#▲ SILENTLY JUDGING (crack) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sunni-stuff · 3 months ago

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People are judgmental. Some think they aren't, others don't mean to be, and then there are those who do it on purpose and simply don't care.

Parents are guilty of this.

Parents who pay you to teach their kids do this.

But the worst offenders?

Wives.

Particularly those with too much free time—gossiping Gertrude's who'd rather nitpick and judge than deal with the boredom of daytime TV and their kids screaming in the background. You’ve dealt with a handful before—a crack in the system that always rippled right under your skin whenever one of those vultures threw out a backhanded compliment.

“You’re so patient with the kids. I could never do what you do—how do you even manage?”

“Must be nice having all that time off during the summer. A little vacation every year, huh?”

“Teaching must be so rewarding. Though I imagine it’s not really about the money, is it?”

Each one, a subtle dig disguised as flattery, like they couldn’t help but twist the knife just a little deeper.

If there was one thing you’d learned about this job, it was to always kill them with kindness. The rumor mill among parents was ruthless, and the wrong rumor could ripple out and jeopardize your career. So, you’d mastered the art of the polite smile, the well-timed thank you, and the effortless small talk. It was a strategy that had served you well, keeping any overly curious mothers at bay.

Still, these women were relentless. They circled like hawks, always looking for an opening to pry into your life or make veiled comments about your parenting. You’d never given them the satisfaction of slipping up—until the day you almost did.

The sun was setting, the air brisk and tinged with the promise of winter as parents gathered their children. Little voices chattered away as teachers handed over day charts, neatly summarizing each child’s activities. Standing at the cubbies, you were bundling up Adira. Her small frame was snug in her sweater, jacket zipped up to her chin, and scarf tucked securely around her neck. She fidgeted as you worked, barely able to stay still with how much excitement bubbled in her tiny frame.

Her voice was high-pitched and animated as she launched into a story, her words tumbling over each other in her eagerness to share. “Messy man said, we play trains when he comes back!” she chirped, her dark eyes wide with delight.

You paused, your fingers lingering on the last button of her jacket. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you straightened her scarf. “Oh, did he now?”

Adira nodded vigorously, her curls bouncing. “Yep! He said, “Adira, we make the best train track ever!” Her imitation of Simon’s deep voice was laughably exaggerated, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.” We gonna play with the biiig track!” She spread her arms wide for emphasis, nearly toppling over from the effort.

The mention of Simon was enough to draw some attention from the other parents nearby. You could feel their eyes darting your way, their curiosity almost palpable. Simon’s occasional appearances to pick up Adira hadn’t gone unnoticed, and the whispers had already started. Who was this tall, broad man with a thick accent? Was he Adira’s father? A boyfriend? The air was thick with silent speculation.

Ignoring the countless eyes and ears listening in on your harmless conversation, you assured Adira. “Well, if messy man promised, he’ll keep it,” Simon had made it clear that he intended to be a constant presence in Adira’s life, and so far, he’d stuck to his word.

As you stood and picked up her small bag, a sharp voice interrupted the moment.

"Well, aren’t you just the picture-perfect little family?”

Your polite smile returned instantly, masking the irritation that flared at the condescending tone. Turning, you saw one of the daycare moms—Linda, if you remembered correctly—standing there with her perfectly manicured nails wrapped around her designer purse. Her son trailed behind her, nose buried in a tablet.

“Evening, Linda,” you said evenly, keeping your tone light. “How’s Ethan doing?

She waved a dismissive hand, her eyes already scanning Adira with that overly curious gaze that made your skin crawl. “Oh, he’s fine. But I couldn’t help overhearing... this ‘Messy man’ your little one mentioned. Is he... new in your life?”

Ah, there it was—the opening she was fishing for.

Adira, oblivious to the undercurrents of adult conversation, grinned up at Linda uncharacteristically, the joy she felt for Simon completely expunging her normal glaring behavior. “Messy man makes pancakes! But they go splat!” She threw her hands out dramatically, mimicking the chaos Simon often caused in the kitchen.

Goddammit, poor Adira revealed too much to the wrong person, and you could already see the cogs turning in Linda's head. Forcing a chuckle, you reached for Adira’s hand. “Messy man is her nickname for Simon, her dad. He’s stationed overseas, so she gets pretty excited when he’s home.”

Linda’s perfectly arched eyebrow lifted slightly, clearly surprised. “Oh, I see. Military man, huh? I suppose that explains why we’ve never seen him around.”

You gave Linda your most neutral expression, taking notice of the other moms matching from behind her. “He’s been busy, but he’s doing his best to be here when he can.”

"Oh, I see. I simply would've never guessed you were married. You never wear a ring," Linda remarked, her tone dripping with subtle judgment.

You knew what she was doing. It was a carefully laid trap, baited to catch you in a corner. If you rebuffed her comment, if you made a scene, it would only give her more ammunition to spread rumors. These women didn’t care for nuances; they thrived on gossip, and the topic of marriage—or rather, the lack of a visible wedding ring—would be a field day for them. They’d ride that horse straight to hell, and you'd be left cleaning up the mess.

With the growing number of parents in earshot, you understood that this wasn’t just a comment; it was a test. You had to choose your words carefully. It wasn’t just about keeping things smooth in the moment—it was about protecting your future.

You gave a small, practiced smile, maintaining your composure as you slipped Adira’s bag onto your shoulder. “I don’t wear my ring because I work with children. It could get caught in their hair, or worse, I could lose it.” You met her gaze with a calm confidence that bordered on dismissive.

“That’s understandable, dear. We all have kids after all!” Lina laughed, her tone attempting to sound warm and genuine, but it was too polished, too forced. The laughter rang hollow, like a poorly executed attempt to mask her true intentions. “Does this mean we’ll finally get to meet him at the fundraiser this weekend? We’ve all been here for so long, and not a single glimpse of your beloved other half. Right, ladies?”

Her words floated in the air, sharp with insinuation. The smile she wore was one of practiced sweetness, but the glint in her eyes was anything but kind. She knew what she was doing—attempting to pull you further into her web, hoping to get a reaction that would either reveal more or, better yet, give her ammunition to fuel the rumors she clearly wanted to start.

A few of the other women murmured in agreement, their eyes flicking from you to each other, already whispering amongst themselves. They were all waiting for a response, and the pressure began to build in the pit of your stomach.

“Yes, he is.” The words slipped out of your mouth before you could even process them, your own response surprising you as much as it did the group of wives surrounding you. You felt a jolt in your chest, your heart picking up pace as the reality of what you had just said began to sink in. What the fuck did you just do?

The laughter from Linda faltered for a split second, her eyes narrowing slightly as she processed your words. The others exchanged glances, some of their faces lighting up with an almost predatory curiosity, while others masked their thoughts behind polite smiles. You could almost hear the gears turning in their heads—oh, this was going to be something they could use.

The tension in the air thickened, and you suddenly felt exposed, as if every secret you’d carefully kept tucked away was now dangling on the edge of a cliff. You’d just handed them the perfect piece of gossip, but what would it lead to? Would they use it against you, twist it into something worse? You hadn’t planned for any of this—hell, you hadn't even planned on saying anything at all—but now that it was out there, you had to somehow steer this conversation.

You had to control the narrative, or risk letting it spiral completely out of your hands.

Your mind races, trying to formulate a response, but everything seems so loud—your thoughts, the laughter, the eyes watching you. How could you backpedal without it seeming like a lie? How could you walk that fine line between the truth and keeping your personal life hidden?

"Yes, Simon’s coming," you added quickly, trying to steady your breath. "But, you know... he’s not really into the whole fundraiser thing. He’s more of a stay-at-home guy, a bit of a quiet one, really. I’ll be there though, and we’re looking forward to it." You tried to sound casual, but the flicker of doubt in your voice betrayed you.

The women around you didn’t miss a beat, though. The moment had been set, and now it was only a matter of what they would do with the information.

“Well, I look forward to seeing you.” Lina’s voice was dripping with a false sweetness, and you could feel the weight of her gaze as she gave you one last look. Her eyes lingered a bit longer than necessary, as if trying to peel back layers, searching for some crack to exploit. Then, with a nod, she steered Ethan away, her entourage of women following closely behind, their chatter rising in the air like a distant murmur. The click of their heels echoed as they disappeared down the hall, leaving you standing there, frozen in place.

"And so, that's what happened," you finished, your voice trailing off as you leaned against the kitchen counter, trying to gauge Simon's reaction.

Simon blinked up at you from where he was sitting on the floor, his focus still mostly on Adira, who was happily arranging her toy train with her blocks, making a makeshift kingdom. He didn’t seem phased, just a little confused. "You want me to pretend to be your husband?"

The question hung in the air for a moment before he let out a chuckle, shaking his head slightly, his eyes filled with that familiar warmth. "Out of all the things I've done in my life, this has to be the funniest, love.”

You blinked, momentarily thrown by the unexpected nickname. It felt oddly intimate, a shift in the dynamic between you and Simon that you hadn’t anticipated. Love. It wasn't what you'd expected to hear from him, not in this context, not when everything felt so messy and uncertain. But there it was, slipping out so naturally from him, like he'd always called you that, like he'd been in your life much longer than he really had.

Your heart skipped a beat, the sound of Adira’s laughter in the background making the moment feel surreal. It should have been funny—this whole situation, with you essentially asking Simon to pretend to be your husband for the sake of those gossiping women. But instead, you felt something else, something soft and unfamiliar tightening in your chest.

“Did you just call me that?” You couldn't help but ask, your voice a little quieter than you intended.

Simon paused, his playful smile faltering for a second as he caught the look on your face. “I—yeah, I guess I did,” he replied, his tone a touch more uncertain now. He glanced down at Adira, who was happily stacking blocks at his feet, then back to you. “It was just a slip of the tongue. Didn’t mean anything weird by it.”

“I’m not exactly husband material, you know,” he added lightly, his voice teasing. “I’m more of a... messy man.”

You chuckled at that, shaking your head. "A messy man, huh?"

He nodded, grinning. “Yeah, but I’m good at it. Just ask Adira.”

Adira, hearing her name, immediately let out a squeal of approval. “Messy man!” she giggled, throwing a block in Simon’s direction, her tiny hand pointing at him with delight.

"So, what's the plan here then?" That easy grin back on his face, his eyes still dancing with humor, but there was something underneath it—something you couldn’t quite place. “You want me to just walk into a room and act like we’re a picture-perfect couple?”

The way he said it made you laugh a little, though there was a slight edge of uncertainty to it. You found yourself shifting uncomfortably, knowing you had no real plan for what came next. It wasn’t like you had a relationship with Simon beyond the occasional dinner and time spent with Adira, and yet, here you were, asking him to play a role in your life, one that might end up blurring lines you didn’t fully understand.

“Well, you don’t have to pretend, exactly,” you said, running a hand through your hair, suddenly feeling all the weight of the day settling in. “I just... I just need you to be there. You know, to back me up, to—” You paused, glancing over at Simon again. “I guess I just don’t want them thinking I’m alone in all of this. It’s bad enough that has already started.”

Simon’s gaze softened as he leaned back in his seat, watching you with a quiet understanding. "You're not alone in this," he said, his voice steady. “And I’m here. You don’t need a ring or a title for that.”

The sincerity in his tone made your chest tighten again, but this time it was different. His words weren’t a joke or a half-hearted attempt to make you feel better—they were real. He was offering something more than just pretending for the sake of others. He was offering his presence, his support.

For a moment, you forgot about everything else. The plans, the expectations, the pressure. Instead, all that mattered was Simon sitting across from you, smiling at you like you weren't asking for something too much, like it wasn’t strange to think of him in your life like this.

“Thank you,” you murmured. "Really."

He gave a small nod, then grinned, shifting his attention back to Adira, who had managed to get half the blocks stacked to an impressive height. “It’s nothing. Besides, I think Adira’s got the best part of this deal anyway.”

You glanced over at your daughter, who was watching both of you with wide eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. Adira was your source of strength, a beacon that pushed you forward, her smile alone gave you determination. “Alright, let’s figure out what married people do.”

"I know just who to call." Simon reached for his phone, the battered thing covered in scratches, an old case and sporting a broken screen from a hazardous drop. Upon seeing it, the first thought running through your head was, how the fuck was it still usable?

Price’s living room radiated warmth and history, a perfect mix of domestic coziness and military precision. The centerpiece was a sturdy stone fireplace, its mantle adorned with framed photos of Price and his wife, Melanie. In some, they stood arm in arm at scenic locations; in others, Price was in uniform, the edges of his cap sharp against the backdrop of distant skies. Above the fireplace hung a shadow box displaying medals and insignias, each one polished to a shine, speaking volumes about his service.

Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with everything from military strategy texts to well-worn novels. On one shelf sat a small globe and a model of a Spitfire plane, a nod to his admiration for history. A comfortable, overstuffed armchair, complete with a folded tartan blanket, sat near the fire. The coffee table bore faint scratches, evidence of years of use, and atop it lay an open newspaper, a mug of tea, and a small dish of biscuits.

You sat stiffly on the plush sofa, feeling distinctly out of place amidst this blend of home and honor. The ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner filled the silence as you watched Simon talk to Price in the adjoining kitchen. Occasionally, their eyes flicked toward you, and you pretended not to notice, your gaze wandering instead to a black-and-white photo of a younger Price standing with a group of soldiers, all grinning ear to ear.

The awkwardness of the situation weighed on you like a heavy blanket. This wasn’t exactly how you envisioned your day—asking Price, of all people, to help stage your fake relationship. But you were in too deep now to back out.

In the kitchen, Price rubbed his hand over his mouth, barely concealing the grin that tugged at his lips. A low chuckle escaped as he grabbed a cup of coffee, shaking his head at Simon, who stood across from him, arms folded, his expression far more serious than the moment warranted.

“You want me and Mel to help you two seem like a couple? That right?” Price’s voice carried an unmistakable note of amusement, his words tinged with disbelief.

Simon shifted his weight, rolling his shoulders back, clearly trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. "Yes, that’s the gist of it."

Price’s laughter broke free, a warm, hearty sound that echoed off the kitchen tiles. “Bloody hell, Simon. You’ve seen action all over the world, but this—this is what’s got you nervous?” He clapped a hand on Simon’s shoulder, his grin wide enough to light the room. “You’re in for a treat, mate. Melanie’s going to love this.”

From your seat, you caught Price’s amused glance, and you couldn’t help the way your face heated. This was going to be a long evening.

Price, still chuckling, crossed the room to the wide bay window, pushing it open with ease. The crisp evening air drifted in, carrying with it the scent of freshly cut grass and the faint hum of distant crickets. He leaned out slightly, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“Mel! Come on inside, love. You’ve got to hear this one,” he called, his voice carrying easily over the quiet of their backyard.

From where you sat, you caught a glimpse of Melanie in the garden. She was tending to a neat row of vibrant flowers, her hands gloved and a straw hat perched on her head. At the sound of Price’s voice, she straightened up, brushing dirt off her knees with a curious look on her face.

“Be right there!” she replied, her voice warm and lilting. She removed her gloves, tucking them into her apron pocket as she began making her way toward the house.

Price turned back to Simon, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “You better hope Mel doesn’t laugh you out of the house, mate.”

Simon groaned softly, rubbing his temples. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Price.”

Moments later, Melanie stepped into the living room, a radiant smile lighting up her face. She was the epitome of grace, her presence immediately softening the room’s atmosphere. Her gaze shifted between you, Simon, and her husband, her curiosity evident.

“What’s all this about, then?” she asked, removing her hat and setting it on a nearby chair. “You’ve got that mischievous look again, John.”

Price grinned, gesturing toward you and Simon. “These two need a favor, Mel. A big one.”

Melanie’s brows lifted as she looked between the two of you. “Oh? Do tell.”

Simon, looking equal parts determined and mortified, cleared his throat. “We... need help convincing a group of nosy parents that we’re married. Long story.”

Melanie’s smile widened as her eyes twinkled with amusement. “Oh, this sounds rich. Go on, I’m listening.”

You shifted in your seat, feeling the warmth of Melanie’s gaze settle on you. Her smile was kind but tinged with unmistakable amusement, and it was clear she was holding back a laugh as she took in your flustered state.

“Well,” you began hesitantly, clasping your hands together in your lap. “It’s a bit of a mess, really. One of the moms at the daycare cornered me, started asking questions about Simon, and… I might’ve let it slip that we’re married. Which we’re not. Obviously.” Your words tumbled out in a rush, and you glanced at Simon for backup. He was rubbing the back of his neck, caught between exasperation and amusement.

Melanie let out a soft laugh and gracefully sat down beside you on the couch. “Ah, I see. And now you need to sell the story before it falls apart. Oh, love, I’ve been in a similar pickle—not quite like this, but close enough.”

“See?” Price chimed in from his armchair, leaning back with an amused grin. “Told you Mel would get a kick out of this.”

Simon shot him a flat look. “Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for, mate.”

Melanie waved a dismissive hand at Price before patting your knee in a reassuring gesture. “Don’t mind him. Now, let’s think this through. If you’re going to convince anyone, you need to act the part. People pick up on the smallest details—how you talk to each other, how comfortable you seem together. If you’re too stiff, they’ll see right through it.”

Simon leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he nodded. “Alright, so what do we need to do? We’ve got about a week before the fundraiser, so I’m open to ideas.”

Melanie’s eyes lit up with a mix of mischief and determination. “Perfect. We’ll start with body language—how you interact without saying a word. And then we’ll move on to the conversational stuff. You’ll need to know each other’s habits, quirks, and all those little details married couples just know.”

Price clapped his hands together with mock enthusiasm, a cheeky grin plastered across his face. “Right, then. Let the awkward training sessions begin. This’ll be one for the books.”

