#and for all the people in the tags going “why the hell is there a show called high school musical the musical the series?”

[fangirl-dot-com]

🪡The Obvious String

*part of the reverse trope series*

Paring: Lestappen x MercedesDriver!Reader Genre: SMAU/Fluff/Humor Summary: The invisible string was so visible that everyone missed it but them. What are they? Rivals? Friends? Emotional Support Buddies? But they can't be lovers . . . can they?

*I took a lot of inspo from people on twitter. I think this is the most work I've ever done for a chapter before. the tweets alone took almost two hours to do. I absolutely love lestappen so this is super self-indulgent. but that's why I'm a writer. I hope you all enjoy!*

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Lando knew that there was something between the three of them. 

Anyone could see that. Instagram, twitter, TikTok, hell even the Formula 1 app was talking about it. The grid was getting very suspicious, but who could blame them. 

Max wasn’t putting out the fire by pulling his two childhood friends in as they posed for pictures. Charles couldn’t help but flash his God-given dimples at the Dutchman or the Briton girl. And Y/n, she was just as bad, blush on her cheeks every moment she was around them. 

So yeah, everyone was talking. But, no one truly knew what exactly was going on. 

And that’s exactly what Lando was going to find out. (With the help of his fellow 16 drivers.)

His first victim: the French bestie of the non-French man. 

“I have no clue what is going on between the three,” was the first thing that came out of Pierre’s mouth when Lando showed up to his driver’s room door. The poor McLaren driver hadn’t even gotten a word out. 

Lando rolled his eyes. “You have to know something. And you call yourself Charles’s best mate.” 

Pierre threw his hands up. “Non, apparently that is Y/n and Max. I’ve been kicked to the side.” 

The Alpine driver definitely wasn’t bitter or anything. He was actually thankful that you and Max had been able to keep an eye on Charles when he couldn’t. Knowing that the Monegasque had frequent delf-deprecating thoughts, he felt better that he had the two of you. 

Pierre turned to Lando. “Aren’t you supposed to Max’s best friend as well? How would I know something that you don’t.” 

Now that made Lando’s brows furrow. He was supposed to be Max’s best friend. And maybe that’s why he felt a bit peeved to not know what was supposedly going on between you, him, and Charles. His arms crossed in front of his chest. 

“I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” he muttered, turning away to the door. 

The Frenchman scoffed. “Good luck mate. We’ve been trying since 2019.” 

“We?” 

Lewis was not expecting the numerous knocks at his door during media day. The Briton held his breath, willing the unexpected visitors to give up and go away. Yet, a sigh left his lips once the knocking started up again. He pulled himself off of his couch and walked over. 

When the door swung in, two bodies brushed against his side. 

His eye brows raised. “Yes, welcome. Come right in. Oh, thank you Lewis for allowing us to disturb your peace.” 

Lando chewed his lip. “Yeah, thanks man.” 

Pierre took a look around the room. “Thank you Lewis.” 

The papaya clad driver took a seat exactly where Lewis’s had been sitting, which cause Lewis to glare at him. 

“And why are the two of you here?” 

Pierre huffed, looking at the pictures on Lewis’s wall. 

“Ask him.” A finger pointed at Lando, making the Briton look up from his phone. 

“Oh yeah. Do you know. . . ”

Once again, Lando couldn’t even finish his sentence because Lewis interrupted him. 

“No, I don’t know what’s going on between Y/n, Max, and Charles. Honestly Lando, no one knows and I don’t think they know either.” 

Lando leaned his head back and groaned. 

“But how could they not? They all make goo-goo eyes at each other. And it’s worse on the podium.” 

“At least you haven’t bit on the podium with two-thirds of the groups. It’s insufferable man. They can’t go without talking about each other for more than a few moments.”

A laugh left Pierre’s lips. “Oh yeah. It’s always ‘Y/n was so strong on corner 2’ or ‘Pierre, did you see how Max overtook Checo?’ And then ‘Oh Charles was told to stay behind again. He really needs to ignore them.’ It makes me want to puke every time.” 

Lando scratched his chin. “Now that I’m thinking about it, you’re right. It was like how Max and Charles completely ignored me in China. They kept looking at Y/n below!” 

The last few words had a slight whine to them. Charles had been quick enough to catch Checo on the last lap, and placed himself in P3 after Lando. 

The Alpine driver looked lost. “Lewis, you’ve been Y/n’s teammate for almost three years. How can you not know anything.” 

All he got was a glare back. 

“Like I said, Gasly, I don’t even think they know something is going on. It’s pathetic honestly.” 

Lando put his head in his hands. “She must be pining. Don’t you two do girls night or at least something like that?” 

“Lando, she spends all her free moments with Max and Charles. How can she be pining to me if she doesn’t leave their side.” 

It was quite for a moment before Lando snapped. 

“I’ve got it. If we want grid gossip, we got to go to the source.” 

“No Lando, I don’t know if Max, Charles, and Y/n are in a secret relationship. And I don’t think they think of each other like that.” 

The groan that Lando let out was so loud it made a couple of people look their way. George, the tall, lanky Briton was set to take Lewis’s seat for 2025 after two years in Williams. The driver pool was going crazy. 

Logan was returning to Formula 1 with HAAS after a brief sabbatical and would be a teammate pair with Oliver Bearman. Nico and Daniel of all people were going to Audi. Liam was set to take the second Red Bull seat. And Carlos, well, no one really knew, but rumors said that he was going to return with Audi when they caught up with the regulations in 2027. 

The McLaren driver was close to pulling his curls out. 

“But George.” 

Lando was now full on whining. George seemed exasperated and shrugged. 

“We’re not that close anyway. We aren’t even teammates yet. And you knew how she yelled at me that one time that my car scraped a hole in Max’s car.” 

The group of four winced at the memory. 

Max had just finished yelling at George, calling him every name under the sun. And then you had shown up to double it. The Williams, well, now Mercedes driver, was thankful that Charles had shown up to drag the two of you away. 

Lewis looked a bit pale. 

“Yeah. I don’t think she’s fully forgiven me for Silverstone 2021.” 

Lando turned to Lewis. “But they were all still fighting at that point. Remember the whole unfollowing they did in 2019?” 

Pierre snorted. “Of course we remember. That doesn’t mean that they didn’t still care about each other. You know that Charles and Y/n were the first ones to congratulate Max after he won the championship in Abu Dhabi. And then her and Max practically tackled Charles in Japan in 2022. I don’t even want to imagine when Y/n wins her championship.”  

Lando ran a hand down his face. 

“Well, if Pierre doesn’t know, Lewis and George don’t know. Then who would?” 

George cocked his head. 

“Have you asked Daniel? You know that he and Max are pretty close.” 

Lando’s eyes widened. “Why did I not think of that. George I could kiss you!” 

George’s face scrunched. “No thank you. I don’t want to be anywhere near your lips.” 

Lewis was already at the door, wanting to get a move on. “Let’s go. George you’re coming too. If we get to the bottom of this, you’re going to have to learn how to deal with all three.” 

A shudder ran down George’s spine. He did not want to imagine the horror of sharing a podium with all of them. He’s heard enough stories. 

When they got to Daniel’s motorhome, the Australian was peacefully talking with Oscar. Lando had run up to them and was currently hunched over, trying to catch his breath. 

“Do,” inhale, “you two,” exhale, “know if,” inhale and heave, “there’s something,” exhale, “going on,” inhale, “with. . .”

Daniel sighed. “Max, Charles, and Y/n?” 

Lando shot up, eyes full of hope. Lewis nodded next to him. 

“Yes! Do you?” 

The older Aussie wanted to smirk as he saw hope fill the group’s faces. He nodded a bit, and Lando looked like someone told him that his birthday and Christmas had come early. 

“No.” 

The McLaren driver fell to the ground. Pierre smacked Daniel on the shoulder. 

“Why would you do that!” 

Now Lewis was the one whining. 

“Because it was funny. Mate, they’ve been like this since Max joined in 2018. Even then, it was worse than whatever this is.” 

The Mercedes driver of the group let out another groan for what felt like the millionth time in that hour. 

“Max was insufferable in 2018. Taking his sim everywhere so that he could game and race with them online. And the multiple phone calls. I think Max partied harder for Charles’s F2 champion win and Y/n’s F3 championship than his first race win.” 

“Ok, but that’s kind of cute.” 

All eyes landed on Oscar. 

The younger Aussie’s eyes bulged. “What?” 

Daniel pointed a finger at him. “If Max hears you say cute in any way, shape, or form that is distinctly near his name, he will come after you.”  

An audible gulp was heard. 

Lando had begun to pace. “Well, if I don’t know, Pierre doesn’t know, Lewis doesn’t know, George doesn’t know, Oscar doesn’t know, and Daniel doesn’t know, then who would know?”

Everyone looked a little lost. 

“Aha!” 

The two papaya drivers jumped out of reflex. Lando’s head turned violently toward Lewis. 

“What!” 

He held his phone up with a contact showing. 

“We call Seb.” 

“Lewis, like I’ve told you. Charles hasn’t told me anything.” 

For the sake of everyone around in the paddock, they held in their groans. 

“But Seb, you were practically Charles’s grid-dad. You have to know something!” Daniel said, face nearly in Lewis’s phone, as if Sebastian could hear him better. 

A sigh was heard through the speaker. 

“Charles was nothing less than a terror in 2019. I think the calmest anyone has seen him was 2018 when his car didn’t go fast enough for him to catch anyone.” 

Lewis hummed. “That’s true.” 

“Because everyone there should know that 2019 was the year of them. Every headline was all about them. And don’t get me started on when they had that big fight. I had to hear everything about it every. single. weekend.” 

Daniel nodded. “It was the same with Max. If Fernando was here, he could say the same for Y/n since she was still racing with Alpine at the time.” 

Oscar had completely forgotten about Fernando being Y/n’s teammate for half a season before she made the jump to Williams to replace Kubica to race alongside Nicholas Latiffi. The young Aussie had looked up to the older female when he was making the decision to leave Alpine. She had personally congratulated him on the move and gave him a wink. Well, had tried to before Max and Charles dragged her away. 

Sebastian had gone quiet over the phone. 

“Has anyone actually asked them if they’re together or not? Instead of just asking everyone else about a matter that deeply involves the three of them?” 

Their silence had answered for them. 

Lando grabbed Lewis’s phone out of his hand. 

“Thank you Seb! We’ll get right on it!” 

“Hey!” 

It was too late and Lando had already hung up and was passing the phone back to his fellow Briton. 

“Guys, we can’t ask them.” 

“What!” Pierre yelled. 

“Think about it. If we just go and ask, they’re going to make excuses. We won’t get a right answer.” 

“Lando, you’re being unreal. Let’s just go ask them,” George said. 

“Ask them what?” 

The six of them jumped out of their skin at the new arrival of a familiar voice. Lando froze before slowly turning around, to come face to face with you, Charles, and Max, all looking cozy for media day. 

“Uh, nothing?” Lando squeaked out, eyes darting around so he wouldn’t have to look at the trio. 

Max snorted. “Doesn’t sound like nothing to me.” 

He took a sip of his Red Bull. 

Daniel looked panicked. “We were just wanting to ask, uh, Lewis and Nico if they had forgiven each other yet?” 

“Hey!” 

Charles raised his eyebrows. “Why do you seem so unsure? And Lewis is right there mate. Kind of rude to talk about his problems in front of him.” 

“Thank you Charles.” 

The Monegasque hummed as he turned to Max. His mouth dropped. 

“Max, I thought I told you to stop drinking that stuff. It’s bad for your heart.” 

The Dutchman shrugged and took another sip, just to spite the Ferrari driver. You rolled your eyes, knowing a playfight was just around the corner. 

Oscar’s eyes narrowed as he looked over the trio’s choice of outfits. 

“Y/n, are those Charles’s cloud pants? Charles is that Max’s cap? And Max is that Charles’s Monza hoodie.” 

The arguing that was beginning to build between the two male drivers suddenly stopped. Your eyes widened as you jerked your head toward them. 

Sure enough, Charles’s hat was not bright red and it had the number 1 on it, something that Charles lost to Max in 2023. You leaned back to look at the hoodie Max was wearing, and indeed it had the iconic podium scene on the back of it. The two males looked toward your pants. The bright white clouds seemed to stare back at them. 

“Uh, yes?” you asked. “But we share clothes all the time. It’s not a big deal.” 

Max and Charles nodded before Charles was hit with a thought. 

