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justmeinadaze · 3 days

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Yin & Yang (Steddie X You)

A/N: This post got me feeling some kind of way🫠 .

Warnings: Older Daddy Eddie (Late 30s)/ Older Dom Mr. Harrington (Late 30s) & Younger Fem Sub Y/N (mid 20s)

SMUT, LOTS of dirty talk, male masturbation, fingering, talks of sharing (duh), slight innocence kink (if you squint; she's new to the dynamic), ANGST, reader deals with a rude customer and Eddie saves the day. A fight between Eddie and Y/N are mentioned.

Word Count: 4838

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Everyone always said Edward Munson was a rude, pretentious asshole. News outlets, websites, social media; everyone who met him briefly or not at all expressed a particular distain for him that you always found amusing when the topic came up.

Visually, he did seem a bit aloof whenever the businessman did any kind of interview or was asked any kind of question. It was always a bit odd seeing a music producer get so much attention especially one who focused on the heavy metal scene but everyone who hated him also tended to agree that he was a genius at the craft.

The bands he signed and prompted always hit high numbers on their respective charts making him and them a ton of extra money in the process.

Anything you read or heard you skimmed past mostly because that wasn’t exactly your scene nor did you know anything when it came to what goes on the background of the music industry. Working at a coffee shop wasn’t extravagant or lucrative but it got you through till you could figure what actually was your scene and go from there.

That’s how you met him.

On a particularly rough shift, a man was screaming at you about an order that you supposedly got wrong as you tried to control the tears from spilling down your face.

“How stupid are you?! It’s coffee not a fucking math equation. You just put the right liquid in the right cup and fucking hand it to me! It’s not that hard! Fucking moron.”

“Excuse me.” The man turned just as the handsome gentleman who addressed him hung up his phone and shoved it into his coat pocket. “I understand you’re a bit stressed but I’m going to have to ask you to stop harassing the young lady. It’s not her fault and she’s doing her best.”

“Pfft. Fuck off, douchebag. This doesn’t concern you.”

“It actually does because you couldn’t handle this situation in a quiet calm manner. You’re ruining everyone’s morning including mine. Now…either take the coffee she’s giving you or wait for her to make a new one patiently.”

The man’s fist flew but the gentleman moved out of the way, grabbing his wrist, and twisting it as he forced the man to kneel before him.

“Ok. If this is the way you want to do this, that’s fine. Sweetheart…” When he addressed you, you immediately stood at attention ready to die for this man if he asked after what he had just done. “Can you hand me that cup there? Thank you.”, he praises, flashing you a small smile that makes you giddy. “Now, apologize to the young lady.”

“Ow, I’m sorry!”, the man cringes when his wrist is twisted a bit more.

“Good. Take this coffee and get the fuck out of my sight. If I see you here again I won’t be so nice.”

Disregarding the Styrofoam in the gentleman’s hand, the rude customer quickly gets to his feet before running out of the store. Sighing, your hero places the coffee in front of you.

“Thank you…for defending me… He was being such an asshole.”

“Yeah, he was. It’s not your fault he didn’t order the correct thing. I can be an asshole myself but I know when and where to use it.” When you giggled, his beautiful eyes scan you over as if trying to get a read on you with the little information in front of him.

“Are you, um, are you Edward?”, you ask as you slide him the coffee with the name scrawled across.

Again, he glances you over and later on you would learn he was looking for recognition. Everyone he interacted with knew his name and who he was. You were the first person in years who seemed to regard him as just another stranger which fascinated him.

“I am but you can call me Eddie. That’s what my friends call me.”

“Oh. Um, we’re friends?”

“For now, but I’d like to be more whenever you’re open to it.”

Another smile stretched across his face when he noticed your own turn bright red as you blushed.

“You don’t even know my name.”

Coyly, he leans his elbows on to your counter as his eyes stare at your chest. At first you feel self-conscious before you realize he’s looking at your name tag and you let out a tiny laugh to break the tension.

“I’m sorry, I just—”

“Do I make you nervous?”

“A little.”

“Honest. I like that. How about this. I can pick you up after your shift today and we can start with dinner and go from there.”

“I don’t have any clothes to change into.”

“That’s ok. I think you look perfect as is and I promise when I come get you I won’t be dressed as formal.”

“O-Ok, Eddie.”

“Good. Good girl. I’ll see you tonight.”

That evening, he showed up right as the shop was about to close and when you told him it would be a few more minutes, he nodded as he patiently waited by the front door. You occasionally snuck glances at him as he browsed his phone. True to his word, he wore jeans and sneakers with a nice white button up shirt that he had rolled up to his elbows. With how he looked this morning, you imagined for him this was dressed pretty down. While his hair was slicked back when you last saw him, now his waves seemed to have a mind of their own making him seem less intimidating and quite adorable.

Eddie asked you so many different questions about yourself, silently listening as you both ate at the restaurant he took you to. You learned fairly quickly, while he seemed like a man of few words, his body language spoke loudly. His chocolate eyes never left yours as he hung on each and every word you spoke. When you said something he found even remotely funny, his lips would flicker into a slight smirk before returning to their proper alignment. When your drink ran low, his finger would raise and a waiter would promptly run your way with a refill and as the night progressed you found his leg leaning against yours with a little sigh escaping his chest when you didn’t shy away.

“I feel kind of selfish. I’ve been talking about myself a lot but I feel like I don’t know anything about you.”

“Honestly, sweetheart, it’s a nice reprieve. Everyone I run into knows me and my perceived reputation so to finally meet someone who doesn’t know me is a breath of fresh air.”

“Reputation…”, you repeated the word apprehensively.

“Um, I’m kind of known as being a jerk.”

“You don’t seem like that to me.”

Eddie smiled so wide this time that his teeth came into view and you knew at that moment you’d do whatever it took to see him smile like that as much as possible.

“Thank you for that. I can be when I need to be. In my line of work people tend to take advantage pretty early on and I wanted this industry to know I’m not someone to fuck with.”

“Do you make movies or?”

“Music. I’m a music producer for some heavy metal bands.”

“Oh wow! That’s so amazing. I would love to know more! Did you use to play?”

When he finally began to open up, hours passed like minutes and you were so entranced that you didn’t even realize the restaurant was getting ready to close.

Eddie told you at one point he was in a band but hated the way they were cast aside for being “to generic” and “stuck in the past” so he took matters into his own hands. He bought a building and turned it into a label where he could help produce his friend’s music. He learned everything he could about production and managing, getting everything together, and essentially put Corroded Coffin on the map.

He found that he actually loved working behind the scenes and stuck with it from that point forward. Now he’s a well-respected name in his field earning triple what he would have made as a guitarist.

“What’s the name of the label you first opened?”

“Franklin Production; my mother’s maiden name. It seemed right because her money bought the building and she always loved music. She died when I was young.”

When his head hung, your heart broke.

“Oh my God, Eddie. I’m so sorry.”

His mood changed in the blink of an eye as he breathily chuckled and glanced at his watch.

“Shit, Y/N, it’s almost 1am. You have to be exhausted after your long shift today. Let me pay for our meal here and then I can take you home.”

“We’ve ordered so much food and drinks. Please let me help pay.” He paused at your comment then as his eyes met your now confused ones. “What?”

“I’ve only met one person who ever offered something like you just did and that man is my best friend.”

“I mean…it’s rude…isn’t it? It’s not fair for me to expect you to pay for everything.”

“Fuck me, baby.” Your eyelids visibly flutter at the term of endearment; coming out of his mouth with a sultry husk that made you swoon. “You’re really something special. I appreciate the offer but when you’re with me, honey, I can take care of you. It’s my pleasure quite honestly.”

You watched him pay the waiter and leave him way more than 15% before Eddie grabs your hand, leading you back to his car.

That night he dropped you off at your apartment continuing to be the perfect gentleman as he walked you to your door and kept his hands behind his back as you slowly turned your key. Before you entered, however, you paused and hastily turned to plant a small kiss on his lips. Without waiting for a retort, you want inside and shut your door with a little giggle, watching through the peephole to see what he’d do.

Eddie’s fingers softly brushed against his mouth as he grinned the way you enjoyed at the restaurant.

***

You had been together now for a few months and you loved him with every fiber of your being. Eddie was extremely protective over you insisting you quit your job and move in with him.

“Sweetheart, I don’t want you being somewhere where some fucker can belittle you and make you feel like trash. I can take care of you till you find a new job that makes you happy and people treat you with the respect you deserve.”

“Eddie, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking; I’m offering.”, he cooed as his hands cupped your cheeks. “You know how much Daddy loves looking after his pretty girl.”

The first time he called himself Daddy, you blushed and hid behind your hands making him smile as he chuckled low in his throat.

“Have you ever called a man Daddy before?” When you giggle and curl tighter into your body, he climbed into the bed beside you and pulled you to his side. “It’s ok, sweetheart. Nothing to be embarrassed about with me. Can I show you something?”

Eddie grins when you drop your palms and show him your beautiful face.

“Good girl.”, he praises as he takes ahold of your hand and kisses the back of it. With his eyes locked on yours, he gradually places it on the bulge in his slacks. “You feel that? Do you feel how hard I am just from being around you as is? You don’t have to do or say anything you don’t want to, princess. I’ll still be here and I’ll still want to fuck you till you can barely move.”

A smile twitched on his lips when your breathing stuttered.

“I-I-I’ve never called anyone Daddy before or done anything that’s not…”

“Vanilla?”, he helped when your sentence stalled. “Vanilla’s ok to. Definitely a delicious flavor that can’t be disregarded. Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course.”

Eddie leans in till his mouth is just hovering over the shell of your ear.

“The fact that you’re so nervous and innocent to all this really fucking turns me on.”

When his cock strains a bit more against the fabric and pushes back against your hand, you can’t help but release a little whine as you push your thighs together.

“What’s wrong, baby? Got a bit of an ache between your legs?”

“Yes.”, you breath out heavily as his palm ghosts up your thigh and his lips tenderly peck along your neck.

“I can help with that if you want.”

“Y-Yes, Daddy, please.”

Now, you were more than comfortable especially since he was always so patient with you when it came to almost everything. Unlike your past relationships, you were genuinely surprised at how little the two of you fought if at all. Eddie was a force in his business but when you two were together he was always as accommodating as possible. The one time you ever saw his anger directed towards you was when you forgot your phone when you went on a girl’s night out with your friends.

When you came home at 2 in the morning, he was waiting in the living room and pacing with a glass of whiskey in his hand.

“It’s 2 in the morning, Y/N! I’ve been worried sick! You forgot your phone. What if something happened to you and you couldn’t reach me!?”

“Eddie, it’s ok! I just forgot it. I promise I’ll do better next time—”

“That’s not the point! What if there hadn’t been a next time!? I’m responsible for you!”

“I don’t know what you want me to say!! I’m sorry!!”

“You watch that fucking tone with me, little girl!”

“Oh yeah. Or what?!”

When the glass in his hand shattered into the wall behind you everything became abruptly silent. Tears stung your eyes as you grabbed the little trashcan nearby and scooted towards the mess, sinking to your knees as you collect the pieces.

“Y/N, baby. No. No, no. Let me clean this, please.”, Eddie begged, his tone much softer than before as he kneeled beside you.

When he tried to take the sharp items from your grasp, you angrily pulled away from him.

“I didn’t mean to forget my phone. It was an honest mistake and you had no right screaming at me like you just did!”

“I know. You’re right, sweetheart. You are absolutely right. I just… fuck… I’m so sorry, Y/N. I love you so much and the idea of something happening to you or you getting hurt just terrifies me. I shouldn’t have reacted this way.”

Blinking up at him, your hand reaches for his own.

“You love me?”

“Yeah, Y/N, of course. Since I met you behind that coffee counter.”

After tackling him excitedly, you beamed as you kissed his lips.

“I love you to.”

People on the outside didn’t seem to understand why you were with him but they didn’t know him the way you did. Eddie was sweet, funny, and incredibly kind despite his hardened outer exterior. According to the man himself, the only other person who understood him the same way you did was a man you had yet to meet.

#############

Steven Harrington was a name you knew solely due to his reputation in media.

He was always portrayed as just another trust fund baby who was utilizing daddy’s money to do whatever he wanted. He got in trouble constantly but brushed it off with a sexy smile and a calm demeanor that made even the biggest skeptic want to trust him.

The first time Eddie mentioned him by name was after you noticed him watching one of Steve’s interviews.

“Fucking idiot.”, he chuckled light-heartedly, turning the screen of his phone so you could watch to when you climbed into bed beside him. “This is the guy I was telling you about. Steve Harrington has been my best friend for years.”

“This is your best friend?”

When he nods, you focus on the interview in front of you.

“No, no. Trust me, that company would be crazy to sell right now in this economy. Once things bounce back it will be worth way more than it is now. Then again…if they sell I could buy it and turn it into a hotel or some s***. Go ahead than! Sell that f***er!”, he laughs making you giggle as well when his nose scrunches adorably.

“Steve is actually a very clever business guy. People constantly underestimate him because he acts like a playboy.”

“So…he’s the yin to your yang?”

Eddie smirks down at you before kissing your forehead.

“You could say that.”

The more your boyfriend told you about him the more you wanted to meet him. Eddie seemed to genuinely care about this person and as his girlfriend you wanted him to get to know him as well. The first time you spoke to him was after you moved in with Ed and he called to congratulate you both.

“Hey! Are you Y/N?”

“I am.”, you grin.

“Oh good. I don’t know what I would have done if you said no. ‘EDDIE! Some random pretty girl is in your place!’”, Steve laughed.

“Pft. How do you know I’m pretty?”

“Because a sexy voice like yours must be inside a beautiful woman. I’m kind of jealous.”

He said it so smoothly that if you weren’t already sitting you’re sure his words would have knocked you off your feet. Your eyes glanced towards Eddie who was watching you from his spot on the couch.

“Uh oh. Did I lose you, honey? Sorry. Sometimes I come on a bit too strong.”

“No, no. It’s ok. You just… you remind me of him.”, you exhale as you get up and walk towards your boyfriend.

“Of who? Of Eddie? I take that as a compliment. He’s a good man.”

“Yeah he is but that’s not exactly what I meant.”

“Oh? Well then use your words, pretty girl. Who do I remind you of? I’m DYING to know.”

Eddie softly smirks as he watches your breathing stagger the same way it does when you’re intimidated by something. His ring covered fingers gently trace down your arm making you shiver.

“Tell me.”

The two words that followed came out as a strong command that told you to obey. The contradiction of how he spoke now to how he had before made you dizzy and you desperately wanted more.

“Daddy.”

After tossing the phone next to Eddie, you covered your face with your palms and ran up the stairs. A few moments later, the man you loved climbed into bed beside you and collected you into his arms.

“Talk to me, baby. Remember, no matter what there’s nothing to be embaressed about, ok?” He smiled when he felt you nod against his chest. “I know Steve can be a bit much at first but he’s a good person who’s been through a lot of bullshit.”

As you sniffle, you tilt back so you could see his face.

“I feel bad.”

“About what, sweetheart?”

“I liked the way he spoke to me. It turned me on the same way you do.”

“Ok…why does that make you feel bad?”

You shrug. “I love you.”

That makes him genuinely smile.

“I love you to, Y/N, so much. That’s why I trust you, babe. I, um, I have a confession to make.” When you sit up to give him your full attention, he does the same. “I’ve known Steve for a long time and I trust that man with my life. I’ve told him things I’ve never told anyone and he’s done the same. You said, sweetheart, he’s the yin to my yang and you’re right. Fuck… how do I say this…”

“You want to share me?”

The innocent way you asked your question drove him insane but he pushed down the need to fuck you for the time being.

“Kind of, yes. I…I wanted to see how you two got along and if it worked out, maybe, we could fly to go meet him and… you’d still be mine but he’d—”

“Use me.”

“Fuck, baby, you have to stop saying things like that the way you are.”, Eddie panted excitedly as he adjusted the growing bulge in his pants.

“May I ask why? Why you would want to share me like that?”

“Of course, Y/N, you can always ask me anything. You hold the power here especially when it comes to this. I just… he’s my best friend and I want him to be happy to. In these past few months, you’ve changed my world and I just want to give him some of that. I, um, I also think…”

“Tell me, Daddy. Please.”, you beg in your tiny voice that has his eyes closing as he tries to control himself.

“Fuck… I think it would be incredibly hot to watch you fuck him.”

You had told him you were open but apprehensive because it was all new territory for you. Both men came up with an idea to help you get acclimated to the idea.

“Hey all. Wow, Jesus Christ Munson, you undersold your girlfriend’s beauty. Hot damn.”

