#-what drives them away. it doesn't by the way and he just wasted time being a cold indecisive loser for several months lmao

[buttercup-barf]

Under the cut are mostly self-insert doodles of decreasing quality. Again, not much directly tied to Team Fortress 2. Might as well toss these out while I have no access to my puter. Much yapping under the cut and in the tags incoming.

Another self-insert, this time less of a "here's me as a tenth class" and more of a "here's my game experiences translated into the class I would take the place of". The Cleaner. Although I guess they could still be wearing either suit. It doesn't matter that much.

That one Convict's Case taunt with Backup would be extremely funny, because the man would be on the verge of a breakdown (he does not want to go to jail so bad you have no idea). The second image- I owe no explanation. You know what I am. You see the pattern with my favourites.

The duality of the man. Resting face versus "just heard you express interest in religion/Russian folklore" face. He's not that hard to make friends with, when you pull him away from all the explosions.

Some doodles of trying to figure his face out. Unfortunately, the more I stare at him, the more I worry that he looks like A Certain Guy With The Last Name "Kazarin", and the fear of never being original in my life caught up to me.

Don't look at me, don't perceive me, I refuse to explain any of my actions to you.

[its-avalon-08]

Hi, could you do a Ferando angst to fluff fic where he and Reader have been dating since his return to F1 and he is frustrated with the team's current season and the reader tries to assure him that everything is going be better and he takes his frustration out on her and they have an argument to the point where he calls her by his ex's name and with that she gives up on continuing the argument and locks herself in the guest room while crying and rethinking their entire relationship, while he tries to apologize and is unsuccessful and goes out to cool his head, and after she woke up, she packs some bags to travel to her modeling gig but before leaving, even though she is sad with his attitude, leaves a note saying that she needs some time to think and that she will be traveling for work so that he doesn't worry thinking that it was all over between them. And during this time, Fernando feels guilty for taking out his frustrations on the person who was always by his side and tries in every way to win Reader back and try to work on their relationship. When the news comes out that he doesn't feel well, Reader gets worried about what might have happened to him and comes back early and takes care of him. In addition to him apologizing for being an idiot and promising to work on their relationship more and not let the frustrations with the team affect their relationship. When his 400th race arrives, he thanks her for being there for him through the good and bad times and tells her how important she is to him.

don't run away (fa2)

✦ pairing - fernando alonso x female!reader

✦ genre - ansgt, ansgt, ansgt, tears, calling ex's name

It started slowly, subtle shifts in Fernando’s demeanor that crept in like shadows. At first, it was nothing that couldn’t be shrugged off—the usual frustrations of a tough season. But as the races wore on and the team struggled to deliver consistent results, his patience began to unravel.

At the garage, he’d be fine in the morning, shaking hands with the engineers, throwing a nod to the mechanics. But as soon as a practice session went poorly or a technical issue cropped up, his mood would turn. He’d clench his jaw, mutter under his breath in Spanish, and become more withdrawn, his usual intensity morphing into something harsher.

Y/N noticed it the most at home. After every disappointing race or qualifying session, he’d come back and barely say a word. The warm, easygoing Fernando she loved was gradually being replaced by a man who was angry, stressed, and constantly on edge.

One evening, after a particularly bad qualifying, Fernando slammed the door to their apartment harder than usual. Y/N looked up from the book she was reading on the couch, catching sight of his dark, stormy expression.

“Hey, you’re home,” she greeted gently, hoping to lift his spirits. She stood up, reaching out to him, but he just sighed, brushing past her and heading straight for the kitchen.

She followed him, watching as he poured himself a glass of water, his movements sharp and frustrated.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked cautiously, hoping he’d let her in.

He shook his head, barely glancing at her. “Nothing to talk about,” he muttered. “It’s just the same issues over and over again. They promise they’ll fix it, and nothing changes. I’m just wasting my time out there.”

She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “Maybe it’s just a rough patch? I’m sure the team’s doing everything they can—”

“Are they?” he interrupted, his tone sharp. He set his glass down with a little too much force, the sound echoing in the quiet kitchen. “Because it doesn’t feel like it. Feels like I’m out there driving my heart out for nothing.”

Y/N took a step closer, trying to ease the tension. “Fernando, it’s not for nothing. You’re doing your best, and that’s what matters.”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “What’s the point of my best if it doesn’t get me anywhere? I can’t keep doing this, Y/N. It’s exhausting.”

She reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “I know, cariño. But I’m here for you, okay? We’ll get through this together.”

But instead of softening, he pulled his arm away, exasperation flashing in his eyes. “What do you mean ‘we’? I’m the one putting in the work, putting myself on the line out there. You don’t understand, Y/N—you don’t know what it’s like to be stuck in this situation, giving everything and getting nothing in return.”

Her eyes widened slightly, the sting of his words hitting her. She took a small step back, giving him space. “I may not be out there with you,” she said softly, “but I know how much you care about this. I’m only trying to help.”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” But even as he apologized, he didn’t meet her eyes. The tension lingered between them, unspoken and heavy.

In the days that followed, the distance between them grew. Fernando started coming home later and later, throwing himself into extra training or staying at the garage long after everyone else had gone. At home, he was irritable, snapping over the smallest things, and often retreating to his study, leaving Y/N alone to wonder what she could do to help.

One evening, as she prepared dinner, she heard him sigh loudly from the living room. She walked over, trying once more to bring him out of his gloom.

“Do you want to talk about the race debrief?” she asked, offering a hopeful smile.

Fernando looked up from his phone, a frown creasing his brow. “Not really, no.”

“But maybe if you let it out, it’ll—”

“Y/N, I don’t need a pep talk right now,” he snapped, his voice cold and clipped. “I’m not a child who needs consoling every time something goes wrong.”

Her face fell, and she took a step back, the hurt evident in her eyes. “I just… I want to be here for you, Fernando. That’s all.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, raking a hand through his hair. “Well, maybe I need space right now. Maybe I just want to deal with this on my own without someone trying to fix everything all the time.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp. She opened her mouth to respond but stopped herself, pressing her lips together as she nodded, retreating back to the kitchen, her heart aching.

As the weeks went by, their conversations became shorter, stilted. The vibrant, passionate Fernando she knew was slipping away, replaced by a man consumed by frustration and self-doubt. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to reach him, to pull him out of the storm he was drowning in.

Each night, she would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what else she could do, how she could bridge the growing gap between them. But every morning, she would wake up to see him leave earlier, come back later, and pull away even more.

The man who used to laugh with her, who would dance around the kitchen with her, who whispered sweet nothings in her ear, had been buried under layers of anger and exhaustion. And as much as she tried to hold on, she could feel him slipping away.

--

The dim lights cast a soft glow over the living room as Y/N leaned against the edge of the kitchen counter, watching Fernando. She could see the frustration in his face, the tense set of his jaw as he rubbed his temples, his posture rigid with the weight of the latest race. She wanted to comfort him, to reassure him that it would get better, but every word she’d tried earlier had been met with a wall of silence.

“Fernando,” she began softly, inching closer. “You know, this season is just a rough patch. You've faced so much worse and come back stronger every time. You’re going to—”

“Y/N, stop.” Fernando’s voice came out sharper than he intended, and his eyes darkened with an intensity that made her heart falter. “You don’t understand. It’s not just a rough patch. This whole season has been a disaster, and every race, it feels like I'm just fighting against nothing. Nothing is working.”

“I do understand, though,” she insisted gently, keeping her voice calm. “I know how much it hurts. But it’s not all on you. The team is trying, you’re trying—”

“Trying?” he scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “It doesn’t matter if I’m trying. No one cares if I try. All they care about is results, and right now, I can’t give them that. So what’s the point?”

“The point is that you’ve always been a fighter,” Y/N said, feeling a swell of frustration herself. “You’ve never been the kind of person to just give up. But here you are, acting like—”

“Oh, please, spare me the motivational speech!” Fernando snapped, his voice rising. “Do you think I haven’t heard all of this before? Do you think any of it actually helps?”

“I'm just trying to be here for you, Fernando!” she replied, her voice breaking slightly. “You’re pushing everyone away, and I’m the only one left standing. Do you want to push me away, too?”

“You don’t get it,” he muttered, looking away, a storm brewing in his gaze. “You’re just…you’re just making it worse. Every time you say these things, it’s like you’re pretending that everything’s fine when it isn’t. Nothing is fine!”

Y/N felt her own frustration boiling over. “Maybe I’m trying to remind you that you’re not alone, Fernando. You’re not the only one going through this. I’m here with you—whether you want to believe it or not.”

But Fernando only shook his head, running his hands through his hair in exasperation. “Sometimes I think you’re better off without me. I mean, do you even know what this life is like? You see a bad race, and you think it’s just one bad day. But it’s a thousand bad days for me, and I’m just—”

“Don’t you dare,” she interrupted, her voice trembling. “Don’t you dare tell me that I don’t know. I’ve stood by you through everything. I know what it’s like to feel helpless, but I’m still here!”

Fernando’s frustration boiled over, and in his anger, he didn’t think before he spoke. “Lara, why don’t you just—” He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening as the name fell from his lips. Y/N’s breath hitched, her face going pale as his words sank in.

The room went silent, an uncomfortable, suffocating silence. She stared at him, her expression crumbling as the hurt flashed across her face. “What did you just call me?”

Fernando’s face contorted with regret, realizing his mistake too late. “Y/N…I—”

“No,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “You called me by her name.”

“Y/N, I didn’t mean to…” he stammered, reaching out for her. “I’m sorry, I was just frustrated, and—”

But she stepped back, hurt and disbelief etched across her face. “I get it now. This whole time, you’ve been here with me, but your mind has been somewhere else. You’re so caught up in the past that you can’t even see who’s standing right in front of you.”

“Don’t say that,” Fernando said desperately, reaching for her again, but she shook her head, pulling away.

“Enough,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’ve tried so hard to be there for you, but all I get is anger and resentment. And now, this?” She wiped at a tear that had slipped down her cheek, the betrayal and heartache painted on her face. “I don’t deserve this.”

“Y/N, please, just let me explain,” he pleaded, but she was already walking away.

“No, I don’t want to hear it.” Her voice was cold, a kind of finality in it that stung more than any words she’d said before. “I’m done trying to be someone I’m not just to keep you from falling apart. I’m done being your emotional punching bag.”

Before he could say anything else, she disappeared into the guest room, locking the door behind her. Fernando stood there, his heart pounding, staring at the closed door, helpless.

Inside the guest room, Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the weight of everything crash down on her. The tears came quickly, her hands shaking as she clutched the edge of the bedspread, trying to steady herself. How had they gotten here? She thought they’d been building something together, a real future, but now…it all felt like a lie. The moment he’d called her by his ex’s name, something had shattered, leaving her questioning everything she’d fought for in their relationship.

Outside, Fernando leaned against the door, guilt eating away at him as he listened to her quiet sobs. He’d hurt the one person who’d been by his side, and he didn’t know how to fix it. Taking a shaky breath, he turned away, walking out of the apartment to get some air, feeling the cold night air hit him as he tried to gather his thoughts.

For the first time in years, Fernando Alonso didn’t know how to move forward.

--

Y/N drifted into a fitful sleep, her body curled up on the guest room bed, clutching the pillow as if it were the only thing holding her together. The tears had left her drained, her face stained with evidence of a night spent questioning everything she thought they had together. She wanted to understand, wanted to find a way to reconcile his words and the ache in her chest, but sleep took her in spite of herself, leaving her mind restless.

Morning light filtered in through the guest room window, waking her. She felt the heavy weight of last night pressing down, her heart sinking all over again as she remembered his voice, the name that had slipped from his lips so carelessly.

It was just a name…he was just frustrated…but why does it feel like so much more?

Y/N rubbed at her swollen eyes, steeling herself as she got up. She had a modeling gig that she needed to get to, and she couldn't afford to miss it—not with the way things felt so uncertain now. She packed a small bag quietly, not wanting to disturb Fernando if he was still in the apartment. Every item she folded and placed in her bag felt like a part of her heart being stored away, her resolve hardening with each piece of clothing.

Before she left, she hesitated, her eyes flickering to the empty hallway. She didn't want to leave him without a word—despite everything, she still cared. Maybe he thinks it’s over, she thought, and that hurt more than anything else. Taking a pen and paper, she jotted down a quick note and left it on the kitchen counter, pausing to reread it before setting it down.

"Fernando, I’m going to take some time for myself. I have work I need to focus on, and I think we both need to clear our heads. I’m not leaving for good, but I need time to think about us, and I hope you understand that. I’ll be back, but please don’t contact me until I’m ready to talk. – Y/N"

She sighed, setting down the note with a shaky hand. Her chest felt heavy, but this was what she needed—to find clarity, to decide if she could really keep standing by his side after last night. With one last glance around the apartment, she walked out, closing the door softly behind her.

Fernando woke up in the early afternoon, his body tense and aching from a restless night on the couch. His first thought was Y/N, and his heart jumped, the events of the previous night flooding back to him in harsh detail. What have I done? The regret clawed at him, a pit in his stomach as he sat up, rubbing his hands over his face.

"Y/N?" he called out, hoping to see her emerge from the hallway, maybe tired and sad but willing to listen. But only silence greeted him. He stood, feeling a pang of panic as he checked the guest room, finding it empty.

His breathing grew shallow as he checked the closet, noticing a few empty hangers. "No…no, please…" He murmured, his voice trembling as he moved to the living room, scanning the apartment frantically, hoping she’d left a sign she was still there.

I pushed her too far. I let my anger get the best of me, and now…she’s gone. He felt like the air had been knocked out of him as the full weight of her absence hit.

His eyes fell to the kitchen counter, where a small piece of paper caught his attention. Heart pounding, he reached for it, hands shaking as he read the words. Each line hit him with fresh regret, and when he finished, his vision blurred as tears filled his eyes.

"She needs time…" he whispered aloud, choking on his words. He gripped the edge of the counter, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to steady himself. I’ve hurt her so much that she needs time away from me just to think.

“Oh, Y/N…” he muttered, a tear slipping down his cheek as he sank into the nearest chair. The silence of the apartment felt like a punishment, a void that reminded him of everything he’d done to push her away.

He sat there, re-reading the note over and over, each word deepening the ache in his chest. His mind replayed the argument, every hurtful thing he’d said, and the look on her face when he’d called her by his ex’s name.

How could I have been so stupid? He ran a hand through his hair, the anguish in his chest tightening as he thought of her walking out, feeling like she had no choice but to leave him to clear her head. She deserved so much better…

He looked around, every corner of the apartment filled with memories of her laughter, her warmth. And now, it felt hollow, like the walls themselves were mourning her absence. Unable to sit still, he stood and paced, the weight of his own mistake pressing down on him.

"How did I let it get to this?" he asked himself, voice thick with self-reproach. She’s been nothing but supportive, and I repaid her with anger. I don’t deserve her forgiveness…I don’t even know if she’ll give it to me.

He stopped by the window, looking out at the city. Somewhere out there, Y/N was hurting, questioning everything they’d built. And he knew it was his fault. His stubborn pride, his inability to let her in, his habit of lashing out when he felt vulnerable—it had all led to this moment.

With a deep, shaky breath, he turned from the window, heading toward the door. He needed to clear his mind, to think about how to make things right. But the image of her walking out—of her packing her bags, her face streaked with tears—kept flashing in his mind.

As he stepped outside, he felt the sting of the cold air, but it didn’t ease the ache in his heart. He looked out over the city, a painful emptiness settling over him. He’d give anything to take it all back, to undo the damage he’d caused.

Please, Y/N, he thought, his heart aching with the silent plea. Please come back to me. But he knew that it would take more than words to earn her trust again. It would take everything he had to prove he was worth her forgiveness—if she ever gave him the chance.

---

Fernando found himself increasingly consumed by regret. Every memory of Y/N seemed like a stark reminder of the mistake he’d made, the pain he’d inflicted on her. Days passed with each one stretching longer than the last, the empty apartment a shell of what it had been with her in it. He left countless messages, each one a little more desperate than the last.

“Y/N…I know I hurt you. And I’m not asking you to forgive me overnight, but please…just let me know you’re okay.” His voice cracked in one message, the anguish evident in his words.

Her responses, when they came, were brief, polite, and guarded—keeping him at arm’s length in a way that hurt almost as much as the silence had.

“I'm fine, Fernando. Just busy with work.”

“Right, of course. But…are we okay? I just want to hear it from you…”

“Let’s talk when I’m back, okay?”

Every short reply felt like another wall between them, a reminder that she was still hurting and far from ready to forgive him. Fernando didn’t blame her; he knew he’d have to be patient. But it was hard, agonizingly so.

He threw himself into his training, hoping that the physical exhaustion would numb the relentless guilt. But even that wasn’t enough. The sleepless nights, the endless thoughts of Y/N, and the crushing weight of his actions left him feeling drained.

One afternoon, Carlos caught him alone in the paddock, noticing the dark circles under Fernando's eyes and the gaunt look that had taken over his usually vibrant face.

“Fernando,” Carlos said sternly, pulling him aside, “when was the last time you actually took care of yourself?”

Fernando shrugged, forcing a smirk. “I’m fine, Carlos.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Carlos replied sharply. “You look terrible, man. Everyone’s noticed. You need to get a grip before you make yourself sick.”

“I made a mess of things with Y/N, Carlos. It’s… it’s all I can think about,” Fernando admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. “And she’s still so far away. I’ve apologized a hundred times, but… nothing feels like enough.”

Carlos shook his head, looking exasperated. “You called her by your ex’s name. Do you even understand how hurt she must be? She trusted you, Fernando! You don’t get to brush that off with a few messages.”

Fernando closed his eyes, the guilt clawing at him even harder. “I know,” he murmured, voice trembling. “I know I don’t deserve her forgiveness. But Carlos…I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

“Then start acting like it,” Carlos said, his tone unforgiving. “You can’t change what you did, but you can show her you’ll never make that mistake again.”

A few days later, Fernando was in the team garage when George Russell and Carmen happened to walk by. Carmen, who’d always been warm and friendly to him, gave him a sympathetic look but quickly turned stern.