“Oh, chéri, I forgot to tell you that your dry cleaning was picked up a few hours ago and is back at the hotel,” he said as he looked at his phone, completely missing the six pairs of wide eyes that were now looking at him. 

Max smirked as he leaned over and kissed the top of Charles’s head. 

“Thank you schatje.” 

This time, a whine came from you. 

“I’m being left out,” you muttered, crossing your arms. However, the two were not having it and quickly brought you into their arms. 

Lando stared, blinked, and stared some more before he rubbed his eyes. He completely believed that the three would disappear when his hands lowered, but he caught Max in the middle of kissing your lips. 

“WHAT?” 

You turned back to the group. 

“Are you all fine?” 

Lewis threw his hands up. “I’m done. Call me when we need to go to the media.” 

The door opened quickly, allowing Lewis to slip out. 

Pierre looked a bit pale. “What? When? Where? Why?”

Charles shrugged. “We’re together. After my championship. The hotel. We love each other.” 

Daniel sighed. “So you’ve been together since 2022?” 

Max rolled his eyes. “No.” 

“But Charles just said his championship!” Oscar explained, hands outstretched. 

It was your turn to smile. “His F2 championship. We’ve been together since 2017.” 

A long sigh came from Lando. “I think I need to sit down.” 

Daniel’s door swung back open, revealing Lewis once again. He also seemed out of breath. His hands were on his knees for a bit until he straightened back up. 

“You’re telling me that you three have been together SINCE 2017!” 

You nodded. “Yes.” 

Pierre pouted. “But what about 2019?” 

The three of you winced in a synchronized matter. With a quick look, Max was the one to sigh. His hands dug into the front pocket of the cozy, black hoodie. 

“Long story short, we took a small break until Y/n won in Brazil. We all got our heads out of our asses and apologized.” 

Oscar rose an eyebrow. “Then why haven’t you followed each other back on Instagram.”

A snort from you made the two men chuckle. You simply shrugged your shoulders. 

“Too lazy? We don’t feel like breaking the internet.” 

Lando took a seat on Daniel’s couch. “Why haven’t you told anyone?” 

Charles ran a hand over his face. “Lando, we race in countries where people are killed for being homosexual. We can’t risk anything.” 

The air suddenly took a solemn turn as the McLaren driver nodded, truly taking in the situation. Charles chewed his lip in anxiety, while Max picked at his fingers. You were looking at the group. 

“You won’t tell anyone right?” 

Suddenly, everyone felt bad for wanting to find out. They had pushed the three to confess something that they might not have wanted people to know about at that time. What a group of friends they were. 

Lando hung his head. “We won’t. I’m sorry that we asked about it before you three were obviously ready to tell someone.” 

Another snort left Charles’s lips as his hand rested on his mouth. Max had a shit-eating grin on his face, you had one to match. 

Pierre looked at them with a skeptical expression. “Something to tell us?” 

Max’s shoulders raised. “People know. You aren’t the first ones to know.” 

Lewis sighed, shoulder sagging. George put a hand on the older Briton’s shoulder, trying to offer some comfort. Lando looked close to losing it. His hazel eyes narrowed at the trio. 

“Then . . . who knows?” 

Charles’s eyes looked up a bit as he started to count. 

“Uh, Christian, Fred, Toto, Kimi.” 

You pulled out his fingers and counted.  

“Jensen, Mark, uh, Nico.” 

Lewis looked like he wanted to pass out. 

Max smirked. 

“Oh, and Seb.” 

There was silence amongst the group. 

“Oh he is so dead.” 

“Lando you can’t kill Seb!” 

“Sorry Lewis, but this is his fault!” 

“Calm down Lando. You’ll lose your seat.” 

“Oscar, I just want to talk to Seb. Who has his phone number?” 

“I am not giving you his number Lando.” 

“I’m not asking you Lewis. Daniel, I know you have it.” 

You smiled in Max and Charles’s arms as Lando started to get physical, trying to grab Daniel’s phone. 

You leaned up, immediately being engulfed in Max’s aftershave. “Should we stop them?” 

Charles leaned a bit forward to look at his two lovers. A soft smile formed on his face, before a smirk replaced it. 

“Nah.” 

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlm @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicore @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-su @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

#f1 x driver!reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x you #lestappen x reader #lestappen x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #charles leclerc #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula one fanfiction #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #formula one x reader

[mothdruid]

Within the past 72 hours the TGM fandom got a fire put under it's ass, for lack of a better term/phrase. Even though I'm not as active in the fandom anymore, it did make me want to talk about a few things. This isn't the first time that I've had to make a post similar to this, usually speaking about reblogs and keeping your fanfic writers feeling wanted within the fandom spaces, but today I'm going to talk more about fandom etiquette and my experiences in fandom spaces. So, if you want to hear my opinion on fandom etiquette, how I learned fandom etiquette, and my thoughts about the doxing situation that has happened, keep on reading.

My Fandom Experience.

The first fandom that I was ever a part of was The Hunger Games fandom in the 8th grade (if you don't include my anime fandoms). I was 12-13 at the time. This was when I was first introduced to Tumblr and being involved within a fandom online. At the time I was super young, barely even knew who I was as a person, let alone in a fandom space. All I did was reblog little gifsets and fawn over Josh Hutcherson. I remember getting my first hate anon, even though I didn't do anything that would generate that to even happen. Even when I was 12-13, I couldn't understand why anyone would send a hate anon. That was when I found out a friend of mine found my Tumblr and actually secretly hated me, so she sent me hate anons. Still, before I knew it was her I didn't understand.

Fandoms were a formative part of my childhood. I think that main one that helped form me though was the Supernatural (yeah, I know, eye roll), Naruto, and The Hobbit fandoms. I had made friends on Tumblr and Instagram through these fandoms. During these times was when I had first started consuming fanfiction. Specifically, destiel and thilbo fanfiction. This is how I started to find the things in fanfiction that I loved, and the things that I hated. Instead of sending hate to the writers for their thoughts and stories that I didn't agree with, I would back out of the story or just scroll past. Not only that, I also started to use the filters on AO3 constantly, ensuring that I was only reading the fics that I knew I'd enjoy. Also, I was careful to read warnings and tags prior to reading the fic. Never once did I blame the writer for something that I knew I didn't like and accidentally read or read for see what it was about.

After high school was when I started getting into fanfiction writing. I've written for a lot of fandoms during this time. The IT movies, Total Drama, Haikyuu, Attack on Titan, Marvel, Bridgerton, Top Gun: Maverick, and currently ASOIAF. As a writer I've never gotten hate, thankfully, but I have had a lot of friends that have. It's sad to see so many people who take the time to write, whether it's enjoyable or not, receive hate. As writers we are simply expressing our creativity for the things that we love. Since posting fanfiction on tumblr, I have experienced a lot of people pestering for new updates and when the next fic is, and so have a lot of other writers on here. Even though people only know us as a little icon and username, fanfiction writers are people. We have lives outside of writing fanfiction. Everyone also isn't the same type writer. One person may easily write multiple fics every week, some of us take longer, and some of us are even just passion writers (me lol).

The TGM fandom has been one of the most negative fandom experiences I've ever seen/had. It is full of some of the meanest people/anons I've ever seen. From writers being attacked for fic ideas, people being sent hate for something that the anon has full control over, and people constantly expecting new stories to read on the daily. Yes, I do know that other fandoms have these issues, but it seems to be almost a weekly, hell, even daily thing within this fandom. A lot of the issues that I see happen in this fandom are from people who don't understand fandom etiquette.

Fandom Etiquette.

If you had noticed there was a few things I put in bold above. These are key things that I learned during my time that attribute to fandom etiquette. So without further a do, I'll list out some fandom etiquette rules that I follow all the time.

Don't send hate anons to people

Block/unfollow people you don't like

If you don't like an idea or fic, don't read it

Read through all warnings and tags that the writer provided

Use AO3 filters

Don't blame the writer/creator for reading things they created that you actively know you don't like

Writers/Creators aren't "content farms"

There are people behind these blogs/usernames, treat them like someone you'd see on the street

Writers/Creators are expressing love/passion for something, don't hate them for doing that

If you see something fandom related that you don't like, scroll past it or ignore it

YOU CURATE YOUR OWN EXPERIENCE (ESPECIALLY ON TUMBLR)

The Doxing Situation.

For those who are unaware but decided to read this anyways, recently there was a writer (Mama Mayhem) on here who got doxed from another writer in the fandom. Mayhem has since lost her job due to the doxing. This was apparently from her breaking HIPAA by posting a picture into a private groupchat/discord. This picture was posted almost a half year ago. Meaning that the person who reported/doxed Mayhem had known about this picture for months and only recently decided to do something about it.

I'll start by saying that I also work in healthcare, and know many other people here who do. I understand that a HIPAA violation is 100% an offense that gets you fired. I'm not excusing the HIPAA violation if one did occur.

Some people have brought up the idea that maybe the person that reported the picture, and doxed Mayhem, was doing it out of the goodness of their heart. Due to the timeline of it all, that doesn't seem likely. I had a previous coworker get fired for HIPAA violations and it took a total of a week from the initial report for her to be gone.

The biggest thing I want to convey is that TWO WRONGS CAN HAPPEN AT THE SAME TIME. Yes, if Mayhem violated HIPAA, it is wrong. But at the same time, the person held onto this information for months only to use it out of spite, pettiness, and cruelty, is wrong.

My Thoughts.

Due to Mayhem being doxed, a lot of people have decided to leave this platform, take indefinite hiatuses, stop writing, or move to AO3 exclusively., and I don't blame them. I'll be honest, I'm thinking about moving to AO3 exclusively now. AO3 feels a lot more rewarding in my experience. I already only post my fics for ships to AO3, so why not just post everything on AO3 (which I usually do).

I think a lot of people have forgot what it feels like to feel shame in something they say or do. When I say this, it's directed towards people who send hate or do other malicious things in fandom spaces. Fandoms were never this clique-ish and mean. I think it has to do with the pandemic, meaning that a lot of people who would have never joined a fandom did because they weren't allowed to do anything outside of their house. So, those mean girls that made fun of fandom girlies (g/n) previously, joined the fandoms and decided started bullying the people within them.

This situation is super shitty and people are now scared. It makes complete sense, especially after seeing someone, that many of you were close to, be doxed. A lot of people are scared of it happening to them now. I don't think this fandom will be the same after this situation, but who knows, maybe everyone will just forget and move on. Either way, I think I'll be taking a step back from the TGM fandom. I'll still be here, but until further notice, I won't be posting any TGM fanfiction. Maybe a gifset/picture here and there, but I don't think this is a fandom I feel comfortable writing for anymore.

If you've read all of this, thank you.

#moth talks #here it is #sorry it's so long but i couldn't convey my thoughts any other way

[that-weeb-in-ur-closet]

"Energized with all the glory."

F!reader x FAMOUS!Satoru Gojo

♡ Tags. Female reader x Satoru Gojo, rough sex, drinking, uses of the words "princess", "my pretty", "my dear", and "Pretty girl", swearing.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. THIS IS SMUT.

Satoru is beautiful, and that's an understatement. Short, fluffy white hair, smooth fair skin, long white eyelashes, long fingers, a slim yet muscular build, a silky voice, glossy lips, and of course, his hypnotic blue eyes.

So, it's no surprise that a modeling agency came to him one day, or that he became famous in three days, and of course, it's not a surprise you saw him in every magazine, every post you see on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, TikTok, you name it.

But, the supermodel saw you once, and was obsessed the very second it happened.

He just saw one of your random posts, and needed to know more about you.

So, he slid into your dm's.

...

And now, here we are, in his mansion, sipping red wine while you sit on his lap.

It was such a sultry and soft vibe, dim lights, him wearing a black tuxedo, and you wearing a beautiful red dress he bought you beforehand. And if you asked him why he did all this, he wouldn't tell you. Mainly because he himself doesn't know.

"Hm. I think you look really nice in that dress, my dear. It fits you perfectly, dontcha think?" He asks with his cheeky grin, booping you on your nose.

You nod in response, a soft smile on your lips as you look up at him. The wine is clearly expensive, maybe a bit too expensive for your liking. You're just a normal girl, living a normal life. You didn't expect this supermodel to invite you to his house, one of his many houses.

But, it all made sense after his endless compliments on how beautiful you are, and of course, it made even more sense when his hand started to wonder down your body, gently squeezing your nipples through the thin fabric.

"S-Satoru, H-he—" You get cut off by him pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, and you can feel his smirk from the way you try to hide your moan. His other hand starts to slip lower, rubbing against your thigh as you start to feel a poke against your ass.