You giggled as Eddie rolled his eyes at his friend who was laughing himself from his side of the computer screen. It looked like Steve had the device he was using for this facetime visit resting on his lower stomach as he leaned against the headboard of his bed looking incredibly sexy with his ruffled hair and tank top just barely covering the chest hair that littered his skin.

Eddie had you sitting in between his own legs as he rested his head against your shoulder and his arms hugged you to him.

“I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable. If I do at any point please just let me know and I’ll respect your boundaries.”

“You don’t make me uncomfortable but, uh, you kind of intimidate me a bit…more than Eddie did.”

“Is it because I start at 10 and go from there? Yeah, casualties of growing up in chaotic household and then starting a business where your biggest competitor is your father.”

“What DO you do? Ed said you’re an investor?”

“Kind of. I invested in a friend’s tech company many years ago and that paid off in a big way. They make medical supplies that are high quality for a cheaper price. I’m trying to expand so we can invest in more—Pfft! Listen to me talking about all that bullshit. Let’s talk about something else.”

“No, hey! That’s amazing that you do that. My father needed supplies like that but it was so hard for him to afford stuff. You’ve probably helped so many people. What supplies has your company helped make?”

Steve blinked, sitting up straighter.

“Huh.”

“I told you.”, Eddie sings as he places a delicate kiss along your skin.

“D-Did I do something wrong? Am I not allowed to ask him questions?”, you asked genuinely worried you crossed a line.

“Most people, let alone women, don’t care enough to ask us things like you just did.”

“Maybe you two are spending time around the wrong people.”

“Maybe… Damn, Eddie. She’s perfect. Where did you find her because obviously I’ve been looking in the wrong places.”

“Hm. I found her in a coffee shop being yelled at by some asshole. Fucker.”, he growled before you tilted back and kissed his cheek. “It’s not just her personality either. Her body fucking drives me crazy. Even just watching her walk from the bed to the bathroom makes me so fucking hard.”

“Yeah? Your Daddy says you have sexy body. Can you show it to me?”

“Only if you’re comfortable, princess.”, Eddie whispers in your ear.

“Can you help me, Daddy?”

Nodding, he removes each item of your clothing till you were naked for the man on the screen in front of you.

“Fuck me. I’m not just saying this, Y/N, but you’re so gorgeous.”

“Thank you.”, you groan as you lick your lips. “May I see you?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”, he smirks.

Your whole body tingled as you watched him undress until you sucked in a sharp intake of air when his cock sprang free from his cotton confinement.

“He’s so big.”, you murmur against Eddie’s cheek as his eyes remain downcast to focus on you. “How will it fit?”

“We’ll make fit, pretty girl. Steve and I can take care of you.”

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah. Little one is worried about your splitting her in half. “

“Don’t worry, honey, I’m a gentleman to. I’m not going to just shove my dick inside of you. Even if it takes hours, we can eat and finger your little pussy till she’s ready.”

“Fuck, Daddy, please.”

Aggressively, Eddie opens your legs wide putting you on display and making Steve groan.

“Wet already and no one’s even touched you yet.”, he responded mockingly before leaning over his cock to spit on his tip and stroke himself. “How tight is she, Munson?”

You moaned loudly as Eddie inserted two of his thick fingers into your cunt and your head leaned back against him.

“So fucking tight, Harrington, and greedy. Her pussy just sucks me in and chokes my dick when she cums. Add in her sexy little noises and the way her face scrunches…”

“Open your eyes, Y/N.” Steve smiles when you do what he asks. “Good girl. She listens to. Fuck, baby, don’t take those eyes off me. God, I’m—mmm—I’m dying to feel those pretty lips around my cock.”

“You’re really good at sucking cock, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Y-Yes, Daddy. I’m…M’close.”

“I know, pretty girl. I can feel it. Why don’t you tell Stevie how bad you want his cum.”

You mewl as Eddie moves at a faster pace with the sound of your slick echoing around the room.

“Please, Mr. Harrington, Sir. I-I-I want your cum so much. I want to feel you—ahhhh—feel your cock in my mouth till you spill down my throat.”

“Jesus Christ.”, he grunted and you both watched as his release hit his thigh.

“You did so good, sweetheart. Cum for Daddy now, baby.”, Eddie praised as your back pushed against his chest and you panted as you came. “That’s my girl. Good girl. Ride it out on my fingers till you come back to me. That’s it.”

“Fucking hell. That was amazing, honey.” Steve watch with fascination as you turned your body and wrapped an arm around Eddie’s chest as you curled into his warm chest. “Everything ok?”

“She’s fine. It’s something baby girl does when she cums hard like that. She’ll squeeze me like a fucking Teddy bear and fall asleep. Sometimes it’s for a few minutes or a few hours. At first I thought it was the headspace but I don’t know. Either way I love it.”

“Yeah, man. If she had a good time and is open to it I have that party coming up in a month. You two can fly down and we can hang out. Of course, nothing has to happen. I can always just show you guys around and get to know her more.”

“I’ll let you know when she wakes up and we talk about it.”

“No problem. No problem. Hey, maybe at most, you and I can fuck around.”, Steve replies as he coyly raises his eyebrows making his friend laugh.

“Ok, calm down over there.”

“Oh, come on. Not like it would be the first time—”

“Good night, asshole.”, Eddie teases as he cuts him off and closes the laptop.

#################

“Are you alright, sweetheart?”, Eddie asks as he watches you fidget with your hands as you stare at your reflection in the metal of the elevator.

“Yeah. I’m just a little nervous. This is your best friend and I know how much he means to you. I don’t want to…I don’t know…fuck anything up.”

“Fuck, I still think it’s hot when you get all jittery like this.”, he chuckles as he takes your palm in his. “You have absolutely nothing to worry about. I love you so I know for a fact he will. Just keep being your unique self, baby, and no matter what I’ll be here if you need anything.”

When he flashes you that big toothy grin, you can’t help but smile back as you lean up on your toes to kiss his lips. The doors abruptly swing open and your boyfriend’s demeanor instantly hardens at the sound of loud party guests in the room you both step into.

Your eyes swing around the area with no sign of the host himself.

Tugging on Eddie’s bicep, you lead him to the drink station where you desperately chug down some liquid courage as you pray that tonight goes as smoothly as possible.

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gallavichsreddie1128 · 2 days

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Trapped (Art Donaldson/Patrick Zweig)

Description: Y/N is in love with Patrick but when she thinks that he doesn’t like her back she starts hooking up with Art who is in love with. When Patrick tells Art he likes Y/N without knowing Art and her were hooking up, Art will stop at nothing to make sure they don’t end up together.

Word Count: 3,859k

Author’s note: I didn’t put the warnings because it would be a spoiler. Also I still can’t comment anything on my own posts but I appreciate all the compliments! Thank you sm!! I don’t know why I can’t comment

When Y/N first met Art Donaldson she didn’t think anything of him. He was a well known Tennis player at Stanford and was on his way to becoming big. Art was nice and caring. But Y/N had her eyes on his best friend Patrick Zweig. Patrick was a bit of a player but had her heart. He constantly flirts with her but never makes an actual move. Resulting in Y/N and Art hooking up. Art was attractive Y/N never thought otherwise and when she realized that Patrick probably wasn’t into her she fell into the arms of Art.

Someone who was into her. But it was just sex. Great sex but still sex. After they had sex Y/N would get up and leave his dorm while Art stared at the door praying that Y/N would come to her senses and realize that he was the one for her. Y/N was his best friend besides Patrick and she never mistreated him and almost gave him everything he wanted. But yet he was ungrateful. Anytime he saw Patrick and her talking and laughing he was scared that Patrick would make the ultimate move on her that would end whatever they had going on.

Y/N was at all of his games alongside Patrick cheering him on. When he won (which was almost every time) she would give him the best blowjob of his life. “So are you and Y/N…” Patrick trailed off as him and Art ate lunch together. Art looked at him and laughed. “Why? You finally into her or something?” God he hoped not. Patrick shrugged and it took everything in Art not to drop his smile. “I feel like I should have made a move on her a long time ago.” He said, Art nodded. “Yeah she’s an amazing girl.” Art said.

“Do you think she’s still into me?” Art looked at him and shrugged. “She never talks about you.” That was a lie. Y/N constantly talked about him. To her understanding there are no feelings between her and Art. “Well I guess there’s only one way to tell.” “What are you going to do?” “Talk to her later you dumbass.” Art hummed and felt sick. He almost had everything and Patrick was going to ruin it.

Y/N gave Art a key to her room. He had a few hoodies there that she had taken from him that he told her he wanted back. She found it odd since he never cared before but gave him the key. As he entered the room he took in the scent. He loved the smell, it reminded him of her. He wasn’t sure where the hoodies were so he went over to her dresser. That’s when he saw her birth control.

He stared at it for a good few minutes before he thought about it. If he gets her pregnant she can’t go be with Patrick. She’d have to stay with him. But that was wrong and he knew it. He grabbed the pills and put them in his Tennis bag. He found the hoodies and left her room, guilt consuming him. “So we are going to have to be extra careful when we fuck because I can’t find my birth control pills and I don’t have time to get a refill so buy some condoms.” She told him as they walked back to her dorm. “Got it.” He said. “Well I guess I’ll see ya tomorrow.” She said and he nodded.

The next night they fucked for the first time without her being on the pill and to make matters worse Art poked a hole in the condom before she got there. He prayed that this worked. After he came he pulled out and quickly threw away the condom. “Art why does it feel like you came in me?” She asked. He looked at her confused. She reached her fingers down and gasped as she felt his cum leak out of her. “Art holy shit.” She sat up quick. “I don’t understand. I wore a condom.” He said. “It must have broke without either of us noticing.” She said and went to his bathroom to clean herself up.

The next few weeks Art made sure not to do that for a while so it wasn’t so obvious what he was trying to do. One day Y/N didn’t show up to his game or class. He was concerned and went to check up on her. She was sick. She had been puking all morning and felt terrible. “I think maybe I’m just ill.” She said but how? Y/N was very healthy and never got sick. “I’ll take you to the doctors, come on.” Art was keeping Patrick updated on the situation. Patrick really wanted to talk to her but she was so busy. “Well Ms.Y/L/N you’re pregnant.” The doctor told her. Her jaw dropped and she felt tears in her eyes. She nodded and left the room to go find Art who was waiting in the waiting room.

He stood up as he saw her, “Are you okay?” She shook her head and started crying. He hugged her as she cried. “What’s wrong?” He asked. She pulled away from the hug and sighed, “I’m pregnant.” She whispered. He wanted to celebrate but knew that this wasn’t something planned by the both of them. “What?” He asked softly. She nodded. “And it’s yours.” He gave her a soft smile, “wow.” “Art we aren’t fit to be parents, we aren't even together.” She said.

“We could be.” He said and she shook her head. “We just fuck and I like Patrick.” That annoyed him but he kept it together. “Patrick doesn’t feel the same way Y/N plus you deserve better.” He told her. “How do you know?” She asked him, “He told me.” “No how do you know what I deserve?” He was speechless. He wanted to tell her that he loved her but wasn’t sure that was the right answer. “Can you just take me back?” She asked after silence. He nodded and they left.

It was a few weeks before Art heard from her. She cried and sobbed for weeks not knowing what to do. Art felt terrible for what he did but he could never tell her. Patrick was upset that she was pregnant and it was by his best friend but he didn’t find that out from Art. He knocked on Y/N’s door worried about why he hadn’t seen her in a while. She answered the door and she looked like a mess. “Holy shit are you okay?” He asked her. She shook her head and let him in. “What happened?” He asked as he shut the door.

She sat on the bed and cried. He sat on the bed with her and pulled her into his chest letting her cry. He rubbed her back and tried calming her down. “Patrick I love you so much.” She said through tears. His eyes widened and he looked down at her. “I know you don’t feel the same way but I needed you to know that.” She said. He smiled and laughed, “are you kidding me? Of course I feel the same way.” Her heart broke. “I’ve been meaning to tell you for awhile now.” He said and cupped her face.

At any other time she would have been so happy and smiled but she didn’t. He leaned down to kiss her but before he could she whispered his name. “I’m pregnant with Art’s baby.” He pulled away and looked shocked. “You and Art had sex?” He asked hurt. “We’ve been hooking up for awhile now but only because I didn’t think you liked me back and he confirmed that to me.” She said. “Y/N Art told me you didn’t have feelings for me.” They both look at each other and realized. Art was a shitty friend.

Y/N banged on Art’s door. He quickly got up and opened the door. There stood a fuming Y/N who had tears streaming down her face. “Hey where have you-“ She smacked him across the face. “You asshole.” She yelled. He was taken back by her sudden anger towards him. “You told both me and Patrick that we didn’t like each other when we did.” She yelled. “You talked to Patrick?” He asked annoyed.

“Is that all you heard? How about the fact that you’re a shitty friend?” She screamed. He looked down at her words, she was right. “Why the fuck would you lie?” She asked. He didn’t say anything and kept looking down. She pulled his chin so that they were making eye contact. “Answer me.” She yelled. “Because I love you!” He yelled back. “And I want to be with you but you want him and he doesn’t deserve you.” He yelled.

“Art, it’s not your place to say whether or not he deserves me.” She tells him. “I know but I can’t, I can’t live without you Y/N. When you told me you were pregnant I was so happy because I thought that finally we could have a shot but no matter what I see now that you will always choose him.” He had tears streaming down his face. Her eyes softened. “Art.” She whispered and walked over to him. “I get it just go be with you him. Just let me see the kid.” He said. She shook her head and cupped his face. “No.” She whispered. She leaned in and kissed him. He was shocked but kissed her back. He pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. This was all he ever wanted and he got it.

Y/N finished her first years of college before dropping out. Art stayed in college and managed to become a pro in Tennis. They got a house together near campus so he could still go while she stayed at home. He worried for her and never wanted to leave her alone. Patrick and him were no longer friends. Art got Tashi Duncan as his coach who also helped Y/N. She never judged Y/N for getting pregnant at 19 unlike her family. She made it so Art could continue school and not have to worry.

Y/N was about ready to pop any second it seemed. Her due date was near so she and Art got everything ready for when the time was to come. It would be in the middle of the night that Y/N woke up screaming in pain. Art freaked out but took her to the hospital and called Tashi. Tashi was there at the hospital as Y/N got ready to push. Art held her hand as she screamed and cried as she pushed out his baby for dear life. Art looked as he heard the baby cry and saw her. He started crying seeing his beautiful baby girl. Tashi smiled as she saw the baby and congratulated the two.

Playing Tennis and raising a baby was hard but they managed to do it. They both always talked about how she was gonna love Tennis and want to play. She looked just like Art but was a mommy’s girl.

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” “Yes Babe Tashi is with her, she'll be fine.” Art assured her. She smiled as they walked down the beach that her Art and Patrick used to walk down all those years ago. Their daughter was almost 2 now and everything was perfect. Well almost. Art had a ring in his pocket that he kept playing with out of nerves. “Are you okay?” Y/N asked him as she noticed how nervous he looked. He smiled and shook his head, “I’m perfect.” She smiled but Art stopped walking.

Y/N turned to him confused. “Y/N, I love you so much more than anything on this planet. I couldn’t imagine a life without you or Y/D/N.” He got down on one knee. Y/N covered her mouth with her hand as tears formed in her eyes. “Will you marry me?” He asked. She nodded and smiled, “Yes Art.” She said and pulled him up for a kiss. He smiled into the kiss and pulled away to put the ring on her finger.

The wedding wasn’t anything crazy just a simple one with close friends and family. Their daughter was the flower girl and Tashi was her maid of honor. Y/N sighed as she stood staring in the mirror as she got her wedding dress on. She looked beautiful. “Are you nervous?” Tashi asked. Y/N looked at her and shook her head, “Nope. I’m so excited and happy.” She said and it was the truth.

She knew that her and Art were meant to be. She had no fear or cold feet. Art stood in the mirror at the same time as her except he was nervous. Y/N hadn’t seen him without his curls as he just got his haircut today. He tried to push in the back of his head what he did years ago. He sighed and stepped away from the mirror.

Y/N’s father walked her down the aisle. She sighed and looked around at everyone in the chairs staring at her, some in awe. She looked at Art and gasped. He cut his hair. He looked really good. They smiled at each other and what felt like eternity she was finally down the aisle. She faced Art and they both stared at each other in awe. I like your hair, she mouthed to him.

He smiled and thanked her as the priest talked. The phrase “you may now kiss the bride.” Couldn’t come fast enough but when it did. They both laughed in relief and kissed. They sealed their love with a kiss and the crowd cheered.

