#[Just in case don’t freak out at the tag

[checkeredflagggs]

Unsolved

Pairing: charles leclerc x podcaster!reader

summary: when charles admits to listening to unsolved, Ferrari take it upon themselves to play matchmaker

a/n: Hope everyone has a good 2025!

a/n2: I made up all of these murders and mysteries. My bad if they’re actually real

scuderiaferrari

liked by yourprivate, maxverstappen1, arthur_leclerc, and 3,138,723 others

scuderiaferrari: Carlos and Charles took the stage today to answer fans’ questions!

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user1: god do they look good

↳user2: i knnnnnoooowwwww

↳user1: gnawing at the bars of my enclosure right now ngl

user3: loved the little baking lesson that Carlos had going on there at one point

↳user4: god can we get charles to take notes???

↳arthur_leclerc: it wouldn’t help

↳charles_leclerc: stop lying! I can cook

↳arthur_leclerc: you can’t

↳user4: we saw that pasta video…unless you’ve gotten vastly better no you can’t

user5: my big surprise takeaway was that charles also listens to unsolved? He seems like that would be too scary for him tbh

↳user6: listen that man has been in Ferrari for years now

↳user6: listen to the horrors? No no no. He lives with them. He is them

↳user7: alrighty there Mr. Philosophy. Chill

user8: ok but did you see his blush when they asked why he liked unsolved?

↳user9: YES! I think the mans likes the podcaster, not the podcast!

↳user8: can you blame him? They’re hot af

user10: ok but i feel like this is the start of a meet cute? liked by charles_leclerc, yourprivate

↳user10: did??? Did Charles just like my comment???

↳arthur_leclerc: 😆😆😆😆

unsolved

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, maxverstappen1, and 724,293 others

unsolved: Let’s talk death and disappearances this month — three cases spread across 3 states and 3 decades that have never been solved that starts and ends in Boston! Lisa Miller, …more

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user11: chilling…

user12: ok but why do they match so well…did you just somehow connect these 3 murders?

user13: damn do the fbi need to hire you. liked by the fbi

↳user13: wait what???

maxverstappen1: good stuff 👍🏻

↳user14: what in the earth is this crossover???

↳user15: vroom vroom guys listen to murder mystery podcast??

↳charles_leclerc: NO. NO WE DONT

↳unsolved: shame 😞

↳charles_leclerc: no wait wait wait. I DO! They don’t.

↳pierregasly: 😂😂

↳user16: what in the world…

oscarpiastri: interesting, interesting…

↳charles_leclerc: SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

↳oscarpiastri: that’s no way to speak to your son…

↳user17: what is going on in the House of Commons???

↳unsolved: that’s what we would like to know as well…

↳charles_leclerc: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING IS HAPPENIGN!!

Private Emails

scuderiaferrari

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, unsolved, and 2,133,464 others

tagged: unsolved

scuderiaferrari: COTA here we come…with a mysterious guest!

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user18: OH MY GOD did they really invite the unsolved podcaster Charles has been not so secretly thirsting over???

↳user19: they did! I bet it’s gonna be a really interesting race…

charles_leclerc: we look forward to seeing you!

↳user20: how long did it take you to type that out and not completely freak??

↳arthur_leclerc: longer than you think possible!

this comment was deleted

↳carlossainz55: his face was redder then our cars

this comment was deleted

↳pierregasly: I was fielding panicked calls all day. You have no idea

this comment was deleted

↳maxverstappen1: I just took his phone and did it for him 😂

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user21: my fingers are crossed. I am sat. Please please please give us a good episode of unsolved with Charles and Carlos. You don’t understand my NEED for this to happen

↳user21: god I’m just imaging something like their prison episode from 2 years ago? Like spooky and creepy to the extreme!

↳user22: sorry but can you explain? I’m new to unsolved and am working backwards!

↳user21: of course! So about 2/2.5 years ago the unsolved crew camped out in a decommissioned prison with a ghost hunter group (I forgot their name sorry!)

↳user21: while the hunters were, you know, searching for ghosts, the unsolved crew were doing an in-depth study on all the creepy and dangerous murders that happened in the prison!

↳user21: it was a really fun crossover episode!

↳user22: oh! That’s so cool! And austion has some pretty haunted places — maybe they’ll do it again here!

unsolved has posted 3 stories

[COTA here I come!] [beautiful!] [The setting for tonight!]

user23 replied I’m so excited!

scuderiaferrari replied glad to see you on the way!

↳unsolved thanks for setting this up!

↳unsolved I’m very excited!

user24 replied oh my god that’s such a pretty photo!

user25 replied go get your man

↳unsolved whaat??

↳user25 oh my god you don’t know??

↳unsolved ???

↳user25 oh this is gonna be funny af

scuderiaferrari replied …you’ll have both our drivers back in one piece right??

↳unsolved of course!

charles_leclerc replied that’s…that’s where we are staying??

↳unsolved yup!

Bluesky

Bluesky

unsolved

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, sebastionvettel, maxverstappen1, and 1,231,122 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, scuderiaferrar, spiritsleuths

unsolved: only 1 driver was hurt in the making of this video and his name was…Jasper White! Thanks to scuderiaferrari for loaning us their drivers to make this amazing video that took a long look at some of the most haunting deaths in this local Austin landmark! And thanks to the Spirit Sleuths for helping us out last night!

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user26: spooky…

↳user27: it feels unreal that there were so many deaths in one place in such quick succession…

oscarpiastri: glad to see you made it though the night

↳charles_leclerc: of course I did! There was no problems whatsoever

↳unsolved: I’m pretty sure I have a couple of hours of video that show you screaming and clutching at me to prove that wrong…

↳charles_leclerc: you don’t ☺️☺️☺️

↳maxverstappen1: ohhh share?

↳unsolved: that’s no footage I guess

↳pierregasly: shame

↳charles_leclerc: thank you 😊

↳user19: hmmmmm user53??

↳user53: i see it. I see it

arthur_leclerc: ok but how many drivers were screaming???

↳unsolved: all of them!

↳charles_leclerc: no! Just 1 🥹🥹

↳unsolved: sorry just one!

↳carlossainz55: compañero?

↳charles_leclerc: just 1!!!

↳unsolved: sorry 🤗

↳user19: hmmmmm

↳user53: adding it to the folder now

user28: that was such a fun episode!

↳spiritsleuths: just wait for our cut of the night!

↳user28: I’m sitting. I’m sat. I’m ready.

sebastionvettel: never thought I’d see the day after that incident in 2019

↳landonorris: share!

↳oscarpiastri: don’t you mean the inchident

↳maxverstappen1: another inchident??

↳carlossainz55: it was for a love interest

this comment was deleted

↳charles_leclerc: this time it won’t be just an inchident

scuderiaferrari

liked by yourprivate, charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and 2,293,124 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

scuderiaferrari: And that’s our COTA winner Charles Leclerc!

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yourprivate: Where's the trophy? He just comes running over to me

↳charles_leclerc: who are we to fight the alchemy?

user29: man he moves fast

↳charles_leclerc: very fast!

↳charles_leclerc: not letting this chance escape me!

↳user29: oh my god im so jealous right now

↳yourprivate: 🤭🤭🤭

carlossainz55: congrats mate!

↳charles_leclerc: you too!

↳charles_leclerc: for both reasons!!

↳carlossainz55: shush!

↳user30: oh??? user19, user53???

↳user19: …I’m on it

↳user53: I’ll start the coffee

↳user31: COFFEE??!?? ARE YOU GUYS TOGETHER???????

↳user53:WHAT NO? AHAT? SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

↳user19: I DONT KNOW AHAT YOURE TAKKING ABOU AHAHAHA

↳user32: user19 user53 act normal challenge — failed

pierregasly: thank god. Now stop texting me asking how to ask them out

↳charles_leclerc: stop. talking.

↳yourprivate: awww were you nervous?

↳pierregasly: if nervous includes texting me over 200 times in an hour with different pick up lines and selfies asking how his hair and outfit looked?

↳pierregasly: yes

↳charles_leclerc: im going to run you over 😄

↳scuderiaferrari: you can’t actually say that Charles!

↳charles_leclerc: for legal reasons this was (not) a joke

↳charles_leclerc: 😁😁😁

↳pierregasly: …I don’t like that emoji calmar

↳charles_leclerc: 😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁

user33: the way he sprinted over to her…

↳user34: I have NEVER been so jealous as I am right now

↳yourprivate: ehehehehehe

↳user34: ok no need to rub it our faces

↳yourprivate: why wouldn’t I?

↳charles_leclerc: 🥰🥰🥰🥰

↳yourprivate: 😘😘😘😘❤️❤️❤️❤️

↳user34: right in front of my salad???

user35: wow that highway is calling my name tonight…

↳user36: sleepover!

[grimmsbride]

▒ ❀ ̭͡⠀ ❛ SOME ENCOURAGEMENT. NAM-GYU / PLAYER 124

nam-gyu attempts to recruit beloved, timid reader into thanos’s world. all it takes is a little encouragement.

𖥔 ࣪˖ TAGS, nam-gyu is a little pushy (but everything is consensual between him and reader) | unconsensual voyuerism (again everyone is asleep but i don’t wanna make anyone uncomfortable) | ooc characters (first time writing for nam-gyu) | minor degradation & praise (+humiliation(?)) | use of the words slut, good girl, etc. | fingering | minor dacryphilia | just a silly little imagine | nam-gyu is lowkey manipulative | reader is a freak with a thing for fingers/hands | etc.

𖥔 ࣪˖ NOTES, writing smut on company time is actually hilarious, idk why i got this idea during work. but anywho — i hope you enjoy, i tried my hand at his character. as always please ignore any grammar mistakes or typos.

Imagine Nam-Gyu attempting to recruit someone without the advice of his beloved purple-haired leader. Surprising, right? Despite his own issues with inferiority; the ex-club worker just seems to follow behind Thanos like a hungry puppy desperate for a bone— or drugs, for that matter. But no, just this once, Nam-Gyu takes the lead. The numbers are growing closer and even more scarce, fear lacing people’s minds and causing them to hit that dreaded X button. Thanos’s World’s dream is to continue the games to pay off their debts, right?— so it only made sense for Nam-Gyu to turn an X over to the O side.

He couldn’t just pick anyone. Someone far too strong-willed would definitely tell him no, and someone far too weak would just be a curse rather than a blessing.

Who to choose.. Who to choose..

Soon enough the man’s eyes are locking on to you— a contestant he has seen around, yet hasn’t heard much from. Not only were you easy on the eyes but you just seemed like the perfect person to shape into a worthy teammate.

Within minutes he’s approaching you, an easy-going smile in place as your name falls from his lips. Nam-Gyu had heard it said before by someone close to you, another random that he hadn’t bother to think about.

“Yes..?” Your words are slow, lips pursing as you take in the man before you. You were beyond nervous; this was the lackey of that purple-haired lunatic after all. Watching the two fight on the very first day was enough to tell you to avoid them at all costs. Yet here you were, a few feet away from one of them, under his gaze that trailed over you like a pretty piece of jewelry behind a display case.

You couldn’t help but bring your hands closer to yourself, teeth dragging across your cheek nervously.

From your head to your toes, Nam-Gyu’s eyes soon landed on that big red patch residing just under your bosom. With a breathy chuckle he reached over, allowing a single finger to press and trace the X.

“You wanna get out of the games that bad, huh? You voted X twice already.”

Your eyes flicked down to his hand, before traveling back to his face. “Yeah well..” You dragged slowly, watching that harsh gaze return to your features.

“I—I want to get rid of my debts.. but putting my life on the line for it just seems..” You hoped you got your words across perfectly, even without continuing your sentence. Sure, it was hard being hounded for your debts, but death looming over your head just didn’t seem worth it.

Still, Nam-Gyu only shook his head at you, a sigh full of pity escaping his lips.

“Well, that’s where you’re messing up.” Nam-Gyu hummed, stepping just a bit closer, finger still tracing that damned patch. Your attention kept flicking between his face and finger, wondering why exactly warmth was pooling throughout your entire body.

“Worrying too much about dying is what’s gonna get you killed, not anything else.”

Your eyebrows knitted close, a look of confusion plastered across your face. Worrying seemed like the right way to keep yourself alive.. right? Not worrying just seemed, well— stupid. Not that you would say that to his face, obviously.

“I have to disagree..”

Just barely did you hear the sound of the man sucking his teeth, watching the way his face turned to the side, clearly searching for his next few words. You debated on walking away from this conversation, it was clear what his objective was. And whether ordered by Thanos or not, you didn’t really want to know— nor figure out.

Yet for some reason you were practically glued to the spot, blinking up at him and waiting oh, so patiently for his next spiel. And as you watched his face turn back to you, your breath got caught in your throat.

“Okay then.. worry all you want, but you wouldn’t you want someone to look out for you?” Nam-Gyu’s other hand was reaching to your patch at this point, using both thumbs to trace it. “Being on this side, there’s no unity.. it’s every person for themself.”

The two of you locked eyes, a sickeningly sweet smile crossing his face.

“Come with us, and we’ll look after you. I’ll personally see to it too.”

Slowly did your teeth sink into your bottom lip, struggling to maintain the eye contact that he seemed so keen on keeping. The only thing you could hear was your racing heart and the gentle sounds of his thumbs sliding across that red patch. His words were.. tempting. You wondered if he rehearsed what to say, like a video game with multiple endings; did he have it all figured out before he even walked over? Was he so prepared to convert you, using every rejection you had as some silly obstacles the man easily hobbled over?

So caught up in your thoughts, you hardly realized Nam-Gyu had gotten even closer until his breath fanned across your ear in a simple;

I’ll let you think it over, let’s talk again later..

When you thought of later, you initially believed in thirty mins or so. Maybe this time he would bring over his beloved leader to really get the point across. But no, later seemed to be during lights out; when you all should be sleeping, tucked away in the rare bliss these murderous games brought.

And the only talking that was happening was the soft words Nam-Gyu continued to whisper into your ear and the even softer moans of passion that slipped from your swollen lips.

See, Nam-Gyu wasn’t an idiot despite what Thanos seems to think. Quickly he caught on to two things whilst speaking to you.

The first being, you were quite cute when nervous. And two, you just loved looking at his hands.

So what better way to really stretch his point across but using his beloved fingers to stretch you open just how he liked?

“Should have done this from the start, look how cooperative you’re being..” The smile on Nam-Gyu’s face was permanent at this point, the corner of his mouth twitching with each pitiful moan you released. His rings were tossed lazily to the side, his bare fingers now pushing into your sloppy cunt so perfectly. Longer then your own, they pushed and prodded; opening you up and rubbing against your soaked walls. With each breath you were clenching, causing the smile on his face to only grow deeper.

“Scared of dying but not of some stranger finger-fucking you, huh? What a joke.”

You wanted to tell him off, how he was so mean and so wrong. But you couldn’t, not with how your mind was getting complete lost from his movements. Your teeth were grinding into your bottom lip, a metallic taste filling your mouth as time progressed. Deep moans thundered from your throat, muffled by your harsh biting. You couldn’t imagine having your little recruitment interrupted by some poor contestant just trying to get some rest.

But with the way Nam-Gyu was practically ruining you, it didn’t seem he cared much either way. He was so hellbent on coaxing you, his lips right against your ear as that damned thumb came and circled your swollen bud.

“I told you I’d look after you right, where’s my thank you?”

Your eyes widened the moment his free hand rose, pushing at your cheeks and basically forcing your lips to part. The sound you let out was a strangled mix of a moan and gasp, quickly clasping your own hand against your mouth.

Nam-Gyu chuckled on his breath, thrusting a third finger into your wet cunt as he spoke; “What? You scared of the other contestants realizing how much of a slut you are? Shouldn’t worry too much; this messy cunt is making enough noise for you.”

Your eyes were meeting the back of your skull, so fucking mean he was— yet you couldn’t help but enjoy the attention. His digits were curling inside, brushing across that special spot that caused you to shake. Your thighs were clenching harshly around his arm, rushed breaths escaping as your chest rose and fell.

“Th—thank you.. fuck— please…!” You whimpered as softly as you possibly could, glossy eyes staring up at the man. You felt accomplished the moment he drew closer, feeling the cold metal of his chain brush against your heated skin before a gentle kiss was pressed right against your cheek.

“What a good girl.. You wanna come, hm?” The hand was lowering to your throat, fingers simply wrapping around it yet not squeezing. Nam-Gyu watched in pure enjoyment at the way your head tossed back and forth in a rushed nod; how needy you were for him. What a palpable little thing, is what he thought.

“I can make that happen, you just gotta do something for me.”

More words, whispered, tempting; drifting right into your ear and hitting the same pleasurable spots right between your legs. Speaking of, you felt your peak drawing closer; a tight band resting deep in your tummy— ready to burst.

You knew what he wanted, you weren’t an idiot nor were you too fucked out to forget. Your mind was screaming at you, telling you an orgasm wasn’t worth pressing that cursed button.

Yet, for now, you weren’t thinking with your brain, but with your pussy instead.

“P—please let me join! I’ll press the button— I promise!” Another whisper-yell escaped you, desperation clinging to every word as they fled those pretty lips.

With that final confirmation Nam-Gyu was quickening the pace of his fingers, eating up the way your body convulsed, a lost look invading your eyes as you came undone. Your essence trickled down his fingers all the way to his wrist, a sticky residue that he would make sure you clean up later.

For now.. his hand rose from your throat to instead cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb right under your eye so tenderly— so sweetly.

“I knew you could do it.. just needed some encouragement, right?”

[springtyme]

Hey there. I love your Spencer Reid stories and was hoping I could request something.

Just something fluffy about day to day life with Spencer and a Diabetic female reader. I imagine he does lots of research, keeps snacks and juices in his desk at work ,for her lows. How does he react when her low sugar alarms go off at night? When she's so sorry for waking him, when he already gets to bed early in the mornings and only gets a few hours to sleep. Does he first mistake her insulin for "something else", and freaks out thinking she's a user?( I Had a boyfriend think that once).

I know this is a lot of an ask and it's okay if you don't write it. But I can't find any Diabetic reader fics anywhere and it'd be super cool if you could do one.

You can message me if you need info on life with diabetes.

𝐋𝐨𝐰 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 ♡

Thank you for the request, hun. I tried to do my best to do as much research as I could, so I hope this is okay. But if I have gotten something wrong, please feel free to let me know <3

Spencer Reid x f!reader || Masterlist || Spencer playlist

summary: Spencer takes care of you when you wake in the middle of the night to the sound of your glucose monitor.

word count: 2.0k

tags: Fluff. Comfort. Diabetic reader. Eating. Brief mentioning of reader being scared of feeling like a burden.

You toss and turn in bed, the familiar feeling of dizziness creeping in as you start to come to. The soft beeping of your glucose monitor cuts through the quiet of the night, its persistent alarm pulling you from the depths of your dreams. You blink rapidly, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep, but your heart sinks as you realize what the sound means.

Low blood sugar.

Sitting up slowly, you take a moment to gather your senses and find your bearings. You glance over to see Spencer’s silhouette beside you. He always looks so peaceful when he sleeps, wavy locks of brown hair softly tousled against the pillow, his lips slightly parted in a way that makes your heart ache with affection, but he begins to stir next to you. Guilt floods your chest for waking him, knowing he sacrifices so much of his sleep already for his work with the BAU, often staying up late thinking about cases or preparing for the next day’s challenges or having to pull all-nighters when cases demand it.

You fumble for the monitor, desperate to silence the alarm before it disturbs the tranquility of the night any further, but it’s too late. Spencer stirs more, his brow furrowing as he blinks awake, his eyes adjusting to the low light with a hint of confusion.

He murmurs your name, his voice thick with sleep, his voice laced with a groggy confusion and concern.

“I’m so sorry,” you rush out, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just—”

“Don’t apologize,” he interrupts gently, propping himself up on one elbow. His concern is palpable as he studies your face, and you can see the worry etched in the lines of his features. “How low is it?”

You glance at the screen of the monitor and wince, your heart sinking further at the number displayed. “I’m at 60. I just need a snack.”

His eyes widen slightly, and without another word, he swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands. You can’t help but admire the way he moves, even in his sleepy state. “Stay here,” he says, his voice firm yet soft, a request that you can’t help but obey, though you do feel a slight sense of guilt for waking him up and now getting him out of bed. “I’ll get you something.”

You watch as he leaves the bedroom and pads down the hallway, the sound of his bare feet against the hardwood floor grounding you in the moment. As he disappears from view, you pull your knees to your chest, feeling an overwhelming mix of embarrassment and gratitude. You know he needs his sleep—he’s been working so hard lately—but the way he cares for you, despite the toll it takes on him, makes your heart swell with a warmth you can’t quite describe.