“Fernando, have you talked to Y/N recently?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“She’s…abroad for work,” he answered, trying to keep his tone neutral.

Carmen shook her head, visibly disappointed. “If you really care about her, then show her, Fernando. She’s heartbroken, and all she needed was for you to be there for her. Instead, you hurt her when she was already struggling to support you.”

George placed a hand on Fernando’s shoulder. “Mate, I know things have been rough with the team, but that’s no excuse to hurt the person who’s always by your side. You need to make it right before it’s too late.”

Fernando swallowed hard, feeling his chest tighten as he absorbed their words. He could hardly argue with them; everything they were saying was the truth he didn’t want to face. They’re right. I’ve been selfish. I hurt her because I couldn’t handle my own issues.

Days continued to drag on, and Fernando’s health began to falter. The sleepless nights and relentless anxiety started to wear on him, his usually fit frame looking leaner and more frail. He was haunted by the image of her teary eyes, of her silent, pained expression before she’d shut herself away.

One evening, back at the apartment, Fernando felt the full weight of his actions settle onto him. The walls seemed to close in, the empty rooms echoing with memories of her laughter, her voice, her presence. A sudden wave of panic gripped him, the guilt and fear crashing over him like a tidal wave.

What if she never comes back? The thought stabbed through him, cutting deeper than anything he’d felt before.

His breathing grew shallow, and he clutched his chest, trying to force air into his lungs, but it was like his entire body was fighting him. He staggered, clutching the edge of the counter, vision blurring as he struggled to calm himself.

“Y/N…” he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible. He could almost see her face, feel her hand resting gently on his shoulder, grounding him. But it was just a cruel trick of his mind, and the reality of her absence hit harder than ever.

His knees buckled, and he sank to the floor, gasping for air, his heart racing uncontrollably. I can’t lose her. I can’t…

The world started to fade, his mind slipping into darkness as exhaustion finally took over, and he drifted into a fitful, troubled sleep right there on the cold floor.

---

Y/N’s heart raced as she read the headlines scrolling across her phone screen. Fernando Alonso unwell; concerns raised over health. Panic gripped her, sending a jolt through her entire body. She hadn’t been prepared for this; she’d known he was struggling, but to hear it from the outside world felt like a gut punch.

What happened? Is he okay? She quickly gathered her things, her modeling gig suddenly forgotten. There was only one thing that mattered now: getting back to him.

The flight home felt endless, each second ticking by as worry gnawed at her insides. She replayed their last argument over and over, the way he’d called her by his ex’s name, the look of frustration on his face. What if I was too harsh? What if he really needed me and I wasn’t there for him?

I need to be there for him now. I need to make it right.

When she finally stepped through the door of their apartment, the sight before her made her heart drop. The place was dimly lit, cluttered with remnants of his solitary life. Empty takeout containers littered the kitchen counter, and the living room looked like it hadn’t been touched in days. But what sent her racing was the faint sound of him coughing in the back room.

“Fernando!” she called out, fear tightening her throat as she rushed through the hallway. She burst into their bedroom to find him lying on the bed, pale and visibly weak, his body covered with a thin sheen of sweat.

“Y/N?” He squinted up at her, confusion and relief mixing in his eyes.

“Oh, amor,” she breathed, rushing to his side. “What happened? Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling this bad?”

He shook his head slightly, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t want you to worry. I thought… it would pass.”

“Stop it,” she said firmly, pushing his hair back from his forehead. “You should’ve called me. You need me.” Her fingers brushed against his skin, the heat radiating from him unsettling her even more. “I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

Y/N quickly moved around the room, gathering supplies—blankets, water, and a few medications she hoped would help him. She set the pillows just right, adjusting them to support his head, feeling an overwhelming need to create a safe space for him.

“Y/N, really, I’m fine,” he murmured weakly, though the tremor in his voice contradicted his words.

“No, you’re not,” she replied, her heart aching at the sight of him. “You look terrible.”

Fernando offered a small smile, the kind that made her heart flutter, but it quickly faded. “I’m sorry for everything, for how I treated you…”

“Don’t. Right now, let’s focus on getting you better.” She poured him a glass of water, carefully lifting his head so he could drink. “I’m here, Fernando. I’m not going anywhere.”

After a few sips, he leaned back against the pillows, looking a little more relaxed but still so vulnerable. “You’re really here.”

“Of course, I am,” she reassured him, her voice softening. “I was worried sick. I don’t care how far away I was; I always want to be there for you. You’re my everything.”

He looked at her with gratitude shining in his tired eyes. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You do,” she insisted, brushing her fingers along his cheek, feeling the stubble beneath them. “You’ve always been there for me, and I want to be here for you now. You just need to rest, okay?”

I can’t believe how weak he looks, Y/N thought, panic surging through her as she watched him close his eyes. What if he doesn’t get better? What if I lose him because I wasn’t there?

“Y/N?” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. “Stay with me?”

“Always,” she replied immediately, crawling into bed beside him. She curled up next to him, feeling his warmth seep into her. “Just relax, cariño. I’m right here.”

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close as his breathing began to steady. “I missed you so much,” he confessed, voice still weak but laced with affection.

“I missed you too,” she murmured, burying her face against his shoulder. “You have no idea how much. Just promise me you’ll let me take care of you from now on.”

“Promise,” he said softly, closing his eyes again. “I’m sorry for everything. For pushing you away… for everything.”

Y/N felt tears prick her eyes, a mix of relief and love swelling within her. “We’ll get through this together, I swear. Just let me love you the way you deserve, okay?”

He nodded slowly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You have no idea how much I need that right now.”

As they lay together, the tension from before began to ease, replaced by a soothing warmth that enveloped them. For the first time in days, she felt hope creeping back in, even if it was just a flicker. The road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but as long as they had each other, she believed they could face anything.

----

A few days later, Fernando was back on his feet. He still moved a little slower, a little cautiously, but the spark in his eyes had returned. However, it didn’t take long before he noticed Y/N moving sluggishly around the apartment, her face pale, and her usual energy dimmed.

“Amor,” he murmured, catching her as she stumbled slightly in the kitchen. “What’s wrong?”

Y/N gave a half-hearted smile, trying to wave it off. “I’m fine, really. Probably just tired from flying back so soon.”

He narrowed his eyes, feeling her forehead. “You’re warm. And you look exhausted.”

“Well, I did just take care of you around the clock,” she teased lightly, giving him a small, weak smile.

“That’s it,” he said firmly, gently steering her toward the couch. “You’re officially off duty.”

Y/N laughed but didn’t fight him, too tired to resist. She sat down, wrapping herself in the blanket he brought her as he hovered nearby, his expression filled with worry.

“Seriously, Fernando, I’m fine. Just a little tired,” she insisted.

“Oh no, don’t even try that on me,” he replied, shaking his head as he settled next to her. “I know exactly how this feels, and you’ve definitely caught whatever I had.”

Y/N sighed, closing her eyes. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Stay here,” he commanded softly, a warm smile crossing his face. “Doctor Alonso is on duty now.”

She gave him a skeptical look but relaxed into the couch, her eyelids fluttering shut as he went to the kitchen. Soon, he was back with a tray of tea, soup, and medicine. She opened one eye, watching as he set it all down, his brow creased with concentration.

“I didn’t know you knew how to make soup,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t look so shocked,” he chuckled. “I picked it up somewhere along the way. Or maybe I just have some natural talent you didn’t know about.”

She rolled her eyes, smiling. “Alright, Mr. Multitalented. I’m impressed.”

He grinned, but his smile quickly softened into something more serious. “Y/N, about everything… I know I messed up. You shouldn’t have to bear the brunt of my frustrations.”

“Fernando…”

“No, let me say this,” he interrupted gently, reaching out to take her hand. “You were there for me through everything, even when I didn’t deserve it. I can’t believe I put my own issues onto you.”

Her gaze softened, and she squeezed his hand. “You were going through a lot, Fernando. I get it. But, yeah… it hurt.”

A shadow of regret passed over his face, and he moved closer, looking into her eyes. “I’m so, so sorry, Y/N. I promise I won’t let my issues with the team or anything else come between us again. From now on, you’re my priority.”

She swallowed, her voice barely a whisper. “I just needed to hear that.”

He kissed her hand, looking at her earnestly. “You’re my everything, amor. And I’ll prove it to you every day if I have to.”

She laughed softly, despite herself. “Starting with the soup?”

“Exactly,” he grinned, placing the bowl in her hands. “I don’t make soup for just anyone, you know.”

“Special treatment,” she murmured, taking a small sip. “And here I thought I’d never see the day.”

He chuckled, settling beside her and tucking the blanket around her shoulders. “This is just the beginning. I’ve got a whole recovery plan for you.”

“Oh really?” she teased, snuggling into the blanket as he adjusted it.

“Absolutely. This recovery plan includes lots of soup, endless tea, and, of course…” He paused, flashing her a cheeky smile. “As many cuddles as you can handle.”

“Sounds like a solid plan,” she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder.

He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. “Thank you for coming back to me,” he murmured softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“Thank you for letting me,” she replied, her voice warm with affection.

They stayed that way, wrapped in each other’s arms, as he continued to whisper apologies and promises between gentle reassurances. For now, it was enough to be together, to know that they would face everything side by side.

---

The grandstands buzzed with energy as fans poured into the circuit, filling the air with an electric anticipation. It was a monumental day for Fernando—his 400th race. Cameras flashed, fans cheered, and the world celebrated this milestone with him. But as the day progressed, the weight of it all settled in a different way. It wasn’t just the years of racing, the trophies, or the fame. It was the realization of who had stood by him, through every twist and turn, every high and low. And there she was, watching him from the edge of the paddock with that warm smile that always calmed him.

When he finally had a free moment, he pulled her into one of the quieter corners of the team lounge, away from the flashing lights and the hustle around them.

“Y/N…” he began, taking her hands in his, his thumbs brushing gently over her knuckles. His voice softened, the usual edge in it replaced with something deeper, something raw. “I know today is all about my racing, my 400th, but I don’t want it to pass without telling you something.”

She tilted her head, curiosity shining in her eyes. “What is it, Fernando?”

He took a breath, collecting his thoughts. “I’ve had so many people supporting me over the years, but no one—not a single person—has been there for me like you have. I mean… I’ve never been an easy person to be with. I’m… difficult,” he admitted with a small, self-conscious laugh. “But you… you’ve handled every bit of it with so much patience, so much love.”

Her eyes softened, and she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I told you, Fernando. I’m here for you, no matter what. I always have been.”

He nodded, his gaze never leaving hers. “But I didn’t realize what that really meant until this year. I’ve taken so much out on you, especially when things got hard with the team. And somehow, you stayed.”

“Of course, I did,” she whispered, her voice a mix of reassurance and affection. “I knew who you were from the beginning, and I chose to be by your side. I wouldn’t change that for anything.”

Fernando swallowed, feeling his throat tighten. He glanced down, a faint smile appearing on his face as he collected himself. “You’re so much stronger than me, you know that?” He laughed softly, shaking his head. “I might be the one driving out there, but you’re the one who keeps me going. You’re my strength, Y/N.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked down for a moment, visibly touched by his words. “You’re going to make me cry,” she teased, her voice thick with emotion.

He reached up, gently lifting her chin so their eyes met again. “I mean it. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I don’t even want to think about it.” He paused, gathering his thoughts as he tried to put everything he felt into words. “You’re my everything. You make all of this worth it, the good times, the bad times. Every single lap, every race… knowing you’re there for me makes it all feel complete.”

“Fernando…” she whispered, her voice wavering as tears pricked her eyes.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. “Thank you for being here, for being you. For seeing the best in me even when I’m at my worst.” He held her close, his hand gently cradling the back of her head. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder as she took in his words. “I love you, Fernando. And I’m so proud of you—of everything you’ve achieved, and the person you are. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

He leaned back slightly, his eyes glistening as he looked down at her. “I’m proud too, you know. Not just of this career, but of the fact that you’re here with me, sharing this moment. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough.”

Y/N smiled, reaching up to gently cup his cheek. “Just keep being you. That’s all I need.”

He laughed softly, leaning into her touch. “Deal. And for the record, I’ll try my best to keep my temper in check.”

“Good,” she chuckled. “I’ll be right here to remind you if you forget.”

He smiled, bending down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I know you will, cariño. And that’s exactly how I want it to be.”

In that quiet moment, with the noise of the race buzzing around them, they stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, two people who’d weathered storms together and come out stronger. Fernando knew that this race—this milestone—was only the beginning, and he couldn’t wait to keep going, with her by his side every step of the way.

[flippinpancakes64]

cullens coming in on the reader crying

The Cullens walking in on you crying

Sorry that this took so long, I literally got in a car crash. I guess that's what I get for deciding to write fanfic.

For right now, my requests are closed as I am currently trying to catch up :'(

Anyway here's your story! Thank you for being patient and I hope you like it!

Edward:

Unless he was away from home, you wouldn't have even been able to think sad thoughts before he was right behind you

But assuming he was away and didn't notice your turmoil until he was close to the home, he is instantly by your side

When he goes up to your room and sees you curled up on your shared bed, he is instantly worried

Frantically scanning your mind for every possible thing that could have made you as upset as you are right now

If it was a person, his first thought is violence

If someone said something to you, he is instantly flying out of the house and hunting them down

He gets so blinded by rage that he doesn't even stop to think that you might just want comfort at that moment

So unless you can call out to him before he can leave, you're gonna have to wait until he comes back

But after he comes back, or if this was never about a person in the first place, he is instantly holding you

Rubbing your arms, petting your hair, whispering words to you

After you've calmed down he's asking you what you need

Your favorite food? Your favorite movie? You want to go out somewhere? You name it, he'll do it

Won't leave your side the rest of the night

Alice:

I get the sense that she's a bit clingy

So just the fact that you were able to be alone long enough to cry without her noticing is a one in a million chance

Unlike Edward she does not resort to violence, however

In a flash she is by your side, petting your hair, drying your tears, and asking you what's wrong

No matter what the issue is, she will stay by your side

She already has your favorite takeout on the way, your favorite movie on the TV, your favorite drink in a cup beside you, and your favorite pajamas neatly folded waiting for you to change

She will spend the whole night talking to you softly, braiding/messing with your hair (or just running her fingers through it if it's not long enough), and telling jokes she knows you'll laugh at

Doesn't leave your side

She doesn't even make you get up early to spend forever choosing the perfect outfit for you the next day

If it was a person who was making you sad, she goes out of her way to walk you to classes where she knows you'll see them

If they try anything in the future she is not afraid to stand up for you

Jasper:

He senses your mood change from a mile away

Like literally

He is out on a hunt with Emmett and he feels your mood change and he can feel the tears falling from your eyes

Jaguar or whatever the hell he had be damned he is running home

Wastes no time in going to your side

Asks what's wrong and then calmly listens

He brushes away the tears from your eyes and holds you in his arms as you let it all out

He'll make little snarky comments if this was about someone being mean

Is your 'yes' man

"I just want him to die!" "I completely agree, darlin'"

Again he is your personal servant for the night

Food, movie, drive around town going at least 100 mph

You name it, it's done

He's also not one to get violent, though

He knows his own limits

He is still very sensitive to blood

Is not willing to put their whole livelihoods at risk just to put some douche in their place

Rosalie:

As soon as she heard the first sob, she was up the stairs and in your room

Instantly cradling you, holding your head, giving you kisses on the cheeks, doing anything to calm you down

Once you finally muster up the words to say what happened, she is shushing you

After you explain, I mean

She doesn't want you just mumbling on and on

Because now she's in 'fix it' mode

Is running you a nice, warm bath with candles and bath bombs and everything

She cooks you something warm and nice

Puts on your favorite show or movie and lays next to you until you fall asleep

But if someone did this to you...

As soon as you're asleep she is up and out of the house

She might enlist the help of Emmett or Edward

Their tires are slashed, all of their shampoo is Nair, all of their clothes have been shrunk in the wash, etc.

She wouldn't tell you what she did

That's her little secret ;)

Emmett:

He gets a little scared at first

He doesn't really know how to deal with crying and really big emotions

I mean the biggest emotions he's ever felt were hunger and fear

Either way as soon as he hears you crying he is done with whatever else he was doing and is by your side

He sort of just.. sits there

He's rubbing your back and trying to be supportive and a listening ear

He will let all of your tears soak his shirt he does not care

Once you calm down enough you're gonna have to be the one to ask him to do things

Don't be scared to ask, he will do anything you want

He will ask you if you want him to go beat up the person who made you sad (if that's what happened)

But that's only half a joke

If you say no and laugh he'll laugh too

But once you're asleep....

He is out the door

That person is legitimately missing the next day

Police cannot find their body

Or any sign of them at all

Esme:

Ultimate comforter

She walked into the house after going grocery shopping for prop food for the house when she sees you

I feel like she would try to give you your space first

She would go up to you and ask if you're okay, but if you don't immediately say something she would quietly leave

When she was going through her own human heartbreaks all she wanted was to be alone

But she is on high alert

If you so much as whisper her name from all the way across the house she is there in an instant

Food, blankets, a board game, and maybe some wine if you're feelin it

She will help you make a blanket fort in the living room

(She also told everyone else to go away)

Listens intently and quietly while you explain everything that happened and why you're crying

If it's because of a self esteem issue she could start crying herself if she could

She thinks you are the most perfect person in the world

However if someone else did this to you I feel like she would have all of the tea

"What did you say their name was again? I recognize that last name, their mom was a hoe"

Carlisle:

He's really quiet about it

He doesn't want to intrude

So when he comes home and goes into his office to see you curled up on his chair crying he just leaves again

He slips a note to come into his room whenever you feel like it

When you get in there he has the bed all set up with pillows and blankets

The TV is on playing one of those YouTube videos of a crackling fireplace

Warm food is sitting on a tray for you

And he is sitting in the middle reading a book as he waited for you

He is there with open arms and open ears

He's really good at reading people

If you just want someone to talk at and complain to, he will happily sit there silently

If you want explanations, someone to bounce ideas off of, or an active listening partner he can do that too

I'm sorry but if you spoke bad about yourself he'd hit you with some bullshit

"Well actually *insert thing here* was very fashionable and considered very attractive in *insert random era here*"

And if it was someone else who said something to you it would also be insufferable

"The way you're describing this person sounds like they might have *insert mental illness here*"

Your best bet is to just tell him to stop talking

Vampire! Bella:

This girl knows sadness

I mean she was like a stationary rock for three months when Edward left her

She knows it sucked being alone too

So when she hears you crying she is right by your side

She also might have grabbed some tissues on her way

And oh she might have also grabbed the bowl of candy that Esme uses as decoration

And wow that's crazy she picked up your favorite sweatshirt of hers how weird

She is the ultimate yes man

If someone said something to you she chimes in about how she hates them too

If you're crying due to a self esteem issue she shoots that down immediately

If you're crying because of a movie she starts talking about how if she was human that movie would have made her cry too

The queen of yappersville

She could talk you to sleep

And tbh she probably does

The next day, if it was someone at school who made you cry, she gets all up in their face

Like I'm talking middle of the school hallway like "so I heard you had some things to say to my partner here yesterday, why don't you say them to me now?"