Art wasn’t at his best and Tashi couldn’t stop giving him shit for it. She had put him in a challenger claiming that he needed his confidence back. “She says I’m not confident enough.” Art told his wife as they got in bed. She turned to him, “Is she wrong?” He shook his head, “I don’t know.” “From what I know you’re one of the best.” She said and winked at him. He laughed and pulled her on top of him. She leaned down and kissed him.

“Patrick Zweig is here?” He asked in anger. Tashi nodded and looked over at Y/N who didn’t look upset at all. “Yes but you can beat him.” Tashi told him. Could he though? Y/N never was sure about that but maybe all this anger he had towards Patrick would help or would it distract him?

“I feel like she planned this.” Art said as they walked into the hotel. “Doubt it babe it’s just coincidence.” She said. It was also a coincidence that Patrick was at the same hotel at the bar. Luckily Art didn’t notice but Y/N did. “I’ll meet you back in the room I’m going to meet up with Tashi.” She told him. He kissed her and entered the elevator. Patrick didn’t see her but she walked up to him. “Patrick?” He turned around and his jaw dropped.

“Y/N.” He exclaimed and hugged her, she giggled and hugged him back. “You look amazing.” He told her. “You do too.” He did oh god he did. He looked sexy. They stared at each other for a while, no words exchanged. Patrick saw the wedding ring on her finger. “So you married him?” He asked trying to hide the disappointment. She nodded, “yeah I did.” “How’s he doing?” “Good.” He nodded. “I don’t have a lot of time Pat but I just wanted to say Hi.”

“I’m glad you did.” She walked away but he called her name again. She turned to face him, “Do you ever think about what would have happened if you never got pregnant?” She didn’t answer him she just looked down. “Goodnight Patrick.” She said and walked away.

She stared at the ceiling wide awake as Art slept next to her. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. Patrick. His question. Of course she thought about it. How could she not? It was sick to say but that was the only reason she gave Art a chance. She doesn’t regret it though but of course the what if? Crossed her mind.

She cheered as Art won over and over again leading up to the finales. Tashi may have been hard on him but it paid off. Y/N hadn’t seen Patrick since that night. She wondered how he was doing, she never got to ask. She didn’t tell Art that she saw him let alone talked to him. That would make him more mad than he already was. It was the final game before the finals. It looked like him and Patrick would be facing off.

“Hey Art forgot his bag can you go grab it for him?” Tashi asked. She nodded and walked off to the locker room. She went to his locker and grabbed the bag. She smiled as she saw it was the one from college. She swung it over her shoulder but heard what sounded like pills? She put the bag down and looked in the bag for what that noise could possible be. She shuffled the bag again and opened the front pocket. She pulled out pills. She was confused until she realized that they were birth control pills. WTF? She thought.

She gasped when she realized that they were the ones she lost. Why did Art have them? She never took them around him. She shook her head and put them in her pocket and took the bag to Art. “Hey I’ll be right back.” She tells him and she walks away. She takes the pills out of her pocket trying to figure out why he had them. She sat on the grass and thought really hard. She gasped as she remembered how Art hated the fact that she and Patrick liked each other. He lied to both of them about the other's feelings.

Y/N remembered the time he asked for her keys and after that day she couldn’t find the pills. Art took them. She felt sick as she realized. Tears were streaming down her face as she realized that Art planned her getting pregnant. She got up and put the pills back in her pocket. “Hey.” She looked up and saw Patrick. “Hi.” He could see her teary eyes and walked up to her. “Are you okay?” He asked her. “Can you pick me up at midnight?” She ignored his question. “Sure…but are you okay?” He asked her, “we will talk about it.” She tells him and walks away.

Art had won and was in the finals with Patrick. She hide her sickness towards him and congratulated him. Art hadn’t suspected a thing thankfully.

“Promise me that if I lose tomorrow it won’t matter.” Art stood in the bathroom doorway. She looked at him confused. “What?” “If I lose tomorrow, promise me that it’ll be okay. We will be okay.” She stared at him, “Why wouldn’t be?” “Baby please.” “Yes Art everything will be okay. I don’t care what the outcome is tomorrow I will love you no matter what.” She tells him and unfortunately that was the truth. She’s grown to love him and even though what he did was awful she still did love him.

Patrick smiled as he saw Y/N run to his car. She got in the passenger seat. “Drive.” He pulled away from the hotel and drove off. “You wanna tell me what this is about?” He asked. “Pull over first.” She told him. He turned into an empty parking lot and parked. He turned towards her. She looked at him and handed him the pill bottle. He looked at it, “birth control pills? Why are you giving me these?” He asked her.

“I was taking those all through high school and college and never once missed a beat.” She tells him. “Okay?” She sighed, “Remember when I got pregnant?” He nodded. “Art took those from me so it would happen.” Patrick’s jaw dropped, “what? Are you sure?” She nodded. “I found those in his Tennis bag he had from college, he brought it with him and I never took those in front of him. One night I give him my key so he can take back his hoodies and after that I couldn’t find them.” “He hated that we liked each other.” Patrick said, “he lied about it Patrick.

He wanted this. Hell when I went to his room to confront him he guilt tripped me. I wasn’t going to be with him just cuz he got me pregnant. I loved you.” She exclaimed. “Y/N?” She looked at him, “do you still have feelings for me?”

Patrick looked over at Y/N as he bounced the ball. Y/N kept a straight face as he bounced the ball a few times. Art watched as Patrick put the ball to the center of the racket. Art’s face dropped and he looked at Y/N. She wasn’t even looking at him. He looked at Patrick who nodded and smirked. “Fuck off.” He yelled. Patrick hit the ball and Art didn’t hit it back. Y/N held back tears as she watched Art’s world crumble. Why did she feel bad for him?

Y/N hugged Patrick after they both came down from their highs. He inhaled her sweet scent. “I’ve dreamt about doing that.” He said in her neck. “In your stinky car?” She joked. He chuckled, “not exactly but it works.” He said and pulled away from her neck. She kissed him and it wasn’t full of lust. No it wasn’t something else. Love? He kissed back.

They played Tennis like they hadn’t played Tennis before. And it was a great scene. Art was definitely angered but felt like it was deserved. Patrick was on top of the world that he got to sleep with Y/N. It was a crazy thing when at first it wasn’t clear who won.

Y/N laid on Patrick’s chest as they laughed. “So you and Art had a secret way of telling each other when you fucked someone?” She asked. He nodded, “Yup. I almost wanna do it tomorrow.” “Will he know it’s about me?” “He should.” “Do it then.” Patrick looked down at her, shocked. “Really?” She nodded and looked up at him. “But I still love him.” She said softly and Patrick nodded.

Art entered the hotel room with Y/N walking behind him. “So Patrick and you?” He asked. She nodded, “Why?” She took out the pills and gave them to him. His face turned more white than it already was. “How did you find these?” He asked her. “Your tennis bag is the same one from college.” She told him. “You hate me now don’t you?” He asked softly. She shook her head, “ No. I should but I don’t.” He looked up at her with relief. “You’re a piece of shit Art.” She tells him and his face drops. “But I’m willing to forgive you if we can add Patrick into our relationship. I’m not an idiot, I know you two had a thing for each other.”

#challengers movie #challengers 2024 #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson smut #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson x you #mike faist #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig imagine #patrick zweig x you #josh o'connor #tashi duncan #zendaya

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vagabond-umlaut · 1 day

Text

tempest in a teapot

gojo finds nothing more delightful than seeing your annoyed frown in the middle of a storm— why should he need the sun to break through the gloomy clouds, when you're right there in front of him, huh?

teen!gojo x fem!reader; fluffy & not-very-lwk sappy [xDD]; lovesick gojo; realisation of feelings; gojo loves you— you're compelled to tolerate him; he is sort of... obsessed w you but not in the toxic way yet; implied bullying [gojo isn't involved!!]; he wants to be your knight in shining armour sooo baddd; 'one-sided enemies to lovers'; 2.5k wc

belongs to the series 'fictitious force' but can be read as a stand-alone if you wanna!

header frm pinterest // divider by @/isisjupiter // jjk isn't mine

gojo believes, there exist two kinds of people.

one, those who aren't but love to pretend being better than everyone else— and two, those who aren't but will do anything to be viewed as the worst in the world— the second category housing no one except you—

tingles dancing behind his ribs, down his arms and right to the tips of his fingers, the boy hums when asked why he wishes to meet you out of all the people he could. that too now, the sky darkening from a mix of night and storm— that too, to meet you.

candy crushed between molars, gojo grins.

"let's just say i'm a little curious about her, shall we?"

then pauses, grin mellowing when he finally feels your cursed energy— if his six eyes were working just fine and not fatigued after today's spree of killing curses, maybe he could have known your location too in an instant or so... and not have had to rely on others for that...

the blinding beacon that your cursed signature is, brushes soothingly against his exhausted self— he adds, "also maybe 'cause i'm a little in love with her— she's really sweet, y'know?"

whatever response he might have been expecting, a scoff is definitely not one of them.

utahime makes a face. almost as if she just bit into a lemon... almost as if she doesn't believe gojo can fall in love... almost as if she deems you to be not sweet... that last implication nearly makes him want to throw hands with the girl, opting to ignore the fact that she's shoko's girlfriend—

but he stops when she jabs a thumb to the corridor to the left.

your cursed energy caresses his six eyes gently. something burns at the back of his two eyes. he begs his mind to listen to the directions being given to him. the directions to you!!

"go down this hallway then turn right at the end. she will still be in the gardens—" the rest of the sentence doesn't reach gojo.

nor does anything else, for that matter.

nothing does. except for the steady thump!thump!thump! against his ribs and in his ears. and, of course— how did he even forget this— the lodestar your brilliance is to his too impatient self, too stumbling feet, this squally evening as he skids past empty hallways...

your smile is the first thing the boy notices.

so sweet. so sweet. it is the sweetest thing gojo reckons to have ever seen in his life. the pretty little smile carving your lips and illuminating your equally lovely face, as you lie on your stomach on the grass. legs swaying with the wind. gaze dancing over the fluttering pages—

everything changes in a beat— or perhaps even less than that— with your eyes no longer on the book.

they are on him. drowning him. suffocating him. squeezing whatever infinitesimal life left in him after the past three days' missions. taking every bit of who he is, all for themselves to glare at so sweetly.

your pretty little smile falls into an adorable frown. "why are you here, senpai?"

"why am i here?" he echoes your query. your frown deepens. he grins, brushing his bangs away out of his view. "to see you, of course!! mind if i take a seat beside you?"

you do mind. gojo knows, yet doesn't find a fault in you minding him so— shutting your book, you don't waste an extra second to move to sit upright. nor to scoot away when the boy takes your absence of an answer as an invitation to plop down onto the grass.

your scowl stays unfazed, gojo watches, heart lurching and tumbling. falling onto his back, he shifts to lie on his side, an elbow propped up to support his head. and hums.

"why do you look so mad, sweet—"

"please don't call me by such terms," you cut him off, sharp and terse, "and please don't pretend you don't know why i'm mad— acting like a fool doesn't suit you."

"acting like a fool doesn't suit you either, darling," the boy replies, not borrowing even a moment to mull over his words. it's honestly so like playing with fire... arguing with you, that is. but he is nothing if not an extremely devoted lover of danger, so he will keep doing whatever he is doing now— plus, don't the two of you seem so 'married couple'-y right now, huh?

he continues— not disturbed, rather delighted by how your features tighten and stiffen. eyes narrowing a touch. lips pursed a pinch— he wonders if you know how much you're endearing yourself to him the longer you keep looking at him that way—

he allows his grin to simmer down to a sly twist of lips.

"but i'm not going to question that... your love for your family is pretty cool—" not really. gojo finds it boring at best, and stupid at worst. but since it's you... he tries to deem it as neither. "— so whatever amazing plan you've concocted: pretending to be weak, so you aren't sent to a mission, so you have a 100% chance of staying alive anddd your dear family doesn't have to get sad—"

"why are you here, senpai?"

obviously, to see you, silly!!

— is what gojo should say. is what gojo wants to say. but he finds his tongue numb and unmoving. rendered useless by the sight you, your cursed energy, both have become...

if you were a fire before, you're nothing less than a solar flare now.

and the boy loves it. his six eyes love it. the boy loves you—

your brows gather close. his stomach does a flip. your voice assumes an adorably serious tone. "you didn't come here to ask me out, again, did you, senpai?"

did he?

oh, gojo doesn't really know.

maybe he did... he does want to take you to his favourite restaurants. but maybe he didn't... seeing you has been the only thing on his mind ever since he was informed of his mission being in otsu, shiga.

only fifteen kilometres away from the kyoto jujutsu tech— you don't allow him to utter a single syllable in reply, however. gojo wonders if this is how all your future arguments will be like— he decides it's not that bad.

not when you lean a little towards him. gaze narrowed. tone earnest.

"look— i know keeping another's secrets is a big deal, and some folks need some sort of... uh, reward for that— but how about this? instead of me going out on a date with you, why don't i buy you a box of them gourmet chocolates? or, a ticket to your favorite band's concert? or, a gift voucher of your favorite clothing store— this is better, isn't it?"

better... it would have been... if only he was dead set on making you reward him, as you oh so eloquently put it, for keeping your secrets.

but the thing is, he isn't. the boy doesn't want any sort of silly reward from you— he just wants to take you out on a date. always has, since his eyes met yours few weeks ago and he felt something strange and sweet unfurl within his chest—

making it seem like a payment for him shutting his mouth about you, was only a tactic. a very cheap tactic, the boy chides himself, looking at the worry etched into the dip of your lips.

slipping his shades off, he sits up. and offers a tiny smile. it feels... too weird... too soft on his lips.

"you do know who you're talking to, don't you?"

it takes you a while to reply. throwing back a question of your own. "is this you telling me i can't buy a rich guy's silence, senpai?"

he is. he very much is. but heaven knows why you make it sound this rude— the same as before, you don't stop speaking. not allowing him squeeze a single word in.

"but everyone likes free stuff, don't they? i mean, i'll be buying all that for you, and you won't have to spend even a single yen..." you heave a sigh. so minute, he almost misses it. but he doesn't 'cause he's pretty much focused his every sense on you—

exhaling yet another sigh, you ask, "don't you like freebies, senpai?"

he does. he very much does. even more when you say it that way with your cute little frown and exasperated little tone—

"you're too sweet, y'know?" he breathes out, hoping he sounds just as fond as he feels of you now. extremely likely, forever. "i don't really get why utahime doesn't see you to be so."

you make some sort of a noise then.

it isn't exactly a chuckle... nor is it a snort... it's very cute, nonetheless.

you hum, "iori-senpai is the kindest out of everyone here. if she thinks i'm not someone sweet... i don't know but doesn't it ring some sort of warning bell inside your head, hm?"

"hell no," gojo mutters in that same instant— a little miffed at how you refer to utahime, a quiet respect lacing every letter you say— not-too-little miffed at the implications behind you calling that sharp-tongued girl the kindest here—

for the first time in your company, the boy feels his lips collapse into a frown.

it's something, he realises you realise too, the way your lips part a tad. in something akin surprise... but not the very pleased kind.

he doesn't really think before adding, "the only bells i can hear when i look at you are—" you frown. he bites his tongue. perhaps... he should think a bit before speaking...

chuckling, he continues as if you did not just shoot his soul a look.

"never mind what i can hear... but the thing is you can never be one who rings warning bells in others' minds— like, hell no!" he repeats. letting some force seep into his syllables. into his unwavering stare, fixed on you. on every minute expression you're making—

he really decides to think, however. softening himself on noting your shaky exhale. your nails digging into the cover of your book— he lets himself borrow a beat before resuming.

forcing his face into a bright grin when he does so.

"feel free to text me the names of those dipshits who have ever made you feel bad, by the way— but don't worry," he adds, the memories of his previous error of ways hitting him in the face.

"i won't ask you out on a date in return for that— i'm just in need of an intensive punching practice, and you will do me a big favour by doing as i asked you to— you will text me, won't ya?"

yeah. no. thank you. fuck you—

you say nothing.

nothing, nothing, nothing at all.

for a very painfully long ten seconds.

during which you do nothing except look at him— just look, that too! neither glare nor gape nor gawk— just a quiet, scarily quiet looking— gojo swears his heart skips a beat when you finally open your mouth.

and inquire, words so slow and soft.

"this isn't some ploy of yours to get my number, right?"

