#well no duh ditz

[eternalsa2z]

Tech Support

"Hello sir I'm Bill and this is Diana. How can we help you today?"

"Well I just discovered this Reality Warper app on my device and wanted to see if it worked. I figured the Genius Tech Support would know how to handle it."

"No problem mister. Let us take a look." *TYPES INTO DEVICE*

"Hmmm strange. Looks like it's heavily encrypted. All these ones and zeroes flashing over and over..."

"You're right, Billy. Makes my head kinda hurt looking at it..."

10 minutes later

"Uh...Di...I'm totally stumped"

"I know Billi! I'm drawing a total blank!"

"I thought I was smart...but that app is sooooo much comp...compli...uh, difficult to think about"

"C'mon we, like, can't give up! Let's just poke at it some more..."

30 minutes later

"Everything okay back there, geniuses?"

"OMG Didi! I totes forgot there was someone, like, waiting for us!"

"Like, what were we even doing, Bibi?"

"Uhhhhh...taking cute photos? I think?"

"Oh my gawd doll you're such a ditz! Maybe let's go ask that nice man back there. He seems smart"

STRUT MINCE

"Hello Master...like, what were we doing for you?"

"You were assessing my Reality Warper device."

"Duh-vice? Like, the only vice I have is shopping too much" GIGGLE

"That's quite alright. Things seem to be working. You Dummies did a great job."

"Awwww, thanks! Is there, like, anything else we can, like, help you with Master?"

"Why yes. I didn't come all the way down to Dummy Sex Support not to have fun with a couple of bimbos!"

"Yaaaaay! We'd looooove to help address your, like, hardware in your pants"

"Oh fer sure. Dummies like us are built for customer suck-cess!"

#bimboification #m2f transformation #f2f transformation #hypnosis #magical transformation #technology transformation

[foggyparadisecandy]

[CW: Non-con, hypno]

Donna had to giggle thinking about, like, how fun everything was now, since her boyfriend had, like, bought her these new super-duper fun and like totally awesome headphones.

Like she kinda remembered how she used ta be like doing financial news streaming and like was super well-respected and taught people money management stuff ... but like ... her boyfriend had always said it was like soooooooo borrrrrring and totally not sexy AT ALL ... and like now it was like soooooo much more fun to be like just gaming all the time and like looking super sexy and like hot and stuff and like teasing all the boys and girls who like watched her.

And like her boyfriend had totally surprised her with like an opportunity to like meet a few fans tonight and like really show how much she totally appreciated them and everything. hee hee like duh ... totally meaning sex!

Like ... he had sold tix or something and made like a lot of money and stuff like a raffle or something? And like he said he would hold on to the money because like she totally was a ditz these days. Duh.

And like he had totally good money skills and like ummm she totally didn't even know anything about all that totally complicated stuff like money and ummm like ... money stuff.

Things were like soooooooo awesome these days.

#hypnosis #hypnokink #mind control #brainwashing #trancing #hypnotized #safe play #trance #consensual #storytelling #vignette

[snackhobi]

pairing: jimin x reader / word count: 20.9k / genre: street racer au, driftracer!jimin, driftracer!reader, rivals to lovers, smut, some fluff too

summary: You used to think that there was nothing better than the sensation of coming first place. However, your rival- the talented, gorgeous, dangerous Park Jimin- is more than happy to prove you wrong.

warnings: unsafe driving (street races are technically illegal), cursing, sexually explicit content, fingering, slight orgasm delay, oral (m receiving), deepthroating, cum eating, unprotected sex, car sex (duh), creampie, multiple orgasms, dirty talk I think that’s everything

EDIT: part two now available!

--

It’s hot tonight.

Humid, too. Your hair has been pulled into a messy updo and your makeup is fierce, as always, and despite the mugginess in the air, you’re still wearing your usual leather jacket even though you can feel how the inside lining is sticking to your skin. You have appearances to maintain and the pastel pink jacket is part of your signature look, even in the heat of summer.

“Busy tonight,” Taehyung comments idly as he leans against the side of your car, and you hum in response.

“Good turn out.” You slam the bright red hood of your baby shut, finally satisfied. “Get off, please.”

Taehyung pouts as he does what he’s told, and pouts even harder when you end up reclining against the hood of the car, leaning your weight into your palms. Jungkook snickers at him from where he’s squatted to shut the toolbox and you laugh when Taehyung swings a halfhearted kick at the younger boy which is effortlessly parried.

The mountain road in Seongdong-gu is crowded. It’s rammed full of fans, throngs of men and women swarming the start of tonight’s route, mingling with each other and ogling the cars and their racers. Most people give you a wide berth, though; by now they’ve learned to stay away from your Pontiac, even if the flame-bright 2007 Solstice GXP is eye-catching in its rarity. Most racers don’t take kindly to random strangers touching their vehicles anyway. Jungkook and Taehyung are the only people who can touch your Solstice without you ripping them to shreds, your childhood friends working alongside you to make sure the engine is in full working order for the rigorous pacing you’re about to put it through.

Sometimes, though, other racers come over to try and flirt with you, usually people new to Seoul, unfamiliar with the circuit. You’ll giggle and simper under their gazes, acting like the ditz that they think you are, coquettish flirting that they don’t realise is a front. You know that a female drift racer is an oddity, and you are especially so with your American sports car standing out amongst a collection of souped up Nissans and Toyotas— you know they think you’re here for fun. That you’re in over your head.

You always make sure to prove them wrong.

“Heads up,” Jungkook mutters. You glance up to see where he’s looking, the lingering smile of your laughter immediately smoothing out when you spot who it is, face going neutral as you sit up.

Park Jimin looks beautiful tonight. He always does, though; plump lips, soft face, eyes darkened with shimmer, the blond of his styled hair contrasting with the dark roots of his undercut. Arresting and stunning. And, just like you, an oddity on these tracks. He knows how good he looks and leans into that beauty, and you know that the other men on this circuit used to underestimate him because of it, too. Just like they had with you and the overtly feminine colours of your outfits. A masquerade.

“Jimin.” You greet him coolly.

“Y/n,” he responds, as cordial as always. He tilts his head, the chains in his earrings swinging with the motion. “You’re looking well today.” When you don’t respond, he continues: “I came over to wish you good luck for the race.”

“I don’t need luck, but thank you.”

Jimin seems amused, smiling a little at your statement. You keep your eyes locked on his, refusing to let your gaze fall down to his lips. You never let yourself be caught off guard around him. 

You remember when he’d first started here, slipping into the pack of racers without any of them taking notice, a quiet, beautiful man surrounded by larger, louder men, his Skyline GTR just one car amongst many— but from the second you’d laid eyes on him, you’d known he was a force to be reckoned with. You could read it in every line of his stance, the way he moved, and how he had introduced himself to you: politely and civilly. No preening and strutting around, no sly attempts to look down your shirt, no ham-handed attempts at negging you.

Isn’t it sad that the second someone around here treats you like an equal, you have to be on guard?

“Good luck to you,” you say. Jimin laughs outright at this, the implication that you don’t need luck but he does; he seems genuinely amused rather than offended. He’s beautiful when he laughs, eyes squeezing shut into crescents, the apples of his cheeks defined with how his lips curve upwards, and honestly, it’s almost overwhelming— how he instantly turns so boyish, rather than remaining like some sort of distant, ethereal angel of beauty. 

For all that you consider Jimin a threat and your biggest rival— in your opinion your win records are starting to look too even— you don’t actually dislike him. It’s just wariness on your part, tempered with respect, though you have no idea what Jimin really thinks about you.

“Thank you.”

He leaves after giving you one, last lingering look, expression unreadable, returning to his black Nissan and his group that surround it. Jimin says something to Min Yoongi, who smiles so widely that you can see his gums. Taehyung muffles a small sigh of longing.

“The sexual tension between you two couldn’t be more obvious,” Jungkook says. For a second you think he’s talking about Taehyung and Yoongi, even if Yoongi isn’t looking in this direction, but then you realise Jungkook is talking about you. You raise your eyebrows at him.

“Have you forgotten that I’m in a relationship, Kook?”

“You can still have sexual tension with someone.” Jungkook shrugs, unbothered. “If you keep eyefucking each other like that I’m going to have to request that you start wearing protection, otherwise someone’s going to get pregnant.”

“Glasses are just eyeball condoms,” Taehyung says, and then both boys crack up.

“That doesn’t even make sense.” Despite the tone of your voice a smile twists up the corners of your lips. 

The only other driver who comes up to greet you is Hoseok. You genuinely like Hoseok, waving at him when he approaches and tipping your head back in laughter when he jokes with you; you’ve known him for long enough to have learned that he’s not actually sleazy, so when he says something flirtatious you play up to it and bat your eyelashes at him before the two of you end up giggling at each other. When he leaves he winks at you and you blow him a small kiss, which makes him clutch his heart as he staggers back and you laugh again. 

Your smile still lingers after your laughter has faded, and you’re still smiling when you happen to make eye contact with Jimin, who’s looking over at you—the second your eyes lock he’s wrenching his gaze away, and even from this distance you can’t help but notice the hard set to his lips. Strange.

When you finally pull up to the start line, all semblance of laughter and levity has gone from your face. The course tonight isn’t entirely simple— the forested hills in the centre of Seoul are popular for good reason, usually deserted at night, the loops of the mountainous roads letting the racers show off exactly how good they are. The start line is just before a horseshoe curve, an arcing bend that’ll immediately set you at a disadvantage if you fuck up, but you’re not worried. You haven’t driven this particular route in Seongdong-gu in a race, the winding snake of a road falling down the mountainside in front of you, but you’ve driven similar routes plenty of times and all your practices have gone well. You feel confident.

Your baby purrs underneath and around you. The sound of the engine is one that’s as familiar to you as your own breathing, the feeling of the steering wheel under your hands entirely comfortable. You’re aware of every one of her parts, having rebuilt and tweaked her yourself, replacing the drop top, modifying her into the perfect drifting machine, and you’ve grown with her; you don’t like to wax lyrical but this car is an extension of yourself and you know her inside and out. Even if Jungkook and Taehyung are your friends and fellow co-owners of the garage, and help you check her over before each race, you’re the one who built her and maintains her.

Along the line other cars roll into place, flanking you. There’re familiar faces— Jimin and Hoseok, of course, but also Kim Namjoon, as well as the other usual people that Seokjin makes sure to invite to his meets, plus a few newcomers that you don’t recognise. The sound of your engines drown out the noises from the crowd, as loud as they are, milling around and holding their phones up to film the start of the race; the usual busy chaos. A flagger appears, a gorgeous girl in revealing clothes who soaks up the wolf whistles from the crowd as she saunters onto the track. You see how she flicks a wink at Namjoon, who grins back at her with bared teeth as she gets ready to motion with the checkered flag in her hands.

One of your hands tightens on the wheel. The other grips the gearstick, hard. The second the flag drops, you’re leaping forwards from the start line, Pontiac’s engine roaring as she responds eagerly to your commands. You round the first bend with ease, flicking your car into a smooth turn that sends dust flying from your tyres; in your mirrors you catch glimpses of the other drivers doing the same, and even if you weren’t familiar with the newbies and the regulars you’d be able to tell who was who from this one moment. A few struggle to complete the bend— one even goes into a tailspin, though fortunately he just stalls on the road instead of plummeting off it— and you and your competitors leave them in the dust as you approach the next turn.

Namjoon is next to you while Jimin is in front. The glint of your headlights off the sleek black paintwork of your rival's car seems almost like it’s taunting you. You grit your teeth and approach the next turn faster, harder, shaving off precious seconds by arcing your car more tightly after you’ve popped your handbrake, edging ahead of Namjoon and pulling closer to Jimin. You want to win, of course, but more than that, you have to beat him— you need another tally against your name.

The adrenaline is running high in your blood, rushing through your veins, spiking each time you squeal into another curve of road; where Jimin was initially ahead of you, you’re now almost level, approaching the last turn of the track. You suck in a lungful of air and lean your body into the weight of your car, throttling her to get more of an angle in the restricted hairpin turn, familiar and confident enough in your Solstice to know exactly how to steer her so you don’t lose control. 

It’s perfect. Jimin curves out more widely and takes longer to straighten up and by this point you’ve slammed down on the accelerator for the final, straight part of the road; you scream over the finish line first to the roar of the awaiting crowd and the wide grins of your teammates, Jungkook and Taehyung elated at your win.

It doesn’t take long for the other racers to finish after you. Jimin is only a few seconds behind you, an insignificant amount of time in the grand scheme of things, but in this moment, on this track, it means everything— the difference between winning or losing. 

“That was dope!” Jungkook whoops when you swing your door open, and you grin at him. You’re a little shaky as you step out of the car, breathing hard with the adrenaline that’s still in your system, lightheaded. You love this feeling. You love when you’re driving and your entire body is on edge and wound tight— but you love the come down, too, the way you can feel how the adrenaline is still roiling through your veins, dissipating. 

You’re surrounded by the hubbub of the crowd, screaming and yelling at each other and the racers, but they’re still careful to steer clear of the cars. You can feel the heat of your engine through the hood and touch your fingers tenderly to the warm metal; you briefly catch Jimin’s eye as he climbs out of his Skyline but before you can do anything, your crew are grabbing you and you’re inevitably pulled away to collect your prize money and, as Taehyung says, ‘get turnt’. 

(You don’t do this for the prize money, though. You don’t do it for the free booze, the drugs, the sex: none of that interests you. You do it because you love to drive, love the sensation of control as you make your car dance in ways most drivers can’t even dream of— love showing that you’re good enough to win.)

Jimin finds you later, sequestered from the crowd and sitting on the hood of your car. Even though you’d won you hadn’t searched out the limelight and had slipped out after making a cursory appearance. It’s this little ritual the two of you have, searching each other out after your races, a few stolen moments of privacy despite the throngs of fans that fill whatever area that Seokjin has relegated the afterparty to. You see that Jimin notices the still full bottle of soju in your hands. You’re only holding onto it for appearance’s sake, an excuse if someone tries to foist more on you— you don’t drink and drive. 

“Congratulations,” he says. His eye makeup is a little smudged, probably from the humidity, but he looks just as alluring as before, stylish rather than mussed. “You drove beautifully.”

“So did you,” you reply, honest. It had been a close call, but Jimin had drifted as well as always, Skyline gliding as smooth and soft as silk over the rough asphalt of the mountain roads. You might be wary of Park Jimin but you’re always civil with each other and you’re nothing if not honest— he’s incredible at what he does.

“Not beautifully enough.” Jimin smiles wryly, but you know this is directed at himself and not you. You’ve never seen him act bitter after losing, unlike some other racers. Then again, he doesn’t flaunt his wins, either. Which is similar to you, you guess, although you wonder why he races at all. You don’t judge based on appearances or personality— you’re certainly the poster girl for being an unusual candidate for a street racer— but you have to wonder what set Jimin onto this path in the first place. “I’ll have to do better next time.”

“Feel free not to, I’m happy if you want to let me win,” you joke.

“We both know that’s not true.” Jimin’s smile has shifted from wry into something smaller. It feels almost like a secret, and you find your heart stuttering in your chest at the sight of it, this tiny bit of- this tiny bit of openness from him. “You want to race against the best, not someone who’ll just hand you first place.”

You blink with surprise. You can’t help but let this surprise show on your face even if you normally try to control your expressions around Jimin; you never want to show vulnerability to any of your competitors, even the ones who seem like genuinely okay people, like Namjoon or Hoseok. “That’s true,” you say. What’s the point of coming first if it isn’t actually a challenge? That’s what makes wins all the better— knowing that you’ve worked for it, that you’ve worked hard, that you’re racing against the best of the best and still come out on top. There’s a difference between being inexperienced and incompetent. You have no time for the latter.

Jimin is close enough to touch you. You’re acutely aware of the sweat that’s beaded along your hairline, both your forehead and at the back of your neck; you’ve shed your leather jacket to try your best to cool down in the humid night air and the baring of your skin has helped somewhat, shorts and vest revealing swathes of skin that can feel the light touch of the breeze, as heavy with mugginess as it is.

Of course, he doesn’t touch you. Instead he brushes his fingers across the metal of the Solstice’s hood, light enough that his fingers don’t leave a mark. Normally if anyone even approaches her you can feel your hackles rising, the urge to snap at them overwhelming— there’s a reason people usually avoid approaching your car— but for some reason Jimin doesn’t conjure this feeling in you. You let the touch pass without comment and you notice that Jimin’s fingers go still for a moment. He’d been expecting you to tell him to stop.

“She’s beautiful,” he says. He’s still looking at you.

“The love of my life.” You can’t help but smile a little when you say this. You lavish praise onto this car, calling her your love and baby, and she gives back as much as you put in.

“Mm.” Jimin hums lightly and strokes his fingers down the car again, before splaying fingers out, palm pressed flat against the hood; you hear the metal of his rings touch against it. The suspension of your Solstice isn’t exactly the highest in the world and with the curve of the hood this has Jimin leaning against it in a way that seems almost flirtatious, his hip cocked, although his expression doesn’t betray anything. He’s intimidatingly gorgeous. “What made you choose this car?”

You shrug. “Gut feeling,” you say. “Desire. I saw it, I wanted it. I got it. Why did you choose a Skyline?”

“Because they’re good for drifting,” Jimin says, with a small grin. Skylines aren’t an uncommon sight on the circuit and it certainly would have been a lot cheaper to tweak a Nissan than your Pontiac, what with export costs and difficulties getting American car parts over here— but that’s one good thing about owning a garage. Easier access because of your connections. “And because I like them.”

You point at him, other fingers still hooked around the neck of the soju bottle. “See, that’s how you should think,” you say. “It’s what I did. Don’t choose something because it’s the smart choice. Choose it because you like it. If you want something, go for it. You’ll make it work.”

Something flickers across Jimin’s face. He opens his mouth to speak but then your phone goes off; it’s in your back pocket, pressed against the hood of your car, vibrations amplified against the metal. Jungkook’s calling you. No doubt he’s wondering where you’ve gone and if he needs to save you from hordes of fans or something.

You decline the call and shoot him a quick text, wedging the soju bottle between your thighs before you begin to type both hands. You don’t notice how Jimin eyes the motion, how the beads of condensation on the glass are slick against your skin, shining; by the time you glance up, looking through your lashes, Jimin has straightened and taken a step back, no longer touching the Solstice. “Stay out of trouble,” he says. “I’ll see you next time.”

“I’ll be counting the minutes,” you say, but it doesn’t come out as sarcastically as you mean it to. Jimin gives you one last smile, a subtle upturn to his perfect lips, before he turns to go. You find yourself staring at Jimin as he leaves and absently wondering how on earth he fits that spectacular ass into those jeans of his.

--

The next time you race against Jimin you’re kind of a mess.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jungkook asks, hesitantly, as you try to slam the hood of your car shut with less force than necessary; you fumble as you raise it and get it shut on the second try.

“I’m fine.” 

Taehyung and Jungkook exchange a look, but neither of them say anything. They’re clearly concerned about you and your weird behaviour. 

You haven’t told them the reason why you’re like this, not yet. You’d caught your boyfriend in bed with his ex; after their break-up they’d remained friends, and you being an idiot, had allowed it. You’d been unsure at first, but you’d decided to trust him after he'd kept on at you about it, only to discover that not only had he been cheating on you with his ex, he’d been cheating on you the whole time you’d been dating. Months of your time, spat on, wasted. You’re mad at him, at her, at them both, of course— you’d kicked them out of your apartment immediately, literally throwing their things out and slamming the door shut in his face when he’d tried to beg for forgiveness— but since that afternoon you’ve gone weirdly numb alongside the rage, and you go quiet when you’re angry, anyway. 

He’d been so nice on the surface, so kind to you, one of your few partners who’d been okay with the street racing and hadn’t tried to fight you on it, even if he’d never actually come to watch or actively encouraged you— but now that you think about it this is probably because it would have given him time to go fuck his sidepiece, which is what’s kind of messing you up the most. You feel stupid, too. Taehyung and Jungkook had always been wary of him, not liking his attitude and being mad that he hadn’t supported your interests. Boy, had they been proven right. Why hadn’t you listened to them?

(Why had you trusted him?)

You’re holding onto a spanner but fumble and drop it onto your foot. You’re wearing boots today so it’s not like it hurts, but the surprise of it brings you back into the moment, angry at your own clumsiness. Jungkook and Taehyung have retreated to the other side of the car; you haven’t told them about the cause of your mood yet and so they’re understandably perplexed at it. But you feel embarrassed and ashamed even if you logically know that it’s not your fault that you’d been cheated on and your oldest friends would never judge you— once this feeling passes, you’ll tell them. You know they’ll come up with some convoluted revenge plan, one that you’ll be totally on board with— but right now? Right now, you’re going to channel everything into this race. 

You’ve just finished flicking the clasps of your toolbox shut and straightened up when you notice that Min Yoongi has apparently walked over and is now talking to Taehyung, who looks faint, while Jungkook looks on with unbridled glee. You feel entertained at their expressions despite the tumult of feelings inside you, but then—

“Everything in working order?”