A moment later, he returns with a glass of juice and a granola bar, a sleepy smile lighting up his face that makes your already fast beating heart flutter. “Here you go, ” he says, holding out the glass of juice for you, his eyes sparkling with affection.

“Spencer, you didn’t have to—”

“Yes, I did. Please stop saying that,” he interrupts again, his voice a soft  plea which instantly makes you feel lighter. “And I want to, so don’t worry about it.”

You take the glass from him, your fingers brushing against his as you do, sending a small thrill through you. “Still… I’m really sorry for waking you up,” you say softly, your voice filled with sincerity. “You work so hard, and you need your rest.”

He shakes his head, his expression turning serious as he leans in closer. “You’re my priority. I’d rather be awake helping you than asleep worrying about you.”

You sip the juice, feeling the sweetness flood your system like a warm embrace, and you can’t help but smile at him, the corners of your mouth lifting despite the earlier panic. “You really are the best.”

“Just doing my job,” he replies, but the warmth in his eyes tells you how much he means it, how deeply he cares.

As you finish your juice he takes the glass from you to set it on his bedside side table before he sits himself down beside you on the bed, propping his pillow against the headboard and leaning back, his eyes still fixed on you with an unwavering concern. He reaches out, prompting you to come closer, his hand open and inviting.

You move closer, shifting to sit beside him, leaning against his side as he drapes his arm around you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. His presence is a comforting weight against your side, his fingers lingering against your skin, sending a soft shiver down your spine. “How are you feeling now?” he asks, his voice low and soothing.

“Better,” you admit, the dizziness fading as the fruit sugar kicks in, your body slowly returning to normal. “Thank you for being so amazing.”

He chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling with affection that makes your heart flutter. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He pulls you closer against his side, and you nestle against him, feeling the comforting warmth of his body seep into your bones. You can’t help but close your eyes, letting the safety of his presence wash over you like a soothing balm, the gentle rhythm of his breathing lulling you further into relaxation as you wait for your blood sugar to go back to normal. 

“You can go back to sleep, if you want. You must be exhausted,” you say, though you don’t move away from his side. The warmth of his body feels too good, too safe, to leave even for a moment.

“I’m alright,” he replies, his voice a soft murmur, brushing against your ear like a gentle caress as he adjusts his hold on you, pulling you even closer. “I’d rather be here with you than trying to fall back asleep and worrying about you,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment that feels infinite. 

You smile to yourself, feeling cherished and safe in his embrace. “You really don’t have to.”

“I want to,” he insists, his voice steady and calm, unwavering in its sincerity. “I’ll always want to.”

The sincerity in his words wraps around you, warming you up from the inside. You breathe in the soothing scent of his skin, a mix of his shampoo and something uniquely him, and it brings you a sense of all encompassing peace you didn’t realize you needed. You let his words linger in the air around you for a moment before you break the silence, letting his sentiment absorb within you. 

“Spencer,” you finally whisper, the weight of the night’s events still lingering in your mind, “promise me that if I ever wake you up like this in the future, and it does bother you, you’ll tell me,” you say, a hint of vulnerability in your tone. “I don’t want to feel guilty for needing you.”

He shifts slightly, tilting your chin up with his finger so you can meet his gaze. The warmth and sincerity in his eyes make your heart flutter again, pushing the remnants of guilt away.

“I can’t promise that I won’t be a little groggy,” he says, his voice low and steady. “But I can promise you will never bother me  for needing help. That’s what I’m here for.”

You nod slowly, feeling the tension in your chest ease just a bit. “I appreciate that,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… I would hate to be a burden. ”

“But you’re not,” he says firmly, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes you feel seen. “You’re not a burden. You’re my partner, and that means I’ll always be here for you, no matter the hour. It’s just part of loving someone.”

You let out a soft sigh, both relieved and grateful. “You make it sound so easy.”

He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through you. “But it is easy. I love you.” He says it so matter of factly that it sends a rush of warmth through your chest. The simplicity of his declaration feels monumental than than any grand gesture could ever be. 

You feel your cheeks warm at his words, the moment between you and Spencer vibrates through you, it feels all consuming in a way that leaves you momentarily breathless. “I love you too,” you reply, your voice a little shaky as you nuzzle your face into his shoulder, closing your eyes as you let yourself fully sink into the moment and let the weight of the world outside fade away for a bit.

Minutes pass in peaceful silence, the only sound being the soft hum of the night and the quiet rhythm of your breathing. You can feel Spencer’s heart beating steadily beside you, a calm and reassuring presence. You drift into a peaceful state of half slumber, your mind finding a place of ease. Every now and then, you feel Spencer’s fingers gently tracing small patterns on your arm, grounding you in the moment until his voice finally breaks through the silence. 

“I think it’s time to check your blood sugar again,” he says softly, his tone gentle but filled with care. “Make sure you’re back to normal.”

You nod slightly, still nestled against him, reluctant to break the comfort of the moment. “Yeah” you murmur, your voice thick with sleepiness.

Spencer shifts away just enough to reach for your monitor. As he checks the reading, you watch him, noting the way his brow furrows in concentration, an expression you’ve come to recognize as his deep-seated need to ensure your well-being.

He glances back at you, a slight smile breaking through the concern. “You’re at 85. Just a little lower than your target, but still good.” He takes the granola bar from the bedside table and hands it to you, his eyes still filled with warmth and encouragement. “Finish this, and I’ll feel a lot better.”

You take the granola bar, feeling a swell of appreciation for his attentiveness. “Thank you,” you say, your voice soft as you unwrap it and take a small bite. The chewy texture and nutty flavor is comforting on your tongue. As you chew, you watch him, unable to suppress the smile that spreads across your face. He’s still watching you, his gaze a mix of concern and affection, and it makes your heart race. “What?” you ask playfully, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Just admiring you,” he replies, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re really beautiful.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the blush that creeps up your cheeks. “Spencer, it’s 3 AM, and I just woke you up because of a blood sugar emergency. I don’t think ‘beautiful’ is the first word that comes to mind.”

He just shrugs his shoulders, a sweet, almost shy smile playing on his lips. “For me it is,” he insists, his voice steady, and the earnestness in his eyes makes you melt a little inside.

You finish the granola bar, feeling a little more energized. “You really are the sweetest.”

Spencer just shrugs again, holding out his hand so you can hand over the now empty granola bar wrapper to discharge it next to the empty juice glass. As the two of you lay back down on the mattress, Spencer instinctively wraps his arm around you once more, pulling you close. The warmth of his body envelops you, and you can’t help but let out a contented sigh.

“Are you feeling better?” he asks, his voice still a soft murmur, the concern never quite leaving his tone.

“Yeah,” you reply, a smile spreading across your face. 

“Good,” he says, his eyes sparkling with relief. 

You nod, feeling the weight of the night sink in, wrapping around your heart like a warm blanket, leaving only the two of you in your little bubble of comfort.

As your eyes flutter closed once more, Spencer kisses the top of your head gently, his lips lingering there for a moment. “Get some sleep,” he whispers, his voice a soothing balm that sends you drifting back toward dreamland. With a final squeeze of his hand, you nestle deeper into his embrace, feeling cherished and safe as you slip back into slumber.

[thedndgoblinwholivesinyourwalls]

hmmmm

[dollishmehrayan]

BATBOYS TOXIC TRAITS / RED FLAGS + GREEN FLAGS ── .✦

a/n: the thing is, they all aren’t like problematic when it comes to relationships but they do have some things and flaws which when heard sound “oh okay that’s fine” but may be like super annoying in a irl relationship also this was a request by anon (here)! (Tags: batboys x reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Chronic People-Pleaser: Will prioritize everyone’s needs over his own (or yours), leading to burnout… and you having to remind him you exist.

Flirty by Nature: He’s not trying to flirt… it just happens. That waitress? Nope, not on purpose, but yeah, you’ll roll your eyes a lot.

Hero Complex: He always has to “save” people, including you, even when you’re perfectly fine handling it yourself. “I got it, babe.” No, you don’t, Dick.

GREEN FLAGS:

Emotionally Intelligent: He can read your mood like a book and knows exactly how to make you smile (with pancakes shaped like hearts).

Physical Affection Expert: Hugs, cuddles, forehead kisses—you’re basically his personal teddy bear.

Supportive King: He’s your biggest cheerleader, hyping you up in the most genuine, heartfelt ways. “That’s my girl.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Anger Issues: He’ll throw hands for you at the slightest provocation. Guy looks at you wrong? Jason’s already removing his jacket.

Emotionally Guarded: Good luck getting him to open up. He’s more likely to tell you his deepest fears after you’ve fallen asleep.

Reckless Behavior: He’ll drag you into the most insane situations and act like it’s no big deal. “What do you mean this is dangerous? It’s fine.”

GREEN FLAGS:

Loyal to a Fault: He’ll defend you with his life, no questions asked. “You mess with her, you mess with me.”

Soft Romantic: Beneath the tough exterior, he’s writing you sweet notes and remembering the little things, like how you take your coffee.

Protective (in a good way): He won’t smother you, but he’ll make sure you always feel safe, even if it’s just crossing the street.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Workaholic: He’ll forget to eat, sleep, and sometimes text you back because “the case was just getting good!”

Overthinks Everything: Spends hours analyzing your last text to figure out if you were mad or just tired. “Was that period passive-aggressive?”

Terrible Self-Care: You’ll have to force him to drink water and go to bed like a mom with a rebellious child.

GREEN FLAGS:

Incredibly Thoughtful: He remembers every detail about you, from your favorite flower to that obscure hobby you mentioned once.

Adorably Awkward: His shy smiles and fumbling over words when you flirt back are endlessly endearing.

Problem Solver: He’ll find solutions to all your problems, from fixing your computer to making your bad day better with tea and soft music.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Insanely Jealous: He glares daggers at anyone who looks at you too long. “Why is he breathing near you?”

Judgmental: He might critique your taste in music, books, or anything else with his usual bluntness. “This… is what you listen to?”

Control Freak: He likes things done a certain way and will try to “help” you by micromanaging your life.

GREEN FLAGS:

Devoted Partner: Once he’s in, he’s all in. You’ll never doubt his commitment because he’s always showing up for you.

Loyal Beyond Measure: He’ll defend your honor to anyone, even Bruce. “She’s perfect, Father. You simply lack taste.”

Surprisingly Gentle: Despite his tough exterior, he has a soft side that only you get to see, like the way he pets animals—or you—so tenderly.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Emotionally Repressed: He’s basically a human brick wall when it comes to expressing his feelings. “I’m… fine.” No, Bruce, you’re not.

Work Comes First: He’ll disappear into the Batcave for days unless you drag him out by the cape which becomes quickly annoying.

Overprotective: He’ll want to track your every move, not because he doesn’t trust you, but because he worries too much. “It’s for your safety.”

GREEN FLAGS:

Quietly Romantic: He may not be overly expressive, but he’ll show love through subtle gestures—like a bouquet of your favorite flowers left on the table.

Ultimate Provider: He makes sure you never want for anything, whether it’s emotional support or physical comfort.

Unshakable Devotion: Once you’ve captured his heart, he’s yours forever. There’s no halfway with Bruce—he’s in it for the long haul.

[nereidprinc3ss]

belladonna

in which you have to get your tetanus shot, and spencer is there to hold your hand. and… tease you. just a little bit. (bandages universe)

fluff warnings/tags: needles/r has needle phobia, flirty!reader, idiots in love, teasing, not established relationship yet, anxiety, Spencer makes a joke abt his addiction, did I mention IDIOTS IN LOVE a/n: works as a standalone, as do all the bandages fics I believe. anyway hope u like! <3

“Spencer, I don’t think I can do this.”

He sets down his shoddy hospital coffee and grabs your knee to stop your leg from its rapid bouncing, exerting a gentle pressure when you don’t immediately comply.

“Yes, you can. Just breathe, okay? Try to relax. It’s much harder for your brain to remain in fight-or-flight if your body is relaxed.”

“No, it’s—I feel like I can’t breathe right now,” you say, chest constricted in a vice of panic. “I think my heart is beating too fast, I—”

Footsteps approach from the hallway and your head snaps up, cold dread filling every vein in your body—but they continue past your door.

“Oh my god, I’m losing it. I’m going to die here,” you rave, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes. The gauze wrapped around your hand presses against your brow and beneath it a cut throbs dully—a cruel reminder of what it is that you’re doing here in the first place.

Spencer gives up on trying to make you stop bouncing your leg, and instead the hand travels to your jaw to find your pulse. His fingers feel cool against your warmed skin, accentuating the constant thrum of your heart. You watch his face anxiously as fifteen seconds go by. 

“Your pulse is pretty high,” he admits gravely, returning his hands to his pockets. Your brow knits at his sudden solemnity as you look up at him. “I’m not a medical doctor, but… we might have to take you to the hospital.”

Any trace of worry withers from your face. “Truly hilarious.”

The corner of his mouth turns up a little.

“See? You’re calm enough to make a sarcastic joke at my expense. If you were actually going to die I doubt you would be able to do that.”

“Wanna make a bet?” you snap.

“Definitely not,” he smiles, warm eyes alight and not at all fazed by your attitude. “You’re the last person I’d bet against.”

“Ha,” you say bitterly, eyes darting to the door again. “In that case I might just take my chances with tetanus.”

“I just watched you slice your hand open on a rusty fence, take down a man twice your size, and get ten stitches without flinching. Needles should be afraid of you.”

At least now your face is warming from the compliment and not the anxiety. 

“It’s... different. Like, stitches and shots. Shots really fucking freak me out. I don’t know if you could tell. I’m sure I seem really chill about it.”

He nods sagely. “Trypanophobia. It’s among the most common phobias in the world, next to Arachniphobia, Ophidiophobia, Acrophobia, Aerophobia. You have Astraphobia, too, don’t you? Fear of storms?”

“Spencer.”

“I also used to struggle with needles, actually.”

You look back at him, suddenly curious.

“Used to?”

“Yeah, but I pretty much got over it when I got all the vaccines for my clearance at the Academy. Becoming addicted to intravenous drugs helped, too, but I wouldn’t recommend it,” he muses, examining the art on the wall behind you and taking a sip of his coffee.

At that exact moment, the door opens and a very professional, very exhausted-looking nurse hurries in. You hardly even register her because you’re staring at Spencer, trying to figure out if you just heard him right. He’s looking right back at you over the rim of his cup, eyes dancing with what looks like suppressed mirth.

The nurse says something, and you bless her with an ‘uh-huh’, unable to take your eyes off of Spencer.

“I must be hallucinating,” you say.

“What? You’re the only one allowed to make off-color jokes at inappropriate times?”

“I didn’t even know you could make a regular joke, honestly.”

“You ready, dear?” says the nurse, swabbing your upper arm with an alcohol wipe.

“Ah! Spencer!” You yelp, thrusting out your hand for him to take. He quickly sets the cup  back down on the window sill and takes your outstretched hand, stepping closer.

“Relax,” he laughs upon seeing how your shoulders have risen to meet your ears. “Don’t look over there. Look at me.” Gently he brushes a loose strand of your hair behind your shoulder, redirecting your focus toward him. At this point you’ve gone catatonic anyway, so you don’t resist, although it doesn’t seem to matter much because you’re basically blacking out. “Literally relax your arm. I'm serious. It will hurt less.”

“Small pinch, darlin’,” the nurse says, and you clench your jaw so hard you’re afraid you might break a tooth, and maybe some tetanus-induced lockjaw wouldn’t actually be so bad, and she’s touching your arm now, and who made that extremely undignified squeaking noise, and— “And you’re done.”

You frown.

“I’m done?”

“You’re done,” the nurse repeats. Logically she has no reason to lie to you about this, but you look over to check anyway because there’s simply no way you’re done just like that. Sure enough, she’s smoothing a band-aid over your shoulder and pulling your sleeve back into place.

You look back at Spencer as if searching for a second opinion, utterly baffled. He carefully frees his poor hand of your bone crushing grip and grabs your discarded FBI jacket from the chair, handing it to you.

“That’s it?” you say, taking the jacket and absent-mindedly folding it on your lap.

“That’s it. You did it.”

“Really? That’s all? I feel like it can’t be that easy. I don’t even think I felt anything,” you ramble, rolling your shoulder around, and finding just a bit of soreness.

“You were so brave,” he nods, stepping closer to wipe something warm and wet away from under your eyes. “Americans can rest easy knowing they’ve got someone like you in the FBI.”

“Shut up. Am I crying?”

He laughs, and the twinkly sound fills you with even more joy than normal. Everything seems a little brighter, a little warmer—probably another adrenaline rush or a result of your brain releasing a trace amount of opioids in response to the pain.

“Just a little bit.”

“You two are FBI?” The nurse says, like she can’t quite believe it.

Before you can tell her that you don’t very much like her tone, Spencer nods.

“Behavioral analysis unit.”

“Oh! You guys catch all those serial killers?”

He nods politely, giving her a flat smile. “That’s the goal, yes.”

“Wow. There’s a meet-cute to tell your children.”

You snort and immediately clap your good hand to your mouth, looking up at Spencer to see how he’ll react. Of course he’s already red and stammering.

“Oh, no—I—maybe I misled you, we’re not, uh… we’re not together. Not like that. We are partners in the, in the sense of our job, not—we’re not romantically involved. Just—co-workers. Friends. We’re, I’d say we’re good friends. I mean, she’s great. She’s very nice, and, well—maybe nice isn’t exactly the right word, but she’s, you know—”

“Spencer,” you interrupt.

“You ready to go?” he says immediately, looking very grateful that someone finally cut him off. Works like a charm, every time. 

You stand, and to your surprise, wobble a bit on your feet. Spencer steadies you with a hand to your waist. “Woah,” you mutter, trying not to look too disoriented.

“You need to eat,” he says. “With how anxious you’ve been you probably completely burned through whatever calories were in your system. It’s a parasympathetic nervous system response to adrenaline.”

“I know what it is.” You grab his hand and turn to the nurse, who is looking at the two of you with a bemused, slightly clinical interest. “Um... thanks? Right?”

“Okay,” Spencer says. “We’re leaving now. Come on. Go.”

As he’s herding you out the door, you keep trying to look at him over your shoulder. “Is it weird that I kind of liked it? Does that, like… point to something?”

“Never repeat that,” Spencer says, shaking his head, but you can hear the strain of a hidden smile in his voice. 

You smile up at him as the two of you walk down the empty hallway, swinging his hand in yours.

“She thought we were together,” you say, and it’s almost a gloat, though Spencer can’t quite wrap his mind around what that might mean. Instead, he relishes the weight of your hand in his. He doesn’t exactly remember when that became commonplace, but he never takes it for granted. He can’t help the smirk across his face which always lets you know he’s going to say something snarky. 

“She just doesn’t understand that you need constant attention or you’ll die.”

Luckily, you’re used to each other. Quips are just one prevalent dialect in your vast love language. 

“Yup. I’m a delicate, rare flower.”

Spencer scoffs lightly.

“Yeah. Like deadly nightshade. Or water hemlock.”

“Those ones are pretty, right?”

He squeezes your hand. Imagines telling you that he’s in love with you and has been for a very long time. 

Instead, he thinks about dinner. 

“Gorgeous. Where do you want to eat, Belladonna?”

for more of these two, check out the bandages universe masterlist!

[voidhope]

The Other Woman

—

Synopsis: Where Miguel leaves Y/N to go back to a different version of his old wife found in another universe.

Pair: Miguel O’Hara x Spider!Reader

Tags: ANGST!!, long term established relationship, heartbreak, marriage, cheating, mental health, cold/distant Miguel

—

A/N: Hi! I don’t really write at all!!

I have been a silent reader on tumblr for years but this idea has been playing in my mind so much I had the urge to write it. I have been down so bad for Miguel been on his tag like 24/7 indulging in all the content creators have been putting out. So I’m excited to join in giving content, however keep in mind I kinda suck! Apologies for any mistakes, anything confusing, or it not being well written enough. Honestly could have made this into multiple parts with better details but nah. Tried my best ^^ since it’s my first time, any feedback is greatly appreciated!

Honestly tbh we all don’t have a solid grasp how the whole canon thing and multi universe works yet so!! A lot of what is written is made up to suit my storyline so please don’t get mad about the inaccuracies.

I love a good angst and today’s story will be EXTRAAA angsty!!! As well kinda long!!

—————————————————

The moment that changed your life was while working on an experiment during your college finals. You were a proud and gifted physics major that was so passionate about discovering and exploring what the world didn’t know.

You had snuck into Alchemax late at night. You wanted to show your professors just how much you could do with the right tools. Next thing you know, playing with their machines, you had spawned a spider right in-front of you. The glowing vibrant red spider had sunk its jaw into your hand.

Your life did a complete turn and you spent the rest of that week freaking out while changes to your body were happening. Causing you to fail your semester after missing exams. Things felt like it could only get worse when a massive blue suited masked man showed up out of nowhere in your dorm interrogating you.