"hey, no—" he rushes to explain. fuming at himself 'cause how the hell did he fuck up this bad again!?!?— but as is the norm, you don't allow him to speak any more than that. cutting him off with yet another one of your queries— except this time, it's not so slow.

and more of a statement than a question, now that he thinks about it— "you did not really tell anyone about my secret in these past weeks, did you?"

no, he didn't. obviously, he didn't.

gojo satoru might be several things, but an intentional villain isn't one of them... something skids across your face when the boy tells you as much— but he finds himself not too sure.

thanks to the lightning streaking across the sky.

and the torrential rains following not an instant late.

and the way your gaze jumps from him to the sky, to the book in your hold— only to come back to his face. wide, unblinking, all-consuming for a scanty moment there—

gojo tries his best not to collapse into the mud when you break into a sprint for cover from the downpour. he tries his best not to follow you as he feels your warmth go farther and farther away. his six eyes gaze at the trail of your addictively bright and hot— and his six eyes aren't talking about just the temperature— cursed energy—

the boy tries his damnedest best not to shout, overwhelmingly happy and relieved as he realises the rapidly reducing distance between him and your cursed signature.

the thud of your sneakers on the cement floor of the building sounds nothing less than the best music the boy's ever heard. or maybe, it is the best music in this whole wide world...

yet another lightning streaks across the sky. he twists himself around just in time to catch the awe-filled look you offer at the sight. features something out of this realm as your eyes trace its path, not even a bit bothered by the deafening thunder that sounds next—

gojo thinks he'll die happy if he dies now.

or maybe he can die later, he changes his stance quickly. on noticing you dash towards him through the mud, face fixed in a deep scowl as you struggle to open an umbrella, and balance a pretty heavy-looking bag off your forearm.

you huff when you reach him.

the boy wonders if it's your finally-open umbrella, or you, who shields him from the numbing cold of the torrential rains—

crouching down before him, you drop the bag into his lap.

and exhale a quiet sigh. his breath catches in his chest when he spies a hint of something... maybe fondness? curling up the corners of your frown, as you speak.

"next time you wanna flirt with someone, try not to do that after your missions— it is very difficult to be mad at a person if they look just a push away from passing out, y'know?"

[no... gojo doesn't really know.

but as he lets you press the handle of the umbrella into his palm— an odd look flittering over your features before you turn on your heel and hurry back into the school building— and his eyes fall on the contents of the bag you've left with him—

cans of green tea. chamomile tea. dark chocolate. biscuits. water—

the boy muses if this is your attempt to buy his silence. by giving him enough food and drinks to prevent him from blacking out from sheer exhaustion while on the train ride back to tokyo...

oh. it's enough for him to not worry 'bout tonight's dinner as well, he tells himself on finding two cups of instant noodles at the bottom of the bag—

gojo smiles.

deciding not only his silence to be yours, but also a part of his heart— albeit... weren't either of them yours to begin with, huh?]

hope this was an enjoyable read! pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this ❤️❤️

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#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #kit posts 📝

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sports-on-sundays · 2 days

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two for one / LN4 & OP81 / Part 1

Summary: Lando x female!Australian!McLaren marketing unit worker!reader x childhood best friend!Oscar - Two Formula 1 drivers who just so happen to race for McLaren also just so happen to have fallen for you. Takes place from Australian Grand Prix 2024 to Monaco GP 2024.

Warnings: cussing, jealousy, flirty friendship, angst, manipulation, lying, OH THE DRAMA, confusion, mention of throwing up, not feeling well

Requested?: No.

Author's Note: I feel like this idea is so unoriginal but I don't care. The work of the reader is not mentioned much at all because there's no way I'm putting the energy into that. Also: Link to a poll related to part 2

"We should have Oscar over!" your mother exclaims. "I'm sure he's going to b-"

"Wait, Oscar's coming over?!" your younger sister exclaims.

"No, no, no," you sigh. "He's not. Mum, he's busy. We can't be bothering him with that. He's got too much on his plate. It'll just be a burden for him."

"No, it won't! Oscar's always nice!" your sister, Ava, remarks.

You sigh. "He's polite. He's very good at being polite. But it would still be a burden for him."

"You get to see him, like, everyday-"

"Not everyday-"

"-but me and Mum haven't seen him in ages. Oscar's like an older brother!"

You roll your eyes. "I'll see what I can do."

You're surprised when it's Oscar who brings it up. A week before the Grand Prix, he comes to dinner, which is nice for your sister and mum, you suppose.

But it's after he leaves that your mum makes a comment you're not sure you like.

She sighs and says, "Oscar's so sweet, Y/n. I'm sure that boy loves you."

"Sorry?" you look up in surprise. It was said so casually, you weren't expecting such a comment.

"He's such a sweet boy," she starts, as though he's still the sweet boy from down the street that used to babysit Ava with you, and not a famous Formula 1 driver. "You've known him for so many years. I would completely approve of him as a boyfriend for y-"

"Mum, I'm twenty-two! I don't need you to approve who I date! " you sigh, rolling your eyes.

"Yes, yes, I know. But don't you see the way he looks at you? He talks of you so fondly. He's just so kind with you- extra kind. More kind than how he is with other people."

You sigh, looking down at the tablecloth, picking your nails. "Well," you murmur, "if he really feels that way, he can let me know. But for now, I'm not interested in him... I... I don't think..." your voice fades off.

"Y/n. Haven't you had a crush on him for years? What changed that?"

You shrug, and murmur embarrassed, still not looking up, "I guess I just... moved on to someone else?"

"Y/n! You have a boyfriend?" your immature sister giggles.

"No! Just friends. But... I kind of like him, and I think he might like me, too."

"What's his name?"

You clear your throat, glancing down. You're not sure how to get out of this, so you decide simply to get up, saying you'll clean the dishes.

Because you know your mother would be, to say in the least, unhappy to know that rather being interested in Oscar, you're interested more in his teammate, Lando.

Or, at least, you think you are.

As you rinse the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, you think. Lando really is your type, in looks and personality. Everything you want in a guy. He's got a good sense of humour, a kind heart, and an adventurous spirit.

Not to say Oscar doesn't have all those things. It's just different.

Besides, you like Lando's curly hair. You like his greenish eyes and easy smile. You like his tanner skin and dark eyebrows. You like his build, you like his hands; you're just more attracted to him.

On the surface, maybe Lando and Oscar don't seem so different. But to you, one is your best friend, and the other, you want, just maybe, as a little bit more.

Are you not appreciating Oscar? You don't know.

But you sure know how you feel, and nothing is going to change that.

Or, at least, you don't think anything will.

The whole weekend after that goes as usual, but you're happy to be in yours and Oscar's homeland. After the practice sessions, you're seated, sipping from a your water bottle, when Lando plops down next to you. "Hello."

"Hey," you nod to him with a smile. "How's it going?"

He smirks like the stupid idiot he is and says, "Better, now that I'm with you."

You roll your eyes, and look up to see Oscar walking over he sits down on the other side of you, and you comment, "It's pretty crazy, isn't it?"

"What is?" Oscar asks.

"We used to play in this park, you know? Remember, dragging Ava along behind us?"

Oscar chuckles, nodding. "And my three little sisters. It was you and me, dragging around the four younger ones because our parents wanted a break."

"Yeah, your mum had Pilates or something," you joke.

He nods again with a grin. "Yeah. Probably something like that."

Then Oscar gets up and walks off, and Lando says, "So you two really have known each other forever?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Both born in Melbourne, a little over a month apart."

"So when's your birthday?" Lando inquires, crossing his arms across his chest.

"May 26. Funnily enough, that's the Monaco Grand Prix."

"Oh boy. I guess that means we'll have to drive well that weekend, even better. You know, for you."

"Yeah," you chuckle. "You're going to dedicate the whole Monaco Grand Prix to me?"

"Well, you certainly deserve it," he grins, patting your back before standing up and walking away.

Gosh, do you like both those guys so much!

"Ayy!" you grin, high-fiving Lando. "Let's go, baby! A podium. Nice job! And you too, Osc! Nice job, dude!" you add as he passes. He beams almost as big as Lando and nods, thanking you, before walking off.

"Well, what a gift," Lando winks. "To have you greet me after the Grand Prix."

"You're hopeless," you grin, rolling your eyes. "Good race, though. Solid, from both you and Oscar."

Lando suddenly wraps you in a hug, which makes your body practically turn to stone. "Thanks so much. You're so encouraging."

"O- Of course, Lando. Always."

"M-hm, and that's what I like about you," he says, pulling away from the hug, before walking off.

You're standing there, blushing softly, at the fact that Lando Norris just hugged you, when you turn your head, and, unexpectedly, see the brown eyes of Oscar lingering on you. As soon as your eyes meet, though, he swiftly turns his crestfallen face down, away from your face.

All the sudden, you feel a large, nervous stone in your throat.

Did he see you hug Lando?

Is that what that look about?

Or is he just down about not getting a podium at his home race?

Yeah, maybe that's just it. Anyone would be, right?

But, inside, you know that's not it. You know Oscar. He keeps cool. He's a good sportsman- a really good one. He's polite. He understands what had to be done.

So what's that look about?

Your brain can only reach one conclusion, and you're not sure if you like it.

Oscar takes a deep breath and starts walking toward you. Maybe it's time to say what he's thinking. If there's any chance of things going on with you and Lando, it's probably good for you to know how he feels, right? Just so there's no confusion.

At least that's what Oscar's figuring.

But, who knows, when he stands up and walks over, if he's actually going to admit it. For years, he's felt this way, and he's never had to guts to just say it, knowing you don't feel the same way.

Oscar wouldn't say he's scared of it, but he's definitely not keen on the idea of being rejected, which he assumes he likely will be.

You're just getting some coffee before you get back to your work, and Oscar, though he's really not thirsty or in want of any coffee right now, is ready to pretend he is.

The excuse is that he's tired. Perhaps it's too far-fetched, since it's pretty much a known fact throughout all of McLaren HQ that Oscar Piastri loves sleep, but-

Yeah.

He's 'super tired.'

You fill your paper cup up with coffee, in deep thought about work, and nothing else. Just as you're about to walk back to your desk and get back to the work, as you're turning around, a smooth hand grabs your forearm, and you spill your coffee on your McLaren T-shirt in surprise. "O- Oscar!" you exclaim, stumbling a bit at the utter closeness. "H- Hi!?"

"Hi," he says with earnest eyes. "I'm.... sorry."

"It's okay. Luckily it wasn't too hot. Oh well. I'll just go change; I have an extra shirt, sorry about that! Anyway, see you around!" And then you're off, leaving your half-full coffee cup sitting on the counter.

Oscar is left standing there, staring at the cup, his hand still out from where he had touched your arm.

Alright then. Well, maybe it's not meant to be.

Oscar's terrible timing is that he calls you the moment you're sitting next to Lando in his car, talking.

Lando is yapping. "-so then the girl said some spunky comment or whatever, and she reminded me a lot of you. You know, because I would've been the tough macho man in the movie that saves you from the fucking murder men, ri- Wait, who's calling?" he inquires, leaning over closer.

You laugh a bit at the interruption of his silly talking, and don't even think to not let Lando see who's calling. "It's Oscar..." you say vaguely, before looking up to meet Lando's eyes. "Why would he be calling?"

Lando shrugs, a curious streak in his expression. "Well, pick up, and see."

So you do. "Hello, Oscar?"

"I'm sorry for spilling coffee on you today," he says immediately, which causes a small laugh to escape from your lips.

"Osc, it's fine. I spilled it on myself. Did you call just to say that?"

"No," he laughs. "I was just wondering if tomorrow night you wanted to hang out or something..."

"Oh... yeah, sure, that'll work for me."

"Oh, nice. Alright. Also, one more question. I swear it's not related, either."

"Go on?"

There's a few moments of silence, before you prompt, "Oscar, are you still there?"

"Yeah. So... I was just wondering... are you dating anyone? Because. I know you and Lando are pretty close friends, and I was just wondering."

"Oh!" you say in surprise, your cheeks involuntarily going pink. And, without thinking, or considering, at all, you blurt, "No, of course not! Just friends!"

Immediately, you feel guilty.

You in no way lied, but you still feel like you just did something wrong.

Both you and Lando would say you're just friends.

But more and more, neither of you seem to want that.

And if Oscar's interested in you...

Oh, God.

"Oh, alright." He sounds somewhat relieved, which makes your heart tighten even more. "Alright, sounds good. Want me to just drive you from work? We could leave, at like, 8:00 P.M.?"

"8:00? What on earth are you doing, leaving at 8:00 in the evening?"

"I have something in mind."

"Uh?"

"You'll see. Trust me?"

"Alright," you shrug, still feeling very unsure.

"Okay. See you later, Y/n."

"Bye bye, Osc," you say, before hanging up.

The moment you do, Lando leans in close, with wide eyes, "What did he say?"

"Just wants to hang out."

One of Lando's eyebrows cock up.

"Lan," you chuckle. "That's all it is. Just like... like, how you and me just hang out."

"Mmm'kay, then..." he nods slowly. He's silent for a few seconds, before commenting. "Lan. That's cute."

"You're cute," you blurt, again, not thinking.

You really should try that more. You know, the whole thinking thing. You're sure you'd get in a lot less trouble if you used that brain of yours once in a while.

Lando immediately shows a pleased, toothy grin. "That's more like it," he comments, slipping his hand into yours, before he starts driving. "Up for an evening drive?"

"Always. Lan."

He winks, bites his lip, and gets driving.

"So, where are we going?" you ask as you walk to Oscar's car.

"I'm not telling you."

"Well, you're wearing a McLaren hoodie and grey jeans, so... somewhere casual."

"Good guess," he smiles, unlocking his car.

He opens the passenger seat door for you and as you're getting in, a piece of paper flies out of your pocket. You feel a lump in your throat as Oscar, with his quick reflexes, snatches it up off the ground.

Formula 1 drivers suck.

"Ca- Can I have that?" you ask quickly.

"Sure," Oscar says, handing it to you.

But it landed facing up. There's no way he couldn't have read the little note from Lando on it.

As Oscar walks around to the other side of the car, you read it over in your shaking hand.

You seem down today angel. If you wanna talk just find me or text me; i'm always here to listen. -lando

You feel your stomach lurch.

He even signed it with his name! The idiot!

And you weren't down! Just deep in thought! About Oscar, actually.

You let air escape from your lungs. You can feel the concern, the tenseness radiating off of Oscar as he drives, before, finally, he says, "Listen, I'm sorry for-"

"I know you read it. It's fine. It's nearly impossible not to. I would have, too."

"Angel?"

You bite your lip, looking out the window. "That's, just, uh, how Lando is..."

He regrips the steering wheel. "Y/n, you know me. If you lied on the phone, I won't be mad. I just want to know."

"I didn't lie, Osc. Lando was sitting right there when you called. I didn't lie."

"What... What were you doing?"

"Just hanging out. Just the same as what we're doing right now. You're both just my friends, okay?"

"Right," he says, but the sound barely escapes his lips, in only a whisper.

Soon, you reach the destination, and you're surprised to see it's your house. "Oscar...? Why'd you bring me home?"

"You'll see," he says with a soft smile. You both get out of the car, and he grabs some stuff from out of the trunk, before walking onto the lawn. You watch with your eyebrows scrunched together as he lays out a blanket. He sits down on it and pulls out a few little packets from his pocket.

"What's that?" you demand, still standing.

He takes your hand and gently tugs you down next to him. "Are you still a Tim Tam addict?"

You grin, holding your hand out to take a pack. "Thanks. And yes, I am."

"You're the most Aussie to ever Aussie."

"I could say the same thing about you."

Suddenly, he flops down on the blanket, laying down on his back, and you finally get the memo. "Stargazing?" you ask him carefully.

"If that's okay with you."

You grin, laying down next to him. "Why not?"

You lie there, side by side, staring up, and Oscar starts talking.

Listening to Lando is different. Lando is excited. Like he likes you so much and just wants to tell you everything. He talks a lot and makes you laugh a lot. Like, doubling over giggling kind of laughing.

Oscar makes little jokes, but just enough to make you softly chuckle. He doesn't go on and on. He pauses, as if he's thinking about what to say next. For you, that's a little awkward sometimes.

You feel awkward in silence.

But you like both of their ways of yapping.

After a while, Oscar is silent for longer than before, and you ask, "You asleep?"

He chuckles. "Of course not."

"Wouldn't put it past you," you tease.

"Fair enough..." he sighs softly, before, suddenly, you feel his warm hand brush yours. And in the dark, his fingers find yours, and he holds your hand in his.

You don't know what to feel. But surprisingly, it's something good.

His hand is smoother than Lando's, but smaller. His knuckles and veins are more defined, and his fingernails feel rougher than Lando's.

Here you are, just comparing the two.

Is that wrong?

But his hand is also radiantly warm, sending heat throughout your chilly body, causing goosebumps to appear on your arms.