You groaned inwardly, glancing between Simon and Melanie. This bizarre charade was only just beginning, and while you couldn’t imagine where it would lead, one thing was clear—you were in for a wild ride.

Happy new years friends! The holidays were a riot and I spent most of it spending time with family instead of writing as I felt kind of burnt out from writing in November, sorry about that but I hope this makes up for it.

@midnight-blue-moon-princess @pipedream411 @frogofrg @loonagabs @ghostlythots @vixenshiftsvrs @devoetee @shorty-tolentino @aethelwyneleigh27 @ayesha-eroticax3 @emilia527 @danielle143 @maniacalbooper @awildewit @gifted-aurora @teenagellamaangel @julesjunimos @tacticalgirlboss @midnights-song @suzuki-18 @t3a-bag @latencygirl @krispymagazinepizza-blog @harperdoodle @odettecigno @sockertop @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovelystarfish @my-little-evil-blog @imastorytelleritsondvd @l1lpip @cringeycookies @identity2212 @balletbiscuit @mulletmcghee @maciswack @littleracco0n @oliver-1270 @weemansoap @cryingpages @connorsui @beebeechaos @gluttonybiscuits @strawberrygato @sozainturpal @echo9821 @blinca @illusionistlover @blubearxy @superficialfeelings @new-author3 @xanvasy @oniiloma @bankaixx @evie-199 @notsochillnerd @thatpersonnamedrook @hon3y-cloud @jaguarthecat @reinekoya @apixasflora @a-lovers-card @gloriousloveduck @aetherthetrashpanda @princess-vibes25 @vickykazuya @enfppuff @liliannamae @m0chac0ffee @flamehero-phoenix @bean-cream @realizemandi97 @almostdecadentstarfish @lunamoonbby

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley #we meet again

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kashverse · 3 months ago

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sukuna does not believe in meditation. he doesn’t need it. why the hell would he? he’s the king of the corporate world, an adult, a man. he doesn’t need to sit around, close his eyes, and breathe. except today. because today? today has been absolute bullshit.

his idiot of a finance director nearly lost a multi-million deal, the company’s stocks dipped because some fucker spread false rumors about them on social media, and—oh, the cherry on top—some guy on his legal team apparently didn’t know what an NDA was. so here he is. standing in the pinkest fucking room on the planet.

the walls are covered in stickers and drawings that he’s been forbidden from taking down. shelves are lined with an army of sonny angels and labubus, their beady little eyes watching his every move like silent judges. and at the center of it all, sitting criss-cross applesauce with the air of a messiah, is his five-year-old daughter. she looks up at him, face blank.

"…you look grumpy."

sukuna sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "yeah, yeah. look—" he groans. "—teach me that stupid balloon thing."

his daughter gasps. "papa! it’s not stupid!"

"yeah, okay, whatever, just do it."

"say it’s not stupid first."

sukuna grits his teeth. "it’s not stupid."

"say it nicely."

he closes his eyes for a brief moment before exhaling sharply. "it’s. not. stupid."

"good!" she beams. "okay, papa. sit!"

sukuna lowers himself onto the plush pink carpet, legs crossed, hands resting on his knees. "like this?"

"mhm!" she nods. "now, close your eyes."

he grumbles but does it. "okay," she starts, voice soft and gentle, like she’s leading a spiritual retreat.

"now, papa, you have to imagine your tummy is a balloon."

sukuna cracks one eye open. "my what?"

"your tummy," she repeats firmly. "imagine it’s a balloon, papa. every time you breathe in, the balloon gets bigger. every time you breathe out, the balloon gets smaller."

sukuna’s brow twitches.

"papa," she warns. "do it properly." he exhales through his nose. "fine."

so he inhales—deeply—filling his lungs, trying to visualize his absurdly defined torso turning into a fucking balloon. and then exhales. inhale. balloon gets big. exhale. balloon gets small.

…okay.

…not bad.

"see?" his daughter chirps. "it’s good, right?" sukuna opens one eye.

"…it’s not terrible."

his daughter huffs. "say it’s good, papa."

"it’s good, papa."

"papa!"

he smirks. "what? you said to say it."

his daughter glares at him. "do another balloon breath before i tell mama you’re not listening." sukuna groans but obeys, exhaling deeply. he swears the labubus on the shelf look pleased.

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amirasainz · 4 months ago

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landos little sister is super shy and does get along with the drivers but she likes to just cling to lando the entire time which he loves but oscar. she meets oscar and suddenly she has a favorite driver that’s not lando and lets oscar hold her and spend time with her. lando is not even mad because his sister’s personality is so much like oscar he knew she would love him. the others drivers are pouting

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 🧡

A Silent Connection

Yn had never been one for the spotlight, much like her brother Lando. While he thrived in the chaos of the Formula 1 world, cracking jokes and charming everyone around him, Yn was content to sit in the background, quietly observing, far more interested in watching the cars roar past than in the whirlwind of media, fans, and endless chatter.

She’d always been a little shy, a bit introverted. As a result, the paddock felt like an overwhelming place to be. She only had one person to lean on: Lando. He was her anchor. They’d grown up together, and even though they’d both grown up in the fast-paced world of racing, Lando was the only person Yn felt truly at ease with. So, when he invited her to spend time at a Grand Prix, she didn’t hesitate. It was easier for her to be around familiar faces, the ones who understood her need for space.

However, this particular weekend at the Italian Grand Prix in Monza, things were about to change in the most unexpected way.

---

It was a quiet morning at the paddock. Lando had gone off for a meeting with his engineers, leaving Yn alone on the couch in the McLaren hospitality area. She was sipping her coffee, gazing at the monitors around her that showed various bits of the weekend's events. The usual buzz of the paddock filled the air — the low hum of mechanics working on cars, the excited chatter of team members — but to Yn, it felt like all of that noise was in the background, fading into nothingness.

She had found a corner to nestle into, out of sight, where she could drink her coffee in peace. She’d done this countless times, sitting quietly and observing her brother’s world from a distance. But today, she wasn’t the only one sitting in the corner.

The door to the lounge opened quietly, and someone walked in. Yn glanced up to find Oscar, the young Australian driver, who had just joined McLaren that year. He looked around for a seat and, seeing the empty space next to Yn, he slid into the couch next to her without a word.

Yn, startled by his sudden presence, looked over at him. He was sipping his own coffee, staring blankly ahead at the monitors, his usual calm demeanor settling around him. She didn’t mind the silence. In fact, she liked it. There was no pressure to talk, no need for awkward small talk. Just the comfortable sound of people moving around them, the occasional chuckle of engineers, and the faint noise from the track outside.

Oscar, sensing her gaze, gave her a brief, polite smile. She smiled back shyly but didn’t say anything. He seemed to understand that she wasn’t much for words, and he didn’t push.

For the next hour, they sat there in perfect silence, each with their coffee, neither of them feeling the need to fill the air with conversation. For the first time in a long while, Yn felt a sense of peace. She didn’t feel judged or expected to speak. She could just… exist.

The moment was simple but profound, and it became something they both began to look forward to. Every time Yn visited the paddock in the following weeks, Oscar was there. It became their routine: he would quietly enter, glance at her, and then take a seat beside her. They would drink their coffee in silence, occasionally exchanging a nod or a smile, but mostly just enjoying the calm company.

---

It wasn’t long before Lando noticed the change in his sister. While Yn had always been content to stick by his side, she was beginning to spend more time in the lounge with Oscar. At first, he’d assumed it was just a coincidence, maybe they were talking strategy or something related to the racing side of things. But then he saw it for himself one day — the two of them sitting there together, silently enjoying their drinks, looking comfortable in each other’s company.

“You’re spending a lot of time with Oscar lately,” Lando remarked one day, raising an eyebrow as he slid into the seat across from Yn and Oscar.

Yn’s cheeks flushed slightly, but she only shrugged, her usual reserved nature still evident. “He’s… nice to be around,” she said quietly, looking down at her coffee cup.

Lando chuckled, not surprised by his sister’s understated response. He knew Yn well enough to know that “nice” was about as much as she’d give away. He didn’t mind, though. In fact, he was happy. Yn had always been so shy around everyone, and now she had found someone she could spend time with without feeling pressured. He had always wanted her to feel more comfortable in the paddock, and Oscar was a good friend — even if he wasn’t the most extroverted person, either.

Oscar, sitting beside Yn, shot Lando a casual smile. “We don’t talk much, but she’s good company. It’s… easy to be around her.”

Lando grinned. “I’m glad to hear that, mate. You’re welcome to hang out with her whenever you want. Just don’t steal her away from me completely.”

Yn’s face flushed again, but she didn’t say anything. She liked how easy it was to be with Oscar. Unlike the other drivers who constantly tried to engage her in conversation or expect her to join in their chaotic paddock discussions, Oscar didn’t push. He never tried to draw her out of her shell, never made her feel like she had to talk. He simply existed in the same space as her, and that was all she needed.

---

As the weeks went on, the friendship between Oscar and Yn grew. It wasn’t loud or attention-grabbing, but it was real. Whenever she had a free moment, Yn would be found with Oscar, sitting side by side, watching the monitors or sipping on their coffees in the lounge. It was a quiet companionship that seemed to suit them both perfectly.

Oscar, who had always been a bit reserved, found himself becoming more outgoing around Yn. It wasn’t that she asked him to, but somehow, his presence around her made him feel more comfortable, more willing to open up. It wasn’t like he was suddenly a social butterfly, but he’d start offering her small bits of conversation, teasing her gently, and making her smile. She didn’t feel like she had to respond, but she appreciated it all the same.

“You’re not as quiet as you used to be,” Lando said one day, his grin wide as he watched Oscar try to make his sister laugh.

Oscar shrugged sheepishly. “Maybe I’m just getting used to the silence,” he said with a grin. “It’s nice.”

Yn, for her part, didn’t mind it at all. She liked how Oscar had become a bit more expressive for her. It was like he had learned how to communicate in the way she preferred — without overwhelming her with noise or pressure.

---

The other drivers began to notice the growing bond between Oscar and Yn. They couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous, especially since Yn rarely spoke to them. Even the more talkative ones, like Max and Charles, found it a little odd that she seemed to reserve her energy for Oscar. It was clear that they were becoming friends, and the rest of the paddock wasn’t quite sure how to react.

“Have you noticed how quiet she is around us?” Max asked Charles one day, watching from the sidelines as Oscar and Yn exchanged a few words before falling back into their familiar silence.

Charles nodded. “Yeah, it’s like she only talks to Oscar now. It’s… strange.”

Lando, overhearing their conversation, couldn’t help but laugh. “Relax, guys. She’s not interested in being the life of the party. She’s got her own thing going with Oscar, and that’s cool with me. I’m just happy she’s found someone she can be herself around.”

Max and Charles exchanged glances. Maybe they were just a little envious that Yn, usually so shy, had managed to form such a quiet but solid bond with someone. But Lando was right — it wasn’t about stealing attention. It was about finding peace.

---

In the months that followed, Oscar and Yn continued to sit in their corner of the paddock, side by side, silent but comfortable. Lando was happy that his sister had found someone who understood her, and the drivers, while a little envious, began to understand the unspoken connection between the two.

It was simple. It was quiet. But for Yn and Oscar, it was exactly what they both needed.

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #oscar piastri x norris!reader #oscar piastri x reader #lando norris x sister!reader #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x reader #norris!reader #xoxo babygirl 💋

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street-smarts00 · 3 days ago

Text

Wish You Were Sober

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Summary: The four times you confessed to Spencer while drunk, and the one time you did it sober

WC: 8.0 k

Tags/warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, lot’s of mention of alcohol consumption, regretting things said while drunk, drunk flirty reader, reader is emotionally constipated and doesn’t want to feel her feelings at first

A/N: chat I’ve been sitting on this for MONTHS it’s been marinating in my google docs for a while so hope you enjoy! I lowkey picture this happening in earlier seasons Spence but picture whatever you like ;) Beta read by the lovely @whats-yesterday00

The first time it happened, your feelings were just starting to peek through the surface.

You tried your hardest to shove them back down. Trying to convince yourself that developing the beginnings of a crush was absolutely not happening. But the alcohol opened the door you tried to close.

The whole team went out for drinks on a friday night. After multiple shots with Derek and JJ, plus the drinks you had before that, you were feeling quite a buzz. A buzz that always left you more flirty and courageous than normal.

You were busy dancing amongst the crowd with Penelope and JJ. The music was flowing through you all as it blasted throughout the bar. The movement and crowd caused the temperature to rise exponentially.

You wiped the sweat forming on your forehead and paused your dancing.

“What’s wrong?” JJ asked.

“I’m melting,” you answered, fanning yourself. “I gotta go sit down.”

Penelope blew you a kiss and said, “be back soon!” as you made your way to the table. You of course blew a kiss back to her.

After weaving through the mass of people, you approached the table housing the rest of your coworkers with a heavy sigh.

“You done partying already, pretty girl?” Derek teased.

“No, not yet. I just need a breather. It feels like 1000 degrees right now.” You sat down across from him and next to Spencer.

Derek’s attention was pulled towards someone behind you. A smirk grew on his face, “Oh Reid look, it’s that girl from earlier she’s back.”

Spencer’s face flushed at Derek’s remark.

“What girl?” you asked intrigued. You hated the taste that question left in your mouth.

“It’s nothing,” Spencer tried to brush off before Derek interrupted.

“She was flirting with him when he went up to the bar.”

“She was not!” Spencer squeaked.

Derek chuckled, “oh yes she was,” his eyes turned back to you. “She was definitely into him. And judging by the fact that she keeps looking over here, I think she wants to talk to him again.”

Spencer hid his face in his hands and quietly groaned.

“Why don’t you go over there? Go talk to her,” you encouraged while silently hoping he doesn’t leave the table.

Spencer lifted his face from his hands. His face was scarlet now.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but cut himself off. He saw your eyes staring back at him and felt his palms getting sweaty. He swallowed and stuttered on his words. “Because I wouldn’t know what to say. I can’t flirt.”

Derek leaned back in his chair, dissatisfied with his answer. “That’s bull.”

“It’s not bull.” That was probably the closest you came to hearing Spencer curse. “I’d probably make a fool of myself and say something stupid.”

“Spencer, you say a lot of things,” this earned a chuckle from Derek across the table, “But I don’t think you could ever say something stupid.”

Spencer tried to resist the smile spreading on his face from your compliment.

“Still doesn’t change the fact that once I open my mouth, she’ll lose all interest in me.”

A small pout appeared on your lips. “Well, I don’t see how a girl wouldn’t find you endearing.”

“Really?” He didn’t believe you.

“Yes! I thought you were so cute when I first met you,” your eyes brightened. “The day we met, I remember you were rambling about something and I just sat there amazed.”

He swallowed as his ears turned crimson. “You thought I was cute?” his voice cracked at the end of his question.

“Sweetie, I think you’re more than cute,” your voice lowered as you locked eyes with him.

“Morgan calls you pretty boy for a reason,” you continued with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Spencer’s heart damn near stopped. He knew your playful demeanor was from the amount of drinks you’d consumed, but still seeing you so openly attracted to him was making him delirious.

Morgan, of course, found the whole interaction to be the most intriguing thing he’d seen all week. The growing amused smile on his face was telling enough.

“Wow I think that girl from the bar has got some competition,” he teased.

You shrugged in response to his comment. “Maybe,” was all you gave as your answer. You stood up from your chair with Spencer's eyes still beaming at you.

“I’m gonna go dance some more,” you turned to the man next to you. “You wanna come with, pretty boy?”

Spencer struggled to get the words out for a few seconds. “I can’t. I don’t know how to dance.”

You tried to hide the disappointment on your face but the gleam in your eyes had dimmed.

“Maybe next time,” you replied before making your way back to the girls.

Spencer watched you walk away and disappear into the crowd. He then received an extensive amount of teasing and questions as to why he didn’t say yes from Morgan for the next 20 minutes while you were gone.

Over the weekend, the hangxiety set in. You layed in bed staring at the ceiling as the memories from Friday night flooded your mind.

The anxiety followed into Monday as you stood in the elevator. The doors opened to the sixth floor and you reluctantly dragged yourself to the bullpen.

Your hands tightened around your bag as you approached your desk. Spencer’s eyes lingered on you as you set your things down

“Morning,” he greeted with a small smile.

“Morning,” you mumbled.

You fidgeted with your hands and stepped closer to his desk.

“Listen Spence, about Friday night… l’m sorry I was flirty with you.”

His cheeks turned a dusty rose at the memory. “It’s alright.”

This still didn’t ease your worries. “Are you sure? The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable around me. Especially because of something I did.”

His eyes softened when he noticed just how nervous you were.

“I don’t, I promise,” he reassured.

“So we’re okay?”

He nodded with a small smile and the weight started to lift off your shoulders.

___________________________________________

The second time it happened was a few weeks later.

It was Derek’s birthday. The whole team went out to dinner followed by a trip to the bar to keep the night going.

Spencer stayed behind at the table, watching you order drinks and chat with Emily at the bar. He also tried to ignore the angry green feeling surfacing as the bartender flirted with you.

“So, are you finally gonna dance with her tonight?” Derek asked the young man as he sat down beside him.

Spencer sighed as he kept his eyes trained on you. “I don’t know.”

His friend patted him on the back, “Come on man. Consider it my birthday present.”

Spencer turned his attention to the man beside him. “I already got you a present.”

“Kid,” Rossi interjected from farther down the table, “in my professional opinion, when a woman asks you to dance, you dance.”

This brought out a smile from Hotch.

“Even if you think you’ll look like a fool,” Rossi continued.