People are a little scared of her now

But at least no one messes with you anymore :)

[whydon-twego]

When the doors of the king's chamber slam heavily against the walls and Merlin enters with a tray in his hand and a frown on his face Arthur cannot say he is surprised to see his Court Sorcerer enter. No one else would dare enter so blatantly.

Merlin does not say a word but looks at Arthur's new servant as he adjusts Arthur's shirt and Merlin places the tray with breakfast heavily on the table.

"Get out!" says Merlin in an imperious tone to the new servant and the latter, after casting a glance at Arthur and Arthur nods in assent, leaves with his tail between his legs.

Merlin wastes no time in approaching and arranging Arthur's clothes as best he can, muttering about the inefficiency of the new servants and how no one can do their duty decently. Arthur observes Merlin's face and listens to his chatter and manages to relax his shoulders. They have not seen each other except at court meetings for days, barely able to exchange a few words, too tired in the evenings even to have a glass of wine in company. And Merlin must have made no small effort to be there at dawn, and his dark circles confirm this. Arthur would like to raise a hand to caress those high cheekbones that have become even more pronounced because Merlin is not eating anything and is sleeping less and less (because of the delegation that is about to arrive) but, although his hands tingle to get up and do just that, he remains motionless listening to Merlin's voice complaining, while Merlin's hands fix his collar and Arthur finally feels the touch of a person he knows, feels the touch of a person whose touch he would like to feel every morning for the rest of his life, possibly.

"You missed me, huh?" says Arthur, because he wants to make sure, because it may be stupid but he missed Merlin so much that he wants to know if it is the same for the other.

It seems to be the wrong thing to say, however, because Merlin frowns and no longer looks him in the eye as he picks up his jacket and helps him put it on.

"Prat" hears him murmuring and Arthur knows (after all this time he simply knows) that he said the wrong thing, and he is so tired of these unspoken sayings, he is so tired of not being able to do what he really wants and he is so tired of not being able to see Merlin every day, of having a new servant, of not having Merlin's chattering anymore.

When he appointed him Court Sorcerer, he didn't think it would drive him further away. He thought they would reign side by side, discussing the kingdom yes, but also remaining good friends, if they could not be more.

Arthur steps forward and brings his arms around Merlin, holding him close and hiding his face in Merlin's neck.

Arthur feels as if he can breathe for the first time in decades and holds on tighter, inhaling and breathing deeply until he feels Merlin's arms around him with the same intensity.

"Then I wasn't the only one who missed you," whispers Merlin directly into Arthur's ear and Arthur laughs but doesn't loosen the hug because he's fine the way he is.

"I miss your chatter and the way you woke me up in the morning. Who would have thought that a competent servant would be so terrible to tolerate? He never talks to me and answers me by looking at the floor, it's like he's afraid of me."

Merlin snorts and Arthur hears him smile and isn't that the nicest thing that has happened in the last few days?

"He is obviously afraid of you. I have heard terrible things about how you treat your servants."

Arthur smiles back.

"I was used to you and the way you respond and react, habits die hard"

Merlin nods and lifts his face to look at him but neither of them turn away.

"…Shall we have a picnic when the delegation leaves?"

Arthur has it on the tip of his tongue you're such a girl, Merlin but, as already mentioned, he's tired of subterfuge and having to be impassive all the time he finds himself smiling and nodding.

"I think that would be a good idea."

[onlyjaeyun]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 – 𝟓𝟎

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘: 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

↬ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

↬ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬!𝐀𝐔, 𝐂𝐄𝐎!𝐉𝐚𝐲, 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

↬ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟒.𝟏𝐤 (not proofread im sorry)

"Please, pick up", Jongseong begs quietly as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel of his car, "please, Baby. Please, pick up the phone."

In his twentyeight years of life he's never been as anxious, nervous and stressed as he is in this particular moment and as Jay tries his best to follow all the traffic rules, a wave of flashbacks from your last panick attack at your own apartment hit him, yet this time it seems to be even worse.

He knows you're safe.

His men are with you and from Donyeom's last call only two minutes ago, he knows there are actually enough of them to take down a whole football team, let alone your two brothers. Yet the feeling of nausea seems to become permanent the longer the drive to your apartment takes and the scenarios in his head start drifting into the worst directions possible.

By the time the young CEO finally parks his car right in front of your aprtment building, his eyes nervously roam his surroundings, desperately searching for the rental car his security guard had mentioned about twenty minutes ago, only to realise that his is the only one in eyesight.

With his heart brutally slamming against his rib cage, Jay walks up to your boys, the faces now familiar like he's known them all his life and as he approaches the grouo of young males, they don't hesitate to reassure him of your safety.

"She's safe, Jay", Seyeon says quickly, his thick eyebrows furrowed as he looks the business man up and doen to make sure of his physical well-being.

"I – Where are they, Yeonie? What the fuck happened? And why didn't you guys tell me about this?"

Jay knows he's wrongfully accusing the boys, yet in this particular moment he's not ready to admit the fact that this is his mistake and his only.

He should have made a proper background check on the two men he hired. He should have taken even better precautions. He should have been more careful.

"Calm down", the young boy says calmly and doesn't stray away from Jongseong's strict gaze.

"They left as soon as more of your men arrived ten minutes ago. And we didn't tell you because we didn't know. You should have told us about this!"

Jay's eyes scan every single one of Seyeon's expressions, the accusation hitting him at full force and if it wasn't for the intense anxiety mixing with adrenaline in his veins, he would have been a little more rational and less emotional, yet the louder the young boy's words become in his head, the harder it becomes to fight back the tears of guilt.

"I'm sorry", Jongseong whispers softly, his voice breaking at the end of his apology as a thin veil of tears blurs his vision.

Seyeon's cold expression immediately softens at the sight of the usually so strong and rather distant CEO in such a vulnerable state and without giving it another thought, he pulls Jay into a tight hug.

"She's safe. That's what matters. We'll talk about this when you're in a better headspace. Go and see your girl now, big boss."

Jay almost instinctively buries his face in the neck of the teenager, not realising just how shaken up he is before he pulls away, nods and wordlessly passes the rest of the boys to enter your apartment complex.

Just like the last time, Jong doesn't waste time waiting for the elevator to areive and opts to sprinting the stairs all the way to the fifth floor and when usually he'd do something so physically challenging would never faze him, he can barely catch his breath the moment he finally comes to stand in front of your apartment with about ten of his men all lined up in the hallway, waiting for him.

"Has she finally opened the door, Dokyeom?" Jay's eyes anxiously scan the face of the security guard, only for him to shake his head before verbally responding to his question.

"Fuck", this time Jong simply can't hold himself from getting louder, the anxiety and stress driving him into absolute insanity.

"What the fuck is she doing? Is she even in there? What if they somehow got in there and are holding her hostage? Why haven't you guys kicked in her fucking door yet? What the fuck is this shit?"

None of the man dare to speak up as their young boss loses himself in the panic of your absence and their silence just seems to drive him even crazier.

"Answer my fucking questions, Dokyeom! Why the fuck aren't you guys saying anything?"

Jay's voice is loud, louder than any of the men have ever heard him and in no other situation would he raise his volume like this, yet the mere thought of you being in danger has easily turned him into the worst version of himself he's ever experienced.

"Did something happen to her? Did something happen to the love of my life? Somebody just fucking say something – anything", without even realising, Jongseong reaches for Dokyeom's collar, his grip tight enough to turn his knuckles white as he looks at the young man with teary eyes, "please, don't tell me something happened to her."

And just as said security guard opens his mouth to say something, Jong finally notices the movement in the corner of his eye and with his heart brutally slamming against his rib cage, he turns his head to get a proper view, only to be met with the sight of you, the love of his life.

For a whole minute, the world as well as his heart come to a stop just to spin and beat even faster the next second, leaving the business man lightheaded as relief takes over his whole body.

You carefully watch the way Jongseong's facial expressions soften as his brain processes your presence and at the way his usually so soft and gentle eyes are filled with pain and panic you can't stop the tears from streaming down your cheeks.

The past two hours passed by in a blur. After spending a good hour just crying about your little argument, you didn't even bother taking a shower and just went straight to your apartment, craving a nice hot bath to calm yourself down and give your brain at least an hour to shut everything else out and focus on the warm water and silence.

You didn't know what to expect from your boyfriend, yet it definitely wasn't fifteen missed calls, especially after stepping out of the shower to the sound of way too many male voices on the other side of your door.

As the panic overwhelmed your body, you didn't even bother changing into your pyjamas and simply having a quick look through your peephole to ease your messy thoughts. To your luck the sight of about ten men in suits, Dokyeom and Mingyu included, it didn't take much time for you to calm down again.

You didn't even get to call your worried boyfriend back as his loud voice made its way through your thin walls and as if the universe had just waited for him to say those four words, you opened the door and stepped into the hallway just to hear him call you the love of his life.

A wave of guilt washes over your body as you take in the sight of your boyfriend in his actual pyjamas, hair messily falling into his bare face and his shaky hands as he pulls away from the security guard with his pretty eyes widened in nothing but relief.

"My Angel", is the first thing to leave Jongseong's lips before he approaches you and quickly pulls you into his arms, his mind too messy as it tries to make him believe that you're not actually there, only for all those thoughts to leave his head as soon as you wrap your arms around his neck and your sweet scent embraces him in the most perfect way possible.

"I'm so sorry, Jongie", you whisper into his ear, your soft cries breaking his heart but Jay doesn't dare use his voice just yet, so all he does is shake his head in response.

"I'm okay, I promise", your words, your voice, your touch easily calms his heart down enough and with a soft sigh Jay allows you to pull away just enougj to meet your gaze, "everything is okay. I'm here. I'm safe."

It's then that Jongseong realises that his body went into an anxiety attack, something he hasn't had in so long it actually overwhelmed him to the point where he didn't recognize his own reactions. While last time you were the one to follow the pattern of his breathing, it's him doing it with yours now, inhaling and exhaling deeply for who knows how long.

"There you go, you're doing so good for me, my love", you whisper softly, holding his face so gently, it feels like you're afraid to break him into pieces if you made a wrong move.

You're quick to pull him back into a hug once his breathing is back to normal and as Jay deeply inhales your scent, he finally finds his way back to reality.

You're here. In his arms. Safe and sound.

"You need to come home with me, Baby", Jay whispers into your ear, not rrady to let go of you just yet, "we can sleep in separate rooms if you want to. Fuck, I'll even stay at Hoon's if that's what you need me to do but please, I need you to come home with me, angel girl. It's too dangerous, you're not safe here."

His words definitely take you aback but as soon as you saw those missed calls on your phone display, you knew something had happened because Jongseong would have never panicked this much for nothing.

"Of course, Jongie", you reply calmly and take his face into your hands again, gently caressing his cheeks and quickly wiping away the single tear drop which had managed to escape. 

"I'm going to explain everything to you in the car. Go ahead and get changed, we'll go when you're ready."

All you can do is nod with big, teary eyes, still not quite over your boyfriend's intense reaction and although you're not necessarily scared or anxious, there's still this weird feeling of panic crawling underneath your skin, leading you to be as fast as physically possible. 

You don't even bother taking anything but your phone and your keys as you step out of your bedroom dressed in random sweats you found on the floor and the oversized hoodie you had on when you had arrived to your apartment about three hours ago. You give Jongseong a nod of approval and instinctively reach for his hand, only for him to pull you even closer to his body, yet remaining just as quiet as you. 

The car drive to your boyfriend's penthouse is filled with silence until Sunghoon's name pops up on Jong's phone and the young business man makes sure to give his best friend an update on the whole situation after only texting him a single text message and then not picking up any of his calls. 

You can hear the other boys' voices in the back as they all let out exclaims of relief upon receiving the news of your wellbeing and it doesn't take Jongseong longer than a few minutes to end the call. 

You're glad he agreed to let Dokyeom drive, as he realized that sitting behind the wheel in such an emotional state might not be the best idea. 

Jongseong reaches for your face, his knuckles softly graze your cheek before he places two of his fingers underneath your chin and tilts your head up. You don't even wait for his next move as you push your lips against his and indulge in the sweet feeling of his kiss. 

The kiss is soft. It's gentle and so full of love, you feel it fill your chest with warmth in a way only Park Jongseong has ever been able to, a feeling of comfort and security quickly following. 

It doesn't take much for you to lose yourself in the sweetness of him and the second Jay pushes your chin down just enough to push his tongue into your mouth, a soft whimper bubbles up your throat and loudly echoes through the silence in the car. 

Jay doesn't want to pull away. He just got a taste of his favorite drug after what feels like ages, yet he'd never risk letting his men hear what's meant for his ears and his only. 

To his luck, you're only about five more minutes left until you two are back in the safety of his penthouse and for the first time in the past few hours, Jongseong finally doesn't struggle to take a breath. 

With a soft sigh he gives you one last kiss on the lips but doesn't move a single inch, knowing you both need the close proximity now more than ever.

That's probably exactly why neither one of you bothers to walk further than the couch as soon as you step through the door and into the warmth of your shared home.

While he was still a little hesitant in the car because of his men, Jay doesn't seem to have an ounce of patience left in his body as he pulls you onto his lap the second he plops down on the couch next to you. 

You don't know how much time passes until Jay starts to speak, you're too mesmerized by the sight of his soft yet somehow sharp features, his pretty eyes and plump lips. You've missed looking at him like this, with no time pressure or the fear of someone seeing the two of you like this. 

It's finally just the two of you and nothing else matters. 

"There's no need to panic or be worried, okay, Baby? Everything's taken care of now but some things didn't go according to plan", Jong begins and pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear, his tired eyes never once leaving yours and you can't even get yourself to verbally respond, so all you to is nod. 

"It's about my brothers, isn't it?" You finally find your voice after a beat of silence and this time it's your boyfriend who just simply moves his head to answer your question. 

"Apparently the men I hired to take care of them are working for someone else, which is why and how they found your addressed and basically camped in front of your apartment building, waiting for you to come back."

You attentively listen to your boyfriend's words and despite a wave of horror washing over you, you find yourself more focused on the way he suddenly avoids your gaze, something you're not quite used to from him. It takes you a few seconds but as soon as you notice the way he nervously starts chewing on the inside of his cheek, you can finally put a name on the emotion written all over his face. 

Shame. 

"Why are you ashamed, Jongie?", you don't even think about the part with your brothers, too consumed by Park Jongseong, just as usual. 

"Because I put you in danger", he whispers, not an ounce of his usual confidence and certainty to be seen, "I didn't do roper background checks on those two men and that's why those fuckers felt so comfortable waiting for you."

Saying these words out loud are supposed to feel relieving, but all it does is make Jay's conscience cry out even louder as guilt, shame and embarrassment take over every inch of his body. 

"Jongie, you–", "Don't try to find excuses for this, Baby. I promised to always keep you safe and protected, yet the danger was right there, right in front of our eyes and I failed to see it. I failed to keep my promise because of a mistake so stupid, a mistake that should have been avoided at all costs. I'm sorry."

Maybe it's the fact that you haven't been this close to him in what feels like an eternity or maybe it's about you two getting into your first argument and maybe, just maybe it's because you've never loved a person the way you love Park Jongseong, but regardless of the reasoning, you can't help but feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes at his words. 

There's just something about him that gets to you in a way you can't even explain. It's like that tiny shaking in his voice just slices a knife through your heart, yet the comfort it comes with heals you just as fast. 

"Jongie, look at me, please", you say softly and are now the one to take his face into your hands, your lips stretching into a soft smile as soon as his gaze meets yours.

"You're human, Jay. Things like these happen and that's okay. There's no point in beating yourself up over this, because it was exactly that: a mistake. Mistakes are done unintentionally", you never once avert your eyes from his and feel yourself falling in love with him all over again, "besides, you never broke your promise. Dokyeom was with me the whole time. I was never in actual danger. Please, don't be so hard on yourself, it breaks my heart to see you like this."

"No, please", Jong suddenly gulps harshly and shakes his head, "no more tears. No more pain. My heart can't bear it anymore."

You're slightly taken aback by his response and it's then that you realize that a few of your tears had managed to make their way down your cheeks and with a soft sigh you pull him into yet another kiss. 

To some it might seem odd that you're the one comforting him when you just found out that your brothers have been stalking you and aren't as far away from you as you had initially believed, yet for some reason you're not as concerned about them and their silly little plans to taunt and terrorize you as you are about your boyfriend's mental and emotional state. 

They're going to do whatever they need to feed their fragile ego either way, which is why you're not as scared about their actions as you were just a few weeks ago. Oh, and also the fact you're now accompanied by a six feet tall former military man most of the time now. 

"It's okay, my love", you sigh and wrap your arms around his shoulders, loving the way Jay doesn't hesitate to bury his face in the crook of your neck. 

His brain struggles a little process your choice of pet name, yet as soon as he processes what you had actually called him, not even for the first time tonight, Jongseong's heart finally stops aching in agony when he realizes the weight those two little words carry. 

"Your...love?"