Of course, if Yoongi is here, Jimin would be, too. He looks so good it kind of hurts. His blonde hair has been pushed out of his face today, swooping away from his forehead, and rather than dangling chains he has simple hoops in his ears; it seems like he’s wearing contacts as well, light hazel eyes piercing as he watches you. (You miss the usual warmth of his dark brown eyes.)

“Pretty much,” you say. Jimin seems surprised at your lacklustre response but you can’t summon the energy needed to be your usual self, none of your subtle biting humour shining through tonight. You see how his brow twitches as he frowns a little; if you weren’t incorrect you’d say he seems— seems worried, almost? 

“That’s good.” He seems unsure about what to say, which is a first for him, and pauses before he speaks again, asking something he never has before. “Are you alright?”

You huff a laugh through your nose. “No, I’m half left,” you say, but then you give him a polite smile. “I’m okay. Do I not seem okay? Are you worried that I’ll pull out before the race starts? Don’t worry, I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction.”

It’s weird. Jimin is clearly unsatisfied with your response, but not because it could be considered kind of rude— although it definitely could— but because you’re deflecting, and he’s concerned about you.

Concerned about you? Huh. What an odd realisation.

“I know you wouldn’t pull out of a race,” Jimin says. His eyebrows have both risen a little, face somewhat dubious, but when he says this you know he means it. “I’ll see you on the track.”

When he goes, Yoongi does too, though not before smirking at Taehyung in a way that should probably be illegal— judging from the expression on Taehyung’s face he’s ascended to nirvana and Jungkook muffles a laugh into his palm as you wander over.

“Min Yoongi gave me his number.” Taehyung sounds faint. “Someone pinch me, I’m dreaming.”

Jungkook socks him in the shoulder and Taehyung yelps.

“He said pinch, not punch, Kook,” you say, but Jungkook looks unrepentant until Taehyung punches him back, and then he just looks hurt (emotionally and physically). Neither of you buy it. “I’m happy for you, Tae.”

“You should plan your wedding for October. I bet Yoongi loves Halloween and you’d look great in autumnal colours,” Jungkook says. Taehyung sighs dreamily.

They’re both so caught up in this development in Taehyung’s long term crush that it allows you to let the smile drop off your face, and for a second your exhaustion and hurt shines through before you school your expression. You can’t let anyone on the track witness you being weak— you’ve had to claw your way up in their estimations and you’re not going to let one shitty guy fuck up your performance and take away all that work from you.

A few cars away, unnoticed, Yoongi watches as Jimin watches you in turn, then claps him on the shoulder. “You’re not being especially subtle, kid.”

“I— subtle about what, hyung?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “That girl is a competitor, not your friend. Why are you worrying about her?”

Jimin pauses before a slow frown starts to grow on his face, organising his thoughts. “I don’t want to race against someone when they’re not giving me their best,” he says. “Where’s the challenge in that?”

Yoongi looks skeptical but decides not to comment and so Jimin is free to glance back at you.

You look fine now. Maybe a little more stern faced than usual, though it can be hard to read your expressions sometimes; Jimin has watched you enough to become infinitely familiar with the line of your lips and the steel in your eyes, the determination written into you, even if most people seem to be unable to see past the makeup and clothes you put on, a way to lull them into underestimating you. 

Most people are so quick to jump to conclusions based on appearance. You must have been the only one who hadn’t done that to him, shaking his hand firmly and carefully when he’d first rolled onto the circuit— he could see how your eyes had darted over him, reading him, taking him in, immediately cautious. You’d seen past the front he’d put on.

You’re endlessly fascinating. Whip smart and talented without being narcissistic, but also without any false humility. You know you’re good. And you know how to play the game, too, coy and flirtatious with the men who underestimate you before blasting past them on the track. Before Jisoo had quit and moved back to Gunpo, you’d been friendly with her, a measured rapport that you no longer have now that you’re the only female racer in the Seoul circuit, and it must be exhausting to consistently be discredited just because you’re a woman— but you never seem ruffled by it.

So what’s happened to you tonight?

He keeps his eyes on you when you pull up to the line. Today you’re in Incheon and your route is to the airport and back again. The start is on the top level of a car park and you’re behind Jimin at the starting line; he keeps his eyes on you in his rearview mirror and notices the hardness of your face, none of the usual anticipation and excitement that colours your features before a race has begun. He can’t help but wonder.

Then the flagger walks onto the track, and Jimin focuses on them, on the swoop of the flag, before the race begins.

--

You come fifth.

All things told, fifth place isn’t bad, especially considering who you were racing tonight; there are a lot of really talented drifters in Incheon who are a lot more familiar with its roads than you are, driving the airport route regularly and drifting in the deserted airport car parks, leaving evidence of their visits with black tyre marks in ringed circles in the parking lots.

So it’s no surprise that an Incheon native had come first (Choi Minho clearly knows what he’s doing). Jimin had come second. You’d just beaten out Namjoon, who’d shaken your hand afterwards and congratulated you on the last turn before the finish line, the way you’d ridden his drag to get the momentum needed to sling yourself forwards and beat him. It had been a good manoeuvre, sure, but you’re still disappointed in yourself.

It’s not the fact that you hadn’t won that’s bothering you. It’s the fact you’d driven terribly, even if someone watching from the outside wouldn’t have been able to tell. For all that you’d been planning to channel your turbulent emotions into drifting, your handling had been off and your reactions had been stunted and so your driving had suffered. Your Solstice had given you as good a performance as always, but it wasn’t the car, it was you. 

You feel like shit.

You leave the afterparty sooner than usual and rather than just escaping somewhere, you leave altogether; it’s hard to be subtle with the loud exhaust of your Pontiac but you manage it somehow, the crowds of fans and drivers too caught up in their own revelries to notice you slipping away. You pull up into the dark of a deserted car park. The only light is from street lamps on the ridge behind you and the moon in the clear sky above and you’re surrounded by nothing but the silence of abandoned vehicles. You let your head tip forward until you’re resting your forehead against the grip of your steering wheel, warm from where you’ve been holding it.

You lift your head to roll your windows down to try and get some cooler night air in, and so you hear the sound of another car pulling into the lot— you know the spread of those headlights, the rumble of that exhaust. Jimin pulls up next to you, coming to a sharp stop before he cuts his engine and the lights die. He climbs out of his car with his usual grace, though when he rounds the hood of your Pontiac to approach the driver’s side he seems to be moving faster than normal.

“Y/n.” He sounds oddly serious, almost accusatory. “What was that?”

“What?”

He’s staring at you through your open window, his face austere; there’s a loose lock of his hair hanging across his forehead, now, falling away from how it had been pushed out of his face. He looks a little dishevelled, but artfully so, and you can’t help but envy his ability to look fashionably beautiful at all times, even when he’s frowning at you. “Tonight. Your driving was off. What happened?” 

Oh. You look away from him, staring back out of the front windscreen, unable to keep staring into his eyes. You feel weirdly ashamed, like you’ve disappointed him. Normally you couldn’t give two shits about what other racers think of you, but Jimin— Jimin is different. Jimin is the one person you measure yourself against, the one person who you feel personally challenged by, as distinctive and unusual as you both seem on the circuit, standing out in your own idiosyncratic ways, and he’s struck right into the heart of things: your driving was shoddy and he knows it.

“I—” Your mouth opens, and then shuts again. Oh, God. You’ve been holding it together, but as you sit there with Jimin still watching you, something inside you starts to fray and unravel, the tightness of your control slipping away from you. “My boyfriend was cheating on me,” you confess, and then you splay a hand across your face. You hide your face from him and so you don’t see how Jimin stiffens, eyes widening when he notices that you’ve started to cry; you’re not sobbing or making any noise, but there’s a glint of wetness on your cheeks, tears silently rolling down your face. “I only found out today and I can’t stop thinking about it and it fucked up my driving. I should have done better.”

You don’t know why you’re telling him this. Every part of your reputation is built up around not letting your competitors see any weakness in you, and here you are, spilling a private facet of your life to your personal rival and crying in front of him. You can’t look him in the eye. You don’t want to see the judgement on his face, the way you must be falling in his estimations: the way he must be realising that you’re just some weak little girl who isn’t even good enough to keep a relationship going. No doubt any second he’s about to laugh at you, or scoff derisively, or tell you to stop being so dramatic and to stop snivelling like some sort of child, and you’ll be left trying to pick up the pieces of your shattered reputation from the dark grey tarmac.

“Hey.”

Jimin’s voice is soft. When you don’t respond you feel the lightest touch of his fingers against the back of your hand, still pressed against your face; you sniff and pull the hand away, hesitantly turning your head to look at Jimin, afraid of what you’re going to see, even after hearing the tone of his voice.

But there’s no judgement on his face. No derision. He’s crouched down by the side of your Pontiac so your faces are level— his earlier frown has disappeared completely and all you can see is compassion. He doesn’t look like he pities you and instead he looks warm and empathetic. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. He clearly, genuinely means it. “It must really hurt.”

You laugh wetly. “It’s so stupid.” There are tears still dribbling down your cheeks, though they’ve started to slow. “The more I think about it, the more I realise I didn’t even really like him that much? I just… I don’t know,” you sigh. “It does hurt. When you trust someone and they break that trust. Of course I immediately dumped him and I’ll never take him back, but… I still can’t believe he did that to me. With his ex? I should have seen it coming. I feel so stupid.”

Jimin stays quiet as you sniff again. You feel gross and messy, your face swollen from tears, and your makeup must be running, too. You must look terrible right now. And yet Jimin continues to look at you with that gentle understanding, like he doesn’t care about how you’ve just let slip this raw part of yourself. 

You wonder if he’s going to say the usual set phrases— that you deserve better (you do), that your ex was probably a dick anyway (he was), all of that— but he doesn’t. He doesn’t cheapen your pain with any normal idioms. Instead, he slowly reaches forward, giving you plenty of time to stop him or pull away, but you don’t. You let him take the edge of his sleeve and lightly dab at your cheeks, unheeding of how your tears darken the fabric of his expensive looking bomber jacket; the fabric isn’t exactly soft, but his touch is. You don’t know why you let him touch you, yet you don’t regret it, not with how kind he’s being to you right now. You let your traitorous body lean into his touch and he doesn’t react, but you’re not sure if that’s because he chooses not to or if he doesn’t notice.

When Jimin pulls back he keeps his fingers hooked on your door, on the lip where the window has retracted into, and his face is closer now. What little light is reaching the two of you seems to have gathered on him, like the moon can’t help but shine on the man— the silver light mellows him, softening the edges of his beauty, and he doesn’t look like your indomitable rival. He just looks like a person, a boy, surprisingly soft and cute, eyes warm.

(He looks like a friend.)

“There’s nothing stupid about trusting someone that you’re in a relationship with,” Jimin says. “Relationships should be built on trust, and you weren’t stupid for investing yourself in that. What he did wasn’t a reflection on you, and it’s his burden to bear. Please don’t feel stupid.” He’s looking at you so sincerely and the thing inside you that had frayed and unraveled turns to liquid at the sight, trickling through your chest like a refreshing rush of water. 

“Okay.” Your voice is a murmur. “I mean, I do feel stupid right now, but I know you’re right.” It’s one thing to know an emotional truth, but it’s another to hear it said out loud by another person— and it’s nice to know that someone you’re not even that close to supports you. It’s why, in a way, it’s almost easier to believe Jimin; he has no reason to be nice to you. And yet here he is.

“Good.” Jimin is equally as quiet as you, but he sounds pleased, and you can’t help but smile at him.

“I’ll be fine by the next race,” you say. Even as you say that, you know it’s true— your sudden outburst of tears has already started to dry up, and for all that you still feel the pain inside you, you feel… better. Admitting this to Jimin has been weirdly soothing, even if you should probably be worried about how this is going to come back and bite you on the ass. For all that you’ve just been speaking about how someone had broken your trust, you find yourself trusting Jimin, trusting that he’s not going to use this moment of weakness against you later.

You already trust him more than you’d trusted your ex— but you’re not sure if that says something about Jimin or if that says something about you. 

“Don’t worry,” Jimin says. “We won’t count this race.”

You let slip a surprised cough of laughter. Even though you’d been crying less than five minutes ago you find that a smile begins to split your face and your spirits quietly lift when Jimin smiles back at you. You can’t help but notice that one of his front teeth is a little bit crooked, and you’re just— just captivated by it. You've never been this close to Jimin before, or let your eyes run across his face the way they are right now; it seems like there's still more to learn about his features, as familiar with them as you thought you were. 

“How gracious. That means I’m still ahead of you.” Your smile has grown smaller but no less happy, and you hope that Jimin knows that. Judging from the look on his face you’d say that he does. He’s always polite, but he’s never been this overtly, directly kind before, but you’ve also never allowed him the opportunity, the two of you keeping each other at a respectful arm’s length. You can’t help but feel grateful. “Jimin… thank you.”

He gives you a little shake of the head. “I’m sorry you’ve been hurt like this,” he says. “Thank you for telling me.”

“You’re cheaper than therapy,” you reply, grinning at him while pressing your tongue against your teeth and touching it to your lower lip, a little cheeky; he seems surprised at the fact you’re talking to him like this when you’re normally more distant and deliver your lines without the weight of your laughter behind it, especially off the back of just crying. You’ve never seen Jimin caught off guard, even if he seems to gather himself up almost immediately.

“Maybe I should charge you, then,” he says with a smile, and you huff out a breath of laughter.

“That’s just greedy.” You lean back in the seat of your car, hair pressing against the headrest, and look at yourself in your rearview mirror. You don’t look anywhere as bad as you’d thought but you still wince a little. “Oh, wow. I should go home and wash off this mascara before someone sees me and mistakes me for a panda.”

“You make a very cute panda,” Jimin says. You scoff.

“Don’t try and lull me into a false sense of security so I go easy on you the next time we have a race. Just because I spilled a secret to you doesn’t mean that I like you.” You point at him, but the words come out softer than you mean them to and Jimin clearly doesn’t take them to heart.

“Of course not.”

The two of you drive back to Seoul together. When you get to longer, empty stretches of road you throttle your cars and weave around each other; your windows are still down and Jimin’s put his down too, heedless of how the wind is making a mess of his hair. At one point the two of you hit a turn and when you drift around it you let out a loud whoop of joy, chasing away your earlier sadness in the face of this euphoria. 

When you race you don’t let yourself go like this but there’s something to be said about letting yourself shout out loud as you drop into a corkscrew of a turn, riding it out with a screech from your tires, drifting and slamming down on the accelerator because you can. Jimin is grinning and though it’s hard to hear over the roar of your exhausts, he’s laughing; it’s nice to see that he's enjoying himself, too. Normally on the track he's single-minded and only focused on the win, not giving himself over to theatrics, but this, this lets you know that Jimin genuinely loves to drift, and something in you is glad.

You slide into another turn, popping your handbrake and letting the car swing around, and Jimin moves in tandem with you— when you race you’ll try to throw your opponents off, force risky moves so they’re forced off balance, but right now you’re not competing with each other and so you match each other’s motions. Smoke goes flying from your tyres, kicking back dust and burnt rubber, and you ride the spike of adrenaline in your blood with wide eyes and bared teeth. The adrenaline rises in your veins, and the unhappiness dims, and you join in with Jimin’s laughter when you hit another straight stretch of road. You leave your sadness behind in Incheon as you rush forwards and back to Seoul, Jimin matching your pace and coasting alongside you, and it feels weirdly peaceful. Weirdly right.

Once you reach the city and have to part, you pull up at a deserted intersection, adjacent to each other. Jimin’s hair has been entirely pulled out of its earlier style and he looks so much younger like this, blond locks falling over his forehead, dishevelled— you find that you really, really like it. He catches you looking and parts his lips, flicking out his tongue on one side of his mouth, similar to your earlier motion but a lot more shameless. You know the fact that you’re startled is obvious on your face but you’ve never seen him like this before, provocative and wild and free.

“How dare you,” you say mildly, and he throws his head back when he laughs.

--

“Okay, seriously,” Jungkook says. “What is going on between you and Jimin?”

You glance away from the aforementioned man who you’ve been watching as he’s been bent over the hood of his car, fiddling with something in the engine; it’s hard not to look, eyes glued to the motion of his hips and how he fills out his black jeans so perfectly. “Hm? What?”

“Kookie’s right, you’ve kind of been… uh… weird, recently.” Taehyung sounds hesitant.

“Weird? Tae, she goes up to Jimin to talk to him before races. She never does that with other people, let alone Park Jimin.”

“She does sometimes. She likes Hoseok.”

“Guys, I’m still here,” you say, lifting a hand. Both men shut up. “What’s weird about it?”

“Uh, everything?” Jungkook looks baffled. “Since when are you and Park Jimin bosom buddies? I thought you hated him.”

“I never said that,” you protest, which is true. “I just said he’s my biggest rival on the circuit. Doesn’t mean that I hate him.”

“Clearly not,” Jungkook says. “I was joking about the sexual tension before, but nowadays the two of you look like you’re constantly two seconds away from just eating each other. When did that happen?”

“You’re talking about cannibalism, Kook,” Taehyung says, and Jungkook flaps his hand at the other boy while saying you know what I mean.

Okay, admittedly, your friends both have a point. After you’d confessed your break-up to Jimin, even though you instinctively trust him (for some reason), there’d been the lingering concern that he was going to see this chink in your armour and exploit that weakness— but he hasn’t. He hasn’t even referred to it again, not explicitly; the next time you’d seen each other he’d just softly asked if you were okay, and when you’d said yes, that had been that. But as time has gone on you find that when you and Jimin talk, it’s not just the cursory exchanges you used to have. He lingers longer when he speaks to you before races and you open up conversation more when you find each other alone during the afterparties and it’s… it’s strangely easy to open up to Jimin.

So, yeah, you’ve been walking over to talk to him, too. He’d always been the one to search you out first, and you don’t want him to think that your friendship is one-sided, so you’ve been doing the same for him. Friendship. You’re friends with Park Jimin. Who would have thought you’d live to see the day?

“He’s looking over here,” Jungkook says, and you glance in Jimin’s direction. He always looks great but tonight he’s fucking devastating, hair in stylish waves and eyes smoky, the neckline of his shirt almost scandalously low, revealing his collarbones. When you make eye contact, rather than looking away he just stares back at you, before letting his lips curl up in what could be considered a flirtatious smirk— even from this far you can see the glisten of his lips, the dark pink of his pout.

That’s something that’s new, too. As you’ve both been getting to know each other more you’ve been letting down your defences, and one thing that’s apparently developed is this sort of give and take of coy banter, teasing flirtation that just slips out. Sure, you flirt jokingly with Hoseok too, but with Jimin it’s… it’s a bit heavier than that, a little more direct. But feels so natural that you don’t second guess it and you’re not about to stop someone as fucking hot as Park Jimin acting like he wants you, so.

You mirror a similar expression back, pouting your lips at him, and Jimin’s eyes look like they darken in response. Taehyung makes a little noise of distress. “Oh, my God, Kookie, I take it back, you’re right,” he says. “They do want to eat each other.”

“Shut up,” you say, finally tearing your eyes away from Jimin. “Don’t act like you don’t want Yoongi to eat your ass out on a car.”

“I do not!” Taehyung squeaks in a way that says he kind of absolutely does, but he’s embarrassed about it. “Shut up!”

“We’re just friends,” you say, before picking up your toolbox and shoving it into Jungkook’s arms. He makes a little oof sound as the weight of it hits his chest. “Don’t be jealous, you know I’m ride or die for the two of you.”

“You don’t try to eyefuck us like you do with Jimin,” Jungkook says.

“Do you want me to?” You raise your eyebrows at him. Taehyung looks horrified and Jungkooks makes a noise of disgust.

“You’re like our sister! That’s heinous,” he says. “I’m going to get rid of the toolbox and we’re never going to speak of this conversation again.”

“Please, let’s do that,” Taehyung begs. You laugh and roll your eyes but agree, glad that they’ve both dropped the Jimin thing.

You’re not blind. You’ve always known Jimin is drop-dead gorgeous, and it’s also hard not to admire someone when they’re as talented as he is— working hard to grow a skill is something you’ve always found attractive and Jimin drives his Skyline like it’s effortless, wheels spinning and car gliding into each bend as easy as breathing. Jungkook wasn’t necessarily wrong when he said you look like you want to eat him, but as close as Jimin and you are apparently getting, you have no plans to try and fuck your rival any time soon. He’s a friend now, yes, but you’re both competitors, too.

Taehyung catches sight of Yoongi nearby and brightens before wandering off, and Jungkook’s still absent— presumably putting the toolbox away— so you’re left alone by your Pontiac. You run a hand up the back of your neck and just under your updo, feeling your hair under your fingers, an instinctive habit that you don’t think about, but then someone behind you lets out a low whistle.

“Wow.”

