. It’s pretty clear that John is hiding things from Arthur about what happened to him when they were separated and why John wants to go to New York. He begins to sound so unconfident in his words because he now understands what he’s doing is wrong. Instead of lying to manipulate and hurt Arthur, he’s lying to try and hide the fact that he’s hurting him. He’s so scared of the repercussions of the bad thing he knows he did, that he lies to cover it and pretend it will all blow over. It takes a lot of guts to admit your own guilt, and deciding to shrink away from it instead is so human.
When John admits all his lies to Kayne in part 40 he just sounds so desperate. He truly believes that he’s in the home stretch. That just a little more lying and everything will be done and he won’t feel guilty anymore. He decided he’ll tell Arthur when it’s over because he believes Arthur won’t be that mad, that he’ll think “you did something bad, but it all worked out in the end so it’s okay”, but we all know that’s not how that works. He’s so horrified when it’s revealed Arthur heard his confession because he knew what was coming, all of Arthur’s feelings of betrayal, disappointment, and anger, and he wasn’t ready to face it. He feels so guilty that he probably can’t imagine Arthur understanding and forgiving him.
Of course Kanye’s deal makes this worse. John once again knows that this is wrong as he hesitates at the beginning. But once Arthur begins to threaten him to not take the deal, John decides to take it, once again trying to run away from the repercussions of his actions. John doesn’t know yet that lying more only makes things worse, and Kayne knows this and gives him one more bump to trip on before leaving John to the fate that he has been avoiding for so long.
Of course it’s enjoyable to see John gaining his humanity. Him showing compassion, sympathy, and enjoying the mundane parts of life like admiring the view or wanting to watch a movie. But humanity is a double sided coin that comes with emotions like jealousy, selfishness, and envy. It’s frustrating to see John make all these decisions that we know are wrong and will have bad consequences, but he hasn’t been in this position before doesn’t know how this will all play out yet. And we just have to watch him learn the hard way.
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