Yet, he remains hesitant because maybe it's a term you use for your friends he hasn't heard yet or you don't actually mean it the way he thinks you do and after a night of such heart break and pain, he simply doesn't have the energy to fight his demons anymore. 

"Yes, Jongseong", you say confidently, pushing away slowly to look at him again, your heart thrumming in your throat at the mere thought of what you're about to tell him. 

It took you exactly eight weeks to realize that you're in love with Park Jongseong. You still remember the way you caught yourself staring at him from across the room, just watching his mannerism and movements as he engaged in a conversation with the head of the team you had just listened to. The second his gaze met yours, his eyes visibly softened and his lips even stretched into a tiny little smirk. That was the exact moment you knew that your silly little crush was a lot more than that and every day for the past few weeks he had managed to make you fall even more in love with him. 

The realization seemed scary at first, but now it's one of your most treasured emotions because nobody has ever made you feel as loved, appreciated, cared for and respected the way Park Jongseong has. 

As your eyes roam his handsome face, you take in the adoration and love gleaming in his pretty eyes, the ones you had found the home in you'd been searching for all your life. 

"I'm in love with you, Park Jongseong." 

You don't allow yourself to overthink and overanalyze your thoughts and decisions. Not this time. Not when you've never felt as sure about something as your feelings for the man you've waited for all your life. 

For a moment, however, you feel tiny jolts of anxiety making their way through your skin as Jay remains completely silent. 

Little do you know that this is the first time someone has ever said those words to him with such sincerity, such genuinity, such honesty. 

Little do you know Jongseong can't get himself to physically react yet because his brain has yet to get past the point of replaying the sound of you saying those sweet words and actually process them. 

Little do you know he has no choice but to remain reaction less, simply because he's never felt as happy as he does in this particular moment. His body has absolutely no idea what to do with all the serotonin rushing through his veins. 

"My Baby", he then finally breathes and lets out a soft chuckle, the tip of his nose reddening as tears of happiness blur his vision, "my pretty girl. My everything. The love of my life."

And there they are. The words he had used to describe you to his man in a moment of panic and anxiety, this time said with nothing but love and honesty, adoration and need.

"And I'm in love with you, Y/N."

Every doubt and worry that has ever crossed your mind in regards to Park Jongseong and his feelings for you suddenly vanishes. The only thing that matters is the fact that of all ways to call you, he's decided to give you a title so powerful and heavy in meaning, you can't even think of one that could ever come close to it. 

Just when you think there's no way this moment can get any more perfect than it already is, Jay suddenly reaches for your right hand, gently taking it into his own before lifting it to his lips and placing the softest kiss on your promise ring.

His eyes never once leave yours as he looks up at you through thick lashes, driving the mob of butterflies in your stomach even further into insanity with just a simple look. 

"And I promise to love you until my last breath and to find you in every life time. Thank you for giving me what I've been craving all my life, my perfect angel girl. Thank you for giving my soul the home it's been looking for all this time. Thank you for the privilege to be loved by you. It will forever remain my most treasured gift and something I won't ever take for granted."

You've always loved Jongseong's way with words but as he verbally expresses his love and gratitude for you, you can't help but gasp for air, too overwhelmed by a feeling so unknown yet so familiar. 

"Jay, I–", you stop mid-sentence as the tears get the best of you and the only thing to follow those two words is a soft sob of his name.

"It's okay, my sweet girl", Jong chuckles softly and pulls you closer against his chest before he places a firm kiss on your head, "I love you, too."

Not a single word is said after the as the two of you silently agree to take the sweetness of your love confessions into your drams, rather than the pain filled hours from earlier. As you bury your face even deeper in his neck, his strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist and his scent and warmth the one embrace your soul, you feel yourself slip into the best sleep you've ever had because despite everything that has happened, you've never felt as safe and protected as this. 

And when your breathing becomes lighter, Jongseong allows himself to let go of all the tears he had been holding back and finally fully indulge in the feeling of relief and gratitude that you turned out to be his person, after all. 

His home. His future.

← 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

(A/N: And here it is babies! I know you guys expected the worst so pls don't hate me, I gotta keep y'all on the edge to hit you even harder once we reach the actual big bang, bear with me 🤕🫣 honestly im not the proudest of this and i hope i didn't disappoint you guys, i promise i'll make up for the lack of smut soon!🫣 thank you sm for all the love and support babies, you're truly the best and i can't thank you enough. feedback is always appreciated!💞)

TAGLIST CLOSED: @soonigiri @xrr-s4sha @kwiwin @heelcvr @deobitifull @kpoprhia @doodlelibrary @abrazosolorcereza @certifiedmoa @sleeping-demons @heerinnie @ohmy-moonlightx @heeswif3y @hoonieluv @fakeuwus @jjaeyuns @cheybabey @ineedsomezzz @super-amberlynn @kshoshi @tinie03 @jseongies @mimikittysblog @primroselover @heebrry @jebetwo @donghyckl @07myonlylove @enhamysunshines @quemirasboboandapaya @lostwonderwall @seuomo @enhaz1 @teawithbucky @beomgyusonlywife @dammit-jjk @lhsvibez @azurez @boutyouwonu @finchyyy @ocyeanicc @jaylaxies @in-somnias-world @zerasari @spookyauthorspopmusictrash @capri-cuntz @fluerz @3amstarlight

[i-am-mldy]

Back to my nalu brainrot years later so here are my headcanons on how nalu should develop if Mashima actually writes them properly:

Lucy sees Natsu as her best friend but does think there could be potential for more. She just actively pushes the idea away because it doesn't seem possible. She doesn't want to wait around for him and waste time, so she's long accepted how they currently are. It's not so bad anyway, cus their friendship is just as valuable to her. She doesn't need anything different as of now.

Natsu doesn't really think much about romance, relationships, etc. But he's not an idiot (canon you have no power here). All he knows is that Lucy is different than his other friends. Aside from Happy, he likes being around her the most. He doesn't really think about kids, but finds himself daydreaming about having one with Lucy, which he does not do with the other FT girls. He's scared to lose all his friends, but the thought of losing Lucy sticks around the most. She's different to him, he knows that, but struggles to figure it out because it's all new to him

Idgaf what the manga says. Natsu still likes pranking Lucy but has grown considerate of her. Lucy, however, learned from him and pranks him back. It has become a game now of who can tease the other better. Lucy likes playing around with her best friend, while Natsu just loves seeing her smile.

Happy has seen a change in Natsu in his treatment and feelings towards Lucy but doesn't know how to bring it up. He also sees Lucy's lingering looks of longing that she adeptly cuts short whenever someone notices. He'd rather they figure it out for themselves.

Their development would be gradual (but not nonexistent as it is in the damn manga). No dramatic confessions, just a bit of pushing from Lucy and a bit of opening up from Natsu. Lucy finds herself wanting to be closer bit by bit despite her earlier reservations, as Natsu's slowly figuring out how he feels for Lucy. Fortunately, Natsu doesn't need to say much for Lucy to understand what he means.

Their dynamic stays the same, just more mature and emotionally intimate. It comes to a point where they don't really need to verbalize it to know they're both it for each other, their first and last, forever.

At this point, the pda really begins. How Natsu teases Lucy now is outright flirting and dirty jokes, which flusters Lucy every time, especially when they're with the team. Lucy soon discovered that the best way to get back at him was through physical flirting — running her hands across his chest and stomach, playing with his hair, touching his neck. It drives him absolutely crazy and she loves it.

Natsu's protectiveness now bleeds beyond their fights against enemies and into simple social encounters with other people who so much as look at Lucy weirdly. This annoys her, but inside, she finds it sweet and attractive. On the other hand, Lucy tries to act nonchalant whenever she's jealous in order to save face, but the team can clearly see through her facade. Natsu, unfortunately, constantly misses all the hints, so Lucy ends up conceding anyway.

If they were attached at the hip before, they're absolutely glued to each other now. Natsu outright refuses to go anywhere without Lucy, and only she can convince him otherwise. The two now always share a bed/sleeping mat. Whenever they walk around, their hands are always intertwined. The most shocking of all, Natsu shares his food with Lucy; lets her take a bite from his plate all the time.

He tried to get into reading for her but quickly got bored of it, so she thought of reading to him instead. This seems to be much more effective, to the point the two often discuss their thoughts on what they're currently reading. This almost always turns into heated debates, with Lucy repeatedly trying to explain her point with solid evidence from the text, and Natsu just not getting it.

In that same vein, Lucy offers to spar against him. What Lucy lacks in physical strength, she makes up for with tact and sheer magical prowess, so they're often evenly matched, with Natsu winning the most by just a small margin mainly due to his stamina. Regardless, what matters most to him is how much fun he has with her. Also, their sparring helps him with his impulsiveness and temper since he has a safe outlet for his pent-up energy now.

It took a while for their teammates to adjust to their evolved dynamic. They're mostly shocked that Natsu had the brains to even make a move, but they can see how the two have matured with each other. Hence, they're truly happy for them.

Years down the line, Lucy moves into his house, which he spent months renovating to accommodate her. The first few months are pure chaos as they adjust to sharing the same space, with Natsu increasing his pranks and Lucy trying to avoid every single one, and Lucy constantly wanting to rearrange furniture and Natsu grumbling as he mostly does the heavy lifting, but both cannot express enough how happy they are to share a home.

The thought of proposing just suddenly comes to Natsu one day. After pondering on it for a few days, he asks her out of the blue as they're idling in the house. Lucy is shocked, stares at him, then laughs out loud when she realizes he's 100% serious. He gets flustered and self-conscious as she's doubling over, but before he can ask what is so funny, she kisses him and says yes. He grins and hugs her tightly as they laugh and kiss.

They have a simple ceremony near the guild, but things quickly turn chaotic as their friends from all over visit to witness the ceremony. Their honeymoon is spent traveling and adventuring. They pull a Sasuke and Sakura by coming home with baby Nasha OR with Lucy heavily pregnant because she wants to give birth in the guild. Either pushes the entire guild into absolute chaos, but the two wouldn't have it any other way.

Will add more soon! Feel free to comment and add your own

[fanbasetwo]

shimkongz threesome I begg, ricky being your boyfriend and gyu who’s always liked you a little too much

✦ TWO FOR ONE ┊ RICKY & GYUVIN

001. PAIRING , boyfriend ! ricky × afab reader × boyfriend’s best friend ! gyuvin

002. SYNOPSIS , you didn't know how you ended up in this situation with your boyfriend and his best friend, maybe they planned it... maybe they didn't.. but you didn't mind it now.

003. WARNING(S) , NSFW, MDNI, unprotected sex, fingering, blowjob/face fucking, jealousy, nipple play, kissing a bit, licking precum, creampie, lmk if i missed anything.

004. WORD COUNT , 1.4k

The obscene squelch of Gyuvin's fingers pumping in and out of your sopping wet cunt echoes through the room, intermingling with your strangled whimpers. Your thighs quiver uncontrollably, clamping around his wrist like a vice as he relentlessly drives you towards the peak. The sheets under you are drenched with your juices, the pungent aroma of sex permeating the air.

Gyuvin’s smug grin widens, his fingers glistening with your arousal as he holds them up for Ricky to witness. “Fuck, she's absolutely drenched,” he taunts, his voice dripping with self-assurance. “Is she always this goddamn wet... even with you, Ricky?”

Ricky’s jaw tenses, his hands curling into tight fists, white-knuckled with the effort of restraining himself. The urge to wipe that infuriating smirk off Gyuvin's face, to make him pay for touching what's his, is almost overwhelming. Of course he doesn't want this. Of course you're not usually this wet. This ready, this desperate for anyone's touch but his. Not with him. Never with him.

So why now? Why with Gyuvin? The question gnaws at him, eroding his confidence. Is Gyuvin just more skilled, more experienced? Does he know something Ricky doesn't? The thought makes bile rise in his throat.

You lay there, confused and overwhelmed, your mind reeling. You didn't understand why Ricky brought Gyuvin here, into your bedroom. Into your bed. You clamp down hard on your lower lip, trying to muffle the moans that threaten to burst out of you as Gyuvin stretches you open with a second finger.

A solitary tear rolls down your cheek, and Ricky is instantly by your side. He tenderly brushes it away, leaning in close. “It's alright,” he murmurs, his breath scorching your ear. “You can let go. Feel it. React.”

Ricky's teeth graze your sensitive nipple, sending jolts of painful pleasure through your body. He suckles roughly, tugging and twisting the other peak between his fingers. It's a stark contrast to the gentle, worshipful way he usually touches you when it's just the two of you. Like he's trying to mark you, claim you, stake his territory in the face of Gyuvin's bold advances.

The dual sensations of Ricky's mouth on your breast and Gyuvin's fingers pumping in your dripping cunt are almost too much to bear. You arch off the bed, a long, keening moan escaping your lips. But Ricky and Gyuvin don't let up, working you from both ends with single—minded focus.

“Can I put it in?” Gyuvin asks Ricky, his voice low and rough with lust. But Ricky just shrugs, deflecting the question.

“Don't ask me, ask her. It's her body.”

Gyuvin turns to you, his eyes dark with desire. You bite your lip, torn between the warring sensations of shame and arousal. You glance at Ricky uncertainly, but he's busy biting and sucking at your breasts, your fingers tangled in his hair. The sharp sting of pain mingles with the pleasure, making you gasp.

Hesitantly, you give a small nod, not trusting your voice. Gyuvin grins, wasting no time in shoving his boxers down and positioning himself at your entrance. You're so wet, so ready, that he slides in with barely any resistance, stretching you wide around his thick length.

“Fuck, this pussy is so sweet,” Gyuvin groans, his eyes rolling back in bliss. “Can't believe you were enjoying this for years, Ricky. What a lucky bastard.”

You whimper as he starts to move, each thrust dragging his cock along your sensitive walls. It's not that Gyuvin is necessarily bigger than Ricky, but he's in excellent shape, his muscles rippling as he pistons his hips.

Your mind reels as Gyuvin and Ricky work in tandem, their cocks stretching you to the limit from both ends. One thick shaft pistoning in and out of your dripping cunt, the other filling your mouth, muffling your desperate whimpers. It's almost too much to process, the overwhelming fullness, the obscene wet sounds of their coupling.

Ricky grips your hair, guiding your head as he thrusts shallowly between your lips. “That's it, doll,” he rasps, his voice strained with pleasure. “Such a good girl, taking both our cocks like a champ.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, even as tears leak from the corners of your eyes. The salty tang of pre—cum coats your tongue as you swirl it around Ricky's length, hollowing your cheeks to suck him deeper.

Gyuvin sets a relentless pace, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with each powerful thrust. The lewd squelch of your sopping wet pussy being pounded fills the room, intermingling with the wet gagging.

It's filthy, degrading, everything you never knew you craved. The taboo thrill of being used like this, sandwiched between two hard, pulsing cocks, sends you hurtling towards the edge embarrassingly quickly.

Your inner walls flutter and clench around Gyuvin's pistoning shaft as your orgasm crashes over you. You moan around Ricky's cock, the vibrations making him groan and tighten his grip on your hair.

“She came too soon...” Gyuvin chuckles breathlessly, his thrusts never faltering. “Guess we know who the real stud is, eh Ricky?”

Ricky's jaw clenches, his ego bruised by the implication. He bucks his hips, driving his cock deeper down your throat until you gag and splutter.

Ricky yanks his throbbing cock out of your mouth, his face twisted in a scowl as he roughly shoves Gyuvin away from you. “Told you not to come inside her,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “Only I get to do that.”

Gyuvin holds his hands up in surrender, nodding quickly. “Understood, man. My bad.” He steps back, giving you both some space as he watches Ricky line up his cock and plunge into your dripping cunt.

You moan wantonly as your boyfriend's familiar length stretches you open, your tongue darting out to lap up the glistening strands of pre—cum that dribble down your chin. The taste is intoxicating, salty and musky, and you can't help but crave more.

Ricky grips your hips tightly, setting a punishing pace as he pounds into you. The wet, obscene slap of skin on skin fills the room, intermingling with your desperate whimpers and moans. “Better?” he pants, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

“Mmm... you always feel better than anyone...” you murmur breathlessly, and it's not even a lie. No matter how good Gyuvin felt stretching you open, nothing compares to the way Ricky fills you up, hitting all the right spots with each powerful thrust.

Ricky's eyes darken with lust at your words, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. “Yeah? You mean that, baby?” he rasps, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

Your answer is lost in a moan as he drives into you particularly deep, his pelvis grinding against your sensitive clit. The added stimulation sends you hurtling over the edge once again, your inner walls clamping down around Ricky's pistoning cock.

“Fuck, I'm gonna... gonna...” Ricky groans, his thrusts becoming erratic as his own climax approaches. With a final, guttural moan, he buries himself to the hilt inside you.

You watch through hooded eyes as Ricky's hips stutter and jerk, his cock pulsing inside your fluttering walls as he reaches his peak. Thick ropes of cum paint your insides, marking you as his, claiming you in the most primal way possible. The feeling of his hot seed filling you up sends aftershocks of pleasure rippling through your body, drawing out your own orgasm until you're both spent and panting.

As Ricky collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, you catch a glimpse of Gyuvin out of the corner of your eye. He's standing there, his hand wrapped around his own impressive length, stroking himself with a look of utter fascination on his face.

“Fuck, that was intense,” Ricky murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your sweaty brow. “You did so good, baby.” You can only nod weakly in response, too wrung out to form words. Your body feels like jelly, every muscle loose and pliant as the afterglow washes over you. Ricky's softening cock slips out of your abused hole with a wet squelch, a trickle of his cum following in its wake.

Gyuvin clears his throat awkwardly, drawing your attention. “Well, uh... guess that settles it. You definitely prefer Ricky's dick,” he says with a rueful chuckle, though there's no real bite to his words. He seems more impressed than anything.

Ricky grins smugly, rolling off of you to sprawl beside you on the bed. “Damn right she does. What did I tell you?” He reaches out to possessively squeeze your ass, making you squeak.

NOTE FROM SENA , this request is soooooo good! (i had to pause writing the other requests and take this one first because c'mon, i personally love this one a lot 🫶🏻)

© 2024 all rights reserved to fanbasetwo !