You turn away from your car to see who it is. It’s a newcomer to the circuit, someone you haven’t spoken to so far, even if you’ve seen him around. He’s handsome, his hair a red that's darker than the eye-catching brightness of your car and he has a piercing in one of his undyed brows. You’ve only raced against him once— all things told he’s pretty good, even if he hadn’t made it to the top three (you’d beaten Jimin that time, too). 

“And you are?” You decide to play ignorant. The man grins at you, amused.

“I’m Changkyun,” he says. “And I know who you are, Y/n.”

“Oh?” You tilt your head at him. “How do you know that, exactly?”

“It’s hard to ignore a queen when she’s carving up the track.” His eyes slide away from you to your Pontiac, the way the light is glinting off her smooth curves and clean lines. “And when her car is almost as gorgeous as she is.”

You have to admit, as much as Changkyun is shamelessly flirting right now, he’s a lot more nuanced than the usual guys that come over to try it on with you. He clearly knows how good you are and this isn’t the first time you’ve seen him around the circuit so he’s probably aware of your reputation— but he’s still decided to bite the bullet and speak to you anyway. You have to give him props for that.

“A queen, huh?” His eyes flick back up to your face when you say this. “Is that what people say about me?”

“I don’t need someone to tell me that you deserve to be treated like royalty,” he says. “I knew that from the second I laid eyes on you.”

His voice is pitched low and there’s a smile playing at the edge of his lips. You raise your eyebrows and let your mouth purse a little, touching a finger to your bottom lip as if in thought; Changkyun’s dark eyes trace every motion, shameless.

“What does being treated like royalty mean, exactly?” You tap your lip, letting your nail press into the swell of flesh. “Being nice to me?”

“A hands on demonstration would be the best way to show you.” Changkyun has stepped closer to you, leaning in, although you notice he’s still giving you space— he really is a lot more nuanced than you’re used to. You’re begrudgingly impressed, even if you don’t show it. “If you’d like.”

“If I’m a queen, I don’t think I should let some regular commoner just touch me,” you say, a little haughty, and Changkyun laughs.

“That’s true,” he says, grinning at you with a mouthful of teeth, a wolf. “Winners are kings, right? How about if I beat you in the race today, you’ll think about it?”

You let out a little giggle, making it obvious that you don’t feel threatened. He really has endless confidence, especially considering how you’d outpaced him easily in the one race you’ve had together; he’s definitely capable of winning in his Silvia but it doesn’t matter how well he’s tweaked the S15 if he’s not able to drive it as well as he needs to. 

“Oh, I’ll definitely think about it,” you say. “I guess I should wish you good luck then, hm?”

He’s not offended by your laughter and instead it just seems like he wants to rise to the bait. “You’re too kind,” he says. “Would it be too much to ask for a good luck kiss?”

“It would.” You toss your head and he laughs again, quiet and low.

“Alright,” he says, that ever present grin still on his lips. “I’ll see you at the starting line, queen.”

When you climb into your car you know he’ll be watching you. You’re wearing a skirt today and the fabric hitches up when you lower yourself into your seat, revealing the skin of your thigh; you pay no attention to whoever’s looking. You don't have to. You know you look good.

You’ve driven this route in Namsan enough times that you could map out its topography in your sleep, its looping curves lending itself to being one of the most fun roads you get to drift on. Jimin rolls into a smooth stop next to you, Skyline easing into place, and you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. When you take in the expression on his face you almost do a double take.

He looks hungry. There’s no other way to describe it, really. You’re used to seeing resolve on his face, of course, his determination to win— but tonight he looks almost on edge, eyes hard as he stares out at the road and fingers wrapped tight around his steering wheel, like he’s going to throw his car forwards so he can win, starving for it.

When the flag drops Jimin’s Skyline jumps forward like a bullet from a gun. You try to match his pace but he throws you off when he slings himself out of a turn and slides into a choku-dori, the zig-zagging motion of his car catching you off guard and forcing you to drift longer after the turn, your foot tight on the clutch as the back of your Solstice swings around in a wider arc to avoid him. Jimin drives more recklessly tonight than you’re used to, drifting around each bend faster than you would dare: it’s exhilarating to watch even if he’s absolutely destroying you— he blasts over the finish line first to the roar of the crowd, the sound of his screaming throttle dying down as he pulls to a screeching stop, triumphant.

You and Hoseok come joint second, exactly the same time on the clock. You’re panting as you step out of your car, hands shaking with adrenaline, staring in Jimin’s direction with incredulity. Jungkook and Taehyung are waiting for you but when you ask for water they both rush off, saying they can cover more ground with the two of them (whatever that means). Hoseok distracts you when he comes over and high-fives you over your combined second place, indifferent to his loss.

“Jimin was driving like a beast today,” he comments as he glances over at the man. “I wonder what got into him?”

“I have no clue,” you say. Jimin isn’t looking over at you, distracted by groups of fans who have surrounded him before he disappears to collect his prize money, and you wonder what’s going through his head. “Did you see how he approached that second turn?”

“Yeah, I did.” Hoseok nods. “It was way more aggressive than usual, wasn’t it? Oh, I think someone wants to talk to you,” he says as he spots someone over your shoulder, taking a step back and wiggling his fingers at you in a goodbye wave. “I’ll catch you at the afterparty, cutie.”

‘Someone’ turns out to be Changkyun, of course. He’d come fourth. The final hairpin turn seems like it had thrown him off, though he’d recovered well from it if he’d only been beaten out by Namjoon. “Guess someone else has the title of king, tonight,” Changkyun says, and though he sounds disappointed, he sounds less bothered than you would have expected.

“So it seems.” You straighten as Jungkook approaches with a water bottle, already uncapped for you, and you accept it from him gratefully before taking in a sip. He gives Changkyun a long look but doesn’t say anything, though Changkyun seems uncowed. “You drove well, though.”

“That’s high praise, coming from you.” Changkyun seems pleased at your compliment. “Maybe I’ll beat you next time, huh?”

“I’ll try not to hold my breath,” you say drily, no longer in the mood to play along with him. You’re not trying to be cocky but the truth is that you’d never been worried about him beating you— and even if he had, you don’t fuck around with other drivers, or fans, as desperate as they might be. The underground racing scene is rife with this sort of stuff but you still have no interest in it and for all that Changkyun is undeniably attractive and admittedly intriguing, it’s nowhere near enough to genuinely catch your attention.

(There's only one driver on the circuit who has your attention the way Changkyun wants it, but no one needs to know that.)

Changkyun just laughs. He doesn’t seem surprised or offended at all. “Whatever makes you happy. Maybe I’ll see you at the afterparty.”

As he walks away, Jungkook clicks his tongue, unimpressed, while you gulp down another mouthful of water and try to still your adrenaline-shaking fingers.

The crowd at Namsan is pretty big tonight, the openness of the mountain roads allowing more people to get out here and park up to watch, but on the same token of being on a mountain it doesn’t exactly lend itself to being the sort of place that’s good to stand around and drink. There are some warehouses nearby that are empty overnight and it’s only a short drive there, people migrating after the race has finished; you’ll get other drivers who are too afraid to race coming to show off their cars, revving their engines and doing doughnuts in the deserted warehouse car parks. You park your Solstice away from this revelry, not wanting to be asked to join in— you’ve already had your adrenaline high of the night, and besides, everyone knows how good you are without you having to prove it by doing figure 8s in an old parking lot or burning out your tyres.

At one point you see Changkyun again but when he looks like he’s about to approach you, you just raise your eyebrows at him. He lifts his hands in a deferential act of surrender and leaves you alone which shows a surprising amount of self-awareness on his part.

You know Taehyung has wandered off with Yoongi, but you wonder where Jungkook is and turn away from where Changkyun is retreating to see if you can find him. Instead you see Jimin for the first time since the race, making eye contact— he must have been watching you, already looking in your direction when you spot him.

The second you see him, your lips unwittingly lift into a smile. It’s not even conscious on your part, your genuine happiness at seeing him shining through on your face. Jimin pauses but then a girl appears out of the crowd nearby and latches onto his arm, batting her eyelashes at the winner of the night; he’s startled by her appearance and looks away from you before he can smile back.

Normally you’d find it funny, that brief moment of bewilderment on Jimin’s face as he’s being accosted by someone, but for some reason today you don’t feel amused— the smile hardens on your face and jealousy licks at your insides before your eyes widen in surprise. You have no right or reason to feel like this. Jimin is free to do what he likes, of course, and the girl is gorgeous— why shouldn’t he just do what every other driver does and take what he wants?

You think you’re done socialising for the night. You’ll catch up with Taehyung and Jungkook later.

For once you’ve managed to get your hands on a non-alcoholic drink. You crack open the can of peach water and lean against your car as you sip it, feeling refreshed even if the liquid is tepid at best. You’re idly reading the ingredients list and raising your eyebrows at the sugar content when you hear the sound of footsteps approaching you; you glance up, wondering who’s come this far away from the party to your concealed parking spot.

“Jimin?” The surprise is obvious in your voice. Even though you still meet each other alone during each afterparty you’d never expected to see him so soon, especially considering the groupies who’d been gathering around him after he’d come first. The stunning girl who’d been clinging onto his arm is nowhere in sight. “Hi.”

“Hi.” There’s something in his expression that you can’t read. Despite his win, he still has that look of hunger on his face, although it seems more muted than it had earlier. Speaking of his win—

“Congrats on coming first,” you say, raising your can at him in a cheers motion. “That was some incredible driving. You deserve that win.” And everything else that comes with it, you think to yourself, the voice in your head shockingly bitter. You need to calm down.

Jimin is standing a lot closer than he normally does. It’s kind of hard to keep your eyes off the line of his neck and his collarbones; the vee of his shirt has dipped even lower, showing off even more of his skin. “It was close.”

You can’t help but laugh. “No, it wasn’t, and you know it. There’s no need to be humble. But really, your driving was unparalleled tonight. What was up with that? You’re not normally that much of a daredevil.”

Jimin pauses. “You want to know?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know, Jimin.” You’re being more standoffish now than you have been recently, but you can’t help it, even if you sort of feel like a petulant child. You’re still holding onto your can of peach water, arms loosely crossed in a way that allows you to keep lifting it to your mouth, and you raise one of your eyebrows at him as you take a drink from it; you almost choke on that sip of water when Jimin gets closer, crowding you against the car. His arms come to either side of you and he cages you in, trapping you. He leans forwards and your eyes go wide.

“You really want to know?” When he speaks his face is so close to yours that you can feel the heat of his breath curling out of his mouth; your eyes betray you and flit down to his lips, watching the way they curve themselves around the words. Even though you wrench them back up immediately you know Jimin would have seen you look, and there’s a quiet, pleased upturn to his lips now, though the intensity in his eyes hasn’t dimmed at all. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You might be at Jimin’s mercy right now, but you’re not about to let him know that— even if it’s patently obvious. You’ve pulled your arms closer to your chest, trying to crowd as far back against your car as you can, but Jimin is still so close. “Yeah. I do.”

“To prove that I’m better than him,” he says. “To put him in his place.”

Even though you probably shouldn’t laugh directly in Jimin’s face when he looks as intense as he does, you can’t help it. “What, Changkyun? Of course you’re better than him. Why would you feel the need to prove it?”

Jimin seems pleased by your praise, preening a little, but his eyes are still hooded as he looks at you. “So he knows that he’s never going to be good enough.”

His gaze is still heavy, eyes piercing. This entire situation is already spiralling out of your grasp, but even though your heart is pounding, you find that you don’t mind it at all. You'd told Jungkook earlier that you and Jimin are just friends, and you hadn't been lying, but right now it's getting hard to hold onto that fact— the warmth of Jimin's body so close to yours, his face so near to your own, the two of you almost flush.

“Good enough for what, Jimin?”

“Good enough to be the challenge that you want,” he answers. His voice is quiet but you still hear him perfectly. “The challenge that you need.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Oh. “I don’t have to look for that.” Your voice is a whisper, almost trembling as you admit this. As you lay yourself bare in front of Jimin. “You know that I’ve already found it.”

And Jimin— Jimin smiles. He takes a hand off the Pontiac and runs the pad of his thumb down your jawline before resting it just under the swell of your bottom lip. His touch is slow and languid, giving you time to pull away if you want to: but you don't want to. You tilt your head forward into his touch, tipping your head down so that his thumb rests on the seam of your lips instead, but then he takes the hand away. Before you can do or say anything, he sets it on your outer thigh, just below the hem of your skirt, and waits. There's a question in his eyes, a little lift of his eyebrows, still giving you a chance to push him away— but you don't, so he drags his hand upwards and begins to hitch up the material.

You set your can of unfinished peach water aside, metal clinking against the roof of your car. Now that your hands are free you wind them behind Jimin’s neck and tug him closer. Your noses brush as his hand changes direction, drawing his small, delicate fingers over the lace trim of your panties; your mouth opens and you tilt your head forwards, your lips almost touching, but not quite. Jimin doesn’t bridge that gap and seems content to let you get wound up, the way your hips twitch each time it seems like he’s going to dip between your legs but doesn’t.

“Stop teasing me.” Your voice comes out weak and breathy.

“Stop teasing you?” Jimin raises his eyebrows like he’s affronted, even as you part your legs further and he runs his fingers up the seam of your inner thigh, rather than where you really want him to touch. “I’m just returning the favour.”

It’s a little hard to focus on what he’s saying, your focus on the sensation of his fingertips on your skin, but you frown in confusion. “Returning the favour?”

“I’m showing you what you can have, but not giving it to you,” he says. “Changkyun almost thought he could have you. You’re always so coy with Hoseok, too. But you think I haven’t noticed how you’re different with me? You actually want me. But you just tease and flirt and then leave me wanting more.”

“Jimin.” You suck in a breath as you feel a fleeting touch of his fingers where you’ve been wanting them, the lightest run of his fingers over your slit, though you barely feel it through the fabric of your underwear. He must be able to feel the wetness of you through it. He’s barely touched you and you already feel like a wreck. “Kiss me.”

For a long second you think that he won’t acquiesce, but then his lips are against yours and you sigh against his mouth. You’ve always thought that his lips were sinful and you’re proven right, the swell of them so soft, the way he fits them together with yours; you bask in how gentle the kiss is, eyes slipping shut so you can focus on the sensation. One kiss turns into two, into three, presses of your lips against each other, and you’re so caught up in it that you almost forget about the warmth of Jimin’s hand between your thighs— but your eyes fly open and your breath hitches when he finally slips his fingers into your panties. He runs them up your lower lips, touch still teasing, but then he presses his fingertips against your clit, hard, and you gasp against his lips.

He swallows the sound. Your kisses become open mouthed and you lick desperately into his mouth before he starts to circle his fingers around your pearl of nerves, making you jolt against the side of the car. You have to tip your head back to suck in air, breathless from the kisses and sensitivity, and Jimin takes the opportunity to dip his head and kiss the side of your neck, dragging his teeth over your skin. He nips at the sensitive junction between your neck and shoulder and purses his lips before he sucks hard at it, laving his tongue over the mark that's sure to blossom into a hickey.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp. Jimin takes the hand that has been bracing himself against the car and moves it to the back of your neck instead, fingers resting at your lower hairline in a grasp that feels surprisingly tender even as he tips your head forward so he can catch your lips again, now that he's left a physical reminder of himself in your skin. The juxtaposition between the slowness of these kisses and the way he’s starting to teasingly dip his fingers just into your entrance is making your head spin, reeling, his soft lips opposing his firm touch. “Jimin.” Your voice is needy as you dig your fingers into Jimin’s shoulder blades. “Please, I need more.”

Jimin rests his forehead against yours, staring at you, and his voice is low as he speaks. “Don’t worry,” he says, with a little smile. “When we’re not racing, I’ll always make sure that you come first.”

You can’t help but giggle. “That’s so stupid,” you say, and Jimin laughs quietly with you, but then your laughter cuts into an inhalation of air as Jimin presses two fingers into you. “Oh, that’s just unfair,” you pant, but you tilt your hips forward to give him a better angle. You’ve always been fascinated with Jimin’s hands, as small and pretty as they are, and they don’t need to hit deep to make you feel good, filling you up so well as he continues to slide them into your tight, wet heat.

He uses the heel of his palm to grind against your clit as he continues to thrust his fingers into you, and it’s almost embarrassing, how quickly you approach your peak. Since you broke up with your ex you haven’t had sex with anyone else, and you’re usually so tired after work or racing that you don’t make time to pleasure yourself alone— but you get the feeling that even if these things weren’t true, you’d still get wound up this quickly, because it’s Jimin.

You think he knows that, too. You’ve stopped kissing, now, your mouths just open against each other, barely touching, and his eyes are drinking each of your reactions in, the way your body responds to him, the way the pleasure is written across your face. Your brows are drawn together and your breaths are coming faster, and Jimin pushes another finger in— it’s lewd, the slick sound of your wetness against his hand as he thrusts his fingers and continues to press his palm against your clit, the metal of his rings warmed from your skin. 

Just as you think you’re about to cum, Jimin’s hand stops. You make a noise of need, one of your hands coming to clutch his arm as you try to buck your hips, but it’s not enough. You choke back a sob. “Jimin,” you say. “I’m so close.”

“Ask politely, baby,” he replies, smile wicked, and you almost keen. Normally you’d refuse to beg, but you’re wound so tight right now, so needy—

“Please, Jimin,” you beg. “Let me cum, please, I wanna cum, please, fuck, oh—” Jimin’s started to move his hand again, even faster than before, and you grind your hips into it, riding those fingers with wanton desperation.

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs. “I want to see you fall apart.”

You shudder at his words. It only takes a few more hard curls of his fingers and one particularly long press against your clit and you tumble over the edge; you can feel how your walls ripple around him as waves of pleasure spark through you, the cum that flushes out of you, and you’re writhing against the Pontiac, riding out your orgasm around his fingers. You don’t know what noises you’re making but Jimin muffles them, pressing his tongue past your lips and licking the sounds out of your mouth.

When he pulls his fingers out of you and takes his hands out of your panties, you shiver, still oversensitive. “God, Jimin, you make me feel so good,” you whimper. Jimin looks pleased, and when he lifts his hand to your lips you let them fall open as you stare up at him. You take his fingers into your mouth without protest, circling them with your tongue, licking across his knuckles and fingertips hungrily, the taste of your own pleasure lingering on your tongue as you bob your head and look at Jimin meaningfully.

You’re both startled out of the moment when you hear footsteps and voices approaching. You freeze, the two of you stiffening against each other; although you’re sequestered from the party, you’re not so far away that people couldn’t stumble across you. Jimin pulls your head into his chest so that you’re hidden from view, his head turning in the direction of the sounds— when they fade he lets you go and you go lax and flop backwards over the roof of your car, letting your arms spread wide after that brief moment of panic passes. Jimin turns his head to look down at you, and you give him a smile, still punch-drunk from your post orgasm come down, which he returns. His lips are kiss swollen and he looks so beautiful like this, silhouetted by the night sky behind him as he smiles at you, even if the rest of your surroundings leave something to be desired.

“Wow, Jimin.” You lift one of your hands to draw it down his chest, pulling the neckline of his shirt even lower, revealing more of his skin to you. You can’t help but sigh with delight, almost overwhelmed. “Do you have any idea how incredible you are?” 

His smile turns surprisingly cheeky. “Maybe, but I wouldn’t complain if you wanted to tell me again,” he says, and you laugh.

“Your praise kink is showing,” you tease. You lift your other hand and draw your palms over his stomach, surprised but pleased when you feel lines of hard muscle through the fabric of his shirt. “You never had anything to prove, you know,” you say, softer now. “Changkyun is nothing to me. No one else is. You’re the only person on this circuit who I watch.”

Jimin bends forwards, resting his elbows on the roof, hovering above you as he continues to give you that cheeky smile. “Oh?”

You smile back. “Don’t act like you don’t know it,” you say. It’s true that you hadn’t had plans to try and fuck Jimin, but it’s also true that— “When I drive, the only person I want to beat is you. No one else matters. You’ve ruined me, Park Jimin. I never used to care like this.”

In the distance, someone’s engine backfires. Neither of you react to the noise. Jimin is looking down at you with a soft but unreadable expression on his face. “I saw Changkyun approaching you at the afterparty.”

You tilt your head back against the car, lifting your chin as your eyes squeeze with laughter. “Then you saw how I basically told him to fuck off?”

“Yes.” Jimin’s smile goes so wide you can see his teeth, eyes crescents, face bright. “That made me happy.”

“Ah, so you like praise and you’re possessive. Cute,” you say, running a finger down Jimin’s forehead and to the end of his nose, before tapping it. “I suppose now is a good time to let you know that I’m possessive, too.”

“Good,” Jimin says, and then lets out a tinkling laugh when you make a kissing noise at him through pursed lips. “Is that why I saw you disappear after that girl grabbed me?”

“No comment,” you reply, but then pout at him when he crooks an eyebrow at you. “I wasn’t about to watch someone else climbing all over you, was I? She was gorgeous, of course I was jealous.”