"Hmm... It's okay, princess. Just relax for me, yeah?" He says with that charming smile, rolling up your dress to expose your panties that are soaking.

How can you say no? The supermodel let you in his house, gave you a fancy dress, fancy whine, and—he looks gorgeous. And, not very many people can experience this, so why not enjoy it?

And that's how you ended up in his bed, head pushed into the pillows, him ramming into you with the meanest thrusts you've ever had. You scream for him eyes rolling back while both your bodies continue to collide in a back-and-forth motion, him whispering "You're doing so good, my pretty— fuck- not many can take me this well~" he slurs out, leaning down to bite your shoulder.

"S-Satoru, p-please, be gentle— nghh- y-you-" You cut yourself off with a streaking moan when he goes faster, and you can feel his smirk when he talks.

"D-oh, why would I be gentle when I h-have the best pussy in the world r-right here?" He asks in a low and breathless way, voice high like he's about to moan or cum.

You don't answer, you can't answer. You just keep babbling his name, the feeling of him pushing in and out of you, hands rubbing circles into your hips, and his whines, it's all too much.

"Pretty g-girl, I-I fuck, I'm g-gonna c-c-" But he can't even finish his sentence when you clench around him. He cuts on the spot, strings of long and hot cum shooting into you. You follow suit, with him still grinding against you through both your orgasms, leaving you overstimulated and shaking, not to mention out of breath and about to pass out.

But, he quickly lets go of you and rolls you over, smiling as he pushes the hair out of your face. How does he look so pretty even after sex?

"You okay? Did I hurt you too much?" Yes. He hurt you a bit too much. But was it worth it? Oh, hell yeah.

You fucked a supermodel.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #satoru x reader #satoru smut #satoru x suguru #geto #gojo #gojo satoru #gojo jjk #satoru x you

[annwrites]

exactly what he needs, pt. 3 ♡ ⋆｡˚ | pt1 | pt 2

— pairing: nate jacobs x fem!reader

— type: ficlet (multi-chapter)

— summary: nate takes you shopping at the mall, to dinner, then bowling, before dropping you off at home.

— tags: having a great day with nate, even if he has ulterior motives

— tw: dollification, objectification, sexualization, emotional manipulation, pushing boundaries, guilt-tripping, drinking, eating

— word count: approx. 6.4k

— a/n: i have never been inside a nordstrom in my life, so i have 0 idea what their changing rooms actually look like. | baby-doll dresses | tennis skirt | blush | necklace

GIF by msgorillagripcoochie

Once you and Nate are on the road, he decides to offer you full access to his car's stereo once again—he has an aux cord stored away in the center console, which he'll only offer if you can't figure out how to pair your phone through bluetooth.

There's just something about the idea of his truck being saved in your phone that appeals to him. Hell, maybe he'll get lucky and you'll fuck up, letting it read your calls and texts, too. He wouldn't mind finding out who all you're talking to.

If he's lucky, it'll be people he knows. People he can spin stories to you about to get you to cut them out of your life.

He'd made the mistake with Maddy in letting her have friends. Like Cassie—he didn't need to list the problems she'd caused. Then there was Kat, always her enabling little sidekick. Even Lexi to an extent, who he knows you're also friends with. He supposes as far as female friends to have goes, Lexi is the better one to keep company with, but she's still Cassie's sister.

He knows he'll, in time, need to figure out a way to get rid of her. But that's a problem for future him.

"Would you like to play some music?"

You smooth out the skirt of your dress. "Sure. Do you have a uh-"

"It has bluetooth."

"Oh."

Great, you think, I get to spend the next fifteen minutes looking like an idiot as I fight to get the thing to pair with my cell.

Surprisingly, however, you get it to sync up rather quickly. You scan through your music, now sweating, wondering what song to choose. What if he thinks your taste in music is stupid? Then, you mentally shrug. He can take over at that point if he thinks so.

Eventually, a soft melody begins to drift through the cabin, low enough that it serves simply as pleasant background noise, until Nate reaches over, turning the volume up, making you shrink back in your seat.

You turn the room a shade heaven, and learn my name.

You flush. You shouldn't have chosen a stupid romantic song. You should've chosen anything else.

You look out the window, refusing to sing along like you normally would as the chorus starts.

No one ever will love me better than your everlasting love. I found only one way in and no way out...

You fold your hands in your lap, waiting for the damn song to eventually end.

Finally, once the tempo has faded, Nate turns the radio down.

"Is that one of your favorite songs?"

You glance at him, nodding.

He can tell you're embarrassed, but can't understand why. He thinks it sweet: one of your favorite songs being one about love.

He then wonders if you sing. Perhaps, if so, you'll do so once you're more comfortable being around him like this.

"I liked it."

"Oh, good," you say, still flushed.

He likes how easily he has that effect on you.

"So, where are you wanting to head to?"

You shrug, fumbling with your phone and turning some lofi music on instead now. Nothing with lyrics.

"Wherever you want to go is fine with me."

He likes that: you letting him choose for you. Letting him make a decision for the both of you.

He enjoys how easily agreeable you are today.

He hopes it's due to you feeling comfortable enough with him that you trust him to do so.

"Do you want to eat first, or would you like to go to the mall for a bit?"

You glance at the clock and see that it's only a few minutes past four. "I can wait a couple more hours to eat."

He nods, heading in the direction of the East Highland mall.

Once Nate has parked, he comes around to your side and you nearly slip on the running board, falling against his chest.

He catches you, helping you down.

You look up at him, your face a shade of red. "Sorry. Thanks."

Stupid klutz—should've worn boots, you think.

He shuts the door behind you, quickly locking the vehicle before placing his hand against the small of your back. "No problem."

As you enter the mall, a pair of men leave, glancing at you. Admiring you, from Nate's perspective.

His grip tightens imperceptibly, pulling you the least bit closer to him as he gives the men a nasty look.

Meanwhile, you're oblivious, instead overwhelmed by the sights and sounds and smells, the awful florescent lighting overhead. God, you hate crowds.

You look up to him, just wanting him to pick a store to get you out of the way of everyone milling about. Coming here on a Friday afternoon was a bad idea.

He looks down at you. "Where to first?"

He can see that you're nervous. His brows furrow. "Do crowds make you uneasy?"

You nod, your eyes staring into his, practically screaming for him to get you out of here.

He lets his hand drop to his side, then speaks again. "Do you want to hold my hand?"

You blanch.

Having something—someone—to ground you and lead you through the throngs of people surrounding you sounds nice enough, but what if someone from school is here and sees you? And won't it seem a bit childish? That you're that easily overstimulated that you have to hold another grown-person's hand in a shopping mall?

Just as you're about to tell him no—that you're ok—someone bumps into you, shoving you into his side.

Your hand quickly latches onto his.

Nate twines his fingers between yours.

You don't see the smirk on his face.

Nate leads you into Nordstrom, a store you've never been in before because you know it's far, far out of your price-range, but you don't object as you step inside, the crowds behind you fading away as quiet pop music plays overhead, only a handful of people browsing the racks of clothing.

You look up to him, suddenly unsure of yourself.

"You can look around, if you want."

You release his hand and he already hates the feeling of his palm being empty.

You step over to a rack of midi dresses and your eyes widen when you see a price tag for $120.

Nate keeps close to your side. "Do you like that one?"

He knows he doesn't—hates midi and maxi dresses—but he wants to buy you something today. Anything. He just wants to give you your first real present from him.

He doesn't count him bringing you breakfast everyday for the last week—despite your objections, even if you did always finish it with a grateful 'thank you'—as as much.

You place the dress back where it was hanging, shaking your head. You look up to him. "That dress it over one-hundred dollars. Nate, I can't afford to shop here."

Not unless they have a clearance section, you think. But even then...

Nate steps away from you for a moment, his attention now stolen away by a white babydoll dress with puffy sleeves. Fucking perfect, he thinks.

He grabs it off the high hook which it hangs from—something you'd never be able to reach—and goes to hand it to you.

"Try this on."

You hesitantly take it from him, a confused expression on your face. "Why?"

He shrugs. "I just think it'd look nice on you."

You hold it up to yourself, not liking that it comes up well-above your knees.

"I don't thi-"

"The changing rooms are this way," he says, nodding his head in the direction of the back of the store. He doesn't care to hear you argue. You're trying the dress on. He needs to see it on you.

He'd been picturing you wearing—essentially—that exact dress for over a week now.

He places his palm against your back, leading you to the desired destination.

Once you've reached the back of the store, Nate opens a wooden door to one of the changing areas and just stares at you, waiting for you to enter.

Finally, you sigh, stepping in.

"I'll be waiting right out here," he says before closing the door behind you.

You stare at yourself in the mirror for a moment, realizing just how different—how little—you look like yourself right now. But you consider it, perhaps, a good thing: forcing yourself out of your comfort zone, even just a little.

You'd been considering finally wearing the sundress that Nate had picked out for you for a few weeks now. It was nice of him to compliment it—you. You aren't entirely sure how you feel about your hair being down, however.

Finally, you hang the dress up that he'd handed you, deciding to get undressed. The sooner you've tried it on, the sooner you can be out of this over-priced boutique.

Nate sits in a chair directly outside of your changing room, watching your legs shift from one foot to the other, until, finally, your sundress pools at your feet.

His cock hardens, knowing just a few feet away is your half-naked body. He leans back, waiting a minute, then two, then he stands.

He gently knocks on the door and you jolt in surprise.

"Y-yes?"

"Do you have it on?"

"Yes..."

"May I come in? I'd like to see."

You balk. He wants to come into the changing room with you? Is that even allowed?

"Isn't that against some sort of policy?"

He likes how much of a good girl you are—no, fuck it, loves it—but in this moment his patience is wearing real fucking thin. "No one else is out here," he replies as gently as he can.

A beat of silence, and then the lock on the door handle clicks.

He quickly enters the changing room, promptly taking in every inch of you.

You look just how he had imagined you would.

You don't meet his eyes. "I look so stu-"

"Perfect," he interrupts.

You look up to him. "What? Really?"

He studies you for a moment, your wide innocent eyes staring up at him, waiting for him to answer.

He runs his fingers through the hair draped over your shoulder. He then runs his hand along that same shoulder down your upper arm, where it comes to rest. "Yes. I just wish you could see what I do."

You blink up at him, then sniffle.

"Are you crying?" He nearly cringes. That question had come out a bit more harsh than he'd meant for it to. He'd wanted you emotionally vulnerable numerous times for the last week so he could finally find a way in, and now here it is. He prays he didn't just fuck it up.

You nod. "I'm sorry. I'm just...no one has ever been this nice to me."

He almost breathes a sigh of relief. He hadn't hurt your feelings.

So that's all it's going to take with you: a few kind gestures, some nice words, a few soft touches, and you'd be like putty in his hands. His to mold as he pleases.

This was what being alone for so long had done to you: made you desperate for affection—of any kind.

You step a bit closer to him, unsure of yourself, unsure what you're doing or even why.

When he doesn't move, you press yourself against his broad chest, taking him completely by surprise.

Fine with being alone his ass. That entire statement had been utter bullshit. Not even you understand just how lonely you are.

Finally, he wraps one arm around you, holding you close, his other hand slipping into your hair, massaging your scalp.

You remain quiet, just focusing on his breathing, the beat of his heart, his warmth. When was the last time someone had held you like this? Hugged you? Shown you any form of affection or attention?

You'd truly thought you were fine without it.

Meanwhile, Nate's head is racing. God, you'd shown him just in this action alone just how easy it was going to be to manipulate you. A couple of compliments had nearly brought you to tears? Just wait until the two of you are in a relationship. No, starting tonight he'll begin pouring it on heavier.

But once you two are together? He'll fucking suffocate you with gifts and attention and love. And above all: sex. That will be his weapon. You're inexperienced. Know nothing about it. A few orgasm denials and Lexi will be long-gone from your life.

Then he'll no longer have to worry about the risk of her relaying stories of he and Cassie, or he and Maddy to you. Won't have to worry about his occasional shitty behavior toward them coming to light, driving—no, taking—you away from him.

If you ever find out about the choking incident...it'll be over before it ever begins.

He feels you snuggle the least bit closer to him and he briefly glances to the mirror to the side of both of you. He sees that your eyes are closed and your cheeks are flushed.

Finally, he pulls away and you look up at him, shame filling your features. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I-"

He gently grips your chin. "I didn't mind."