[daisies-daydreams]

Breeding Kink Ghost Headcanons. Go.

Warnings: Breeding Kink!Ghost, AFAB!Reader/Genitalia, Unprotected Sex, P in V Sex, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Creampies, Lactation Kink, Dirty Talk

Author's Note: A request after my own heart. 😩 I didn't know how to write the reader so I made them AFAB (I hope that's okay).

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

(I’m unashamed to say Simon/Ghost with a breeding kink lives in my mind rent free).

I think his traumatic childhood would make him weary when it came to kids.

Don't get him wrong, Simon loves kids. He will gladly give a friend's child a piggyback ride or tell them his awful dad jokes. He wishes he knew more about how to raise a child of his own, but most of what he knows is how to not treat children (thanks to his jerk of a father).

Both of you talked about having kids, but he'd always hesitate. He honestly didn’t want to bring children into this world. It made his heart ache to think of a young, innocent child possibly being exposed to the horrors that he’s seen (and done).

Babies love him, ironically enough. They always stare and reach for him whenever he’s out.

“Aw, look Si! They want you!” you giggled. His eyes flicked over to the baby gurgling in a shopping cart nearby, their chubby hands grasping towards him. He sincerely doubted your claim, since he was wearing his balaclava out in public and the mom's in the grocery store cast him weary glances from time to time. “Maybe they want you,” he replied, playfully nudging your shoulder. You chuckled and squeezed his hand, the baby squealing for him as his mother quickly pushed the cart away.

It wasn’t until he took you raw one night that something primal in him snapped and rose to the surface.

"Si?" you asked, slightly out of breath. His eyes were locked onto your cunt, his cum oozing out of your puckering entrance. He pressed his fingers down between your lips, slowly shoving his seed back inside you. You arched your back and moaned at how his fingers threatened to push it all the way into your empty womb.

Now he can't help but think about filling you with his cum constantly.

He won't argue if you want to stay on birth control or ask him to use protection, but that feral hunger is always at the forefront of his mind every time you make love.

His favorite place to take you is the bedroom, because he can completely fold you into a mating press while he fucks his spend into your sopping cunt.

You're eyes grow wide when Simon tells you he's finally ready to have kids. He doesn't waste a moment, either, picking you up bridal style and carrying you to the bedroom.

“Can’t wait to see you all round with our baby,” Simon growls as his thick cock pistons into you. Your fingernails rake down his back, thick cum from his previous orgasms sloshing around inside your gummy walls. Drool dribbled from the corner of your mouth, your eyes glazed over. “Please Si, can’t-” you choked as your fourth orgasm ripped through you. His hands gripped your calves, his cock feverishly slipping through your swollen folds. “You can do it, love. Just one more,” your husband panted.

It wasn’t long before you showed him a positive pregnancy test. To say he was elated would be an understatement. He couldn’t wait to see you swollen with his child, tits sensitive and leaking with fresh milk.

His sex drive never yielded after you told him. Simon would fuck you with his cock during your early stages of pregnancy, but he would offer to finger you or eat you out just as passionately if you were more comfortable with that.

“Your pussy always tastes so good, sweetheart,” he groaned before going back to lap at your folds. You were well into your third trimester, womb full and almost ready to pop. Your toes curled as his hands snaked up to your breasts, tweaking your nipples until beads of milk began to drip out and smear over his fingertips. You moaned when he slid his milk-coated digits into his mouth, his dark eyes locking with yours. You swallowed thickly when he released his fingers with a wet 'pop'. “Fucking delicious,” he growled.

He’d help you during the entire pregnancy. Setting up the nursery, driving you to birthing classes, taking care of you whenever you have a nasty case of morning sickness. Your husband's there for you, 100%.

After your baby girl Lily was born, Simon’s heart melted into a puddle. His little one had your eyes and his scruffy, dirty blonde hair. The fact that such a small, beautiful creature could even exist amazed him.

Simon tried to hide how much of nervous wreck he was when both of you brought her home. What if something happened while he was away on a mission? Was he really ready to be a father? Could he avoid the same mistakes his own father made?

You assured him that both of you were new to this, and would have to support each other as much as you supported Lily. Simon felt a little more confident after that.

Since he's in the military, he'd have the baby care routine down to a T.

A harsh wail stirred both of you from your sleep. You began to slip out from under the covers before Simon stopped you. “I’ll get her, it's my turn,” he murmured. You yawned and quickly fell back asleep. He stepped over to the crib, Lily crying and thrashing around. Simon gently picked her up with his rough, calloused hands. The baby’s lip pouted as he brought her up to his shoulder. Simon hummed quietly as he patted her back. “It’s alright, Papa's here,” your husband murmured softly. She cooed before falling back asleep in his arms.

He loves taking her out in public. If not in a stroller, then definitely in a baby carrier. He’ll proudly parade Lily around with her strapped to his chest, carrying her through the store, zoo, etc. It's no wonder she became a daddy's girl with how much he fawns over her.

Simon's heart breaks whenever he has to leave both of you behind to go on a mission. He always felt like a huge part of his heart was being left behind, and couldn't stop thinking about how much of your lives he was missing. However, it was always the thought of coming back to his beautiful wife and baby that kept him going.

Thankfully, he returned home from a long mission just in time to hear Lily say her first word.

Your jaw dropped as the pot you were washing clanged into the kitchen sink. Simon was spoon feeding Lily mashed peas when the word bubbled out of her mouth with a giggle. He cleared his throat. “What was that, Lily?” your husband asked. Her eyes sparkled as she pointed a small finger at him. “Dada!” she burst into a loud squeal. You thought he was going to fall over. Instead, he unlatched Lily from her high chair, holding her close to his chest. “That’s right, baby,” he smiled. His heart has never felt fuller.

Johnny’s her godfather, of course. He’d come by every so often to watch her or just to spend time with you all.

All of you were sitting in your living room, a football game playing on the TV. “So, you thinkin' of havin' another one?” Johnny asked innocently as he felt Lily reach for his hand. He chuckled and held out his index finger. She cooed and wrapped her tiny hand around it before trying to shove it in her mouth. You exchanged glances with your husband, heat rising to your cheeks. “We'll see,” Simon said with a hushed voice, his hand sliding over to squeeze your thigh.

It was only a matter of time before he had you beneath him, your knees pushed near your ears as he relentlessly filled you with his cum with hopes of making baby number two.

-----

Thank you for reading! (Sorry if I got carried away).

[adventuringblind]

White Clover

Oscar Piastri x Reader x Max Verstappen

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Summary: Childhood crushes are normal. Max has been racing for a while now, he's a world champion, it's only natural they would look up to him. It wasn't supposed to go this far...

Warnings: Hanahaki disease, authors limited knowledge of flower language, sickness, Oscar and Reader literally deteriorating, blood,

Notes: One of my favorite tropes! I hope le requester likes it! Hoping to get some loscar comfort out soon!

Side Note: Reader drives for Aston Martin in place of Lance

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

It really doesn't make sense in her head. Every time she tries to rationalize it, the answers come up even more ridiculous then the last.

It's always been her and Oscar, Chasing their dream together. It was meant to be, it had to be destiny with the way the two of them fit together so naturally.

Then Max Verstappen happened. A supposed childhood crush. Then a hero they looked up to. Then a rival in their sport. It was supposed to end with that.

Her and Oscar and their weird fascination with Max Verstappen.

Then there was a shift. Suddenly Max was acknowledging their existence. He was talking to them, giving them pointers, including them in the usual playful Max like banter. Their mutually discussed respect for Max turned into a full blown crush.

Not a small crush either. The kind that has them both fumbling around him.

Lando is no help either. He picks up on it immediately. Teases them about it relentlessly.

They are sitting in Oscar's driver room when it happens. The first of many coughing fits as Lando is trying to cheer them up. Because Max is with Kelly; It would never work. They don't even know if he would be into it.

She starts it. Hacking up a storm and Lando and Oscar trying to get her to take water. Oscar starts up a minute later.

The cough up white clovers. Small ones, but a handful.

Lando looks at them sympathetically. All three to in shock to say anything.

"There is no way this is real, right?"

~~~~~~

It is, in fact, very real. The tiny white clovers continue for about a month. Frequently enough that when their helmets come off, they tumble onto the ground.

Being around max makes it better. The ache in their chests lessens enough to breath deeply again.

Then it switched on them. Gone were the little white clovers. Now there were bigger pink camellias. A longing for Max that they didn't know they had.

They lay in bed for most of the winter break. The toll this stupid disease is having doesn't feel fair.

Both of them stare at their breakfast. Neither wanting to eat knowing it'll be a waste.

"We're not going to be able to hold out for much longer..." She trails. Both of them know what's going to happen sooner or later, but losing the memories they do have feels worse.

Oscar sighs, having weighed the options on numerous occasions. "Lets give it until Australia. My mum knows a doctor who'd be willing to do it privately and make sure it doesn't get out."

"Will she make us food while we recover too?"

"I highly doubt she'll let us move until we're cleared."

~~~~~~

Pre-season testing - for lack of a better phrase - fucking sucks. They've moved onto red roses. The thorny kind that catches in their throats. She didn't realize it until she was coughing in the car again and it burned more then normal.

She hustles her car into the pits and stumbles her way through the garage until she can't keep herself up anymore.

The stem that comes up with the full rose is speckled with thorns that catch on things as she pulls it out.

She's so lost in trying to get it out, that she didn't notice who had come in. A hand rubs her back and moves any loose hairs away from her face.

The drops of blood mixed with bile causes the panic to finally set in. Her body gives out, but her teammate is there to get her sitting upright.

"Do I want to know who it is?"

"Just need Osc, please."

Fernando leaves to track down Oscar and ends up coming back with both McLaren drivers in tow. The Aussie doesn't look like he's fairing any better then herself. Paler than usual and still coughing.

"If Max doesn't get his act together then I'm going to run him off at turn one." Lando, their self designated caretaker, sets about getting her cleaned up since Oscar look seconds away from passing out.

"He doesn't have to, not like Max would want us anyway-"

"Oscar Jack Piastri, I swear if I have to listen to anymore of your self-loathing I will tell Max myself." Since when did Lando become a mom? "Plus, he does. He won't shut-up about you two. Daniel is losing his shit and begging him to just end it with Kelly if he adores you two so much!"

Fernando ends up driving them back to the hotel.

~~~~~

Being in Australia with Oscar has always been something to look forward to. This time feel more like dread and guilt.

Telling their teams had been the easiest part. The off week after Australia will be for recovery. It almost made her cry with how supporting they were.

They just have to get through the weekend now... and hopefully avoid Max in the process. The harder part of this whole thing. Specifically when he won't leave them alone.

It's during the drivers parade that everything goes downhill. They are standing in Max's vicinity, Landing becoming a wall between them and Fernando keeping him occupied. It's helping ease the weight in their chests and burning in their throats.

Max, inevitably, makes his way over to them and starts up conversation. Only it doesn't make the pain better this time. The second he starts up conversation she feels the rose blooming in her lungs.

"How have you two been?" Max is awkwardly stammering his way through pleasantries with Oscar while she chokes back her coughs. She throws Lando a pleading look, trying to get him to understand what's happening.

"Doing pretty well, you?" She can hear the strain in Oscar's voice, but he's holding it together. Unlike her, apparently.

She stays silent the rest of the parade. Unable to tune into the rest of the conversation.

Her physio is there waiting for her when she gets back to the garage. The amount of blood she loses is concerning. The bundle of roses makes her want to scream.

Something isn't right. Her body is screaming at her not to move. The flowers refusing to stop.

She doesn't know how Oscar manages to finish the race. He looks miserable when he meets her at the car. Lando has an arm slung around his shoulders to keep him upright.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk to Max first?"

"What would we even say, Lan? That he's the reason we're dying?" Oscar slides into the back with her. Nicole sits in the drivers seat and Chris on the passenger side. They get sympathetic looks from both of them.

"I mean he broke up with Kelly-"

"Lando, we appreciate what you're doing but it's to late for this. We are knocking on deaths door and we'll still have each other. We'll be okay." She tries her best to comfort the worries Brit.

"Promise."

"Pinky."

The car ride is painfully silent. Not like either of them can talk anyway. It's just her and Oscar wrapped around each other as much as they can be.

They enter the hospital with fingers intertwined. They sit together in a private room waiting for the pre-op to start. A hard decision but one they know had to be made.

"Is it bad, that I don't want to forget?" She peers up at Oscar through watery eyes.

He sighs, the heavy kind followed by another cough. "No, I don't want to either."

She feels like falling asleep in Oscar's arms. Pretending that this isn't what's happening. That she's not growing flower bushes in her body. That she'll remember Max when she wakes up in a few hours.

"At least we get the next week off."

"Nando said he's going to drop some kind of care package off later." She laughs, remembering how he'd fussed over them with homemade remedies. "And Mark, I thought he was going to lose it when you handed him a rose."

"The look on his face was priceless!"

They can do this. They have each other and that's all they need.

Then the door bursts open.

"Max?"

~~~~~~

It's not like he thought he would ever find himself in this situation. Smitten with two of the younger drivers and driving himself insane by not confronting his own feelings.

He tried his best to just be friendly and leave it at that. He invited them to do things with the other drivers, struck up conversation, did his best to give them tips for their driving when he had the opportunity.

But the two of them have Max wrapped around their fingers. Both are smart and intuitive. They think he's funny. Max also thinks they are funny and compliment each other well.

This cannot be a normal kind of attraction... Right? No, it's not. It's the whole reason he had to split with Kelly because he knew this went much deeper then he wanted to admit.

The last minute driver change took him off guard. Then he saw Oscar on the grid talking to Lance. The Aussie looking miserable and on the brink of falling over.

He jogs up to Lando, concern lacing his facial expression. "What's going on? Why the last minute driver change?"

"She's sick." Lando doesn't look at him, anxiously fiddling with his fingers while getting ready. "She's been sick so they had a contingency just in case."

"And Oscar?"

"... Also sick."

Obviously Lando isn't telling the whole truth. If the lack of details is anything to go by. "Are you going to tell me with what?"

And Lando is a terrible liar. Max has known him long enough to read his expressions. "The flu?" Max raises his eyebrows in suspicion. "Okay but if i tell you then you can't say anything because it's really bad."

Max gives him a confirming nod. Not like he wants to spread gossip about the two.

"It's hanahaki, but they should be better soon. Surgery is after the race today. She's our due to blood loss and Oscar is nearing that point but determined to race."

Max gapes. What is his reaction supposed to be? "Do they not love each other?"

Lando rolls his eyes. "Max - there is a third that they are both in love with."

"Who is it because I swear-" Maybe anger wasn't the right emotion to have given Lando's annoyed huff.

"It's you! You're just so oblivious that you didn't notice. You were with Kelly so long and they didn't want to make things weird for you that they didn't say anything."

Max gets two steps towards Oscar before he's being shoved into the car. Forced to race despite being able to fix the problems of two people. He’ll just find them afterward.

He, unfortunately, does not escape the people wanting to speak to him. By the time he ends up at the McLaren garage, Lando looks miserable sitting on a counter and swinging his legs. “You just missed them.”

Max deflates to the floor. It looks obnoxiously dramatic and leaves Lando to huff at the scene. “Relax, you can catch them at the hospital if you’re quick enough.”

Lando ends up driving because he’s in no state to do it himself. The anxiety he’d been fighting off is hitting full force now. Enough to make his entire body shake.

He dives out of the car. Disregarding the fact that the sleeves of his race suit are hanging off his waist and nearly collides with the ground because of it.

Oscar’s parents are in the waiting room. They look at him with the most aghast looks he has ever seen. “What are you doing here?” The death glare Nicole is giving him strikes fear into his heart.

“I need to know where they are, please.”

“Now you want to see them?”

Chris puts a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “They are getting prepped for surgery at the moment. You might be too late.” He gives Max a sympathetic smile.

“Please-“ desperation is evident in his voice. “-please, I love them back. I have to try!”

He gets the room number and continues his sprint to the pair. The weight of possibilities comes crashing down on him, that they might not remember him if he is too late.

Times he went to them when he didn’t want to be alone.

When he sought them out at the bars and clubs when Lando subsequently ditched them.

Dragging them around Monaco when they were there for the Grand Prix.

Max should’ve made himself think about it. How he spent hours with them when he didn’t have to.

He doesn’t bother knocking on the door when he gets there. He slams the door open wide and almost sobs in relief when he sees them still waiting.

While her face is buried in Oscars shoulder, the Aussie is staring right at him. “Max?”

He takes a tentative step forward but stops when they both start violently coughing. “Sorry - I’ll stay over here.”

“What ever are you doing here?” The rasp is her voice makes him flinch. It’s scratchy, like her throat has been torn to pieces.

“I just - Lando told me what’s been going owns I know it’s not fair that I’ve made you suffer for so long.” He wants to get closer, hold them, provide them comfort. “It took me too long to get my shit together but, I love you both.”

Oscar tentatively tries to get up, the female not able to move without falling over and the Aussie in no position to carry her. Max lunges forward to catch him when he stumbles and down to the floor they go.

Max attempts to get him back up, but isn’t fast enough when the female slides down to join them. They end up falling asleep against him, breathing evenly.

They stir when the doctor announces himself, but don’t move from their spots. Max assumes that they are exhausted from coughing up literal flowers.

“This was not what I expected to find.” There is an amused tone in the doctor’s voice. “I take it you were the one?”

“Yeah, that would be me.”

“Well, we’ll keep them for observation and make sure any lingering thorns don’t do anymore damage. Would you be alright saying near them?”

Max nods hastily, eager to do whatever is necessary.

The hardest part is actually getting them to let go of him. The second he retracts contact is the moment they start panicking and coughing again. It’s a stressful few hours until it dies down again.

Nicole and Chris look ecstatic to see the three of them together. They’ve informed her parents about the change in plans and are also happy to know they’ve had a good outcome.

The residual flower petals come in waves, but they are dying down in intensity. The painkillers they are on make them wake up with dopey smiles on their faces.

“Hey Max?” She whispers. The three of them laying in the hospital bed together despite it being cramped and having a second one.

“Hmm?”