“You have nothing to be jealous of.” Jimin lightly draws one of his hands over your collarbones, thumbing at the hollow under your neck, your skin hypersensitive to his touch. “You’re the only one I want.”

You let the self-satisfaction show on your face and Jimin laughs again. He’s still giggling when you start to run your fingers rhythmically through his hair, combing through the product that’s keeping it out of his face, and watch as the locks start to cover his forehead. He makes a questioning noise at the back of his throat. “What are you doing?”

“I want to look,” you say. He always has his forehead at least a little bared, and the one time you’d seen it covered, it had transformed his whole look, and you want to see if it was a fluke. 

It wasn’t. Like this his hair is so long it hangs in his eyes, but because he’s bent forward it just frames his face instead, and it almost feels like a curtain that’s shutting off the rest of the world, letting you see a softer side that he never reveals on the circuit. “Ah, there it is. The duality of man,” you sigh happily. Cute, but gorgeous. Soft, but devastating. Incredible.

You draw your hands back down his body, and then you roughly tug his shirt out from where it’s been tucked into his trousers. You feel how his stomach jumps when you lightly drag your fingers across it, feeling the faint definition of abs, and you can’t help but grin. “You’re a fucking meal, Park Jimin,” you say, hooking your fingers in his belt. You tug on it, using the weight of Jimin’s body help you up— he straightens as you do, and your hips are flush, the material of your skirt still hitched up so that the damp material of your panties is rubbing against him, and you can feel his growing hardness. “Can I have a taste?”

Jimin laughs again. When you smile back at him, he leans in and slants his mouth against yours, a small touch of your lips before he pulls back. “Anything you want,” he says, and your smile turns hungry.

You tug at him, repositioning your bodies so that he’s pressed up against the Pontiac instead. He leans back on his arms, bracing his palms against the low roof of the car as you step back for a little bit of room so that you can unbuckle his belt. You use one hand to lift his shirt up, revealing his chest and stomach to you, the lines of muscle he keeps hidden away. Your mouth waters. You’re briefly distracted when you notice stark lines of black on his ribs, splaying your fingers under the tattoo you find there; you want to taste it. So you crouch, dipping your head to lick across the sensitive skin of his rib cage and over each letter, NEVERMIND etched permanently into his skin.

You can feel how Jimin reacts, the way his chest jumps as he sucks in a breath. You want to know what the tattoo means, why he got it, but that can wait— right now you have more pressing matters to attend to. You run your tongue down the line of his stomach as you drag his zipper down with deft fingers, and then pull your face away to watch as you start to pull his jeans down. You take in the sight of his hard cock, contained by his briefs, the damp patch of precum darkening the fabric around the head.

You glance up at Jimin as you shift from a crouch and fully onto your knees. Your bare skin presses against the pavement, rough, but you don’t care; Jimin’s eyes are dark and heavy as he watches you kneel in front of him, and you keep your eyes locked as you purse your lips and kiss the tip of his cock through his underwear. He hisses. You grip his shaft through the fabric, mouthing at the head and dragging your wet tongue across the cotton, staring coyly up at him the whole time.

“Tease,” Jimin says. You huff out a laugh and take your hand away from where it’s been holding his shirt up and cup his balls through his briefs, drunk on how you can see and feel his dick twitching when you do. 

“I give as good as I get, babe,” you say. Jimin takes one of his hands off the Pontiac to rest on the top of your head and lightly tangles his fingers in your hair, grip just edging on firm— you understand the tacit implication of his action and surrender control to him, skimming your hands over his hip bones and around to his ass. 

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t stared at his behind a thousand times, his thick thighs and his round ass, and it feels even better under your hands than you thought. You dip your fingers under the waistband of his briefs and into the soft flesh underneath it, digging your fingernails in before pulling the underwear down so you expose Jimin to the night air. His cock bobs as it comes free of the fabric, as perfect as the rest of him, flushed red head shining with precum. 

Maybe you have a bit of an oral fixation and love giving head, or maybe Jimin’s cock is impossible to resist: all you know is that you need to taste him. Your mouth falls open and you let your tongue rest on your bottom lip for just a moment before you suck the head of his cock into your mouth. He makes the prettiest noise, his fingers tightening against your scalp as you tongue at the slit and lap up the precum that’s gathered there, salt and warmth bursting across your taste buds. Your hands aren’t idle, either, touching the parts of his cock that aren’t in your mouth, fingers on his shaft and around his balls. 

You run your mouth along the side of his length, flicking your tongue and dragging it across a vein, watching Jimin the whole time. He’s staring at you, the way you use your spit-slick lips to press kisses along his cock, the tip, drinking down every drip of precum that beads there, tonguing the sensitive spot just under the head where it meets the shaft. 

Saliva is filling your mouth, mingling with the taste of Jimin on your tongue, and you swallow him back down. You relax your jaw and lower your head, taking Jimin down inch by inch, the weight of his cock heavy in your mouth; you continue to roll his balls in your hand while you use the other to grip what little’s not in your mouth. Jimin’s eyes are wide as he watches how you skilfully swallow him down until you can feel him at the back of your throat, breathing through your nose, and then you start to rapidly bob your head.

“Oh, fuck!” Jimin’s hips jump and you almost gag when his cock thrusts into your throat, off rhythm to how you’re moving, but you’re nothing if not a trooper and recover quickly.  He’s not the biggest you’ve ever had but that just means that you can swallow most of him down, deepthroating him, noises lewd as saliva drips past your lips and onto your chin. You’ve never been afraid to get dirty, and seeing the way Jimin is quickly losing control makes it all the better; you feel his balls tightening in your hand and you can see how his face is twisting, his brows furrowed and his lips falling open as he breathes through his mouth, thrusting forwards in time with the bobbing of your head. You desperately chase that, matching his rhythm as he speeds up; you want to wreck him. 

His fingers dig into your scalp. “I’m gonna cum,” he warns, and you just flick him a glance through your lashes as you swallow particularly loudly and start to go faster, turning your focus to his head, using a hand to twist around his shaft and jerk off his length. His hips drive forward one more time before he cries out, and you can feel how his cock twitches as he cums into your mouth, hot and salty; you suck down each wave of cum, lips tight around him as your hand continues to milk him, grip firm, until he’s twitching from oversensitivity and pulling you off him with the fingers in your hair.

You’re still holding onto his softening length. He looks fucked out, pupils blown, a pink flush down his neck, and he’s panting almost as hard as you are; he watches as you lick your lips, and you feel how his dick gives a half-hearted twitch in your hands, although his face twists a little into a pained expression. “You’re unbelievable,” Jimin says, and you let out a little laugh, pleased.

“And your dick is spectacular,” you say. Your voice is a little hoarse, but god, that was worth it and you would do it again. You’d suck Park Jimin’s cock until you lost your voice if he’d let you. You lift the fabric of your shirt to wipe your chin and mouth, cleaning the saliva that’s gathered and then turn your attention back to the man, hand gentle in your hair as he’s been watching you.

You lift his briefs and jeans for him, standing up and brushing your knees off before you tuck his shirt back in and then do up his zip and buckle his belt, smoothing his outfit back into place. You’re looking down at your hands as you do this, and so you don’t see the way Jimin is looking at you with something akin to affection. “I know a lot of guys don’t like dick mouth,” you say, flicking your eyes up. “But—”

Jimin’s kissing you before you can finish your sentence. You muffle a noise of surprise and kiss him back, shivering when he licks into your mouth, running his tongue across your teeth and over your lips. When you pull back, you end up giggling a little, running a finger under his chin and then tapping his swollen lips. “I was about to say, I still have my water, but I guess that doesn’t matter now, huh?”

You still reach for your drink, lifting the can from where it’s remained steady on the car, filling your mouth with the sweet taste of peach and fizz as you swish it around and then swallow. Jimin watches as you do and then reaches for the can himself— you tip it against his lips and let him finish the rest, watching the way his Adam's apple bobs, and tilt your head to kiss it as it does. He shivers, and you nose at his neck before sucking the skin so that you'll leave a mark on him, too. A reminder of you. He smells so nice, soft orange and something floral, maybe, subtle and light; you really like all these little details about Jimin, how he’s not brash at all, but rather, elegant and understated— and yet still undeniably powerful in his own way. 

You both startle when you hear someone calling out your name, surprisingly nearby. It sounds like they’re coming right in your direction, just around the corner, and there’s only two people who know where you like to park—

“Y/n! I’ve been looking everywhere for y- oh.” Jungkook literally freezes mid step, one foot in the air, blinking at how you and Jimin are standing flush with each other, Jimin’s stance wide so you can stand between his legs, while his hands are resting on your waist. You can see the cogs in Jungkook's mind working, and he puts his foot down in slow-mo as he slowly starts to smile. "Oh, didn't mean to interrupt, don't mind me," he says with a shit eating grin.

"It's okay," Jimin says. "I should go."

You can't help but pout. "So soon? Kookie can leave."

Jimin seems amused, but much to your surprise he indulges you with a small kiss; you didn't think he'd be so forward when someone else was watching. “I'll see you at the next race, sweet thing,” he murmurs, acting as if Jungkook isn't there.

“If you win again, I'll do something nice for you,” you say, and he laughs.

“And if you win?”

“Then you have to do something nice for me. Equal exchange, darling.”

Jimin just smiles. “Sounds like an agreement.”

He leaves with a small wave, and even flicks a wink at Jungkook as he goes past, the taller man watching him go. As soon as Jimin is out of sight your friend rounds on you with a I Knew It expression on his face.

“Yeah, okay, you were right,” you say, lifting a hand to cut him off before he can say anything. “You should just feel glad you hadn't turned up earlier. I think you might have seen some things you would regret.”

“That's gross,” Jungkook says, though he sounds cheerful. He loves being proven right. Brat. “You’d better not start letting him win, though.”

You snort. “Please, as if I would. The race is part of the foreplay.”

“That’s gross,” Jungkook says again. This time he sounds like he means it, and you laugh.

--

“There are way too many people here today,” Taehyung says. You can’t help but agree.

“They need to back off before I start swinging,” you mutter. Jungkook grabs your shoulder and squeezes it.

“We’ve got you,” he says, and you relax.

The multi-level car park in Yongsan is packed to the gills with people, faces in the crowd you know you’ve never seen; you’ve never raced here before and you’re not sure how word got out to so many people, but they’re clearly not familiar with the unspoken etiquette of the circuit and people keep trying to approach your goddamn car. You’ll allow it after a race, people rushing up to congratulate or whatever, but right now you’re grateful to have Jungkook and Taehyung warding people off while you staunchly ignore the wolf whistles aimed in your direction. You're too uncomfortable to play up to it today.

There are a lot of really tweaked out cars here. There’s even another American car, an electric blue Mustang that’s really beautiful, but you wonder at the choice of such a long pony car in the tight corners of an indoor car park.

“At least the prize money will be good?” Taehyung hazards. He’s not wrong— the prize money is a few hundred thousand won higher than normal, probably reflecting the more luxurious district that you’re racing in today. You wonder if that’s why Seokjin organised it here, for more exposure, more cash. The truth is, though, there are more important things that you want to win tonight. On that note—

“Hi, sweet thing,” Jimin says from behind you, and you turn around.

“Jiminie,” you sigh, relieved. Under his jacket his shirt is loose, material tastefully flimsy, and you can’t help but feel smug at the blossoms of colour over his pale neck and across his clavicle, tacit reminders of the race before last when he’d edged ahead of you just before the finish line. The pleats of your skirt cover your upper legs, but Jimin has already seen the similar blooms he’d left on your inner thighs, drawing out the noises you’d made as he’d eaten you out on the hood of his Nissan after your last win. “God, you look good.”

He smiles. “You do too, baby.”

You already feel more relaxed upon seeing him, warmth bursting through your chest at the pet names. “It’s so busy today.” There’s a little whine in your voice as you complain to Jimin and he crooks you a smile, indulgent.

“Just keep your eyes on me, ignore everyone else.”

“That’s like telling the sun to shine, it’s going to happen whether you say it or not,” you scoff. Jimin gives you that smile that he reserves for you, that only you can read because no one else is as good at deciphering his expressions as you are— flattered, bashful, pleased. It’s small, subdued because of the people around you, but you’ll make sure to make him smile like that again later when the two of you are alone together. You melt a little and try not to overthink how quickly Jimin has wormed his way inside your heart; at the end of the day, despite how many times you’ve touched him with your mouth and your hands, you’re still rivals. (Even if that line seems to be growing ever more blurred as time goes on.)

“So when’s the wedding?” Jungkook asks once Jimin’s out of earshot.

“It’s not like that, it’s just a physical thing,” you say. 

“Riiiiiiiiiiight.” Jungkook raises his eyebrows at you. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

“He really likes you, you know,” Taehyung mentions conversationally. “Yoongi says he talks about you a lot.”

“Almost as much as she talks about him?” Jungkook looks at you knowingly, and you pout at them both.

“Leave me alone, you know I’m a delicate flower,” you say, which makes them laugh. You don’t talk about Jimin that much, no matter what Jungkook says.

Your eyebrows raise when you find out who you’re racing tonight. They’ve put you up against someone you don’t recognise or know the name of, the driver of the Mustang, it turns out, the Yongsan crowd wanting to see how both American cars will fare against each other. Your Pontiac is a lot smaller, nippier, but you have no idea what’s under the hood of the other car— although you have to admit the matching blue LEDs that are shining out under the Mustang and from its headlights are pretty, a lot more dramatic than your unadorned Solstice. But you’ve never been showy, and theatrical prettiness means nothing when you’re racing. It’s down to mechanics and skill, not aesthetic. (Besides, your car is beautiful enough that she doesn’t need flashy additions to draw the eye.)

You catch sight of Jimin in your rearview mirror just as you’ve finished strapping yourself in. He’s a point of stillness in the heaving crowd that’s pressing in on the start of the race from all sides, and you see how his eyes crinkle as he smiles and mouths good luck. You rev your engine, finding yourself smiling back before you look over at the driver of the Mustang, who has a cocky grin on his face.

“I’m going to eat you alive,” he says, and you just smile beatifically while batting your eyelashes.

“Big words for such a small man,” you reply, and you see how his fingers tighten around the steering wheel, white knuckled. “Ooh, did that make you mad? Would you rather I pretended to be worried? Who even are you, anyway?”

“I’m going to make you regret saying that,” he snarls, and you laugh.

“You’ll have to catch me first,” you say, winking at him before your window rises and cuts him off.

The second the race begins you slam down on your accelerator, Solstice leaping forward as the Mustang screeches to life beside you. He’s a reckless driver, slamming into turns with too much speed and relying on the heavier weight of his car to keep him steady; you’re having to drive cautiously, swerving away from him when he seems to get too close to you, which happens more often than you like. It almost seems intentional, like he’s trying to take you out, and you grit your teeth as you slide into another turn, watching as he goes wide and sends safety cones scattering as his car swings into them.

It’s not hard to pull out ahead. You pop your handbrake as you approach the spiral ramp up to the final level and your Solstice curls into the rising turn with ease, the shortness of your car meaning that you can soar through the tightness of the walls without scraping along the sides. You emerge onto the rooftop to a yelling crowd and pump your throttle, turning your wheel so you arc out and slide to a smooth stop.

The Mustang appears moments after, though you’re being swarmed by the crowd and almost don’t notice. Thankfully Jungkook and Taehyung are the first to reach you, as normal, a fact which you’re grateful for moments later when the Mustang driver shoves his way through the crowd and makes a direct beeline for you.

You’ve been drifting for a long time, and you’ve experienced your fair share of abuse and bitterness from people who’ve lost against you, but you’ve been around long enough and built up enough of a reputation that you avoid most of it nowadays. The Mustang driver, however, looks furious, apoplectic with rage, and you don’t know what’s going through his head as he approaches you, but it can’t be anything good. You instinctively reach out for the person closest to you— Taehyung— who starts to turn, and Jungkook has noticed him too, already moving to interpose himself.

“Get out of my way,” the Mustang driver barks. “That bitch is mine.”

“Back off,” Jungkook snarls. You’ve never heard him sound like this before, this level of ferocity, eyes wild. “Take one step closer and I’ll make you fucking regret it.”

Taehyung also steps in front of you. There’s a moment where you wonder if you could have avoided this— if you hadn’t taunted him at the beginning, maybe?— but Taehyung’s hand squeezes yours reassuringly, and you realise it probably would have panned out like this anyway. Some people just hate to lose. You catch sight of Jimin at the front of the crowd, staring at you with concern, but Yoongi’s got a hold of him, fingers wrapped tight around his wrist as he holds him in place.

“What are you, her little bitch boy?” The Mustang driver barks at Jungkook. “Are you her little fuckbuddy, huh?”

Jungkook has a black belt in Taekwondo and he’s recently started boxing, too, on top of his general gym rat lifestyle, muscles visible under the tattoos that adorn his arms. Jungkook is literally the worst person you could ever want to get into a fight against; he’s sweet and lovely but he won’t take things lying down, especially if it’s one of his friends being threatened. You see how Jungkook’s shoulders go stiff, and you know you’re seconds away from a physical altercation— the onlookers are making no moves to intervene, and instead are fumbling for their phones to film it— but then Hoseok is there, sliding between them, fingers touching Jungkook’s rising hand.

“Guys, guys, guys,” he laughs breezily, as if he isn’t in the firing line right now. “What’s the hold up? I’m waiting for my turn to race but it seems like the crowd is all here rather than at the starting line.”

“I have some things to say to her,” the Mustang driver says, pointing at you. “And this asshole is in my way.”

Jungkook’s lip curls back from his teeth, but before he can say anything, Hoseok laughs again. “Is that what this is about? Is she really worth your time and energy? If you start a fight, you’ll be banned from the circuit.”

You don’t catch the rest of what Hoseok says, Taehyung turning you away from them and hustling you to your car. “We’ll deal with this, don’t worry,” he says, voice low as he opens your door for you. “I’ll speak to Seokjin and make sure this guy gets dealt with, but for now it’s probably a good idea to get out of here.”

Your eyes flicker over to where the guys are still standing— Jungkook still looks tense, even if it seems like Hoseok is doing his best to smooth things over, casual and at ease. You have no doubt that this is the last time you’ll see the Mustang driver, as confrontational and aggressive as he is, but you still don’t like how genuinely useless you feel right now.  “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“We’ll be fine,” Taehyung says. “Go on. I promise I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

You relent and do as you’re told. “I’m going to Namsan,” you tell him, and he nods in understanding.

You catch Jimin’s eye in your rearview as you gun your engine and leave, and you know without a doubt that he’ll come find you later. The drive to Namsan is a familiar one, although you don’t drift or speed and instead you take your time; you roll to a quiet stop once you reach your destination, rough dirt underfoot as you step out of your car, staring at the panorama of downtown Seoul. You don’t know how long you’ve been reclining against your car and drinking down the sight of the city lights below you when you register the sound of Jimin’s deep exhaust rumbling up the mountain road, the sound of his Skyline as familiar to you as your Pontiac by this point, turning your head to see him pull into the deserted lay-by beside you.

“You found me,” you say by way of greeting. Jimin doesn’t even shut his door and immediately makes his way over to you and cups your face in his hands. You relax into his touch, letting your eyes slip shut as he brushes a thumb over your cheek.

“Tae told me where you’d be,” he says. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You smile lazily, eyes slowly opening. Jimin is filling your vision, surrounded by the twinkling lights of Seoul below and the dark night sky above, and he’s still the most beautiful thing you can see. “It’s not the first time I’ve had an asshole get angry at me, but he’s definitely the most aggressive I’ve ever experienced.” A frown mars Jimin’s features, and you lift one of your hands to smooth out the lines in his brow. “It’s okay. I’m grateful that I have the boys to look after me. And you, too.”

Jimin’s frown fades, but he still looks unhappy. “I’m sorry,” he says, and you blink.

“For what?”

“For not being able to do more. I just stood there and watched.”

You smile gently. “You didn’t have to get involved, Jimin,” you say. “I didn’t expect you to do anything.”

You mean this in a nice way but Jimin’s face goes hard. You’re about to ask if you said something wrong when he cuts you off by kissing you fiercely, and you have to grab his shoulders to keep yourself to tipping backwards on the Pontiac’s hood. Jimin’s hands slide down your waist and he cups your ass before he lifts you; you squeal in surprise and latch onto him, curling your arms and legs around him so he doesn’t drop you.

Jimin might look lithe, but you’ve seen his bare arms and chest often enough to know of the muscle power he has. He walks the two of you to his car, kissing you as he does and your eyes widen as you realise he’s about to try and manoeuvre you both in through the open door while still holding onto you. He makes a noise against your lips as you pull away from the kiss.

“Jimin, put me down for a second,” you say.

“I don’t want to stop touching you.” He noses at your neck, and you shiver.