You lick your lips, murmuring, "It's kind of cold. Can we go inside?"

There's a few seconds of silence from your friend next to you, before he says, "If the problem is that you're cold, I could fix that."

You look over in surprise, meeting his glimmering eyes, which appear to be merely black orbs in the darkness of the night. "How?" you venture.

Suddenly, he pulls you close to him, enveloping your body with his warm. You gasp a little, your heart rate immediately quickening. All the sudden, you don't feel so cold.

All the sudden, you get why you had a crush on Oscar for years.

All the sudden, the feelings come rushing back.

And in the light of the fact that you feel the exact same things with Lando, you have absolutely no idea what to think, feel, or do.

"So, are you, like, a bowling kind of guy?"

Lando shrugs. "I'm a you kind of guy, so any excuse I can think of to go somewhere with you, I will."

"Brutally honest, no?"

"Nothing's brutal about it," he grins, sipping from his cheap beer. He sets it down and stands up to have his go, before plopping back down on the couch next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.

"Lan," you chuckle. "You know, when you're bowling with only two people, as you've decided to do, there's not much time for cuddling in between turns." You say it lightheartedly. You don't mean anything by it.

But Lando does, apparently, because he says, "Ah, you know neither of his care about bowling. I care about you."

"Is this when I'm supposed to say I care about you, too?"

"Yeah, well, pretty much."

You lean closer, resting your head on Lando's shoulder. "I care about you, too. You're a great friend."

"Ah. Yeah, you too." He runs his hands through your hair for a while, before finally prompting you to take your turn. He stands up with you, as he has every time you've gone. You deliver the ball, but take just a step too forward, and slip.

Ah, fuck.

But suddenly, Lando grabs your wrist and pulls you back up, so you stumble right into him. He steadies you, wrapping his arms around you, and says, "Careful, there, Y/n. You okay?"

You clear your throat, blushing as butterflies swarm your stomach. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Thanks."

He smirks. "No problem. That's what friends are for, eh?"

So, they both like me. And I like both of them. They're both so different in their own ways, but I like them both for different reasons.

And both likely expect the other likes me.

But regardless, they're both getting closer and closer to me. And I'm starting to

"Y/n-"

You slam your notebook shut, looking up to see Oscar. He's brought you on a few more...

Well, if you were to call a spade a spade, you'd say 'dates.'

But you just can't do that, because then you'd be saying you're dating two guys at once.

Neither of them have officially asked you out. Neither have ever even gotten close to calling you their partner.

So, that's how you convince yourself there's nothing wrong with it.

So they're not dates. You just don't know what to call them.

Either way, since the Tim Tam Stargazing Romantically Cuddling Under The Moonlight Night, Oscar has also taken you to dinner for his birthday and to a museum.

Oscar is different. He plans stuff out and then asks you if you're available. Lando asks if you're available first, and then just sort of-

Well, you never plan with Lando. You just do and go what and where you want that day.

It's different.

And yet again, you couldn't say which you like better.

"Y/n?" Oscar repeats, sounding more concerned now, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Oh- yeah, what?"

He sits down next to you. "I know you'll be busy, just like the rest of us, since Miami is coming up fast, but..."

You smile nervously. "Yeah...?"

"Want to come over to my flat tonight? Or something?"

You swallow a lump in your throat as the picture of Lando's text from earlier today appears in your head.

I'm feeling good for Miami. Want to come over to my place tonight?

You had said 'sure.' You knew sometime soon, plans would overlap, and...

And that time is now.

"Y/n? Are you okay?" Oscar asks, placing his hand on your shoulder. "You look pale."

"Just... uh... Lots of..." you clear your throat. "Lots of work to do before the Grand Prix. Just... you know, stressed. I don't think I'll be able to tonight. But thank you," you put on a weak smile.

Oscar's lips curl into a concerned, thin line, but he nods, taking his hand off your shoulder. "If you ever need someone to talk to, just remember- I'm right here."

Same exact words Lando says to me all the time.

"R- Right. Thank you, Osc."

He nods. "Of course."

As soon as he's gone, you text Lando, letting him know plans abruptly changed, and that you're busy tonight after all.

You end up being very busy laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, emotions swarming in your stomach as you come to the realization that you can't keep going on like this. Soon enough, you're going to either have to choose one and break the other's heart, or let go of both of them.

And for some reason, just that thought makes you start to cry.

The rush of adrenaline is enough to make you crazy. Enough to make someone do stupid things that they never, ever should.

But when Lando Norris, race winner Lando Norris, is there, in front of you, you scream his name. When he sees you, his whole face lights up, and he throws his arms around you, lifting you up. "Nice work!" You kiss him on the cheek.

He giggles. "Wouldn't have been able to do it without you and the whole team!"

"Ah, shut up and give yourself the credit for once."

He grins wider. "Yeah, I guess for once I do deserve it."

"Shut your face, loser- or, I guess, winner."

"No, you shut yours," he murmurs, and when he's sure no eyes or cameras are on you, pecks your lips, before pulling away and running off.

And you're left there, a dizzy mess of adrenaline and embarrassment.

Later, you're walking in McLaren, and suddenly, you hear Lando's voice, "Y/n, come here."

You look up to see him peeking out of his driver's room. "What?"

"Just come on. I've got something for you." He's looking at you like an excited little puppy.

You grin and shrug, walking in with him.

The door latches behind you.

"What have you got for me, Lan?" you ask, glancing around at his contained mess.

Suddenly, your back is against the wall, and Lando's face is merely inches away from yours. You gasp, staring at him, feeling his breath on your face. "This," he mutters softly, before his eyes flutter closed and his lips meet yours.

Excitement and guilt hit you at the same exact time.

But as Lando invites you, you lean into the kiss, and any thoughts of Oscar slowly leave you as you're consumed by the bliss of this intimate moment with Lando.

But when you finally pull away from each other, panting, you murmur, "We never, ever mention this again, okay, Lan?"

He just grins, his hand slowly caressing your cheek. "Of course. Friend."

You sigh shakily. "You supposed that was your little reward for winning your first race, huh? You already got a trophy."

"Ah, sure. But you're my real trophy."

Oh, Lando, and his so-called 'silver tongue.'

After literally just making out with Lando, it feels thoroughly terrible to pat Oscar's shoulder and tell him 'sorry' about P13. Yet you manage to keep composure, despite the heavy guilt, as you say, "It's just the luck of the draw sometimes, no? But there's always next race."

You want to break down crying. You want to say something, but at the same time, you don't.

You don't regret kissing Lando.

You like him.

You think you have a better chance with him than you do with Oscar.

But you like Oscar, too. And just doing that feels like...

A betrayal.

No matter how much you say you're just friends, when do labels stop counting?

Your head is absolutely spinning. You feel sick.

"Y/n, what's wrong?" Lando asks, surprised to see you sitting in the hallway outside the offices, back in McLaren HQ, hugging your knees to your chest, staring somewhat vacantly, at nothing whatsoever.

"Hm? Hi, Lando," you say tiredly.

He slips down the wall next to you and says gently, taking your hand. "You can tell me. You haven't been yourself lately."

You swallow but don't respond.

He squeezes your hand and whispers, "Was it the kiss? Y/n, I'm sorry... I didn't-"

"No, no... It's... nothing."

Lando sighs. "So I take it I won't be able to be getting you to talk, huh?"

"S'pose not..." you sigh. There's no way you're telling him. He's fifty percent of the problem.

And Oscar's the other fifty.

So he wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back softly. You automatically lean your head into his chest, and he presses his lips into your scalp, gently kissing your hair. "I'll be ready to listen whenever you're ready to talk. But if you never are, I'll be here for you anyw-"

"What the-"

Both of you look up in shock to see Oscar looking right back at you.

Oscar's teeth clench. He's usually, nearly always, such a calm person. But now he doesn't look angry. He just look deeply hurt.

You bite back a very sudden sob.

And out of his hurt, for once, Oscar Piastri doesn't think before he speaks, and the bitter words fly out of his mouth: "Alright then! Just lie to me! Just give me fucking false hope for no reason, Y/n! That's great! Thanks a lot! Thank you! Lando, why don't you keep comforting her? Clearly she'd like that much more than anything I have to offer."

And then he turns on his heel and walks away, down the hall.

"What the hell is wrong with him?" Lando snaps indignantly. "The asshole!"

Oh, Lando. He doesn't know. Not one bit.

"You stay here," he suddenly says angrily. "I'm going after him."

"Lando..." you sigh, burying your face in your hands. "Please, no..."

"Y/n..." Lando looks at you, uncertain.

You sigh again. "Okay, whatever." It's not like it can get any worse, can it?

So then Lando's off, and you're left to drown in your complete and utter regret.

Lando jogs down the hall, and the moment he sees Oscar's back in front of him, walking away from him, he calls, "Oscar, wait up."

He spins on his heel to face the Brit. His jaw is tight, and his eyes tender. "What?" he breathes.

"What the hell, man? What's wrong?"

"I'm not blind, Lando," Oscar sighs, leaning his back against the wall, shutting his eyes, tilting his face up towards the ceiling.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lando demands, facing him.

"I know you two are dating. It's fine. I was kidding myself. Playing pretend, yeah? Just like me and Y/n used to always do. It's fine. You know I'm the type of guy to adjust. I always do. That's what I've learnt. So, I wish you two luck, but I ought to be off now." Oscar then leans off the wall to keep walking away.

But Lando grabs his shoulder. "What? I still don't get it?"

"It doesn't matter. Forget this ever happened." The Australian doesn't sound bitter or angry anymore. Disappointed and resigned, for sure, but also accepting. "It's for the best. Just go comfort your girlfriend. She needs it."

"She's not- I mean- we- I-" Lando trails off, at a complete loss for words.

Oscar stares ahead, not facing Lando. "Lando, I like you. Let's not make this dramatic. I'm sorry; I slipped. Should have kept it to myself. Like I have for years. Never should have said a word."

"I..." Lando begins, but stops. "Oscar, I..."

"You don't know what to say?" Oscar asks, suddenly looking over to Lando with an actual, genuine smile on his face, surprisingly enough. "That's okay. Probably means you shouldn't say anything. Maybe you talk too much sometimes anyway."

It's just meant to me a light, friendly tease, but in this situation, it doesn't seem right. Knots twist up in Lando's stomach, and Oscar's words don't feel like a joke at all.

Lando knows more needs to be said, but there's nothing more to say.

Then, suddenly, to his somewhat shock, Lando hears your voice behind him. "Oscar," you say, walking toward the McLaren driver. You swallow. Keeping composure.

Oscar looks at you expectantly, tentatively taking a step forward, almost involuntarily.

You suddenly throw your arms around him in a hug.

"Hey, Osc," you begin whispering. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what it might look like. But me and Lando are just friends, just like you and me are just friends. Like I said before- Lando is just like that. Besides, if you saw me sad, wouldn't you help me out in just the same way?"

"I... uh... O- Of course..."

"See? So there's nothing to be upset about. I wasn't lying to you."

Oscar's unsure eyes soften, and his eyebrows scrunch together. "I- Alright... Okay. Uhm."

"I forgive you, Oscar. It's okay," you smile gently, stroking his cheek.

You want to throw up.

Y/n. You lying, evil snake. Listen to yourself. So manipulative, and for what?

To save yourself.

To save Oscar.

But it is all selfish though, isn't it?

You're just trying to cover all your bases.

You take your hand away from Oscar's warm skin and say simply, "Lando- I think my problem earlier was just that I'm not feeling very well... Must have picked up some kind of virus... I... I should be getting home now."

And you run out, leaving the two McLaren boys standing there in the hallway, both absolutely speechless.

After quite an awkward week or so, the Imola GP comes around, and, like racing always does for you, the passion is too much to let any barriers soften your excitement.

You see Oscar first, who you congratulate with a high five. But he hugs you, saying, "How are you?"

"Huh?" you ask in surprise. "Great! Another super solid weekend for the team. P4 for you!"

"Hah, yeah," he smiles. "Well, I'm glad you're doing just as good as I am."

And later, wen you see Lando, your first comment is, "You could have won this one, too!"

"I know!" he laughs. "After knowing how it feels, P2 doesn't seem so glorious."

You click your tongue. "Don't worry, Lando. It'll come."

Well, in that following week, somehow, the two busy drivers both find times to ask you out.

As friends.

Lando tries to pry out of you what really happened that day with Oscar. You refuse to say it. Say it's personal, having to do with things from yours and Oscar's childhood.

More twisting the truth.

You're starting to hate how good you are at these disgusting games.

When you go to dinner with Oscar, it hurts your heart to see how trusting he seems. Even after it all, he thinks he's the one in the wrong. And he thinks all is well. That nothing wrong is happening. He asks you one more time if you're dating Lando.

You say no.

Because you're not.

Right?

And then, it seems, before someone can say 'I'm in love with two McLaren Formula 1 drivers,' you're walking into the Monaco paddock, the week flies by so fast.

You love Monaco. Doesn't everyone? It's one of the best Grand Prixs of the season in your opinion, if not the best. The atmosphere, the sea, the people- it's all just slightly different in Monaco.

Everything shines brighter in Monaco.

And, apparently, you do, too, because both Lando and Oscar are being particularly affectionate towards you this weekend. You can't tell if you like it, or if it's stressing you out. Likely both.

"So... Piastri-Leclerc, is it?" you ask Oscar with a chuckle.

"Yeah, that's right," Oscar says with a little chuckle.

Suddenly, one of your other coworkers nudges you and says teasingly, loud enough for Oscar to hear, "Ah, Y/n, that means you'll have to be Y/n Piastri-Leclerc when you marry him. What do you feel about that?"

Before you can say anything, Lando seems to materialize out of the depths of the McLaren garage to comment, "You know, Y/n Norris has got a lot better ring to it."

"The confidence!" your coworker laughs at Lando as Lando laughs genuinely and you and Oscar likely laugh more nervously than anything else.

That night, as you lay in the bed in your hotel room, you're having a sinking feeling, deep down in your chest, that soon enough, you'll have to choose.

You'll have to make a decision.

If you keep up this game any longer, one of you are going to get killed in the process.

You just have to be honest.

Who do you love more? Who would be better for you?

You've known Oscar longer. You connect with him better.

But you enjoy being with Lando more. You have more of the same interests.

Lando is always positive and confident. Oscar is always sensible and even-keeled, relaxed, and calm.

Lando's wild card or Oscar's solid rock?

They both care for and about you so, so much.

Oscar for all these years, was too scared to admit how he felt to you, and was only convinced to confess it when he saw how you and Lando were with each other.

So, essentially, jealousy was what convinced him to admit his feelings.

He hasn't even admitted it.

Lando has, many times. You've got Lando's number. He's straight with you. He's not scared to say it.

But at the same time... you've never believed in soulmates, but there's definitely something to the story of your life, and the way it always seemed to result in Oscar. He was always the one at the end of every tunnel.

You've known Oscar for a lifetime. You've known Lando for... what, two years?

You sigh deeply.

What the hell?

"P2, Oscar! P2! In Monaco!"

He's laughing as you throw your arms around him this time. Lando's there, patting him on the back. "Nice job, mate," he congratulates.

"Yeah, mate! Nice job is right!" you giggle.

Oscar leans away, beaming.

Then, as soon as Lando walks off, Oscar kisses your cheek gently, just letting his soft lips brush your cheek.

Your breath catches in your throat.

"Would it... would it be okay if I kissed you later? For real?"

You swallow. "We'll see about that."

But Oscar just smiles. "Will I have to wait until I win a race, too, to get a kiss out of you?"

You laugh, but a lump rises in your throat.

Why is he talking as if he knows?

"Y- Yeah," you breathe. "I reckon so."

He nods and leans away. "Well, happy birthday, Y/n! I've got something for you!" He's about to pull you by your hand, when suddenly, another hand grabs your other hand.

"Wanna see your birthday gift, Y/n?"

You look up to see Lando.

Literally, both of them, about to pull you separate directions.

Yeah, you think almost scornfully, That's right. You can each have a hand.

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larcenywrites · 2 days

Text

All About Fur!

Nightcrawler HCs

I have lots of thoughts about lots of things, and Nightcrawler’s fur is one of them! So I had to get a few things out of my brain 💙 Some x reader stuff in here too ;)

Warnings: a few sexual references | a few fluffy (no pun intended) references | no pronouns or specifications on reader obvi

⚜️Unfortunately, he doesn’t get any fluffier, much to your dismay 😔 a fluffy winter coat would have been cute, after all!