“Thanks…” The drowsiness in her voice evident.

“For what?”

Oscar is somewhere between asleep and maybe consciouses. “For noticing us.”

[letsgofullpogue]

I don't usually share my thoughts on the season here, I try to keep it more of an archive than anything, but this shit was a mess and I need to unpack it somewhere. Thoughts on season 4 below the cut.

Groff being JJ's father doesn't make any sense.

Before part two even came out, this little kernel of story rang so false for me. How does Luke wind up with a kook baby who "died" at sea? And the obvious answer is he had an affair with a kook, they had a baby, and, sure, she dies and he has to take care of the baby, leaving him bitter and alone and resentful of JJ. This is a reasonable expectation based on what we know of Luke thus far. But that's not what they're selling. Luke is a good-natured groundskeeper for the Genrettes, forming a light friendship with Larissa and bringing her little baby flowers to light up their days. Chandler, the baby's actual father, lurks in the background, seemingly jealous and controlling and not a fan of Luke. This completely stomps all over what we know to be true about Luke from the beginning, and really wipes out all the beautiful, horrifying work that Rudy and Gary did to build their relationship up until now. What a tragedy.

Why would Chandler kill Larissa and hand off the baby, pretending that he died? Was he hoping that Wes would take him under his wing and he would become the Genrette heir? Why not just keep his own baby with him, who would presumably be the real Genrette heir, coming into the money and property by way of guardianship when he inevitably killed Wes anyway? What's the deal with Chandler and Larissa? Did he marry her for money since he was a Pogue (more on that later)? Is this Foghorn Leghorn accent put on? Did he marry her specifically for her Blackbeard connections? Was it on the order of the Lupine Corsairs? Did he start working with them before he hooked up with Larissa? Was this all part of the plan? Why did Larissa keep her last name? Why in god's name do I care?

Watching Chandler play JJ the whole time requires us to believe that JJ is stupid, and JJ is not stupid. Impulsive, sure. Acts before thinking, absolutely, but not stupid. He's not going to get played this way (especially by a Kook), letting Chandler lock him in a mausoleum, giving him the necklace, giving Chandler his phone. It's insane. And driving around town in the Twinkie while being wanted? Still using their house and surf shop as home base for planning? Stupid stupid stupid.

The retread of scenes we've already done

Pope and Sarah in the tunnel with the rain is Kie in the sewer with the water flushing her out.

JJ and Chandler in the Twinkie is Big John and John B in the Twinkie, and just as bad. I thought they understood that was too much time away from the group, but what I've come to is that they don't actually understand anything.

Wasting too much time with a band of villains, see also last season. At least Singh had an interesting story that somewhat wove into the quest. These guys are just hired grunts. They're not on this hunt for themselves, they were hired to find the crown. Hired by who? And why do we care? They have a code that they live by, but we don't care that one of their faceless guys got killed and that they're out for revenge while pursuing the treasure. They get way too much screen time for us only have ten episodes.

Pope running from the Marines is Pope running from his scholarship interview, with higher stakes consequences that'll never be addressed, I'm sure.

Pope, John B, Cleo, and Sarah in the garage is John B in the garage in season one.

JJ wounded and floating in the water, just like in season two.

JJ and Kie talking about wishes while on watch is surf trip again. I was like, oh wow the chemistry is totally back here, and then I realized that it's fully leaning on the cadence of something that's already happened.

These are not parallels, this is bad writing. Or lazy writing. Or both.

High-stakes actions with no regard for consequences

Speaking of, they're constantly writing themselves into situations they can't get out of at this point. Last year, with JJ making deals with Barracuda Mike, big-time drug dealer, a thing that should have had huge consequences for reneging on the deal, but wound up with none. And in an even bigger 'this doesn't matter', he goes to Barracuda Mike's house this year and demands things of him? Wild and unbelievable.

This year, with JJ assaulting cops and destroying the town, for reasons that don't even really make sense. Wanted and on the run. How do you come back from that? (And a side note. JJ wasn't ever really a physically destructive presence, moreso destructive in the way that he has impulse control issues and acts before he thinks. But JJ has always been the type to take the beating, not start it. Happy to defend himself and his friends, but out of a feeling of usefulness and purpose in the group, not for funsies.)

Also this year with Pope, assaulting a cop, slipping his ankle monitor, and running away from the Marines. THE MARINES. Consequences should be looming, and who knows if we'll get there. But why set these kids on the run for the rest of their lives? The point is this place, the point is these kids. These beautiful idiots with bad luck and good hearts, just trying to get a win. What win is left? Evading jail? Revenge killing? What happened to our little boat show? This is a mess.

A family way

It's insane to me that they would chose to make Sarah pregnant in these circumstances that they've written them into, but then again, it's written by men who seem to have big-time mommy and daddy issues, so why am I surprised? I do feel like the best part of the season is that before John B even knew about the pregnancy, he was basically like I want to be done with this shit. He is not his father, he doesn't yearn for the adventure of it all. He wants to build a life, a normal life, and I wish we had had more time to sit with that and explore it for him.

The dialog

I don't know if it's that they're not improving as much anymore because of ~*reasons*~, but the dialog has gone completely down the tubes. In the last episode of the season, Kiara says "JJ hurry" over and over, at least 5 times in the span of like 15 minutes. When John B, Sarah, and Cleo are running from the Kooks, it's hurry, hurry, hurry. It's either that the writers simply aren't trying anymore or so much of the dialog was filled in with improv that now that everyone hates each other (she says casually and not addressing it at all), they're unwilling to play. Either way, that's their jobs. This show should be so fun to watch and it's becoming a drag.

The filters

I know everyone has complained about the colors of this show the whole time, but it's becoming unforgivable. The blue nighttime filter? I want to throw something at my tv every time they use it. Shoot at night??? Or on a stage? There are options that aren't the most awful fake-looking filters in the world, which, by the way, make watching on any smaller screen completely impossible. I miss those season one South Carolina sunsets. It feels like we've replaced most of those with a really harsh yellow filter that makes lighting people impossible.

Pogues vs. Kooks

That was the setup for this show, right? The haves and the have-nots? Two tribes, one island? Well, now almost every Kook is a Pogue and every Pogue is a Kook. They're muddling the message with bad results, because they still seem to want the tension and the storylines that result from it, but Chandler is a Pogue turned Kook, Ward was a Pogue turned Kook, so is Mike. JJ is a Kook turned Pogue, Rafe, RAFE of all people is working with the Pogues and engaged to one? With season five being the official last season, what will we be left with at the end of all this?

Interviews

So much of what they intended for this story, or what they want the audience to take from this story is told in interviews. I don't know if they're flat-out lying or they really think they nailed it in the telling. They say JJ is freaking out because he finds out he's a Kook, but that's not really what happened on screen, it seems more like he freaks out because their land is being taken from them and Luke's back and betraying them for a deal to keep him out of jail (yeah, not enough time spent on that). That JJ dying was the plan from the beginning which I don't believe was the case for one single second. "JJ is super jealous", where? Show me where because he barely glances at Kiara the entire second half of the season. They're two unsupervised children, dating, living in the same house, who barely ever touch, nevermind kiss. You're making this shit up to get the fans in a frenzy about it and not delivering in the telling.

The biggest fuck you

JJ dying. If talk is to be believed (and I do believe it) Rudy asked to leave and the Pates granted this request by killing him. I'm pissed as hell that the Rudy/Elaine/Madison/Mariah whatever it was ruined a truly great character and couple (the thing that brought me to this show in the first place) and I'm also pissed that it was written this way. Their right as writers and showrunners, I guess. BUT. There is a way to do this and have it make narrative sense and spur the story on and it is their job as writers to figure that out. What they did was strap him with an insane storyline about biological parents that makes no sense, act completely out of character for much of the season, have him pick up a drinking problem that he's never had before (becoming a liability for his friends), and have his new daddy kill him with a 1-inch blade in retribution for *checks notes* not letting him out of a well? Oh, and having his friends bury him in an unmarked grave in a land far from home, a home that they really can't even return to without some of them going to jail for a long time. And now they're out for revenge, as suggested by Rafe.

What is season five going to be? Losing JJ (and Jiara by extension) is a devastating loss for this show. Saddling John B and Sarah with a kid on the way while on the run and actively pursuing very bad people is irresponsible. How can we bring it on home in a way that honors these characters and makes sense of the mess they made of this story? How can we bring it on home at all? I'm not sure, but I guess we'll find out when the time comes. Lord knows, I'll be here until the bitter end.

[raaorqtpbpdy]

This Sure as Hell Never Happened on Scooby-Doo

While investigating a fairly routine haunting in a Michigan hotel, Sam and Dean come face to face with a creature unlike any they've faced before. [Takes place around mid season 1 for SPN, and at a non-specific point in the DP timeline]

Written for @crossoverdanuary Week, Day 7: Supernatural | Veil

First off, congrats to Supernatural for finally making the main prompt list after two years of being an honorable mention lol. I had a lot of trouble coming up with an idea for this one for some reason, so it ended up being kind of generic. This is, however, the first time I've ever written the Full Hazmat AU, which was pretty exciting.

AO3 Link

[Warning for minor violence, and references to suicide throughout]

As a general rule, hunters steered clear of Amity Park, although the reason why varied from one to another.

Some believed all the so-called supernatural occurrences there were just a hoax, like Bigfoot, so there was no point wasting valuable time and energy looking into them. Others swore up and down that, hoax or not, there was something about that town that made you see things. Impossible things. Things that made even the most experienced hunters pause. Some simply believed that Amity Park could take care of itself. Outside interference would only cause more problems than it would solve.

Then there were those who believed that Amity Park, that the very town itself, didn't want them there. That hunters were just not welcome.

The town was infamous in the hunter community. Grizzled, plaid-wearing men would talk about it at roadhouses and truck-stop diners. They'd warn other people away, tell them not to even drive through it on their way to somewhere else. There was nothing in that town worth dying for, and they took care of their own. Hunters weren't needed, they weren't wanted, and they'd just do better if they stayed away.

Every once in a while though, Amity Park's unique brand of freaky bled out of that isolated town. And when it did, then it became the hunters' problem. Unfortunately, more often than not, they wouldn't know it until it was too late.

Sam and Dean were investigating a supposedly haunted hotel. Staff and guests they'd spoken to had all reported blinking lights, cold spots, scratching in the walls. The staff seemed content to blame it on the owner's unwillingness to spend money to fix or update anything. The guests, on the other hand, not so much.

Those who stayed overnight reported horrible nightmares about bleeding out from their wrists. Some of them even claimed to have seen things, although they couldn't seem to agree on what they saw. A few saw a woman, covered in blood from slit writs, and crying, who vanished in the blink of an eye. But another claimed to have seen a small figure in a partially melted hazmat suit.

"Could there be more than one?" Sam asked when they'd returned to their own room in the hotel.

It was more expensive than the crappy motels they usually stayed it, but it was more convenient, and it gave them an excuse to wander around if they were actually staying there.

"Maybe, but... I don't know. If someone committed suicide in the hotel, it makes sense that their spirit would linger," Dean said. "I just can't think of any reason why there would be a ghost in a hazmat suit. Can you?"

"If the building used to be some kind of lab or research facility, it's possible," Sam said, "But this hotel was established back in the late thirties, and even if there was a research facility here before the hotel, the hazmat suit he described was much more modern than they would have worn back then."

Dean scoffed as he plopped down on his bed.

"Of course, leave it to my nerd brother to know what hazmat suits looked like in the thirties," Dean mocked. "Seriously though, that second ghost just doesn't make any kind of sense."

"We'll know more once we find info about anyone whose died in this hotel," Sam said. "This place has been in business for almost seventy years, I'm sure we'll have plenty to wade through."

"It could have been that guy was just making up a story," Dean said. "We've got three people claiming they saw a woman who disappeared, but only one mentioned the hazmat suit. Maybe he was messing with us."

"He seemed pretty shaken up about it," Sam said. "I didn't think he was lying."

"I didn't either, but...." Dean shook his head thoughtfully. "Something about that story just doesn't sit right. And you know what else? That redheaded girl who got all defensive when we started acting questions. Something doesn't sit right about her, either. She acted like she was responsible, or trying to protect the person who was. Except we already know this is a haunting. We know there's at least one ghost, so why did she act like that?"

"I don't know," Sam said. "Could be she was trying to hide something else."

"Maybe...."

"Come on," Sam said. "Let's start by combing through local death records at the library."

"You go ahead," Dean told him. "I wanna talk to that girl's parents, see if they know anything. I'm starting to think there might be more to this case than just a standard haunting."

"Fine. We'll meet back here later."

—

"So, what'd you find?" Dean asked when his brother got back to their room.

"Okay, so get this," Sam began. "There have been several deaths in this hotel. A couple of heart attacks, a couple of accidents. One guy fell out his window, which caused the hotel to seal all the windows on the upper floors shut so they couldn't be opened. There have also been three suicides since the hotel's founding.

"A World War 2 vet shot himself in the head in December of 1945, just a few months after the war ended; A girl OD'ed in 1963, leaving a note about how the state of the world had made her unwilling to live in it; and lastly, a woman in 1992 slit her wrists in room 201 after her husband divorced her, blaming her for the murder of their only son."

"Sounds like we've ID'ed our first ghost," Dean noted. "We got a name?"

"Jennifer Bishop," Sam said. "She was accused of murdering her son, but never convicted because they never actually found the body, only a whole lot of blood they identified with DNA testing. She defended her innocence until her death, but the police never actually investigated anyone else for her son's disappearance and presumed death. Once she offed herself, they just closed the case."

"Another gold standard of police incompetence," Dean said. "Did you find out where she was buried?"

"Her family was catholic, but since she committed suicide, they couldn't bury her in their family plot at their church. Instead, she was buried in a public cemetery, Lincoln Memorial Park... but it's in her hometown: Petoskey, Michigan. She was only here for the trial."

"Great, so we gotta drive all night to get to friggin' Petoskey," Dean moaned. "Awesome. This is why hotel ghosts suck. Did you find any leads on hazmat suit?"

"Nothing. What about you?" Sam asked. "Get anything useful interviewing that red-headed girl's parents?"

"Nah," Dean said, shaking his head. "Remember those hellhoundslair dorks?"

Sam nodded.

"That's what they were like," he continued. "Overenthusiastic, but incompetent. She probably realized we were asking about ghosts and was nervous they'd overhear. While I was talking to them she reminded them they'd promised not to hunt any ghosts while their family was on vacation. They didn't seem too happy about that, but they at least stopped insisting they'd help me 'catch that slippery specter', so that was something, I guess.

"I did learn she has a younger brother, though. I didn't get to talk to him, but when I was leaving, I overheard the two kids talking, and he said something like, 'there's not enough of her there to talk to', and 'there's not a whole lot left of her at all," Dean finished. "Not sure what that was all about, but it seemed like they were trying to keep it on the down-low, especially from their parents."

"You think it could be related?" Sam asked.

"As far as I know, the brother never promised not to hunt ghosts," Dean replied with a shrug. "That and a gut feeling are pretty much all I have to base it on, though."

"Well, we know who our suicide is, at least," Sam said. "One of us should go take care of Jennifer Bishop while the other stays here in case she starts causing anymore trouble, or in case the hazmat ghost shows up again, if its even real."

"Why don't you take the salt-and-burn this time," Dean suggested.

Sam froze and looked at his brother, completely shocked. "You... want me to take your car and drive two hundred miles away... by myself?"

"And if you bring her back with so much as a scratch on her, I'll make you wish you were never born," Dean said. "But I feel like there's something at this hotel that I'm missing, and I'm gonna stick around until I figure it out."

"It's really bugging you, huh?" Sam noted. "Alright, well... it's a three hour drive, so I'd better get going."

"Yeah, and don't forget to fill up the tank on your way back."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam said as he walked out the door.

They'd already brought some weapons from the trunk into the hotel room, so Dean wouldn't be unarmed if he ran into one of the ghosts.

He did some quick math in his head. The ghost, or ghosts, probably wouldn't show up until it was night. Sam had a six-hour round trip, plus a good hour to dig up old Jennifer, probably longer, since he wouldn't have help. It was early afternoon now. 1:18 pm, a glance at the clock told him, so he could expect Sam back around nine-ish, give or take an hour. Sunset was around seven.

Jennifer would be gone well before nightfall... but that other ghost... if it even existed, they didn't have a single lead on it.

Dean headed down to the lobby.

He'd noticed them yesterday, a group of older ladies with a basket of yarn in the middle of them, chatting up a storm. He and Sam hadn't spoken to them yesterday, but now that Sam was gone, it was time for Dean to dial up a very particular type of charm that Sam would tease him for mercilessly if he ever saw it. He stood nearby, waiting for his moment.

"I swear," one lady said. "I turned up my thermostat four times last night. I had it cranked all the way up to ninety, and I could hear the radiator groaning like anything, but my room was still freezing."

"Did you phone the concierge?" another lady said.

"I tried, but they just apologized and said it's an old hotel," replied the first. "Didn't even offer to send a handyman, or move me to a different room or anything. Anyway, that's why started coming down here during the day. I just can't stand it."

That was his chance. "You too?" he asked her. "Which room are you in?"

"I'm in 201, why?"

Bingo. 201. The same room as their suicide victim.

"Well, it got to a point where I got my tools outta my car and just fixed the darn radiator myself," Dean lied. "I could take a look at yours too, if you'd like."

"Would you?" she asked, sounding beyond relieved. "Oh, thank you so much. It's gotten so bad I can hardly sleep at night, so that would be a real godsend if you would do that. You're such a lamb."

"Oh, it's no problem, ma'am," Dean said, taking an empty seat nearby. "The name's Dean, by the way."

"I'm Millie," the woman said. "And these are my friends, Cathy and Debbie. We're in town for a big doll convention. We're collectors, you know. And Debbie even makes dolls herself out of felt."

"I do, and I've gotten pretty damn good at it, if I say so myself," Debbie said. "I even made a felt baby doll for my granddaughter's birthday a few months back and she was over the moon."