“If you drop me I’ll never forgive you,” you murmur, and he relents, careful as he sets you down, digging his fingers hard into your ass before he lets go. You’ve barely caught your balance before Jimin slides into his seat, kicking the bar under the chair to send it as far back as possible.

“Get in,” he says, and you instantly comply, climbing into his lap before he slams the door shut. It’s cramped like this but neither of you care, Jimin capturing your lips again as you grind against him, the fabric of your skirt rubbing over his jeans— you’ve started to wear skirts and dresses more often for the ease of access it offers Jimin once a race is over.

“Someone seems a little desperate today.” You mean to sound teasing but you’re too breathless to do so. “You want me to suck your dick that badly?”

“No,” Jimin answers, and the movement of your hips stutters a little as you react with confusion, but then— “I’m going to fuck you tonight, sweet thing,” he continues, and a moan slips unbidden from your lips. The two of you haven’t fucked yet, never going further than using your hands and mouths, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t imagined Jimin’s cock inside you instead of just his fingers and tongue. “Does my baby like the sound of that?”

“Please,” you say. “God, please, Jimin, I want it so bad, want you to fuck me.”

One thing you’ve learned about Jimin is that he likes it when you’re desperate. He loves to edge you, watch you squirm, the power of your pleasure entirely in his hands, but you know how to play with him, too— know how to beg the way he likes it so that he gives you what you want. His pupils dilate as he listens to you plead and you can feel how hard he’s growing beneath you. He slides his hands under your jacket and over your shoulders, helping you slide it off, although it almost gets tangled over the steering wheel as you wriggle in his lap.

“This is so clumsy,” you giggle, and Jimin laughs too as you both struggle to throw the leather jacket onto the passenger seat, but then he grabs your hips and grinds up against your clothed heat and you gasp. “Oh, fuck. Take that damn shirt off, I want to see you too.”

It’s fumbled and chaotic but the two of you end up shedding your upper layer of clothes, shirts cast aside and forgotten. Jimin helps unclasp your bra, kissing the swell of your breasts before the garment drops and is thrown aside too, Jimin taking the opportunity to dip his head and lick one of your nipples. You gasp again and grab at his hair, grip tightening as he runs his tongue over the hardening bud while circling the other with a fingertip. He keeps changing his attention between them, sucking and licking them until you’re a panting, writhing mess in his lap, lips moving so perfectly against your skin.

“Jimin, please,” you whisper, running your hands over all the bare skin you can touch. “I want to feel you.”

It takes less effort than you’d thought as you crane your body upwards to give Jimin space to shove his jeans and underwear down. His cock is hard, lying against his stomach and smearing precum against his skin as he leans back in the chair. You spit into your palm before taking the length in your hand; a familiar weight by now, the curve of him so perfect in your palm, and you shiver in anticipation. Jimin jolts as you pump him to full hardness, running your thumb over the slit of his cock and gathering the wetness there before spreading it over the rest of him, twisting your wrist as you let your hand rise and fall. 

“Fuck,” Jimin swears, grip on your hips so tight it’s almost bruising. You’re still in your skirt and panties, but somehow it seems dirtier like this than if you’d been fully naked; Jimin’s hand slips under your skirt and pushes the material of your panties aside, revealing your core to him, and you shudder when he drags a finger up your slit, feeling the wetness that’s gathered around your opening. His eyes are hungry. “Always so wet for me.”

You drag your hips forward into his touch, trembling when you feel the press of his fingers over your clit. “Always want you,” you breathe. “Please, I want your cock in me so bad—”

He silences you with a kiss, tongue slick and wet in your mouth, and you lean into it, hand tightening around his length as you move to guide it into you. He stops you with firm hands, one on your waist and the other bracing your inner thigh, and you whine against his lips. “Jimin, Jiminie, I need you.”

“Hold on,” he says, but you can hear the edge to his voice, how he doesn’t want to stop either. “I just— condom—”

“I’m clean,” you say, legs trembling as you continue to hold your position above him, muscles screaming at you to just drop down and let Jimin’s cock fill you up the way you want, but you stay steady. “I got tested after I broke up with my ex— and I’m still on the pill— fuck, Jimin, wanna feel you fill me up.”

Jimin’s eyes are blown, swallowing the dark brown of his irises. The hand on your inner thigh moves and he plunges two fingers into you and you suck in air, your body opening up for him as he presses deep into your inner walls. One thing you’ve discovered over the months is that Jimin reverts to his Busan dialect when he’s turned on, his voice a surprisingly deep drawl that makes you shiver. “Baby wants my cum, hm?”

Your head drops forward and you pant against his shoulder, body jolting each time he curls his fingers against your sweet spot just the way you like it. “Yes, I want it,” you say, and then gasp as he pushes another finger in, hard and fast, stretching you; you’re so turned on and wet that it slips in easily. “Jimin, please.”

Normally you’re certain he’d drag this out longer but he seems as desperate as you, pulling his fingers out of you in one deft motion that has your pussy clenching around the sudden emptiness. He shifts his hands to your waist, holding you tight, and you use one of your hands to keep the material of your sodden panties out of the way as you hold onto his cock with the other, guiding the tip towards your entrance. Jimin lets you down slowly, his head breaching you first and stretching you so well; you tip your head back and arch your spine as you feel him slowly splitting you open, thicker than his fingers as you lower down inch by glorious inch until your hips are flush and you’ve taken him as deep as you can.

Jimin rolls his hips upwards and your hands fly to his shoulders for balance as you clench around him. He hisses. “You’re so tight, sweet thing,” he says, and you grind down against him, moving your hips in little circular motions that has both of you gasping. You bite your lip as Jimin lifts you back up, just as slow as before, and you revel in the sensation of his cock dragging against your inner walls, sensations electric inside you. 

You keep this languid pace for a while, wet and slick, Jimin sucking more marks into your neck as you drag your nails down his chest before you decide to switch things up— you catch Jimin off guard, his hands loose around your waist now, and drop your hips down. The air is punched out of your lungs at the way Jimin’s cock thrusts into you and fills you up all at once, so deep and full, a similar moan ripped out of his lips before his eyes go dark.

“So that’s the game you want to play,” he says. You grin mischievously as you tilt your hips so that your clit rubs against him, shuddering as your toes curl at the pleasure shooting through you.

“You said you’d always make me come first,” you say, batting your eyelashes at him innocently, as if you’re not grinding down his cock. “I thought I’d help you out.”

A thrill sparks through you at Jimin’s expression. He doesn’t respond with words and instead he tightens his grip around your waist before he pulls you almost entirely off his cock, the flushed head just touching your entrance as you squirm in his hold. You wonder if he’s going to keep teasing you but then his hips buck upwards as he pulls you down, and you cry out as he drives into you, setting an unforgiving pace as he begins to drill into you. The car starts to rock with his sharp motions, filled with the sounds of your gasps and moans as you ride him, the slap of skin on skin as you edge closer and closer to your orgasm— but when you tilt your face back and your eyes slip shut one of his hands grips your chin and pulls your head forward.

“Eyes on me.” He’s slowed his ruthless pace, staring into your eyes as he rolls his hips fluidly against yours. “I want to look at me when you cum around my cock.”

“J-Jimin,” you hiccup, and he continues to watch your face as he thrusts into you again— your mouth falls open as your body jolts forward in his lap, but you keep your eyes locked on his. “Jimin, I’m so close,” you say, and he responds with a particularly hard drive upwards. One of your hands drops from his shoulder to rub at your clit, fingers desperate as you circle the bundle of nerves in time with the motion of Jimin’s hips, and you know you’re so close to your peak— a few more presses of his cock into you and you’re gone, pleasure sparking through you as you cum and tighten around him, walls rippling against his cock. You cry out, body tensing as you lean into the sensation, shuddering at how much wetter you grow, flushing out of you onto Jimin’s still-hard erection.

Your eyes widen when he doesn’t stop moving. You’re being thrown into oversensitivity, writhing as Jimin continues to pump his hard length into you, but he knows you can take it, drawing multiple orgasms out of you with his fingers and tongue; your hand falls away from your sensitive pearl as Jimin keeps you bouncing in his lap, each deep push into you more than enough to draw out the pleasure from your first orgasm, sobbing in a gasping breath each time he breaches you again. You do your best to match his pace, and you can tell that he’s close, his rhythm starting to falter as the noises slipping past his lips grow more guttural. All his usual sophistication is completely gone as he chases his own release, but he’s still elegant, still gorgeous— it’s the shimmer of sweat at his temples from his exertions and the growing heat in the car, the motion of his body as he rolls his hips, the beautiful dark of his eyes and the kiss-swollen flush to his already full lips. Park Jimin is so utterly overwhelming, and somehow, in some way, he’s yours, and you’re blindsided by your second orgasm, the realisation throwing you into more waves of pleasure as your body goes tense again and you grind down into Jimin with a drawn out moan.

Jimin’s hips stutter. He’s clearly as surprised as you at the fact you’ve come again so soon, but then his eyes fall shut as he grits his teeth after one particularly tight clench of your pussy and he’s cumming too. He empties himself inside you, hot cum painting your insides with each twitch of his cock as you press closer to him, bodies locked together. He chases each wave of his cum with a thrust, pushing as deep into you as he can,  the last, weaker ripples of your own orgasm drawing the evidence of his pleasure further inside you until he finally stills, hips flush.

You’re both panting as you come down from your highs, your muscles protesting in the uncomfortable position you’re keeping them in, as cramped as you are- but you don’t want to separate from Jimin, and he seems to feel the same, grip sliding from your waist to circle his arms around you and pull you impossibly closer. He keeps you close as he helps lift you upwards, his cock sliding out of you; you clench as tight as you can but not before a dribble of his cum drips out of you and runs down his softening length, and you shiver at the sensation of that warmth as Jimin sets you gently back down in his lap before settling against you.

His head is nestled against your chest, hair tickling your neck and under your chin. All the lust from your fucking feels like it’s slowly ebbing away, and you’re left with tenderness instead, your fingers scratching lightly through the shorter hair at the nape of Jimin’s neck in a manner that’s more affectionate than it probably should be; this is just physical, it’s all physical, but you like Jimin so much that you can’t help but let that adoration shine through right now. If he says anything about it afterwards you can just blame it on the post orgasm glow. It’s fine. This is fine. He doesn’t need to know.

Eventually Jimin pulls his head away and you lean back so that he can look up at you. You’re stunned by how unguarded his expression is, how warm his eyes are. (He looks how you feel.)

“My baby,” he murmurs, and you smile.

“Jiminie.” A giggle slips out of you as Jimin’s hands cup your face, touch so light it’s ticklish. “Say it again.”

“My baby,” he repeats, fond, but then the warmth fades from his face and his expression becomes serious. “Y/n. Do you want this?”

“Hm?” You make a little noise of confusion. “Want what? You? Of course. Isn’t that obvious? I thought the fact that we just fucked would have been a giveaway.”

Normally he would have laughed at this, you know he would have, but his face stays level. He draws a thumb down the side of your face, and you turn into the touch. “Is that all you want? Just to fuck?”

Your eyes widen as they flick over his face, the implication behind his words. “What?”

“Do you know how much it killed me to watch Hoseok step in for you? It should have been me.” Jimin’s frowning, and you hate that expression, hate the anger on his face that he has directed towards himself. “I don’t want to stand by and pretend like you don’t mean anything to me. I don’t want to have to keep sneaking around and acting like I don’t want you. I want everyone to know that you’re mine and I’m yours, that they shouldn’t dare to try and put their hands on you.”

“Jimin,” you breathe. “Are you… are you saying you want to make this official? You want to be my boyfriend?” You run a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face, looking him in the eye even though you feel oddly vulnerable. “You want that?”

“Yes.” He lets you continue to fiddle with his hair, rhythmically combing it away from his forehead with your fingers. “Do you?”

You sigh as you go boneless against him. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something more,” you admit, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, uncharacteristically shy. “I think I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you, even though I thought you were a threat.”

Jimin stills at your confession and then laughs. “Because I’m so gorgeous?”

“And so humble, too,” you say, before pulling back to kiss his forehead, and then his nose, and then his lips. He smiles so wide his eyes squeeze shut. “Oh, keep smiling like that, you’re so cute when you smile like that.”

He keeps smiling like that as you kiss him again. He’s still smiling once you’ve redressed, even though you keep whining about your leg muscles cramping from how you’ve been curled into his lap; you lean against the door as you sit in his passenger seat and have your legs kicked over the centre console of his car so that he can massage your thighs, so maybe you’re exaggerating your complaints so that Jimin keeps his hands on you, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “I’ve been watching you from the very beginning, too,” Jimin says, and you kick your foot lightly in his grasp.

“That’s rivalry, babe,” you tease, and giggle when he catches your foot and holds it still. “Of course you’ve been watching me, you had to know what the competition was up to.”

“I wanted to bend you over the hood of your pretty little car from the second I heard you open that smart mouth of yours,” he says, and looks pleased when he feels how you shiver under his touch.

“You can do that whenever you’d like, now,” you say. You draw your legs back so that you can shift forwards and lean over the centre console, putting your fingers under Jimin’s chin so that you can plant a small kiss on his lips. “Boyfriend privileges.”

If someone had told you, back when you’d first met Park Jimin, that you’d end up like this, you would have laughed in their face and called them ridiculous. But now when he smiles up at you in a way that’s utterly open and sweet, completely at odds to how he presents himself on the circuit, it just feels natural. Like you’ve been drifting towards this moment from the second you’d locked eyes and shaken hands, rivals to lovers to partners, blending all those different facets into one; like it was inevitable from the start.

“Does that mean I can kiss you in public?” Jimin asks, and you kiss him again, letting it linger this time, sucking his plush bottom lip into your mouth and nipping lightly at it before pulling your head back.

“Baby, I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

--

The next time you meet at Namsan, Jimin’s dyed his hair. It’s no longer honey blond, and instead it’s baby pink, a soft pastel shade that of course looks beautiful on him, not to mention—

“You dyed your hair the same colour as my jacket,” you say, voice faint.

“Surprise, sweet thing.” This time when Jimin smiles it’s wide and open, ignoring the fact you’re about to race each other, ignoring the other drivers on the track, ignoring the crowd of onlookers; he only has eyes for you. “Do you like it?”

“Do I like— Park Jimin, I’m going to fuck your brains out after this race is over,” you say. “But right now I demand that you kiss me before I lose my mind.”

You end up kissing him against the side of your Pontiac, sucking on his tongue in a way that’s utterly lewd and scandalous, neither of you paying attention to shocked reactions it causes.

“Get a room,” Jungkook hollers, and Jimin laughs into your mouth as you flip him the bird.

--

[you can read the second part here!]

#jimin smut #jimin x reader #jimin x you #bts smut #bts #bts fanfic #bts oneshot #jimin fanfic #bts x reader #jimin #park jimin #joy.masterlist

[airyairyaucontraire]

I'm left feeling a bit bemused by the What We Do in the Shadows finale.

I'm not surprised at all about what happened with Colin Robinson, I was anticipating that he was doing some kind of phoenix life cycle thing. Other things felt a bit off to me, though. I don't know whether I think Nandor meant what he said to Guillermo after their fight - at the train station he did really seem to be expecting and hoping that Guillermo would join him and then disappointed and confused that he didn't, and yet I have not had the impression at all that he doubted Guillermo's commitment or thought that he was going soft, so why did he say that? He just saw Guillermo lay waste to a wellness cult to rescue him, hardly the act of a softie. Was the promise to finally turn him genuine or was he just trying to stop the fight and appease Guillermo before either of them really hurt the other? Why the total reversal from "I care too much about you to inflict vampirism on you"? (And Guillermo seems to have forgotten saying that he doesn't care about that any more, he just doesn't want Nandor to leave - which seemed like an important development so I was sorry to see it fall by the wayside.)

There didn't seem to be any real emotional reason (and I don't expect a rational reason from Nandor, he's a ditz) for him to make the changes of direction that he did. I also can't help wondering whether the vampires see all the footage the documentary crew assemble - like, if Guillermo could show Nandor the found CCTV footage of Jan leading her remaining followers to a fiery death, would that change how he felt about Guillermo so aggressively rescuing him? It feels like a lot has been left unresolved from that plotline which it would have been more satisfying to deal with before this season ended.

And why, when Guillermo kept trying to press the others to acknowledge their feelings about Colin Robinson dying, was he still refusing to address his real feelings to Nandor, saying the only reason Nandor was alive is "because I let you live" without giving him any reason why? (eg "because I love you," fucking DUH)

I was confused about what the Guide actually thought about what was going on - like, who's going to run the Vampiric Council in Staten Island with both Nandor and Nadja leaving? Does that matter to her? Is she just looking forward to running it herself without any knuckleheads interfering? I kept thinking she was going to try some sort of power play or switcheroo, possibly involving the Cloak of Duplication, or sending Nandor into danger, but nothing there.

Laszlo's expressions of love to Nadja seemed sincere and very touching, as is his determination to protect the new, larval form of Colin Robinson, but still...

basically, the way the season ended up felt more like a way to split everyone up so that the next season would have to be largely taken up with gradually getting them back together again (as well as whatever sort of growth process Colin Robinson will go through), thus delaying the conversations that Nandor and Guillermo really need to have.

Can Nandor actually manage travelling by himself? It doesn't seem likely. Either he doesn't get far and comes limping home pretty quickly, or he's going to have to find someone else to take care of him. He doesn't even know how to pay for things properly in shops, and he can't hypnotise people to do things they're not already willing to do, and he's incredibly easily distracted by things like slot machines and the Macarena.

And how is Laszlo going to manage on his own with a baby, albeit an uncanny baby which presumably feeds on energy rather than needing milk? Is he going to ask Sean and Charmaine for help or try to muddle through alone?

I wouldn't be surprised if Guillermo managed to make himself heard while being loaded onto the ship and got let out, but what would he do then? Or will they just have him fetch up in London with Nadja and be stuck there for a while, purely so he can't do the obvious thing, leave the ship, get back to the mainland and try to catch up with Nandor and explain what happened to him? Nadja and Doll Nadja can manage perfectly well by themselves; she was always the most sensible and competent vampire in the house, for a vampire value of sensible and competent. Even if Viago is tricking her, which seems awfully likely, she doesn't need Guillermo to look after her.

(Once again, how Viago has gone from dwelling in obscurity in Wellington to being in a position of authority in worldwide vampire society is an enduring mystery - do you think his, Vladislav's and Deacon's stock actually rose because they were in a documentary? Do they perhaps consider Nadja a threat because of the risk of her gaining popularity by the same route? Or do they just hate to see a girlboss winning?)

It wasn't very satisfying and it didn't leave me really excited to see what happens next because it seems like what happens next is mostly going to be a hassle to get out of the way before anything interesting or important can happen.

But I did really enjoy Laszlo accompanying himself on the piano and changing the tune appropriately while telling Guillermo his story. And it seemed like Donal Logue had fun.

#wwdits #wwdits fx #spoilers #wwdits spoilers

[magalidragon]

don’t judge a book by its cover | Jonerys Week Day 3: books appreciation

a/n: It is here! This was the fic I wrote first, it was the one I was most excited about, and I hope you all like it!

See if you can spot the cameos by @muttpeeta @ashleyfanfic @adecila @dracoignisworld @dragonanddirewolf @justwandering-neverlost @nlights37 @noordinarylines I love all their works and the ones named are only a small sampling of their great writing! I can only aspire to be half the writers and artists they are.

She turned another page, not looking at him when she spoke, almost amused. “Do you always watch your customers read or is it just me?”

She glanced up at him again, slightly annoyed as well as amused. He pinked again. “Just thought that the books downstairs might be more your speed,” he mumbled, gazing around the loft, with its low slanted ceilings and books stuffed in every nook and cranny. No one really came up here.

“My speed?” Those vibrant lavender eyes darted up to meet his gray ones. Her voice cooled. “What do you mean?”

“Just that the mysteries and fantasy genre seems more your alley, didn’t think you’d be interested in the classics.”

The pert plump red lips that had been smirking at him downstairs now pressed to a fine line. “Do you always insult your customers’ intelligence?” she snapped.

Well shit. “Ah…I just meant…”

“I think I know what you meant Mr. Snow.”

He stared at her dumbly. “How do you know my name?”

“It’s on the front door,” she laughed, rolling her eyes. He flushed, embarrassed. Oh yeah, duh. She uncrossed her legs, leaning back in the chair, tapping her nails on the book she kept in her lap. “Jon Snow, proprietor. Tell me Jon Snow, what makes you think I don’t read high literature? Is it because I was also perusing romance, fantasy, and suspense genres downstairs or the young adult section? Or was it the series about a threesome that I also plan on buying? No, it’s the fact that I’m a woman and so I can’t possibly be interested in anything other than those types of books, right? Or is it because I’m an actress and I must be a ditz?”