⚜️But even that short fur does get thicker and longer in certain places on the daily 😏 you may notice his jawline is a bit shaggy by the end of a lazy weekend 🤭 that there’s more fur on his chest when you run your fingers through it 🥺 his belly and a line above and below is belly button gets fluffy and curly if he lets it 🥺🥺

⚜️Even if you’ve typically preferred your past partners more… clean-shaven or well-trimmed down there, you surely can’t have any issues with his fluffier crotch and thighs 🥰 the saving grace here is that all of his fur is velvety soft 😌

⚜️Now, while it doesn’t grow any longer outside of those places, he is naturally shaggier in some other areas!

⚜️His forearms are a bit more furry than his upper arms

⚜️The backs of his thighs and his little booty have longer, curled fur 🥰🥰🥰

⚜️Rub a balloon on him and watch it stick :)

⚜️Bathing with him is fun because you get to play with his fur! Run your fingers through it! This is a feature, not a bug!!

⚜️Except now he’s more like a soggy kitten 🥺 a happy one at least!

⚜️The tail is surprisingly not just, like, skin! It is fuzzy! The fur there is very very short and fine, but still soft and fuzzy! It kinda feels like one of those lamb’s ear plants! Or peach fuzz!!

⚜️But the tip isn’t covered in fur 😔 just like the bottoms of his hands and feet!

⚜️He says belly rubs are degrading, but he likes them 😘 especially when that fur on his chest and belly hasn’t been trimmed in a while, he’ll absolutely stretch out and let you run your fingers through it during late morning cuddles 🥰

⚜️Don’t be afraid to pay extra attention to his quasi-beard, too 😉 it’s not the same as pubic hair on a human! It’s just as soft as the rest of him!

⚜️And for better or for worse, you won’t have to worry very much about beard burn, at least!

⚜️He really doesn’t mind being petted anywhere and everywhere— so long as you do, in fact, have a close and/or (preferably) more intimate relationship!

⚜️Though, if all your past partners have been more on the human-presenting side, you’ll have to get used to always getting a mouthful of fur whenever you want to kiss his cheek or affectionately bite his arm 😅

⚜️This also makes it a little more difficult to do body shots tbh 😔 not to mention trying to get any sticky wine out of that fur later 🤧

⚜️Among other sticky things 🤭

⚜️And when you’re trying to be sexy and trying to lick him down from neck to abs 😔

⚜️But!! At least he’s all soft and cuddly :)

⚜️You’ll probably literally be rubbing your cheek against his like some kind of cartoon couple! You can’t help it that he’s so snuggly 🥰

⚜️But it’s gonna get very warm under the covers— and not just because he’s getting frisky 🥲 sorry if you get hot easily!

⚜️Also sorry if you're ticklish 🥺 he’s probably trying to be very sexy and romantic by kissing down your stomach all slow and teasingly 😏 but those fuzzy cheeks are probably going to have you giggling and squirming away from him instead 😅 it’s okay, he’ll work with it 😘

⚜️His tail is also a major offender of this! Sometimes, he does it on purpose, but other times, he’s genuinely trying to be sexy when he wraps his tail around your thigh or waist, but it’s so fuzzy! It tickles!

⚜️And that’s okay, too :) he does love making you laugh 🥰

⚜️But there’s another disadvantage… sweat and fur don’t mix— there’s a reason dogs and cats don’t sweat!

⚜️Bandaids and fur also don’t mix 😬 but hey, it’s a lot more intimate wrapping medical tape around his arm or whatever 😏

⚜️And no! He won’t get fleas 😤

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dinogoofymutated · 2 days

Note

Omg I love your headcanons/fics!! I really need to ask if you'd be willing to write an addendum for the jealousy headcanons for Wolverine? Of course no pressure if you can't/don't feel like, just thought I'd try to ask! :) Hope you have a nice day/night, and keep up the good work! 💗💗💗

Jealousy Headcannons!- Multi/GN!Reader - Wolverine, Morph, Angel, Sabretooth. You got it man!! Had a version of this requested for Logan so many times lol. I went ahead and added more characters to round it off into a full multi character hcs. Logan doesn't explicitly punch anyone in this one, so sorry if anyone was looking forward to that! (Sorry though, his is pretty similar to cable's) I'm also testing the waters while writing for Morph. I know everyone is starving for fics with them, but I'm not really used to writing for they/them characters (despite the fact that I try to avoid pronouns for the reader, weird I know, but its mostly due to me using you/your.) forgive me if I slip up with their pronouns, and let me know if I do so I can fix it! TWs: Violence (not towards reader, but some pretty mean names are called tho) Men can be creeps/harassment. Unnecessary changing scene with Warren bc I love non-sexual intimacy like that. Flirting, Barfights again but this time it's a little bloody (sabertooth) Drinking mentioned.

Wolverine

Okay, so Logan here is a bit of a mixed bag when it comes to jealousy. I really feel like it depends on the situation? In general, he trusts you more than just about anyone. When someone flirts with you, he's generally just very grouchy and most of the time, quiet. He glares a lot, and if you meet his gaze he'll raise an eyebrow, basically asking if you need an out, and then he'd act accordingly.

Buuuttt. If he's in a bad mood or has had a tough day, he's more likely to resort to threats and intimidation to handle any romantic attention you might receive. He gets more physically protective and will usually have an arm slung around you at all times.

That's not to say he only gets jealous of romantic attention though. I feel like he also get jealous of anything and anyone taking up your time, really. he'd probably stay quiet until he just kinda snaps and drags you away from whatever has your attention for smooches and cuddles. Don't let him fool you by telling you he's not cuddly, he totally is.

"Back. Up. Bub." Logan's rumbling voice is venomous, a growl of warning as he bows up on the man in front of you. The two of you had been out on a mission together, which normally would have gone perfectly fine. Unfortunately, you'd ended up running into some old acquaintances of his. Both of you were bristiling at the contact, but you knew that coaxing Logan into a fight was just what he wanted. The man had been making moves on you the entire time- and although you were practically an expert in ignoring the flirtation from asshole guys, you were beginning to get more and more uncomfortable with it. It was when the man had started to make sexual comments about your body that Logan snapped.

"Who you callin' bub, pipsqueak?" The man smirks, looking down on Logan with arrogance. Anxiety had begun to worm it's way into your stomach.

"You better learn to watch your mouth." Logan growls. His fists flex as his claws unsheath, the adamantium practically itching to dig into the guy's skin. This was escalating fast, and you needed to stop it now. You both needed to complete the mission without any complications, extra fights included.

"Logan, Please, can we just go?" You say, grabbing his wrist and tugging before he can launch himself at the man. Logan's angry face remains intact, but you can see the way his shoulders slightly loosen. He glances at you, before backing off from the man with a snarl. You sigh in relief as Logan turns to follow you as you drag him away, just thankful you've avoided a problem at that point.

" 'bitch's got you on a hellava tight leash. Who knew the wolverine would be so whipped over some cheap whore." Logan stops abruptly at the words, sighing deeply as he looks at you, rage burning in his eyes. Whatever reserved attitude you had about this fight was basically gone, evaporating at the insults. You let out a long sigh, before you pull your hands away from him and shrug your shoulders. Logan grins at you wickedly.

So what if he came home with a few more bruises than normal? His knuckles would heal- but the ass whooping he gave out would damage that guy's ego forever.

Angel

Warren is the silently jealous type. No matter how bad he's being cooked with jealousy, he's really just going to keep an eye on you from afar. Growing up as a rich kid, I feel like his dad was very strict on manners and how not to make a public scene, which has kinda carried over into his adulthood.

If someone just won't give it a rest and keeps trying to pursue you, Warren will be not low-key about it. He'll come over and set his hand on your back, or sling his arm around your shoulder, or if he's feeling really cocky, Shake the person's hand and introduce himself as your boyfriend/husband. He'll only outright tell them to back off if they start to get out of hand and he knows you're getting really uncomfortable.

"I just don't like him." Warren says, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom. He's still in his suit from before, the red and bright white standing out starkly compared to the muted warm tones of your shared bedroom. You laugh at him as you begin to change.

"What? Why? I think Pietro is kinda funny." You ask, beginning to take off your shirt. Warren sighs in a petty way.

"Yeah, exactly." He mumbles under his breath, walking over to help you when your head gets stuck in the neckline like it always does. You give him a kiss on his cheek when you're free, not quite having heard him.

"Can't I dislike him just to dislike him? I don't need a reason." Warren speaks up this time, and you can't seem to hold back your amused smile as he digs his hole deeper. "-but, if I did, I'd say he's just too friendly with you. I don't like it." You can't help but laugh at that as you finish changing into more comfortable clothes. He turns around on autopilot, letting you unzip him from his suit- careful not to catch his blonde hair with the zipper.

"It's not like he's taking me away from you, Warren." You say, pressing a kisses to his exposed neck and back as you help him navigate his wings through. Warren huffs a little, his wings twitching as his voice goes soft.

"I never said that. I know he's not. I trust you enough to know so. I just..." He trails off, stepping out of his suit and left in his boxers. He lets you pull his shirt over him, stretching his wings in the confined space of the bathroom when its on correctly. You cock an eyebrow at him now that you're facing him, waiting for him to continue. He doesn't, simply looking away from you to avoid your knowing gaze. You let out an amused chuff before closing in on him.

"It's okay to be jealous, Warren, but I promise you, I'm not going anywhere." You say confidently, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He sighs again, but smiles as he looks at you with a soft and loving gaze. His arms wrap around your waist as he rests his forehead against your own, closing his eyes as the two of you begin to sway a little.

"Yeah, I know."

Morph

I really think that Morph is more of an insecure jealous type, but they're more likely to hide it behind humor. If you're being flirted and don't seem to be overly uncomfortable, they're probably going to fade into the background. They know that you love them, and they trust you, but they're so used to being second best for everyone they know that they just feel like they're bothering you. Later on, when whoever is flirting with you leaves, Morph will shift into them and start joking about it. Don't let the humor fool you, they're hurting right now. Just give Morph some extra love and kisses and reassurance and they'll feel better eventually.

Now, if it's clear that someone is bothering you, Morph won't be afraid to roast the everloving shit out of them. They take the moment to really embarrass the person, and if you're in a bar he'd totattally shift into the dude just to offer a drink to everyone and then dip, sticking the asshole with the bill.

You really didn't like clubs. They were busy and loud, but you had a friend celebrating her birthday in one, so who were you to turn down the invite? You certainly couldn't go without your favorite shapeshifter by your side either. The only problem was that Morph wasn't the only one who had eyes for you that night. Morph hadn't said anything in the moment, but you knew stuff like this bothered them. Even while walking home from the club, they still seemed to be trying to brush it off.

"Hey, Good-lookin. You interested?" Morph says, having shifted into the guy who had been flirting with you earlier. They're leaning against the side of the payphone like a goofball, having waited there as you called the school to let the others know you were finally on the way home, tipsy, but still hoping the fresh air would sober the both of you up. You roll your eyes as you giggle at them, shoving their shoulder and sending them stubiling.

"In that guy? No way!" You laugh, walking past Morph before they quickly catch up to you.

"You gotta admit, he was pretty handsome for a POS." They joke, puckering their lips and making kissy faces at you.

"Mmhm. suuureeee." You hum, pushing their face away from yours as they laugh.

"Come on, you saying' that tall dark and handsome isn't your type?" Morph shifts from the man at the club, and into the blonde, blue-eyed Warren worthington, wings hidden underneath the supposed coat. "-Or maybe you'd prefer blondes. I hear Warren's quite at catch." You huff at them, and shake your head again. Something in their tone of voice just seems to set off alarms in your brain, and they doesn't seem to be acting as genuine with you anymore, a vulnerability creeping into their voice no matter how hard they were trying to hide it. This goes on for a rather solid minute, Morph shifting into different people you know and asking who you prefer with a laugh and a fake smile. You shake your head every time, but it's starting to become more than just a bit. You begin to lose your patience, your own hurt seeping through the cracks.

"You're into the gruff, muscly, Logan, right? Hafta' be if you're still-"

"Kevin." You finally cut them off with a stern tone of voice, grabbing their wrist as you abruptly stop walking. They flinch at the name, eyes blowing wide with concern as they shift from logan, then to the dark haired version of themselves- before then settling on the form you know so well.

"... Not the government name." They mumble, more caught up in the strict way you said their name rather than the words themselves. You grab them by the collar of their leather jacket, pulling them close to you as you look into their eyes.

"How many times to I have to tell you I love you for you to believe me?" You whisper after a moment, voice coming out a little broken. Morph's seems to panic a little, making a concerned face as their hands catch hold of your wrists gently.

"I- no, that's not what I..." Morph says, trying their best to fix the situation. They can't seem to come up with the right words, their eyes avoiding your gaze as their mouth opens and closes with no luck. You cup the side of their face, bringing them back to face you.

"I. Love. You." You say purposefully. "Not some guy at the club- you, Morph. Any part of you that you want to give me, Any form you want to take. As long as it's you, I don't care." Morph relaxes at your words, sighing as you bring them closer to you, resting their forehead against your own.

"Yeah?" They ask, eyes fluttering closed.

"Yeah." You reply, finally leaning in to kiss them lovingly. They return the kiss softly, only separating from you when you begin to drag them down the sidewalk with you once again, hand in hand.

Sabertooth

He does not handle jealousy well at all. Honestly, I wouldn't put it past him to put someone in the hospital. It doesn't matter if they're just flirting, or if they're actually bothering you, he's going to start some shit. The man loves to start fights, and he couldn't care less what the reason is for. I will say though, he's gonna be a lot less smiley if the person insults either of you. He may be a shitstarter, but he doesn't take disrespect, especially not disrespect towards his S/O.

He's never mad at you for it. If anything, he's glad you gave him the chance to take some anger out. He'll encourage you to wear sexy and revealing outfits because he wants to see you wear them, and also because he's gonna beat the shit out of the first guy (and every guy, honestly) to look at you the wrong way. ESPECIALLY if you have boobs. Those are his boobs. He wants them to be popping out of your clothes 24/7 but no one else is allowed to look at them. Did he just see someone glance at you? Say goodbye to your teeth, motherfucker. (and your balls too.)

Victor loved shitty dive bars, as gross and unsanitary they may be. He liked to bar hop a few of them every other night, and although you weren't necessarily the dive bar type, you did enjoy spending time with him. Normally you'd just wear casual clothes, but today you had wanted to dress up a little bit. Nothing too fancy, but your shirt was a little low cut compared to what you normally wear. Victor had been loving it, especially since he got to have you as his eye-candy. That was what you were going for, and you succeeded! The only problem was that he wasn't the only one appreciating the view.

You were sitting at the bar, watching Victor win another round of pool while sipping on your drink. A man had sat next to you earlier, but you didn't think anything of it at first. It was a busy saturday night, and there weren't that many seats open at the bar. At most, you had a uneasy tingling on the back of your neck, feeling that someone was watching you.

"What's a fine thing like you doing in this shitty place?" The man suddenly asks. You send him a questioning glance, almost baffled at the flirting. He must be new here, because every other regular of this place knew for a fact who you always come here with, and no other man is stupid enough to try their luck with you while he's lingering around.

"Who, me? Enjoying some peace and quiet, obviously." You say in a sarcastic tone. The man chuckles next to you.

"Aw, not interested, sweetheart? I swear I'll make it worth your while." You make an obviously disgusted face at that, beginning to wonder who this guy thinks he is. The tingling feeling you feel hasn't let up, in fact, it's only gotten stronger. The hairs on the back of your neck are standing up, and you can't help but feel like something is seriously wrong here. You brushed it off on the alcohol, but Victor had always been a bit more perceptive than you. He barely glanced over in your direction before he was storming over. For a split second you think he's mad at you, until he violently grabs the man next to you by the collar, his claws scraping across his collarbones and causing him to yelp as he shallow cuts begin to bleed.

"Did I just see you staring?" Victor huffs, glaring so hard you swear the man shrinks underneath his gaze. Every bit of confidence he had a minute ago had vanished completely.

"W-what? I... Uh..." The man stutters, unable to say a complete sentence through his fear. Victor turns to you slightly, his grip not letting up for a second.

"He say something to you, Doll?" He asks, and you wonder if you should tell him the truth. You almost felt bad for the guy in his grip, knowing that he was probably just stupid and new to this bar. You shake your head in response, even though the stranger had been giving you off vibes since the moment he sat down. Victor grins at you, a loving excitement in his eyes as his grip only gets tighter.

"Aww, you don't have to lie, sweet thing." Victor chuckles, and you grimace when you realise that he totally saw that lie coming a mile away. Vic turns back to the man, his smile dropping instantly as his other hand slips the guy's phone out and slams it on the counter of the bar. "Open your camera." Vic snarls. The man starts to panic now, squirming to get out of his grip.