“Like two weeks ago when that woman asked Morgan to dance,” Hotch teased, which brought out an annoyed expression from the man in question.

“Hey! I was not that bad,” Derek defended.

“You looked like a bird doing a mating dance,” Spencer now joined in.

Derek looked appalled from the younger man’s joke.

Soon after you approached the table with Emily. “What’s so funny?” You asked the table.

”Morgan's attempts to woo women,” Rossi joked.

Emily took a sip from her drink and rolled her eyes playfully. “Oh where do I begin?”

Derek stood up from the table shaking his head and smiling. “Well, I’m gonna go dance with people who appreciate my moves.” He then made his way to the open area where Penelope and JJ were.

Back at the table, before you could sit down, the speakers of the bar started to play Maneater by Nelly Furtado. You gasped and a bright smile filled your features.

“I love this song!” You squealed.

You set your half consumed drink down on the table and looked at Spencer, “Do you want to go dance?”

He looked at you surprised. “Me?” He squeaked.

You giggled, finding his reaction cute, “Yes you!”

Spencer started closing in on himself. Before he could come up with the excuse he used last time you said, “I can teach you. It’ll be so much fun!”

You were oblivious to the knowing looks from your other team mates at the table. Your focus was only on Spencer. Staring deep into his golden eyes and finding nothing but comfort.

“Okay,” he agreed with a small smile.

You beamed with excitement, “Yay! Let’s go.” You offered your hand to him. He took it and found you pulling him up from his chair and towards the dance floor.

He followed you through the people in the crowd until you found an open space to settle. You held onto his hands as you swayed to the beat.

Spencer tried to follow you but was still noticeably tense. He was also less focused on his dancing because he was too enamored by your movements. Watching you sway so effortlessly with the rhythm.

“Look at you Spence! You’re getting the hang of it,” you praised.

He appreciated the compliment but cringed, “I feel awkward.”

“That’s not how dancing should feel. You should feel free and loose.” You let go of his hands and spun around.

A real smile spread on his lips, “I’m surprised you’re this coordinated with how many drinks you’ve had.”

“Oh, I guess you missed when I almost stepped on you.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, “I guess I didn’t.”

The song ended and changed to Don’t Stop The Music by Rihanna. Your jaw dropped and your face filled with excitement.

“You like this song?” he asked even though he already knew the answer.

You grabbed his hands once more and grinned, “Yes!” You resumed dancing with his hands in yours. This time you were mouthing the lyrics of the song.

I gotta get my body moving, shake the stress away you heard from the speakers and shook Spencer's hands.

“You gotta shake the stress baby!” you cheered at him.

He bashfully laughed watching you drunkenly shout. And hearing you call him baby, but that’s beside the point.

As the song played your hips and shoulders moved to the rhythm of the music. He wasn’t as successful as you when it came to swaying his hips but he could move his shoulders and copy you.

Who knew that you’d be up in here lookin’ like you do?

You took a step back and gestured to him as the song said. Spencer shook his head and pulled on your hands to bring you back closer to him.

Do you know what you started? I just came here to party

You took him pulling you back as a way to sneak your arms around his neck.

But now we're rockin’ on the dance floor actin’ naughty

Spencer’s cheeks started to turn red at the closeness.

Your hands around my waist, just let the music play

You retracted your hands to grab his and place them on your waist.

We’re hand in hand, chest to chest, and now we’re face to face

By the time your arms returned wrapped around his neck, his ears were crimson. With your arms around him your shirt raised slightly. His hands met the gap of your skin that was exposed.

Even though he felt like his insides were going to melt, he kept his hands on you and kept dancing. Spencer followed the steps you took, the way you moved back and forth. He was finally starting to let the music flow through him.

You definitely took notice. It only made you more eager to dance with him.

As the song continued into the next verse you grew more confident.

Don’t you feel the passion ready to explode?

Your hands moved to his shoulders. You moved in closer, and with a playful smirk sang along the words so Spencer could hear.

What goes on between us, no one has to know

Just when Spencer thought the fluttering in his stomach couldn’t get worse, you leaned in close to his ear and whispered the next lyric.

This is a private show

The air between you was magnetic. It felt like you were in your own little world. Like the rest of the bar goers were gone. Suddenly, it was just you two on that dance floor.

Spencer’s face was inches away from yours. You were so close you could count the freckles on his pink cheeks.

“You look so cute, all flustered,” you muttered.

He licked his lips nervously, “I’m not used to dancing like this with someone.”

“Are you having fun at least?”

“Yes,” he answered instantly.

“Well then, we should do this more often,” you offered with a sweet smile.

As the song came to an end you leaned up and left a kiss on Spencer’s cheek. You took a step back to fully look at him. His eyes slightly widened and his lips parted from your peck on his cheek.

“I love dancing with you,” you released your hold on his shoulders. The ghost of your touch was still hot on his skin. “Hopefully we can do this again.”

His eyes shined as he looked at you, “I’d like that.”

________________________________________

The third time it happened, Spencer got a phone call at 12:04 am.

He was resting on his couch, nose deep in a book, when he heard his phone buzz. He breathed a sigh of relief at the caller ID revealing it to be you instead of Hotch with a new case.

When he answered, he heard loud music and faint voices in the back.

“Hello?”

You quickly answered back, “Spencer! I didn’t wake you, did I?” Your voice had a higher pitch than normal.

“No, I was just reading. What’s up?”

“I went out to a bar for girls night but…I had one too many drinks,” you whined.

He sat up straighter, “are you alright?”

There was a pause before you spoke again. “The room is spinning. I’m really dizzy and everything is overwhelming,” you mumbled. Hearing you sound so scared and small made his heart hurt.

“I didn’t want to bother the girls because they’re having so much fun and none of them can drive right now.”

Before you could finish your statement, he was already standing up and walking to find his shoes and jacket.

“Do you want me to pick you up?” He knew the answer.

“Please. Can you?” you begged.

Spencer was grabbing his keys and out the door in a heartbeat. “Of course, I’m on my way.”

Ten minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot. He walked inside and looked around the crowded room. A few meters away, a hand rose from a booth and waved him over.

He followed it and found Emily, JJ and Penelope keeping you company at the booth. You rested your head in your arms, which were folded on the table.

JJ carefully tapped your arm, “hey, your ride is here.”

You slowly lifted your head up and beamed at the sight of him.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he said softly.

“They found me,” you said pointing to your friends. “They said they would babysit me until you showed up.”

He chuckled and lightly rubbed your shoulder, “You okay? You think you can walk to the car?”

You nodded and slowly stood up.

“Text one of us when you get home safe,” Penelope announced.

You gave a lazy thumbs up in her direction and turned to Spencer, “Can you remind me to do that?”

The corners of his mouth turned up in amusement. “Of course. Come on, let's get you home,” he nodded towards the door.

You waved and said goodbye to the girls before Spencer led you through the crowd with his hand in yours. You grasped his hand like it was an anchor in the over-stimulating environment.

When you stepped outside, the cool breeze caused goosebumps to rise on your skin. The fresh air and dulled sounds were already starting to help you feel better.

Unfortunately, your balance was still screwed and you managed to trip over air. Before you could fall to the ground, Spencer swiftly reached out and caught you. He helped you stand back up and wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

“I got you, you’re okay,” he muttered close to your ears.

Him being so sweet was going to make your stomach twist.

The rest of the walk to the car he kept his arm around you. Your body instinctively leaned into him and used his frame to keep you upright.

When you reached his car, he opened the passenger door and let go of his hold on you. You almost whined at the loss of contact.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” you spoke quietly as he helped guide you into the car.

Before he closed the door and headed to the driver's seat he offered a kind, “You’re welcome.”

The beginning of the car ride was quite aside from the hushed music on the radio. You leaned back, slouching in the car seat.

You watched Spencer’s hands on the wheel instead of the rapidly changing view of the windshield. Your fuzzy mind was trying to focus on anything that wasn't the dizzy spinning feeling that couldn't go away.

Of course your thoughts were jumbled with images of the man next to you.

“You’re so nice,” you said with a fond look.

He looked at you with brief confusion over your random declaration. “Thanks,” he returned his eyes to the road.

You shuffled in your seat to face him.

“No you’re really nice,” you huffed, frustrated he somehow didn’t understand the full scope of what your drunk brain meant. “You’re so kind and sweet to everyone. I love it.”

An amused smile grew on his face. “I try to be,” he returned.

“You are.”

He quickly glanced over to see your figure leaning against the seat. Or more like the seat holding you up. Your eyes occasionally felt heavy, leading to your eyelids fluttering every so often.

“You look half asleep,” he teased.

“I feel half asleep.”

“Then why are you so chatty all of a sudden?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know, just feel like talking.”

You forced your eyes open to get a better look at him. “I like talking with you.”

Spencer tried not to think about how your voice was much more soft and melodious than normal.

“I like talking with you too,” he affirmed.

He suddenly went down a mental rabbit hole of your previous conversations with him. How often you conversed over coffee early in the morning. All those plane rides home where you both had to stifle your laughter so as to not bother the others. Or the dozens of times he rambled to you about endless topics.

“I’m surprised I haven't bored you yet with how much I talk.”

“Oh sweetie, I could never get bored of you.”

His ears started to turn red at the flirtatious tone in your voice.

“I could listen to you talk for hours. Even about things I don’t understand. I’ll always listen to you,” you continued.

“Really?” He muttered with a slight voice crack. His heart rate was steadily growing.

“Uh huh,” you confirmed sweetly.

His eyes darted to yours for a fleeting moment. You looked completely and utterly enraptured by him.

“Your voice sounds like honey.”

Spencer's grip on the steering wheel tightened. He kept his gaze trained on the road ahead.

“We’re almost at your apartment,” he deflected.

Your smile fell slightly.

The air in the car was growing stale by the seconds. Neither of you spoke until he pulled up to your building.

As you reached for the door handle, he whispered for you to “wait one second.” You complied. He got out of the car and walked to your side. He opened the passenger door and held out a hand for you.

“What a gentleman,” you said with a smug grin.

He chuckled and made sure you didn’t stumble as you stepped out of the car.

“I try,” he replied.

“You succeed.”

As you walked together to your apartment, neither of you let go of the other's hand. At your door, you fumbled with your keys. Spencer tried to offer to open the door himself but you shooed away his hand and mumbled, “I got it, I got it.”

After fighting with the lock, you stepped inside and practically threw your bag on the couch. You were seconds away from falling on the couch yourself before Spencer calmly grabbed your shoulders.

“Come on, let's get you to bed.”

You whined but didn’t object. He guided you down the hall to your room. In the dark, he reached for your lamp and turned it on. You plopped down on your bed and yawned.

“Where are your makeup wipes?” He asked, looking around the room.

You pointed towards the dresser, “In the top left drawer.” He followed your directions and returned to your bed, handing the pack to you.

“See I told you. You’re so nice,” you complimented while lazily cleaning your hours old makeup off.

“Why because I got you your makeup wipes?” He joked with a playful tone.

You giggled in response. The sound made Spencer feel like he was the intoxicated one. He would never get used to the way you laughed.

“No silly, not just that. The fact that you’re still here.”

You tried and failed at getting your lipstick and eyeliner off. Instead you smeared the deep colors around your face.

Spencer’s lips formed a thin line, trying not to smile at you smearing your makeup. He grabbed a fresh wipe and kneeled down in front of you. “Here let me help,” he mumbled. With careful hands, he pressed the damp wipe to your face to finish the job.

“Of course I was going to stay with you,” he acknowledged your previous comment. “I’m not going to just drop you off. I wanted to make sure you were safe and feeling okay.”

You tried not to smile because his hand was so close to your mouth. Your brain was going to short circuit at the closeness. His face mere inches away. His hand and the skin of your face are only separated by a tiny piece of cloth.

You watched intently as he used his thumb to wipe off the last bit of lipstick. His movements were desperately slow as he handled you with care. Like you were a fragile statue he couldn’t let break.

The action made your chest tighten and your heart race. If you had consumed another drink or two back at the bar, you would’ve jumped at the chance to kiss him.

But instead, you stared deeply into his eyes as he checked your face for any more makeup residue. His pupils were wide. You assumed it was from the dim lighting of the room.

You may not have been drunk enough to kiss him, but you were drunk enough to joke about it.

“What if I just kissed you right now?”

His eyes widened and his lips parted in shock. “What has gotten into you?” he questioned in a lighthearted tone.

“What? it’s not just me! You’re also staring at my lips!” you put your hands up in defense with a mischievous grin. “Just say you wanna kiss me.”

He chuckled at your antics. “Because I’m taking off your makeup. And what about you staring at my eyes?”

A grin spread on your face. “I can’t help it. They’re beautiful. Nice to look at.”

“They’re not that nice.”

“I beg to differ gorgeous,” you returned with a wink. “I could look at them all day.”

Spencer smiled as his cheeks turned pink. He looked between your eyes and your lips before his expression faltered for a moment. Like he was mentally stuck on something.

However, because of your dizzy mind and vision, you didn’t pick up on it.

He stood back up and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You think you’ll be okay?”

You nodded, “Yeah. Thanks again for … everything.”

“You’re welcome.” He started walking towards your bedroom door but before he left the room, he paused. “Don’t forget to let the girls know you got home safe.”

Your jaw went slack and a hand flew to your forehead, “oh my god you’re right.”

He fought back a grin from your reaction. “Goodnight,” he offered before he left.

You waved and said goodnight as his frame left your bedroom. The sound of the front door shutting soon followed.

Before you passed out for the night you texted penelope you got home safe. But you didn’t see her reply until the morning.

Penelope: yay!

Penelope: hope you feel better my sweets <3

Thanks :) I have a raging migraine so I better feel better soon

Penelope: :(

Penelope: oh btw, how’d it go with boy genius???

Ugh

I flirted with him AGAIN

Penelope: you’re kidding!

Penelope: What did you say?

I can’t remember all of it but at some point I said his voice sounds like honey

Penelope: OMG

Oh no it gets worse

He helped me take off my makeup and I said I wanted to kiss him. And THEN I pointed out how he stared at my lips and I said “just say you wanna kiss me”

Penelope: oh girlie

Penelope: I think you have to throw in the towel

Penelope: you love him

You stared at the words on the screen before your hands could even type a reply. Mentally fighting with yourself about the subject.

No way

I can’t be in love with him

He’s my friend I can’t do that

Penelope: I don’t think you have much of a choice

You sighed and turned off your phone. As you reached for the aspirin bottle, you prayed you wouldn’t do something stupid like this ever again

You were wrong.

______________________________________

By the fourth time it happened, almost a month had passed since you asked him to pick you up.

To celebrate the success of a case, his coworkers and friends wanted to go out for some down time. He thanked them for the invitation but kindly rejected it saying he had previous plans to attend some film festival. In reality, he had been on the fence about attending the film festival and ended up spending the evening at home.

As much as he wanted an excuse to spend time with you, he couldn’t go through another evening of you flirting with him.

Normally, it’d be his dream to have you flirt with him and call him sweet names. To hear how much you liked his voice, his eyes, and the way his brilliant mind worked. But the more it occurred, the more confused he felt.

At first, he assumed you were just a flirtatious drunk and there was no meaning behind your advances. But as time went on, he saw your actions and affectionate words had so much desire, so much longing that he started to suspect they were based on real feelings.

Yet, it was only reserved for the version of you that had multiple drinks running through your system.

He’d almost given up on asking you how you felt. Almost.

Something that gave him a glimmer of hope was a voicemail he received.

In an effort to actually get some sleep, he took a late night shower. When he returned to his bedroom, he found his cell phone had received a voicemail. He checked and saw he missed a call from the very person he was anxiously avoiding.

With new clean pajamas on, he grabbed his phone and sat down on his bed ready for the possible plea for him to pick you up. He clicked the message and lifted the phone to his ear.

“Hi Spence! I wanted to talk but it looks like you’re busy,” your voice sounded sweet and bubbly. He deduced you might have already gone home at this point given the fact that this time there was no loud background music or voices.

“I missed you tonight. I wish you came with us. I know that isn’t always your favorite place to be, but I still kinda had hope. I love spending time with you. I don’t care if it’s at work or off the clock, it makes me so happy to see you.”

His heart felt warm from the way you talked about him. Your voice sounded giddy and occasionally you would slur your words.

“It’s kinda silly but when we don’t have work or plans, I will literally count down the days until I get to see you again. Isn’t that silly? I spend like five or six days of my week with you and when I don’t see you, I’m thinking about when I’ll see you again.”

Spencer found familiarity in what you were saying. For the last few weeks he found his thoughts were constantly revolving back to you. Whether intentionally or not.

“I pretty much think about you all the time. It’s becoming a bit of a problem. I don’t mean you’re a problem! The problem is how much I like you. I’ve never liked someone as much as I like you.”

There was a brief pause in your message. He almost thought the voicemail was over until your voice returned softer than before.

“I’m probably falling in love with you.”

“And that’s really scary to think about because I don’t think I’ve ever been in love before. You’re different Spence, when I’m around you I feel-“

You were cut off by the time limit of the voicemail. Spencer stared at his phone screen with wide eyes. His heart was beating so fast it could’ve jumped out of his chest.

He finally got an answer to the question that plagued his mind. You loved him back.

You loved him.

His whole body was filled with adrenaline. He almost grabbed his keys and drove over to you at that moment. But he knew he had to wait. He couldn’t have this conversation with you while you were still intoxicated and would probably fall asleep by the time he got there.

Spencer on the other hand, could barely sleep. He was too busy on cloud 9 to come back down and let sleep overtake him.

The next morning he was practically buzzing with excitement. He got up earlier than normal for work so he could stop by your apartment.