“Where’s the spider?” He had a strong grip on your shoulders. You couldn’t focus while trying to process why this man had what seemed like claws sticking out of the ends of his fingers.

“I don’t know, it like died after it bit me!” You exclaimed nervously at the freakishly strong man. Trying to reach for anything behind you to use as a defense weapon.

“Dios mío no me digas eso…” He groaned loudly letting you go. Having the opportunity to grab something, you threw a sanrio plushie at him. Only causing him to wave his arms in annoyance. “That spider is from my earth and somehow you brought it here. Now you’re a spider-man.”

And the rest is history…

—

You learned that the man was Miguel O’Hara and when he found you he was just starting his missions with the multiverse. You being the few of the firsts to join his team.

Your situation was quite bizarre and he called you an anomaly for a long time, spending hours studying you and also training you. You ended up being the one case that can’t be explained no matter how much effort was put into monitoring you.

Almost like it was meant to be. Your universe remained perfect with its current spider-man doing fine. No big collapse of a black hole or anything. When you got bit by a spider from Earth-928 your DNA merged with that universe making you fit in perfectly. You were one of the only spider-people with an uncertain timeline with new canons being created depending on what universe you were in.

What changed from you being just a piece of research for Miguel is when he then realized that maybe you were a gift from the multiverse. After all the grief and pain he’d went through the universe had given him this person that worked out perfectly no matter how hard he tried to push them away. You fell head over heels for him and vice versa, all while canon events were being created with both of you together.

You were there as his team grew, slowly turning into a family. Then both of you getting married finalizing that this was your home. Everything felt perfect. Although a relationship with Miguel could have its up and down days, nothing could ever tear you both apart. Or so you assumed.

—

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Miguel couldn’t look at you.

“When did this start? Please be honest with me. Did I do something wrong?” You begged at him. You knew he was acting off recently but never did you think it would result to this.

You watched as he exhaled deeply staring at the ground. You felt like you couldn’t breathe as you studied his face trying to grasp onto any emotion he was showing. The atmosphere in his office felt so cold. You so badly wanted to catch his gaze and find the warmth and love his red irises used to give you. He was doing everything to push you away. He was abandoning you.

“You did nothing wrong. I met her during a mission 4 months ago.” Was all he replied.

“Who is she?” Your heart kept breaking. His face hardening as the question slipped through your lips. You knew Miguel wouldn’t leave you for just anyone. Deep in your heart you knew what this was about. He never responded but he didn’t need to when you saw his eyes flicker over to his monitor screens. You followed his trace and saw the photo of Gabriella in the corner.

“Does she have another version of your daughter?” You tried again. This is what made him look directly at you. Miguel kept opening and closing his month unsure how to tell you the truth. You weren’t stupid and he knew that. After everything he couldn’t just walk out on you with a lie.

“No.” He paused thinking of how to finally share the truth without it ruining you. There was no way out of this. “She is a younger version of herself. There is no Miguel in her universe and she’s not important to the timeline. She lives a regular life. I-it’s a chance for me to start at the very beginning.”

You felt your heart being ripped out of your chest. You processed the words carefully. She doesn’t have a child yet… Not only was he leaving you for her but he was going to fall in love with her all over again and start a family with her. A family you wanted so badly to have with him.

“What about with what happened last time you tried to live a life in a different universe?” You didn’t understand how this was happening.

He was always so carful he would never do anything to cause that again. Everything you had witness Miguel work so hard for to keep safe for years. Sleepless nights, returning bruised and beaten, frustrations and constant stress. Was it all for nothing? Is he throwing all his work away?

“This is different.” He turned away from you. “I pushed myself then into an already established life. This time I am creating that life. After all the research we did on you…” He knew that this was going to tear you apart. “I learned that if done right I could have a child from two different universes that won’t disrupt anything.”

It clicked to you then that all the research he was doing on you lately was for this. The research he did on you that time was different, personal, intimate even. As he was testing your DNAs together and seeing the outcomes. He mentioned a child and you were foolish enough to assume he was doing research to see what it would be like if you both had one together. You were giddy even as you watched him work. You had both spoken about having a family together in the past but had been too busy with spider activities. You thought it was a sign of him getting more serious about it, knowing how badly he wanted one. You would have never thought he was doing it to see how he could get back his previous child. The one you could never give him.

You had truly believe that Miguel had recovered from his obsession that his grief gave him. He accidentally destroyed a whole universe needing that life back so badly. You had spent late nights watching him re-watch clips over and over of what he had lost. It slowly stopped once your relationship blossomed with him and you thought he was ready to move on and start new. Why would you have never thought that with such a perfect opportunity presented to him that he wouldn’t drop everything for it.

“I think it’s best that you leave.” He spoke with a soft tone. As if not looking at you any longer will make the problem go away. You couldn’t wrap your mind around how he was just throwing you away like this. As if he wasn’t making you dinner, giving soft kisses, whispering I-love-you’s not so long ago.

You felt too choked up to ask anymore questions. Your throat tight and painful as you held back tears from escaping in-front of Miguel. You just nodded and headed straight out the door not being able to handle another second in that room. Your knees and hands were shaky as you speed walked into the nearest bathroom and let it all out.

—

It didn’t take long for everyone else to know something had happened. Everyone had gotten used to seeing you and him sitting together at lunch. You would make him cute lunch boxes and everyone would gag a bit while watching the two of you smile together. Some cringing seeing their scary boss being so soft around you. It was a big surprise when Miguel started to eat alone with a bag of take out food and you no where to be seen.

His teams he sent out for missions were all confused when you weren’t assigned to anything. Knowing you were one of the best, one of them slipped out a “Call for Y/N!” In the middle of fighting an anomaly too strong for them. Miguel only looked away.

It wasn’t until a new woman showed up in Miguel’s office with a grip around his waist. That’s when the spider-community realized that this was way worse than they thought.

—

You on the other hand had spilled everything to Hobie when he caught you that day leaving the bathroom with puffy eyes. You had been staying with him in his universe until you could gather yourself together to return to HQ. You knew you were going to leave for good, but you needed to go back to retrieve all your things. You couldn’t stay with Hobie forever. Worse that you weren’t from there.

You still had some hope that Miguel would come looking for you and tell you that he was all wrong. However almost two months had passed and not a word from him… That’s when you knew it was time you should return to what you once knew.

Stepping into the portal Hobie followed close behind you. He told the few others who were once close to both you and Miguel that you would be visiting. Stepping through the portal you were immediately greeted by Jessica and Peter B Parker.

“Oh, Y/N.” Jess sighed your name sadly while pulling you into a hug. You felt like you wanted to cry all over again. Missing your friends so much. Peter B came behind giving you a hug on the side.

“He’s on a mission right now.” Peter spoke up. “It might be a long one too but don’t waste anytime just incase.”

You nodded pulling away from them. Looking up around the headquarters building faintly smiling at the past memories you had here. You started heading to different areas gathering all the little things you had left around. Hobie had stitched for you a cute backpack with different scraps of patterned clothes and covered in patches of punk band logos but made with hammer space technology. Making it fun for you to fill endless of your things in the bag.

The last stop was in Miguel’s office. Doubt started to fill your mind; maybe he already threw out all of your stuff. Why would he even keep it after all of this? What no one could warn you of was the other person sitting on his platform.

“Hello!” She chirped at you. It felt like the air in your lungs had just been punched out. You knew her too well. From all the photos and videos you had seen peaking over Miguel’s shoulder. However seeing her in person was something you had never expected. You knew it wasn’t the original her but it was a copy paste image for sure.

“Hi.” Was all you managed to choke out. She was beautiful, stunning. You could see clearly now the similar features she shared in another universe with her daughter. The parts that Miguel didn’t have. She kept smiling kindly at you, almost in a graceful way. You started to feel all your insecurities start eating you up from the inside. How could you have ever compared to her.

“What’s your name? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” Getting off Miguel’s platform she walked closer to you. The room started to feel suffocating.

“Y/N.”

“Well, it��s nice to meet you! It’s nice to meet other girls around here.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you realized she had no reaction to your name. So Miguel never told her about you… Or that the fact was he was still even legally married to you.

“My boyfriend isn’t here right now but, if you want, I can tell him you stopped by.” She continued as you stayed silent.

“Oh, no it’s okay. I just came in here to get some stuff.” You rushed as you really wanted nothing to do with Miguel at all. You almost worried that he might even get angry knowing you got to speak with her. If he already dislikes you this much you couldn’t even imagine how he would feel if you got in the way of this for him.

You started heading over to the familiar drawers around the room. Grabbing your old hoodies and shirts finding your most comfortable of things here. You treated this place as one of your safe spaces as you used to spend so much time here.

“Oh I didn’t know these were all yours! I was wondering why this was all around. When I came here I wanted to do some spring cleaning but Miguel wouldn’t let me touch anything.” She followed besides you. “It’s so mind blowing seeing all this technology. We don’t have any of this where I live-“ She continue rambling but you started to zone her out. You felt like you were about to have a panic attack any minute. There was one question that kept burning in your mind.

“Are you and Miguel already planning to have a child?” You blurted out. Your eyes widened a bit as you surprised yourself. She let out a loud laugh.

“Oh dear no! We have only been together about 6 months. You must be new around here so you must not know much about us.” She chuckled.

In some cruel way you were hoping she would have said yes. You had that twisted hope of maybe Miguel just keeping her to have a kid and ditching her after he gets Gabriella and run back to you. In reality he was playing the long game, he really meant it when we said he was starting over. “He’s never mentioned kids anyways. I’m not even sure if he’d like them or do well with them.”

With that statement she made you looked at her appalled. Anyone could see in Miguel how good of a father he could be. Just in the way he takes care of the society he built here. You started to realize that she really has been left in the dark. She doesn’t know anything. She probably doesn’t even know that she’s a replacement of another self. You wondered why Miguel was doing this. It felt like he didn’t just toy with you but with her as well. A man you came to love for how selfless he was, to realize now everything was for his own personal gain. Suddenly you started to feel bad for her. You couldn’t dislike her, she wasn’t doing anything wrong and she doesn’t even know.

“I got all my stuff. Nice to meet you.” Was all you could say as you zipped up your bag and turned straight around out of there. Not giving any glance back at her, you left to one of the empty training rooms to recollect your overwhelming thoughts. All of the self healing you tried the past month thrown in the garbage.

It wouldn’t be too soon that news of you going around the building was returned to Lyla. You had cut out all coms while you were gone so she immediately popped up on your watch when she found out.

“AH-“ You jumped as the tiny AI was suddenly in front of your face.

“It’s so wonderful to see you Y/N. Oh my god!”She started. Then she went on rambling about how she knew everything and had seen everything. How she didn’t agree with what was happening and was doing everything she could to convince you to stay. After 5 minutes of her rambling you stopped her to let your emotions out.

“Lyla, Lyla It’s okay. Just stop. It’s all complicated I know, but this didn’t work out. I wished Miguel just cheated on me like all the other fucked up normal men out there. That I walked in on him deep in another random girl. Though painful I could have tried fixing and fighting for us. But instead what I got was him emotionally cheating on me and chase after something he knows I can never give him.” You felt yourself choke up. “I can never ask him to give up what he longs and dreams for just for me to be happy. I lost this battle the moment he laid eyes on her.”

Finding comfort in the AI your husband made. You’ve created a bond with Lyla that Miguel found cute but you knew now this might be the last time you’ll be speaking with her.

“You can give him a family y/n… you guys have been married two years now. I know you’ve both set the thought aside until the multiverse issues are better but you can fight for him. You have to snap him out of his fantasy. He still thinks about you.”

“Lyla you know deep down truly he never just wanted a family. He wanted exactly what he had. What he lost. Which should be impossible but being by his side seeing how insane the multiverse is… Good for him for believing in something so hard he’s found himself even a third chance to do it.”

“I hate that you’re being too kind about this situation.” Lyla paced around you.

“I love him so deeply Lyla. You know that very well. It’s so hard to suddenly hate him. I am angry, but I’m also emotionally drained I can’t do this.” You let out a deep sigh. “I’ve watched him long for this family when we just met. For some stupid reason when things worked out for us I thought I would be enough… When we got engaged and he would spend some days at home with me not even coming to HQ. I thought he was finally moving on not just from his grief and past but from the weight of his work. I saw a bright future for us.”

“You can still have a bright future with him! You moving here gave him a new canon event, another chance at life in his timeline. Here in his own universe! He’s just too obsessed and he’s lost himself in that.” She exclaimed with her hands up.

“Our canon event was our wedding.” Your frowned deepened. “But the universe didn’t say anything else after. It doesn’t say our canon event means we are suppose to live happily together forever I guess.”

“I’m just trying my best to be optimistic. I rooted so hard for you and Miguel when you joined the team. I know you can remember the amount of times I would force you both in rooms.” Lyla recalled.

“And I’m grateful for it… Even if this didn’t work out. I was given precious memories, not just working with you and being on this team but falling in love with Miguel. I know I’m being all depressed and hopeless but I feel like even if I move on I’ll never be able to replace him and find a relationship like this again. However he threw me away so easily and maybe he never valued me as much as I did to him.” You felt your emotions bubble. “I became who I am here. I’m going to miss everyone so much.”

“You can still stay here and work with us.” She edged on.

“I can’t just sit around here begging at his feet to return to me or moping around doing missions while watching him with someone else. I want to hate him so badly. I know he’s your boss and you’re basically hardwired to do everything for him and you’re trying your hardest to fix what you think is his right path. But think of me a little more and how miserable it’ll be. I’m the only one hurting here.”

Lyla paused and stared at you with an almost glossy-eyed look. While she worked she could see the inner term-oil Miguel was hiding and the emptiness he was turning to since trying to start new in the other universe. It just wasn’t her place to hold this conversation and he was the one who needed to get a grip of himself and really think and talk with you. She can’t be the one trying to mend the pieces for both of you together. What Miguel did was so wrong. She knew you were right and she didn’t want to see any more damage be caused to you.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” She looked up at you sincerely. “I hate this outcome for you. Not only are you loosing your husband but your home. When was the last time you’ve even been in your universe?”

“Like a year ago for a mission…”

“Exactly! Even if things are over with Miguel, you have all of us here! I wish you could stay. I understand you leaving, I really do. I know a lot of us will try visiting you but I’m tied to Miguel…” You started to see how it clicked for her too that it’s most likely you might not see each other for a long time. “Even if a spider-person is visiting you I can’t just show up on their watch… It’ll go back to him and I know you wouldn’t want that. I know I’m an AI and I can’t hold real emotions but I mean it when I say I’m going to miss you.”

Tears poured down your cheeks as her words hit you. Going back to your universe is going to be a struggle. You have nothing there now. However nothing can compare to the pain of the outcome you’ve had with Miguel, and you needed out of here ASAP. Your mental health getting worse the longer you stay. Even the other spiders you have come to love can’t bring that spark back right now. You needed genuine time for yourself, even if it’s self destructive, instead of putting on a fake smile everyday here.

“Bye, Lyla.” You whispered. She nodded and waved her hand goodbye at you before disappearing. You took your watch off your wrist placing it on a nearby desk. With it you pulled the divorce paperwork out of your pocket neatly sealed and already signed on your half. Opening a portal you took your last glances at the place you spent so many loving memories in.

Tears blurred your vision as you stepped through the portal. Once your legs landed on a rooftop of a building in your dimension, you racked out full sobs falling to your knees.

You were always just the other woman.

—————————————————

Thank you so much for reading!! I know it was a longer one ~

would anyone like a part 2? If so anyone want a angsty or happy ending? I think it’ll be more in Miguel’s perspective as well!

EDIT: You can now read PART 2 here

[chancloud8]

CHAPTER 1

series masterlist

Pairing: OT8 x reader

Word Count: 3,9k

Tags: Intro, bodyguard!ot8, idol!reader

Summary: Meeting your new bodyguards doesn't go as smoothly as everyone hoped..

‘I don’t need a group of bodyguards,’ you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time. 

Your manager Yoona doesn’t even look at you anymore and you fight the urge to stamp your feet like a little child to get her attention. You won’t stoop that low though, so instead you place your hands on your hips and glare at the woman who’s been by your side since you debuted about two years ago. 

‘We’re not having this discussion again, y/n,’ Yoona says, her eyes still fixed on her phone screen. ‘Your popularity is growing by the day, you’ve received multiple death threats in the last few months and in case you forgot, last week someone tried to break into your home.’ 

Your shoulders deflate and your hands fall down beside your body. You can’t really argue with that, but you’ve grown so accustomed to having Faris at your side as your one and only bodyguard, that the thought of eight men taking his place makes you shiver. Who the hell needed eight freaking bodyguards? You weren’t a princess for fuck’s sake. 

Yoona finally looks at you then. ‘It’s very important to us to keep you safe, darling. I know it will be an adjustment, but you’ll get used to it.’ 

‘But eight?’ you argue, trying once more. ‘Do I really need eight men following my every move?’ 

‘That’s why we’re placing some of them around you with other jobs as well, kind of like undercover bodyguards,’ Yoona smiles at you like that makes it any better. 

You slump down in the chair across from Yoona and frown at her. What could bodyguards possibly go undercover as in your team? Woman, sure, no problem, but a muscled man? They’d stand out immediately. 

‘What do you mean?’ you ask carefully, not sure if you even want to know. 

‘They all have multiple skill sets, but we decided on adding three of them as your dancers and one will probably step in as a personal assistant of sorts,’ Yoona explains, her eyes once more on her phone screen. 

‘Why?’ you blurt out. ‘I don’t even need new dancers? We’re not firing anyone are we?’ 

You were perfectly happy with your team as it was and it would kill you to let any of them go because Yoona decided you needed eight freaking men to watch you. 

Yoona sighed and put down her phone. ‘We’re not firing anyone, but Dohyun is still recovering from his injury and Ju-won has asked for a few months off to visit his family. As for why, it will allow them to be around you more casually.’ 

Damnit. That actually made sense. 

‘And you’re sure they can dance?’ you ask, already knowing the answer. Yoona would never suggest something like this if they couldn’t. 

‘Yes, y/n, they can dance. I think you’ll be impressed actually.’ 

That makes you curious. Yoona isn’t easily impressed, so if she thinks you’ll approve, they must be good. Maybe you should give them a chance, or just be such a brat they run away screaming. 

‘Fine,’ you sigh. ‘When will I meet them?’ 

Yoona looks at her watch and your eyes widen at the movement. She wouldn’t do this to you, would she? 

‘They’ll be here in an hour to meet you,’ Yoona says and you let out a relieved breath. ‘You better be back here by then or I will let one of them drag you here by your ear.’ 

‘Bossy much,’ you whisper, but you don’t really mean it. You luckily have a very good relationship with your manager and even though she drives you up a wall sometimes, you know she has your best interest at heart. 

Yoona rolls her eyes at you and waves her hand at the door. ‘Go be bratty somewhere else, I’ll see you in an hour.’ 

You bark out a laugh and jump up from the chair. ‘As you wish, my Queen,’ you say, doing a little courtesy. 

Your current bodyguard Faris is waiting for you in the hallway, a smile on his handsome face as he spots you. 

‘Good talk?’ he asks, following one step behind you. 

‘You knew about this, didn’t you?’ you ask, glaring at him over your shoulder. 

‘I’m the one who recommended them actually,’ Faris says and only his quick reflexes stop him from walking straight into your back as you stop walking immediately at his words. 

‘What?’ you turn around to frown at him. ‘Why would you do that to me?’ 

Faris raises his eyebrows and stares down at you with a knowing look, his arms crossing over his chest. 

‘Fine,’ you roll your eyes at him. ‘I know why, Yoona was so kind to remind me, but I still don’t get why it has to be eight.’ 

‘It might seem excessive to you Nabi,’ Faris says, addressing you with your stage name which he knows usually softens you. ‘But you don’t see all that we see and trust me when I say that once you’re on tour, you’ll be happy to have them by your side. It gets crazy out there.’ 

‘I know that, but undercover bodyguards?’ you make a face. ‘I’m not royalty.’ 

Faris chuckles and with a gentle push on your shoulder, he guides you further through the hallway and towards the studio you were working at before Yoona called you to her office. It was one of the things you really liked about your agency. Nearly everything you needed was in the same building. 

‘You may as well be and I trust Chan and his guys to keep you safe,’ Faris says as he holds a door open for you. 

‘So you really know them?’ you ask, sitting down at the desk you were working at before. Your laptop is still open on the editing program you work with and there are multiple notebooks, paper coffee cups and empty candy wrappers spread all around it. ‘Did you work with them before?’ 

‘I trained 3RACHA actually,’ Faris nods. ‘Chan and I had multiple gigs together after that and I’ve only heard good things about the others as well. I’m confident I’m leaving you in good hands.’ 

‘You shouldn’t be leaving me at all,’ you groan, throwing your head back against your chair. ‘But I understand and I hope that when I have a husband one day, he'll do the same for me.’ 