"N-no! Let go of me Man!" The man stutters. Vic only begins to grin again.

"Nuh-uh. I want you to show my baby the photos you've been taking all night." Photos? You didn't know anything about any photos. Your brows furrow as the man begins to whine and panic, squirming to no avail. Vic smirks at you as he send you a nodd, and you grab the phone and open the creep's gallery. There has to have been over thirty photos of you from just tonight, sitting at the bar, ordering your first drink, even one from when you had gotten up to use the restroom.

"Oh, gross!" You say, recoiling from the phone and wiping your hands on your shirt, not wanting to know where this guys hands had been all night. The man in Victor's grip has gone completely pale, freezing at the sight of Vic's terrifying smile. He reaches over towards the phone with his free hand, picking up the device before crushing it with his bare hand.

"Why don't you head outside, honeybee. I'll take out the trash while you're gone."

143 notes · View notes

togamest · 2 days

Text

-> first meeting: first sunset | 1,425 words. gn!reader, reader wears a bikini, alcohol consumption.

author’s notes: he’s so summer love, god. i’ll probably expand on this eventually but this is very selfship coded,,,also semi-inspired by @dearkiryu and i's convos abt him 🤭

you remember the first time you met jo togame.

you’d just gotten off the plane, the smell of the sea tingling your nose as you had bounded into the terminal, your carry-on in tow. you make it to your hotel without issue, and spread out on the bed, rolling around the soft sheets and smiling to yourself.

the beach had drawn you in quickly, pulling you by the strings of your bikini as you wander across the sand. a few chairs are set up, scattered across the beach in speckles of blue and white and teal. you’d sat for a long time in the spot of your choice, sipping on one of the beers in your cooler.

you’d been swiping through the matches in your phone absentmindedly, not really invested but interested to see where things go. you don’t even pay attention to what the guys look like; many of them look so similar. surf body, blonde curls, blue eyes. “yes, i get it, you live in california,” you mumble to yourself as you toss your phone in your bag, pulling your sunglasses over your eyes and settling back into the chair to drift off for a little bit.

a shadow casts over you, and you squint, looking up.

it’s a man. and he’s pretty.

you lean up, squinting. “can i help you?”

the man shrugs, moving out of the sun’s way and sitting on the chair next to you, the supports squealing under his weight. he was tall, muscles rippling underneath his skin; at least six feet with pretty braided black hair, wisps of it falling across the sides of his face. he’s wearing those translucent sunglasses, tinted orange as he leans over, wiggling his phone.

“didn’t think i’d meet one of my matches so soon.”

you gasp, looking through your phone. sure enough, there he was, looking exactly the same as he did before you. except in his photo, he’d had brilliant green eyes.

the same ones that held your gaze now, with nothing but kindness behind them.

“s-sorry,” you manage to stammer out, embarrassment flooding through your system. “i didn’t think i would either.”

he chuckles, a deep rumble in his chest as he leans back. “don’t worry ‘bout it. did ya mind if i kept ya company for a little while?”

there’s something about him that pulls you in. it could be his voice and its lilting tone; perhaps his eyes? or maybe even the way he’s holding the same beer you’re drinking right now, as you look down and notice there’s one extra missing.

you gasp again. “did you steal one of my beers?”

he answers with a shrug, a smirk tugging at his lips as he cracks the can. “maybe.”

you huff, rolling your eyes. “you’re a piece of work already. jesus, accosting me where i can’t say no to you, and then taking one of my beers? you’re ridiculous.”

he doesn’t respond, but instead chooses to smile again at you. “yeah, but i’m hot, so sometimes i can get away with about ninety percent of that.”

“don’t talk yourself up so much. it’s egotistical.”

he takes a sip, smacking his lips. “that may be, but i like t’ go after what i want quickly. i like opportunity, y’know? and ya seemed pretty bored out here, anyway.”

he’s right, you are bored. solo traveling has its perks, but people watching can only get you so far. you hum, bringing your own beer to your lips. the chill and carbonation make you feel a little less nervous with every moment that passes.

“what’s your name?”

“togame. jo togame. you?”

you tell him yours, and he smiles again.

“pretty name for a pretty thing like you.”

well, that was something else. having a man come on so strong to you wasn’t unknown to you, but it felt odd every time it happened. like you were unworthy of such praise and attraction due to, well, you.

he relaxes after that, simply basking in the sunshine next to you, asking questions about where you’re from and why you’re here. you don’t answer him honestly, of course; he seemed fine, but you can never be too careful. he doesn’t chase after more answers, seemingly satisfied with the short responses you’ve given him.

what a weird guy.

ironically, it had been a long, relaxing day with togame; contrary to popular belief, he was quite charming. and his slight ego interested you deeply, to the point where he’s stood and offered his hand to take you for a walk across the beach.

your legs are warm as you walk beside him. there’s a smile plastered on his face, soft with the edges of his lips slightly upturned, his eyes gentle behind his sunglasses.

“so, what’re ya really here for?”

“what do you mean?” you take a sip of your beer.

he shrugs, placing his hands behind his head and leaning back just a hair, his eyes sliding shut. “dunno. jus’ curious.”

you hum. “curious, huh?”

his hand scratches the back of his head. he looks embarrassed, his eyes darting to you and away, as if he’s scared of what he’s about to say.

“someone like you shouldn’t be alone.”

you can’t tell if it’s sunburn or blush that’s making your face feel hot and red, and you scoff, rolling your eyes. “unfortunately, many people don’t tend to agree with that statement.”

you avoid his gaze. you can feel it sizing you up, but it feels nice. it feels like he cares; a stranger, whose taken you on silly errands of his own within hours of knowing only his name. you’d taken a risk, you know that; you know what could have happened.

but it didn’t. somewhere, some solo traveler god has you in their thoughts. and they’d sent him, with braided black hair and pretty orange sunglasses that do nothing to hide the way he’s eyeing you.

instead, he takes your beer, ignoring your protests as he places it on one of the tables between deck chairs. the look he gives you after fills you with dread. you know what he’s about to do. every neighborhood boy had that same look at every pool party you’d been to, when things got a little too laidback.

“jo, don’t you dare—“

he completely ignores you, choosing instead to pick you up like you weighed nothing. your vision goes awry, the world rolling around in your line of sight as he walks into the water, ignoring the battering of your fists on his back.

then, the cold water hits you, saltiness stinging your tongue and your skin as you gasp, hitting the wet, sandy floor of the shallows with an oof.

after some spluttering, you wipe your face and glare at him from where he’s standing, a few feet off to the side with a horrific grin plastered across his face. he thought it was funny.

let’s see how funny he finds this.

you stand up, clothes sticking to your skin as you shake your head to get the water out. then, you lean down, arms in the water.

he looks at you. “oh, seriously?”

his tone is too teasing to be serious, so you smirk, letting loose a spray of water that slaps him all over, particularly in the face. he staggers, removing his sunglasses as he splutters away, spitting the sand and salt out of his mouth. giggles erupt from your chest as you hold your stomach. you haven’t laughed like this in a long time. a very, very long time.

you ignore the forlorn feeling present there. there’s no time to dwell on those thoughts right now.

you had something right in front of you that could take your mind off of it.

you both play around in the shallows for a long time. so long, that the sun begins to set on the horizon, setting the ocean ablaze in shades of red, yellow and orange. togame’s hand is in your own by then, his chest pressed skintight against your back. you’d slid between his legs on the bench, right between his thighs, making yourself comfortable. your beer is long gone, having been finished hours prior.

you fold your fingers between togame’s, resting your intertwined hands against his thigh. you don’t want to leave, but you know you should. not to mention, you could work up the courage to invite him in by the time you arrived at your hotel if you ask him to accompany you.

“walk me home?”

he nods. “thought ya’d never ask.”

divider credit: @/benkeibear networks: @enchantedforest-network

disclaimer: DO NOT copy or repost my works for any reason. translations are acceptable, but please ask for permission first!

#togame jo x reader #jo togame x reader #wind breaker x reader #ari's autographs #god he is so. holding my head in my hands

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jq37 · 3 days

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FH Junior Year Post-Season Thoughts

With another season of Fantasy High in the books and my recaps all finished, I wanted to do an overview of my thoughts on the season as a whole. Even though I feel generally positive about my experience with the season, there are a few things I think maybe could have been done differently narratively or mechanically. This isn't to criticize the way the season went down or to backseat DM/Play. More my combined ten years of college for textual analysis and storytelling bleeding through, haha.

I first want to start with the things I thought worked really well.

Fantasy High has "High" right in its title but, in past seasons (and especially Sophomore Year), not as much time as you'd think was spent actually at school and even if it was spent at school, there wasn't much time spent in class or engaging with the realities of being a student. This season really dug into the academic consequences of skipping your classes all the time and the realities of needing to do a ton of extra stuff to try for a scholarship and I think that was a refreshing thing to highlight for a change. Being more scared at flunking out than the dragon that's trying to eat you feels very emotionally resonant. Real "High School Is Killing Me" vibes for anyone who's a fan of NPMD.

Even though Fantasy High is a show that has some deep emotional beats and strong character arcs, it's first and foremost a comedy show. From the jump, everyone was generating bit after bit that had me cracking up as usual. "Little girly dog collar" is one of the funniest combinations of words I can think of. I think it was Siobhan who said that this was the goofy season and, having seen it, I'd have to agree with her. It never failed to make me laugh and it was always a highlight of my week. The cast just has great table chemistry that I love to watch no matter what they're doing.

Watching some of these high level combat encounters is as close as I'll get to understanding people watching sports. Even though combat is generally my least fave part of D&D, I think the cast really killed it this season with how cleverly they played and Brennan came up with some really great combat encounters. Special shout outs to Baron's Game and The Last Stand for their unique mechanics.

This is going to be one that's on the other list as well because my feelings are mixed, but I genuinely do like the downtime mechanic and how it forces hard choices. I think it's an interesting way to connect a mechanic to the story and cultivate stressful atmosphere for the season.

I have problems with the execution but I love the Rat Grinders in concept. I think as early as season 1 I was hoping that we'd meet a party that was like the Bizarro Bad Kids and the idea of a party that's farming XP instead of going on crazy adventures is a strong concept. Likewise, I think a character that's jealous because of your "cool" (read: tragic) backstory is also a fun trait for an unhinged antagonist in this kind of setting.

This is me absolutely showing my bias but I adored the Abernant Sisters content this season. I dunno if Siobhan specifically asked Brennan to not put her on a bus with the other beloved NPCs or what but I'm so glad she stuck around and we got the development we did. It was almost entirely ancillary to the plot but there was this clear pattern of Aelwyn getting softer and sweeter towards Adaine over the course of the season, from the guarded, "Enjoy the nemesis ward," to, full I love you's and, "I'd take them to get you." It was way more focus than I expected considering that Aelwyn completed the bulk of her arc last season and a lot of the time, a redemption arc basically ends after the big gesture (in this case, Aelwyn taking a magic blast for Adaine in Sophomore Year). So the fact that we got to see all of these sweet moments of them reestablishing their relationship outside of do or die moments was such a pleasant surprise. Again, I fully admit I am extremely biased, but this was my top wishlist item and the season overdelivered so there's a baseline happy I'm always gonna be with Junior Year.

OK, so moving on to things I things I think could have been tweaked.

Even though I liked the downtime system and the pressures it created, it also squeezed out the chance for more casual PC to NPC interactions that would usually be more common because they were semi-locked behind the relationship track and there wasn't an obvious benefit to roll for Relationships (as opposed to something like Academics which was crucial for not flunking out). Making the mechanical benefit more clear would have helped that (even if it meant Brennan didn't get his reveal--which he ended up just telling them anyway so might as well do it early). The other thing is that the consequence of a rage token was so bad that of course they spent all season avoiding getting one. Things might have gone differently if the consequences had been a bit more obscured, like in Neverafter. And it could have been a nice parallel to the Rat Grinders to take this unknown resource that makes things easier for you but is also having this negative effect. Then it could be like dang we did the same thing they did unknowingly.

I mentioned this in my recap but I'll talk about it again. It is a little confusing to me that we did the Ankarna subplot right after we did the very similar Cassandra subplot. It took up so much time this season which I don't think is an issue in and of itself, it's just that we literally just went through some extremely similar beats last season. Why double up on this same storyline when there's so much new ground to cover? Or if we're going to raise a god, why not make it a different kind of god? One theory I had early on was that the Rat Grinders were trying to raise their own god to one-up the Bad Kids but instead of raising a chill, misunderstood Cass type, they accidentally raised a god who was erased for a good reason and got in over their heads.

It's fun for there to be connections between seasons but sometimes it's like, OK that's a *lot* of coincidences. Like the god who your rivals is trying to raise *happens* to be the wife of your cleric's god and also *happens* to be the god of the fiend trapped in your friend's mom's chest and that fiend *happens* to be the relative on your bard's dad's side which is *also* the reason she is randomly cursed? That's a LOT of red string connecting plot points. As unhinged as Kipperlilly is about coveting Riz's backstory if I saw that go down I'd be like you have *got* to be kidding me.

The mystery elements didn't feel like they clicked as well as they did in other seasons. I think that's partially because Porter's plan was so convoluted (seriously, I made another post about how haphazard his plan was) and had all these moving parts and we didn't get clear answers for a lot of mechanical things like how the rage crystals actually work and when they were implanted and stuff. You had stuff like Devil's Honey which I think is super cool as a thing that exists in the world but ended up being an element that just led the players down the wrong path and had a relatively small payoff (that Porter was using it to lie to Ankarna). I think it's plausible that a forgotten god would be willing to listen to anyone saying the right things without introducing this element. (As opposed to, for instance, Ambrosia which has a very clear connection to what's going on and is a solid clue that someone is flirting with aspirations of godhood.)

The Porter reveal came so late in the season that even though it was a fun/challenging fight, there wasn't a lot of emotional weight behind killing him. It was basically just dunking on a teacher Fig has always hated who was also mean to Gorgug so screw him. Which, valid of course. But the Bad Kids were never going to react as strongly to Porter as they were to the Rat Grinders so putting Porter in the prime villain spot isn't necessarily what I would have done if I wanted the fight to be more than just a brawl--especially since we've done "School admin with student minions" already in S1. I don't mind the full circle callback but it would have been nice to pick something else for the sake of variety. We haven't had a child mastermind yet and I think Kipperlilly could have been a great candidate for that. My friend suggested that it would have been fun if Kipperlilly was trying to become a god instead of just being Porter's underling and I agree. "I'm not anyone's chosen one so I'll choose myself," is still within her established jealousy and Type A tendencies. If we want to keep Porter involved since that was Brennan's gift to Emily, maybe have it be that instead of Kipperlilly working for him, he's working for her. Like Artemis Fowl vibes! And the Rat Grinders can be varying levels of on board--from true believe to redeemable. I don't think Brennan planned for the Bad Kids to ever redeem her so might as well go full megalomaniacal mastermind with her and make her The Villain if she's not gonna be nuanced anyway. If My Little Pony can do it and send a literal child to Tartarus for pony treason (or whatever Cozy Glow did), Fantasy High can too.

Continuing from the above, if we have the Porter fight in place of the Grix fight (a la Daybreak) and don't use Ankarna, that gives way more time for the Bad Kids to investigate the Rat Grinders throughout the season and it would mean that they would have their personalities developed a lot more. With the limited downtime, they Bad Kids didn't have a lot of time to spend on these kids who were just hating on them for no good reason (valid). But if you cleared their plate of the god hunt stuff, they'd have more time for this. And if they weren't all rage zombies to varying degrees, it would be easier to see them as characters. Besides Kipperlilly (and, funnily enough, Mary Ann) we don't really have a good read on what these kids are actually like. The little time we spent with them all season was kind of a wash if them breaking out of rage means their personalities got laundered too. Anyway, regardless of how their loyalties ended up shaking out, it would have been fun for them to be more than the minions that they were in canon. As funny as it is for them to just kinda be XP farming losers, they did have the potential to be more interesting in their own right if they weren't just Porter's minions. And again, we've done adults forcing or coercing children into being minions in Freshman and Sophomore Year already. Lemme see some self-created child maniacs! (Or, peer pressured child maniacs. That's cool too. The Lucy/Kipperlilly dynamic is way more interesting to me if it's like girl, I would take a bullet for you but I CANNOT walk this path with you any further in response to *I* will be a god and you can be *MY* champion.)

Anyway, those are my thoughts! Like I said, I have my points that I think could have been tightened, but overall an enjoyable season and I will be glued to my screen if they decide to close out with Senior Year!