#jonerys #jonerysweek2020 #jonerysweek #jonerys au #my fics #jonerys fanfic #my moodboards #i hope you like it 🙈 #dreamofspring2020

[hunnyuwu]

Royal Flour || NCT Jeno

Premise: Y/N is the child of a local baker in a small village within the kingdom's vast circle. While everyone in town is in love with Y/N, the poor child seems to never take notice, committing all of their time to her time to perfecting father's meticulous craft. What happens when the kingdom’s prince first lays his eyes on her?

Pairing: fem! reader x prince! Jeno

WC: 3.5k

Warning: this will be extremely cliche and cringe hehe

__________________________

Y/N hummed to the soft tune that danced into her father's bakery through the open windows. The local string instrument genius was out again like usual, and Y/N was so grateful for the boy who constantly practices out in the courtyard by her house. It gave her so much pleasure to listen to the beautiful tune as she rolled out her millionth dough in her lifetime. Even if it is repetitious, Y/N never saw baking as a chore, the love her father had for it really did transfer straight to her.

"Ah, good morning, Y/N!" Y/N looked up from her pin roller, a gentle smile climbing to her lips.

"Hey, Luna! The usual?"

The girl younger than Y/N by a few years nodded frantically, excited for the steaming, fluffy bread. No one's bread could compete with her father's bakery.

"How has your father been, Y/N?" Luna hummed, looking around the nearly empty shop. It was only the crack of dawn, so it made sense.

"He's recovering, I believe he will be back soon!" Y/N chirped, packaging up five loaves and a few pastries into a large canvas carrier. While Luna used to only get one loaf per two days, the girl now was a daily customer, heaving a whopping five loaves away every day. As a special thanks, Y/N always slipped in extras for Luna, the cute girl had a special place in Y/N's heart.

"That's great to hear. Tell him to get well soon for me, okay!" Luna gave Y/N a sweet look, gratefully accepting the large bag from Y/N.

"Are you sure you will be able to carry those all by yourself, Luna? I can ask a friend to help you. I'd come myself, but I can't leave my father's shop unattended."

Luna waved Y/N's concern off, "Stop worrying, Y/N. I'm capable of this much. I'm off!"

Luna set off to the door, but a question flooded Y/N's mind, "Luna!"

Luna's curly hair spun around, letting the petite girl look back to Y/N.

"I'm just kind of curious. I know all those loaves aren't for your family. Do you give them to someone else?" Y/N was always curious about Luna, she was a complete mystery to her.

Luna winked, "I do give them to someone else. Anyways, I'm late so I really gotta go, see you soon, Y/N!" She gave one last wave before leaving through the large wooden door.

~ ~ ~

Y/N stood over a small stone marking. Nothing within her mind. She set down some flowers, remembering an important person in her life.

"Ah, I see that you're here too." Y/N turned around, not expecting this voice.

"Father? You're not supposed to be out of the infirmary!" The girl chastised, quickly running over to the man who limped her way.

"Ah, you're no fun, Y/N. Besides, those ladies are always so stuck up and nosy. I needed to escape even for a little bit. You have to admit, this is a good reason." Y/N softened, today was her mother's official 20th year passed away. The two always made a point of visiting her mother at least once a year on this day.

Y/N supported her father to her mother's grave, his dear wife's grave. Y/N always felt so bad, her mother passed away while she was in labor with her. The doctors and nurses simply couldn't do anything for her. She only hung on long enough to make sure that her baby was alive and sat before she tragically drew her last breath. A tear flooded into Y/N's eye, it was her fault that such a lovely woman passed away.

"Come on, Y/N. I know exactly what you're thinking right now. The last thing your mother would want you to do is believe that it was all your fault, that you were a mistake. It was a risk that your mother was willing to take, you have no idea how much she loved and cared for you when you were in her belly. Want to know something that she told me, right after she was told that she could either save herself or her baby?" Y/N was silent, tears slowly streaming down her face. She solemnly stared at the tiny stone, the only marking remembering her beautiful mother.

"Yes."

"She told me that you were her greatest accomplishment in life. You were the masterpiece in her life, the only regret your mother had was not being able to see you grow up into the fine woman you have become. You bet your persistent mom is surely watching you from above, smiling and guiding you, just in another form."

Y/N, not able to form a word, simply wrapped her arms around her father. She didn't deserve such amazing parents, even if one wasn't there for her life. She knew her mother was always looking over her.

"Let's get out of here, hm? Mom must be happy that we visited her, but she would be even happier if the two of us stayed safe and happy, right?"

Y/N smiled up at her father's sweet look, "Of course, father. I'll take you back to the infirmary."

Y/N's father grumbled sassily, saying something about those rotten nurses, which Y/N's quickly laughed at.

"They're there to help you, father. Not make your life miserable."

"Says the one who doesn't have to deal with those nagging ladies all day."

(Hmm, why are my eyes sweating?)

~~~

"Breakfast really is the best meal of the day." A male sighed, eating his usual. One hard-boiled egg, a glass of orange juice, and two slices of bread with strawberry jam. He gave a satisfied look to the two ladies in the corner of the room.

"You know, the bread has been amazing lately. Was there a change in the royal baker?" The Prince asked, the two ladies shifted uncomfortably, looking at one another for help. The prince shot a look at the two, weirded out by their odd behavior.

"Yoona, I would also like to know about the baker." The King said, voicing out his son's thoughts.

"U-Uh, well, I don't know the baker personally, may I go figure out for you, your majesty?" Yoona curtseyed to the King quickly rushing out of the room, leaving behind the other maid.

Yoona busted into the kitchen, panic written all over her form.

"WE HAVE A PROBLEM." Yoona screamed, bringing the whole cooking staff to a halt, alarmed by Yoona's exclamation.

"What's wrong, Yoona?" A cute looking girl walked over to the older girl, waiting for her response.

"Who's that baker you always buy from?"

Luna's eyebrows shot up, not expecting this, "From a father, now his daughter, that sell bread in the middle of my village. Her bread is the best, right? I bet the royals love it!" Luna gave Yoona a thumbs up, clearly excited. Yoona, on the other hand was a lot less impressed.

"Yeah, they love it. A little too much I dare say. They want to know who the royal baker is!" Yoona exclaimed once again, leaving everyone a little more nervous than before.

"Huh, yeah we don't have one of those." Luna said, rubbing her chin with her fingers. Yoona desperately wanted to slap her forehead at the girl's innocence.

"Yeah, no duh. What do we do?" Yoona hissed. Another cook came forward, being the head of the staff.

"Well, we have two options. We either tell the truth that we have just been buying from a village baker for a little while, or we fake it till we make it."

"So, it's either that we piss them off now, or we piss them off later..."

Yoona, Luna, and the head cook all looked at one another, making a clear decision. Luna sighed, "Huhh, fine. I'll come clean..."

~~~

It was now later in the day and Luna was nervously twiddling her fingers behind her back. She looked down at her maid's uniform, waiting for her demise.

"Luna, I don't remember you being a baker?" The Queen remarked, hearing that Luna came to announce the arrival of the royal baker.

Luna hummed, ready to make the big reveal, "Well, your Majesties, there is actually not currently  a royal baker." Silence effectively ensued. The King and Queen that were both sitting on their thrones were utterly confused.

"And how could that be, Luna? Who supplies that bakery items then?" The King said gently. Luna sighed.

"I've been buying from a small baker from my home village. It's the Heights District your majesties."

"Why didn't you just hire that baker, Luna? It's much easier than buying from this baker every day?"

The king and queen were taking this a lot better than Luna expected. She didn't want to even think about trying to persuade Y/N from leaving her father's bakery for the royal's kitchen. That task is virtually impossible, and that was Luna's specialty.

"Ah, well the bakers consist of only a father, who is currently in the hospital with a leg injury, and a daughter who has taken over. So-"

"How lovely! We can pay a lot more for her services here I bet. Miss Luna, please convince this amazing baker to come work for us!" The queen gleamed, Luna deadpanned inwardly. The queen was always... a bit of a ditz.

"She will be a bit hard to convince, though, you're majesties."

"Hmm, then bring my son. He is a very good persuader as you know. Now, run along. Hopefully I have good news by tomorrow." The king gave her a look, basically saying that this decision was final. Luna bit her bottom lip, but nodded nonetheless, waltzing out of the room.

She ran down the hallways, out to the expansive pastures behind the royal's castle.

"Your Highness!" Luna yelled, flailing her arms around like a mad man.

The prince, who was on horseback with his companion, quickly trotted over to the small girl, slightly frightening her.

"Is something wrong, Luna?" The prince questioned the girl who seemed like a little ant compared to him on horseback.

"Your parents ordered for me to take to you to my village to hire a baker."

The princes eyebrows raised, why was this his job to complete with a maid?

"It's a hopeless task for me. Your parents said to bring you along to maybe make the baker a part of the royal staff."

The prince sighed, the baker did bake some hella good bread. While he had a lot of questions, he shoved them down for now, trotting back over to his partner from before.

"Princess Mina, I have to depart early today. Sorry for the sudden interruption."

"But Prince-"

"Sorry." He said louder, stopping the princess who yaps like a chihuahua before she could even start. How could his parents even make him attempt to love this... desperate creature.

He quickly departed with Luna as soon as he could.

~~~

"Would you like to take the carriage your-"

"Let's walk, Luna. And besides, how many times do I have to tell you to address me by my name when we are in private?" The prince questioned with a playful smirk as the two finally set out on foot.

"But-"

"Luna." The prince growled.

"Fine... Jeno..."

The crowned prince, Jeno, gave her a fluffy smile, ruffling his hand through her hair. The two were close from a young age, but they also had to hide their close friendship from a young age as well. Once upon a time, Jeno had a large crush on the girl, but she viciously rejected it, saying that she only saw him as an older brother. While he thought he could win her over, he quickly gave in to her wishes as she was quite the stubborn girl.

"So, tell me about this baker, Luna."

Luna smirked, knowing how Jeno would react when he met the girl.

"Mmm, I'm not going to tell you." She said, causing Jeno to give her a deadly glare.

"You know who you're talking to, right?"

Luna shrugged, giving the boy an innocent look, "I thought you said we were friends when we were in private?"

Jeno quietly huffed, looking away, "Fair enough."

The two talked for their decently long journey, about this or that, about their childhood, anything.

"Man, you walk a long journey every day... Why don't you just live in the headquarters?" Jeno asked as they entered Luna's village.

"Ever heard of having a family?" She said, sarcasm dripping from her tone. Jeno rolled his eyes, "Hmm, okay then."

Luna saw Y/N's bakery sign up ahead, it's go time.

"Alright, we are here, Prince."

"I thought I told you-"

Luna ignored him, swinging the bakery's door open, the smell of bread smacking the prince in the face.

"Hello, Y/N! Are you here?" Luna called out as Jeno stepped into the small, but cozy shop behind the girl. He looked around, kind of confused why Luna called out a girl's name. He thought that the baker was supposed to be an older man, according to Luna at least.

"Ah, hello, Luna! You're never here around this time!" A beautiful voice called out, a youthful girl came out of nowhere, surprising Jeno.

Wow...

She's absolutely gorgeous...

Jeno's jaw dropped as he saw the girl fiddle around quickly with some equipment, taking pastries and bread out of a stone oven. Luna smirked, she knew this would happen. Y/N wasn't the village sweetheart for nothing.

Y/N finally turned around, swipping her hands over her floury apron. Her eyes widened when she saw the male standing next to Luna.

"You never told me that you had a boyfriend!" Y/N said joyfully, going on about how Luna was such a mystery. Jeno was so taken aback by her sheer beauty that he couldn't even say anything at the moment.

"Nice to meet you! I'm Y/N, the daughter of the baker who owns this place. He's currently unable to work, so I've been handling the place." Y/N offered her hand for a handshake, completely oblivious as to who Jeno was.

Luna paled as Jeno simply looked down at the baker's outstretched hand.

"A-Ah! No, Y/N!" Luna yanked the confused girl's hand away, giving a nervous glance toward Jeno.

"Well, we have come to explain something to you."

Y/N tilted her head, but complied.

"I just pulled out a batch of pastries, so why don't you two sit down for a little?"

Y/N brought the two to a small  wooden table among the few that they had there. There really wasn't enough space...

Jeno gave Luna a glare immediately after Y/N left.

"You didn't plan on telling me that the baker was a girl my age?" He hissed, keeping his eyes on Y/N to make sure that she wasn't close.

Luna smirked, sipping on the water that Y/N provided to the both of them, "What's the big deal? I thought you were courting Princess Mina right now?" Luna smiled, knowing she was getting on the boys nerves. He was about to retort when some pastries were set in front of the two.

The both looked up to see Y/N standing, staring at the two, probably waiting from them to start.

"Aren't you going to sit with us, Y/N?" Luna said, her features scrunching up.

"No, you two are my honorary customers, so I couldn't possibly sit with you."

Jeno's eyes widened, Luna nor Jeno brought money with them. He heard Y/N chuckle.

"You two aren't paying today, it's on me."

Jeno's heart melted, everything about her...

"Ahem." Luna interjected between Jeno and Y/N's little staring contest.

"So, first of all, bring a darn seat to sit in, Y/N." Luna said with full authority. Y/N sighed, giving in.

"I've noticed that you have been wondering what I do, right Y/N?"

Y/N nodded, full of enthusiasm.

"I work for the royal palace."

Y/N's eyes widened, "Wow, that's so cool, Luna!"

"But, I've been kind of feeding your bread and pastries to the royal family... without telling them it was yours.”

Y/N nodded, a frown forming on her lips, "Did they think it was good?" Luna gasped, thinking that Y/N was going to be furious after hearing the news. But she took it in the most ideal way possible.

Jeno was surprised by her lack of enthusiasm after hearing the news, it's not every day that someone in their kingdom had the honor of having their items or goods used by the royals. There were lines ready to get the royal's approval to gain attraction to their businesses.

Luna nodded, "Y-Yeah, so much in fact that the cooking staff had a panic attack because you are sorta technically the royal baker at this moment..."

Y/N's eyes widened, "You guys don't have a royal baker? How unfortunate... I'd be willing to continue to send my products to their highnesses." Y/N then smiled, directing her smile to Jeno.

Jeno blushed, he'd much rather she become his future wife instead...

"Hmm, the thing is that the king and queen personally requested that you become the royal baker, though..." Luna said, tentatively. Y/N was silent for a moment, Jeno nervously awaited her answer.

"It's an honor, but I'm going to have to politely decline.

~~~

Jeno sighed as he sat down for breakfast the very next morning. He saw that very same loaf of bread from the pretty baker in Luna's village.

Y/N.

Everything about her made Jeno's mind go crazy. She was polite, hard-working, kind, slightly quirky, and had a sweet personality. He so desperately wanted to get to know her, but that would be difficult as she was too difficult to sway when it came down to the decision. He wanted her here, but he also understood why she wanted to stay at her bakery.

Jeno sighed once again, chomping down on the bread freshly made this morning, oh how much he would rather see her face than the product from her hands.

"Son, is something bothering you?"

Jeno looked up to his father giving him a stern look, he straightened up from his slumped position by his food. He gave his father a look, "I'm fine, your highness."

"You look unwell, dear." His mother cooed, concerned for his well being. He was being so difficult just at the thought of the girl.

"You have an engagement with Princess Yeeun today, Son. You better freshen up so that she doesn't see you in your miserable state."

Jeno huffed, while he was fine with Yeeun, he really didn't see her as someone he would spend the rest of his life with. He hated the tradition of engagements and decided who would be best to continue the royal lineage. There were so many girls that wanted to marry him, but just did not take a liking to any of them.

Later in the day, after his 'date' with Yeeun, Jeno walked out into the rose garden, looking around at the blooming flowers. Y/N reminded him of these flowers, maybe if he ever saw her again he could escort her through the gardens one day.

"Prince."

Jeno looked up from his place in the garden, watching a smirking Luna walking his direction.

"What is it, Luna?" He said as she neared him.

"Thinking about a certain someone?" She said, poking some fun at him. He choked, not quite understanding what she could be on about.

"Luna, the only people I think about are my parents and my horse."

Luna rolled her eyes, looking down at the flower that Jeno was cupping in his hand. A gentle smile rose to her thin lips, "First of all, a horse is not a human. Secondly, I saw the way you oogled at Y/N, Jeno. You can't fool me."

"And so what, I'm never going to have her, so why even think about it?"

Luna sighed as she saw Jeno's face gradually go sour. A thought popped up in her mind.

"Why don't you invite her to the King's birthday party?"

Jeno shot his head up, eyes wide. He looked down at his petite friend.

"A-Ah well, I'm going to have to deal with all of my potential suitors, though..."

"So what? I know you could give her a dance. Besides, I'll take her for the rest of the night. You can mingle with all you're girls you want, but her presence will show you how dumb you are."

"How dumb I am?" He barked, causing Luna to chuckle, "Yeah, how dumb you are for not trying to get her. I know your parents are strict, but why not try to court her? At least get to know her. Your dumb face showed me that you fell in love with her immediately after she opened her mouth."

Jeno blushed, why could Luna always read him like a damn book. He thought he was so sly about it.

"I don't know, Luna."

"Well, I'll invite her then."

Jeno gave her a look, "You little snot..."

"All in your best interest, Prince. Besides, every single guy in town wants to court her, and she's coming to an age where her father is starting to ask her about marriage. I'd stomp out your competition before someone does actually whisk her feet off the ground. Just a fruit for thought, though. See you later, Jeno."

Luna turned around, waving to him lazily before departing. Jeno looked down, Luna always had these crazy ideas in her head, but maybe this time it would actually work out? Or it could cause a war between the neighboring kingdoms...

Just a fruit for thought, huh?

_____________________________________

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Hunnyuwu

^Jeno is a prince and no one can tell me otherwise:)

#lee jeno #nct imagines #nct x y/n #nct dream #nct jeno #jeno #jeno imagines #nct 127 #neowritingsnet #jaemin #na jaemin #nct x reader #jeno x y/n #nct jaemin

[yamithediaperdork]

Harry potter and the set of trigger words part 1 (..harry potter...duh.)

A odd fact not known to many, as it turned out your normal run of the mill wizard was actually quite easier to put under trance and implant key words even with only a basic knowledge of hypnotism.  This would be a fact Harry discovered to his delight having gotten interested in it over the course of a summer and trying it out for fun on the train ride to Hogwarts. Of course with him using it on his friend the triggers were just harmless ones, like every time Ron would hear a five sharp knocks on a door he'd bark like a dog, Or Hermione becoming a stereotype ditz if she was offered bubble gum till the flavor ran out. He also quickly removed said trigger once they got to the school and erased the memory of the act of them ever being in place. However, encouraged by the success of his little experiment, Harry would slowly work his way up with more and more amusing/twisted triggers on students he wasn't all that fond of till he came up with the perfect set for one blond haired prat: Draco Malfoy. Getting the blond twat monkey alone to work his mojo hadn't of been easy, but once it was done and Harry had removed the memory of the triggers even being place, it was time to sit back and have some fun.  Still Harry tried to at least be semi fair about it, and promised himself to only use his new found powers if Draco was being a true and utter pain in the backside. which, again, this was Draco we were talking about, only took all of a day from the planting.