He nervously knocked on your door. He kept fidgeting by fixing his tie and cardigan while he waited for you.

When you did open the door he saw you were still in the process of getting ready. You had on dress pants and an old college t-shirt.

You looked surprised to see him of course since he didn’t announce he was going to come over. “Spencer? What are you doing here?”

Suspicion started to creep its way into his mind. For now he ignored it and pushed on.

“I thought we could commute to work together. I figured you would be hungover and not in the best mood to drive.”

Your eyebrows raised and lips turned up. “That is so sweet of you,” you beamed. You opened the door wider, suggesting he was welcome. He followed and walked inside your apartment

“You’re absolutely right by the way. I feel like shit,” you groaned. “My head is killing me, I’m exhausted and I have this massive bruise on my leg.” You waved your hand over your right thigh indicating where the injury was.

“I have no clue how I got it. I probably fell but I'm not sure. Most of last night is fuzzy, I barely even remember how I got home,” you joked with a chuckle.

The suspicion Spencer felt turned into a pit in his stomach. With furrowed brows he asked the million dollar question. “Do you remember calling me last night?”

You stared at the ground as you tried to shuffle through the vague images of the night before. “No I don’t. What did we talk about?” you asked innocently.

His grip on the strap of his satchel tightened. “We didn’t. Talk. I couldn’t pick up the phone and didn’t realize you had called me until this morning. That’s why I wanted to stop by. To make sure you were okay.” He topped off his lie with a flat smile.

”Thanks for checking up on me,” you sweetly replied, not yet aware of the internal mess he was experiencing.

“It’s no problem,” his voice almost cracked.

“I need to finish getting dressed and brush my teeth but I’ll be ready to leave in like five minutes.” You speed walked back to your bedroom.

It wasn’t until he heard the door close that he finally let the storm of emotions rip through him. His chest was getting tighter by the second. It felt like he was suffocating.

You don’t remember.

You told him you loved him and you don’t remember it at all. The best news he’d heard in months was a blip in your memory. Was late night drunk babbling.

He felt so foolish. So stupid for thinking you might really reciprocate his feelings.

One part of himself that was still holding onto hope tried to remember that “drunk words are sober thoughts.” But that’s not always true.

He knew studies have shown intoxication can lead to someone misinterpreting their own thoughts or feelings. Leading to them impulsively expressing things that they don’t really believe.

Unfortunately, the factual and heartbroken part of his brain was overwhelming compared to the sliver of hope he had left.

“Alright, I’m good to go,” you snuck back into the living room. Your voice brought him back to the present.

You grabbed your purse off the couch and walked towards the front door. As you put on your jacket you noticed the sudden change in Spencer’s demeanor.

“Spence, you okay?”

”Yeah, I’m fine,” he nodded and answered with a light voice. But you could see right through it. His eyes gave it away. They looked so full of hurt.

”Spencer-“

”I promise, I’m fine,” he interrupted. He offered you a fake smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He walked to your door and tightly held his bag. “We should go before we hit traffic.”

You observed him for a few seconds longer than he liked. The profiler side of you wanted to pry but you knew it was a bad idea to push your friend.

The drive to work was agonizingly quiet. It was odd for you two to barely speak when in close quarters. Instead, you both let the tension hang in the air, ignored and untouched.

Spencer sat with his feelings for most of the drive. He didn’t want to be hopeful anymore. He didn’t want to be confused if it was real anymore. At this point, he just wanted to give up.

Now, he’d have to keep a tight lid on his feelings for you. Leave it to fester and wear away at his heart.

Like that would do any good though. He couldn’t stop loving you no matter how hard he tried.

____________________________________

The following days felt like a dream to you. But not in a good way.

It felt like one of those dreams where you know something is off, but can’t tell what it is.

Spencer had been closed off ever since he picked you up for work. You couldn't wrap your head around why. He seemed so happy and eager when he arrived at your apartment that morning.

That was the last time you saw him act normal around you. Now there was an underlying bitterness in the words he spoke. Everytime you tried to ask him if he was okay, whatever excuse he gave you left a sour taste in his mouth.

You weren’t the only one to notice either. Everyone could sense the air go stale when you entered a room he was in. How his eyes no longer lingered on you. Or how it almost pained him to even look at you.

His sudden change in behavior was starting to drive you insane. You were overthinking and overanalyzing every single interaction you had with him, leading up to that day in your apartment. Every move you made around him was calculated. You were terrified one wrong word or move would make him hate you.

“He hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Penelope swung around in her chair to face you. “I think it’s impossible for him to hate you.”

You shook your head, “but still he won’t talk to me Pen. He’s always been so open with me and the last few days he’s been shutting me out. He hasn’t been weird around you guys at all.”

She twirled a sparkly purple pen in her hands as she watched you sulk. “You said it started on Thursday last week?”

“Yeah, the day after our last case.”

Penelope sat back in her chair thinking. “Do you think the case bothered him? Could that be why he went home instead of going out with us?”

“No, I don't think so. The next morning when he showed up at my apartment he was in a good mood. A great mood even,” you folded your arms in frustration. “But when I left the room and came back he looked like a sad puppy.”

Penelope tapped her pen against her chin. “Why was he at your apartment before work?”

“Apparently, I called him the night before but he didn’t pick up so he stopped by to check up on me and assumed I’d be hungover.”

“Awe, that’s sweet,” she cooed before her confusion crossed her features. “Wait, you apparently called him? You’re not sure?”

You cringed as you explained, “I don’t remember calling him. I was really drunk.”

She tried to hide the amusement on her face but failed. “Why did you call him?”

You stared at the floor trying to piece together what happened after you got home that night. “I remember missing him. I wanted to talk to him, but I’m not sure what about.”

“It’d pay good money to hear whatever voicemail you must’ve left him,” she chuckled with a cheeky grin.

“Right!” You started to chuckle with her until vague memories of talking on the phone came to light. Your face fell as your drunk declarations were pulled out of your long term memory.

“Oh god,” you said barely above a whisper.

Penelope filled with concern, “sweetie what’s wrong?”

“I did leave him a voicemail. He must have listened to it while I was changing,” your eyes widened and anxiety started flowing through your veins.

Before she could ask what you said in the message, you interrupted. “I have to go,” you alerted as you remembered Spencer already left the office. “I’ll text you later!”

You practically ran back to the bullpen to grab your things and tell Hotch you were leaving for the night.

The car ride to his apartment was agonizing. You gripped the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles turned white.

This was all your fault. He couldn’t stand to be around you and talk to you anymore because you drunkenly told him you loved him.

You ruined your friendship.

The least you could do was go to his apartment to try to make things right. Try to fix whatever you have broken.

You couldn’t lose him. Not Spencer. Not the first man you ever actually truly wholeheartedly loved. Even if he didn’t love you back the same way. You’d rather live with the soul crushing pain of unrequited feelings, than lose one of the most important people in your life.

The walk to his apartment was even worse than the drive to his building. With every step you took, your heart grew heavier. By the time you weakly knocked on his door, your eyes had started to water.

When Spencer opened the door, his face fell with concern.

“I remember,” you whispered before he could ask what was wrong.

A look of realization dawned on him. He stepped to the side and opened the door wider, “come in.”

You followed and stood awkwardly in his living room. You’d been here hundreds of times before. But now it feels different. Even though you were welcomed inside it still felt like he was miles away.

“Spencer, I am so sorry.”

“For what?” He already knows what you’re talking about, you can see it in his eyes.

“The voicemail.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You’re sorry for sending it?”

“Yes, no!” you stuttered fidgeting with your rings. “I meant what I said. Every bit of it. I just uh- I wish I had told you all of that when I was sober. Maybe I could’ve phrased it better. Not come off so strong.”

“Why didn’t you?” he inquired, a hint of desperation in his voice.

He took a single step closer to you. “You could’ve told me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at him, “wait, you’re not mad about what I said?”

He mirrored your confusion, “what do you mean?”

“All week you’ve been acting weird. I thought you were mad or uncomfortable with me because I said I love you.”

Spencer raised his hand to his face as he realized. “I would never be mad at you for that.” His voice raised slightly in frustration, almost a wine, as he continued, “I was upset because by the time you sobered up, you forgot about it.”

“Oh,” you whispered —if you could even call it that— under your breath.

He lied. He listened to the message before he showed up, was going to ask about it, and you forgot like an idiot.

“You only flirt with me or show interest in me when you're drunk. I couldn’t tell what was real or not,” his expression showed more pain as he spoke.

“Spencer, I promise I really do have feelings for you.”

His lips formed a flat line as he stared back at you. “Then why did you only show it when you were drunk?”

“Because I was scared!” your voice raised. You spoke with your hands as you got louder. “How do you tell your best friend you fell in love with them? You can’t! It just doesn't work. I thought I was going to lose you.”

“I’m in love with you.”

You deadpanned at him, “Spencer, I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” he said louder than you.

The weight of his confession finally settled. Time stood still. The world stopped turning. The hands on the clock stopped ticking.

His voice was quieter this time when he said it. He spoke in the gentlest tone you’d ever heard from him. Like the words dripped right from his arteries, carrying them away from his heart and to you.

“I love you.”

“You do?”

You don’t know why you asked that. It seemed to be the only thing that could leave your mouth. How could you not believe him when he said those three words like that. Like it was his purpose. That he was put on this earth to love you and only you.

The realization of what his confession meant started to dawn on you.

“That’s why you were at my apartment. So you could tell me. And I-“

You stared at the floor with wide guilty eyes and sat (more like fell) on his couch. The guilt started to creep into your blood. It started to crush your bones.

“Oh I screwed up everything,” you buried your face in your hands.

He sat down next to you, “no you didn’t.”

“Yes I did. You have every right to be mad at me.”

”I'm not,” his hand landed on your back, his thumb slowly caressing you.

You looked up at him, “really?”

“Yes.”

You stared back at him, looking unconvinced.

He surrendered and shrugged, “okay I was kind of crushed about it. But I know now that you really did mean it.”

“I still hurt you,” you returned meekly. The tears started to return back to your eyes and you blinked them away.

“I’m so sorry. What can I do to make it up to you?”

His thumb stopped its movements on your back. With the same hand, he pushed back the hair that had fallen in your face. He looked into your eyes like he wanted to see all of you. See every little crack and crevice of your soul you tried to hide from him in fear of judgment, in fear of him running away.

He could never run away from you.

“Tell me everything you wished you could say when you were sober.”

You sat up straighter and turned to fully face him. After taking a slow deep breath, you said what you’d wanted to say to him for months.

No liquid courage. Just the pure, raw, unadulterated you.

“Spencer, I’m in love with you. I couldn’t tell you when I was sober because I was afraid. I was in denial for so long. I tried to convince myself I wasn’t falling for you. And it’s not because I don’t want to have feelings for you. It’s the opposite. I love you so much it scares me.”

You started to play with your rings again. “I’ve never been in love before. I’ve never said it and been sure that I really meant it.”

“I mean it when I say it to you. I know I mean it because I want to spend as much time as I can with you. Doesn’t matter if it’s sitting quietly next to each other on the jet or dancing in a crowded bar. I know I mean it because I’d do anything for you. I’d listen to anything you want to ramble about. I’d drive you anywhere you wanted to go because I know you’re not the biggest fan of driving.”

You swallowed down the lump you didn’t realize formed in your throat.

“I always find myself crawling back to you when you’re not near.”

It was only now you really noticed Spencer's expression. His eyes were soft and dilated so much there was barely any brown left in them. His waterline threatened to spill with tears.

Before you could even dare to say anything else, he reached to the back of your neck and pulled you closer. His lips mixed with yours in a long awaited dance.

The kiss wasn’t overwhelmed with passion. But also not too slow and careful. The only way you could describe it was perfect.

It was perfect.

He was perfect.

Every aching moment of yearning and longing leading up to this.

After kissing for what felt like forever —although you’re pretty sure you could kiss him for forever— you laid down on the couch with your head on his chest. Your arms wrapped tightly around him as if he could disappear at any moment. His one arm wrapped around your waist while the other was playing with your hair.

“You can stay the night if you want,” he nonchalantly tried to offer without explicitly asking if you would stay over.

“Do you think we’ll have time in the morning to stop by my apartment to get me fresh clothes?”

“If not, you could borrow one of my sweaters.”

You chuckled, “Imagine their faces when we show up to work together and with me very clearly wearing your clothes.”

He smiled at the thought of you wearing his clothes to work. The image of you proudly showing off that he was yours. “Yeah I can imagine it.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid hurt/comfort

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cinnamorollcrybaby · 6 months ago

Note

Hello love!! How are you doing? 💕

I LOVE your works so much!! You are so amazing and talented!! I wanted to thank you for writing the 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 cursed technique Nanami fic, and especially not judging me for it 🫶🏽. I don’t know you but you seem like such a nice and cool person, with that being said… I was thinking about a fic I saw where Saturo Gojo got his wisdom teeth removed and he falls in love with you over again and I thought that would ADORABLE but with Kento 😭 (also I can’t remember who wrote the fic to give credit sorry) So like yeah Nanami would get his wisdom teeth removed and you’d take care of him and he would be such a charming man (he already is) but like just the most fluff thing he’d be like “you’re a very beautiful nurse” “I’m not a nurse but thank you” you feel me? Anyways that was it lol

Much love and take care!! 💗💗

(I don’t know what anon is 😅 is it like your followers cause I see request and people ask if they can be added as anon and I’m like so confused)

You’re my…. my wife?

Tags: Nanami x fem!Reader, established relationship, crack, fluff, suggestive at the end.

An: Hey Anon! Tysm for requesting again. I’m glad you liked the freaky energy fic!! Also, ofc I’ll never judge you for any fic idea (as long as it’s not like straight up deplorable with nasty kinks).

I hope it’s okay, but I changed this fic idea a little because I fear it was a bit too close to the original creator’s idea, and I don’t want to encroach on their idea. However, I hope the vibes are still there that you wanted!!

Your normally strong, doting, intelligent husband has been reduced to a confused mess. Lying in the bed in the sterile infirmary, Shoko carefully monitors his vitals while Satoru recites exactly how it all happened for the nth time.

Your loving, sweet, charming husband was hit with a very specific cursed technique while he was out on a mission with Gojo. Luckily, he was physically unharmed and mostly mentally unharmed as well… except the cursed technique is one that messes with the memory.

The curse didn’t just want to kill Nanami; it wanted to break him. The curse robbed Nanami of his memory of his most precious moments: the one’s that included you.

His hazel eyes scanned the room, wondering why everyone was making such a big fuss over him. He was fine - really.

You sat beside his hospital bed, wanting to hold his hand, but you didn’t want to overwhelm him. Shoko said that his mind may be a bit fragile after having such a crucial part of his memory tampered with.

When his hazel eyes met yours, Nanami stared at you for a moment before shifting in his bed slightly. He looked to be uncomfortable with your sheer presence, which only broke your heart more.

“Were you hit with the cursed technique too?” He finally speaks, looking over at you with a bit of a confused look. He was really trying to piece together why you were here with him.

“Oh, um… no..” You quietly respond with a forced smile. Your heart longed for your husband, and he was right here but he wasn’t your husband.

“Forgive me… Are you Shoko’s apprentice..?” He tries once again to remember. He’s seen your face before. Maybe in a different lifetime.

Satoru and Shoko are silent as they both witness what’s going on between you and Nanami. Holding their breaths, they’re hopeful that he’ll regain his memory at some point. The curse couldn’t just extract memories. As Shoko explained it, the curse probably just kept the memories hidden from Nanami. Your husband will probably slowly start to remember you over time.

“No… I’m not Shoko’s apprentice.” You politely answer again. As bittersweet as this is, it’s certainly a cute scene to see Kento trying to make conversation with you.

“Hm.” He hums to himself quietly before he gazes at you again. His hand combs through his hair, trying to fix it up from lying in the hospital bed, and Satoru quietly snickers.

“Trying to look good for her, Nanamin?” He teases lightheartedly, earning a death glare from your husband. You softly giggle too, realizing what’s going on. Your poor husband isn’t uncomfortable with your presence. He’s nervous.

“Don’t be crude, Satoru. There’s a lady in the room.” He huffs, shaking his head at Satoru’s audacity.

“Aww, thank you, Nanami.” Shoko grins, subtly playing along with Satoru’s tactic.

“I wasn’t talking about you.” Nanami responds flatly before his eyes shift to you in another “secretive” glance, except everyone notices how he keeps looking at you. Your husband can’t keep his eyes off of you.

“I.. apologize for being a bit forward, but do you think we could…” His eyes flicker down to the wedding band that’s proudly sat upon your finger. His face subtly drops to a disappointed look. “Ah, I see. forget what I was saying.”

Shoko and Satoru are nearly losing it. The irony that Nanami is disappointed that he can’t ask you out because you’re married to him is hilarious. You give them a look, and they both quickly excuse themselves from the room, so they can go laugh together.

Once the two are finally out of the room, you smile softly before placing your hand over your husband’s, using your thumb to gently stroke the back of his hand. He looks at you with an unsure look, but he doesn’t remove his hand. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows harshly.

“If you were my wife, I wouldn’t like you touching another man like that…” He mutters quietly, causing you to softly giggle.

“Well, it’s a good thing I am your wife.” You finally reveal to him, unable to keep the secret any longer.

Nanami’s eyes widen, and he looks at you with sparkling eyes but also utter confusion written all over his face. His heart is racing in his chest. The heart monitor starts to beep at a more pressured pace. The pretty woman that has been sitting next to him is his wife…?

“You’re my… my wife?” He asks quietly.