Faris just smiles at that and gets comfortable on the couch facing the door. He knows better than to get into this conversation with you again. Last time you ended up facetiming his wife in tears and he ended up having to calm down two crying women. 

‘Wait, did you just say sriracha?’ you sit up in your chair when your brain suddenly realizes what he had just said. ‘As in the hot sauce?’

‘No, I said 3RACHA, that’s what they called themselves back then,’ Faris replies, glancing at you. ‘I think they made music together in their free time, before they started their own company.’ 

Huh. Interesting. Why on earth would they go from making music together to becoming bodyguards? 

‘So all eight of them made music together?’ you ask curiously. 

‘No, just Chan, Jisung and Changbin. I think they mostly rapped, but if you’re interested in knowing more, you can always ask. It could break the ice when you meet them,’ Faris suggests, winking at you. 

‘I’ll pass, I don’t want them to think I’m happy about this arrangement,’ you murmur, turning your chair so your back is to Faris. ‘Will you tell me when it’s time to go?’ 

‘Don’t I always?’ he chuckles. 

You flip him off without looking and put on your headphones. Time to edit some more music. 

****

You’re so engrossed in your music, that it takes Faris multiple tries to get you to put down your headphones. He even goes as far as opening the blinds to let the light in, making you whimper and flinch by the intrusion of it. 

‘Alright, alright,’ you yell, your eyes scrunched close. ‘I beg for mercy, I’ll come with you.’ 

Faris laughs and closes the blinds, once again developing the room in darkness, just how you like it. He has scolded you many times before about how bad it is for your eyes to squint at your screen in a dark room, but you rarely listen to him about it. 

‘If you think about telling my new watch dogs this trick of yours, I’ll haunt you,’ you warn Faris when the two of you walk towards Yoona’s office. 

Faris makes a movement with his hands as if he’s zipping his lips closed and you nod happily at him, trusting him to keep his word. 

‘How late are we?’ you ask, having forgotten your phone in the studio when Faris basically dragged you out by your arm. 

‘About five minutes too early,’ he smiles proudly. 

Of fucking course. He’s been working with you for two years so he knows all your annoying traits by now, including having a habit of being late because you simply forget the time when you’re working. 

‘What will I do without you,’ you pout at him, ignoring the nervous butterflies in your stomach as you near Yoona’s office. 

‘You’ll be just fine, Nabi,’ Faris says and you’re not sure if he means it as a reply to what you just said or as a reassurance before meeting your new team of bodyguards. 

Taking a deep breath, you turn towards Faris. ‘How do I look?’ 

‘I thought you didn’t care?’ he grins, but he reaches out to flatten a few wild strands of your hair. 

You blow him a kiss, put on a straight face and turn around to knock on the door before pushing it open. The first thing you’re greeted with is the silhouette of 4 men standing with their back to you. Each of them have broad muscular shoulders that are clearly visible under the black suit jacket they’re wearing, the fabric straining like they’re wearing a size too small. 

The man on the right turns around when you enter and you nearly gasp at his beauty. His hair is styled to show a little v of his forehead and the black strands nearly reach his eyes. Jesus. He could be a model if he wanted too. He raises his eyebrows at you when you just stare at him for a moment, before he nudges the man next to him. 

‘Are you fucking kidding me,’ you mutter under your breathe when the other man turns around and piercing eyes meet yours. 

Of course he’s beautiful as well. What the hell was Yoona thinking? 

‘Ah, Y/N, there you are,’ Yoona says when she notices you. ‘On time, even.’ 

You roll your eyes and stroll forward to her desk, ignoring the four men as you make your way around them. In that little moment you forget there’s supposed to be more of them and when you turn to stand next to Yoona and see the chairs in front of her desk filled with four more gorgeous men, you nearly stumble. 

Yoona grins at you and you narrow your eyes at the woman. 

‘You think this is funny, don’t you?’ you grumble at her. ‘Where did you even find them? heaven?’ 

One of the men snorts before trying to cover it up with a cough. 

‘Don’t mind her gentleman, she’s in a mood today,’ Yoona smiles. 

‘I wonder why,’ you mutter, sending a fake smile in the direction of the bodyguards. 

‘That’s alright, it must be a lot to take in,’ one of them says with such a deep voice that your eyes widen. 

It must look comical, cause the same man that snorted earlier, lets out a giggle. ‘Don’t worry, Miss, it’s how everyone reacts to first hearing Felix’s voice,’ 

You want to focus on him calling you Miss, but the urge to see which face belongs to the deep voice is stronger.

‘Who’s Felix?’ you ask, your eyes searching the men in front of you. 

‘I am,’ the only blonde man of the group says, lifting his hand to show you where he is. He’s absolutely stunning with freckles sprinkled over his nose and cheeks. 

‘Holy shit, is that your real voice?’ you ask without thinking, slapping your hand in front of your mouth as soon as the words come out. 

He laughs and a few of the other men chuckle as well. 

‘It is, sometimes it gets even deeper,’ he says. 

‘Yeah, Lix actually has like three different voices,’ the man who called you Miss grins. 

It’s getting annoying not to know his name, but you don’t want to ask and seem interested. Luckily one of the men at the back seems to read your mind somehow. 

‘Why don’t we all introduce ourselves, my name is Bang Chan, but you can call me Chan. I’m the leader and head of your security team as of now. So if you experience any problems with our service in any way, I’m the one you can come to.’ 

‘Noted,’ you mumble, ignoring Yoona’s glare at your rudeness. 

So that’s Chan. Faris forgot to mention how beautiful his trainee was and you were so going to punch his arm for that later. 

‘I’m Lee Minho,’ the one with the piercing stare says. ‘I’ll be joining your dance team.’ 

Fuck. Of course he is. 

‘So will I,’ Felix smiles. ‘Lee Felix.’

‘And me, Hwang Hyunjin,’ the man closest to you winks. 

Great. They were absolutely going to kill you. In more ways than one. 

Biting your lip you wait for the last four to introduce themselves and pray to all the gods that Miss guy is going to be your assistant. He already feels like the most easy going out of all eight and if you need to work with one of them closely, you’d rather it be him than anyone else. 

‘Kim Seungmin, I’ll be one of your bodyguards’ the one who noticed you first says, his eyes flicking up and down your body as if he’s calculating how much of a flight risk you are. 

Oh just you wait and see buddy. 

‘I’m Yang Jeongin, but you can call me Innie or Ayen,’ the very cute man in front of Seungmin smiles and you nearly smile back at him. 

Finally the man you’ve been waiting for speaks up. ‘I’m Han Jisung, your new assistant.’ 

You cheer in your head, keeping a straight face as you look at the last man. He’s definitely the most buff of them all, his biceps really testing the fabric of his suit jacket. 

‘And I’m Seo Changbin, also part of your daily bodyguard squad.’ 

‘You’re all way too beautiful to be bodyguards,’ you say, crossing your arms with a frown while tapping your foot on the ground. 

Yoona makes a noise beside you and you don’t dare to look at her. She’ll definitely lecture you later, but this is all on her anyways. 

‘Worried your fans will fawn over us?’ Jisung jokes, winking at you. 

Your lips tip up in a tiny smile, but you quickly straighten your face. It was going to be hard to be a brat to them, but you were nothing if you weren’t stubborn. You’re not going to just warm up to them because they were hot and funny. Nope. Not going to happen. 

‘More like you’d be too busy worrying about your good looks to protect me,’ you say, raising your eyebrows at them. 

‘Aren’t you a ray of sunshine,’ Minho grumbles, placing his hand on Jisung’s shoulder as if to comfort him. ‘You won’t have to worry about that, looking this good doesn’t cost us much.’

You open your mouth to reply, but Yoona gets up and goes to stand next to you. 

‘That’s enough Y/N,’ she hisses before smiling her million dollar smile to the men. ‘As you can see Y/N hasn’t really warmed up to the idea of having this many eyes on her all the time.’ 

‘Don’t you have that all the time though,’ Seungmin says directly to you. 

You glare at him. ‘That’s not the same. 

He just shrugs. ‘We don’t want anything from you like your fans or stalkers. We’re not here to be your friends, we’re just here to keep you safe. That’s all that should matter.’ 

His words hit you harder than they should and you can’t help but flinch. The idol life isn't great for maintaining friendships and since you weren’t in a group, the only people you really had around you to talk to were your bodyguard Faris, Yoona and your dancers. You didn’t have a best friend, or even really friends in general, not since high school ended. 

‘Min!’ Chan calls out, glaring at the man. 

You square your shoulders and tilt your head, putting another fake smile on your face. ‘It’s fine, he’s right isn’t he.’ 

‘No, he’s not,’ Chan shakes his head. ‘Listen-’ 

‘It’s fine,’ you repeat, interrupting him. ‘How about I’ll show Jisung his office and we can go over the schedule for next week?’ 

Chan frowns down at you, sharing a look with Jisung and Yoona, but then he nods. You give him a nod back in thanks and without looking at any of the other guys you make a beeline for the door, hoping Jisung will follow you. 

‘Well, that went great,’ you hear someone say before you step outside. 

Faris frowns when he sees the look on your face, but he doesn’t say anything and falls into step behind you like he always does. It’s one of the things you love about him, he always knows when to not ask questions. You can hear him and Jisung quietly talking behind you, but you don’t mind, they know each other after all. 

‘Well, here we are,’ you say, opening the door of the small office area next to the studio you usually work at. ‘You can arrange everything how you like and if you need anything you can ask Yoona.’ 

‘I wasn’t expecting an office,’ Jisung smiles at you, stepping inside the room to take a look. 

It’s not much. Just a desk with a comfortable chair and a computer, a two person couch and in the corner there’s a bookcase that so far only houses a cactus, your first three albums and a box with documents your last assistant left behind. 

‘Of course you get an office, can’t have you shacking up with me in the studio,’ you say, trying to joke with him. 

‘Hey, about what Seungmin said,’ Jisung starts, sitting down in his desk chair and twirling around. ‘He’s just very serious about his job, he didn’t really mean the part about us not being your friends.’ 

‘It’s fine,’ you shrug. ‘You’re not really meant to be my friends anyways, you’re hired to protect me.’ 

‘Yeah, you don’t look too happy about that. Why is that?’ Jisung asks and he sounds genuinely curious. ‘I mean, sure we’re a whole lot, but isn’t it nice to know you’ll be safe?’ 

‘Safe? Yes. Watched by eight, I repeat, eight men? No thank you, I don’t need that.’ 

Jisung tilts his head and purses his lips in thought, like he’s actually trying to see this from your side. ‘I get it, I do, I’ve lived with most of them for the last few years and like I said, we can be a lot.’ 

‘But?’ you ask, falling down on the couch in front of Jisung’s new desk. ‘I feel there’s a but there.’ 

‘You really have no idea, do you?’ Jisung leans his chin on his palm as he looks at you. ‘We’ve seen the threats Y/N, we’ve seen the video’s of handsy fans, we’ve seen the footage of that dude trying to break into your house. It’s a miracle really that nothing has happened to you so far with only Faris by your side.’ 

‘He’s right, Nabi,’ Faris says from his spot by the door. 

‘Okay, maybe more than one bodyguard would be better,’ you say slowly. ‘But eight? I still think it’s a bit much, especially the undercover bit.’ 

Jisung shrugs and leans back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. ‘Maybe so, but at least you’ll know you will be safe.’ 

‘I guess,’ you mumble. 

‘Wanna go over the schedule for next week with me?’ Jisung asks. ‘Get your mind off all this for a bit?’ 

You jump up from the couch immediately and walk around the desk to stand next to him while he starts up the computer. 

****

About half an hour later you’re fairly confident Jisung will make a good assistant. He’s written down your interviews and gigs for the coming month and made a list of all the things he wanted to take care of before that. It was cute how he wanted to do it right. 

‘Knock, knock,’ a voice called out from the door and when you looked up you saw Chan and Changbin hugging Faris. 

‘How’s it going here?’ Chan smiles at you as he walks inside, his hands in his pocket. He probably tried to come off less intimidating like that, but it didn’t really work. 

‘Fine,’ you say, looking at the computer screen again. 

If you kept your eyes on him you’d probably drool all over your favorite studio outfit. That man was way too fine. 

‘It’s going great, Channie,’ Jisung says. ‘We’ve been getting along perfectly without the ice kings here.’ 

‘Don’t let them hear you call them that,’ Chan chuckles, moving to sit on the couch. ‘I hope we’ll be able to make this work, Y/N. I take great pride in my work and I’ll do anything I can to make you feel comfortable around us.’ 

Ugh. Why did he have to be so kind too? 

‘Thank you,’ you mutter, your eyes still on the screen. 

‘We’ll promise not to impose your privacy too much when we move in, but–’ 

Your head snaps up to look at him then and from the corner of your eyes you notice Jisung covering his face with his hands. 

‘What did you just say?’ you ask, standing up. ‘Please tell me I didn’t just hear you say the words moving in?’ 

‘Uhm,’ Chan tilts his head in confusion. ‘I thought you knew?’ 

‘Knew. What?’ you growl, your fingers balling up in fists. 

‘Oh boy,’ Jisung whispers and you turn to glare at him. 

‘You knew about this?’ 

‘Uhm, we all did? And we figured so would you,’ he shrugs, looking at you with big innocent eyes. 

You close your eyes, not at all immune to those brown doe eyes. If you keep looking at him you will stop being angry and you can’t do that. Not now. 

‘If somebody doesn’t tell me very soon what exactly this thing I’m supposed to know is, I will scream,’ you clench your jaw and take a shaky breath. 

This can’t be happening. They are not moving into your house with you. Yoona won’t do that to you, not after your talk this morning. Right? You close your eyes in frustration, already knowing the answer to your own question. She will. 

‘Such a drama queen,’ a new voice speaks up from the door and when you turn your head, already seeing red, you see Minho smirking at you. 

Changbin and Faris look concerned and when you look back at Chan, he actually looks like he’s pitying you. Fuck. 

‘Just say it already.’

‘Well, we’re supposed to move into your new house with you,’ Chan says, confirming it. 

Oh hell no. 

a/n: eeeeeeekkk I'm so excited for this series you have no idea!! I wasn't going to upload till tomorrow, but @staylovesmiley made me flip a coin and here I am at midnight, feeding you the first chapter.

Please let me know your thoughts <3

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[steveseddie]

when the clock strikes twelve

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles “midnight” & @steddiebingo 12 days of christmas mini event “carol” | rated: t | wc: 1000 | tags: different first meeting, post season 2, new year’s kiss

read on ao3

It’s five minutes to midnight when Steve steps into the bathroom at Tina’s house.

If he’d known that coming to her New Year’s Eve party would mean welcoming the new year alone in the same bathroom where his girlfriend called their relationship bullshit, Steve would’ve stayed home.

“If it isn’t the King of Hawkins,” a voice says, startling Steve and making him turn around, his heart hammering in his chest. But it’s not a demodog or fucking Billy Hargrove, just Eddie Munson sitting on the sink with his legs swinging back and forth.

“Munson.”

“Welcome to my office, Your Highness,” Eddie says with a dorky salute.

Steve glances around them. “Your office?”

“This is where I do business, you see,” he says, flipping the lid of his metal lunchbox. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”

Steve hangs a hand from his neck. “No, uh, I’m hiding from someone.”

Eddie perks up with interest. “Who?”

“Carol Perkins.”

“Your buddy Tommy’s girl?”

Steve’s nose wrinkles. “He’s not my buddy anymore and she’s not his girl either. And for some reason Carol thinks the best way to get back at him for being a dick is to kiss me at midnight.”

“And you don’t want that?” Steve shakes his head. “Thought you and Wheeler were done– or are you not over her yet? Don’t worry, big boy. There’s still time for that New Year’s resolution.”

“Shut up,” Steve says, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “It’s not about Nancy, I just don’t want to kiss the first girl who throws herself at me, you know?”

“I do not, Your Majesty,” Eddie says with an amused snort. “I’ve never participated in such activities.”

Steve tilts his head in question. “Kissing someone on New Year’s?”

Eddie looks away, nervously playing with a rip on his jeans. “Or you know, ever.”

He can’t see the way Steve’s eyebrows shoot up but he probably hears the surprise in his voice when he asks, “You’ve never kissed anyone?”

Eddie purses his lips. They’re nice lips, Steve observes. It’s a shame no one has kissed them. “No, Harrington. Go ahead and laugh it up,” he says, his voice clipped.

“I’m not laughing! I’m just–” Confused that someone as hot as you hasn’t kissed anyone. Steve clears his throat, his blush getting worse with that thought even if Eddie can’t read his mind. “I mean. Why haven’t you?”

Eddie scoffs. “People aren’t exactly lining up to kiss the town’s freak,” he says. Then hesitates before he adds, “Specifically guys.”

So the rumors about Munson are true. “Oh.”

The confession makes Steve blush, despite Eddie being the one who admitted something. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s afraid he’ll open his mouth and something stupid will come out. Something like– ‘I’m here! I’m a guy!’

So he stays silent, which makes Eddie wary.

“That’s it? You’re not gonna run? Call me names? Punch me?”

Steve can see that his shoulders are tense, his knuckles white where they’re gripping the sink tightly. It’s like he’s getting ready to run in case Steve reacts badly.

But running away or punching Eddie couldn’t be further away from what Steve wants to do right now.

“No, I–”

“Ten seconds to midnight!” Someone yells downstairs.

“I– I want to do something else,” Steve admits, his voice wavering slightly. He hesitantly steps closer to Eddie, who narrows his eyes.

“What?”

“Five seconds!” The same voice yells and the crowd joins the countdown.

“Four!”

Steve stands directly between Eddie’s legs.

“Three!”

He puts his hands on Eddie’s waist.

“Two!”

Steve raises his eyebrows in a silent question– is this okay?

“One!”

Eddie gives a tiny nod.

And then Steve swoops in, pressing his lips against Eddie’s as the crowd downstairs cheers and Eddie’s watch starts beeping.

Somewhere in the distance, fireworks go off but Steve could swear he can feel them inside him when Eddie kisses back, looping his arms around his neck.

Steve tilts his head, determined to give Eddie a good first kiss. He licks softly at his bottom lip, making him gasp. Then he kisses him a little harder, softly touching Eddie’s tongue with his, feeling the way he shudders.

He knows this is probably longer than the usual New Year’s kiss but Steve doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to stop. And apparently neither does Eddie, who pulls Steve closer and drags his teeth across his bottom lip.

It’s only when they need to breathe that they break apart.

Eddie’s eyes stay closed longer and only flutter open when Steve cups his neck and strokes an idle thumb against his jaw.

He decides that dazed and kiss-drunk are a good look on him.

“Happy New Year,” he says with a lopsided grin.

Eddie snorts amusedly. “Yeah, Happy New Year.”

The noise downstairs starts to die down. People are probably going back to drinking and dancing, maybe even leaving. He could easily slip out without running into Carol, but he doesn’t want to, not unless–

“Hey, uh, do you wanna get out of here?” Steve blurts out.

Eddie blinks. “Me?”

He can’t help but roll his eyes. “No, the other guy I just made out with in the bathroom.”

“And here I thought I was special,” Eddie says with pouty lips– fuck, Steve wants to kiss them again.

So he does. Just a quick press of lips.

When he pulls back, he places another small kiss to the corner of Eddie’s mouth.

“Say yes,” he says before doing the same on the other side. “And I’ll show you special.”

Steve hears the way Eddie’s breath hitches and feels a smirk teasing at his lips.

Only for it to be wiped away by Eddie grabbing him by his neck and pulling him in for more than a press of lips.

Damn, he’s a fast learner.

“Yes,” Eddie says once he pulls back, giving him a shit-eating grin.

Steve sends a silent ‘thank you’ to Carol Perkins before reaching for Eddie’s hand to drag him out of there.

[formula-ghost]

Read Your Diary (FC43 x fem!reader)

Chapter 1: Honey, Are U Coming?

SERIES SUMMARY: You’re Franco Colapinto’s best friend in the entire world, and you’ve agreed to accompany him along for the ride in his races with Williams. He finds it endearing how, per your therapist’s recommendation, you’ve started always bringing your diary everywhere you go, even the paddock. But when he crosses the line and turns the page, he never expected what’s inside… (Based on the song Read Your Diary by Måneskin).

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

WARNINGS: therapy heavily mentioned, reader is emotionally constipated, use of YN, reader is a lil FREAK in later chapters (affectionate because we don’t kink shame here), eventual angst and smut

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Meet me there where it never closes

Meet me there where it’s never hopeless

All is fair in love, oh

Honey, are you coming?

If you had to blame anyone for this whole ordeal, it would be your therapist. After all, she was the one who had given you the idea to start journaling in the first place.