"ugh, did somebody cut the cheese?" Draco asked, walking into the dinning area and moving pass Harry, Ron and Hermione. He paused and then leaned down, taking a over the top sniff of Ron and then held his nose. "oh guess not, it's just a weasley!" He said and laughed, prompting his two loyal thugs to laugh with him even if the dim look on their faces meant they didn't get the joke. "really? reduced to making fart jokes Draco?" Hermione asked and rolled her eyes, moving in a bit closer to Ron and then wrinkling her own nose. the red head had skipped a shower after practice that day and well, did smell a bit ripe. "Ha! See? even you think he stinks!" Draco crowed and hooted with laughter. "You know Draco, it's not nice to tease others. Ron will smell fine once he gets a shower in but YOU'LL always just be a 'dirty boy'" Harry said, sipping some pumpkin juice and smirking. "Really? thats the best..you..got..?" Draco scoffed back but suddenly he felt weird and found himself starting to pop a squat. "ah..what are you doing?" Crab asked. Draco went to answer with his mouth, but a blast of ass gas from his rear handled the reply for him and then as his thugs looked on in disbelief and Hermione and Ron and Harry looked on with amusement, the back of Draco's jeans started to puff out as a horrid stench filled the area. "Is he crapping himself?" Ron asked, laughing and pinching his nose shut. "N-No! I'm not a stinky baby pants pooper!" Draco whined and then even as he was clearly fighting himself, he popped his thumb into his mouth and started to suckle on it as he kept destroying the seat of his pants. "I guess Draco's jealous of Ron's stink and wants to top it~ 'Isn't that right baby Draco?'" Harry asked. Hermione was moving back to the other side of the table where the air was a little fresher but had to turn and watch in amusement as now only did the teary eyed blond nod his head up and down, helpless to refuse the command but he also lisped around his thumb making drool run down. "Yesh 'arry. Ous wight." Draco whimpered and as he finished with the back of his pants, he closed his eyes and relaxed his bladder soaking the front. "Gah watch it!" Ron cried up, jumping up on the table before the smelly puddle the blond was making could reach him. Crab and Goyle had like wise stepped back away from Draco in part to avoid the puddle and the smell and to avoid being seen as besties with the pants pooping dork. Harry had been about to unleash his next command but instead decided to call off the torment for the moment as a certain raven haired potions master was storming towards Draco and did NOT look pleased. "Head's up stinky boy, your uncles coming." Harry advised and leaned back, casually munching on a slice of pie. 'dinner and a show..never a dull moment at Hogwarts.' he thought. Sadly it wasn't much of a show as Snape just wordlessly took Draco by the ear and led him off, taking the time to turn around and use a spell to clean up the mess the blond had left behind. "heh, I'd like to be a fly on the wall for that conversation." Ron mused. "Which the smell coming off of him flies wouldn't look out of place either." Hermione giggled, and that set them all off laughing.

it wasn't till they were in the relative quiet of the dorm room (a glare from Snape had sent the few slytherin's who had been sitting in the common room scampering off) That Snape finally spoke up to the blushing and ashamed Draco. "I thought you were done with this childish behavior after we had that talk during the summer young man." Snape said. "I..I wasn't doing it on purpose! Someone muse of cursed me or something!" Draco whined pathetically. this couldn't of been worse for the blond, his body just betraying him like that after that summer while Uncle Snape had been visiting he'd caught Draco purposely soiling himself and bouncing in it! "Considering you've been with your friends all day and no one took out a wand in the dinning room, I think that's highly unlikely." Snape said dryly. "Do you remember what I told you before?" Draco started to full on bawl and rub at his eyes, which combined with his soiled garments made him look like a over sized toddler. "T-That if you caught me messing m-myself like a little boy again y-you'd dress me to fit the role.." Draco sobbed. "Please! I'm telling you, it wasn't on purpose! give me anther chance!!" "It's against my better judgement to do so..but I also don't wanna be the uncle of the only nappy lad waddling around the school. there will be NO more chances though young man, do I make myself clear?" Snape asked. If Draco hadn't of already let all of his wee out in the dinning room, he would of soaked his pants here at the tone of his uncles voice and hiccuped and nodded. "Oh for heavens sake.." Snape sighed and waved his wand, a oversized green soother popping into Draco's mouth and the poor lad found himself forced to suckle on it. he couldn't even seem to tug it out of his mouth and whimpered and pointed at it, looking at his Uncle. "It'll come out once you get cleaned up. and after you're clean, strait to bed. no supper for pants pooper's." Snape said and then walked over, leaving the confused and ashamed boy the less then pleasant task of cleaning up. 'I just know Potters behind this somehow..' Draco thought and due to the heavy load in his seat, he was forced to waddle to the bathroom to clean up. the only saving grace of everything was that Draco was so tiny downstairs his uncle had never been able to notice that despite how ashamed and humiliated he was, Draco was rock hard.

word of Draco's accident spread like wild fire though the school and even though the teachers tried to encourage a forgive and forget policy Draco had simply made too many enemies in the school and was forced to endure multiple taunts, and worse, well meaning teachers calling him up to their desks several times a class and asking if he needed to use the rest room. the consent teasing had a effect of making Draco keep his fat mouth shut for a change and true to his earlier self promise Harry left him alone, though lord knows he longed to test the rumor he'd heard that Snape was prepared to put Draco back in nappies should he have anther accident.

At dinner that evening Harry noticed that Draco was sitting alone, other students had bunched in together as close as possible just to avoid being near him 'in case he went off' again. Feeling a tiny bit of guilt Harry, after clearing it with Ron and Hermione, got up to go and invite the poor git to sit with them. Draco was munching slowly on a piece of bread, resting his head on a fist and staring off with a million mile stare when Harry got his attention. "Hey Draco, I wa-" Harry started but was cut off as Draco yelped and jumped, snapped out of his daze. this got more laughs from the other students and Draco fumed and blushed as he glared at harry. "What do YOU want?" he huffed. "I was wondering if you wanted to come over and sit with me and my friends..you look a little lonely." Harry said, forcing down the urge to make Draco disgrace himself. the blond HAD had a rough day after all. "Do you really think I've sunk THAT low I'll take your pity just like that potter?" Draco huffed and leaned forward. "I don't know how, but I know for a FACT that somehow you were behind what happened yesterday. So thank you, fuck you." and Draco tossed the rest of the bread in his hand at Harry's head. "BYE!" eye twitching Harry clenched a fist and for a second thought of taking a swing at the brat, but again cooler heads prevailed because to be honest, Draco had EVERY right to be pissed with Harry and was on the nose. Still, he couldn't just let that go away totally unpunished and snorted. "Fine whatever. 'Why don't you just sit her and sulk while you suck on your thumb!'" Harry said and turned to leave, knowing even without the laughter that started up that Draco had just started to nurse on his thumb like a pouty toddler. the thumb sucking command would only last for 5 minutes but it was enough to get even more laughter directed Draco's way and a look of disdain from Snape. by the time he was able to free his thumb for his needy mouth Draco would have a extra nick name to go with Potty pants Malfoy: Sucky baby Draco.

with what happened in the dining room proving to Draco for sure that Harry had SOME form of a hold over him, he had planned to go over all the books and scrolls available in the common room to try and figure it out. He was willing to pull a all nighter if that's what it took. However the other slytherin's had other plans. "oi, isn't it past little thumb suckers bed time? it's going on 7:30 after all." Crab asked, blocking his path to the book shelf and smirking. "Bugger off, you know I can keep later hours." Draco said and and went to move around him. "you know.." Pansy said in her smug voice. "I heard that if widdle Draco her makes anther mess in his undies, it's back to nappies for the wholllle year~" Draco gulped and paled a little, noting how Goyle was coming up behind him now and back stepped away for his clearly ex thugs and friends. "I..I mean..G-guys c-come on.." Draco whimpered, realizing just how out classed he was in a physical fight have like a doofus having forgot his wand in his room. "So it IS true!" Pansy said and let out a shrill laugh. "I think you should just get it over with BABY Draco. Snape's coming back any time now and can see you in all your smelly glory again." Crab chuckled. "I..Uh..I don't even have to.." Draco mewed and held up his hands. "oh, you need help  disgracing yourself? All you had to do was ask." Goyle said and unleashed a powerful gut punch that sent spit flying out of Draco's mouth and sank him down to his knees holding his gut, looking up at a sneering Goyle who added. "what are friends for?" the fear had been working his bladder like crazy and Draco had had maybe one too many drinks of milk at dinner because the force of the blow had his poor bladder unleash and for the second in for the second night in a row, he started to flood his pants. "Hahahaha the baby is wetting himself!" Pansy laughed then turned to see Snape standing there. "Professor! you're just in time! Draco wet himself! are you gonna put him in nappies now?" Draco was sniffling and tears welling up in his eyes as he turned to look at his uncle, who strolled over with a look of anger on his face and taking out his wand. "U-Uncle Snape Please I-" Draco started, but then Goyle, Pansy and Crab suddenly turned upside down and were floating in the air, "How utterly stupid do you three believe me to be to think that you could fool me like that?" Snape asked in a quiet voice full of rage. "even if I hadn't of been standing there and seen the last little bit of that, you really think I wouldn't of found the bruise?" he added and started to move his wand up and down shaking the three bullies and making them knock together before dropping them in a heap on the ground. "W-We're sorry!" Yelped Goyle, who was the first to scrabble to his feet. "Won't happen again!" Crab added getting up. "Totally hands off!" Pansy finished and got to her feet. "Oh no, you'll be hands on. If ANYONE else threatens Draco with physical violence, or worse..carries it out, it'll be YOU three I blame and come after. so it's in your best interest to make he stays relatively safe. That said, a little verbal humiliation will do him good, but Hand.Off. Do I make myself clear or do you need anther demonstration?" the three got the point and scrambled off and as Snape went to turn to Draco he got the soaked and smelly boy glomping his waist and whimpering out thanks, getting snot on him. "thank you thank you thank you!" '...I'm getting soft in my old age.' Snape thought dryly and ruffled the boys hair and then lead the way to the bathrooms to get him cleaned up.

[dollyreblogs]

The Royal Flush Gang never really kills people but when they do, they leave that up to Wildcard. After being adopted by the O'Rourke crime ring/Circus, Wildcard actually works as a tortuerer for his adoptive father to get information out of people and he's always ready to try out brand new torture methods and tactics. Like I said, Wildcard is the most violent of the Royal Flush Gang but he's also the most happiest one and does everything with a smile.

"Oooh, this is going to be so much fun! Well...For me, at least. Definetly not for you...So tell me, which should we start with? The face or maybe the kneecaps?...Wait, duh, why am I asking you? You're gagged! God, I'm such a ditz sometimes!"

"You're rambling again, Wildcard."

"Oh, am I? Sorry, Ten! But, hey, what can I say? I love the sound of my own voice-"

"And you're still doing it..."

#Wildcard #Dominic O'Rourke #The Royal Flush Gang

[sceptilemasterr]

MW Act 1, Scene 13 - Two-Faced

Title: Most Wanted: The Hollywood Killer (A CIU Screenplay)

Main Pairings: Dave x Sam

Other Pairings: N/A

Genre: Full Rewrite

Rating: PG-13 for violence, blood, swearing, alcohol, and sexuality

Summary: Sam, Dave, Rhea, and Reza visit Cheerm, only to find the owner isn’t home... or ARE they?

Previous Scene: Hitting the Beach

Masterlist: Link

INT. CHEERM APARTMENT COMPLEX - DAY

The four of them are standing in the lobby of a small, run-down apartment complex, in front of a call box. Dave scans the apartment listings as Sam taps her foot impatiently.

SAM: This is Cheerm? I thought it was a company.

REZA: For an internet startup, you never have to leave your home, y’know.  (dramatically) The real American Dream!

He pauses expectantly, but neither Sam nor Dave react. After a moment, Rhea lets out a small chuckle.

REZA: Thank you! At least someone around here appreciates me.

Dave finds the Cheerm listing, and buzzes up. A female voice answers.

JESSICA (V.O.): Cheerm HQ!

DAVE: My name’s Dave, I’m with the city. Do you mind if we could chat for a minute?

Sam frowns at him, clearly skeptical. Rhea and Reza exchange a glance. After a pause, the voice returns.

JESSICA (V.O.): Totes! No prob, just punch 2139 into the call box and come on up!

Sam raises an eyebrow. Dave shrugs.

SAM (sarcastically): Look at you, Prince Charming.

DAVE: What can I say? It works.

The elevator opens, and the four of them file in. As it ascends, Rhea attempts to make conversation.

RHEA (to Reza): So, you... uh... have you been out this way before?

REZA: Huh? Uh? Um, yeah, this place is... uh... it’s really... I’ve been here... one time, it’s nice, right?

Dave facepalms at Reza’s awkwardness. Before Rhea has the chance to respond, the doors slide open on the top floor, right across from a door marked ‘CHEERM’ in huge, bright lettering. Dave shrugs.

DAVE: They aren’t exactly subtle...

He knocks on the door. After a second, the door opens narrowly, and a young woman in workout clothes peers through the opening. This is JESSICA GREENE, though at this time we do not know her name. She smiles innocently at the group.

JESSICA: Hi there! Can I help you guys?

RHEA: We... um, or, uh, we’re... 

Dave steps in when he notices Rhea blushing and tripping over her words.

DAVE: I’m Detective Dave Reyes. This is my partner, Marshal Sam Massey, and my colleagues, Reza Fassihi and Rhea Sarkar. What’s your name?

In the background, Rhea does an excited shudder when Dave introduces her as a ‘colleague.’ Jessica smiles apologetically and shrugs.

JESSICA: I’m, uh... Monika. Duh. Sorry, I know I’m a total ditz, right? Did you need something?

Sam frowns.

SAM: Who would we talk to about this ‘Cheerm’ company?

JESSICA: Huh? Oh... yeah, that would be my brother, Chad. He and his friend Todd started this dumb company last year. I can totes give him a message if you wanna tell me what this is all about?

DAVE: The thing is, Monika...

He goes into ‘flirt mode,’ leaning against the door, lowering his voice, and gazing into ‘Monika’s’ eyes.

DAVE: Y’know... I could really use your help on this one. I’d owe you, big time.

JESSICA: Oh yeah? What would you owe me, Mr. Detective?

DAVE: I guess we’d have to find out.

Sam rolls her eyes at Dave’s ridiculous ‘flirt mode.’

SAM: You’re kidding me. This’ll never work...

JESSICA (giggles): Well, if you need to talk to Chad and Todd, they’re down on the beach right now for a brainstorming sesh!

Sam’s jaw drops. Dave smirks at her before continuing.

DAVE: Thanks, Monika. You’re a lifesaver!

RHEA: You’ve been everything!

JESSICA (confused): ...What?

RHEA: Oh my God that was so stupid! I meant to say ‘You’ve been a big help’ or ‘Thanks for everything’ but then I somehow mixed them up and said ‘You’ve been everything’ I’m such an idiot I’m so sorry!

JESSICA: Uh... okay. Thank you.

She forces a smile and closes the door. Rhea sighs and puts her head in her hands.

RHEA: I am so stupid!

REZA: Yeah. I know.

Rhea gives him a look. Reza blanches.

REZA: Wait, no, I didn’t mean- not like that! I just meant, I’m awkwardly stupid too, so I get it! Er, wait! No, I wasn’t calling you stupid! And... yeah, okay, I’ll stop now.

DAVE: I think you just proved your point.

REZA: Guess I’m forever doomed to stammer like an idiot around cute girls.

SAM (sighs): Can we just go find these brainstorming executives? Please?

DAVE: You go on ahead. I’ve got a hunch I want to follow up on.

SAM: Sure you do.

She and Reza head back toward the elevator. Rhea stays, glancing between Sam and Dave for a moment.

SAM: Paparazzi? You comin’?

RHEA: Not right now. I’ve... also got a hunch.

SAM (shrugs): Suit yourself.

The elevator dings, and Sam and Reza enter and descend. After a moment, Dave knocks on the door again. They wait several seconds, with no response.

RHEA: Maybe she... fell asleep?

DAVE: Not likely.

Dave knocks again, and waits for another long moment. Still, nothing happens.

RHEA: Are you, y’know, suspecting something?

DAVE: Possibly...

He draws his gun. Rhea gasps.

RHEA: Are you gonna need that?!

DAVE: Sure hope not.

Dave leans back, then slams his heel through the door. The lock splinters, and he sprints inside, followed a moment later by Rhea. Inside, the room is filled with several computers, routers, and other devices. Jessica stands up against one of the computer towers, holding a handheld device up to it.

DAVE: You! Stop!

Jessica hesitates at Dave’s voice for only a second, then returns to what she was doing. As Dave and Rhea watch, the computer monitor she is standing with winks out, dead. Rhea gasps in recognition.

RHEA: Oh my God, I know what that is! It’s one of those high-powered magnet things they use to erase computers!

DAVE: She’s erasing the evidence! (to Jessica) Stop, don’t do this!

JESSICA (tearfully): I have to! I have to run, or I’m dead!

RHEA: Wait! Please! I know how you feel!

JESSICA: Shut up! I don’t need a lecture from a cop!

As Jessica crosses to the next computer and starts holding the device up to it, Rhea approaches her, showing her empty hands.

DAVE: Rhea! No! You’re just-

RHEA: Look. Monika. I’m not a cop; I’m just a journalist. Barely out of college. A nobody, pretty much.

To Dave’s shock, Jessica actually hesitates, curious about what Rhea is going to say.

RHEA: I’m not-

Rhea pauses, taking a deep breath and quickly composing herself before continuing, more confidently this time.

RHEA: I’m not saying I know who you are. All I can say is that I know the kind of person you are; and that’s someone who knows what she can do. Nothing more; nothing less. I know what it’s like to feel like you’re overlooked, overshadowed.

JESSICA (hesitantly): I... I don’t know what you’re talking about.

RHEA: Let me take a guess. People take you for granted, don’t they? You can spend every day of your life doing everything for them behind the scenes, all the little inconvenient details that help their jobs to keep existing, and the simple “thank you” that you deserve... never comes. So you feel like you have to do something extreme. Because, you’re afraid that if you don’t, you’ll actually... truly... be alone, forever.

There is a long, drawn-out pause. Rhea and Jessica keep their gazes on each other, neither one willing to be the first to look away. Behind Rhea, Dave slowly lowers his pistol. After a moment or two, a single tear drips down the side of Jessica’s face, and she averts her gaze.

JESSICA: I... you... (sighs) It’s too late for me. I can’t change now.

Rhea shakes her head.

RHEA: No. It’s not too late. We can help you. It’s never too late.

Slowly, Jessica starts lowering the magnet, slumping to the floor. Rhea crosses over to her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. A few seconds later, Dave starts approaching the two of them. Jessica looks up at him, her eyes wet with tears.

JESSICA: I... please...

DAVE (gently): Look, you’re doing the right thing. You’ve made the right choice. But the things you did... you’re still going to have to pay the price. I’m sorry, but right now, I’m gonna need you to come-

To Dave and Rhea’s surprise, Jessica holds out her wrists toward Dave. Her expression has changed, a distinct look of fear now joining the sadness on her face.

JESSICA: I know. Please, Officer, let’s go. Now. Please!

Dave takes a step back, confused and suspicious at the strange request. Rhea looks at Jessica curiously.

RHEA: What is this? Some kind of trick?

Jessica starts shaking her head in frantic desperation.

JESSICA: No trick! I promise! Please, just take me back to the station. Lock me up for life if you have to, just get me away from here!

DAVE: Monika, explain. Now.

JESSICA: You don’t understand, there’s no time! You need to get me away from here, he’s-

With an ominous thud, the power to the building suddenly cuts out, plunging the room into darkness. Dave reflexively draws his pistol, aiming it at Jessica.

DAVE: What is this? What did you do?!

JESSICA (panicked): No! No, no, no... He’s here, you’re too late, he’s gonna kill me!

RHEA: Who?! Monika, what’s going on?

JESSICA: Gavin’s killer. John Tull.

Dave, his eyes still adjusting to the darkness, startles at her words, swiveling his stance around so he and his gun are now facing the entrance. Rhea tenses, backing herself and Jessica up against the wall.

JESSICA: He’s here to kill me.

_______________________

Next: Darkness

CIU Tag List: @brightpinkpeppercorn @endlesshero1122 @bbaba-yagaa @acidsugar0

MW Tag List: @griselda1121

#most wanted the hollywood killer #choices most wanted #choices stories you play #most wanted rewrite #ciu project #choices interconnected universe #fanfic #dave reyes #sam massey #reza fassihi #rhea sarkar #jessica greene #mwahaha cliffhanger #hmm seems to be a running theme in these ciu scripts #to have someone going by a fake name #first estela now jessica #wonder if this tradition will continue in the next one??? #also yes there was a stealth es reference in this chapter

[eternalsa2z]

Alphabet Piercings

"Ambrose! What is that in your nose?!?!?"

*CONFUSED* "Uh, like, a super cute nose ring?"

"Well duh! Did you take it from my special jewelry drawer?"

*EXCITED* "Yeah! I, like, looooved the cute little L-shaped earrings so, like, I decided to find something to, like, compliment it!"

*SIGH* "Goddess this is what I get for sharing the 'Ladylike' piercing cuz I wanted a more feminine boyfriend to shop with. Ambrose, do you remember which Alphabet Piercing you took?"

"Ummmm...I think it was D?" *GIGGLE* "Yeah cuz I like D!"

"Great, definitely a 'Ditz' piercing then based on your bubbliness. But that doesn't explain the extra horniness and the over-the-top glam look..."

"Hey baby if you like my nose ring, like, do you wanna see my other pretty piercings? I got these totes hawt little Os in my nipples that made me all, like, hawt and stylish."

*GASP* "Oh shit those could be Orange or Opulent piercings for this tanned fashionista look! Ambrose...please tell me you're not covering up more?"

*WRINKLES NOSE* "Please, like, Ambrose is so uuuugh. Call me Amber!"

"Okay, fine, Amber...did you do anything else?"

"Welllll I kinda got scared cuz, like, my little sexy bits were shrinking. So I acted fast and, like, put another L right into my clitty to, like, stop in from shrinking! It's, like, suuuuuuper small now and it makes me feel all hot and mushy, but it's still there! Yay!"

*GROAN* "Great. You put the 'Lust' piercing straight into your groin. That's gonna exacerbate the effects to an 11. But at least that explains everything. With those Alphabet Piercings all in, they combine and amplify to make you what they spell out. In this case, a bimbo DOLL"

*SQUEAL* "Oh yes! That's the word I was, like, looking for! Amber is, like, totes a doll! You, like, wanna go shopping with your dressup doll?"

#mtf #bimboification #magical transformation

[hzcleski]

hello friends! you probs know who i am already but if not hello! i’m sam aaand this is my newish muse! i played hal here for a minute one time but i’ve decided to give him a huuuuge revamp so character info is under the cut! lmk if you wanna plot! messaging me @ellvie​ is probably easiest!