#dimension 20 #d20 #fantasy high #spoilers #I had so much fun with this season but the overall plot makes my brain throw up question marks if I map it out or think about it too hard #but then I think about adaine and aelwyn at basrar's and it's like wow 10/10 flawless execution #I don't know if I've been clear enough about this over the season but I LIKE kipperlilly as a character #I think she sucks and that's great #I think she should be worse actually #like own it #don't be a pawn in some loser's plan be your own girlboss #grind those rats chug that ambrosia #be the teenage demi-god you think you deserve to be and drag your friends into your plan with the sheer force of your personality #make it 100% sure that there's a spot in hell waiting for you when you get sent there #imagine the level of vitriol they had towards kipperlilly as is and then imagine she has legendary actions #I think her going down to riz like a chump is such a huge W for riz and fitting for how the narrative played out #but to use wrestling terms for a second #it was a waste of a LOT of heat #Porter didn't have NEARLY as much heat as she did

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kindlyanni · 16 hours

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Hello 👋

New reader here! Of both of your comics, though I admit I'm more into The Witch Door. Funfact: I don't know why, but my brain keeps calling it The Witch Next Door... which wouldn't be totally wrong, in a way, but still.

I've never really been into vampires, but the story going on in Transfusions Book 2 is getting more and more interesting, so I'll keep reading it ^^ And I'm fascinated by the dedication throughout all those years, almost fifteen years!, along with the evolution of the storytelling, the style itself, the layout, etc. That's impressive.

I'm also very glad to read stories set in Finland, which isn't a place I've come across often in mainstream media. I like to discover a new country this way.

Now, I've got a few questions, some maybe silly, sorry 😅

1. Is coffee like a thing in Finland? Or is it your own habit showing up? Because your characters sure drink a lot of coffee every time! I am used to a certain drinking coffee habit in my own country, although I'm a tea person, but I don't know, it seems to be a very, very strong habit there.

2. I prefer waiting for chapters to be completed to read them. Is there a way to know when one is done? Do you announce the last pages on this blog?

3. I love the incorporation of Finland folklore and myths in The Witch Door! Would you happen to have any book recommandations in English to learn more about it?

4. Is there or will there be a physical copy of The Witch Door at some point? (No, I'm not well into it at all, that's not true...)

Thank you and have a nice day, night, or whatever time is it when you see this :)

Hi there!

I get that vampires are not everyone's cup of tea. I am glad to hear people like TWD, as it's the newer and probably less known webcomic of mine. :)

Is coffee a thing in Finland, you ask? Finns consume the most coffee per capita in the world, according to some studies, or we're in top 2 at least. ~4 cups/day average. In Finland coffee breaks are mandatory at work places. In Finland coffee is a form of socialising, of hospitailty. If someone comes over you at least offer to make coffee for them. Many Finns drink coffee several times a day. Fun fact, I started drinking coffee when I turned 30. Didn't like the taste before that. I make 3 cups after waking up and take my time drinking it. I try to take breaks from drinking coffee every now and then though. Jousia drinks a lot of coffee, like a lot. It's because he also works when he's sleeping so he's always tired, but at this point it's a bit of an addiction.

Sometimes.... I usually make "chapter ended" posts on instagram, because I don't post weekly updates there, but I could start making those kind of posts on here too, it makes sense. If I just remember to do that. But you'll also know when chapter is over when I start posting chapter extras between chapters. :)

Unfortunately I don't know any Finnish folklore/mythology books in English. If someone else does, feel free to drop recommendations in the replies!

I can't say. I don't know. I might put together pdf's at some point!

Thank you, have a nice day as well :)

#asks #the witch door asks #the witch door

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alexanderwales · 18 hours

Text

Book Review: Metropolitan Man

[content warning: sexual violence]

It's been 10 years since I wrote Metropolitan Man, and last night I read it for the first time in almost that long. Since writing it, I've written over 4 million words, and hopefully, grown as a writer. I've also forgotten parts of the story, so was looking at it with as fresh of eyes as possible. These are my overall thoughts.

I should say, before I start, that I've read tons of comments and discussion on this story over the years. I don't know how many of these thoughts are my own, or how much I've internalized things that people have said.

Writing Style

There were lots of changes I thought about making while reading, but people hate change, and this story is about ten years past when I wanted to be making editing passes on it. In many places I kept thinking of little extras I would add, things that would make the dialogue pop a little more, or provide characterization. I had this idea for a line where I describe Lois typing out two letters like she was letting loose with both barrels of a shotgun. There's dialogue to clean just a bit more, a few places where words are repeated or something is just a bit awkward, and where it could have been tighter or more clear.

The biggest thing that stood out to me was how little time got spent on scene setting and how short some of the snippets were, just five paragraphs to get a scene across before we're onto the next thing. I might have webserial brainrot, but those are definitely places where today I would give a little more breathing room and maybe use the same amount of words to describe something in a more oblique and stronger way. One that stood out as a clear example was a private investigator going home with Jimmy Olsen even though she was done pumping him for information, which could have been twice as long and benefitted from it. Another was a brief little thing about a Superman spotter on the roof, where I'd now describe everything he was doing, and only get to the conclusion of "he was a Superman spotter" at the end of the section to let the reader have this mini mystery of what they're being shown and why.

I would describe things more if I was writing this today, trying to get those nicely tight and evocative descriptions and ditch the stuff like "she wore a white blouse", but I often feel that way about stuff that I'm revising from last week, so it's not surprising.

The plot is very tight, which is good. I tend to prefer my plots tight, but it takes work, and webserials aren't conducive to it because it's difficult to know when you're writing a scene whether it's really pulling its weight as far as moving things forward. The initial idea for MM was to move as cleanly as possible through a series of events: Superman -> Superman is invincible -> Superman is Clark Kent -> Clark Kent grew up in Smallville -> the ship is in Smallville -> the ship has a Kryptonite power source -> Kryptonite can kill Superman -> Superman is dead. The only thing that would make it any faster would be if we dropped the Lois Lane subplot, but that's like half the novel.

Superman is OOC

I've gotten tons and tons of comments on this story over the years. If I hated myself, I would go back through my email and count them up, but there are some death threats and "kill yourself"s in there, and I prefer not to reread them. The major thing that people hate is the ending, which I don't care to talk about, but the other major thing is that Superman isn't Superman.

In this, I largely agree, but then, I'm pretty sure I've always agreed. That said, Superman has had a ton of interpretations over the years, and there's a wide range of acceptable behavior from "a Superman", even if we're not counting the really out there variations like Red Son or some of the alternate timelines.

... but I still would probably make him more like a canon Superman if I had to do it all over.

There are a few things that raise red flags at the beginning, which is where I think they're inexpertly placed. Superman takes Lois off the roof and flies her around, making her very afraid, and this is fine, I think, a misunderstanding that might be stronger if we got his insight into what was happening before we got hers to help bridge some of the disconnect there and characterize them both better. But there's a little note after that, where Clark makes a joke about "Superman's girlfriend Lois Lane" that I think is a HUGE red flag, and which probably comes too early in the story. It would be better as a joke someone else made that Clark laughs along with, which raises the red flag to half mast.

The other major moment I would change is when the bombs start going off. Superman pulls back, unsure whether he's actually immune to mustard gas, and I think this is one of the moments that most goes against the character of Superman. Canon Superman would just say "welp, guess I gotta find out whether I'm immune to mustard gas in a hurry". Superman making the argument that he doesn't know the bounds of his powers and so should exercise caution reads as either cowardice or as him being way too bitten by the rationality bug.

This would then obviously have to change the plot of that section a bit, because in the novel as it stands right now, Superman is convinced by Lois Lane that he can't just sit on the sidelines for game theory reasons. Better to either scrap that section or have Lois convince Superman that for game theory reasons he should offer to have testing carried out against him in a way that doesn't harm civilians, which canon Superman might submit to if it saved lives. Then the rest of the plot can proceed as normal, because Superman is immune to everything and that's the whole plot beat anyway.

I'd definitely clean up some of Superman/Clark's dialogue to nail the character voice better, but I don't think it's that bad, and it's mostly a few places where the wording is off. I think in particular the points where he's feeling anger go too far, and are not how someone internally conflicted about the anger might talk.

And then, oh yeah, Superman punches a guy's head clean off, which I think is the biggest sticking point for most people.

I've thought about that scene a lot. I personally like it. But if I were ever trying to sell this story to DC, it's one of the things I would almost certainly change. Superman doesn't kill, except in that one movie that came out just before this story was published where Superman snapped a guy's neck.

The change I am most happy/comfortable with is that Whitman, the governor whose children were [REDACTED], is the one to kill Calhoun. This happens just outside the courthouse with Superman watching and not intervening in the slightest, or maybe catching the bullets as they go through Calhoun so no bypassers get hit.

I don't know, as I type it out, it doesn't have the same weight to it. It's not cool. It's not a watershed moment. Maybe there's a plot thread to pull there, where Superman has tacitly endorsed other vigilantes, and it would be a great time to pull in other mundane street-level heroes ... but that's an entirely different story at that point.

Another option is for Superman to simply fly off with Calhoun and put him away, but that lacks punch too, and gets talky, and ... it's about the rage, right? The feeling of injustice, not just at Calhoun, but at the entire world, and it's not just an unhappy side effect that there's blood everywhere, all over the clamoring press, that's part of the point.

Social Justice

I really enjoy how wide-ranging the novel is, and how many things it touches on. Good job me. There was a line I had completely forgotten about where Lois asks "Why doesn't Superman stop abortions?" that I had completely forgotten I had ever written, and which brought a big smile to my face (but no wonder some Superman fans hate this story).

There are a few other things that I raise my eyebrow at a little bit, at least sitting here in 2024. There's a particular line that Superman gives when talking about this whitewashed mural of the past they're walking by, and he says "It's easy to forget that slavery ever happened, you know?" Now, I will grant you that this is a part of a conversation where he's saying that maybe he should have been a better student of history, and is saying this as a white guy in 1934, but I wanted him or someone else to tear that statement apart. It never really happens.

"It's easy to forget that slavery ever happened [if you and your people have not been affected by slavery]". The novel takes place ~70 years after the end of the Civil War, which means that when Clark was growing up there would have been freed slaves who were in their fifties, probably many of them in Kansas, though Smallville is (notably) small. I don't know, it wouldn't have been historically accurate for them to have a discussion of privilege, but there's way more meat on that bone, and it's all left as subtext.

Also probably the case that if I were writing it now, I would pay more attention to race in general, but that I'm less sure on, because it would mean some major structural changes to be done well. There's a single black guy in the whole thing, who is barely a character and has no speaking lines: the farmhand Ma Kent has before he gets lured away with the promise of being an actor. I have never felt that any novel needs racial balance to it, but if you're going to be talking about slavery and whether Superman would have done anything about it, you start to make black people look like props, which is not a good look.

I mean look, I think it's fine for a given story to not actually take a stance on political issues or have a diverse cast, but this story goes from abortion to the Equal Rights Amendment to Prohibition to Nazis to the death penalty, and then despite being set in 1934 sort of talks around the subject of how shitty race relations were. As a white guy, I never feel comfortable talking about race, but I think it would have been appropriate to have here in more than the cursory way it was handled. But the cast is just not that large, and the way that modern Superman stories handle that is usually making Jimmy Olsen black and then not actually talking about the fact that he's black so it's just a palette swap, which I don't think would work here, especially since Jimmy is such a bit character, and also it's 1934.

Sexual Violence

Alright, I will say it: there's too much sexual violence.

Chapter 7 is when the two Whitman kids get kidnapped. Their driver gets his throat slit, the boy gets dismembered, and the girl gets raped. I knew it was coming and I was still horrified by it.

I would not remove this part. I would foreshadow it better with a few scenes with Calhoun, the brutes, etc., and I might change some of the details to be a bit less awful and gruesome, but I don't think I would remove it. There are a few core ideas here that I think all work:

The better class of criminal has left the city now, and all that are left are the worst of the worst, the people who will not respond to incentives or symbols or rational thought.

If you cannot strike at Superman's physical self, you strike at his mind instead, and one of the ways to do that is psychic damage. In Calhoun's case, this is irrational, a pure desire to hurt Superman in any way possible while his empire collapses.

The amount of evil in the world is enormous. The pain and suffering cannot be comprehended. I love what Superman says, that this isn't really unique, that these things happen to children all the time. He's upset about not being able to save them, but they're a drop in the bucket.

I think you have to be careful with sexual violence, whether it's depicted or hinted at or just briefly mentioned. There are tons of people who are not on board with that in their media, and even of those who are on board, it has to be handled carefully and can feel very cheap, as though you're just going to the worst and most transgressive thing you can think of for the shock value. People will see it as lazy and trivializing and making entertainment out of this horrible thing.

I think the world is shit. I think terrible things happen. I have always felt both oppressed by the weight of evil in the world and powerless to stop it. I think that's the thing that I'm gesturing at here, and it feels weird to me that sexual violence would get put on a pedestal as the one thing too horrible to mention, even though we're mentioning all the most horrible things.

How do Superman comics and shows and movies deal with this? My impression is that they don't. Surely Superman must be stopping rapes from happening, but I cannot think of a single time I've seen it happen. I'm actually having trouble thinking of a time it was implied to happen. I think this is probably a good idea on the part of the people who make these bits of media, but it's absolutely not realistic if you're thinking about how Superman would operate in the "real world". Sexual violence happens, child abuse happens, and I guess we just sort of assume that these things are dealt with by Superman off-screen.

Though ... I mean it impacts the characters, right? Does Superman not have a trauma response? Does he have a superpower where he can bottle it all up? He's definitely too late to stop certain crimes, and he definitely can't make things better for some of the victims, and I guess in the comics when he shows up to a burning building he generally has a 100% success rate and people come out with only minor injuries, but ... alright, this is definitely the sort of thing that led me to write this fic in the first place.

It's a question that the fic doesn't have an answer for: how do you go on living when you know that there's so much evil in the world?

I think dialing that particular scene back is, maybe, fine. But it's the sort of thing that would feel like I was being less authentic in a way, as though I wanted to grapple with the big questions but not that one, wanted to consider ethics and morality but silo myself away from things that actually are on my mind. I see the point of blunting that scene, and I rebel against it because I don't want to be blunted, I want to be sharp.

I would, however, remove a lot of the earlier references, or blunt those, because they didn't need to be sharp. There are, before the Whitman stuff, about five references to sexual violence, and maybe even just using "sexual violence" would be enough, rather than "rape". One of these references is to what crimes Superman is statistically most likely to stop, another is to a plot to besmirch his name, both can be massaged or they can go.

I don't know if I think about these things differently because time has passed or I've had a bunch of discussions about these issues, or whether it's just having the outside view. It's weird to think about what a conversation with myself would look like, if we were working on the story together.

Retrospective

I understand why Superman fans sometimes hate this story. There's the Superman OOC stuff, sure, but there are also a lot of questions about Superman that apply to canon equally well, and people hate that. Superman is a fantasy, maybe the ultimate comic book fantasy. He stops crimes and bullets bounce off him! You're not supposed to think about his stance on abortion rights. You're not supposed to look at the Clark Kent mask and say 'huh, that's strange'. I mean it's media, you can do whatever the hell you want, but if Superman is a fantasy, then there are a lot of questions that are fantasy-ruining.

I stand by the story as written about 80%, which is higher than I thought it would be, though there are certain things that I stand by more than others. There are certain structural changes and many line-by-line changes, and I'm glad that I didn't have the story open in edit mode, because it would have taken me three times as long to read and when I hit "save changes" people would grumble about archives or bad changes or whatever, because you can't please people.

About five years ago, I started writing A Common Sense Guide to Doing the Most Good, which was meant as a companion piece to MM. It ended up being all mechanics, no plot, and the plot that I wanted it to have was divorced from the center questions it wanted to answer. It didn't feel as grand, I guess, and the cats were out of their bags a little too quickly.

One of the Answers that MM gives is that the thing you should do in the face of overwhelming evil is to grind relentlessly, grind until your bones are scraping the grindstone and there's nothing left of yourself. The story does not believe this answer, but it's one of the places I ended up ten years ago, and am still sort of at now. The other answer is to live as best you can, be aware of the evil and do what you can against it without letting the idea of it (or the battle against it) consume your soul.

When I was finished reading, I kind of wanted to write an uncritical Superman comic. Something where Superman can be as his most loyal fans see him, someone who is Good and doesn't often have to grapple with what Good means, where the thorny edges of moral quandaries never come to light and the hero is always there in the nick of time. Where Clark Kent is a bold and noble expression of humanity rather than a deception and a mask. Maybe I will go do that.

#fanfic #metropolitan man #book review

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