Upon closer inspection, all three of the ladies seemed to be knitting or crocheting very small clothes, presumably for dolls. Hopefully he could redirect the topic of conversation back to ghosts soon, because Dean didn't know Jack about dolls.

"What about you?" asked the third woman, Cathy. "What brings you to Lansing? I assume you don't live here, or you wouldn't be staying at a hotel."

"I'm here on business," he replied, silently thanking god that she'd changed the topic for him.

"What kind of business?" Millie asked. "You said you can fix a radiator, are you some kind of technician, or construction worker?"

"Actually... I'm a private investigator," he lied.

"Oooh, exciting!" Cathy said. "What are you investigating?"

"I'm afraid I can't share the details... but maybe you ladies could help me," he said. "Have any of you seen anything strange while you've been staying here?"

"I saw a man dancing near the park who could clasp his hands behind his back and pull them all the way in front of him," Debbie said. "That was pretty strange. I gave him a dollar."

"I was thinking more like in the hotel," Dean said. "Maybe like... a figure in a hazmat suit?"

Millie gasped, and Dean fixed his gaze on her.

"You have?"

"Well... you see, I have sleep paralysis," she said. "Last night, I had only managed to fall asleep for an hour or two because it was so cold, but then I woke up in the middle of the night because my room suddenly got even colder, but I couldn't move, of course. It takes me a while to be able to move after I wake up.

"And then I saw, like you said, someone wearing a hazmat suit, a black one with white gloves. They were small, like they weren't fully grown, and they were glowing," Millie explained. "Their suit was damaged, partly melted, it looked like. I'd never seen something like that before, but I just figured it had to be a sleep paralysis hallucination, and maybe it partly was, but do you think it could have been real? That someone broke into my room last night?"

"How frightening," Debbie said with a shiver.

"Maybe," Dean said. "Maybe not. I'm not really sure yet." He paused, consideringly. That was two people now who saw the hazmat suit, and this one saw it in the same room where the other ghost had died. "Did it say anything to you? Or do anything that you saw?"

"I couldn't really turn my head, but they seemed like they were looking for something, didn't seem to find it though. Nothing was missing from my room when I finally got up, at least," Millie said. "They didn't say anything, and only looked at me for a moment. Oh! But they might've been muttering something. Not sure what it was, though."

"Thanks, that's a lot of help," Dean said. "If you think of anything else, let me know?"

"Do you think I'm in danger?" Millie asked. "Should I request a room change after all?"

"If that would make you feel safer," Dean said. "I'm not sure it's as cut and dry as a break-in... but maybe you should just stay in one of your friend's rooms for a night."

"You can stay in my room tonight, Millie," Cathy volunteered.

He stayed for a little while, chatting with them. It wasn't something he wanted getting out, but old ladies always loved him for some reason. He even managed to get Cathy's key-lime pie recipe, which the other two swore up and down was absolutely to die for. Who knew when the next time he'd have a kitchen to try it out would be, but he'd make sure to write it down next chance he got, just in case.

It wasn't until he saw that red-haired teenage girl and a short, black-haired boy who was presumably her brother walk through the lobby that he excused himself to follow after them, claiming they were persons of interest in his case.

"If you didn't find anything, how did you even know it was the right room?" the sister was asking when Dean got close enough to hear.

He was trying hard not to be noticed while he tailed them, but as quietly as they were talking, he had to stick closer than he would have liked.

"That was where her presence was the strongest," the brother answered. "I just don't know how I'm supposed to help her when she's not strong enough to speak, and we're leaving tomorrow, so tonight is my last chance."

Could he be a psychic of some kind? Maybe a medium?

He turned around abruptly, and Dean barely had time to make it look like he was examining a shop's window display of... glass baubles and nick-knacks. Oh, yeah, he definitely seemed like the type to be interested in those. Hopefully they wouldn't question it.

"Is he staying at our hotel?" the brother whispered.

"Yeah," the sister confirmed, "and he was asking about cold spots and flickering lights, too. You think he knows something?"

"I think I'd rather stay away from him," replied the brother. "He could be the dangerous type."

After that, it seemed like the kids were deliberately trying to shake him, and it wasn't long before they did, almost as if they'd simply vanished into thin air.

Dean gave up searching and returned to the hotel. He found Millie in the lobby and asked if she'd let him into her room to fix the radiator, even brought the few tools that he'd had in his room to make the story more convincing.

"Even if you don't stay in here tonight, I figure I can at least do the hotel a favor," he said.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," she said. "Don't you go snooping around in my underwear drawer," she teased, and he laughed along with her until she closed the door behind her and headed back downstairs to her knitting.

Any evidence that there had been a suicide in this room had been long since erased. It was cold, just as Millie said it was, but there didn't appear to be any problem with the radiator. One of the tools he'd brought along was an iron crowbar, and he gripped it tightly.

"Jennifer, you in here?" he called out.

The time was 5:06, meaning Sam was probably digging up her grave right now.

He got no response.

"Jennifer?" he called again. "Jennifer Bishop?"

Nothing.... he was pretty sure that kid had been saying she wasn't a very powerful ghost, maybe that was why she hadn't done much. She hadn't actually killed or even hurt anyone beyond a couple of nightmares and a cold room. Maybe she couldn't show herself during the day.

The Winchester brothers had only stopped here because they happened to be so close by when Sam read an article that claimed guests at this hotel had seen apparitions, and experienced horrible nightmares about a woman slitting their wrists. But the nightmares weren't actually killing anybody. Normally, they wouldn't have even bothered, but they were only a few miles away, and nothing else was close by.

Dean opened his mouth to call out one more time, but before he could, there was a flash of light and a distant-sounding screen, and he watched as the ghost of Jennifer Bishop appeared and almost instantaneously disappeared.

One down. One to go.

And wow was this room suddenly sweltering. Millie wasn't kidding about turning her thermostat up to ninety. Dean adjusted it to a much more reasonable 74°F, and left to go tell Millie he'd fixed her radiator.

After she was done thanking him, he headed up to his room and called Sam.

"Dean?" Sam said. "I took care of Jennifer Bishop."

"I know, I saw her burn up," Dean replied. "Nicely done. Anyway, I got some new info about our second ghost."

"Yeah? Let's hear it."

"The lady staying in the room where Jennifer offed herself said she saw a glowing figure in a hazmat suit in her room, thought it was a sleep paralysis thing until I brought it up. She said it seemed like it was looking for something, but it didn't seem to find anything."

"So we have a second witness for our hazmat ghost," Sam said. "And the description lined up?"

"Exactly," Dean confirmed. "I also have a new theory about those siblings, the red-headed girl and her brother. I think the brother might be a psychic, and was looking for a way to help Jennifer pass on peacefully, except she wasn't a strong enough spirit for him to connect with. Not sure how or even if this ties into the hazmat ghost at all."

"Still no clues about who it could be?" Sam asked.

"Nada," Dean said. "I did confirm that there was no lab or any kind of scientific facility at this site before the hotel was built. According to the hotel manager, before it was a hotel, it was a movie theater that went out of business during the great depression and got torn down, and before that, it was live-theater, but I'm pretty sure that was before hazmat suits were even invented. Before that, nothing. Just an empty lot."

"So maybe we're looking for someone who died somewhere else and their spirit was brought to the hotel connected to a cursed object," Sam suggested. "Have you seen anything in the hotel that looks like it might have come from a lab? Or belong to some kind of scientist?"

"If it was something that belonged to them, then it could be anything," Dean pointed out in exasperation. "A chair, or a painting, or a vase? I'm not gonna be able to find it unless I know what it is."

"You'd better start looking into any deaths in the area that might have been related to radioactive materials then," Sam said. "Any kind of death that might have occurred while the deceased was wearing a hazmat suit."

"Yeah, something that would have burned right through it," Dean said. "According to our descriptions, the suit is partially melted."

"You got this Dean?" I still have two and a half hours of driving to go.

"Yeah, I got it," Dean replied.

He did not got it. He got nothing. He stayed at the library until it closed at eight and didn't find a single death that fit the description. He got back to the hotel around the same time Sam did.

"Did you fill the tank?" he asked immediately.

"Yes, Dean, I filled the tank," Sam replied, rolling his eyes. "Did you identify our hazmat?"

Dean shook his head. "Nah, I couldn't find squat. It's like this ghost is..."

"A ghost?" Sam finished for him, raising an eyebrow.

Dean scowled. That had been what he was about to say, but he knew it sounded stupid, that's why he'd stopped.

"Yeah."

Sam shook his head as they went back up to their room.

—

The brothers were still puzzling out what to do about their second ghost, Dean cleaning his guns while Sam poured over their dad's journal, when they heard a muffled gasp from above them. Floating there on the ceiling was a figure in a hazmat suit, its faint glow barely visible in the light of the room.

For an instant, none of them moved. Then, acting quickly, Dean grabbed the crowbar that was next to him on the bed and flung it at the figure on the ceiling.

Rather than passing right through, causing the hazmat ghost to dissipate, the crowbar made contact with a clang, hitting it right on the head and knocking it to the floor between the two beds.

"Quick, salt, Sammy!" Dean shouted, rather than gape at the seemingly unconscious 'ghost' on their floor.

He tried to grab the hazmat-wearing figure, and to his surprise, it worked. He dragged it into the armchair in their room while Sam laid a ring of salt around it.

"Do you actually think this'll work, Dean?" Sam asked. "I mean, it doesn't seem like any ghost I've ever seen. Iron is supposed to repel ghosts, not actually hit them. I'm pretty sure this is something else."

"Iron hurt it—"

"Being hit in the head with a crowbar hurt it," Sam pointed out. "Based on that, it could be human for all we know."

"It was on the ceiling, Sam," Dean said flatly, grabbing the iron chains from under the bed and wrapping them around their captive. "And this don't look like Spider-Man to me."

"Well it doesn't look like a ghost, either," Sam insisted.

"So, what, you think this is some kind of Scooby-Doo situation?" Dean asked. "We'll pull off the mask and it turns out it's just some shady real-estate developer who wanted to get the hotel closed down so they could turn it into a theme park? Let's try it then."

Dean grabbed the hood of the hazmat suit and tore it off. 

They both gasped at what they saw.

Whoever it was, he looked young, maybe 13 or 14. His hair was as white as sheet and floated on an imaginary breeze. His face was dark. Lightning-bolt scars criss-crossed it all the way down to the neck until they disappeared under the suit's collar. His skin appeared to be badly burned, flaking off in ashes which vanished before they hit the ground.

He groaned as he started to come back to consciousness, and when he opened his eyes, they were a solid, eerie green, glowing so brightly they almost hurt to look at, even in the well-lit room.

"Still think he's human?" Dean asked quietly.

Sam shook his head, wide-eyed and dumbstruck.

"This sure as hell never happened on Scooby-Doo."

"Ugh," the mysterious boy groaned again, blinking and shaking his head like he was trying to get his bearings. "Did you seriously throw a crowbar at my head?" he demanded after a moment. "What the hell, dude?!"

"What are you?" Sam demanded. "A demon?"

"I'm a ghost, what the hell does it look like?" the boy replied.

"You don't look like any ghost we've ever seen," Dean said.

"Let me guess, you're more used to shades like the other ghost that was floating around this hotel, right?" the kid guessed. "She seems to have left the building though. You two got any idea why?"

"We took care of her," Dean replied. "Sam dug her up and salted and burned her bones. And if you really are a ghost, then we can do the same to you."

"You... you straight up ended her?" he asked. "Just like that? You didn't even give her the chance to move on? Ancients, what the hell!"

"She had the chance to move on when she died, and she didn't take it," Dean said. "Instead she terrorized people, so we showed up to stop her."

"She gave a few people nightmares! Everyone has nightmares sometimes! You didn't have to destroy her!"

"What's it to you, did you know her?" Sam asked. "She a friend of yours?"

"Well... no, but I was trying to?" the boy replied. "She was too weak to capture, and I didn't want to destroy her by trying to fight, so I was trying to learn more about her and help her move on."

"If you're a ghost, why don't you move on?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, what's keeping you around?" Dean echoed the sentiment more harshly.

"The same thing preventing you from salting and burning my bones," came the reply. The so-called ghost did not elaborate.

"And what would that be?" Dean finally asked.

"I guess you could say I'm not dead enough yet."

"So you're not a ghost, then," Sam said.

"I am," said the boy. "I'm not a shade, like that woman you ended. I'm what a ghost is like when we actually have enough power to be a whole person and not just a shadow of our former self. I'm a ghost like you've never encountered before."

"Whatever you are, we're gonna get rid of you," Dean jeered.

"Why?" asked the boy. "I haven't hurt anyone. All I did was try to help another ghost pass peacefully through the veil. Don't you hunters have any sort of moral code?"

"So, what?" Sam asked. "You're proposing we just let you go?"

"Fat chance," Dean scoffed.

"Not exactly," the ghost replied with a smirk. "More like I'm telling you not to feel to guilty when I escape." Then the ghost stood up, iron chains falling right off him. "Iron is more difficult to pass through without destabilizing, but not too much of a challenge for ghosts like me. Sorry, but this will be the last time we see each other."

With that, he pulled his hood back on, obscuring his face once more, so the only thing visible was the glow of his eyes behind the black lenses of his mask. Then he flew right up through the ceiling.

The Winchesters tried to find him. They searched the hotel top to bottom, probably looking half-mad, but he was gone. He'd simply vanished without a trace. And they never did see him again.

[ampblamp]

AU: Here's How Billford Can Still Win

(part 1: make that triangle miserable)

tl;dr: i want bill to have his ability to live in denial about what he did shattered by several important figures from his past BEFORE he can enact weirdmageddon. this way the yaoi can be messy and toxic (at first) but NOT doomed. it's self indulgent for sure but i'm doin my best to keep it IC as i can 🫡

this first post is just me figuring out how i think things would have to go down on bill's end for billford to have any chance of working out. take my hand. come away with me to my autism world

i'm still figuring out all the details of what would have to change to like. weaken bill's mental defenses enough because he HAS been able to shove his guilt down for so long. i do think everything with ford would be one of the key factors cause he had never connected so much with any of his prior human partners and obviously things souring fucked him up enough to have a turbo breakdown. (i know it's also because of the amount of times the plan has failed but i think he's also feeling rejected by so many humans not liking him lolll)

i think his breakdown after getting wasted at o'sadley's would happen like in canon, save for its repercussions. once bill starts thinking about his mom and everyone else from euclydia around when he's about to be arrested, maybe it would open the door for thoughts of them to keep slipping through his defenses. and suddenly thinking about weirdmageddon and hearing himself and other people talking about it could have a chance of triggering him.

i know personally that trauma can jump in and completely drag you back in time regardless of any logic, and i think him having that kind of episode sooner might be the key to getting him to face that he doesn't want to keep repeating what he did to euclydia because it's never going to be enough to convince the small, small voice in his head saying 'stop'.

because that's just the thing. bill has forced himself down a path of destruction to Prove to himself that its actually for the best to tear down "miserable reality" and replace it with his own vision. his drive and impatience to get weirdmageddon going is BECAUSE he wants to permanently cement that narrative in his mind with the ultimate "proof". because if the narrative fails, not only will he not be able to mentally cope (without help) he'll completely fail the henchmaniacs, who he promised a new home, and look vulnerable and weak, which he's TRAINED them to view as what should be destroyed.

i think the o'sadley breakdown and my proposed worsened repercussions of it would destabilize him, but it wouldn't be enough to stop him. what would push bill over the edge in this hypothetical would be several powerful entities from bill's past like the axolotl, the oracle, and time baby working together to somehow target his mental weak point. cause remember, time baby canonically KNOWS bill's weak point.

also like. To Me. the axolotl and the oracle are people bill was close to and has seen himself in at one point* but they matured and he didn't, and that's why he's SO hostile towards them.

*the oracle being an ex-henchmaniac is canon but i say this about the axolotl because of xolotl. look him up, it'll freak your bean.

alsooooo... ford not being as immature and vengeful as bill hoped he was is probably why bill broke down so hard - because it reminded him of the axolotl and the oracle. all the people who he actually connected with on a deeper level have left because of the same reason. but bill was always too terrified to confront everything he's done, which would be necessary to follow them.

so ends part 1... next, i think i'm gonna try to figure out how ford and bill would meet again (haha). ford is sucked into the portal right after (maybe even during?) the whole o'sadley's deal iirc sooo... fun point in the timeline to play with!

also hopin to draw stuff for this AU in the future :]c calling upon the power of my newly aquired ADHD meds lmao

[eyesxxyou]

that's what they all say pt.3 (finale)

↳ ❝ [dbf!miguel o'hara x black!reader] ¡! ❞

rating. m

word count. 5k

synopsis. you wish your father would stop making you be near miguel but when you arrive at his house to drop something off, you meet the most important person in his life

or

you and miguel finally get together

warnings. p in v sex, unprotected sex (stay responsible), creampie, breeding/pregnancy kink, oral (f receiving), Miguel's ready to wife you up, sweet little Gabriella, Miguel being so father, Lyla's here! I also changed it so that Miguel's ex-wife is dead instead of them being divorced because I could. Let me know if I missed anything!

tags: @ihateuguys @chshiresins @futuristicpandakid

part 1 | part 2

It’s been all of a week since the gala and you were right, things with you and Nathan didn’t work out. You had broken up with him the very next night and of course, it didn’t feel good but you thought it better to end it now before he thought things were getting serious. Then the slew of curses came from him ranging broadly from calling you a “fucking bitch” to telling you that “you’re not even that pretty anyway”. All the usual bullshit.

It was no chip off your shoulder all in all.

It has, however, been growing more and more difficult to be around your father. You’ve fucked Miguel twice now and he was absolutely none the wiser. Someone so technically smart but when it comes to everything else he was completely unaware. All the while, he spoke more and more fondly of his friend. “Miguel” this, “Miguel” that, “that man is a genius!”

‘Yeah, so smart I bet his head game is insane”, you think to yourself, hating yourself for it. But you smile all the same at yourself because it’s a joke for you and only you.