The session had, frustratingly, gone like all of the others; you’d tell her about something you thought was innocuous and she’d ask you how that made you feel, and you wouldn’t be able to answer. You could feel your feelings all day long, but when asked to explain them, the words never came out.

Maybe it was a fear of being misunderstood or judged for your feelings. Maybe it was the fact that no one had ever taught you what to do with that bundle of emotions that rested in your stomach like a ball of yarn to be unraveled, except to avoid it altogether and stuff it down. Or maybe you just know how you actually felt, deep down, and this was your mind’s way of making it known.

Whatever the case was, your therapist suggested, in addition to your usual sessions, of course, that you start a journal. “It’ll be for your eyes only,” she assured, “you don’t have to tell me a single word of what’s in it. Just write whatever comes to mind, no matter what that is, as long as you get it out.”

So you took her advice. Worst case scenario, you thought, you’d just stop after a week or two if it didn’t make it better. But you couldn’t help feeling a little immature, like a little girl hiding a diary, when you went to the airport shop and bought a small, unassuming leather journal at a heavily marked up price and stuffed it into the bottom of your carry on.

Your therapist had suggested customizing the journal as you write your way through it—making it a safe place for your feelings and words. But for now, this would have to do. Traveling this much recently had been difficult, and you didn’t want to add the journal into the mix of your already chaotic life for the past few weeks.

Of course, you wouldn’t have had it any other way. The recent chaos and jet setting around the world was all due to the hard work and incredible luck of your best friend, Franco. He had finally made it to Formula 1, even if just for the remainder of the season, and when he had excitedly run over to your apartment to tell you the news, you had practically crushed him to death with the enormous hug you gave him. Despite his rookie status, he had somehow managed to get you paddock passes, flights, and accommodations all arranged for each of the races so you could spend your next few months flying around the world and waltzing around the Williams paddock with your best friend in the entire world.

You and Franco had met when you were younger and he had just moved to Italy to pursue his racing career. He had moved in right next to your family, and it felt like you were instantly connected. You introduced him to the country and he introduced you to the world of racing, and your friendship was a match made in Heaven. When he went to Spain, you followed, and now with his entry into Formula 1, you were still tagging along for the ride.

Of course, Franco wanted you there just as much as you wanted to be there. At first you had been hesitant to do it. You didn’t want to impose, and to this day Franco refused to tell you what strings he had to pull to get you access to the paddock, let alone flights and accommodations. “Cmon, come with me,” he had pleaded. “Think of the stories we’ll be able to tell one day! Besides, I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else by my side.”

“Franco, you sound like the protagonist of a cheesy rom com,” you laughed. “Don’t you think this is all… too much?”

“The tickets or my audition for the next Hallmark movie?” he teased, eliciting a small laugh from you. “No, I’m serious, YN. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I want you there with me, for every part of it.” He paused and looked down at his shoes, as if choosing his next words carefully. It was unusual of him, to be so worried about saying the right thing instead of just saying something. The grid had caught on soon that Franco was a talker. He continued, “I understand if you can’t come to all of them. But at least come to a few. It won’t be the same without you.”

There was a heaviness to his words that made you the slightest bit uncomfortable. Like his request was something deeper than just wanting the support of a friend. “Since when have you gotten so sentimental?” you teased, cracking a smile to lighting the tension.

He smiled back, “Since I achieved my dreams.”

Your slight smile stretched ear to ear at the reminder of how monumental a moment this was for him, and you enveloped him in another hug. “Oh Franco, I’m so happy for you!” you exclaimed.

“Happy enough to come with me?” He asked as you all broke the hug.

You lightheartedly exhaled at his instance. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The smile on his face was electric. You just couldn’t say no to him, so that’s how you ended up here, unable to say no to the steep markup on your airport shop journal, waiting for your unfortunately delayed flight from Azerbaijan to Singapore.

Even at only 4 races in, you had gotten used to doing your remote work in airports, but trying to open this journal and pour your heart out onto the pages right next to traveling strangers was… difficult, to say the least. It couldn’t have been more than 10 minutes that you stared at the blank page, but it felt like an eternity. You didn’t know what to write.

So you just began by writing how you felt physically. Tired. Nervous. Excited for Franco. Very excited for Franco.

This was supposed to be your journal, but as you got into the rhythm of filling page after page, the words were all about your best friend, the newest Formula 1 driver. You used to think that words couldn’t even describe how proud you were of him. You’d seen his hard work pay off with just a little bit of luck, and your heart seemed to swell into your chest when you thought of him in his Williams race suit ready to show the world what he could do. He’d gotten points in Baku, and you remembered your frantic heartbeat as you watched from the Williams garage and cheered in excitement at his performance. After the race he ran to you and you all practically crashed into each other going for a bear hug.

You had squeezed him with all your strength. “Franco, I’m so proud of you!”

He released you and smiled. It was a rare moment, seeing you this vulnerable. You were so happy that tears had formed at the edges of your eyes, and for a split second he looked at you and knew the true depth of those words. “So proud that you’re crying tears of joy?” he joked.

He had ruined the moment. You were so caught up in your raw emotion that you didn’t even notice the tears until he pointed them out, and your defenses kicked it as you replied, “I wasn’t crying.” Franco saw your walls go up again and cursed himself internally for talking without thinking, as he almost always did.

As you penned this memory, you felt all the emotions rushing back to you. That feeling of pride in your chest, the chaos of the garage, and Franco’s hands wrapped around you in a celebratory embrace—no, that made it sound weird. You looked down at the page. Why did that sound so… weird?

Once again, the moment had been ruined. Your flight was about to board anyway, so you exhaled and put the journal back in your bag, telling yourself you’d deal with that later. For now, you had a race to get to.

Singapore was humid and buzzing with life. Practices had gone well. On Saturday, you  hoped that the usual chaos of the paddock would distract you from your thoughts, but it was the opposite. The drone of noise—reporters talking, mechanics laughing, the purr of the car—all faded away, just background noise to your painful confusion.

Something was just…off. Before your flight you had written about your best friend and his first few races in F1. That was it. Then why did you feel like your skin was crawling every time you glanced at him on the other side of the garage? He had his headset on, talking to some race engineer about something you couldn’t even begin to understand. His gaze was so focused, his attention fully captured by the screen in front of him. He raised his hand to his mouth, thinking, before turning to the engineer and saying something.

You were enraptured by him. His passion was infectious, his determination admirable. Clad in his white race suit, he looked like he belonged here, like he had always belonged here. His hair gently curled over the top bar of his headset. His race engineer said something and Franco laughed, and again you noticed those little details that had become so usual to you; the way his eyes crinkled when he truly smiled, the scrunch of his nose, the blush that danced across his cheeks—whether from the warmth of the garage or the words of his engineer, you couldn’t tell.

Your observation (or, rather, staring) was interrupted by Franco’s gaze shifting from his engineer to you. He sent you a soft smile, and you gave him a weak one in return. You felt sick to your stomach as he politely excused himself from the conversation and made his way over to you.

“Hey YN, you good? You’ve been staring off into space for, like, five whole minutes.”

You brought your hands to rub your face, trying to bring some life into you. “Have I?”

“Yeah, thought you were checking me out or something.”

“Huh?” You felt a pang of anxiety at his insinuation.

“Well, I can’t help it that I’m so irresistible,” he replied with a smirk.

“Oh, Lord,” you laughed, exhaling in relief at his usual banter. “I just feel weird, but I’ll be okay.” You weren’t exactly lying.

The brow furrowed with concern. “You’re not feeling well? You want to go lay down for a bit?”

As much as you wanted to protest that you really were fine, the opportunity to get away for a few minutes felt like a godsend. You answered, “That’s sounds nice, actually.”

“Here, come with me,” he said as he gestured for you to follow him through the back of the garage and into the Williams motorhome.

You ended up in his driver’s room, a quiet haven away from the overwhelming chaos of the paddock. As you stepped inside it hit you just how awful you truly felt: your head was pounding, your stomach turning in flips, and your heart beating outside your chest. You practically slumped down onto the small couch, hunched over, covering your eyes with your arm to shield away the harsh fluorescent light.

You felt Franco settle beside you, breaking the silence with a soft, “You alright?” You just hummed in response, until you felt his hand meet your upper back, gently rubbing your shoulder blades as if his touch could smooth away your discomfort. But all it did was make it worse; you didn’t think your heart could beat any faster, and the turning of your stomach threatened to bring up your breakfast.

A knock at the door interrupted the moment. “Franco, need you at the media tent in five!”

Franco grumbled a reply that he’d be right there. Then he turned back to you, “You want to go back to the hotel? I can have someone take you.”

“No, I’ll be okay. I don’t want to miss qualifying.”

“YN, you look horrible.”

You laughed. “Thanks for the confidence boost.”

“No, I just… you don’t have to be there if you’re not feeling well, it’s okay.” Franco knew how stubborn you were. Never the type to admit any weakness, you could be on your death bed and still make it to the paddock to watch him race.

“No, really, I’m fine. Just give me a few minutes…”

He huffed, knowing it was no use arguing with you. He kneeled down to where you head was laid against the small table next to the couch, looking in your eyes. “Shit, YN, you’re

shivering—I’ve got a hoodie around here somewhere…” he began rummaging through his locker when another knock came at the door.

“Franco, media tent, NOW,” said the clearly agitated voice behind the door.

“Yeah, coming!” he replied.

He looked back nervous scratched the back of his neck, unsure of how far to push.

“I’ve got to go. Grab a hoodie and warm up, and if you feel any worse you come straight back here or I’ll end you,” he said, in an attempt to lighten the concern he felt for his best friend who sat before him, looking like a zombie.

“Understood,” you said, giving him a weak thumbs up.

He left the room and you sat there alone, taking deep breaths in an attempt to bring yourself back down to earth. You had truly believed it when you told Franco that you thought a few minutes in the quiet would fix you up, but your thoughts just kept racing, and your body reacted with it. The gentle comforting touch of his hand on your back left you spinning. It didn’t make sense—you two had been friends so long, the touch was nothing unusual. Just a friendly gesture. Then why did it feel like your skin was on fire?

Franco had been right, you were shivering, and to distract yourself from your thoughts you heeded his advice to find a hoodie to wear. You stepped over to the locker and found the one he brought—one purchased for him by one of his ex girlfriends, some blonde model who was nice enough but clearly wanted nothing to do with you. You didn’t blame her; you were nothing special, and your company paled in comparison to the excitements of dating a race car driver. Or at least, you assumed. It’s not like you’d ever date Franco.

Wait, what were you thinking? Dating Franco. The thought should bring disgust to your mouth. It did. Sort of. You weren’t shivering any more.

You put the hoodie back in the closet and took a deep breath. You decided to take the time between now and qualifying to see if writing in the journal could make you feel a little better. But when you opened the pages again, you just found what you had written last time and your feelings stuck.

You remembered a tactic your therapist taught you: sometimes your feelings can manifest physically. To calm down, ground yourself in your surroundings. Five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, one thing you can taste. You brought your pen to paper.

I can see: The hoodie that Franco’s ex gave him. It’s crumpled in the corner of his locker. He wears it a lot, and it makes me wonder if he misses her. I don’t ask him stuff like that. That would be weird.

I can touch: The smooth plastic of the VIP pass around my neck. Franco refuses to tell me how he got it. I can’t believe he’d go through all this for me.

I can hear: The quiet silence of the room. Feet shuffling outside the door. Does anyone know I’m in here, hidden away like a secret? Did Franco tell anyone about me—about us? What even is us—why would he tell the paddock about a friend?

I can smell: Franco’s cologne, everywhere. It smells familiar, like home and a warm hug.

I can taste: the bitter taste of the maté I had this morning. Franco put me on to it when we were younger.

You went back and read through everything you’d written, seeing how many times his name came up—Franco, Franco, Franco.

And so you wrote it again. Franco, Franco, Franco. God, I feel like a little girl having a crush on the boy who sits next to her in class.

Wait. A crush? No, you were too old for that. That’s ridiculous. But reading the words you had written over and over and over again—what else could it be?

Of course I love Franco. He’s my best friend.

Reading and writing seemed to blur. Yes, you loved Franco. So you wrote it again.

I love Franco Colapinto.

Finally, you stopped. Your headache, stomach pain, and that stubborn heartbeat had all faded to calmness. You read it, no, wrote it, no—did it even matter anymore?

I love Franco Colapinto.

No. You scribbled it out and closed the diary. No, no, no no no no no.

You checked your phone. It was almost time for quali. You threw the journal to the bottom of your bag, took a deep breath, and made your way back out to the Williams garage.

On the way there you ran into a familiar face—Franco’s mother. You had heard she would be here for the weekend, but you hadn’t run into her yet, with everything going on. Upon seeing you her face lit up in a smile. “YN! Franquito just sent me to check on you, said you were feeling well?”

You cringed a bit internally at her knowing your situation, but smiled anyway. “Oh, I was, but I’m doing okay now. Ready for quali.”

So the two of you made your way back to the garage, making idle chat about your lives back at your respective homes outside of Franco. The more you all talked, though, the more it became apparent that both of your lives seemed to revolve around him; but it made sense for his mother, of course, even if he didn’t live in Argentina anymore. But you? You couldn’t shake the feeling that your connection to Franco was deeper and more problematic than ever now. His mother’s voice faded into the background sounds of the garage as your mind returned again to again to the words you had written: I love Franco Colapinto. It felt so childish, like it belonged in a pink diary, written in a glittering gel pen, surrounded by little hearts. It made you sick to your stomach.

“You know, YN,” his mother said, breaking you from your spiraling thoughts, “I’m so glad he has you. I was so worried when he left home, but when you all met it helped me sleep better at night knowing someone was looking out for him. And look where we are now! Oh, I’m so proud of him.”

“I am too,” you smiled, somewhat pained but still genuine.

She laughed, “Now I just keep telling him he needs to find a girl like you! Stay away from all those actresses and models, they’re always trouble.”

You laughed in response, though your heart skipped a beat. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll find a good one. But I think he’s more focused on the racing.”

“Well, I hope so,” she replied, a hint of lighthearted criticism in her voice.

The conversation came to a natural end with qualifying about to start any second. Franco, suited up and putting on his helmet, glanced to you and his mother behind the barriers, throwing you a wink before stepping in the car. You rolled your eyes. Everyone who had ever met Franco knew how much of a flirt he was, it was just part of his personality. It had never bothered you before. But to be the girl he was flirting with? To have it mean something? That was something else entirely, something you’d stuffed deep down. You told yourself it meant nothing, because it didn’t. Franco was just…like that. He was just your friend. Nothing more.

Franco had a respectable qualifying—P12—and the rest of the day went by as usual before your dinner plans with him, his mother, and the rest of the Williams team. It was awkward at first. You were sat by Franco and his mother on one side, who were talking to each other in Spanish, far away mentally from the dinner; and on the other was Alex Albon's girlfriend, Lily. Thankfully, Lily seemed very kind and made conversation.

“Oh hi, YN isn’t it? I’ve been meaning to say hello! I’m Lily, it’s nice to meet you, welcome to the wag club,” she joked.

“The wag club?” You were confused, was this some motorsports term you’d never heard of?

“Oh, you know, wives and girlfriends. The fans just call us wags,” she smiled. You were grateful that at least one person's girlfriend was kind to you. But her assumption brought a blush to your cheeks.

“Oh, I’m not—“

Lily wasn’t quite paying attention, or maybe you were too quiet compared to the busy atmosphere of the restaurant. “You know, it’s really great to have you here, you and Franco are so cute! It’s a shame what happened with Logan, but on the bright side so get to make new friends. I can introduce you to the rest of the girls too, it’s hard being in a garage full of guys so we have to stick together, you know.”

You cut her off, unable to handle her mistake any longer. “Oh, uh, I’m not… Franco’s girlfriend. We’re just friends.” 

Lily paused for a moment. “Oh! Um… sorry about that.” She nervously laughed. “I just thought, you know, since you’ve been at all his races so far…”

“Oh yeah, I’m not sure how, but he got me paddock passes for the rest of the season. I mean, once in a lifetime opportunity, right?”

“Yeah, that’s… I mean, wow. Alex can’t even get me that many passes.” Lily left the implication of her comment unsaid. Franco had gone above and beyond—he wanted you here more than anything. “Well, anyway, I’m sure the girls would still love to meet you!” she smiled. 

It was nice to have a friend other than Franco in the paddock. You passed the dinner telling funny stories back and forth about Franco and Alex’s embarrassing karting moments. The Williams team was beginning to feel like family.

Back in your hotel room, the chaos of the day faded away into a calm silence. You opened your journal and wrote about everything that had happened since you had left his drivers room. Again and again you returned to that sentence, now scratched out, but finally, you had to accept what you had so long avoided, what everyone around you could see plainly.

So you took your pen and wrote one last sentence of the night:

I am in love with my best friend, Franco Colapinto. 

[cult-of-husbandos]

yami ai [yandere] - Hot Yandere Singles Near You

synopsis: you click on a random pop-up ad and are visited by weird smiling man in suit.

genre: pure crack (like fr), fluff, tbh there's not really a plot

word count: 4.4k

warnings: implied stalking

Isn’t insomnia just the worst? Like, seriously? What’s the point of being a human being with antiquated thoughts and impressive cognitive and motor skills when your brain fights you on the most basic stuff. For example, like sleeping!!

You must’ve refreshed YouTube and Twitter over a thousand times. Over 8 billion people in the world and there’s no new content anywhere? You groaned and jumped back over onto Twitter, silently praying and pleading for something new to show up on your feed. Maybe a wacky billionaire got eaten by a mob of homeless people or maybe a news article about a Floridian doing something gross and outrageous and virtually impossible.

But nope. Nothing.

Not a single thing piqued your interest. You groaned again and looked at the time on your dimly lit phone. It was past 2 a.m. and you were bored out of your mind. You then lazily clicked on Google and sighed.

‘Maybe someone posted a new fanfic over something…’ you hoped. And even if there wasn’t a new fic uploaded you’ll just read the old ones you favorited. Perhaps reading something might put you to sleep.

As you were scrolling through your favorite ship tags, you were startled by a pop up ad covering up 90% of the screen and flashing emojis.

“Ugh… seriously?” you groaned. “They should make ad-blockers on phones for this shit.” You squinted at the bright lettering emanating from your phone even though it was at the lowest brightness setting.

⚠️(99+) Hot Yandere Singles NEAR YOU⚠️

Yandere’s…? Singles? Near me?

The pop-up ad had flashing peach, cherry, and eggplant emojis with a water splash emoji at the end to signify… well, you’re not sure what it was trying to signify. On the sides of the ad, it showed pictures of very gorgeous men and women, all striking suggestive poses. Underneath the title was a small summary that read. ‘These lonely desperate yanderes wanna meet you! They’ll most likely find you anyway, but wouldn’t you rather be the honey to a bee instead of a fly? Try it NOW for FREE!! No hookups! No catfishes! No sign ups!’ Then below that were a few empty boxes to fill out requiring your personal information.

"..."

Was this a porn ad?!

No way at 2:45 in the freaking morning did you just get a porn pop-up ad while googling mafia au fanfiction. This has to be some kind of joke. Maybe it was prank and someone was just fucking with you. And how and why would there be 99+ yanderes in your area?! You couldn’t be surrounded by that many psychos. Could you? Whatever the case may be, it was now past 2 a.m. and as the rule of life states ‘Nothing good happens after 2 a.m.’. You don’t know if it was the lack of sleep or just reckless curiosity, but you gave your shoulders a shrug and mumbled a ‘fuck it’ as you put in your information. Your name, number, gender, age, preferred sex, email, and mailing address. As you clicked submit and continued scrolling, you gave very little thought about how this would go down.

On one hand, the ad turns out to be real and you get a partner out of this. Or

You get quartered, stalked, doxxed, and murdered like the dumbass you are for putting your personal info into a sketchy porno-like pop-up on Google.

Or, it turns out to be a prank and some asshole sitting in a basement has a good laugh at you.

Meh. You’ll deal with it in the morning.

*****

You were jolted awake with the sound of rapid knocking coming from your front door. You groaned into your pillow as you tried to ignore the person desperately wanting your attention from outside your apartment. You finally got some sleep only for it to get interrupted. Only minutes and minutes of continued knocking without any signs of letting up, you decide to get up and shoo away whoever it was. You wearily grabbed your phone to check the time.

8:02 a.m.

You huffed as you stormed towards the front door.

“If this a fucking Jehova’s Witness, I swear to god…” you grumbled. You swung open the door and threw the person a harsh glare, only to be met with popping sounds as confetti flew in your face.

“Good morning, my dear darling~!! Are you ready to begin on the road to happiness and love?” the stranger shouted a far too happy tone for 8 in the morning.