"Oh." It's the only reply you have. It feels inappropriate—being here with him like this. You're in a changing room together, for God's sake. You'd tutored numerous people before and never had you ever spent any amount of time with any of them outside of school.

But Nate is different. You tutor him in private, whereas all the rest had been at school or in public. There'd never been a chance at friendship with any of them. You'd convinced yourself that it was something you didn't need in the first place anyway. Told yourself you were better off alone.

High school is temporary, along with the friends that come with it. No point in getting attached to someone who won't be sticking around.

You know all too well about abandonment.

Nate will probably be just like all the rest.

You take a step back. "I should probably change."

"I never got to see the whole dress. Can you turn for me?"

You pause. "Like... Twirl?"

He crosses his arms, just staring at you.

Finally, you begin to slowly turn until you're facing him once again. "Ta-da,"you say nervously.

He turns toward the door, placing his hand over the handle. "It looks really cute on you, just so you know."

While you're busy changing, Nate quickly returns to the rack from earlier, grabbing the same dress you were currently taking off, along with another one, but in light blue. He then spots a pink tennis skirt and grabs it as well, with a matching flowy top. He takes all the items up front, to a register.

When you exit the changing room, you see Nate straight ahead, standing just outside the store.

You come up to him, glancing down to the shopping bag in his hand, then up to him with a concerned impression. Surely he didn't...

He shrugs. "Just something for my mom."

You smile, feeling relieved. "That's very sweet of you, to get something for her."

He just offers you his hand again, which you take after a moment.

As the two of you wander around, mostly window-shopping, you try to ignore just how nice it feels to be holding someone else's hand. To be touched at all. You briefly wonder if he thinks you pathetic now, after what happened in the changing room.

You glance up to him. "Nate?"

"Hm?"

"You're sure it didn't bother you?"

He doesn't need you to elaborate to know what you're referring to. He likes that you're insecure and emotionally fragile. Broken pieces in the palms of his hands.

That had been another issue with Maddy—she'd been too independent, too confident, too secure and comfortable with herself. Whereas Cassie had known what he wanted and had tried to mold herself into it, all in some attempt to keep him interested.

But you? You're clueless to the ways of men. You're just...you. Intelligent, book only in a book-smart sort of way. Sweet—so fucking sweet it makes his teeth ache. Quiet, and reserved—prim and proper and meek.

And he'd thought it before and would again—so. fucking. innocent. You have no idea the power you already have over him. And he wants it to stay that way. Wants to be the one in complete control this time around, without being given permission to be, like Cassie had given him.

She'd told him what she had wanted: him to choose her clothes, what she eats, to decide who she could talk to—the list went on and on. Because she had clocked him from day one—the type of guy he was—that he was desperate for control.

With you, it will be gradual, insidious manipulation until he's all you have left in your life to turn to. Until, one day, you look up, and everything is different and you have no goddamn idea how you've gotten to where you are.

He stops walking, still keeping your hand firmly in his, incase you decide to wander. "Not at all."

"I don't..." you shift nervously. "I don't know what happened. I'm not usually like that. I don't get emotional in front of other people, like, ever."

He gives you a kind smile. "It's ok, really. I just don't think you're used to it."

"What?"

"Kindness. Someone wanting to give you their attention and time. You don't have to worry, I still like hanging out with you."

You look down and he gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

"Good," you reply.

The two of you stop in at Sephora, and while you browse their lipglosses, Nate steps away, looking through their selection of blushes, until he finds a soft pink shade that he likes and he takes it up, quickly paying for it, and placing the small bag within the larger Nordstrom one. One more gift for you.

When you leave the cosmetic store, you excuse yourself to the restroom, and he goes into the Tiffany store next door, browsing their necklace collection, until he spots one that he deems perfect for you: silver, with a small diamond pendant hanging from it. He doesn't even bother looking at the price tag when he asks an employee to retrieve the item from a glass case and box it up for him.

He's waiting for you when you exit the restroom.

He takes your hand in his, not bothering to let you make the gesture this time.

"Hungry?"

You nod.

Nate, though he doesn't want to, bothers with asking where you'd like to go to eat as he watches you buckle yourself in—wishing you'd let him do that himself, but knows him taking such an extreme measure for your safety this early will do nothing more than freak you out.

You shrug. "I don't go out much, so I'm not sure what all is around here. You can choose, if you'd like?"

He smiles, unsure the last time he felt so happy and in-control as he shuts your door.

Nate takes you to a rather expensive bistro, perhaps twenty minutes away from the mall, his right hand itching to wedge itself between your bare thighs as he drives, but he doesn't dare touch you. Not yet. The only thing he has to keep himself in-check right now is the surety that, soon enough, you'll be all his to do with as he pleases.

Every inch of you.

When Nate comes around to your side of the truck, after he's opened your door, he takes things a step further this time, gripping both of your hips, helping you down. As he sets you on your feet again, before you can say a word, he speaks. "Didn't want to risk you tripping again."

He adjusts your dress and your hair, then takes your hand firmly in his as he leads the two of you inside.

You immediately feel regret in him bringing you here. You should've told him literally anywhere else, so long as it was cheaper.

The rustic décor alone screams pretentious. And you know the menu will be even worse.

But just as you think to tug on his arm and ask him to take you elsewhere, a hostess greets the two of you, leading you to a table in a corner near a window.

Nate pulls out your seat for you, scooting you in, then seating himself.

You both pick up menus, and you're thankful your face is hidden by yours when you see the outrageous pricing.

You can barely afford a small salad here.

"Have you been here before?" You ask, still hidden by your menu.

"Mhm, their food is pretty good. I thought you might like it."

Unless it's dipped in gold, it can't be worth what they're charging is what you want to say. Instead, you remain silent.

Finally, your server arrives. An older woman, with red curly hair, freckles, and a curvaceous figure greets the two of you with a smile. "Do you two know what you'd like to drink?"

Nate looks at you.

"Water, thank you."

She nods.

"It'll be one check, and a diet coke."

She nods again, leaving the two of you to each other.

You look at him, now panicking...just a bit. "You don't have to pay for me. It's fine, really, I-"

He lifts his menu, glad that it apparently works in getting you to be quiet about his spending money on you. Again.

You'd already freaked out enough over him bringing you breakfast for three days in a row, until the fourth when you finally ate in silence.

"I told you I was taking you to dinner. It was my idea to bring you here, so it's only fair that I pay."

You cross your legs at the ankle, unsure how to feel about that.

You simply lift your menu again, now even more unsure of what to get.

He sets his menu down, seeing that you're now hidden behind your own once again. "I know their choices can seem a bit overwhelming the first time you come here. Would you like me to order for you?"

You lower your menu. "You're sure?"

He gives a slight nod of confirmation.

It's then that your waitress returns with your drinks and you stay silent, sipping on ice water as Nate orders dinner for both of you.

As you wait for your penne alla vodka—all you know is that it's some sort of pasta—Nate stretches out his long legs under the table on either side of your chair.

"I've had a really nice time with you today," he says, a soft look in his eyes.

You wrap your sweaty hands around your cold glass. You smile. "Me too."

He crooks his head slightly to the side. "Would you like to go bowling after this?"

Your brows raise. "You want to?"

He nods. "I do if you do."

You glance out the window for a moment. "I'm not sure the last time I went bowling. I think when I was really little."

He leans forward, foot brushing against one of yours completely on purpose, so as to pull your attention back to him. "So is that a yes?"

You blush. "I guess so."

Nate glances up to you every few moments from his steak and rice, watching as you take small bites of your pasta.

"Do you like it?"

You quickly grab your napkin, wiping your lips. You nod, swallowing. "It's really good. You chose well for me. Thank you."

He smiles, his foot "accidentally" brushing against your leg again. "You're welcome, sweetheart."

You grow quiet again at the pet name, taking another bite of your meal.

Once the two of you have finished your dinner, Nate pays the check from his phone before standing, throwing two twenty-dollar bills on the table—you're impressed that he tips so generously—then pulling your chair out for you.

He twines his fingers between yours before leading you back out to the truck.

Once Nate has paid for a game of bowling for the two of you, you both go to your designated spot. You sit to put on the pair of hideous bowling shoes you've been given, until Nate sits on the small table in front of you, grabbing your foot and resting it atop his knee as he slips the shoe on your foot, tying the laces.

You laugh nervously. "I can do that."

He merely glances up to you, before doing the same with your other foot.

Once you feel well and truly like you have on a pair of clown shoes, you go first...and miss every single pin.

Nate stands behind you laughing. "It was a good try."

He'd not actually bothered watching you play, he'd instead watched as you'd bended over slightly, getting a brief flash of your pink panties before you released the heavy bowling ball.

You go to sit down. "Shut up," you say, clearly embarrassed.

Nate goes next...and of course gets a strike on the first try.

You tell yourself not to pout; that you're not a competitive person by nature.

"I'm just rusty is all."

"Mhm," he replies with a knowing smirk before leaning down, hands planted on either side of you. "I'm going to get a drink. Want anything?"

You glance behind you at the concessions, looking over their menu. Meanwhile, Nate looks you over. Your neck, which he wants to lick and kiss and leave hickies all over to mark you as his. Then down your dress at the swell of your breasts...which he wants to do the same to. Then your thighs that he wants to shove his face between.

When you finally look back at him, you jump, seeing that he's still looking right at you. "Oh, uh, maybe just a water?"

He reaches up, brushing some hair out of your face. "Not hungry?"

You shake your head. "I'm still full from dinner."

Right. Dinner.

"I thought at least some cotton candy," he replies, before walking away.

You're left sitting there, wondering what that was supposed to have meant.

When Nate returns, it's with two Budweisers and a bottle of water, which he hands to you.

You stare at the extra bottle he sets on the table as he twists the top off of the other one, taking a swig of it.

"Is that smart?"

He looks at you with a raised brow. "Hm?"

"Drinking...since you're driving?"

He smirks. "It takes a lot more than two beers to get me drunk, Y/N. But if it makes you that uncomfortable, you can always drive us back."

He's not sure how he feels about letting you drive his truck, in truth. He'd never let Maddy, and sure as hell not Cassie behind the wheel. He was more-so offering to see if you'd let on whether you know how to drive or not.

And he gets his answer, just like he was wanting.

"I...I don't know how."

He sits on the same table from earlier, your legs between both of his knees.

"Not at all?"

You shake your head, feeling a bit ashamed of the admittance. "No one has ever exactly been around to teach me."

You're no longer looking at him now, so you don't see the frown on his lips.

"I could teach you."

Your head jerks up. "That's probably not a good idea."

He takes another sip of his beer. "Why not?"

"What if...what if I hit something with your truck, or damage it?"

"I have insurance."

You nearly roll your eyes. "Ok, what if I hit a person?"

He notices your lip twitch, trying to fight a smile.

He grins. "It has a big bed."

You laugh and so does he. God, being with you is so easy.

He holds out the bottle to you. "Do you want a drink?"

You consider it for a moment, then of course shake your head. "No, thank you."

"Have you ever even drank before?"

You don't want to give him the answer to that either. "No."

"Really?" He asks, a bit of surprise to his tone—even if he isn't actually surprised at all. If it's 'bad' for you, he's sure you've never done it before.

You nod, feeling like a total fucking square. "How did they even give it to you in the first place?"

He stands, briefly removing his wallet from his back pocket and he hands you his fake ID.

"Oh."

"I can get you one made, if you want?"

You shake your head, handing it back to him. "I'm ok."

He likes you innocent and unknowing, but he isn't used to someone being so...within the lines. He can't tell whether he wants to corrupt you or not. Perhaps he'll just start with doing so in bed and go from there when the time comes.

Once he has you daydreaming about his cock, he'll move onto bigger targets.

He puts his wallet back away, then jerks his head back toward the bowling alley. "Your turn, sweetheart."

Halfway through the game, you get your first strike and you squeal in delight, causing a smile to breakout across Nate's face.

You jump up and down, then run toward him and he catches you in his arms just in time as you wrap your legs around his waist, only spilling a little of his beer. "I did it!"

He laughs, loving seeing you so fucking happy for just one moment.

"I see that, baby."

You're so pleased with yourself that you barely even catch the new term-of-endearment he's given you.

You look down at him, your hair falling over his face as he looks up at you. "Sorry, that was exciting," you say with a laugh.

One arm firmly holds you up, under you bottom, while the other comes up to cup your cheek. "I like seeing you happy like this. You don't smile nearly enough."

He should really make more of an effort to get you drunk before the two of you leave. He has a feeling you're a happy one, and if he's extra lucky—all the alcohol will go straight between your legs.