╰☆╮ DYLAN O'BRIEN ─ HAL ZALESKI identifies as CIS MALE and uses HE/HIM pronouns. they’re a FORMER OLYMPIAN/NHL PLAYER, and they’re only TWENTY THREE ! they’re said to be CAPABLE, but also TURBULENT. i guess that’s why they’re known as THE LEGACY in the tabloids.

quick disclaimer that this is a sideblog so i might post to the wrong account sometimes

other disclaimer a lot of my hockey information is from google ok

nathan harold zaleski jr was practically born with a pair of skates on, which makes sense considering his family is hockey royalty. his father is nathan harold zaleski sr, aka a legend and one of the biggest names in sports to this very day. olympic gold medalist several times over, beloved longtime defenseman for the toronto maple leafs, at the very peak of his career and married to a beautiful wealthy socialite when his only child was born.

listen...this is an au where the maple leafs are good or like, had one genuinely good star player in nathan sr. okay thanks for coming to my ted talk!

he’s got dual citizenship because he was born in canada even though he hasn’t lived there since he was ten, but his parents were us citizens, which doesn’t seem important but WAIT FOR IT

nathan jr, who would begin going by the nickname of hal early on in life, probably learned how to skate before he even learned how to walk because of course he did. his father’s intention was always to have another him. i mean for fuck’s sake they have the exact same name. hal’s purpose in life has never been in question, not by him or anyone who’s ever seen him play.

his natural talent for hockey became apparent from a very young age, which didn’t surprise anyone ofc. his father saw it as a sign and began pushing him even harder, hiring the very best trainers and coaches to help perfect his game while nathan sr focused on his own career.

except that he was running out of steam and fast. nothing happened like there was no huge scandal or career ending injury. nathan sr was just...getting old. fans were simply losing interest in him as newer and younger players joined the league and there was nothing he could really do about it except make sure his legacy lived on.

hal was ten years old when everything seemed to finally fall apart. his dad was hanging on to the very last threads of his career, let go from the maple leafs and almost certainly picked up by the new york rangers purely out of pity. meanwhile, hal’s parents finally divorced which he took almost alarmingly well for a ten year old, but it’s not like his parents were ever a shining example of a deep, loving marriage. they spent years settling the divorce, fighting back and forth while suing the shit out of each other across whole fuckin countries. lowkey they almost wound up being more famous for the legal drama than they were for hockey.

hal’s dad finally retired when he was twelve, won sole custody of him when he was fourteen, and pulled enough strings to get him a spot on the canadian hockey team dual citizenship! going to the 2010 vancouver winter olympics when he was just a teenager, making him one of the youngest players to ever compete in the games.

and canada won gold that year so hal was making history again in no time, being one of the youngest players to ever become a gold medalist in the winter olympics. now he didn’t actually see a lot of playing time that year. his skill was undeniable, but no one seemed to think that he was ready for the big time rush. tbh they probably weren’t wrong, but nevertheless his name and his win made an impression on everyone.

up until that point hal was homeschooled bc ofc education came second to hockey, but he always wanted to attend an actual school and he did! after his first olympics his dad finally sent him to the same private school in the city as all the other rich kids and it was...weird! he started in the middle of the year and was instantly an outsider among his classmates. everyone else had known each other all their lives so hal immediately at a disadvantage. it didn’t help that he’d never really...had a single friend before. tbh his peers were probably intimidated by him. he was just a high schooler and already an olympic gold medalist like...ofc no one wanted to be the person to go approach him and say hi.

played for canada again dual citizenship! at the 2014 winter olympics in sochi when he was eighteen and this time HE WAS THE STAR. absolutely at the top of his game. anyone who still thought that he was a joke before the games started shut up real quick when he won his second gold medal.

he got home and was eventually drafted into the nhl, so he sorta ditched school oops. technically he finished but like...barely since he went back to being tutored for the last few months.

several teams wanted him and tried to throw a shit ton of money at him, but hal settled on the new york rangers with a huge multi million dollar deal

he quickly stole hearts on and off the ice. whether fans admired his skill or followed him during the olympics or remembered his father, for one reason or another he was winning people over left and right. unsurprisingly he’d go on to win the 2014-2015 rookie of the year award, presented to him by the president of the nhl and everything.

he did not attend the 2018 winter olympics in pyeongchang as the nhl famously refused to release their players. hal himself was a major part of the uproar. the whole country of canada dual citizenship! practically threw a fucking fit bc the nhl was disqualifying their star player from winning them their third gold medal in a row and hey big surprise...canada didn’t win gold in 2018 :)

hal’s in the middle of his fifth i think? year of pro hockey rn and so far his career has been solid. his dad is really pushing him to sign with a “better team” and he has gotten offers, but he isn’t really interested. he likes playing for new york & he likes living in new york. maybe someday....maybeeee....but for right now he’s happy with where he is.

okay now for some fast facts!

literally always looks like he just got into a fight, probably bc he just did during his last game. is usually sporting some injury like a black eye or split lip or cut cheek. fortunately hasn’t completely given in to the hockey player stereotype by getting all of his fuckin teeth knocked out...yet

notice that i hardly mentioned his mom? that about sums up their relationship tbh. hal was practically raised by nannies and trainers. his mom always had some brunch or gala or public appearance she was far more invested in. literally she didn’t even really...want custody of him when she divorced his dad, but she claimed to just to be petty and give nathan sr an even more difficult time. yeah they kinda hate each other now and since hal has always been closer to his dad, his mom isn’t even really that interested in seeing him lmao. she’ll call like once a month and invites him to brunch if she happens to be in the city, but ngl hal probably hasn’t seen her in like...a couple years at the least. he’s not really broken up about it either.

right so...walking talking endless pit of daddy issues? you bet! just because hal prefers his dad doesn’t mean that they get along or that his dad is a good person. he still has his perfect public image and he isn’t complete garbage but...yeah their relationship is extremely toxic. he’s always been very harsh with hal, pushing him and pushing him to be the best bc nothing he accomplishes is ever good enough.

so what if he's won two olympic gold medals? so what if he was rookie of the year? so what if he’s considered one of the best and most beloved players in the nhl? he can do more, he can be even better. his dad is a constant voice in his head even though he’s always around anyway. he never misses a game or an opportunity to point out hal’s every flaw.

ofc as a result hal’s always been very hard on himself. every single day of his entire life has been spent basing his self worth off what his father thinks of him. it was awful for his self esteem bc no fucking duh.

HOWEVER. it isn’t public knowledge at this time, but as of right now? hal’s relationship with his father is falling apart faster and faster by the moment. they’re a ticking time bomb & it’s literally only a matter of time before they explode yikes!

fortunately hal could sorta sense the direction things were heading and did something about it. he finally moved out when the hockey season started back in october and he’s been feeling better ever since. like he has more control over his life even though his dad is still WAY too involved.

personality: a douchebag who means no harm, mostly because he's never really trying to be a jerk. tends to come across as a typical meathead jock for good reason bc that’s exactly who he is. in conversation he's usually very blunt and a little awkward bc he’s still learning how to socialize with others. hockey is basically his whole life so it’s all he knows how to talk about, which can either be endearing or annoying. a genius hockey player, but a ditz in every other area. very short - tempered and impulsive. always means well and wants the best for those he cares about, but might go about expressing those feelings in a weird way bc he was never taught how to properly deal with his emotions.

CONNECTIONS

family

step sibling he grew up with - sabrina miller

paternal cousins - warren daily and wren daily

cousin by marriage - rosalind cox

maternal cousin - open. his mom is polish for reference!

romantic

girlfriend - genesis iver

ex fiancée - ginny baker

ex on good terms - margo massey

ex who cheated on him - isla thompson

former fwb - amethyst armenta, open to more.

former toxic on / off relationship - reese monroe

exes, open to more.

hal has a ton of other exes and i don’t feel like listing them tbh all so i’m just gonna assume that y’all know who you are ok

platonic

best friend 5ever - marialena goldstein

confidant - open.

family friends - sullivan ramsey, open to more.

childhood friends - open to more.

close friends - open to more.

friends - mia kauri, chance kauri, theo cannon, angel almeida, open to more.

bickering friends - open to more.

workout buddy - open.

negative

on bad terms - kennedy drakos, jay weston, open to more.

these are just a few plot ideas! i’m most definitely open to other stuff so if you have any ideas please free to share! i think that’s enough from me soooo yeah! mssg me if you wanna plot & as always i’m super excited to write with everyone!

#excessintro #toxic people tw #i'm not sure if that's tag buuuut yeah! #hope you enjoy feel free to message for plots!

[ofmorris-blog]

TARON EGERTON, 24, HE/HIM —— hey, did i just see MORRIS SFORZA walking around the block? i hear he lives in an APARTMENT down the block and he’s a TOWNSPERSON who is a MUSICIAN unti he moves out. he always looks like he’s hiding something…but he’s so FELICIFIC sometimes i wonder how he can be INSOUCIANT. he certainly can’t be hiding HOW HE'S ONE OF THE FEW PEOPLE AWARE OF SOMETHING THAT COULD TEAR APART A FAMILY, can he? [bloom, 17, she/her, gmt+1].

HI everyone! i’m bloom and this is morris. he’s a moron (so much. you have no idea) and he plays music sometimes. models sometimes. dances sometimes. a professional freelance disaster. isgfsf i’m sorry i’m rambling but there r details under the cut

morris was born in great britain. his biological parents disappeared (he doesn’t know or care why) but he was adopted by a lovely pair of italian brits. he considers himself britalian, and he’s an idiot, so he probably thinks britaly is a real thing. like, a real country. he’s from britaly. (when the shitty jake paul song became a viral meme, morris probably didn’t get why “england is my city” was so stupid. and he was born there. he also probably had no clue that milan [his adoptive parents’ home city in italy, and they visit there often] is part of italy for YEARS, so if you asked him if he’s been to italy, he’d go “no, i haven’t been”. | you, an intellectual: ain’t milan in italy? | morris: ????)

he’s so ditzy i don’t even know what to say fsdkgjfkj. he’s just. a ditz. he’s functioning and is literate and all that, but god, he’s so ditzy. like a male cher horowitz from clueless minus the actual lowkey intellect. (“‘rough winds do shake the darling buds of may, but thy eternal summer shall not fade.’ did you write that?” | morris: "duh, it's like a famous quote.” | “from where?” | morris: “cliffsnotes.” = actual dialogue of him wooing a girl in high school)

speaks with an accent and really good at music and dancing and also happens to be a part-time model bc he’s hot but he never commits to anything, ever. so he’s a ‘musician’ technically but he’s not committed to it. he has so many different jobs and gigs. it’s a way of like? rebelling against the ppl who give him shit because he’s gullible and... not academically inclined. like, you want him to get his shit together? now, watch him do the opposite of that! watch him make his life even more disorganised!

he’s generally pretty nice, though. when his bi ass is crushing on someone, maybe too nice. like, he’s proposed marriage to countless people probably, or hinted at proposing, only to start ghosting 1 week later. he’s a disaster, help him.

but he also gets in tons of fights. i don’t even know what to say at this point. have y’all seen that post where this guy was like “subway was so crowded i nearly fought someone” and his friend’s like “oh word u in nyc?” and guy 1 says “no i meant subway the sandwich shop” well he’s guy 1

this intro is a mess so i conclude it now by saying this tweet was probably about him

SOME WANTED CONNECTIONS

FRIENDS. i need a squad for him omg. someone pls give this man a squad.

uhhh romantic plots, you know the drill. perhaps a few people who hate him for being so capricious, having led to a catastrophic break-up or something. so much we could do with it!

enemies? i mean... maybe ur muse almost threw hands with him in subway, maybe it’s something deeper. i’m all ears.

OH and as for the secret in his secret, i was honestly in a hurry to send it because i was busy that day but my headcanon was it could be a secret within his own family. if some of you think he would be great as a secret-keeper for another family, tho, hmu w that!

thats all pls love us

#halstonintro

[theheroheart]

Donald? How come?

Donald having ADHD?

Well, this is mainly based on the (Barks/Rosa) comics, not Ducktales, but:

‘brilliant, but lazy’, ‘genius ditz’

bright and talented but can’t keep a job

goes hard into new job/hobby when it’s new and interesting, but then he eventually grows bored

loves/requires a lot of sleep, but also stimulation and excitement

temper problems - bad at emotional regulation

no patience, impulsive

easily distracted, until he hyperfixates on something

I mentioned my theory to my roommates and they both agreed with me.

One of them went as far as to go: “Well, duh. You didn’t have to say all of that. You could’ve just popped your head in here and said ‘Donald has ADHD’ and I would’ve gone OF COURSE HE HAS!!”

#donald duck #adhd headcanons #lostmyurl

[askthedespairkids]

Mansion Flashback: Doi Kurohiko

Doi: *Standing out on the balcony, overlooking the ruined Tokyo*

Sly: *Standing behind him* It’s crazy huh? Not too long ago this would’ve been a beautiful view.

Doi: Ah- *Looks back at Sly* Oh...it's just you. *Looks back at the view* Yeah, you're right. Though weirdly, I'm gonna miss this view...I'm grateful to be leaving with everyone...

Sly: We’re a truly lucky bunch.

Doi: We have Nagata-san. Probably not much else too it.

Sly: *He nods* He’s the reason we found this place.

Doi: Yeah...*Sighs and frowns* Sorry, I, uh...I don't mean to sound down...I was kind of hoping to share this final view with one of the girls. Leaving a scene like this feels like a waste....

Sly: One of the girls?

Doi: U-urr w-well, not one in particular...! *His face flushes* J-just that I've n-never been able to sh-share a romantic scene with a g-girl before a-and....*He stops himself, taking deep breaths*

Sly: .......That’s your concern......

Doi: D-don't judge me! I still care about the class! Th-though I wouldn't really be living up to my talent if I didn't care a little bit about romance opportunities. Ugh. *Leans on the balcony railing* ...I can already tell who likes who as well. Stupid talent loves reminding me I've got no chance...

Sly: Hmmm. What kind of girl do you like?

Doi: U-um...*He frowns, thinking*...I don't really think I have a 'type' of girl I like....

Sly: Well is there a girl in our class you’d say you like

Doi: That's part of the issue...I r-really like all of them...all f-for different reasons, th-they all...*His face goes bright red again* I can't even say anything about it to you! It's too embarrassing!

Sly: *He looks confused* That wasn’t the answer I was expecting. Kinda sounds desperate.

Doi: *His face grows serious before he starts mumbling to himself* That's right, being desperate can be a real turn off for girls, but am I really desperate or can I only ever see the positive parts of women so I never really find a reason to not fall for them? But if that were the case, then wouldn't that make me look like a player? Or a harem king? No, no, even if I have to looks and personality for one- ah! Is that narcissistic? If that were true, my anxiety wouldn't make sense....gah! Doi, you big idiot! *Headbutts the railing* Ow! *Holds his forehead*

Sly: Smooth move there Casanova. This is obviously a very serious topic to you.

Doi: Of course it is...they called me the Ultimate Romance Expert, but I've never been with anyone. It's like some cruel joke....

Sly: How does one even get a title like that?

Doi: Oh, um...a lot of people in my school would come to me for relationship advice. They apparently found what I said to be useful...s-so I started a small website where I gave people relationship advice...it wasn't huge, but it was apparently good enough for Hope's Peak.

Sly: Hmm and what was your family life like? Were they proud of this talent you had?

Doi: Yeah, they were.Though, they were surprised when I got the letter for Hope's Peak. Not that I really blame them.

Sly: No siblings?

Doi: No...I was an only child.

Sly: Anything weird?

Doi: Not that I can think of...my life has always been pretty normal...maybe I'm too boring...?

Sly: Yeah I was gonna say you sound like a normal kid. Besides the whole I like every girl the same thing it sounds like you just have some bad luck.

Doi: *Mumbles* Sometimes it feels like a curse...

Sly: Maybe you’d have more luck with men? Or who knows maybe you’ll meet somebody when we get to Future Foundation.

Doi: I doubt it...and I can only see men as friends or romantic rivals...at the very least I don't have to worry about Kamisaka-san, Yokozawa-san, Nagata-san, or Okanaya-san swooping in.

Sly: I’m a romantic rival?

Doi: Well, duh. Look at you.

Sly: .... *He looks at him confused*

Doi: ...oh my god, you're more oblivious than I thought...

Sly: I think you’re just paranoid.

Doi: I think you need to pay more attention, but whatever.

Sly: *He shrugs*

Doi: ...god I feel sorry for anyone that falls for you if you're this bad at noticing...

Sly: Bad at noticing?

Doi: The signs, dude. I mean I can't exactly tell you who because they would kill me, but I think everyone would agree they made it pretty obvious.

Sly: I haven’t had the time to notice “the signs”. My main focus has been keeping this mansion safe and maintaining our supplies.

Doi: ...right...everyone's been doing what they can to help the group. Even people that can't fight have been able to help a lot...gah! *slaps both his cheeks* this isn't the time for me to be getting down on myself!

Sly: So what’re you gonna do?

Doi: I dunno...

Sly: I’m sure you’ll figure out what you can do to be useful. Maybe even heroic. Some girls like the heroic type right?

Doi: I can't be a hero. I'm too much of a ditz. If I can't talk to a girl without doing something stupid then there's little chance I'll be a hero.

Sly: Anybody can be a hero

Doi: ...this isn't some shounen manga. It's not that easy.

Sly: Maybe back before the tragedy. But have you seen the world now? It doesn’t take a lot nowadays to be a hero to somebody.

Doi: Heh... Maybe you're right.

Sly: We’ll just have to see

Doi: Yeah... Ah! I totally forgot! I still need to finish packing up my stuff!

Sly: *He sighs* Don’t make us wait for you.

Doi: R-right! Thanks again, Sly-san!

Sly: Uh yeah. Sure.

Doi: Oh, and try to pay more attention from now on. It's not a good idea to keep people and their hearts waiting! *he runs off*

Sly: Hmph

#Sly #Doi Kurohiko #DR

[halloweenfor]

TV / Movie Costumes - Mean Girls Karen Smith I'm a Mouse, Duh! Costume

Theme Halloween Costumes

Mean Girls Costumes

OMG, KAREN…You can’t just ask someone why they’re a mouse!  Well, that might be what the other Plastics think, but we think that Karen should be able to ask anything that she likes.  When you’re the only nice one in a group of mean girls, there are a lot of things that you should be forgiven for!  Sure, the gal might seem a little ditzy, but that’s only because she’s so focused on developing her extra fifth sense for predicting the weather.  These are tough skills, folks!Plus, who of the rest of the Plastic crowd are so capable of blending into any scenario?  With that delightfully open mind (admittedly partly because it is just a little empty), Karen is not only willing to accept all sorts of different people but can become so many things, too!  How many psychic, weather-forecasting, rich, highschooler mice-girls can there be out there!?  Karen Smith is clearly one in a million.  DESIGN & DETAILSOur team of designers faced all the fugly troubles of the high school cliques in order to put together this perfect (and officially licensed) Mean Girls costume featuring everyone’s favorite Karen Smith’s “I’m a Mouse!” costume!  (How meta is that!?)  This exclusive look includes a black one-piece bodysuit covered by a super-short, thin-strap chiffon baby doll dress with a shiny ribbon belt.  The mouse ear headband is wrapped in gray fur with pink satin for the inner ear.  Folks might think you’re just a mouse, but when you quote Karen by saying, “I’m a mouse, duh,” all will immediately recognize you for the best of the Plastics!FIVE(?) COSTUMES IN ONE!Become a little bit of everything in one look!  Be one part mouse, one part Mean Girl, one part weather reporter, a dose of psychic ditz, and total adorable package when you gear up with this exclusive Mousey Karen look from Mean Girls.  

See Details & Get More Deals at: Best Halloween Costumes 2019 :: Shop

#OMGArray

[vamparamour]

🍰 + 🎩 + 🕐 for anyone! ur gay

I’m gonna go w/ Polnareff bc well, I’m gay!

🍰 - How good (or bad) of a cook/baker is your f/o? Do you cook/bake along with them? Do you like starting a food fight or would you rather keep it clean?

He’s french so he has to be duh?????? Jokes aside he is! Tbh he cooks more than I do bc I’m baby. I like to surprise him by baking macarons or cooking dinner a lot though!

🎩 - Is your f/o good at dancing? Do they have a favorite genre?

I feel like he is but I dance like a white dad at a fourth of july party so he’s gonna look ridiculous anyways if we dance together

🕐 - How quickly can your f/o get bored of whatever they’re currently working on? What do they do to entertain themselves? Or would they rather just continue working as usual?

The biggest difference between me and him is that he can hyperfocus Really Good and I’m a total ditz. However if he doesn’t have anything to do or any plans he will be so bored, so so bored, he will whine so much about how bored he is and I have to come rescue him from his boredom like the wonderful s/o I am

#ILY BABY #twdfag