You took a step back in shock, fully awake as you waved and dusted the confetti from your face and hair. You looked the strange man up and down. He was smiling ear to ear and wore an expensive looking suit to warm for the summer weather. A briefcase stood right beside him along with dozens of other party poppers and a white plastic bag filled with brown bottles with oddly enough no labels on them. You looked at the man’s face. He was surprisingly attractive and without a single flaw anywhere. His hair was jet black and shined a very prominent gloss. You were honestly kind of embarrassed to be seen by him when you looked like such a mess. The man let out a chuckle.

“Oh my.” he said, gently putting his hand over his mouth with vague concern. “I hope I didn’t startle you too much. I probably should’ve sent you an email notifying you of the time I was coming. I’m sorry that must’ve been a troubling awakening.”

You quirked your eyebrow and took another step back, grabbing onto the doorknob so that you could slam it right in his face if things got too weird.

“And… you are?”

“Oh my, oh my. Where are my manners? How careless of me to assume.” The man bowed with a curtsy. “I am the ‘Matchmaker’. My job is to pair two people with their fated soulmate and give each of my clients their happily ever after. It’s very nice to meet you, (Y/N) (L/N).”

You felt a chill crawl down your spine. How’d this weirdo know your name?! You tried to close the door as fast as you could, but the ‘Matchmaker’ was even faster. He clicked his tongue at you, his smile unchanging, but his eyes seemed to harden his gentle tone.

“My, how rude. Is that any way to treat a guest?” He let out another chuckle. “You’ll never find love that way.”

“H-How did you know my name?” you stuttered.

Again, another chuckle. What was so funny? “My dear~. You gave it to me.”

What the hell was he talking about? How could you have given this creep your name? Was he a stalker? A junkie? Noticing the confusion on your face, the man spoke up again.

“Oh my dear. Do you really not remember?” he asked, tilting his head in feign innocence. “You filled out an ad to meet singles in your area. And here I am, coming to fulfill that ad.”

You eased up on the tension you had on the door and tilted your head in surprised confusion. “That was a real ad?”

The man stood up tall and smiled earnestly again. “Of course. However, you are the first person to actually fill out that ad. Really, this is more of a celebration to both of us.”

Huh, so the pop-up ad was real.

Not a prank.

And now there’s a psycho standing at your front door promising you a partner from an actual yandere.

“I honestly thought it was a prank. I mean… yanderes? Isn’t that just an anime thing?”

“Oh, I assure you my darling.” he said with a snide smirk. “Yanderes are real. And when they heard about signing up, it was like tossing chicken in a sea of alligators. All clamoring to be the first person to take a bite.”

Okay, gross but kind of sweet.

“May I come in?”

“Huh?”

“Well, my dear. It would be easier to come in and talk through the process of how this goes instead of standing here.”

“Oh, um… Suuuree-”

“Great! My my darling~. What a lovely home. Very well decorated.” The man quickly strided into your house and made himself comfortable in your living room, looking as if he was analyzing every detail about your house.

Richard Chase would’ve loved your dumbass.

You shut the door and followed him into your own apartment and offered him a seat on your couch. Might as well, right? You’ve gone this far and you're still alive.

“Umm…” you hesitantly shifted from one foot to another. “Do you… um… want some coffee maybe? Or tea? Maybe a glass of water? If you haven;t eaten breakfast yet, I whip you up something.”

Yeah, sure. Feed the man with only a title for a name and waltzed right into your house after showing up after you put in your personal information into a random pop-up ad at 3 a.m. promising you a happy life with hot single yanderes in your area. You are the pinnacle of human genius. The apex of natural selection. The creme de la creme of common sense. Charles Darwin would be so impressed.

“How thoughtful. Just coffee would be fine. Thank you.”

After brewing a quick pot, you sat across from the man facing him heads on and gently slid him his steaming cup. After a while of taking little sips in weird silence, he spoke up again.

“Before we continue, I’d just like to say: Thank you so much for applying for this wonderful opportunity!! Not many people would click on an ad requiring doxxing information to meet their soulmates! Again, congrats on being our number one willing client!”

“Willing client?” you asked.

“Well, of course! For some reason, humans seem to really love the idea of a yandere until there’s one standing on their front porch!” he laughed.

“Humans? I’m sorry. Are you not human, Mr…?”

“Ah ah! No need for formalities! Just ‘The Matchmaker’ or simply ‘Matchmaker’.

“Oh, so… you don’t have a true name? Or is that just a title?”

“Oh darling~.” he sang sweetly. “That’s none of anyone’s fucking business, is it?”

Your eyes widened and let out a nervous chuckle. “Okay, got it! Just Matchmaker. Lovely name. Adore it. In fact, I love when strange mysterious men only give a title for a name.” What the hell does that even mean? You had no idea what you were saying anymore.

“Heh, smart cookie.” He winked. “Shall we begin?”

“Um, yeah, so… how does this work exactly?” you finally asked.

“Simple, my dear darling. Think of this as an ordinary matchmaking appointment. I have a stack of potential soulmates all ready to meet you. I have the same information about them that I also have of you. Each potential soulmate also has a picture so if you don’t really feel up to meeting face-to-face just yet you can look over the picture and see who captures your heart.”

“Face-to-face? So these guys have my picture too?” “Of course! And might I say, those pictures don’t do you justice. In all my years in this business, I’ve never seen such an obsession and overload of potential soulmates for just one person.”

You lightly blushed. “I-I don’t know about that… I barely got any sleep last night so I probably look like a zombie right now…”

“Au contraire, Darling. You look absolutely stunning. If I weren’t such a professional I would burn all these forms and claim you as my one and only~.”

You felt your entire face flush red as the Matchmaker pierced your soul with his longing gaze. It felt like he was staring into your very essence – like he could read you like a book. You nervously cleared your throat and shifted your eyes away, hoping to bring down your blush.

“S-So! Um… should we get started?” you stuttered, internally kicking yourself for being so easily flustered by a couple of smooth words. Ted Bundy would’ve had a field day with your dumbass.

“Ready whenever you are, my dear.” The Matchmaker set his briefcase on your coffee table and pulled out a single form and slid it over towards you. “Let’s start off with an easy one.”

You looked at the form along with the picture of a very attractive man paperclipped to the paper. According to the form, his name is Hamazawa Akita. He was in his early 20’s, had a varying array of hobbies from hiking to scuba diving, and was very much in love with you.

“Well, what do you think?”

“Hm, well, he’s very cute. And very active.”

“Would you like to meet him?”

“Um, sure… is there a number I could call or…?”

“No need! We can bring him in right now.” The Matchmaker snapped his fingers and you whipped your head towards the front door where Akita strolled in, all smiles. You looked back over the Matchmaker. “Did I not lock my door? Wait. More importantly, how’d he get here?!”

The Matchmaker smiled. “My dear, when you’re in this business you pick up a few tricks.” He then turned his attention towards Akita who now stood in the middle of the living room. “No. 1 would you like to introduce yourself?”

Akita stood tall and his eyes seemed to beam directly at you. “My name is Hamazawa Akita. Ever since I saw your picture I’ve dreamed about sweeping you off your feet and claiming you all to myself!”

“So, like 8 hours ago?”

“Yes!! But those hours feel like years when being away from you.”

“Hmm.”

“So, what do you think? Are you feeling the butterflies?”

You looked up Akita up and down and your face twisted as if you’re deciding on whether or not to buy a car or a piece of clothing.

“Um, to be honest my guy. I’m not feeling it.”

“Huh?”

“Excuse me, my darling?”

“Weeeelllll…. I mean, don’t get me wrong! You’re very attractive and your words are sweet, but I don’t think I believe any of it. Like, you just admitted to wanting me all to yourself only 8 hours ago, but I don’t really feel anything. Not even a shiver.”

The Matchmaker and Akita both looked at each other like they weren’t really expecting that. With a quick wave of his hand, Akita slumped his shoulders and headed towards your front door. You shouted out an apology as the dejected suitor walked out.

“Well, I didn’t expect that. I don’t normally get such competent clients. At least those that get past kicking and screaming.” The Matchmaker grinned. You shrugged.

“I guess I just know what I like. All the anime I’ve watched kind of gives you that high standard of what makes a yandere a real yandere, y’know?”

He nodded. “I cannot agree more. Well, we have plenty more where that came from. Shall we continue?”

*****

Papers were strewn across your coffee table in an unorganized fashion as both you and your estranged guest were tired beyond belief. You had no idea how many hours had passed nor how many guests were in and out of your apartment. You’re honestly surprised none of your neighbors complained or called the police. Your apartment would’ve looked like a clown car if anyone had been watching from the outside. You honestly lost count after No. 256. You let out another yawn and laid on your side trying your best to keep your eyes open. Maybe 2 hours of sleep wasn’t enough for the multiple interviews you had to conduct today. Maybe your 9th grade biology teacher was right. Maybe you are going to die alone. A weary sigh brought you from your thoughts.

“My, my. You are definitely the most high standard client I’ve ever had. I didn’t think we’d get to the triple digits in just one day.”

You also sighed and sat up in your seat. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just… All these guys are cute and all, but they’re all lacking something. They’re either too forceful or not forceful enough. Too wimpy or too strong. Or too obsessed or just incredibly so lovesick that I feel like they’d fall in love with just about anyone who’d be willing. Ugh, why can’t this be simpler like adopting an animal?” You groaned. You also hadn’t thought this would take this long. You didn’t really think of yourself as having high standards until today. Until today, you’d be happy with anyone close to you in age and with a heartbeat. Who knew picking out a yandere soulmate would be so challenging. And who knew that there’d be so many willing participants! The Matchmaker reached into his briefcase and pulled another stack of forms and slid them over to you. There must be at least over a hundred papers in front of you. How did he have so many?!

“How about we switch things up, hm? You’ll look over the papers and when you see someone that catches your eye, I’ll bring him in.” He made it sound like you were adopting a dog or a cat. But if this made it go any faster, you were willing to try.

After about 3 more stacks of papers, you were starting to lose hope and patience. When you got to the last few papers, you stopped dead in your tracks. Woah baby!

“Woah baby!” you exclaimed.

“Did you find someone you like?” The Matchmaker asked hopefully.

“Oh yeah. This guy.” You showed him the paper. He furrowed his brows a little.

“Are you sure? I don’t think I remember this man. His name and face don’t seem familiar.”

“Really? Maybe he’s a late entry or something?”

Matchmaker stroked his chin in thought. “I’ll go check it out. Be right back, dear. I’m very sorry for this inconvenience.”

You waved off his apology with a smile and he left your apartment. You then leaned back with a groan. You just wanted to find your ‘soulmate’ or whatever and move on with this day. You closed your eyes for a second and waited patiently for Matchmaker to come back.

Tap tap tap

Just like deja vu, you were awoken by rapid knocking. Except this time it wasn’t coming from your front door.

Tap tap tap tap

It sounds like it’s coming from… your window?

Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap

You quickly got up and walked towards your window and opened it.

“Woah!” You jumped back a little as you were met face to face with the man that you had picked out and that the Matchmaker went to go find.

‘Wow… he’s even cuter in person!!’

He let out a delicious chuckle and gave you a charming smile.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, darling~. Hehe, though I think that fear in your eyes was worth it. So adorable~.” For the second time today, a complete weirdo stranger has made you blush. Wait…

“Wait! I don’t have a balcony and I’m on the third floor. How’d you-?” You peeked over the window to see if he was pulling a Criss Angel.

“I have incredible grip strength~.” he winked.

“Oooh I’m sure~.” you swooned. For a weirdo, he was a smooth talking weirdo.

“Oh, I got these for you, sweetheart~.” He pulled himself up and sat on your windowsill and pulled out a bouquet of roughly cut flowers from behind him. You gasped and grabbed them, giving them a smell.

“These are my favorite!! How did you know? I don’t think that was one of the pieces of info required for the Matchmaker.” you asked.

The stranger chuckled. “Easy. I never filled out that stupid application.”

You looked up from your flowers and titled your head like a confused puppy.

“I already know everything about you. I don’t need a stupid piece of paper to tell me what I already know about you. Like, how I know that you have secret sweets hidden all throughout your room. Or that whenever you have a good day you love to sing Stray Kids.”

He inched closer to you as you backed up further into the room.

“You won’t eat frozen pizza, but every so often you eat a lobster roll from a food truck from Gary on Main St.. You have life destroying evidence of your boss that you’re planning on using on your last day. You’ve seen the Barbie movie 5 times. And…”

You felt your legs hit the couch and tried to keep yourself from falling onto your back like a defenseless turtle.

“Your favorite anime is… Dar-” You quickly covered the stranger’s mouth with a furious blush.

“I only watch it ironically!! I don’t love it! It’s not my favorite!” you quickly clarified. The gravity of the situation was made perfectly clear after that. This man really knew all about you. Honestly, you’re so loud that you’re pretty sure that people on the ground outside could hear you singing. And you don’t really pay attention to your surroundings so it's easy for someone to know that you eat from a food truck every other week at specific times. But, knowing your favorite secretly watched anime?

“W-Who… are you?” you stuttered. You’re pretty sure you already knew the answer.

He laughed and you felt his lips brush against your fingers. You blushed and tried to pull back, only to be stopped by his hands.

“Sweetie~. You already know who I am.” He grabbed the paper from the stack and put it next to his face. “See? I’m Yami Ai. Your soulmate.”

Before you could even process what was happening, you were gently pushed onto the couch with Yami hovering over you holding your hands beside your head. You couldn’t stop the blush erupting from your neck to your face. Your heart was beating way too fast and your stomach felt jumpy and queasy. Butterflies.

You cleared your throat. “Um… so, if you didn’t fill out a form then how come The Matchmaker had your profile and picture? And why didn’t you use the front door?”

Yami smirked and leaned in closer. “It’s pretty simple to pull off when your apartment does security checks on new guests entering the building.”

“But, my apartment doesn’t–” you stopped. “Ooooh… So you impersonated a security guard, slipped your profile and info into his briefcase, and were planning on showing up as one of the potential singles? That’s… convoluted. But, smart.” You shrugged. “And since you obviously knew which floor I was on and which window was mine, I assume you’ve been watching me for a while and were watching me last night when I couldn’t sleep?”

Yami laughed again. “You are so smart~. You really catch on quickly, don’t you?”

You shrugged again with a nervous smile. “W-Well, obviously not smart enough to not put in my personal info and have strange men come in and out of my apartment.”

Yami was quick to turn his gentle smile into a hard, harsh frown. His grip on your wrists grew tighter and you winced under the force he placed in you.

“You know, my darling. It’s partially my fault. If I hadn’t backed out and taken you that night, you’d never be in this situation. With those men eyeing you up and down like you were theirs. Having that smiling freak calling you ‘dear’ and ‘darling’ when only I can call you that. I was planning on getting rid of the competition, but you did that for me.”

Yami loosened his grip and lifted you up, staring into your eyes. You blushed again.

“Rejection after rejection. Some guys didn’t even get 2 words out before you turned away. Of course my darling would only want the most perfect man. Isn’t that right, darling~?”

“Hehehe~” you leaned in with a giggle. “You’re so sweet~.”

You are such a baby for flattery.

*****

“My dear darling, I’m so very sorry for the inconvenience. I didn’t mean to be gone for so long, but I could not find this person you–” Matchmaker explained, rushing in and stopping dead in his tracks when he saw both you and Yami, the man who left 30 minutes ago to go find, eating breakfast in the living room.

Sitting in his lap.

And feeding each other.

“Oh! Matchmaker!” you exclaimed, quickly swallowing your food. You didn’t notice Yami tightening his grip on your waist nor did you notice the cold glare and tense atmosphere enveloping the room. “Look who I found~.”

“I see…” he said hesitantly.

“He climbed up the building and came in through the window.”

“My~. How romantic~.” he sang. “So, I take it that you are satisfied with your soulmate? Or… do you wish to continue searching?” he asked teasingly. Before Yami could say anything, you quickly spoke again.

“Yep! I’m sure.” You ruffled Yami’s hair and nuzzled up against him. “I wouldn’t trade him for anyone else.” Yami hugged you closer to his chest as you giggled. “Plus, he makes the most amazing breakfast in the world, so extra points!” you cheered. You reached out towards the Matchmaker’s briefcase.

“Here you go! I put all the papers back in for you.”

Matchmaker quickly walked over and grabbed his briefcase along with your hand. “Well, my dear. It’s been an honor. You are truly the most remarkable and memorable client I have ever had.” he said with a bow and made his way towards the door. However, before leaving he chuckled and looked back at the both of you. “Although, it’s a shame,” he sighed. “Maybe if I had stayed, I would’ve snatched you up myself.”

And with a final loud laugh, The Matchmaker disappeared, but not before Yami stood up to lounge and attack the fleeting man like a guard dog. You snorted and caressed his face to calm him down. “Relax, Yami. He’s just joking.”

“Well, I hated his joke. Fuckin’ freak…” he grumbled. “And it’s Ai. You’re mine now. You should get used to calling each other by our first names.”

You smiled and leaned against him. “Okay, Ai. Whatever you say.”

“And if a man comes to the door, never EVER answer it, got it!”

“Mhm.”

“I’m serious, darling. I’ll gouge their eyes out right in front of you.”

“Yes sir.”

The rest of your life was going to be very interesting. Suck it, Ms. Braxton. I guess you’re the one dying alone. Because you have a yandere boyfriend! And she has gonorrhea. Bitch.

---

a/n: this is so shit. i'm so sorry that i've been MIA for a while. work has been pretty crazy and i haven't really felt much motivated to write. however, i'm trying to get back into it now. with this goofy shit. kind of a joke piece, but i needed to write something silly and not serious at all to relax. (also i've been writing since 4 a.m., so...) anyways, i'm going to try and update regulary or at least post something.

Here's my YouTube. I make anime playlists.

[grimm-writings]

I really like how you write. Can I have some Tall-man Chilchuck crumbs?🙏

don’t see, don’t think

…ft! chilchuck x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, reader is having a crisis, reader’s race and race change is left ambiguous (but implied to NOT be a half foot)

…wc! 571

…notes! JUST IN TIME BEFORE THE EPISODE ITSELF GRAGGGGHH!!!! apologies for the wait anon!!! enjoy your crumbs

Don’t see it, don’t think it, don’t see it, don’t think it, don’t see it—

“Why are you staring at the wall?”

The deeper voice is so unfamiliar that it leaves you nearly leaping into the air like a cat.  You know it to be Chilchuck, and yet you can’t bring yourself to turn away from said wall you were fixating your eyes on.

“...Just coming to terms with this new form is all,” you awkwardly excuse yourself.  More like you’re trying to come to terms with Chilchuck’s new form.

You were close with the lockpick, more than you were with anyone else in the party.  Never in your life did you really come to think of Chilchuck as attractive.  Maybe it’s the difference in race?

Those damn changelings, if it weren’t for this new perspective on the man you would have been fine.  You wouldn’t find yourself thinking about how he has a stubble, slightly darker than his reddish-brown hair.  You wouldn’t notice the fact he’s definitely taller than Laios was as a tall man.  You wouldn’t be melting at how his voice altered, and you absolutely wouldn’t be trying your best not to be a complete mess around him.

Chilchuck doesn’t seem to notice, though.  At least with this sudden change, his senses dulled.  So seems to be the case with how observant he is.  “Figures,” he sighs, folding his arms.  “It’s definitely a lot to get used to.”

As his sentence draws close to a murmur, Chilchuck’s voice lowers a bit more in pitch.  You had to stop yourself from facing the wall and banging your head against it.

Good God, why did this have to happen to you?!

“Mhm!” You agree with a hum.  If you don’t open your mouth, there isn’t a way for you to say something you’ll regret.

That doesn’t stop Chilchuck from going, “hey,” and you find that he’s adjusting your bodies around in a way that you can be eye level, face to face with one another.

Don’t see it, don’t think it, don’t see it, don’t think it, don’t see it— 

His eyes are still that familiar colour, a dark brown with a slight shine to them.  The lines underneath them crease as he sends you a fond smile.

“Don’t let this freak you out too much, yeah?”  Chilchuck reassures you, but you’re hardly listening as you note now at the short distance he has a dimple on his chin.  How cute.  “We’ll find some way to get rid of the, uh, ailment, ok?”

He laughs a little at his own choice of words, and you try to do so too.  It comes out awkward and forced, but Chilchuck just gives your shoulder a squeeze to show that it’s alright.

He walks ahead, leaving you at your wit’s end.  This truly is the death of you.

Izutsumi doggedly (quite literally) reaches your side, if only to give you a judgemental sidelong glance.

“Didn’t think you’d have a thing for rugged guys you’d usually find in a back alley.”

You turn around and wrap your hands around Izutsumi’s snout, keeping her mouth shut as she flails in anger.  This definitely needed to be fixed soon, and quickly too, lest you lose your senses entirely.

Trying not to look at Chilchuck definitely isn’t doing you any favours anymore either; his face is etched into your mind permanently (and will be for days after.)