You beam at him again, trying to prove him wrong, and all he wants is to kiss you until you can't breathe.

Finally, he lowers you back to your feet and you sit, now excited, as he takes his turn again.

You skip through the parking lot, your hand in his, completely elated at having won.

And to your knowledge, it was fair and square.

Even if Nate knows otherwise.

He'd offered to buy another game, but you'd told him you were starting to get tired, so he'd agreed to take you home, even if he wanted to stay out with you all night. Preferably in the back seat of his truck with your clothes off and lying underneath him as he explores your soft, sensitive body.

Instead, you sit in the passenger seat, all smiles and giggles as he drives you back home.

He's in enough of a good mood himself that he turns up the radio, some song with thumping bass coming through the speakers, as he rolls the windows down, the warm summer night air blowing your hair.

Nate, now actually nervous—afraid he's about to ruin everything—reaches over, resting his palm over your bare knee.

You don't push it away. Instead, you simply glance at it for a moment, feeling something...something you're not sure how to describe at the sight of him touching you like that, and then lean back, content to leave his hand right where it is.

And so he does. The entire drive back to your place.

It doesn't matter how desperately he wants to, he doesn't move it any higher.

Once he's pulled into your driveway, he removes his hand, your leg now feeling cold, and kills the engine. You unbuckle yourself and turn toward him. "I know we said it earlier, but I had a really nice time tonight. Thank you, for dinner and bowling and just...today."

He reaches up, running his fingers through your now-tangled hair. "It was my pleasure. Maybe we can do it again sometime?"

You nod, smiling. "I'd like that."

He wants to lean across the console and kiss you, but once again tells himself no. Something he's quickly tiring of having to do.

He glances out the windshield. "I'll walk you to the door."

He retrieves the Nordstrom bag from the backseat before coming around to your side, holding it behind his back as he offers you his hand to help you down.

Nate walks you to your door, watching as you unlock it. He wishes you'd just come back to his house instead, but doesn't dare suggest as much. He'd rather you sleep in his bed with him than stay in this empty house where you're not safe on your own.

Even if he'd made sure you were a couple night this last week when he parked across the street, a couple houses down, pistol in his glovebox. Just incase.

You look up to him with a shy smile. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he replies, handing you the shopping bag.

Your brows furrow. "I thought this was for your mom?"

He shrugs. "I lied. I wanted to buy you something all day, but knew if I asked, you'd tell me no. This way was easier."

You're not sure how to feel about the fact he'd lied to you so easily. Had made—most likely, if the brand-name on the bag is any indication—a rather expensive purchase for you. You're just not sure why.

Before you can bother asking, he plants a quick kiss to the top of your head. "Hope you like it," he says before heading back to his truck.

Once you're inside and in your room, you immediately start pulling out the contents from the bag and setting them on your bed. Your heartrate only rises with each item. A small bag from Sephora, another one from Tiffany, and four clothing items from Nordstrom—one being the dress he'd asked you to try on.

You feel lightheaded at the price tags on the clothing. But when you look in the Tiffany bag—pull out the jewelry box and open it, you sit down on the edge of your bed.

A diamond necklace.

"Nate..." you whisper to yourself in a panicked voice, wondering what had gotten into him to think that this is ok.

Surely...surely this item is meant for his mom. He'd just accidently thrown it in with everything else.

You pick up your phone with shaking hands, drop it, then pick it back up once again and call him.

"Hey, everything okay? I'm not too far away. I can turn back arou-"

You shake your head, despite the fact he can't see it. "The...the necklace for your mom, you accidentally put it in with-"

"I didn't get it for my mom. Everything there was purchased for you."

You go quiet suddenly, forcing Nate to check that you're even still on the line. He waits for you to respond.

"Nate, I don't know that I feel comfortable with this."

He slams on the brakes, pulling off to the side of the road, throwing the truck in park. "With what?"

"It...it'd be one thing if you'd bought me some cheap keychain or t-shirt or something. But all of this...do I even want to know how much this necklace costs?"

"Probably not," he replies, nonchalantly. Even if he wants to tell you that it was over a grand.

You hang your head, pinching the bridge of your nose. "You don't need to buy me stuff to try and repay me for tutoring you. I do it for free because I like helping people."

"I didn't do it for that."

"Then why?"

How to say, without alarming you: it makes my dick hard spoiling and spending obscene amounts of money on you?

"I just wanted to give you a few nice things. That's all."

"Nate, I don't-"

"Listen, do you want to repay me?"

You go quiet again. Meanwhile, he wants to say, if you say yes: then do it in sexual favors, starting with letting me wrap you hair around my fist as I face-fuck you.

"How?"

"Enjoy it. Wear the white dress and necklace to school on Monday." He wants to throw in the blush, but doesn't, hoping you'll decide to use that all on your own.

You lay back on your bed. "It's all very nice and pretty, and I appreciate it immensely. But-"

"Do you want me to turn around and come get it?" His tone is now the slightest bit annoyed. "If you don't like it, you can tell me. You're not going to hurt my feelings. I'm sorry, I guess I fucked up."

You feel guilty now somehow. Like you're being ungrateful. Even if you hadn't asked for any of it. Maybe...maybe this is what Nate thinks you have to do to make friends: buy their affection?

When you grow up wealthy like he has, you reason, it makes sense.

"No, I'm sorry." Your voice is soft and gentle and feminine now, and he relaxes, his grip on his phone loosening.

You don't even realize it, but his sudden shift in mood had been so imperceptible that it had scared you.

All you do know is that you somehow feel wrong, but you're not sure how, exactly. So, you just brush it off and blame it on being tired. Blame it on anything but him.

"I'm just...I'm not used to people buying me gifts. It's very sweet of you. Thank you," you say as you lightly run your fingers over the soft material of the white dress he wants you to wear in a couple of days.

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

You're not sure how to feel about the pet names, either, but don't want to hurt his feelings again, so you ignore your discomfort.

"I'm going to go take a shower and throw my new clothes in the washer. Be safe driving home. Goodnight...again," you say it with a small laugh.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

#fic: euphoria (nate jacobs x reader) #nate jacobs x y/n #nate jacobs x you #nate jacobs x reader #nate jacobs imagine #euphoria x you #euphoria x reader #whew lad look at me exploring my emotional abuse trauma through my writing #i hope this chap doesn't suck‚ i feel like it sucks

[etherealily]

𝙒𝙃𝙄𝙋𝙇𝘼𝙎𝙃 // Nate Jacobs.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Dark. SFW, but discretion advised.

Cliffhanger or series? Haven't decided. Repost because of reasons.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc.: You're needed. Now.

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It's not like you even knew Nate.

You knew of him, sure, quarterback and shit, but still, it was unlikely your paths would ever cross.

Until they did.

Until he started following you on Instagram.

That shit... was so unbelievably odd that you almost blocked him because you thought it was a fake account. But then you saw the mutuals. Holy shit. This was legit.

The fact that his account was private didn't surprise you. Yours was public because you had nothing to post and his was private because he had everything to hide.

You sent him a request. No biggie. I mean, he had to accept, right? He was the one who followed you first - it was only fair. And if it took too long, then you could always unsend it, yeah? Yeah.

It didn't take too long. It barely took three minutes.

Okay. Cool. Weird but cool.

The next day at school, it was normal. You didn't acknowledge him, and he didn't acknowledge you. An average social media interaction. Good.

--------

Come Friday evening, you decided that watching Maddy cheer was a little less important than your deadline and building your portfolio.

She absolutely supported you (rolled her eyes and said 'whatever, nerd. You still love me, right?') but was a little upset about it (pouted and called you a cunt).

Three hours went by, and you surprised yourself with the amount of work you were getting done. This is great. Friday evening well spent. Work a bit more, and then-

Nate Jacobs tagged you in a Close Friends story.

Close Friends? Tagged? NATE JACOBS?

Okay, one : no fucking way were you on his Close Friends.

Two : there were virtually zero pictures of the two of you, so tagging you was moot.

Three : there was supposed to be a game starting about fifteen minutes from now, Blackhawks versus whatever pretentious team they were going to beat, so why the fuck was he even online?

(Oh, yeah, the Blackhawks were absolutely fucking awesome.)

The story was only text. Text and nothing more.

Y/N, accept my message request. Now. I am not fucking around.

What message request? WHAT the fuck was going on?

You frowned, immediately scrolling over to messages. Shit. There was a request.

A picture, along with six other messages.

This was so strange. It was especially strange that he found the time to text you, when he was supposed to be practicing throwing the old pigskin around for the victory of his school. But text you he did. As if him following you wasn't enough to give you whiplash. "Yo."

"You're not here." No shit, Sherlock.

"You should be."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? This was the most excruciatingly awkward interaction you'd ever had.

"You should be here. Come."

Did he think he was super macho with all this mysterious, vague, one-word bullshit he was spewing? You know what, you'd actually bet your entire school tuition he did. But you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of asking why.

"U don't just send requests to random people. Don't act like you don't know me. Don't ignore my texts."

"I'm fucking losing it. Come now or else."

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

This was the most random thing to ever happen to you. Nate Jacobs, some random jock you never even said one word to, was texting you as if you had been best friends since two years old and you had always been all rah-rah-go-team for him.

You were almost scared to open the picture. Instagram asked you if you were sure. Once, twice. You should have listened. But you didn't, and you were about to face the consequences.

Red. That was the first thing you saw, and the first thing that had ever grossed you out enough to physically throw your phone away.

So much red.

Above the red, concealed almost cruelly, was a black box with white text in it. For a moment, your eyes were overwhelmed, so overwhelmed with the monstrosity in front of you that you couldn't even begin to comprehend what the words meant. You picked your phone back up, squinting your eyes and blocking out the rest.

He must have noticed you accepted his request, because you saw 'Typing...' pop up way too fast for him not to have been waiting.

"I'll cut deeper if you don't show up."

Nate Jacobs was a cruel and manipulative bastard of a man who you would happily let die.

But not like this.

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You glanced at the screen and then back at the road, from time to time. There was no indication that he was typing. The 'online' sign still stayed. Okay. So he either just threw his phone away while still on your chat or he was about to-

Nate Jacobs started an audio call.

Clearly tonight wasn't going to be the night you stayed in and finished all your assignments, like you'd decided.

"Pick up or I'll fucking kill you."

Yup, that sounded about right.

You laughed, incredulously. The genuine threat wasn't lost on you, but what else does one do in this situation besides laugh at the absurdity of it all?

Better safe than sorry. You swiped up.

"Y/N, please just come."

It felt so weird to hear him say your name. It felt even weirder to hear him say 'please'.

"Why?"

"You need to be here." His voice was unwavering.

"Look, Jacobs, I'm sorry, but I have projects and assignments to work on. Not to mention, my portfolio-"

You wanted to see how far you could take it. He couldn't hear your car's sounds, and he couldn't possibly track your location, so according to him, you were still sitting at home, petulantly.

If he was joking, he'd just cuss you out drunkenly. If he wasn't, he'd... keep begging.

"Jesus fuck, Y/N, just come!"

"I can't. I'm sorry."

Keeping your calm was the best thing you'd ever done for yourself, the greatest form of self-care you could give yourself, because Nate Jacobs sensing nervousness was like sharks smelling blood in the water. Quick and bad.

"I have important shit, too, you know? Scouts are here, Y/N, please!"

"Look-"

"Coach, I know, just five more minutes - FUCK, Y/N, you gotta come.", he pleaded, his tone becoming far too pathetic to brush off.

"Why?"

"Why? Whaddayamean why?", he huffed out, frustrated, as if you were supposed to know this already.

2 + 2. What galaxy we live in. The colour of the sky. Why you were needed at the game. According to this asshole, all these things were common knowledge.

"I will cut deeper."

"Stop bullshitting, Jacobs."

You hoped to god that your voice didn't betray your bewilderment. This better be a sick fucking joke.

"I'm cutting."

"Stop."

"Coach says the five minutes are up, but I won't play without you here."

A video. SHIT. FUCK.

"What the fuck is your problem?!"

Actually, no. This better not just be a joke, because if the entire school was in on this shit, you would end up cutting him.

The grunts of pain and sharp inhales from his side of the call got more and more grotesque as you pulled into the school parking lot.

The school had an unsettling vibrancy to it after hours, and this was only exacerbated by the fact that you were supposedly the cause for a boy to slice through his own skin. It shouldn't have seemed this vibrant, this overwhelming, this vivid, this.... bright, but it did. The world moved at an eerily quick pace, like a carnival ride on LSD.