“Mhm.” You hum in agreement before lacing your fingers with his. Your wedding band rubs against his. Both of the gems were cut from the same diamond. His eyes then focus on the joining of your hands, and he notices it too. “We’ve been married for a few years now.” You explain in a calm tone, trying to ease him into the idea of it all.

“I… I’m sorry… I don’t-“ Nanami is rarely off kilter like this, but he’s just trying to wrap his head around it all. You’re his wife… You’re his wife. “I’m sorry- I just can’t seem to remember…”

“It’s okay, Ken. Take your time.” You encourage as you rub on his hand gently.

His eyes fall to his lap, and a small smile curls on his lips. He may not completely comprehend what’s going on, but he knows in his very soul that he’s the luckiest man alive because you’re his wife.

Watching Ken fall in love with you all over again and rediscover all his daily pleasures was a treat. He slowly regained his memory over time: prompted by his senses randomly picking up on familiar sighs, smells, or even tastes.

Ken didn’t only fall in love with you all over again. He fell in love with the life he cultivated with you again. He found himself laughing a bit harder. He squeezed you a bit tighter. He lounged in bed for an extra ten minutes in the morning time to bask in your presence.

Oh, and that’s not to mention the literal tears he cried the first time he felt your cherished cunt after the incident. The way you squeezed around him so intensely… the way it’s so fucking wet — greedily sucking him in… Goddamn, he’s so lucky to have you.

#jjk #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #fanfic #drabble #jjk nanami #nanami x y/n #nanami fluff #nanami x you #nanami x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk gojo #jjk shoko #kento x y/n #kento x you #jjk kento #kento fluff

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wanders-in-wonderland · 6 months ago

Text

Don't Move

*Loosely inspired by the new Netflix movie Don’t Move but I haven’t actually watched it and only saw clips and read the synopsis.

I never should have parked so far from the grocery store. I’d stopped to grab a few items for dinner on my way home from work and parked in the last row, wanting to give myself an opportunity to walk a little extra to the store and stretch my legs after sitting at a computer desk all day, especially since today was an uncharacteristically sunny fall day. When I finish shopping and come back out to my car, I vaguely take note of another car parked next to me.

Weird, considering half the lot was empty but who am I to judge, I’m not the parking police. I roll my cart to my car, unload my shopping bags, and return the cart before rounding my car to get in and leave. That’s when I realize that the car next to me parked absurdly close to mine.

I silently judge the distance and decide that maybe I can squeeze myself into my driver side door without dinging his door or mine so I step in the space between the two vehicles. As soon as I pull open my door, I can tell that my plan won’t work. I huff out a little laugh and decide to just crawl in through the passenger side when I hear the car door slam from behind.

“Sorry!” An embarrassed sounding male voice sounds. “I totally misjudged the distance and parked a little too close.”

I turn to see a tall man stride around what I assume is his car that he was sitting in, coming towards me. I smile back at him, “No worries, it happens to the best of us. I can just crawl in through the other side.”

His eyes crinkle in a kind smile and he raises one hand to run through his hair bashfully. I realize that he’s really attractive, the kind of boy-next-door attractive that makes you feel at ease. He’s closed the distance between us and stands near the back bumper of both our cars, his frame filling the space and effectively trapping me in.

“No, don’t, I can move my car, just give me a sec,” he says, giving a wry chuckle. I glance down at his other hand and see him holding an umbrella. I raise an eyebrow, gesturing towards it with my chin, “Expecting rain?”

He looks down as if he’s surprised to see the umbrella in his hand, “Oh! This! Well, you can never be too prepared, right?” He shrugs lightly and takes another step into my space.

“Plus, it’s really useful for times like this,” he says before clicking a button on the handle that makes the tip light up with electricity. His umbrella is a stun gun in disguise. Before I can react, he jabs it into my side and I let out a strangled yelp as sharp pain floods my body and I crumple.

He catches me and the last thing I see before my vision goes black is his handsome face twisted in a dark, menacing smile.

—

The rhythmic jostling of a car wakes me up and I found myself laid out across the backseat of a car with my arms tied behind my back and my legs tied together at my ankles. I let out a soft whine, my body aching as I slowly clear my head.

My eyes dart around the car and I see him driving. He tilts the rearview mirror down so we can see each other and he flashes me a charming smile.

“Good morning. Sleep well?” His voice is teasing, as if we were lovers, waking up in bed together and not a deranged kidnapper and his prey.

“What the fuck? Let me go!” I thrash against my restraints but he’s also strapped me into the seatbelts and made it impossible for me to get free.

He smiles, “Don’t worry, we’re almost there.”

I feel the car turn and from my limited view out the windows, I see him turn us from a main road onto a smaller path that seems to lead into the forest. Fear starts to overtake my every emotion.

“Where are you taking me? Are you going to kill me?” I say, my voice cracking.

He laughs in response but doesn’t deign to give me a verbal response. Before I can muster up the courage to ask more, the car comes to a stop and he steps out before opening the door by my feet.

With a strong grip, he hauls me out of the car and I stumble out, legs unsteady and uncoordinated from being bound together. “Please, please, let me go!” I beg him, my heart in my throat.

He grins at me, “Let’s play a game. I’ll give you an opportunity to run, and if you out-run me, I’ll let you go.” I gasp, staring at him, waiting for the catch. He reaches behind me and with a swift motion, unties my arms. He leans down and does the same for my ankles and I stare at him in shock.

“You better run, little bird.” His voice is teasing as he takes a step back from me. I don’t hesitate. I spin and take off.

My breath is harsh and my heartbeat wild as I sprint through the woods, ignoring the branches that scratch at my face and arms. I hear his laugh following me and then his voice shouting after me, “Run, little bird, run as fast as you want but you won’t get far!”

I don’t stop to think, just mindlessly crashing through the woods as fast as I can, trying to put as much distance between us as possible. I’m not sure how far I’m able to get when suddenly, my leg seems to give out from underneath me and I take a tumble.

I gasp, trying my best not to scream as I trip and find myself landing hard on the ground. Pain shoots through my body and I grit my teeth, not wanting to make any more noise in case he can hear me. Adrenaline is still pumping through me as I scramble to push myself back up from the floor. I manage to stand and take a step before my knees buckle again and I drop to my hands and knees.

What the fuck is going on? Why isn’t my body cooperating? I’m frantic, horror filling my blood as I realize something is very wrong. My legs won’t move and I don’t know why. I try to crawl forward but suddenly, my arms give out and I end up sprawled across my front, branches digging into my body painfully.

I can’t escape like this. My brain is begging my body to just move and keep running but nothing is happening. I use an excruciating amount of effort to roll myself from my front to my back so at least I can have a better vantage point but that’s all that I’m able to accomplish before my body completes shuts down. I’m left splayed out on my back, limbs frozen, mind screaming in panic when I hear footsteps approaching.

And then, I hear his voice. “Little bird, did the drugs kick in?”

My heart drops at his words. He drugged me. That was why I couldn’t move. Tears filled my eyes and I blinked rapidly, the only movement I could still produce.

I see him walk into my view through my tears and I hear him chuckle. “Looks like my little bird can’t fly anymore.” He walks up next to me and looks down at me and waves a syringe mockingly.

“A paralytic. Fast-acting and long-lasting. You’re going to be like this for at least several hours,” he says, a maniacal gleam lighting up his eyes. I try to speak and realize that I can’t even do that.

He crouches down next to me and brushes my hair off my face, then trailing a hand down my cheek, collecting a tear. “We are going to have so much fun together, little bird.”

He hefts me up into his arms and carries me through the forest, retracing the path I’d ran down. I realize with a sinking heart that I did not make it far at all and in a few hundred yards, we end up back at the car. My mind is still screaming at my body to move but nothing obeys.

He carries me into a cabin, the intended destination of our car ride, and I stare listlessly at the space around us. We end up in a bedroom with a large bed and I feel another wave of fear pass over me. He’s going to rape me.

He lays me down gently on the bed like I’m some kind of precious cargo. Then he disappears from view and I hear the sound of running water from what I assume is the connected bathroom. He comes back holding a first aid kit and a wet towel. He starts with the scratches on my face, wiping them down before putting some kind of cream over them, his fingers gentle.

He makes a tsk sound at me, “Look at you, little bird. Covered in scratches, I’m going to need to take good care of you, hm?” He smiles down at me and my stomach curdles. My eyes are wide as I stare back at him, silent.

Then he pulls out a pair of scissors and I want to flinch but I can’t. He starts to cut my shirt off my body and I feel dizzy with terror as my clothes start to fall away in strips. I beg my body to move but just like before, there’s nothing in response.

He moves down to my pants, opting to unbutton them and gently pull them off my legs, taking care to maneuver my body around. Tears are streaming down my face, wetting my temples and my hair as I stare up at the ceiling blankly.

I’m naked now, stripped bare, splayed out on the bed. “Fuck, little bird, you’re beautiful,” he says, his voice low. He runs a hand down my cheek, ghosting over my throat and down between the valley of my breasts, over my stomach, and he comes to rest in between my legs. I close my eyes, trying to escape from this horror.

He nudges my legs further apart, revealing my pussy to his hungry gaze and I feel his finger dance across me. The movement is gentle, teasing, and if I could move, it would have made me tense and jerk away. But instead, I lay still, my body unable to do anything except let him take what he wants.

He trails a gentle finger against my clit and the touch makes electricity dance down my spine. He pulls his hand away for a second and I feel his finger press against my mouth. My eyes fly open to meet his. He smiles at me before gently pushing his finger into my mouth. My lips part with no resistance and when he pulls his hand away, a string of saliva follows.

His spit-wet finger goes back to between my legs and he rubs my clit again. My eyes clench shut as an unwanted wave of pleasure washes over me and if I could moan right now, I know that I would be biting it back. His wet finger moves up and down over me and he knows exactly how hard to rub and where to touch. I feel my breath stutter in my chest and I want nothing more than to push him away, to make him stop.

“Little bird, I can feel you getting wet,” he purrs at me and I squeeze my eyes shut in an attempt to block it out. “I’m going to take such good care of this pretty pussy,” he says as he gently slides a finger inside of me. I’m so wet now that there’s no resistance at all, and my relaxed body only helps him breech me.

He adds a second finger and suddenly, I feel the hot touch of a mouth on my clit. It’s unbearable, the forced pleasure permeating every single sense and nerve, the paralytic erasing every possible outlet I could have to soothe the sharp, overwhelming blanket of unwanted bliss. I can’t clench my legs, can’t roll my hips, arch my back, or even make a single sound. It’s torture.

His mouth and fingers work at me relentlessly and I can feel an orgasm building up. Except my body can’t respond to it, my pussy can’t tense and contract, there’s nothing to soften the rush of pleasure that slams into me. Tears are streaming down my face as my orgasm takes my breath away, the unimaginable pleasure shooting through me with no physical outlet. It makes my entire being go hazy, my breathing quickening as much as it could with my body in this state.

He doesn’t stop when I cum. His fingers continue to slide into me, curling upwards to hit my g-spot with painstaking accuracy. He lifts his mouth from my clit and flashes me a devious smile, “I told you I’d take good care of you. And fuck, you taste so fucking good, little bird. I could do this all day.”

His lips seal around my clit again, sucking, flicking, licking. I’m trapped in my body, trapped in this unbearable pleasure, as he wrings another orgasm out of my helpless body. Finally, he pulls back, sliding his fingers out of my dripping pussy. He sits back on his heels and looks down at me, triumph and satisfaction making him look like a king surveying his conquest.

He slides off the bed but stays in my field of vision as he begins to strip, every article of clothing removed revealing his attractive form. When his pants and underwear come off, I see his long, hard cock jut out, tip already dripping with pre-cum. I want to beg him to stop, tell him that I can’t take anymore but I can’t. I can only watch as he stalks toward me, crawling onto the bed and settling between my legs again.

He’s on his knees, towering over me as he strokes his cock languidly. “I’m going to make you fall apart on my cock, and make you take every single inch in that tight fucking cunt of yours. You are going to be mine, little bird.”

He moves my legs from where they’ve been spread wide, moving them to press both against my chest, leaving my pussy exposed and open for him. I feel the head of his cock push against my pussy and I close my eyes, trying to will myself away from this.

He laughs, “You can’t hide from me, you know that.” His body moves as he slides his cock into me. He’s gentle, slowly feeding an inch at a time, giving my lax body time to adjust to his massive size. I want to thrash and writhe, the feeling of his cock filling me so completely takes my breath away and it feels so fucking good I want to crawl out of my skin.

He lets out a low groan, cursing under his breath as he finally sinks all the way into me. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good, your cunt was made for me.”

Then, he fucks me. His hips slam into me without remorse, every thrust making my body jolt, his grip on my legs and hips the only things keeping me in place. My eyes roll back into my head as the pleasure overwhelms me.

Every thrust slams into my cervix, the pain-tinged pleasure makes me want to scream, to do anything to relieve this mind-melting, all-encompassing feeling. His movements are relentless, each one punctuated by the sound of his pleasure-filled groans. The sound of my pussy’s wetness fills the room, along with our skin slapping together, creating a cacophony of lewd noise.

“Fuck, little bird, I’m going to cum in your tight cunt. I’m going to mark you as mine from the inside,” he growls, his grip on me tight as his hips speed up. Waves of pleasure crash through me and I want to claw myself out of my physical form. I can’t cope with the pleasure shooting through every nerve with nowhere to go.

His hips stutter against mine and I hear his voice rasp out a drawn-out moan as he cums inside of me. He lets my legs down gently, taking care not to strain me as he leans over me. “Fuck, next time I do this, I want you writhing underneath me in pleasure,” he says, voice breathless. I can only stare back at him in response.

He pulls away from me, the feeling of his cock leaving my pussy sending tingles down my spine. He looks at me, his cum dripping out of my cunt and he smiles. “Don’t worry, we’re not done yet.” His words push a stab of anguish into me. What more can he do to me? I can’t handle any more.

He climbs off the bed and steps out of my line of sight. When he comes back, he’s holding a horribly mean-looking vibrator. My eyes widen and I blink frantically, my mind screaming at him to please stop. He can’t hear me but he wouldn’t listen to me even if I could verbalize my pleading.

He smiles and spreads my legs apart again, leaving me exposed and I hear the wretched sound of the vibrator fill the room. There’s no gentle touch, no softness that comes to soothe me, just the horrible, nerve-shattering press of the vibrator against my clit.

My mind breaks. The pleasure explodes out of me but every single muscle of my body stays relaxed, amplifying the unimaginable feeling. There’s nothing to dampen it, no clenching of my legs to make it any better, no cries, moans, whimpers, and screams leaving my throat to distract me. Just the vibrator destroying me.

My orgasm rips through me and he doesn’t relent. Moments later, another orgasm makes my every nerve combust and he only grounds the vibrator harder against me. The next one makes my vision go white and my brain shuts down any higher function and leaves me a shell only capable of experiencing the torturous pleasure. The last orgasm rips through me and tears through my consciousness and my world fades to black.

—

I wake up to a darkened room, clearly a few hours since I passed out, judging by the dusky sunset peeking in through the windows. I’m raw, destroyed, shattered. I desperately will my body to move and I feel my heart jump when my fingers twitch against the bed. My eyes dart around the room, taking in the lack of his presence, and for the first time, I feel hope beat in my chest.

And then, I hear footsteps and see him walk into view. My heart sinks. He’s holding another syringe and he smiles at me. “I see you’re awake, I hope you had a good nap.”

I desperately try to force my body to move but all I get is another pathetic twitch of my fingers. His gaze zeros onto it and he smirks. “Looks like you need a second dose, little bird.”

I want to scream, to beg, to do anything to put up a fight but there’s nothing that can be done. He comes up to the bed and with gentle fingers, pushes the syringe into my hip and presses the plunger down. Tears drip out of my eyes as I fight against my paralyzed body, my fingers still twitching desperately.

A few moments later, even that movement leaves me. He brushes my hair off my forehead and leans down to press a long kiss against my head. “You’re mine forever now, little bird.”

Note: This concept is so hot to me and when I saw a clip of the movie's premise, I knew I had to write this! Hope y'all enjoy! <3

#nsft concept #overstim kink #dark fantasy #cl1t torture #rap3 fantasy #sex and drugs #tw noncon #tw rap3 #rap3fetish #overstim nsft #kidnap fantasy

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yuyusbabygirl · 7 months ago

Text

Is this not what you wanted?

pairing: yunho x fem!reader

word count: 2.4k

warnings: established relationship, SMUT MINORS DNI, 18+, degradation, choking, oral (male receiving), face fucking, unprotected sex (please don't), name calling (whore, slut, all consensual), spitting, orgasm denial, technically breeding (he cums in her), hair pulling, dom/sub dynamics, mean dom!Yunho, sweet boyfriend!Yunho, spanking, aftercare

summary: you tease your boyfriend at board game night and he punishes you

It is really not fault. You were trying to be good, promise. But Yunho looks so good when he’s mad and it is so easy to rile him up in front of others.

So here you were, meeting up with the other guys and your boyfriend Yunho for board game night. What your boyfriend didn’t know yet is that you had an agenda. You wore the low cut top he had a love-hate relationship with, the tight jeans that made your ass look good and did your hair the way he likes it. But it bothers you that he was just sitting there, playing the stupid game. He had not even looked at your boobs yet. So you decide to ramp it up a bit.

You get up to get a drink, making sure to walk in front of him with your ass to his face because of course there was no space. Totally innocent. When you sit back down you put your hand on his thigh, maybe a bit too high. He shoots you a look but you just give him a sweet smile.

He’s not suspicious yet. When it is your turn to roll the dice you lean over the table, your low cut top giving the guys a good look at your cleavage. You knew, Yunho hated it when other guys looked at you too much.