[solarmorrigan]

Everybody's Dying to Be Here

For the @steddie-spooktober day 12 prompt: Graveyard Rated: T | Words: 1561 | CW: suicidal thoughts (vague; you don't necessarily have to take it that way) | Tags: pre-relationship, Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson friendship, Steve Harrington needs a hug, Eddie Munson is a sweetheart, in his own way, post-season 2 AU Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Eddie has been coming to the graveyard to smoke for years.

It’s not really that he can’t smoke at the trailer; his uncle knows he smokes, has bummed cigarettes off of him before, says he figures there are worse habits for Eddie to pick up, it's just that it’s peaceful there.

There are hardly ever people around, and if there are, they’re not really inclined to talk. Otherwise, there’s a lot of open air, room to walk, green grass, interesting headstones if Eddie’s in the mood to look, and there’s a tree that sits at the top of a gentle slope of a hill that offers a nice view of the surrounding town that can almost make Eddie forget how much he hates the place.

It’s Eddie’s own personal haven.

At least, he'd thought it was.

“You’re in my spot,” Eddie says, staring down at the interloper.

Steve Harrington, who is sitting on top of Eddie’s hill, under Eddie’s tree, turns his battered face up towards Eddie, squinting at him in the sunlight.

“Are you dead?” Steve finally asks.

It’s Eddie’s turn to stare, uncomprehending, at Steve. “Nooo,” he says slowly. “Are you concussed?”

Steve holds up his forefinger and thumb, pinched together to indicate a little bit, and it’s been almost two weeks since he first showed up at school looking like someone had tried to turn his face into mincemeat, the bruising now all sickly yellow and brown, and Eddie realizes he has no idea how long concussions last. A while, apparently.

“Anyway, if you’re not dead, I don’t think you can have a spot in the cemetery,” Steve says with a shrug, and–

Well.

“Touché,” Eddie says, plopping down next to Steve beneath the tree.

He pulls his cigarettes out, shakes one from the box, and then, because his uncle didn’t raise a complete savage, he tilts the box at Steve in offering. Steve begs off with a shake of his head and Eddie shrugs, lighting up and taking a drag.

“So,” he says on his first breath of smoke, “what brings King Steve out among Hawkins’ illustrious dead?”

For one, long minute, Steve says nothing, and just when Eddie thinks he’s being ignored, Steve lets his head fall back against the tree and murmurs, “Just wanted somewhere quiet to be, I guess.”

“Oh? The life of partying royalty getting to be a bit much for you?” Eddie asks.

He knows he isn’t being entirely fair; Steve’s never really done anything to Eddie, personally, and for the latter half of last year and the beginning of this one, he’s actually been pretty decent. Fairly quiet, if nothing else, mostly hanging off of Nancy Wheeler and keeping his head down. In any case, Steve doesn’t seem to take offense, just lets out a little breath of unamused laughter and continues staring out over the town.

“Kinda realized that most of the people I used to party with were dicks, and I didn’t want to be around them anymore,” he says. “Nance– she and I aren’t… together anymore, so I can’t really hang out with her. My dad’s still pissed at me for getting into a fight, so I can’t stay home. The twelve-year-old who thinks I’m responsible for him now is actually cool, but god he can be loud, and I just wanted some quiet, so… here I am.”

There’s… a lot to unpack there. Like, so much to unpack. Eddie has questions. Many questions.

Somehow, though, he doesn’t think his prying would be appreciated, so all he offers is, “Damn. Scraping the bottom of the barrel, then, huh? Hanging out with the school freak.”

“To be fair, I didn’t actually know you’d be out here,” Steve says, sending Eddie a sidelong smirk to let him in on the joke. “Didn’t know I was stealing your spot, either.”

Because Eddie can hardly be mad at him for it now, he just shrugs. “Eh. It’s a free graveyard. I think.” Eddie pauses, blinking down at the headstones spread out before them. “Damn, do you think you have to pay to be buried? That’d be fucked up.”

“I have no idea,” Steve says. “Pretty sure you have to pay for a tombstone, at least.”

“Shit. Society, man.” Eddie shakes his head. “Finding ways to squeeze money out of you even after death.”

“I guess,” Steve says vaguely.

He doesn’t really seem like he’s interested in continuing the conversation, and Eddie guesses that’s fair enough. He’d come out here expecting to be alone, and Eddie had come out expecting the same. He’s not even sure why he’s trying to engage Steve Harrington in conversation at all, except that there’s something a little– lost about him right now, and that’s always drawn Eddie in like a cat to a sunbeam.

That doesn’t mean Steve actually needs him, though, so Eddie lets them both lapse into silence.

He’s just about finished his cigarette when Steve speaks again, almost startling Eddie.

“D’you ever think about where you’d want to be buried?” Steve asks.

“What, like when I die?” Eddie asks, feeling a little slow to pick up on this new turn Steve’s taken them down.

“Yeah,” Steve says.

“Uh… hopefully far away from the shithole,” Eddie says, stubbing his cigarette out in the dirt beside him. “I want to get the hell out of here before I die.”

Steve hums. “Bet you will,” he says after a moment, and that surprises Eddie even more than his original morbid question.

“You figure?” Eddie says, and he’s trying for sarcastic, but he thinks something genuine might have snuck its way into his tone.

“Sure.” Steve shrugs. “You’re ambitious. You’ve gotta be some kind of smart, all those speeches you’re always giving. You want it badly enough, I bet you’ll get out of here.”

“I think the Hawkins Public School system would beg to differ with you on most of those points, Steve,” Eddie says, and Steve shrugs.

“Fuck ‘em, then,” he says simply, and that’s–

In its own, weird way, it’s more faith than anyone other than his uncle has shown in Eddie in what seems like a long time, and Eddie’s not sure how to feel about it.

Steve, oblivious to the way he’s currently shaking Eddie’s worldview, goes on. “I think I want to be buried over there,” he says, pointing to a spot on the west end of the graveyard.

“Near the fence?” Eddie asks, following Steve’s finger.

“Yeah. Looks nice over there. Not too crowded, and there’s roses. Or, I think that’s a rose bush.” Steve squints down at the shrubbery for a moment before shrugging. “Whatever. It just looks nice.”

“I guess,” Eddie says slowly, turning to look at Steve, who doesn’t look back.

“I should probably tell someone,” Steve says, almost as if he’s talking to himself now. “My parents would probably pick somewhere stupid to stick me.”

And– shit.

It doesn’t really sound like Steve’s talking about some hypothetical future time when he dies of old age; it sounds an awful lot more like he doesn’t even expect to outlive his parents – like maybe he’s talking about a much less hypothetical soon.

“You, uh… spend a lot of time thinking about when you’re gonna die?” Eddie asks, and immediately wishes he could suck the words back up, because that is a terrible way to continue this conversation.

Steve shrugs, turning a wry look on Eddie. “Kinda hard not to.”

“Right. Right.” Eddie nods, and – what the fuck?

What the fuck? Is he talking about everything that’s happened recently – all the weird shit in town, or the way he keeps getting his ass kicked, or the way his life has imploded and now he’s thinking about–

“So what’s your plan for the rest of the day?” Eddie blurts out.

“I don’t really have one.” Steve shrugs. “Figured I’d just stay out here for a while.”

Eddie frowns. They’re well into November by now; Steve is wearing a nicer coat than Eddie’s, but it’s still cold out. Too cold to just be sitting outside indefinitely. Eddie’s certainly not going to sit outside indefinitely, but he also gets the feeling that maybe this guy shouldn’t be left alone right now, which is precisely why he finds himself offering, “You wanna come back to mine and watch a movie?”

Steve turns to stare at Eddie, as if this is the weirdest part of the conversation they’ve had.

“Why?” Steve asks.

“Maybe I’m bored, and you’re the most interesting thing that’s happened to me all day,” Eddie says, gratified when Steve gives him a little laugh. “It’s more fun watching a movie with someone, anyway. What d’you say?”

Steve watches him for a moment longer, as if he’s searching for something, trying to puzzle Eddie out. He seems to find whatever it is he’s looking for, though, because he finally nods.

“Yeah, okay.”

They stand from beneath the tree and make their way back down the hill, and Eddie hopes his utter confusion isn’t showing on his face as they go. He has no idea how his afternoon reached this point, and he has even less of an idea of what the hell he’s doing, but, as he glances back at Steve, the other boy seems a little lighter as they walk, and he decides that he’s absolutely made the right decision.

[strang3lov3]

Sore Loser

Roman’s face is soaked in your wetness, he’s made a mess of himself devouring you whole. Once you’re close, he pulls away, triggering a cry of frustration from you. “Now? Forgive me yet?”

“No,” you seethe.

Tags - stepdaddy!roman, smut, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, dirty talk, nipple sucking + titty play, waluroman roy, uhhhhh idk. The usual. You know what you’re here for. A/N - just needed to get this out of my system. did i promise jack delroy freak nasty period sex, yes. but i just have a lot of stepdaddy thots and it's a curse, really. you understand. Thank you @endlessthxxghts for editing!!

Stepdaddy!Roman Masterlist

A box of half-eaten pizza and breadsticks sits on the ottoman that is pushed out of the way, and you’re on the couch, not allowing yourself to sit comfortably as Roman uses his Nintendo Switch Joy-Con to adjust the aim of the digital bowling ball he’s about to roll. Roman, of course, insisted on being player one, not that his choice gave him the upper hand in the game at all. He’s at a pathetic score of 83 right now. You’re at 237. 

Roman launches his ball, not hoping for any score in particular. It’s the last round anyway. Aaaaand…right into the gutter. 

“This is such fucking bullshit,” Roman whines, tossing his red Joy-Con onto the couch before taking his seat next to you. “I know it was before your time, but bowling on the Wii was much better than whatever this shit is.”

“You’re just pissed off that I’m winning,” you retort. “And I was around for the Wii, asshole. I used to make you play Mario Kart with me.”

“Then you’d know how much better it was,” he says. “This shit? This is garbage. Why are there obstacles, what even is that?”

You roll your eyes and grab your own teal Joy-Con, then stand up to play your last turn. After lining up your ball, you’re in the process of letting it go when Roman leans forward and squeezes your ass, startling you and in the process, fucking up your roll. “Dickhead,” you huff. You play your second turn and earn yourself a spare anyway, winning the game. 

Roman watches you spin around with a big, stupid grin on your face. You lift his hand and force him to hold it there so you can high-five him. “Ow,” he complains, with no real hurt in his voice as he squeezes your hand, holding you there. “Be gentle with me. I’m a very fragile man, kid, you know this.” 

“Oh, I know it.” 

Roman rolls his eyes. Walked right into that one. “Watch it,” he warns, dropping your hand. He flutters his fingers in the absence of your touch, missing the weight of your hand in his palm. “New game. I’m sick of Switch Bowling.” 

“Only ‘cause you lost.” 

“You know, they say you’re either good at bowling or you’re good in bed. So really, if we think about it, who’s the real loser here, huh?”

Roman’s taunt earns him a shy smile tugging at your lips as you avoid meeting his gaze. He stands up and pats your cheek gently, feeling the heat of the blood rushing through your skin. “I like that Mario Kart idea. Haven’t played that one in a while,” he tells you, making his way to the entertainment center where you keep all of the Switch games. He kneels on the floor and pulls out Mario Kart from a glass cabinet, opens the game case and puts the little card into the console, running a hand through his sleek hair as the game boots up. Roman takes his place on the couch, and you slide off of it and sit between his legs on the floor, resting the side of your face against his knee. 

Roman’s player one again, of course. The cheerful music plays as Roman picks a course. He carefully browses through each one, but settles on Coconut Mall anyway because he knows it’s your favorite. And when it’s time to choose your character, Roman snags Princess Peach, the character he knows is yours. 

“Hey, give her back. Peach is mine.”

“No, I uh- I don’t think so. Pretty sure Peach has always been mine.” 

“That’s not true, Roman, you’re always Y-” you turn around and look up to see Roman snickering and smiling down at you. “Fuck it. I’ll be Yoshi, then.” You move the joystick on your controller and choose Yoshi as your character.

“Oh, like hell you’ll be Yoshi.” Roman reaches down and attempts to pry your Joy-Con from your hands, but fails. “Fuck you. Give him back or I’ll play as Wario and make everything worse for us both.”

“Heh,” you laugh. “Waluromey.” 

Roman rolls his eyes, dramatically shaking his head. “Cute. Whatever, I guess I’m Peach,” he mumbles, moving to the screen where you design your vehicle. “She suits me, don’t you think? Because I do have the perfect peach. And eggplant. And cherries.” 

His words get a rise out of you, just as he intended. You tell him how much you hate him and all the stupid shit he says and yet, your smile betrays you. Your cheeks and ears warm as your mind drifts to all those euphemistic parts of him. “Start the fucking game, Roman.” 

And so he does. Roman’s unfamiliar with the controls of Mario Kart on the Nintendo Switch, so he has trouble taking off. You race right to first place, lapping him in no time. 

Fucking Joy-Con. Too small for the hands of an adult. Roman’s brow is pinched in concentration, and he’s trying his best to ignore your giggles and the way you brag and taunt him, calling him technologically inept and cracking jokes at his middle-aged-ness. Fuck you. You think you’re hilarious when you finish your third lap and Roman’s still on his second, getting lost in the split screen. He spent a good three minutes focusing on Yoshi rather than Peach.

“They say if you’re bad at Mario Kart, you’re also bad in bed, you know. And you’re in twelfth place.” 

Roman kicks you in the thigh, knocking you off balance a bit. “Fuck off.” 

Your fingers crawl under the fabric of his pants and you curl your hand around his leg, waiting patiently for him to finish the race. Finally, he does. “Wow, Roman. That was awful, even for you. I didn’t even have to blue shell you for you to fuck up that bad.” 

Roman laughs mockingly. “Shut up and pick another course. We’re playing again.” 

You pick a waterpark course, one you’re less familiar with. You turn around again to look at Roman, who seems aggravated. His competitive streak. You point to his A button on his Joy-Con, “Press this at like, two, when the game is counting down. You’ll take off quicker.” 

“Obviously,” he mumbles. “Did you just figure that one out?” 

Roman uses your tip when the game starts again, and he’s doing better than he was before, until you hit him with a squid. And then one of those lightning bolts. And a banana peel, and a blue shell. Once again, you’ve lapped him before he’s even completed his first. And Roman can’t seem to hit one of those magic, rainbowy question mark boxes that you’ve been hitting in spades, giving you all sorts of overpowered one-ups on him. 

So Roman decides he’ll utilize his own power-up. 

“I could beat you playing one handed,” he says. 

“What, so you can jerk yourself off with the other?” 

“Close. Do you care if I try?”

You nod, barely paying attention to him. Roman holds his controller in one hand, leans over you, and with his free hand reaches into your henley pajama top, cupping one of your breasts.With his thumb and forefinger, he pinches your nipple gently, twisting it between the two digits. You gasp in response to his touch, biting down on a moan. “Rome…”

“You said I could try,” he replies, semi-focused on you, more focused on Mario Kart. 

“But this - ah - you’re ch-”

“Cheating?”

“Yeah,” you moan. 

“What are you gonna do about it?”

You drop your controller and your head tilts back into Roman’s lap, resting against his thick bulge. With your eyes closed, you relish in the feeling of Roman teasing you, now paying attention to your other breast. He squeezes it firmly, then circles your areola with his fingertip. It pebbles under his touch.  

Roman’s playing with one of your breasts, and you reach for the other. You moan and gasp loudly, “Shhh,” Roman hushes your noises. He gropes your breasts for a few moments longer, then takes his hand away to focus entirely on the game in front of him. He’s been playing it steadily this whole time, now having worked his way up to fifth place. Roman tsks. “Fuck, look at that. You’re in twelfth place. Oof.” 

“Roman, you-” you interrupt yourself to groan in irritation, then straighten out your shirt and pick your controller up to race through the course. “...fucking dick.”

 Roman laughs. He’s managed to collect blue shells and banana peels and even worse, he’s managed to learn to use them. And now, he’s worked his way up to first place while you’re still stuck at last. 

The game ends. He wins, of course. “Wow, kid. That was awful, even for you,” Roman mocks, rubbing it in. You turn around to glare at him. “What?”

“That wasn’t cool.” 

“I thought it was cool.”

“It was bullshit,” you complain. “You’re bullshit.” 

Roman exaggerates a pout and does little to hide his smirk.  “So upset when you don’t get your way,” he murmurs through his smile. 

“Fuck off. I’m pissed off at you now.” 

“Yeah,” Roman says, sliding off the couch to meet you on the floor. “You tell me, sweetheart. Really let me have it. Tell me how fucking pissed you are.” 

“I am! It was supposed to be a fun game and you just had to behave like a fuck- oh,” you moan, because Roman’s lifted up your shirt and is now toying with your nipples again. He lays you on the carpeted floor, circling one of your nipples with his tongue as he pinches the other. 

“You were saying?”

“You…”

“Sore loser,” Roman mumbles, now sucking on the sensitive bud. He kisses the surrounding flesh, kisses his way across your chest to repeat the action. And you’ve gone silent. Not really, as you’re still moaning and whining his name, but you’re out of any words beside Roman. 

He kisses down your torso and pulls the drawstring of your pajama bottoms, then slides your pants down your legs and kisses over your mound, pushing your knees toward your chest. Roman looks down at your body, all soft as you’re folded in half for him, pussy glistening with creamy ribbons of your arousal. “You’re fucking soaked,” he says, his breath hot against your core. “So sensitive. You don’t take much at all.” Roman wastes no time in eating you, licking you from bottom to top, eliciting a loud cry of his name. “Listen to that moan. Holy shit,” he laughs. 

Roman traces your folds with the tip of his tongue, then circles it around your clit. “Do you forgive me?”

“No,” you breathe. 

“Hmm.” Roman sucks on your clit, causing you to writhe and squirm beneath him. “How about now?”

“No.”

He pushes two fingers into your entrance, curling them rhythmically as he licks you. You arch into him, hands tangling in his hair. He loves when you do that. 

Roman’s face is soaked in your wetness, he’s made a mess of himself devouring you whole. Once you’re close, he pulls away, triggering a cry of frustration from you. “Now? Forgive me yet?”

“No,” you seethe. 

Roman only smirks. He kneels above you, pulls off his shirt and shucks his own pajama pants down his legs, where his cock slaps against his stomach. He strokes it once, twice, then lines it up with your entrance and slides inside you. “Now?”

“Mmm, not q- not quite,” you hum as he bottoms out, instantly building a pace. You wrap your legs around his torso and rock your hips into each of his thrusts.

“Just give it a minute. You’ll get there.”

Roman kisses you, swallowing your moans. You hold his bare shoulders, nails digging into his skin. He braces himself on his forearm as he rolls his hips into you, and wriggles his hand in between your bodies. While rubbing your clit in circles, Roman fucks you perfectly, deeply and at a swift pace. 

Your moans become frantic, and Roman feels your heat pulsing around him. “You close?” he pants.

You nod. “Yeah.”

Roman nods back, his movements never faltering. In quick time, your orgasm courses through you. You come hard on Roman’s cock, your pulsing walls coaxing along his own release. He comes inside you with moans of his own, whispering your name as his thrusts slow to a still. 

With Roman still inside you, you and he catch your breath together. “There. Now do you forgive me? Did I make it all better?”

“No,” you tell him. “I still hate you.” 

Roman rolls his eyes. “You’re impossible,” he tells you. He removes himself from you with a soft groan, quickly cleans you both up, and queues up another game of Mario Kart. This time, he plays fair. 

-

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[bring-forth-his-sac]

World of Trouble

Summary: Your Halloween costume leads to a punishment from the man himself...

Pairing: Saviors! Negan x f!reader

Tags: !NSFW! spanking, fingering, p in v penetration, (consensual) punishment sex, Negan being a cocky asshole, orgasm denial, praise kink, teasing, dirty talk, pet names, little bit of cum play ?

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: ok this fic is choppy, janky and just all over the place. I wrote it in a day and a half so it was a complete rush cause I want to get it out for Halloween so yeah, pls be kind

You thought it was funny.

After all, don’t people need a joke in times like this? Isn’t everything bleak enough? That was your reasoning when the idea initially popped into your head for the perfect apocalyptic Halloween costume.

Despite Negan being a man who loves to tell a joke, no matter how risqué or inappropriate the timing, you weren’t sure how Negan would react if he's the butt of one. 

Ever since late August, you had been wavering on the idea. Some nights you were adamant that your choice in Halloween costume would end in you being bound to the fence alongside the dead. 

In the midst of your internal debate, while out on a run, you came across the ultimate sign that set aside your indecision. 

A leather jacket.

It wasn’t an exact replica of Negan’s and it hung loosely on your frame but it was the push you needed. You already had a white t-shirt in your limited closet and you’d pay the few points needed for some black jeans. 