As you ran across the parking lot and gripped the gate to the stadium and basically swung right past it, you finally realized how fucking loud a crowd could be.

It was like they knew that their QB might be bleeding out because of you, because they seemed to scream loud enough to torture you for eternity.

Immediately manhandled by Chris McKay -another jock you had absolutely no connection to, but who seemed to have a very personal grudge against you-, you were pushed out of the locker rooms as quickly as you came in. Fuck's sake.

"Let me go , McKay!"

"Coach is trying to calm him down, and if he sees you, we got no idea what he might do, okay? OKAY?", he ordered, sternly, through clenched teeth as he shook your shoulders.

He was earnestly trying to be calm and gentle, but his fingers gripping harder and harder into your arms did jackshit to help his case.

"Okay."

He nodded, sighing in some emotion that seemed oddly like relief.

What, did he expect more of a fight? Did he expect you to be all 'no, I gotta see him now?'

You had no clue who the hell this bastard was, let alone what he wanted. No way were you going to kick and shout for him.

"What the fuck is his problem?", you asked, sighing against McKay's chest, exhausted.

He shrugged, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. "He's stressed about the game."

"So he cuts himself in my name? We don't even know each other, dude!"

"Okay, he isn't exactly the one you go to for rationality, alright?"

"Yo, the fuck's going on, man? The game was supposed to start-"

The other team's captain.

"Yeah, we're just, uh, dealing with a situation over here.", assured McKay, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from going ballistic at Nate. Or you. Most likely Nate. But even more likely you. "Tell your coach we're so sorry, and we'll be out in a minute, tops."

The other guy scoffed, grumbling as he stomped away, glaring more at you than McKay. What, did everyone know now?

"He thinks we're trying to hook up before the game.", explained McKay, patiently, almost embarrassed. "It's a thing some athletes do, 'for luck'."

Jocks were the weirdest fucking aliens to ever exist.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

Crimson traced paths through the blinding white of the bandages wrapped tightly like dependent vines around his palm. Noticing the lack of uniformity of white, Coach tsked. "We need more. McKay!"

"Yes, Coach?"

"One more, then you can send her in."

"She came?" Nate's voice, though feeble and exhausted - and now, hopeful - was heard through the tiny gap in the door that McKay made sure would remain tiny as he passed the last bandage to him, and you didn't want to admit it, but it broke your heart.

Ew. Nate Jacobs was breaking your heart?

Coach finished wrapping Nate up, and McKay guided you in, with both measured aggression and protectiveness.

Nate's eyes lifted and brightened up immensely, a feat you'd only thought possible by a lone spark igniting and breach every inch of a dry leaf.

"You came."

"Son, I don't know what the hell you were thinking-"

"No, no, Coach, she's here, we can play."

Everyone stopped breathing at that moment. What the hell did the self-wounding quarterback asshole just say?

"What'd you just say, Jacobs?"

"We can play. Y/N's here. This isn't my good palm, anyway, so it's fine. Let's go."

And just like that, Nate was back. The amount of theses that could be written on this sheer anomaly of a man, the amount of studies that could be conducted, the amount of shock anyone else in this situation would go through- all unheard of.

No one else could handle it, though, besides all the people right there in the room. The best friend : self-taught and well-versed in handling him, the Coach : the authority figure that could calm him down with a bunch of fatherly words and....

And you : no one knew what the fuck you brought to the table. But something told you no one else would have survived in your shoes.

"Alright... then...?" Even Coach was absolutely speechless.

Nate nodded briskly, shooting up with a sudden burst of energy as he smiled at you.

Smiled.

Ladies and gentlemen : Nate Jacobs was on crack, confirmed.

He drew you in against his chest with an extremely unprecedented jerk, and you locked eyes with McKay behind him as he did so.

Not crack. Probably fent.

Your questioning gaze- which obviously said 'what in the everloving fuck is he doing?' - was met with a shrug and a look which suggested he barely even recognized his best friend right now.

"Okay, let's go WIN this motherfucker!", shouted Nate, patting your shoulder and loudly clapping his hands together before sprinting out of the locker rooms into the cheering football field.

It was dressed entirely in Blackhawk colours and bathed in a fluorescent, sickeningly pale light that you had to now spend an hour and a half in. Ugh.

Whiplash or not, you were about to throw up.

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You know those moments after a surreal event? When you just... sit. Stare into space and... ruminate.

You were having one of those in your car. The game had ended, really well, too, with the Blackhawks winning by a landslide. Your windshield had never held such secrets before. You stared through it.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Bang.

You turned. Nate Jacobs' fist fell on your window more times than you thought was necessary. 'Unlock the door, Y/N.'

You shook your head. Not a fucking chance in hell.

"'Y/N, don't be difficult, unlock the fucking door."

Something in you told you that that would be the worst mistake of your entire life.

"I'm sorry, I just want to talk, yeah?"

You had no idea if he deliberately made it a point to rest his bandaged palm on the window in full display to manipulate you, or if it was just a coincidence.

Just a coincidence, right?

You sighed, nodding your head in the direction of the passenger's seat as you unlocked it. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He slid in, grinning as he shut the door.

"You catch the touchdown?"

"Yeah. I did."

"What'd you think? Smoothest match yet?"

"Sure."

His grin gave way to a lour as he scoffed. "Why are you so cold? Our school won."

"Why am I so cold? Why am I so cold? You asshole, you just cut yourself to make me show up!"

"Because you didn't show up when I asked nicely!"

"You're a psychopath." The effect of this word on him was oddly intriguing. He seemed to both be offended by it and seemed to get off on it.

"Can I just explain?", he sighed, sucking on his teeth for a moment as he watched other students, cheering, whistling, hooting and drinking, through your windshield.

You gestured at him to continue. He wasn't worthy enough of your words.

"You know athletes have...", he trailed off, searching desperately for the right word of vindication.

"Small dicks?"

"Okay, deserved.", he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Look, we have, like... superstitions, sometimes. For luck."

"Like the hooking up thing."

"How do you know about that?"

"McKay told me."

He scoffed, shaking his head as if his friend had divulged the biggest secret, as if he had broken some moral code.

"Alright, fine, whatever. But, uh, I pretend like it's not something I do, but I kinda have them too."

If he was about to say what he was going to, you were about to press into the wound just to watch him bleed again. How dare he.

"My, um, my first game, I bumped into you on my way to the locker rooms.", he admitted, clearing his throat as if to clear space for whatever he was going to say - because it was so obviously the solution to String Theory, like he was making it out to be.

But oh, shit. He actually was going to say it.

"And we won. The next game, I did the same again, by accident. Y'know, just, this time, I fist-bumped you."

"When the fuck did you-"

"You were drunk, and you were cheering all of us on with your friends. You went for McKay's fist, but I did it instead. Uh, yeah, anyway. So, from the... maybe fourth? Yeah, the fourth game, I made it a point to at least brush my arm past you. Haven't lost a game since."

Your touch was his good luck charm? Was he clinically insane? Or was he just a massive loser?

"What's next? Our rising signs are aligned?"

"It's not a fucking joke, Y/N!", he snapped, his fist clenching.

"Really? Because it's pretty fucking hilarious."

"You know how hard it was for me to even admit I had superstitions, let alone about some random nobody girl I've never even talked to?"

No, no, he was not trying to make you feel bad, no goddamn way.

"You know how hard it was for me to see some random nobody guy bleeding out because of me?"

"It wasn't that deep." The pun was intended. It was so evidently intended that you wanted to slap the smirk off his lips.

"Yeah, okay, get out."

"Okay. You better show up to the next one, babygirl, or I'll have to take more drastic measures."

The audacious son of a bitch ruffled your hair and winked before he left.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

"C'mon, Y/N, don't be a cunt. Just do it. High five me. Fist bump me. Hug me. Whatever. Just do it, I've got a game to get to. And... everyone's watching."

The very next weekend, there was another game. Last game of the season. And you were supposed to be there, of course, because Nate's 'entire life depended on it.' And what's worse? He'd dragged you there, from your internship.

That's right. He'd basically come to your place of work, interrupted a conversation with your boss, and tugged you along with him because of his borderline insane obsession with having to touch you for luck.

He could have gotten away with it, too, if his 'good luck charm' theory hadn't involved you having to make contact with him right before the game.

And now you were out there on the field. Backing away from him. Refusing.

"Y/N, please."

"Fine."

You slapped him across the face, as hard as you possibly could.

The entire football field gasped.

He'd fucked up your week with the picture of the blade carving into his skin, and now, he was fucking up your career by costing you your internship. And what's worse, he didn't even care.

"Go. Play now."

He clenched his jaw, closing his eyes to suppress his rage before he opened them again. "That's not how it works. It has to be mutual. Like a fist bump. Or bumping into each other."

"Oh, okay.", you shrugged, grabbing his wrist before using it to uppercut him. "NOW go. PLAY."

You didn't know if you were being 'whoo'd or 'boo'd by the crowd, but at this point, the only thing you could hear was the red hot fury in your boiling blood.

He bit his lip as you let go of his hand, and before he jogged out onto the field, you could have sworn he said something that, if you'd heard it right, could cut through your entire soul and ruin your self-perception for years - something absolutely, shatteringly degrading.

You hoped you'd heard wrong.

Taking your seat in the stands, you scrolled on your phone, ignoring the entire fucking game. As expected, text from your team leader.

Gone. Internship gone. LoR gone. Nate Jacobs? About to be gone.

-------

He won.

He. Fucking. Won.

And that smirk that he gave you before blowing you a kiss that immediately morphed into flipping you the bird made you want to genuinely ask him to recreate that video once again.

You hated yourself for it, but yes.

You wanted him dead.

All the trauma he'd given you the past week couldn't be left unpunished.

Oh, to knock him off his pedestal. OH, to be the one to make him scream in pain instead of arrogant mirth.

"Whoo! Nate FUCKING Jacobs, baby!", he cheered in your ear as you gritted your teeth, walking back to your car. "And, of course, you."

You threw your bags into your car, ignoring him as you get in, starting the engine. He thumped on the hood of the car. "Come on, you can't still be mad! Your boss was looking down your shirt, anyway!"

"Oh, and I'm supposed to believe you did this out of the goodness of your heart?", you scoffed.

"That's right, baby, chivalry ain't dead."

"No, but you're about to be. Get the fuck out of my way."

"Hey, I need a ride. Gimme a lift."

"No chance in hell, Jacobs."

"Stop wounding me. Let me in."

"Or what?"

"I'll break your window.", he shrugged, casually. Normal things. The sun will rise tomorrow. Seasons will change. He'll break your window.

"I wouldn't be letting you in if I didn't think you were psychotic enough to actually do that."

He chuckled, sitting as he rested his duffel bag on his lap. A couple moments later, he looked up at you. "What? What are you waiting for?"

"Tell me where to go."

"You don't know where I live?"

"Okay, let me explain this to you, slowly. I didn't know jackshit about you till, like, a week ago. I didn't know your age or what kind of car you drove, or even what classes we shared, much less where the hell you live!"

"All this shit just proves that you don't observe people around you. You only care about yourself."

"If I only cared about myself, you'd have bled out last week."

He sighed playfully, resting his feet on your dashboard because he very evidently knew you would have a neurotic breakdown. "I, for one, know your age, the kind of car you drive, all the classes you have, plus your favourite colour and food."

"The first two are moot.", you replied, ignoring his silent mockery of the word 'moot'. "Next, you know I'm in all of Maddy's classes. And the rest you can find on my account. Account stalker."

"Account stalker. God, sweetheart, you're such a child. You don't want your account stalked, don't have a public one."

"I barely even post anything!"

"Oh, yeah, what about last month?"

He was looking at your profile last month? "I'd gone to France. It was a photo dump."

"It was unnecessary."

"Okay, you know what this is?"

He raised a brow.

"This is post-game audacity, is what I call it. You won. You're Mr. Big Shot, so you think you can just-"

And that's when Nate Jacobs kissed you.

To call it the worst fucking moment of your life would be a massive understatement. "Drive."

"You did not just fucking kiss me."

"You want me to do it again?"

"NO."

"Then drive."

This motherfucking bastard of a man!

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"You wanna come in?"

No way in hell were you going into Nate Jacobs' house. Especially when there was a party going strong.

"I'm good."

He rolled his eyes, his arm leaning on the top of the window as he leaned in. "I don't bite. Initially."

"Ooh, you don't bite initially, oh, please let me come in right now! Shut up and get in, Jacobs."