You lean back after your turn is over and whisper to Yunho “I’m wearing that red lace set, by the way”.

He pursed his lips with his standard flustered expression and you knew you had him. But it wasn’t enough. You wanted him pissed.

You take your hand off his thigh and sit back against the couch. He holds his hand out for you to take it but you ignore it and sip your drink instead. Another rule break. He narrows his eyes but you know he doesn't want the others to see. He is a sweet golden retriever after all. You suppress a smile.

You all move on to the next game but you refuse his offer to play in a team with him and instead team up with Wooyoung. His fingers clench for a moment before he agrees to team up with Mingi. The game continues and you look at him over the rim of your glass. He’s watching you. Yunho shakes his head ever so slightly, telling you to knock it off.

Well, where’s the fun in that.

You continue teasing him across the room, arching your back maybe a bit too much, licking your lips after drinking, just little things. You know you’re going to pay for it later. But fuck, it’s hard to stop when he looks so good with his dark eyes, clenched jaw and his tight grip on his glass.

The last straw is when you touch Wooyoung’s thigh and laugh after he told a joke. As Yunho, cracks his neck you know you fucked up big time. Judging by the reaction your pussy had though, you won’t complain.

Before you know it, Yunho gets up and makes an excuse for why you two have to leave. The others who are oblivious to the tension between you two just wish you a good night.

Oh, you will have a good night. The next morning might be difficult.

Yunho takes your hand and drags you home, silently. Shit, he’s really pissed. He opens the door and as soon as it’s closed he pins you to it with his hand on your throat.

“You think it’s funny to piss me off? Think you’re real cute, don’t you?” he growls out and tightens his grip on your throat.

“You want to act like a whore, I’ll treat you like a whore. The only words out of your mouth better be ‘yes, sir’ and ‘sorry, sir’, you understand me?” he demands.

“Yes, sir”, you can only whisper with his tight grip on your throat.

“Strip”, he barks out and lets go of your throat.

You hurriedly take off your top and jeans, revealing your red lace set. You can’t help but blush as you see his eyes raking over your exposed skin.

“I was right. You really are a whore,” he murmurs. “Get on the bed,” he snaps at you. With hurried steps you walk to the bedroom and get on the bed. He stalks after you and when he reaches you he grabs your hips and flips you over so your ass is up in the air.

“I’ve been too lenient with you. I thought you were my good girl but here you are acting like a pathetic, needy little slut. You think I didn’t know what you were doing?” he coos at you. “You wanted to piss me off. You wanted to get punished like the whore you are,” he runs his hand over your ass.

“This one is for refusing to take my hand,” his low voice is the only warning you get before he lands a hard slap on your ass.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you squeak out.

“This one is for whispering in my ear in front of the others,” another harsh slap.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you cry out. This one was harder.

“This one is for wearing that top when you know what it does to me,” another slap, this time on your other ass cheek.

“I’m sorry, sir,” your voice breaks.

“This one is for teaming up with Wooyoung instead of me,” his voice is low and furious as he slaps your ass again in the same spot.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you whisper. Your ass feels like it’s on fire.

“This one is for daring to put your hand on another man’s thigh,” he slaps your ass with more force. That one really pissed him off.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you mewl out, tears forming in your eyes. That must’ve been the last one.

“And this one is because I love the pathetic noises you make,” he laughs mockingly and slaps your ass again, his huge hand allowing him to hit both cheeks on the already sore spots. His dick hardens further at the silent scream you let out.

He rips your panties off and glides a finger between your folds. “Only whores get wet from spanking,” he growls into your ear.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you whimper, needing him to touch you more.

“You’re sorry? Show me how sorry you are, my needy little slut,” he grunts before grabbing your hair and pulling you to your knees on the floor. He gazes down at you, his eyes hard and unforgiving and you know your throat is going to be sore tomorrow. Yunho quickly unbuckles his belt and you shuffle closer on your knees.

He frees his cock, not bothering to pull his pants down properly and the fact that you’re only left in your bra while he is still fully clothed is only turning you on more.

You barely have the chance to open your mouth fully before he’s thrusting his length into your throat, making you gag.

“Whores can take it all the way. Come on,” he grits through his teeth.

Your eyes are already watering and spit is running down your chin. Yunho is big and it has taken you a lot of training to be able to take him. You relax your jaw, allowing him to thrust inside your throat, down to his balls. His rough pace is making it hard not to choke but you don’t want to make him more mad so you take it, breathing through your nose. Yunho sees the tears running down your face, mascara smeared over your cheeks and the lip-gloss you had on smeared over his cock and it’s taking all his self-control to not cum on the spot.

“Fuck, that’s it. Such a whore, just for me,” he moans out and you so badly want to sneak your hand between your legs. He sees you clenching your thighs as he thrusts in and out of your mouth.

“Is my whore wet from me fucking her throat? I bet you wish I was fucking your needy cunt instead. Too bad you decided to be a fucking brat tonight. You’re not getting my cock until I’ve seen how sorry you are,” he laughs down at you and his grip on your hair gets tighter.

He spits down on your face and uses his hand to rub it into your skin. You could’ve cum from that alone.

He roughly pulls out our throat for a moment and you gasp and cough, more spit running down your chin.

“Please, sir. I’m sorry, sir,” your voice is breaking as you try to catch your breath.

“I’ll decide when you’ve had enough,” he grunts and thrusts back into your mouth.

“Shit, your mouth feels so good,” he gasps, gripping your hair tighter. He shoves his cock all the way down and holds your head with your nose against his pubic bone. You try hard not to choke but after a few seconds it becomes too much. Yunho pulls out when you’re choking and uses his hand to collect the spit running out of your mouth before wiping it on your face. Your face is a complete mess, you’re gasping and coughing and he wants nothing more than to praise you. But you’ve been bad tonight and he needs to remind you who’s in charge. He still leans down and presses a quick kiss to your swollen lips.

He uses his grip on your hair to pull you up and roughly throws you on the bed. He unhooks your bra and tosses it to the side.

“Spread your legs, my little whore,” he says in a low voice and crawls over you. He grips your throat with one hand and uses the other to push two fingers inside of you without warning. He tightens his grip on your throat when you moan, making the noise you let out even more pathetic. He pulls his fingers out and guides himself to your entrance.

“If you cum without permission, you won’t cum for a week. Is that clear, slut?” he asks, his face close to yours.

You nod eagerly. “Yes, sir”.

He pushes his cock inside, all the way to the hilt, but doesn’t give you a moment to adjust, immediately setting a hard pace. Yunho sits up, using his grip on your throat as leverage to fuck you hard and fast. The grunts and moans he lets out alone could make you cum.

“Fuck, take it, my little whore. Always so bratty but you quickly turn into a whining mess on my cock,” his voice low and feral as he chokes you. You can only moan and hold onto his arms, your eyes rolling back. He can tell you’re close already and snakes his free hand to your clit. You let out a high-pitched whine as he rubs circles on your swollen clit.

“Don’t you dare cum,” his voice is unforgiving. Right when you’re at the edge he takes his hand away and stops his thrusting. You whimper desperately.

“What are you whining about? I told you, you don’t get to cum yet,” he mocks you. Once he feels your cunt calming down he resumes his hard pace.

“Is this not what you wanted? Acting all bratty and slutty so I’d fuck you like the whore you are? Then stop whining and take it,” he growls out and tightens his grip on your throat, making you feel hazy.

He looks down where his cock disappears into your cunt and uses his free hand to push down on your stomach where his cock is bulging out. The added pressure brings tears to your eyes and you hold your orgasm back as best as you can.

You can tell he’s close as his thrusts get sloppier and harder.

“You’re gonna take my cum like a good slut,” he grunts, using his grip on your throat to pull your body down to meet his thrusts.

Fuck, cum. Cum, my good little whore,” he moans and presses down on your stomach, thrusting all the way inside and fills you up. He releases his grip on your throat and the rush of air, the pressure on your stomach and the feel of his cum inside you sends you over the edge. You dig your nails into his arm as you cum around his cock. The feel of your walls clamping down on him makes him whimper a bit.

“That’s my good girl,” he breathes out.

He collapses on top of you and breathes heavily into your ear. Your whole body tingles and you can barely feel him pressing soft kisses to your neck. You whine as he pulls out and gets up from the bed. He returns a minute later with a washcloth and some aloe vera gel. He wipes his cum from between your legs and the overstimulation makes you twitch.

“I know. But I need to clean you up,” he says softly, your soft and sweet boyfriend is back.

He turns you over and rubs aloe vera gel onto your red and sore ass cheeks. His touch is gentle and loving while he whispers how good you did.

“I love you, baby. I’m proud of you,” he murmurs gently and turns you back over onto your back. He uses a second washcloth to clean your face.

“Come on, you need to go pee,” he orders you gently. You whine a bit, not wanting to get up.

“I know but you have to. I will make you some tea in the meantime and afterwards we’re cuddling. Come on, my love,” he helps you up and you hobble to the bathroom. You do your business and when you return he’s changed into pajamas and is holding one of his shirts for you. He puts it over your head and kisses your lips softly. You both get into bed and he hands you a tea with honey in it for your throat.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Mhm, so good,” you mumble sleepily and lean your head on his chest while he puts on your favorite show. He kisses the top of your head and pulls the blanket over both of you.

“You know I love and yet hate that top, right?” he murmurs into your ear teasingly.

“I know. And it worked,” you chuckle softly and he lightly pokes your side before chuckling as well.

hope you enjoy, just a quick one that was in my head because angry yunho makes me feel thing

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez hard thoughts #yunho hard hours #yunho smut #yunho #ateez hard hours #ateez x reader #jeong yunho #yunho x reader #yunho oneshot #yunho ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #yunho hard thoughts #ateez x you #yunho x you

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verstappenverse · 2 months ago

Text

Lost in the Spin - Part 2

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Max refuses to let rumors rewrite your love story.

3.1k words / Part 1 / Masterlist

Max was on his jet within the hour. He hadn’t even hesitated, instructing his pilot to prepare for takeoff while he threw whatever he needed into his bag and put on the first hoodie he could find. The flight felt endless, his knee bouncing the entire time, fingers tapping against his leg as he tried not to let the worst thoughts consume him. Every second was another second you could change your mind, another moment for doubt to creep in, another moment he might be losing you, another chance slipping away to make things right.

Would you actually believe him? Would this be enough?

He didn’t know, but he had to try.

He barely touched his phone, fearing he’d see more headlines, more assumptions, more comments dissecting your relationship as if it was entertainment for the world to judge. He couldn’t let this be the end. Not over something that wasn’t real. His fingers tapped anxiously against his thigh, finally he unlocked his phone just to see your last message again.

Okay.

It wasn’t forgiveness. It wasn’t reassurance. But it was something.

As soon as the plane landed he was moving, his cap pulled low, hood up to avoid attention. The car ride to your apartment was silent save for the sound of his heart pounding in his chest. As he climbed the stairs to your floor, the reality of the situation hit him all over again. He had almost lost you. He still might.

Max hated not knowing. He hated not having control over this.

But most of all, he hated that he had hurt you.

Standing outside your door, he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before knocking. His pulse thrummed in his ears as he waited, shifting his weight anxiously from foot to foot. A long pause. Then footsteps.

Then you.

There you were, standing in front of him, you looked tired, eyes slightly puffy like you’d spent hours crying, arms wrapped around yourself as though you were holding yourself together. Seeing you like this, seeing the hurt he had caused felt like a punch to the gut. It twisted something deep inside of him. He had never wanted to be the reason for your tears.

You heard the knock, your heart jumping into your throat. You had been staring at your phone for hours rereading Max’s messages, scrolling through the photos again and again, trying to find some kind of clarity. But now he was here.

You swallowed, wiping your damp cheeks before slowly making your way to the door. Your fingers trembled as you unlocked it and pulled it open.

Max stood there looking exhausted and disheveled. He was in a hoodie and sweatpants, dark circles under his eyes. The moment his gaze met yours, the raw emotion in them almost made your knees buckle.

“Hey,” he said softly, voice hoarse, eyes searching yours for any sign of hope.

You hesitated before stepping aside. “Come in.”

Max walked inside, the space feeling different than usual. Colder. Like a part of it had already started to pull away from him. The door clicked shut behind you, the silence stretching heavy between you both. He turned to face you, his hands flexing at his sides like he was trying to stop himself from reaching out to you.

You sat down on the couch and he followed, careful not to sit too close. He knew you needed space, but all he wanted to do was reach for you, hold you.

You were the first to break the silence. "Max…I…I don’t even know where to start.”

“Baby…” His voice cracked, and that was all it took for your resolve to splinter. He turned to you, his face filled with quiet desperation. “I know I already said it a million times, but I swear nothing happened. I wouldn’t do that to you. Not ever.”

“I need you to tell me the truth Max,” you said. “No sugarcoating. Just… the truth.”

His throat tightened. "I swear to you, I didn’t cheat. I didn’t even know that girl. I was drinking, celebrating with the team and people were taking photos everywhere. I swear I wasn’t thinking about anything except how much I missed you. And then suddenly everyone was pulling me into pictures, and she—whoever she was I didn’t realise how close she was. I don’t even remember half of the night, but I know I would never do something like that to you. You have to believe me."

Your fingers twisted in your lap. “But… how can you be so sure?” you asked, voice small. “If you don’t even remember half the night, how do you know you didn’t do something?”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Because I know myself,” he said, voice rough with emotion. “Because even drunk out of my mind, there’s no part of me that would ever want anyone else. Because you are the first and only thing on my mind always.” He swallowed hard. “Being drunk doesn’t erase that. It doesn’t change who I am. And who I am is a man who loves you too much to ever risk losing you.”

Your fingers twisted in your lap. "Max it wasn’t just one picture. It was several."

"I know." His voice cracked slightly. "And I hate that it looks so bad, that it hurt you. It was just strangers at a bar, a bunch of misleading angles. If I could go back I’d do it all differently, I’d go straight to my room I’d facetime you instead of letting myself get caught up in the night." He exhaled shakily. "But I can’t change that. All I can do is promise you that nothing happened and that I love you more than anything."

Your throat tightened. He looked so raw, so heartbroken, and it made your chest ache. “Max…”

He inhaled sharply and then he pulled his phone from his pocket, unlocking it without hesitation and handing it to you.

“This is everything from that night,” he said, voice steady despite the turmoil in his eyes. “My texts, my photos, everything. I want you to see it all. I have nothing to hide.”

You stared at the device in your hands, your chest tightening. The openness, the willingness to be completely vulnerable, to let you see it all, this wasn’t the move of a man with something to cover up.

Slowly you scrolled. The messages were nothing but casual conversations with his team and a few with you. The photos he had taken himself were just of the guys, drinks, blurry selfies. And then there were the images online, the ones that had torn a hole in your chest, the original ones that had been sent to him not cropped and edited but the full group shots.

Your hands shook as you looked at them again, this time in the context of what you knew now. The girl was just there, a fan, maybe an acquaintance. The angles, the closeness, it all looked damning. But there was no direct proof of anything intimate.

He moved closer tentatively reaching for your hands. His touch was hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to, but when you didn’t pull away he held them tightly in his own. “I love you. More than anything. Please don’t let this be what breaks us.” His thumbs brushed over the back of your hands.

You let out a shaky breath. “I just…Max, I was so scared.” Your voice cracked, and you hated it, hated how exposed you felt, but you couldn’t stop now. “I saw those pictures, and all I could think was, what if I was wrong about you? What if I was just another idiot who trusted someone too much…again?” You let out a broken laugh, shaking your head. “I swore I’d never let myself go through that again. I swore I’d never be that girl who ignored the warning signs.”

Max's hands tightened around yours, his touch warm and certain. His eyes were shining, his expression open, desperate for you to believe him. “You were never wrong about me,” he said, his voice fierce, unwavering. “Never.”

He leaned in, his grip firm as if he could hold you together by touch alone. “I love you,” he said, the words so sure, so steady, it made your heart ache. “I love you more than I can even explain. You’re it for me.”

“I just… I don’t know how to stop thinking about it,” you admitted.

Max exhaled slowly, his thumbs tracing soft, reassuring circles against your skin. “Then don’t,” he said. “Don’t force yourself to push it away. Talk to me. Ask me anything, yell at me if you have to. Just don’t pull away from me, please.” His voice broke slightly. “I will never hurt you like that. I swear to you.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers curling slightly around his. “I don’t want us to be one of those couples Max. The ones who have to go through each other’s phones or can’t go on a night out without the other. I just want to trust you, to know that we’re solid without needing proof all the time.”

Max nodded. “And you can. I don’t want that kind of relationship either. I want us to be secure, to trust each other without second-guessing. If you ever need reassurance I’ll give it to you, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to doubt me.” He lifted your hands, pressing them against his chest, right over his heart. “You have me. Always.”

You searched his face looking for any sign of dishonesty, any flicker of guilt or hesitation that would suggest he wasn’t telling the full truth. But there was nothing. Just Max. The man who had always been yours, who had never given you a reason to doubt him before this.

"I don’t care what they say. I only care about what you believe. Do you really think I would do that to you?" He asked quietly.

You hesitated. And in that hesitation, Max felt like he might break.

Then, softly, you whispered, "No."

His breath left him in a rush.

"I don’t think you cheated," you admitted, looking down at your joined hands. "I know you Max. I know your heart. And deep down I don’t believe you’d do something like that. But… I’m still hurt. Seeing those pictures, seeing the way people talked about us like they knew everything, like they knew you better than I do…it just made me feel so small. Like it didn’t matter how things would look, because it wouldn’t matter if I got hurt in the process."