A red scarf was harder to come across but most definitely a necessary piece. Ever since the leaves began to fall off the trees surrounding the Sanctuary, Negan’s red scarf has been making an appearance, tucked neatly in by the collar of his leather jacket.

You had to be inventive, scavenging an old sweater and cutting it up to create a makeshift scarf that at least remotely resembled the original.

And finally, the pièce de résistance. Your trusty companion. Your very own, bootleg Lucille. 

Thankfully barbed wire wasn’t the problem. In the Sanctuary, something like that can be found stored in at least half of the supply closets, hoarded away for the fence or in case the real Lucille needs a quick spruce up.

The real issue was a baseball bat. It wasn’t as if the Saviors were regularly raiding school gyms or stadiums, and so there was hardly any sports equipment for you to choose from.

It was a struggle and eventually, you ended up with a hockey stick that some Savior decided to put into the armoury.

It wasn’t Lucille but hell, it’d have to do.

Everything was ready. You even found some long expired brown eyeshadow and decided to dab some on the bottom of your face so it looks like you have a beard. And so your look was complete, possibly the very first costume to ever exist of your fearsome leader.

And how long did it last?

40 minutes. It didn’t even take a full hour of you strutting around before word got back to Negan. 

When you imagined the impending confrontation, you assumed it would be a lieutenant telling you off as Negan spewed insults over a walkie talkie.

It’s only now, when you hear the low grating noise of Lucille dragging along the ground, growing nearer and nearer, do you realise you won’t be getting off so easily. 

Slowly turning, you bring your hockey stick decorated in barbed wire up to your shoulder, mirroring a pose you’ve seen him do plenty of times.

“Well, ho-ly shit! I don’t know whether I should be smug or freaked the fuck out!” he declares, his gaze wandering down your outfit “you’ve really out done yourself this time, doll”.

You shrug, hoping that if you seem casual about this then he’ll let it slide. “It’s Halloween” you say bluntly, hoping that’s the only excuse you need. 

Some Saviors linger around you both, a mixture of excitement and anticipation radiating from them at your Negan costume and Negan's ambiguous reaction.

“And you thought the creepiest thing you could dress up as is me?” he narrows his eyes at you, subconsciously mimicking your own pose as he lifts Lucille up onto his shoulder. 

You open your mouth to respond but no words come out, a slight sense of dread setting in. A beat of tense silence hangs in the air, thick and charged, as if the whole Sanctuary is holding its breath. 

A deep chuckle cuts through the silence as Negan clasps a hand on your free shoulder. 

“Well, fuck me, I am honored!” he beams “you even smeared some shit on your face so ya look like you got a beard! Now that’s the kind of dedication I like to see from you sorry fucks!”.

He steps away from you, letting his hand drop off of your shoulder as he raises his voice, making sure the others hear.

Relief washes over you. You could feel the tension draining from your muscles at his approval. 

“I love it,” Negan says, his voice growing serious again “but Lucille? Now Lucille here isn’t a big fan of copy cats and that limp dick excuse of a Lucille you got hanging over your shoulder? That shit just makes her see red”.

Any warmth in Negan’s eyes fade. His brows knit together as his mouth becomes a hard line, replacing any sense of humor. “And she thinks this is worthy of a punishment” he adds.

Fuck. 

Negan doesn’t wait around for your reaction, turning on his heels as he barks for you to follow. You do so hesitantly, knowing there’s nowhere to run and that this is something you’ll unfortunately have to face head on.

This isn’t the first time you’ve done something daring while living in the Sanctuary. Although, this is the first time you’ve seen him genuinely annoyed. 

Usually Negan has always appreciated your boldness, especially when most of the Sanctuary’s residents are too scared to even look him in the eye. In the past, you’ve tried to poke and prod at Negan’s authority by complaining about sanitary products costing points or the lack of blankets available to the workers during Winter. 

Grimacing to yourself as you follow behind him, you wonder if you’ve finally taken it too far.

Marching up the flights of stairs to his private quarters, you try to ignore the confused looks of others as two Negan's pass them by. 

Despite knowing you’re in for a world of trouble, a small smirk tugs at your lips, glad to have brought some sense of silly excitement to the Sanctuary.

You try not to show your shock as he brings you to his bedroom, making sure the door is locked behind you. You only take a few steps into the room before you stop and simply loiter there, watching as Negan sets Lucille down by the doorway to the ensuite before going inside. 

“Y’know there are no actual rules about impersonating so I don’t think you have the grounds to punish me” you attempt to defend yourself, setting your fake Lucille against the wall.

“Talking back won’t help your case,” Negan calls out.

You scoff out a laugh as you get distracted by his room. A part of you can’t help but wonder why a man like Negan would want half the things that litter the area: trophies from other people’s past glory, a vase, a houseplant.

“Yeah well, it’s just some fun, it’s—“ suddenly Negan’s there, right next to you with his gloved hand too close for comfort.

He cups your face, squishing your cheeks together as his other hand brings a wet cloth to your face.

“And get that shit off your face,” he does the job for you “my beard ain’t that fuckin’ bad”.

You stay quiet, not wanting the embarrassment of trying to speak with your cheeks squished and a cloth rubbing at your face.

Once he’s satisfied your face is clean, he simply drops the cloth to the floor. Negan looks down at your attire “Well hot damn, good news is my style is incredibly sexy… but no matter how hot you look, thanks to me, you know I can’t let your shit slide anymore, sweetheart”.

You frown, a challenging look in your eyes.

“I’m serious, you’re pissing off too many Saviors with the shit you pull,” he yanks off his scarf, letting it land on the couch “and now, with this, you’ve forced my hand”. 

Next, Negan takes off his leather jacket, inadvertently showing off some tattoos as he delicately places it on the back of his armchair. 

“You know I gotta give you some kinda punishment… but that don’t mean it can’t be enjoyable for the both of us” he continues.

The smirk on his face says it all. 

And just like that, it all makes sense. Of course he would bring you up to his bedroom and not to the cells when this is what he has in mind.

You shrug, some of your spirit returning in the form of a playful smirk “What? You gonna spank me?”.

“You want me to?” He unbuckles his belt and slowly pulls it through the loops of his jeans, the material hissing as it moves. 

Negan has never been a man to bluff.

You try to act nonchalant but you can feel your cheeks heating up. “Maybe,” you play it coy “will you iron off half my face even if I say yes?”.

Now it’s Negan’s turn to shrug. “That depends, this a trick or a treat?” he asks.

Normally you’re not this bold. Maybe leather jackets give people unlimited confidence? That seems to be the only solution as you walk over to his couch and place both hands on the armrest. You bend forward just enough for Negan to see your intent.

You glance back over your shoulder, your eyelids at half mast as you throw him a sultry look. Negan keeps his eyes locked on to yours, his boots heavy on the floorboards as he walks up behind you.

The leather of his glove growls as he places his hand on the centre of your back and pushes you down further. 

There’s no point in ignoring how your pussy throbs as he makes sure your head is against the couch cushions and your ass is up in the air, the armrest providing the perfect support.

“That's what I thought“ Negan praises, his hand slowly making its way down to your ass. 

“And I thought I was getting punished, not a yoga class” you goad.

Negan doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t even wait or let the anticipation of his response build. He goes straight for it, smacking your backside hard enough to leave a handprint. 

A gasp leaves your lips, the sensation more stingy than it is painful. You have little time to prepare yourself as Negan wraps his belt around his hand.

“Just relax, baby,” he instructs softly, his tone in complete contradiction to his actions “and be grateful I’m letting ya keep your jeans on… for now”. 

Despite your thin layer of clothes acting as a barrier, the belt bites into your flesh. The sound of the belt whistles through the air before meeting your ass with a sharp crack. He does it over and over again, alternating between cheeks. 

You hiss at the sudden heat, your body clenching as the pain morphs into a dark, intoxicating pleasure.

“Well, damn!” Negan exclaims approvingly, momentarily stopping “you’re taking this like a trooper, ain’t ya?”. 

He pauses and you wonder if he’s waiting for a response. You swallow, your throat dry from the amount of gasps you’ve let out in such a short span of time. 

But before you can answer, you feel it. Not the belt. Not his hand delivering another slap. This time, it’s him; proud and unabashed as he brings his clothed crotch right against your ass. 

Suddenly, the belt didn’t seem too hard.

“I think it’s about time I see my work of art” he declares, pressing his hips forward to make sure you feel his entrapped boner.

For a man so brutal, Negan’s touch is gentle as his fingers glide around the waistband of your jeans. He lets his touch linger there for a few moments, waiting for your sign of approval. 

You’re well aware of Negan’s ego and how he wants to know just how badly you need him. He yearns to see that raw desire. As much as you want to banter back at him again, your brain fogs with need and you push back against him, your sore ass rubbing against his bulge.

He responses with a grunt as his hands slowly leave your waistband, too distracted to continue. Negan has something else in mind as he gives a slight tug of your hair, gesturing for you to stand upright.

You don’t even have time to turn to face him, your ass still snug against the tent in his pants as he roughly pulls you in for a bruising kiss.

His hand fists your hair, holding you in place as he devours you. Desperately trying to keep up, your breaths come out in short, sharp pants between desperate kisses.

Negan keeps his hand in your hair, using it to manoeuvre you away from his couch and over to the bed. The only time he takes his hands off of you is when the back of your legs hit against the soft bedsheets. 

The second you’re able, you take off your leather jacket, watching Negan follow suit as he begins shedding his clothes.

Your jeans are the worst to take off, the rough denim scratching it’s way across your sensitive backside as you quickly discard it. Once you get to your bra and panties, you stop, wanting Negan to take off the rest.

Negan doesn’t have the same sense of modesty as you, not stopping until he’s completely bare. Sitting back on the bed, you bite your lower lip and shamelessly dart your eyes across his body. 

The dark curls that cover his chest, the tattoos that scatter across his body, the happy trail of body hair that lead you lower, to where he stands erect and proud.

You gulp.

Negan joins you, kneeling on the bed in front of your body as he studies you. With a hum, he shakes his head. “No, this won’t do,” he tuts.

As the words hit you, a wave of self-consciousness washes over you. Whatever excitement that was evident in your face slowly drops away and you do nothing but blink up at him, waiting for Negan to continue.

“Yeah, I’m gonna want to fuck you in the leather jacket,” he elaborates “now that would be hot as all hell and I ain’t letting that jacket go to waste on my bedroom floor”.

You rolls your eyes as you let out a breath. “You fucking asshole” you huff, well aware that Negan was being vague on purpose just to toy with you. 

He chuckles, unable to deny your accusation. “Careful baby, you start insulting me like that and you’ll be getting another spankin” he threatens playfully, though you know he’s being serious. 

Negan leans down, almost hovering over you as his hands gently touch your bra straps. 

“But first, you got more layers to shed” Negan lets each strap fall to your arms before his fingers deftly work the clasp of your bra, the metal giving way easily. 

Without looking where it lands, Negan lets your bra drop to the side. You feel utterly exposed to his hungry gaze, watching as he drinks in the sight of you. 

A groan leaves him as he reaches out, his calloused hands gently cupping the weight of your tits. His thumbs brush over your pert nipples, making your squirm at the contact. 

“You going to play with my titties all day?” You question, hoping to spur him into action.

“It’s a punishment, doll,” he reminds you, bending to the side to pick up your leather jacket “if I decide all I want to do is stare and watch you finger that sweet little pussy till it’s raw, then that’s what’ll happen”.

“And is that what you want?” You ask, trying to maintain any self control you have. Part of you would actually apologize for your costume if it means getting his dick closer to your pussy.

“Nah, I want you to sit back and really think about what you did,” giving the jacket a quick shake, he spreads it out over your shoulder “think you can do that for me, darlin?”.

Making sure the jacket is secure over your shoulders, you adjust it to make sure your tits are still in view. “I guess I could try” you reply in a flirtatious tone, scooting back against the pillows.

“On the bright side, even though this is a punishment, I’m still a fuckin’ gentleman,” he says with a proud grin. 

You're quick to notice how his hands inch up past your thighs and towards your panties. Hooking a finger underneath them, Negan gives a slight tug “So I’m gonna need to loosen you up before I fuck you senseless”.

Narrowing your eyes at him, you gently lift your hips. That cocky smile never leaves his face as Negan slowly drags your panties down your legs. In an instant, they’re gone from view and end up on the floor alongside the rest of your clothes.

Negan’s eyes lock onto your core, unable to help himself as he reaches out and parts your folds.

“Fuck, you’re that wet already?” he says it like a question despite the answer being on his fingertips. You bite your lip as his fingers brush against your wet, swollen flesh. 

With a groan, Negan plunges two fingers into your warmth, scissoring them apart to stretch you out. You moan out, your back arching as he sets a steady pace. 

“Y-yes,” you gasp out when the pad of his thumb finds your clit “keep doing that!”.

Negan curls his fingers upward, targeting your g-spot. The look on his face is like a kid at Christmas, completely elated to have his fingers deep in your pussy.

He adds a third finger, pumping them in and out of you, listening to your moans and gasps to gauge how close you are. Leaning down, Negan meets your arched body and nips at your breasts.

His mouth brushes against your skin as he tuts “C’mon now, don’t tell me you’re about to cum already!”.

You nod frantically, hands clutching at the bedsheets “Yeah, yeah I’m ready, I’m gonna—“.

Negan chuckles darkly and before you can reach your high, his fingers slow their pace.

“Oh, I don't know about that," he pulls his fingers out abruptly and gives your clit a light tap with them "you haven't earned that privilege yet, baby". 

Your mind is in a haze as he licks his fingers clean, tasting you. It takes a few moments for your brain to compute what he’s denying you. 

“I…” you begin but you trail off, your throbbing pussy begging for release “Negan, please, I— I get it, ok?”.

His smile softens slightly and if anything, it only makes you more wet. “I know you get it now,” he agrees, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek “maybe, sweetheart, just maybe… if you beg nice enough, I'll let you cum on my cock instead”.

You take his words as a challenge. Throwing out all sense of pride, you babble on “Please! Y-yeah I just, I need you inside of me, please Negan, I’ll be good”.

Every word goes straight to his dick. 

Negan takes a moment to truly savour the sight of you begging and writhing under him, knowing this is some top notch jerking material he can use at a later date. 

"Now that’s what I like to hear" he praises, positioning himself between your thighs. He grips your hips and thrusts into you in one smooth motion, filling you completely.  

Even though the sudden stretch and fullness makes you feel breathless, you practically shout out “Negan!". 

He pauses but only for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size. “Shhhhhhh,” he coos, his tone bordering on patronising “best be quiet before you wake up the wives, I’d hate to make those gals jealous”.

With a low groan, Negan begins to move, pulling back almost to the point of withdrawal before slamming into you once more. The leather jacket beneath you squeaks, each thrust pushing you further up the bed.

You can feel every inch of him, the primal yearning to cum on his cock sounding more and more appealing. Negan’s chest heaves as he labors over you, his body glistening as he works up a fine sheen of sweat. 

He doesn’t know where to look. His eyes dart everywhere, trying to take in each part of your body. Negan watches your face, the desperation to cum etched into each expression. Of course he watches your tits too, seeing them jiggle with each thrust he gives you. 

But his favourite part to watch is how well you‘re taking him. To see how your pussy welcomes each inch, letting him go flush against you every single time.

Bringing his gaze back up to your eyes, he pistons into you. “You’re close, I can feel it” he says with a clenched jaw, trying to hold off. 

“Please!” is the first word out your mouth followed quickly by a gasp as Negan goes for your clit again. His thumb rubs firm circles around the sensitive nub, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

You inner walls clench desperately around his cock and before you know it, everything crashes around you as you finally cum.

It’s as if your whole world blurs together and all you can focus on is his cock deep inside of you. 

Your pussy spasms violently around him, your vision whiting out as you moan loudly. Negan wants nothing more than to feel your sweet pussy throb around him but he knows he can’t hold off any longer. 

He quickly pulls out and thrusts into his hand to finish. His cock glistens with your juices before Negan unloads a thick load right onto your tits. 

You both pant, taking a brief moment to come down from your respective highs.

“Look at those beautiful titties,” Negan breaks the silence, admiring his handiwork “just when I thought they couldn’t look any better”.

Gently bringing a hand up, you run your finger along one of the lines he’s painted. “If I knew this is what the punishment would be, I would’ve pissed you off a lot sooner” you say breathlessly.

Negan hums as he flops down beside you, his eyes glued to how your fingertips play with his load. 

“Maybe you should’ve,” he replies “or maybe this is a sign that we should have some fun like this more often”.

You bite back your smile “Maybe it’s both?”.

“But y’know I can’t really just be going around screwing anybody and everybody,” he continues, making you pause, unsure where this is going “it’s bad for the image, y’know?”.

Your expression doesn’t change.

Negan takes in your confused look, trying to put the pieces together for you. “I mean, I don’t think the wives would appreciate me screwing around… unless, of course, I was screwing around with another wife…”.

“Oh”.

That’s all you feel as though you can say. A part of you immediately tries to rationalise this, trying to convince yourself that you’ve got the wrong end of the stick here. 

“Goddamn, did I really fuck you that hard?” Negan laughs “I’m asking you to marry me, baby, you should be jumping for joy right now!”.

You sigh, bringing your non-sticky hand up to your face “Negan…”.

“Negan, yes?”.

“Negan, I’m covered in your jizz and you’re seriously asking me this?! Now?!?” You exclaim. 

He stops for a moment, taking in your words. “Huh, ok, good point,” Negan grunts as he gets up, giving you a great view of his ass “I’ll go get some towels and you think about it, yeah?”.

Before you have time to reply, he’s walking into his ensuite “And I want an answer when I come back!”. He disappears into the adjoined room, turning on the light.

You lay back, allowing the pillows to practically consume you. The thought passes through your mind if only for a split second.

It wouldn’t be that bad to be yet another wife, would it? All you’d have to do is look pretty and have good sex… and never socialise with anyone else… and only be seen as one of his wives and nothing more.

You close your eyes, hoping that would prolong the impending decision.

Letting out a long sigh, you curse “Fuck”.

[floatmeintothesun]

How Genshin guys react to you calling them by their full names:

ok I know this isn’t original at all but I seriously loved this sort of concept and found it hilarious! I’m sorry to the person who originally came up with this but thank you for thinking of this wonderful idea!

tw: none

tags: a little suggestive (only implied), some nicknames, fluff, no gender mentioned

—

Diluc:

“Diluc Ragnvidr!”

Poor guy. His head instantly snaps to wherever you're standing, whether it be behind him, to the side, a full floor above, or underneath, Diluc will immediately twist in your direction.

(Ouch. I can hear his neck pain from here.)

He’ll be all worried, seeking you out and asking you if he’s done anything wrong, or if you need him for something important. You usually call him sweet little pet names and he’ll reciprocate, calling you his darling, my sweet, my dear, etc, more romantic gooey names, so something must be wrong if you're resorting to his full name, right?

He’ll be so stressed out in those moments when you haven’t cleared anything up. Give him cuddles after you tell him it’s just a prank, he’ll be relieved, but sulky and somewhat pouty. 

As he should be. You nearly gave him a heart attack, and not in your usual lovely way with your wonderful affection…

“Darling? Is everything alright--no, did I do something, not to your liking? Ah…a prank. I see…actually, come visit my office after work…you can say my name all you want there…”

Zhongli:

“Rex Lapis!”

Oh no. He’ll blink slowly, turning to look at you with curiosity and slight apprehension while he tries to figure out why you're using his Archon title. Sure, his name sounds wonderful falling from your lips but he can’t think of a reason why you’d use it now.

Do you require his assistance? Oh, you look displeased, did he do something that warrants your anger? Zhongli will stare at you placidly while you try your best to look angry at him.

He already has an idea that you're playing a prank on him, but just in case you aren’t he’ll just wait for you to break character. After a second your expression melts and he finds faint amusement as you sigh exaggeratedly as if he’s ruined the joke. 

Oops.

“Ah, my apologies, my dear. I had an idea that this wasn't quite as serious as your voice had made it out to be. You can be quite intimidating when you want to be, but let’s keep names like those in the bedroom, hm?”

Kaeya:

“Kaeya Alberich!”

He’s sitting up ramrod straight, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. What happened to the sweet little nicknames you usually call him? Wait—you sound a little angry, did he do something wrong?

“Yes, my dear,” He stresses those last two words, looking at you with unmasked curiosity. All the while he’s probably analyzing every conversation he’s had with you and trying to pick out the bits that could have offended you somehow. Although he may not show it, he’s subtly freaking out while you stare at him.

When you finally tell him that it’s a prank, a slow smirk will crawl up his face, his eye narrowing darkly because how dare you. He was genuinely worried that you were mad at him for whatever reason.

“Hmm…I’d much rather hear you calling me dadd--Hey! Don’t hit me…”

—

I’m down bad for these bitches lmao