"You've earned the right to call me Nate. Congrats. Begin using it."

"Why? We're never talking after this."

He scoff-snickered. "Oh. OH, so that's how it is.", he nodded, amused.

"Yeah, yeah, that's how it is."

He guffawed, banging on the hood of your car. "This ain't funny anymore. Come in."

"What? No."

"Is there really only one way to ask you to do something?"

"No, Jacobs, don't you dar-"

But he didn't listen. When did he ever? His fingers emerged from his pocket with his knife in tow. NOT AGAIN. This was the most cunning, calculating, manipulative, Machiavellian-

"I'm cutting. This time, my wrist."

"You're so fucking dumb, y'know that? You're psychopathic."

The grin on his face showed that you were wrong. He wasn't offended. He was 100% getting off on it.

Drops of blood reached the floor, and you realized you couldn't just drive off and leave this guy here - he'd probably still be cutting just to prove a point.

"I hope you die.", you mumbled, getting out of your car and slamming the door.

"I'm trying, dude!", he laughed, pointing at his wrist. Oh, this sick bastard.

"Not dressing that wound?"

"C'mon, blood is sexy. Badass."

Nate Jacobs was about to see how 'badass' blood could really get.

And when you were done beating the everloving shit out of him, you kissed him. Because he deserved to know how infuriating that shit was, too.

The next day at school, it was normal. You didn't acknowledge him, and he didn't acknowledge you.He didn't seem to care about the fact that you hit him so hard he almost had a concussion. An average social media interaction. Good.

How it should be.

But then he texted you.

Fuck.

#nate euphoria #euphoria x reader #euphoria #nate jacobs x y/n #nate jacobs x you #nate jacobs #nate jacobs x reader #nate jacobs fic #nate jacobs fanfic #euphoria fic #euphoria imagine #nate jacobs imagine #euphoria x you #nate jacobs fluff #euphoria fluff #euphoria dialogue #nate jacobs blurb #nate jacobs imagines #nate jacobs oneshot #nate jacobs hc #nate jacobs drabble #nate jacobs fanfiction #euphoria smut #nate jacobs smut

[ashethecoolperson]

OUU WAIT.. can you do a dom x r where essentially they’re both in the judgement day and there tg but hide it cus they think it’ll ruin the dynamic of the group. so like HIDDEN TOUCHES, GLANCES, THE WHOLE SHEBANGHG😫

No One Will Know

A/N: This is like one of my first requests so apologies if it’s bad 😭

Dom is my favorite himbo thooo 💗

Tags: Mentions of sex, kinda sorta allusions to smut but not really, Rhea knows everything, some spanish 🤭

“Where in the hell is he?” You thought to yourself as you walked around backstage. You two had driven to the arena together, and you went to talk to Rhea for a minute, then he was just..gone.

“Dom?” You called out as you neared the dressing room. A chorus of ‘he’s not here’ rang in your ears but you continued on anyway. Dom wouldn’t just up and ditch you like this.

You walked next to a janitor’s closet when suddenly you got pulled in, pinned against the door by him.

“Did I scare you, mami?” He asked as you looked straight up at him, honestly stunned at how close his face was. His hand gently brushed away some hair from your face before moving back down to grip your waist. Your eyes darted between his eyes and lips. He smiled sweetly, but it didn’t make the butterflies in your stomach settle. He really wanted to kiss you, and you couldn’t help but wonder what this little surprise even was.

“Why were you just..hiding in the janitor’s closet?” You asked as he started peppering kisses onto your neck, leaving goosebumps all over your skin. You closed your eyes, trying desperately to calm your heartbeat. It only seemed to speed up more whenever he did that.

He finally stopped kissing you and whispered, “Just wanted to surprise you, mami.” He leaned down and pressed a light kiss into your jawline. When his lips met yours it left an overwhelming sensation behind. One that made you want to pull him closer and never let go again. His hands traveled lower on your body until they found their place around the base of your thighs, lifting you up and holding you flush against him.

While you two kissed, you both heard a knock, breaking the kiss as you two looked at each other and contemplated what to do. He smirked, “Maybe we should get going. Wouldn’t want anyone to think we snuck off or anything.” You blushed as he slowly placed you back on your feet. He reached forward to grab your hand and you intertwined your fingers with his.

The rest of the evening passed by pretty quickly, then RAW started and both you and Dom were hanging out in The Judgment Day clubhouse, waiting for your segment to start.

Dom was currently on his phone while he occasionally shot glances at you. You were looking through your Instagram feed, reading the posts about Dom’s match today.

You always enjoyed getting to see what fans were thinking of your boyfriend, your Dom. It made you feel special.

Your thoughts were interrupted by him putting an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. You looked up at him with a raised eyebrow and a smile. He returned it with a smirk of his own before he spoke, “You know how I always get sweaty after my matches?”

You nodded slowly, “Yeah…”

“Well, I could use a shower tonight so…want to join me?” He mumbled so only you could hear and gave you another smirk that made your knees weak.

You tried to play it cool as you tried comprehending what he said and why the fuck he sounded so hot saying it, before he just smirked and whispered, “Piénsalo, mami.” Before walking off.

He turned to look over his shoulder at you with one final wink before disappearing from sight.

What the fuck just happened? You thought to yourself as your mind raced to catch up with everything Dom said. You knew Dom had a dirty streak. He definitely liked to tease people, and you knew that he did that because he liked seeing them blush.

While lost in your own thoughts, Rhea approached you and tapped you on the shoulder, almost towering over you because of those big ass platform boots she always wore.

“What’d Dom say?” She asked, snapping you out of your thoughts as she looked at you expectantly. You blinked a couple times before answering. “Oh y’know, just shit about how he’d win and all that.” You lied, and Rhea raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Uh yeah. Why?” You felt stupid for lying to her. She was your best friend, sure, but that didn’t mean you could tell her everything.

“No reason, just wondering why I heard stuff in you two’s dressing room last week.” She said with a shrug, and you immediately blushed and scrambled for a reply, knowing damn well what you two were doing. After you caught your breath, you said, “Oh, uh he was just talking to me about some stuff, you know, personal stuff.” You lied, (again), and Rhea nodded with a scoff.

“Personal stuff? So why was he saying ‘oh fuck, right there mami’?” Rhea asked again, sporting a smirk as your face was flushed. She heard?! Well, shit.

“Don’t worry,” She laughed as if she sensed your panic, “I won’t tell anybody.” You let out a sigh and relaxed a bit, smiling at her. “Thanks..” You trailed off, still unsure of what else you could say without being too obvious about how embarrassing this even was.

“No problem. But don’t fuck in my dressing room, please. I like having a clean room.” You chuckled nervously and nodded, thanking her before walking towards the monitors to watch Dom’s match.

While he was doing pretty good (still paired with that fucking bobblehead, you hated that guy) he kept doing moves that made you wince or go ‘damn’, knowing full well that he’d be okay.

Obviously they lost because of JD, but Dom didn’t care as he just went over towards you, smiling as he looked down at you.

“Did I do good?” He asked, his smirk growing wider.

“Yeah, but you keep scaring me with those big ass flying moves. You’re gonna bust your face open one day cause of that.” You said as you crossed your arms, and he pouted like a child before rolling his eyes.

There was a beat of silence before you smirked, looking at him as you fiddled with those shirts he wore around his waist.

“Hey, Dom?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m ready for that shower now..”

#dominik mysterio #wwe #dominik mysterio x reader #the judgement day wwe #wwe judgement day

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

kdnfb's Ten Years of Fanfiction Mania

Featuring: Unmasked

Summary: Written under an Anonymous pseudonym ~M~ to fill the following prompt ~ Historical Katniss and Peeta hate each other. They attend a masquerade ball and for some reason end up kissing each other. Sparks fly everywhere. Katniss tries to find the man behind the mask but Peeta knows it was Katniss though he doesnt say anything. They end up bethrothed even if they 'despise' each other. How they fall in love is up to u and how katniss figured out it was peeta is up to u

Rating: E for explicit sexual content, explicit language, implied/referenced rape/nonconsensual (not everlark), implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced suicide, implied/referenced miscarriage, discussions of illness, war, and injury in a historical setting, ptsd, minor character death. They worst of these tags happens offscreen and is merely discussed and dealt with rather than shown here.

A/N: ~Unmasked~ is my longest fic in terms of word count (around 234k), although Outside Chance and Spellbound are not too far behind and are both incomplete. Unmasked started as something meant to be fun and cathartic, then turned into a ridiculously long and self indulgent fic that I still, to this day, have no idea if the anonymous person who submitted the prompt to @everlarkficexchange even read, let alone whether or not they liked it. But I love what I produced for this fic.

Why write it anonymously and only reveal myself later? A couple reasons. 1) Historical is not my wheel house. At least not writing it. I am a shameless consumer of historical romances. I did some research for this fic but not nearly the level I would've liked to have done. Eventually, I said screw it, it's about the vibes not the accuracy. 2) I had a pile of unfinished wips when I started this, to include Outside Chance and Spellbound (both of which are still unfinished hmmmmm) and I really didn't want a lot of questions about when I was going to get back to those while I was working on this because 3) I'd just gone through a small slice of writerly hell to the point that I seriously considered deleting my entire tumblr and all of my fanfic. Details are not important right now, the result is. That's probably the closest I've ever come to calling myself done with fandom.

Then this prompt posted to EFE and wouldn't leave me alone. Eventually, I decided that if I was going to write it, I wanted to write it with as little pressure as possible. So I chose to write and post it as ~M~ until it was finished. Plus, I thought it might make it fun for people other than me if there was a bit of mystery behind it. And I don't regret doing that.

Writing behind a mask allowed me to be as long winded and self-indulgent as I wanted to without worrying about how tight the storyline was or how accurate the historical details were, or wondering if I'd be walking into my tumblr and a barrage of the kind of messages I'd come to dread receiving. The only thing I worried about, really was if the amount and kind of smut I included gave me away prematurely lmao.

While this was my first real foray into the realm of historical fics, I am hoping it's not the last. I've got too many ideas and half started pieces to back out of it now. But those, like this one, will probably remain untethered to a specific real place, and a specific time, mainly because I just don't have that kind of time for research if I'm not getting paid to do it lol. They will be works of love if not works of accuracy.

Unmasked on AO3

#ten years of fanfiction mania #unmasked #unmasked nonsense #i meant to post this like three weeks ago #ooops

[metalandmagi]

It kind of just occurred to me how much the queer community is winning this summer. We had Nimona. We had Barbie (ace Barbie, Allan, just queer vibes all around). We had Good Omens season 2. We had Heartstopper season 2. We're getting High School Musical: The Musical: The Series season 4 and Red White and Royal Blue two days apart from each other. We even have The Witcher finally delivering with Jaskier (or at least it did in the first part, haven't watched part 2 yet).

I don't know where I was going with this. I'm just happy about it.

#lgbt #barbie #nimona #good omens #heartstopper #rwarb #hsmtmts #and for all the people in the tags going “why the hell is there a show called high school musical the musical the series?” #allow me to explain: the show is about a group of theater kids putting on the stage version of HSM (at least in season 1) #therefore: it's High School Musical: The Musical...but it's also made in the mocumentary format...hence “the series” #it's ridiculous and hilarious but we've all embraced it

[doodleodds]

Me? Uploading a Halloween comic on November 18th, almost four whole-ass weeks late???? Yeah that’s uh. yup. yeah

Thanks for reading! :) <3

#persona 5 #p5 #akira kurusu #OUGH OH MY GOD ITS FINALLY. DONE. I AM LOSING MY MIND #if you've been following me for long enough: yes! this IS in fact the comic i mentioned that i was making last year. #Fun fact! This is also! The Third Draft of said comic!!! i have redrawn this thing THREE FUCKING TIMES #as a result you may notice that i uh. a) gave up on coloring this thing. no way in HELL am i coloring 30 pages. im not...strong enough #you will settle for simply having monochrome colored panels and you will LIKE IT!!!!! >:OOOOO #and b) gave up on backgrounds! yeah fuck that lmao. i am never drawing people in the monabus again and mementos can kiss my ass!!!!! #i just want to draw my silly little characters & not their environments #and you may also say: sophia. by halloween they are already in Sae's palace. why isn't goro with them and where's haru? #and to that i say shhhh suspend your disbelief. akechi is in mementos carving pumpkins to avoid trick or treaters. #and also haru isn't there because i cannot draw 6+ people in a cramped space yet!!! my art skills are Just Not There Quite Yet :( #so she's staying home and handing out fullsized candy bars to kids. that's where she is while this is all going down #'does akira know it's akechi down there?' :) that's up to you! but i WILL say that I was thinking about Akeshu when i wrote this so. :)))) #ANYWAY if you read this far in the tags im so sorry lmao. thanks for sticking around! Hope you had a happy halloween :) #hopefully i won't disappear for long this time. idk im just gonna start uploading other bullshit art in the interim between comics i guess #probably some fire emblem shit. we'll see. we'll see. anyway bye!! till next time!