Max shook his head immediately. "You are everything to me. The last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you. I didn’t think, it was so stupid and I should’ve been more aware. But I promise you, I would never risk what we have."

A deep, exhausted sigh left your lips. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Max’s face crumpled with relief, his arms wrapping around you before he could stop himself. “You won’t. Never.”

You looked up at him then, and for the first time in days, you really looked at him. He looked like he had been through hell, and you hated that it was because of this.

Tears welled in your eyes, and Max didn’t know if it was a good sign or a bad one, but this time they weren’t from pain they were from relief, from the deep, aching love you had for him that refused to be erased by a few blurry images and cruel words from strangers.

You let him pull you into his arms, burying your face in his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of him. His embrace was warm, steady, everything you had missed these past few days. His lips pressed against the top of your head, lingering there as if he could physically will away any remaining pain.

Your fingers clutched at the fabric of his shirt as a twinge of guilt twisted inside you. “I’m sorry too,” you mumbled against him, voice barely above a whisper. “For overreacting. For being dramatic. I just—I got so in my own head, and I let it spiral, and—”

“Hey.” Max cut you off gently, pulling back just enough to cup your face in his hands. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, his touch steady. “You don’t have to apologise for feeling hurt. You’re allowed to be upset. I never want you to bottle things up just because you’re scared of how I’ll react.”

You nodded, the weight of his reassurance settling over you like a blanket. “I just don’t want to be that kind of person. I don’t want to jump to conclusions or let my insecurities ruin us.”

“You won’t,” he promised. “We talk. We work through it. That’s what matters.” His forehead pressed against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I never want you to feel like you can’t come to me. No matter what, I’d rather you tell me everything you’re feeling even if it hurts than keep it to yourself.”

You let out a shaky breath, "Okay."

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you murmured, pressing your face deeper into the warmth of him.

And when he kissed you, it wasn’t desperate or rushed. It was slow and deliberate, like he was grounding himself in you, reminding himself of what mattered.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, because despite everything, Max was your home.

The paddock was buzzing the moment you and Max arrived. Cameras flashed, microphones were shoved forward, and the murmur of reporters and journalists grew into a full-blown storm as soon as they caught sight of the two of you walking in together. But you held your head high, your hand clasped tightly in Max’s, refusing to let the noise shake you.

You could feel their eyes on you, the weight of their assumptions, their speculations. Just days ago headlines had painted you as the betrayed girlfriend, the one left humiliated in the wake of scandal. But Max hadn’t let the narrative stay that way. He hadn’t let you drown in the noise.

He walked beside you now, strong and unwavering, his grip on your hand firm. He had promised you that he would handle this, that he wouldn’t let you fight alone. And Max Verstappen never broke a promise.

A swarm of reporters gathered the second you both reached the entrance.

“Max! What do you have to say about the scandal?”

“Do you have anything to say about the rumors?”

Instinctively you tightened your grip on Max’s hand. He didn’t hesitate to squeeze back, a silent reassurance as you both pushed forward.

“Keep walking,” he murmured, voice low but firm. “Don’t give them what they want.”

You nodded, ignoring the tightness in your throat. But the reporters weren’t giving up that easily.

“Is your relationship still intact after everything that’s come out?”

His jaw tightened, his gaze sharp and unyielding as he fixed his eyes on the reporter who had spoken first. The cold, unimpressed stare that had shaken rivals on the racetrack was now turned on the media.

“Max do you have any comments about the pictures that surfaced last week?”

“No,” he said bluntly, his voice carrying over the crowd with effortless authority. “Because there’s nothing to comment on.”

The air shifted. Some reporters hesitated, others pressed forward, but Max’s expression didn’t change. He wasn’t here to play into their games. He wasn’t here to give them the reaction they wanted.

Another journalist tried again. “But Max, surely you understand why people are talking. The pictures suggest—”

“Suggest what?” Max cut in sharply, his jaw tightening. “That I can’t even exist in the same space as another woman without ridiculous rumors starting? That a couple of out-of-context images are enough to turn my relationship into a circus? No, I don’t understand.” His voice was firm, authoritative, leaving no room for argument. “What I do understand is that I love my girlfriend and she doesn’t deserve to be dragged through this just because people are desperate for a scandal.”

You squeezed his hand, warmth flooding your chest at his unwavering defense. He wasn’t just standing up for you, he was shutting them down completely.

The reporters didn’t relent. “But the pictures Max—”

“I was out with my team, celebrating,” he said, voice steady but laced with irritation. “Nothing happened. And frankly, I’m done explaining myself to people who don’t even know me.”

The crowd went silent for a moment, stunned by his bluntness. But Max wasn’t done. He turned his gaze directly to the cameras.

“I love her,” he said simply, but with so much weight behind the words that it felt as though your heart had stopped. “And nothing is going to change that.”

The murmurs picked up again, but this time there was a shift in the air. Max had said what needed to be said. There was no room for further questioning.

In the chaos, notifications buzzed endlessly on people’s phones all over again, tweets flying out in real-time as the internet erupted over his words.

@F1Fanatic: Max Verstappen just SHUT DOWN the media with the most protective boyfriend energy I’ve ever seen. “I love her and nothing is going to change that”??? I AM UNWELL.

@RacingInsider: Max Verstappen publicly defending his girlfriend, refusing to play into the media’s nonsense, and making it clear where he stands? Respect.

@SportsBuzz: Verstappen to the press: “I love her and nothing is going to change that.” The man said what he said. Case closed.

@GossipGrid: Max Verstappen and his girlfriend arrived at the paddock hand-in-hand, completely unfazed by the drama. Looks like the couple is stronger than ever.

The headlines followed within minutes, flooding every sports and gossip site imaginable.

Max Verstappen Breaks Silence: “I Love Her and Nothing is Going to Change That”

Verstappen Defends Girlfriend Amidst Media Scrutiny “I’m Done Explaining Myself”

Stronger Than Ever? Verstappen and [Y/N] Arrive Together at the Paddock

Max Verstappen Crushes Cheating Rumours with Fiery Response to Reporters

But none of it mattered. Not the reporters still murmuring, not the cameras still flashing, not the internet analysing every second of the moment.

As you both moved past the crowd, the noise faded into the background. You glanced up at Max, his grip on your hand relaxing slightly as you walked further into the paddock.

“Thank you,” you whispered, just for him.

He looked down at you, eyes softening in contrast to the sharpness he had shown the media just moments ago. “I meant every word.”

And with that, you both moved forward together, leaving the noise behind.

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dreamdragonkadia · 29 days ago

Note

would you consider writing a jealous xaden riorson? please andd thank youuu 🥹🥹

I thought about writing this into a spicy scene, but I am so out of practice that I didn't want to mess it up. x.riorson x reader

You hadn’t thought to bring it up. Not because you were hiding anything—but because it just... hadn’t mattered. It had been before becoming a rider. Before the Gauntlet. Before Threshing. Before Xaden Riorson had started looking at you like the world might crack in two if you didn’t make it through the next challenge.

You and Septon Izar had ended things cleanly, amicably, and left it at that. He’d been a friend before, and somehow, he still was—one of the few people who hadn’t flinched when you first started sitting with the marked ones. Honestly, his support during that time had meant more than you'd ever said aloud.

And honestly? Since Xaden? You hadn’t thought about Septon once. And maybe, maybe, you had mentioned it to Xaden. In passing. At most.

But judging by the sudden silence that swept through the dining hall—and the way Xaden’s head snapped toward you the second Septon opened his mouth—you definitely hadn’t mentioned that part.

"I think we only had sex twice," Septon said casually, sipping from his cup like he hadn’t just tossed a live drake into the center of the table. “And both times we were pretty drunk.”

You blinked.

What?

Your fork hovered above your plate as the table fell into a mixture of choked laughter and stunned silence. Garrick muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like oh shit. Nyra was already dragging her hands down her face. Bodhi looked delighted. Of course he did—this had his meddling written all over it.

You squinted up at Septon. “Man, that was so long ago, I barely remember.”

Xaden didn’t say anything.

Didn’t have to.

Not when you could feel the way his gaze landed on you—deadly calm, unreadable, and very, very still.

Someone coughed. Garrick kicked Bodhi under the table. Septon, gods bless his complete lack of self-preservation, raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not like it meant anything,” he added, glancing between you and Xaden with a shrug. “We were just—”

"Don’t," Xaden said, voice low and even, but it carried like a cold front.

The entire table froze.

“Anyway,” you said quickly, forcing a smile as you turned your attention down the table, “Nyra, I don’t think I’ve ever heard about your physical escapades. Please, if we’re airing things out, do share.”

There was a pause.

Then Nyra leaned back with a knowing small grin. “Which year?”

And just like that, the conversation shifted. Nyra launched into a truly unhinged story involving a third-year from Rider’s Quadrant, two years ago and a storage closet full of training gear.

Everyone moved on.

Except you.

Because while the rest of the table erupted into laughter, Bodhi caught your eye and gave you a subtle salute—good luck with that—and Xaden’s shadows curled around your calves in a slow, possessive climb.

You had really thought that would be it. Completely and utterly it. There was nothing there.

You and Septon were barely a footnote, a hiccup in your timeline. But clearly, someone at the table had missed that memo—and that someone was now walking three paces behind you, silent, shadows brushing the edge of your steps like a warning.

You turned the corner just past the gym hall, fully intending to head toward the dorms, but a hand caught your arm—not rough, but firm—and suddenly, you were being pulled into a recessed archway you hadn’t even noticed.

Xaden didn’t speak at first.

Just looked at you.

That onyx stare that made it feel like he was peeling back your skin to see what was underneath. His jaw was tight, shadows curling restlessly around his boots.

“You’re mad,” you said flatly.

“I’m not mad,” he said. “I’m…” He exhaled through his nose, like he was trying to force the word back in. “You never told me.”

“I didn’t think I had to,” you shot back, arms folding. “It was nothing, Xaden. It was before.”

His brow twitched. “I watched him look at you like he still wanted something.”

“He was talking to Bodhi!”

“He was talking to you.”

You stared at him, pulse thrumming harder than it should’ve been. “Are you seriously jealous right now?”

His shadows surged, crawling up your spine like a storm about to break.

“No,” he said, stepping closer. “I’m possessive. There’s a difference.”

Your back hit the wall.

His hand came to rest beside your head, not quite touching, but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him in waves. His voice dropped lower, into that gravel-smooth edge that made your knees a little unstable.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, eyes flickering down to your mouth, “and I don’t like being surprised.”

Your heart tripped over itself.

And because your pride had a death wish, you arched a brow and said, “Well, maybe I do.”

That was apparently the final straw.

He kissed you like it was a declaration, like he had to remind you—remind himself—that he knew every part of you better than anyone ever had. His hands found your hips, grip just shy of rough, and your fingers curled in his shirt like you needed something to hold onto before the ground gave way.

“Tell me again,” he said against your lips, voice thick with something that wasn't just anger, “how it meant nothing.”

Your breath caught—because you couldn’t. Not with the way he was looking at you. The only thing that mattered.

“It didn’t,” you whispered, barely audible. “It didn’t mean anything.”

He lingered there, just for a second, his forehead brushing yours as if he was searching for the truth in your skin. And then, with no more warning than a flick of his shadows, he pulled back just enough to say, “Come with me.”

You followed him without thinking.

Past cadets loitering in the halls, past flickering sconces and low murmurs, up flights of stairs that you barely registered because your heart was thundering in your chest. Xaden didn’t look back once—but his shadows stayed close, curling possessively around your wrist like a tether, a silent mine whispered over and over again in the dark.

By the time you reached his room, your pulse was high in your throat.

He opened the door, stepped inside—and then, just as you were about to follow, his hand shot out.

And pulled you in.

Hard.

You stumbled, but only for a heartbeat—because he was already there, catching you, pinning you back against the closed door with a thud that echoed in the silence.

“You think I care that it happened before me?” he murmured, his mouth brushing along your jaw, your neck. “I don’t.”

You shivered.

“I care that you didn’t tell me,” he continued, his hand sliding to your waist, hot through the thin fabric of your shirt. “I care that he thought he could say your name like that. Look at you like that.”

“Xaden—”

“I’m not going to be polite about it,” he interrupted, voice a low rasp. “I’m not going to pretend I’m okay hearing another man talk about what’s mine like it’s some casual memory.”

His lips found the corner of your mouth again, softer this time. A contrast to the words that came next.

“You’re not his story to tell.”

Your breath hitched.

“You want to tell me it meant nothing?” he asked, gaze catching yours with such intensity it felt like a command. “Then let me show the world who you belong with.”

Your hands fisted in his shirt, dragging him down.

And he did.

#✨️by yours truly✨️#fourth wing x reader #fourth wing #fw #xaden x reader #xaden riorson x reader #xaden riorson #listening to the maplestory soundtrack #😭😭 i cant explain it but Ereve ost just hits

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yanderenightmare · 8 months ago

Text

TW: anger issues, abuse, angst

gn reader

Thinking about boyfriends with anger issues…

How it’s okay in the beginning because your relationship is still fresh, and you’re both trying your best to be perfect for each other. How it’s enough for you to tell him he’s being silly with a sweet kiss to his grumpy cheek when he’s acting grumpy and insisting on having some type of fight with you over something unimportant. It’s enough to defuse him at that point—your unnerving smile and kind eyes, how you’re able to touch him even when he feels nuclear. The knots untangle within his head, and he calms down. He doesn’t apologize, but he gets sheepish and plays dumb until he’s cracking you up with some dumb joke—so you forgive him anyway.

The fights get worse over time, but so do the good times. He’s so perfect when he’s good, you forget about the bad. And you’re still able to disengage, at least most of the time. You can leave or ignore and dismiss—you can even agree to be wrong sometimes, even when you’re not. It doesn’t really matter. Those arguments are never about who’s right anyway—it’s just about fighting to see who can outlast the other. You swear, sometimes it feels like you’re the accused on the stand in a courtroom, but the judge has vacated, and it’s just you against the lawyer hurling pointed question after question at you.

Oh, but then he brings flowers, makes you smile and laugh, does something romantic, and tells you sweet nothings that make you blush. It feels right when you move in together. You love him. And you know he loves you. He still doesn’t ever apologize for his behavior—at least not with words—but he tries making up for it otherwise. After particularly nasty fights, when you go to sleep without him and without sharing another word, he’s on his best and brightest behavior the day after—makes you breakfast, drives you to work, offers to pick you up, suggests you do something fun later.

It's soothing that he knows he’s in the wrong. It makes it easier to forgive him. Makes you believe he’ll change.

Only he doesn’t.

The bathroom becomes your escape, a space you can retreat to when you’re on the brink. You don’t want to cry in front of him—he can get so mean sometimes, and the tears just egg him on like it’s some game he’s winning. It doesn’t really dawn on you that you’re hiding from him. If you admit that to yourself, nothing would make sense anymore. If you admit that to yourself, you wouldn’t be able to defend staying with him. And so you can’t. You suppress it. You’re not hiding from him—if he were to come knock on the door to let him in, you’d let him in. So you’re not hiding from him. No, you’re just in there for a quick breath of your own and to give him a little space.

But though you deny it, he feels you slipping away—and it only serves to make him more combatant. Raised voices turn into roaring—you fear the neighbors might complain. Nothing works anymore. If you walk away, he follows angrier than before. If you agree to disagree, he’ll only use it against you. If you cry, he laughs.

The time you get as ugly as he gets and start fighting back with your own insults is when he puts his fist through the wall right next to you.

The house shakes for a moment, then stands still. All is silent. Neither of you moves. You’re as stiff as a mannequin, and your eyes have never been wider—and yet you don’t look at him. Your gaze is fixed at nothing in particular as if unable to look anywhere else. You have a hand against his chest—it shakes. He feels it, and it’s a gross feeling—worse than the pain in his hand.

And he knows. He knows he’s ruined it. He knows it’s the exact moment he’s lost you.

No, actually. He probably lost you a while back…

He pulls his fist out of the drywall—the thin plate follows him before he drags it out with force. Dust and fibers stick to his skin in blotches where the blood coats his hand, seeping from the splits on his knuckles. It stings, but it isn’t the worst. No, his chest feels worse.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers hoarsely through the strain in his tightening throat. “I’m sorry.” He can never repeat it enough for it to be enough. Fuck, what’s he done? What can he do? There’s a gaping hole in the wall he has you pressed up against, and it’s about to swallow him up.

“You’re bleeding,” comes your voice—as from the break of light in a stormy sky that reminds him it’s still day. “We need to disinfect it.”

He doesn’t dare protest, even as it confuses him how trivial you are about it. He just trails after you as you take him to the bathroom and clean him up. Holding his damaged hand in both of yours while you guide it under the tap, rinsing off the debris and blood, letting it all go down the drain. He didn’t even know you had a first aid kit, but you seem well-versed for some reason—how you dab the cuts with alcohol-soaked cotton, then tape shut the deeper slits before wrapping it all in a strip of bandage.

You take him to the bedroom, but neither of you speaks. He’s afraid to. And yet, both of you say goodnight while lying on opposite sides of the bed. He doesn’t know what feeling it is that simmers within his chest, but it makes it the worst night of his life.

And still, he must have slept soundly.

You’re gone in the morning—you’re essential things with you.

It’s strange, but he isn’t even angry. No… You left a note for him, but he can’t read it—not through the swelling of his eyes as they burn with salt and water and regrets that know no end.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks, Enji, Shinso ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Naoya, Megumi, Toji ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Kageyama, Iwaizumi, Sakusa, Ukai ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin ♡ AOT – Eren, Levi ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

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postmoe · 2 months ago

Note

I find it attractive of a beta or alpha get turned into an omega if they get fucked to much. So what about yandere alpha geshu lin x beta/alpha male reader x yandere alpha jiyan. Or yandere Mydei x beta/alpha male Reader x yandere alpha Phainon. Reader getting turned into an omega so they can keep him all to themselves and maybe baby trap him 🤭.

dude i have so many beta fantasies it's not even funny. thank you for this opportunity.

non-con, abo, male reader, beta -> omega reader,

It was always the three of you; Phainon, Mydei, (Y/n). You went through training together, fought the hardest battles together, everyone revered you like you were unstoppable.

Well, everyone respected you in a passive/aggressive way because you were covered in the musk of two supreme alphas. Unfortunately for you, in the womb, you never grew to the next stage from being a beta.

Betas were pretty rare now, they started off as the dominant second gender, but as time grew so did the power of evolution. Everyone starts off in the womb as a beta, then months down the line you unlock your social status. Sometimes, you just get stuck as the runt. There have been few cases of people opening their second gender later in life, though only within a very specific fate of events.

It's not all bad. Apparently, Mydei's and Phainon's scent was so extreme that a lot of people couldn't stand near them for a certain amount of time. Alpha's get antsy, compliment or aggressive. Omegas have gone into heat on the spot, rolling over motionless as their hormones take over. Now, they're pretty good at controlling their smell, or so everyone says.

It never bothered you to begin with, your nose not suited to judge others. You couldn't read emotions if it wasn't present on their face, which in this day and age is more of a talent than anything; at least, that's what Phainon says to make you feel better.

For a beta to get this far in life is pretty astonishing. You realise you had a lot of help from your two friends. They've been able to sniff you out when you're in danger, or their scent that lingers on your clothes is enough to stop any intelligent bandit or monster. However, even when you're feeling down about it, even when the world criticizes you for 'using' two alphas to your advantage, they both have been there to keep you reeled in.

"Why do you even bother trying to lie to us," Mydei huffs, crossing his arms over his puffed out chest, "You have a smell, too. It's not like we don't know what you're feeling."

"That's unfair," you sigh, shoulders slumping, "Maybe I just don't want to talk about it, ever think of that?"

Phainon nods, his arms coming to drape over your shoulders from behind, rubbing his cheek against yours, "Everyone is allowed to have their secrets."

You roll your eyes, going back to polishing your sword with the rag while he lounges against you, "It's not even a secret, just the usual shit." You go silent for a moment, feeling their eyes burn holes into for more information. It should have been common knowledge by now that you won't get out of anything from them, so you gently place your sword down groan, "Fine! I walked past one of your fan groups today. An omega was saying how I was only holding back your true potential, that with me on the battlefield then you can't go all out."

Both of them opened their mouths to speak, you held up your hand to zip them shut.

"And before you say anything; yes, I know that I'm strong too. Yes, I know I can fight. Yes, I know they're just 'jealous' that I get to hang around you." You can't make eye contact with either of them, knowing that you might just crack if you do, "... It doesn't always help. I'm okay with that, though. This is the life I chose and I can deal with all the shit thrown my way."

Phainon buried his face in your neck, sniffling into one of your more sensitive parts, the scent glands. You shivered from the contact, he didn't seem to mind as he practically cried, "You're so strong, (Y/n)! But you know, you still have to take care of your mental health, too. I think you should stay away from those people for a while."

Mydei stood from his spot on the grass and walked over, ruffling your hair with his hand before dragging it down your face and to trace your neck, "We haven't been around because of the recent attacks, so our scent is waning from you. Here, we'll ward them off."

You shook your head out of their grip and rolled to the side, away from them, "I don't need you to scare anyone away by smothering me. I think your scent only makes them more mad."

"It's natural biology for an alpha to cover what's theirs in their smell, you can't just tell us to stop," Phainon argues, shrugging like it's the most obvious thing.

With a laugh, you stand and pick up your sword, "Since when am I yours?"

They both silently looked to each other, communicating in a language you would never understand. Mydei tells you, "You've been our beta longer than you've been alone."

"Yep~" Phainon teases, "Should have thought about that before you became our friend."

Yeah, right. One day these two will find their omegas, they'll create a beautiful family and you can be the cool, beta uncle that showers the kids in annoying gifts to rile up their parents. "Sure, whatever," you dismiss, now taking on an offensive stance, "So, we sparring or what?"

...

Storm season is fast approaching in this part of the land. You three had been sent out patrol the far, outer lands on a 'boys' camping trip'. The trek made you sweaty, the days humid and the nights cold, yet you didn't stop until you reached an open cave near the top of the mountain.

Forests surround you, rushing rivers and falls heard in the distance, and the sounds of insects chirping were drowning your ears. You had abandoned your shirt long ago, rolling yourself in insect repellent that did well to make your two companions scrunch up their noses in distaste.

As you set down the heavy bags in the cave, the sun setting in the distance, you noticed some faded, rock drawings on the walls. Walking up to them, you see crude images of stick figure deaths, a chimera with little hearts around it and a spurting dick. Phainon placed his hand on your shoulder, "Mydei drew the penis."

You both look over to see him skulling his sack of water, giving you both the middle finger. You purse your lips, "Even though I've known you for so long, it's always weird to see such a childish side of you."

After setting up camp, you realise how much you may have missed when you weren't able to accompany them on missions. This place is gorgeous, and they only tell tales of greater environments, it left you feeling a sense of awe and a pang of sadness. When they laugh together, bicker, playfully shove at each other, you can see it the way everyone else sees it.

Two, great alphas Mydei and Phainon - plus you. Little, ol' beta you.

It's nothing to get worked up over. Not a big deal, not an issue at all. You notice they've stopped talking and are looking at you with concern. Fuck. Why are you having this crisis now of all times? They can definitely smell you, they know what you're feeling and they're expecting an answer.

You smile at them widely, "Sorry, I just got lost in a daydream." Can they smell when you lie, too? If so, they speak nothing of it.

...

Being able to swim in such beautiful, clean water was a luxury you didn't know you needed. The baths and streams around Okhema were amazing, there's no doubt about it. Hot springs sent from natural sources, lotions and soaps created from the best ingredients, but this... This was something altogether new.

The water was a cold that made your muscles relax, the flavour refreshing and dare you say, curative. The sound was a delightful white noise of rushing water and splashing ripples from either of you or the fish that swim by.

On the shore, Phainon was the last to disrobe, the three of you deciding to skinny dip as a fun, good morning. You greet him with a smile as he resurfaces from bombing into the water, shaking your face of stray droplets, "Are you sure it's alright for us all to be here? I really think one of us should keep watch at the cave."

He lays on his back, closing his eyes while he floats around you, "Don't stress, there are others at points around the outer city. Someone is always watching from one direction or another."

"I see... I guess I'm just wor-" your voice is cut off as your ankle is suddenly grabbed and you're yanked down under the surface. You see the blurry image of Mydei, the red tattooed lines on his skin the main stand out for the fuzzy, underwater alpha.

The two of you duke it out - poorly - until you both resurface and you're gasping for air. He huffs out a breath of his own, hiding any semblance of exhaustion, "You're going to need to fight better than that if you want to get on our level."

As if coming to your rescue, Phainon swims over to him, "Oh, please, as if it's normal for someone to be capable of fighting under water." He then winks to you before shoving the blonde's head down, effectively drowning him out.

The three of you relax around the falls, floating idly in the water side-by-side. You think you could fall asleep, except your nose twitches at an interesting smell. You've smelt it before, very faintly and only when they really push it. What can be excruciatingly stunning to others, you only get a whiff of as a beta; the smell of these alphas.

Mydei and Phainon are a rare sort, extremely strong and capable of power beyond mosts comprehension. A few people are rare like that, some omegas even being too intoxicating for the outside world. It's a pleasant smell, to you, something you not-so-secretly indulge in whenever you get the chance. It also makes you feel slightly more normal.

You wade over and gently rest your head on the upper part of Mydei's stomach, closing your eyes and sighing happily, "I don't get why people can't be around you guys if you're too strong. I like your smell."

Phainon playfully pouts at you choosing Mydei, coming over to join you and rest his head on his chest. He inhales the Kremnoan's scent, smiling serenely, "Omega's and Alpha's never really stop developing their senses until their mid 30's. The older you get, even smells like perfumes can become too much, let alone the emotions of someone with tremendous power."

"Does that mean you guys aren't holding back anymore if I can smell you?"

Mydei moves a wet hand to pet your head, "We don't need to hold back up here."

"Besides," Phainon gazes at you with a fondness in his eyes, "It's nice to share something so personal with someone close, don't you think?"

They can't just relax like this around anyone, and since you all spend most of your time in the city, you hardly get a chance to get a whiff of them. A giddy smile decorates your face, your eyes closing as you relax once more, "Yeah, I agree."

...

On the third day you notice something odd. Your friend's seem to be more agitated, little offsets leading to snarling and biting, every twig snap or rustle has them staring in that direction in case of a particular threat.

You've never seen them like this.

They must be stressed by all the work that's been unloaded onto them. An argument broke out five minutes ago about something you didn't understand, the two deciding to take a walk to cool off and collect more firewood. You decide that this is the perfect time to help them out, picking up a sword and attaching it to your waist before heading out on a patrol. When you get back, they can relax at the duties already being fulfilled.

You don't know the area very well, however, you did accompany them the past couple of nights so you have an idea of where to go. You're not too stressed about getting lost, the trail somewhat visible to someone like you, who has been taught overcome these kinds of obstacles. What you didn't expect was that it gets darker quicker under the canopy of trees.

It appeared you had an hour of daylight left, yet only fifteen minutes later and you noticed a dramatic change. The mountains are certainly an interesting place to be, you're usually stationed closer to the city and nearer the fallen towns.

With the darkness comes fauna that arouse at night, a particular croak gaining your attention. You crouch down with interest, seeing a teal coloured frog with a lighter stomach hop into a puddle. It was smaller than the palm of your hand, yet the sound it made was so loud you would never expect it to come from such a tiny creature.

Your admiration was halted as you hear heavy thumping from deeper in the brush. It's fast, leaves and sticks being moved and thrown out of the way to make room for whatever is coming at you. You quickly draw your sword and take a defensive stance, readying for whatever may be in store.

If it's a boar or something similar, you could climb one of the thicker trees and make your way around by jumping branches. If it's something more like a giant bush cat, then you would have no choice but to fight it.

Turns out, it was neither. Before you had the opportunity to lay eyes on it, there is ablur of movement and your weapon is thrusted from your hand, flying off and landing into the dark distance. You're immediately incapacitated, wrist close to snapping and arm yanked back as you're brought to your knees.

Mydei is snarling aggressively in your ear, holding you down like some convict trying to escape. He spits his words like venom, "What the fuck did you think you were doing? Are you stupid?! Leaving the nest like that wandering off on your own!"

You cry out in pain as he tightens his grip, the sound and pheromones you let off making him back off slightly but not letting go.

Before you can ask what the hell is going on, Phainon appears behind you and walks around so he can kneel at your front. He tenderly cradles your face and looks over you for any other injuries, "Don't hurt him, Mydei. He made a stupid decision but it wasn't his fault."

A breath of relief leaves you when he finally lets go. You slump and cradle your aching arm, flinching when Mydei falls to his knees behind you and resting his face in the crook of your neck. He mumbles into your flesh, "Why did you leave like that? You could have gotten hurt."

With a new found annoyance, you flick Phainon's hands away from you and shrug the other off your back, "What the fuck??? Why are you both acting like I just up and left?"

"Because you did up and leave," Mydei growls, only halting when he and Phainon meet with a hard glare. He tuts and stands, making sure you have nowhere to run if you decided to flee, "We should have just been outright with him from the beginning."

You didn't like the sound of that. Without a word, you look to Phainon for an answer, Mydei is acting too impulsive for your liking right now. Phainon stands before you, both of them now crowding any escape with how close they are, "In truth, we brought you up here because we knew our ruts were coming and we wanted you with us."

"P-Pardon?" It was so incredulous you were sure you heard wrong. But, what else could he have said? "You do know what I am, right? We've only known each other for a couple of decades so be honest if you need a reminder."

Mydei scoffs and grabs you by the back of your shirt, hefting you to your tippy toes to growl, "Our Beta's got jokes. If you can jest then you can mate."

"WHAT?!" You kick your feet comically in the air, trying to find some sort of purchase, "I can't mate - I physically cannot mate! Not with an Alpha!!"

Phainon chimes in giddily, "Two Alphas! Don't worry, we'll ensure you're thoroughly pregnant by the end of this rut."

Body limits aside, being a beta means your reproductive organs aren't open to be used. They're sitting inside you, dormant. For some reason, you don't think they see that as a drawback, instead viewing your biology as more of a challenge to be tackled.

...

Day six and you're sore. Your legs, which have been in every position possible. Your arms, which are restrained when they're doing anything that's not fucking you. Your poor, poor hole, which hasn't been dry in days. Your oversensitive cock, now you can't tell what liquid comes out, your last orgasm streaming like piss on the rock below.

Phainon drags his hot, wet tongue up your neck, moaning as he slips his erected cock into you again. Your mouth hangs open, arse clenching when he's stopped by his knot hitting your rim. He's got you in a full nelson, your thighs over his own, a sound of discomfort coming from you at the stretch of his knot trying to enter you.

He shudders, lightly humping upwards, "Do you smell that, Mydei? He's changing."

Mydei flops his own dick in your face, tracing his leaking tip along the bone of your cheek before he slips his length between your lips, "How interesting. All our darling beta needed was a little push."

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as they fuck you again, your pretty, little hole gaping ever larger to accommodate them.

...

The cold, wet soil near the falls was blissful on your overheating skin. You've never felt this hot before, you assume it's a fever coming on from being under these two for however many days now. Mydei has you on your back, tongue swirling and mouth slurping at your puckered arse.

It was nice to just relax and be tended to, as fucked up as that seems. Phainon was behind him, washing his own body and admiring the scene before him.

Mydei licks a stripe from your hole, up the length of your taint and to your flaccid cock. He coos patronisingly, kissing the sensitive tip and making you jolt, "Poor sweetheart, have we been too rough with you?"

It's too little too late to ask you that now. You stick with your mission of giving them the silent treatment unless necessary, turning your head away and closing your eyes, thinking back on the coolness of the soil.

Until, "A-Ahh! S-Stop!" You moan, hands going to his hair and yanking as hard as you can, trying to stop him from swallowing your cock and drinking it over and over again. The way his tongue and cheeks move against your flesh has you throbbing and twitching in his mouth. "I can't, I can't," you breathe, swaying your head side to side as if to deny the oncoming torture.

But you can't, even half-hard he has you spurting your cum down his throat. You hold his head down with each half-hearted thrust, only to pull again before another tingling jolt of your hips.

When you can open your eyes again, you pleadingly gaze to Phainon, who had paused his washing to stare solely at you both. His eyes dart to meet yours, mind working overtime to bring him out of his daze and pull lightly on his companion, "Hey, save some for me, okay? Let him recuperate a bit."

Mydei flies his elbow back, not getting off you. At this, Phainon clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and locks the blonde's head with his elbow, flipping him back into the water.

You take a deep breath as they start to wrestle. Now you can rest again, you rarely get time to yourself now. When they sleep, sometimes, you're still plugged with one of them inside you, cockwarming throughout the night. Otherwise, when they go hunting, you might be tied tightly inside the cave, though there is usually at least one of them with you.

A gentle rain starts, the drops hitting your heated face. You need this, the rain a lot cooler than the falls as it collects in the sky. Lately, you've been feeling weird, unwell, hot. It's unlike anything you've ever experienced before.

Not to mention their scent. The boys' sweat, bodies, just everything about them is becoming less off putting and more desirable than ever. If you're honest, you're scared with what's happening.

...

They had both left you in the cave, the rain a perfect mask for hunting good meat right now.

"Need to keep our darling's energy up!"

You're not sure when, but some time after they left you were reeling in some sort of pain. Not like being slashed by a sword, or thrown by an enemy, but more like a strange punch to the gut. It blossomed within you and bloomed around your body, effecting your head and pelvis the most.

Breathing became difficult, your chest rising and falling quickly, you couldn't focus on how to fix it. No, not with the gnawing pain and discomfort in your gut.

You had wormed your way towards the entrance but the rope only let you go so far. They didn't give you enough leeway to get more than halfway through the cave, which meant you couldn't get any rain to cool you down.

What you did find, however, was their sashes they didn't wear today. Your nose twitched, and you reached your tied wrists over so your fingers could grab the red fabric and scrunched it to your face, moaning in absolute delight. Quickly, you secured the blue and gold one and weaved it between your legs, covering as much of your body as you could.

You're not sure when they came back, only realising they were standing ominously at the entrance of the cave when their musk started to seep heavier than the sashes you were breathing. The rain hadn't let up, both of them drenched and Mydei holding the antlers of a dead deer beside him.

Your jaw trembles, tears running down your cheeks as you whimper, "What's happening to me?"

It's only when you talk do they enter, dropping the carcass to the side before carefully kneeling down to cradle you. Your ropes are torn off and you sit between the two men, both leaning so they can run their teeth over the scent glands in your neck.

You whine as Mydei gently nibbles you, a low groan causing your cock to leak rivulets down your shaft, "Perfect for biting now."

Phainon reaches to gasp your cock, smoothly jerking up the length before circling his fingers along the glands, "I knew your unawaken second gender was this. You just had to be an omega, what with the way you were taunting us; begging to be bred."

Unawaken... Omega? No, that's-

"Hah~ Please..." You lift your hips when you feel fingers enter inside you, easily stretching you open now.

Mydei chuckles deeply, grinning at all the new possibilities going through his head, "Perfect for knotting now, too."

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