[tarisilmarwen]

"Thrawn only joined the Empire to help the Chiss!"

Okay sure but have any of you bothered to self-examine why Thrawn chose to join the Empire instead of, say, the Republic, when that was still around? Or why he didn't chose to throw in with the Rebellion, put his tactical mind to use helping them overthrow the Empire quicker?

Could it be... perhaps... that maybe he values the Empire's military strength... more than he cares about the authoritarian tyranny with which it oppresses its own people?

Is it possible that he thinks the Empire's main problem is that it isn't effective enough, too much politicking getting in the way of sound strategy, but if he's around (and in charge) he can guide things so that those annoying little wrinkles (AKA the pockets of discontent and rebellion and fully justified anger at their rights and freedoms being trampled on) are all smoothed out and the overall Imperial machine is better, more in control of its assets, a stronger more unified bulwark against the outergalactic threat of the Grysk or the Vong or whatever.

Is it perhaps just a bit self-centered of him to only care about the Empire's ability to service his own goals and desires and be apathetic (at best) to the way it makes people suffer daily under its inherent systems? The Twi'leks and Wookies being constantly kidnapped and sold into slavery? The careless industrialization of arboreal worlds? The socialization and absorption of all private industry, forcing everyone to work through and with the Empire if they want to work at all? The systematic persecution of anyone remotely Force Sensitive? Is it not the mark of some kind of soul rot to be aware of all of that and go, "Yeah, but I don't care, they have the bigger guns, which is what I need."?

Maybe... just maybe... Thrawn has some Machiavellian tendencies and opinions and maybe this just might... make him not entirely a good person?

And maybe y'all should think about that before you come back and whine about his portrayal as a villain, as if all he has to do is explain to people that he did everything for a good reason and he gets an automatic narrative pardon for all of the shit he did while Grand Admiral that still needs to be addressed and answered for.

#yeah another thrawn rant has been brewing for a while #listen it's not that i don't want thrawn to have depths and pathos and dimensions to his character #what i'm saying is that NONE OF THAT MATTERS ONCE HE JOINED THE EMPIRE #because he sure as hell didn't work to subvert the empire at all even knowing the kinds of things they do #so no i'm sorry there is no clean 'i had good intentions' moment #where everyone just arbitrarily accepts his Sad Backstory and declares everything okay #him doing everything he did 'for his people' does not mean the people he DID hurt don't get to demand and expect justice #what annoys me is not that thrawn has complex motivations #it's that fandom seems to think the motivations cancel out the MEANS and METHODS #which is why in all their stories thrawn gets to just go home and have a happily ever after with eli vanto or whoever #that is not what is going to or what should happen in canon guys #not fandom tagging this if you see it it's your own dang fault for being out in the wilds of the untamed tumblr search #dunking on the blue bastard #star wars #star wars rebels

[cheese-water]

I know I’m late but idc that person who tried to spread fake allegations about tubbo is so fucking stupid. Like yeah, the obviously fake story is telling enough but their lack of forethought as to what they’re actually doing is just crazy.

They outright used Tubbo’s name and blatantly accused him of a crime that he didn’t commit. AND if his viewers can defend him based on the limited evidence we have, I can only imagine what his lawyer could do if given the opportunity. This random person has potentially put themselves in so much legal trouble and for what? goddamn twitter likes???? Like congratulations, thanks to your actions not only will you rot in hell but also possible rot in jail as well.

It hasn’t even been a month since Cellbit’s twitter calúnia case was made public and yet we still have people who don’t understand that their actions have consequences ESPECIALLY IF ITS FUCKING ILLEGAL

#discourse #tubbo #cellbit situation #ig #ask to tag #THATS THE FUCKING LAW #WHEN YOU DO A CRIME #YOU GO TO JAIL #anyway whenever I see of critics of victims stories saying there’s not enough context or it’s too vague or too much “flowery language” #my eyes roll into the back of my head #like first of all shut the fuck up #if you’re only opinion of abuse accusations is about minimizing the victim #nobody wants to hear it #and second of all you really don’t understand the severity of these situations #there are reasons why abusers identities were confirmed indirectly and not on stream #amongst more legal jargon victims have to hoop through if they ever want to share their story #always support victims #just be aware of what you read and believe #stupid people have a hard time pretending they’re not #and anyone willing to falsely accuse people who can and will sue the hell outta them is stupidity itself

[raisinushigher]

fuck this show

#FUCK THIS SBOW #likeee what. a little over a week and its happening again. #ANYWAY obligatory abe is so fucking cute and im so excited to see what’s going on with him this season #like. the way hes wearing that oversized suit??? him looking all angry with an eyepatch while everyone else is happy? WHY WAS HE CRYING- #-HALF NAKED IN THE CEMETARTY😭😭😭ALSO THAT LOOKS LIKE SOME SORT OF APOCOLYPSE EPISODE WHICH. IF THATS THE CASE #HELL FUCKING UES!!! #also i can’t deny it im scared like For My Life that something bad with /kahlopatra will happen #like. just based off that one clip with frida looking at cleo bullying people. IDK MAYBE ITS POSITIVE BUT #IM SCARED!!! #sorry i hid a good chunk of my thoughts on the trailer in the tags of dumb fucking tophabe post SORRU #clone high #clone high spoilers #tophabe #abetoph #mine

[danwhobrowses]

Okay sure just split the group again I'm sure nothing could go wrong this time dividing them into sub-groups to sting at high levelled and relatively unknown areas with high risk and high threat of boss level enemies in the vicinity and then go on another break to make us stew on that, it's fine IT'S FINE!

#critical role #bell's hells #cr spoilers #c3 e89 #critical role spoilers #the volition #ruby vanguard #the imperium #ruidus #unseelie court #universe really gotta hit me with Frieren season finale and CR going on a break AND One Piece going on a break! #it's like you want me to have nothing to do on Friday #honestly how many times in all 3 campaigns has splitting up worked? Not a lot Matt it's just evil PCs have died #my Callowmoore heart of course is relieved that Ashton and Fearne are in the same group this time - they're not gonna lose her again #maybe we can sneak in some combo moves for Bearne and Bashton - play a bit of holies #but still it's difficult to gauge how to deal with Athion plus maybe a dragon indoors plus Ira's willingness to leave people behind #Otohan and Ludinus can be lurking anywhere too #we still have no idea where Ryn is being kept either #the Liliana assassination attempt is doomed to fail and as much as it's a terrible choice I think Imogen needs to let her go #she talks about Ludinus like an abusive lover but acts blind to the cries of the people she says she's protecting #like woman go home! If they need you then removing yourself from the board stops them that's why there's a target on your back #but we all believe in Gaz supremacy at least #and more moon lore always gotta have the moon lore #tag reader's bonus: turtles live in every continent except antarctica #idk usually I have this many tags in ship posts so I drop a headcanon but this is more just panic so you get a nice turtle fact

[synthaphone]

im tired

the stuff happening in moderneo is indicative of a trend i've been seeing in neoclone art contribution, which is that artists who come in to work on pet colors often clash because they're coming from two majorly different viewpoints:

its for fun so don't take it too seriously and just be creative- if the site runner likes it then its good to go

its for a website that's seeking to recreate the neopets experience, so we should strive for the art we make to match the existing art in style and quality

neither of these are incorrect approaches for a volunteer collaborative project, and i think its up to the people in charge of each respective neoclone to clearly establish which of these ways they want their art team to approach the pet colors, in order to prevent conflict i'm definitely in the latter camp, and have also been called a bully on a couple different occasions for offering gentle critique. seeing very level headed and reasonable points be reacted to as though they're evil bullying makes me want to spontaneously combust. sometimes, on a collaborative project, you'll end up feeling bad when you receive critique or pushback on an idea you had. and that feeling sucks!!! but that doesn't mean that the people who gave you the critique were bullies. seeing professional artists get treated like dangerous cruel people for approaching a project like professionals makes me feel insane.

like okay, if its not a professional project and the more 'anything goes' atmosphere is whats wanted, then fine!! but you have to make that clear- and even IF that's the goal, i think its unreasonable and immature of any participating artist to demand zero critical feedback on the designs that they're submitting to the website for everyone to be able to adopt. also, if the project isn't going to be approached like its professional work, you can't expect consistent professional quality artwork, because you cannot get that from an environment that doesn't allow for critique or style direction

#i need a text post tag #also why join a collaborative project submitting art for a site everyone will use #if you get really upset at critique? #i don't understand why people don't realize how selfish that comes off? #making art for yourself? hell yeah go wild. making art for a pet site?? you have to be open to other people having opinions #especially because if you're making the Darigan Aisha or whatever; that's it! that's THE Darigan Aisha!!! #so i think its fair for other artists and users on the site to be able to offer SOME amount of input as to what that should be #like obviously if you go too far with this mindset #nothing gets done and every idea gets vetoed. that sucks too #but imagine if i waltzed in like 'hi guys. what if all future toy neopets were classic wooden nutcrackers' #and then started making nutcracker neopets at an incredible speed #and then got upset that people were like 'wait this doesn't make sense' or 'i don't like this idea'. i don't think that would be fair of me #it shouldn't just be for you and your own desires and ego!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[blinkpen]

i can change my profile description thing back i guess, should i go back to "these are the cliff's notes of pain" or the other one i've been tempted with sometimes, which is... where ok there's a lot of variations to what amounts to a semi-facetious existential comparison to henry darger while ducking certain key attributes/having very stark differences besides, but, i have yet to optimize the best one, and i don't if that's slightly too obscure a cut for people to take as a joke or not,

#sporadic warbling #i have a lot of good ones but i'm not a chronic description changer so it needs to be something i won't go Why Did I Do That within a week #like 'organic nightly broths' or 'D.I.D. THUNDERDOME' or 'profoundly limp pizazz' or 'radially symmetrical wife' #or other such esoteric inside jokes there's a lot deep in my sanctum #'pneumatic potato delivery tubes' was a good one too #i know you miss 'welcome to cyclops hell' i do too but i want febreeze #from software lesbian henry darger with internet access thus avoiding the maximum tragedy of an outsider artist's isolation #with way more going on than anyone ever suspects even to those with whom the passion is shared #....but that is not what i would call a snappy marquee ysee #hello people who read all the tags hiii i'm kind of in the stratosphere atm not bc i'm on anything my brain's just weird #and i ramble like a loon much more than i used to hiii

[heavy-lobster]

Hate it when I see people say shit like "the Violet paradox mons are so stupid and lame, they're all just robots!" like uhmmmmm yea they are and it OWNS ok. blasts you with my beam attack

#the killer robot aesthetic fucks severely and is MUCH scarier #and imo it works a lot better with the plot tbh #iron jugulis and iron thorns are PEAK #iron valiant and iron moth are RAD #iron bundle is SILLAY #iron hands #i ended that tag to early but i forgot what i was going to say there anyways whoopsies #anyways i feel like its fits the unnatural horrors beyond human comprehension vibe a lot better #“theyre all just robots” well all the scarlet exclusives are just dinosaurs. fucker #well guess what my son boy Henry is a robot AND a dinosaur piss your pants about it #the fact that theyre all robots MAKES it scary like. why! how far in the future is this! at what point will every pokemon become a robot! #how terrifying is this future that they had to become robots in order to survive. did they even BECOME anything or #did the people of the future create them to look like present day pokemon that are now extinct. #much more intriguing to me personally than. here is a woolly mammoth. its descendants do not look like this anymore bc idk evolution or wtv #not saying i dont like the ancient pkmn just saying the people who dislike the future ones are WRONG theyre sick as hell ok #anyways more importantly for each version what paradox mon do you think fucked Arven and Mabosstiff up so bad like #ive been thinking about this a LOT #cant be one of the ones you encounter with him present or he probably wouldve brought it up #my bet for Violet is iron valiant since i feel like thats the scariest #i have no thoughts on scarlet but i guess the equivalent #(based on pokedex placement) #would be roaring moon #idk tho i havent thought about it much #either way. fucking terrifying #pokemon spoilers #lobster.txt