Don’t get yourself wrong though, you are on no good terms with Miguel despite the angry sex you two had in the bathroom of the gala. When you left him in the bathroom, you went to sit back down with your father and Nathan just as dinner was being served. Miguel didn’t return until maybe 10 minutes later, a thin sheet of sweat on his neck, his hair haphazardly restyled, and his once neat bowtie a bit uneven. There was no way he could come back to the party the way you left him, still hard and aching.

He ended up jerking himself off, his cock still slick with your essence. Was it shameful? Yes, utterly embarrassing too. His hand gripped the counter so hard, his hand stroking his length fast and hard with his eyes closed, trying to imagine you right there with him. God, your smell was still on his fingers and it was driving him crazy.

You didn’t spare him a single look the rest of the night and it drove him absolutely mad. You knew it too. That’s why you did it.

Anyways, spending your day running errands and doing chores for your father was not how you’d like to be spending a day off from your demanding job but you knew if you weren’t there to take care of him, he’d be wasting away in his own filth because he cares only about his career. You’ve been cleaning up the small amount of clutter he had around when he comes out with a metal box.

"I need you to take this to Miguel for me."

You immediately retract at the idea. "And why can't you do it? I'm already cleaning your house. Why don't you have a robot maid to do this anyway?" You know he's just too caught up in his own thing to do such a thing. You think you might gift him one to save yourself the energy.

"One, because I'm working on something incredibly important right now and I'm wasting precious time just by talking to you right now. Two, why would I do that when I have you?" He cracks a joke that doesn't even begin to bring a smile to your face but he brushes off your downer mood. "Look, Miguel and I are working on DNA splicing and he needs this sample ASAP. It's very important he gets it. I need you to take it because I don't trust anyone else with it."

You look at the box, your lip curling with the beginnings of a "no" but you know better than that. "I don't even know where he lives."

"Already sent you his address."

You try to find another way to avoid him. "Can I just leave it on his doorstep?" And the disappointment is palpable as your father shakes his head. "Nope, needs to be taken directly from your hands into his." His eyes narrow as you sigh. "Why are you so reluctant to go? You've never had a problem with Miguel before. You two are always messing around."

'Oh you wouldn't know the half of it, dad.'

"It's nothing. I'm just tired, that's all. I'll take it to him." It would be quick, in and out, you'd barely exchange a word, so much as a glance. 

Saying that you'll take it and actually taking it were two entirely different beasts. The first thing you thought standing outside of his house was that his home was distinctly him, overly geometric, sharp edges and corners but with a surprising amount of large windows, all tinted with reflective sheeting making it impossible to see inside. What if he already saw you? What if he was standing there, looking out of one of those windows at you standing at the end of his driveway? The thought terrified you.

You approached the front door and jammed your finger at the doorbell. Oddly enough, there was no chime. To your surprise, a small hologram of a woman appeared in front of you. She wore a large, white, fur coat and pink, heart-shaped glasses. Her smile was broad. “And who are you?”

“Y/N. I’m here to drop something off to Miguel.”

“Ohhh so you’re Y/N!” She suddenly appeared on top of the box, sitting with her legs crossed in front of you. “Oh you have put Miguel through it. I’ve never seen him so stressed over one person. How’d you do it?” You never expected Miguel’s virtual assistant to be so forward.

“I-”

And then the front door swung open and the hologram glitched away. You expected to see Miguel’s towering frame in the door but it’s not there; instead, your eyes catch sight of a little girl maybe 9 or 10 years old looking up at you with big, brown eyes. It’s absolutely unmistakable that she is Miguel’s daughter. She looks just like him. “Who are you?” Her voice is sweet and small, timid even.

You smiled softly and knelt down in front of her, setting the box down beside you. “I’m Y/N, a friend of your dad’s.” You offer out a hand to her and she takes it, shaking firmly. “I’m Gabriella everyone calls me Gabi though.” She came out of her shell so quickly, smiling just like her dad. It warmed your heart.

“Lyla, I told you not to let Gabi open the door.” You could hear Miguel’s voice approaching from around the corner. He was in a black shirt that hugged him in all the right places and gray sweatpants hanging just at his hips. He was rubbing a towelette down his face, wiping off messily done makeup undoubtedly done by the unstable hands of his daughter.

Miguel saw you and paused for a moment. “Y/N?” He began to wipe his face harder. “Gabi, mija. You need to get ready. Your friend will be here soon.” He had a few remnants of glitter in the corners of his eyes that he missed and his lips were still slightly stained cherry red. Gabriella turned to her father. “I already got all my things together, Papa.”

“Do you have all of your soccer stuff together?” He asks and she nods vigorously. “Knee pads?” Again she nods. “Shin guards?” Gabriella wraps her arm around his leg. “Papa, I have everything. You already checked my bag twice.” Miguel sighed and gently patted her head. He looked to you again as you grabbed the handles to the sealed metal box and stood once more.

“I’m just here to drop this off.” You place the box inside beside his door, too uncomfortable to dare yourself to take a step inside. “I’ll take my leave now.”

“Hold on.” Miguel was quick to say. He had you here, at his house, for the first time ever. “Can we talk for a minute?” His eyes are soft, a bit pleading.

You look at Gabriella and think about how you don’t want to start anything in front of his daughter. You hesitate, chew softly on your lip. “Yeah, sure.” You come inside, pick up the box so you can hand it off to him.

You don’t like being so close to him. You hate the way his fingers graze yours has he takes the box from you. “Thanks,” he mutters, setting the box down on his coffee table. He tapped the table and it lit up with a screen. “Lyla, make sure this box remains secure until I pick it up again.” The holographic woman from before showed up like she was laying on top of the table. “Got it, Miguel and Gabi’s friend is pulling up.” She points to the door before disappearing again.

Gabriella grins and runs off to go get her things so she can go and for the first time, you and Miguel are alone again. You don’t look at each other, both trying to find something to say in the moment. All you really wanted to do was leave. You felt like you were intruding on something deeply personal. You’re in his home. His daughter is here. This is his whole life right here.

“Is it always this chaotic here?” Your voice breaks the silence. You feel like it’s too loud. Why are your ears ringing?

A small smile creeps onto Miguel’s lips. “No, not usually. Gabi’s just excited to go to her friend’s house.” His smile faded softly and cleared his throat. He turned his whole body to you, broad shoulders sloping to a small waist. God, you loved his body. “Y/N-”

“Papa, I’m ready!” Gabriella came bouncing downstairs with her duffle bag, ready to run off with her friend. She runs to her father and he catches her, lifting her with an exaggerated groan. “Oh, you’re getting so big, mija. Soon I won’t be able to carry you around.” You doubt that much, with how large he was. He could probably pick you up as you were now.

You see how gentle he is with her, how soft his voice is, how he holds her like she’s the most precious thing in the world.

“Are you still coming to my soccer game tomorrow?” Gabriella asks him, her lips forming into a small pout as her hands grasp at his shirt. Miguel’s eyes softened. “Of course, mi amor. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Your heart warmed as he peppered kisses across her face and she let out a series of squeals and giggles. As much as you told yourself you hated him, he was a wonderful father and it was clear he adored his daughter. What a lovely little girl too.

He set her down and Gabriella looked up at you. “It was nice meeting you!” God, she was adorable. You smiled at her with a small hint of maternal kindness. “It was nice meeting you too, Gabi.”

She runs off out the door and Miguel follows her, seeing her off out the door before closing it. He sighed softly and looked back at you as you gaze around at his house. It’s decorated with a lot of pictures of him and Gabriella but none with a wife or girlfriend. Is that why he and your father are such good friends? Single fathers in their own ways whether it was by divorce or death. You’re too scared to touch anything, not knowing what’s a screen or not or what might activate Lyla.

“I think we need to talk about things.” Miguel begins with hesitation laced up in his voice, not knowing if this would spark an argument between the two of you. You squirm in your own skin. “I don’t know if there’s anything to talk about. I don’t know if you’ve finally decided where you stand but I know where I do.” You know the truth. The slightest push to sway you and you might come back around. You wanted him badly every single time you saw him. You always wanted his lips on yours, wanted his hands on your waist.

“I made my decision.”

You raise a brow at him, your arms crossing tightly over your chest as if to protect yourself from him. “Oh? And what is that?”

Miguel bites the inside of his cheek, his teeth clawing at the soft flesh. “I want you.” It took very little thought to come to that conclusion after the gala. He looked up at you while you were riding him and only thought that he wanted your face to be the first he sees when he wakes up and when he goes to sleep at night. He likes the way you feel in his hold, how you smell, how, for the first time since his fiance's death giving birth to Gabi, he thinks he could be happy with someone.

You hum like you’re not impressed. You tell yourself that you’re not going to give in so easily, he has to try harder than just that. You keep your back turned to him, not hearing how he approached so quickly and quietly. “Mía Carina, please.” His hand is suddenly on your waist, his fingers dipping into your flesh as he pulls you towards him

“What do you want me to say, Miguel? You want me to just fall into you and tell you I want you too?” You turn to look up at him and find that he’s much closer than you expected. “It’s going to take a lot more than just that.” You can see the way his mind whirls on his face as he thinks of what to do to get you to understand just how much he wants you and everything that comes with you.

You don’t expect him to get down on his knees in front of you, his hands on your hips as he pulls you close and presses his face into your stomach. “You don’t understand, mía carina. I want you. I want you and all the consequences that come along with it. Fuck– let your dad hate me, I don’t care. Please, Y/N. God, you don’t even know.” His voice strains as he looks up at you. He can see that he’s getting to you. The confliction on your face gives you away.

“You told me I was too young.” All you can think about is that first night. The idea of the two of you being together did seem a bit ludicrous but the way things fell apart that night.

“Baby-” Miguel’s hands gripped tighter. “What was I supposed to say? I’m in my 40s now. I have a daughter and you’re just beginning your life. I didn’t want you to be stuck with me and all these responsibilities.”

“That wasn’t for you to decide, Miguel.”

He kisses along the waistline of your pants. The softness of his lips grazing your hips sends a shiver skidding down the length of your spine. “You’re right and I’m sorry, muñeca.” His fingers slip beneath your shirt. “Please forgive me. Let me make it up to you.” His hands trace along the slopes of your body, the dips and curves that he so badly wants to commit to memory. “Lemme make it up to you, my pretty girl.”

He wraps your arms around your thighs and stands up, tossing you over his shoulder with ease. You squeal with surprise. “Miguel, what are you doing?” You hit his back but it has little to no effect on him.

“I told you, I’m gonna make it up to you.” He began to carry up upstairs to what you could only assume was his bedroom. You figured there wasn’t anything you could do about the situation at this point and that you might as well enjoy the ride and the amazing view of his ass.

He took you into his room and laid you down rather gently on his neatly made bed. Miguel stood above you with his hips between your legs. You made a motion to sit up but he shook his head with a disapproving click of his tongue. “No, you don’t do a thing. You’ll be a real muñeca now, won’t you?” His fingers play with the button on your jeans before undoing the fixture.

Miguel took his sweet time getting your clothes off, starting with your shoes and socks then continuing with your pants. He kissed your pelvis as he removed your underwear, this time keeping it intact. His kisses are wet, gentle, and teasing as he maintains eye contact all the way through. He leaves marks where his lips meet your skin, littering you with blossoming red marks all across your stomachHe takes your shirt next and finally your bra, leaving you completely bare before him.

Miguel’s large hands come to fondle your breasts, squeezing and manipulating the soft, malleable flesh against his warm palms. He thinks about how nice you’d look with swollen, tender breasts ready to feed his child. God, now he was thinking about impregnating you. Making his family all the bigger.

You’re so soft, every part of you drives him up the wall. He nudged the bulge of his cock against your core, feening to be inside you. “So pretty.” He murmured. “Mi linda muñeca. So beautiful.” Miguel trailed his fingertips along your body, between your breasts, down your diaphragm and naval and smiled at the way your body reacted so violently to his touch. He got on his knees at the end of his bed, placing either of your legs over your shoulders. You tremble as his large, calloused hands gripped and massaged the soft flesh of your thighs.

Miguel began his descent with a few kisses at your knees, slowly trailing his lips across the sensitive, supple flesh of your inner thighs. His breath is hot and each exhale builds an anticipation that begins to grow unbearable.

"Miguel please." You whine, desperate to know all he can do with that tongue of his. His teasing was killing you slowly and softly, the more torturous way to go. And how can he refuse you when you sound so pretty like that for him? He nipped at your thighs a little more, growing closer and closer to your wanting cunt growing wetter for him by the moment.

Finally, he kissed the slickened lips of your pussy. A sloppy, wet kiss with his tongue circling your swollen clit. Miguel spat on your pussy and watched it pool at your entrance. He put his fingers in the mess of it, humming softly as he eased his middle finger into your wanton hole. You whine again, buckling your hips down because his pace is excruciatingly slow.

Miguel placed his hand on your pelvis to keep you still. “Be patient for me. Can you do that for me, mía carina?” He fucks his middle finger into you a couple times before pushing his index finger in with it. His digits were long and thick, pushing and curling and massaging your silky walls in search of that soft spot that could have you crumbling in seconds.

His tongue was on your rosebud again, lips latched and suckling while his tongue flicked against the little bundle of nerves. Miguel kept his eyes on you, watching the way your face contorted. Your brows pinched with concentration and your lips parted to let a few strangled moans escape. Your fingers were in his hair, grasping at his soft curls. “Just like that– God…oh fuck, Miguel!” His fingers were pumping in and out fast and hard. Your heels dug into his back and your toes curled with pleasure.

It was almost pathetic how easily he could coax an orgasm out of you. The right stroke of his fingers and swirl of his tongue and he had you seeing stars and left your ears ringing. The building of a climax in the pit of your stomach bubbled like boiling water. You let your eyes close, squeezed them shut to concentrate on that feeling, help build it into something more and let it come to complete fruition.

“Go ahead and cum for me, muñeca. Can you do that just for me?” The low rumble of his voice against your aching cunt was enough to do just that. Your back arched off the bed, your fingers twisted in his hair, tugging at his roots to keep him close. Miguel slips his fingers from your, replacing it with his tongue while his arched nose continues to rub your clit. He liked the taste of you on his tongue, liked bringing you so much pleasure that your muscles spasmed and seized uncontrollably. His fingers massaged your thighs and hips. “Good girl. Mi buena chica.”

Miguel kissed your thighs again, his teeth grazing across your skin as your legs trembled. He was hard now—harder than before at least. His lips were slick with the very thing he hopes no one else in the world will ever get the chance to taste. He stood against, looked down at your little fucked out frame with tenderness. God, he loved you.

“Can you sit up for me, mi alma?” He asks you. You loved how gentle he was being with you and wanted to please him, so you fought against the aftershock of your orgasm and sat up in front of him. Your face was just against his pelvis with the obvious tint in his pants brushing his lips. You grabbed his hips and looked up at him. The valley of his abs and all those muscles.

“You’re such a good daddy, Miguel.” You murmur, kissing the swell while your hands slipped beneath his shirt to caress his muscles. “How sweet you were with Gabriella. I love a man that’s good with children.”

“Oh really?” Miguel bent down at the waist to kiss you, purring softly against your plush lips. “Funny, I was just thinking about how nice and pretty you’d look pregnant and in my bed.” You moaned softly against his lips, your hand stroking the back of his neck. “Miguel.” His large hands were on your breasts again.

“You want to help me make another baby? Make me a daddy again?” His tongue was against yours. “I wanna make you a mommy. WIll you let me do that?” He wanted to cum deep inside you, press his hand against the exterior of your womb and know that his child was growing in there. It might just be a nice little fantasy, hormones running high, but it turned him on. It turned you on too. Birth control in these times meant you couldn’t get pregnant unless you intentionally stopped taking it. No risks involved.

“Yes, please.” You pushed Miguel back so you could stand up. The height difference was much the same but now you were at least at his chest. You looked up at him with wide, pretty eyes and offered him the same human kindness he offered you by removing his clothes. You grabbed the hem of his shirt and helped him take it off before doing the same with his sweatpants and underwear. You realize that for the first time, you two are completely naked in front of each other, bare and vulnerable.

Miguel kissed you again because he simply couldn’t help it. He kissed you because even though it hurt his back to keep bending down like this, he loved kissing you so much that it didn’t matter. He picked you up with ease and walked around the side of the bed to place you further up on it. He climbed up on top of you, caressed the side of your body as he grabbed a pillow.

"How do you want it?" He asked, liking to give you a choice in the matter. You looked at the pillow he was grasping and took it from him. Miguel watched as you lied on your stomach and quickly caught on when you placed the pillow beneath your hips to elevate them. He liked the way you thought.

Miguel mounted the back of your thighs, wrapping his hand around the veiny length of his cock while his other hand pulled your hips up a bit more to expose your tight, wet, little pussy. He tapped the head against your entrance before easing himself in just enough that he no longer needed his hand to guide. He leaned over you, pushing deeper until his hips met your ass flush and everything that made the two of you two separate beings disappeared.

You turned to look back at him from your position and hooked your arm over his shoulder and around his neck to pull him close. His hands were on either side of your body, supporting the both of you. Miguel kissed you and at the same time thrusted his hips sharply into you. “You’ll make such a great mom, mía carina. I’ll put a baby nice and deep in you and we’ll be a happy family.” He rocked his hips, pulling back until just the tip remained positioned against your wonton pussy before sinking back into his own personal heaven.

Miguel wasn’t fucking you. It wasn’t fast or rough or fueled by blatant, blinded lust. His pace was slow and steady, quite nice actually.  Each thrust drew a placid moan from your lips or a whimper of Miguel’s name against his tongue. Thai kind of sex was the baby-making kind of sex. You never had it but you knew it all the same, you could feel it. This was the kind of sex that made his daughter.

“You’ll be such a good mom to Gabriella.” He kissed your cheek, tracing his lips across the curve of your jaw. He hoped saying something like that wouldn’t scare you away because he wanted you to be a part of his family. Gabriella never met her mother, grew up without any semblance of a mother figure at all. At first, it was just because he was heartbroken, freshly widowed, and now with a daughter. Then after a couple years when he thought he might finally be able to get back out there, the occasional date here but no one was allowed to meet his daughter. He didn’t want anyone who wasn’t going to be a lasting part of his life make an impression on her, get her mind going. He was afraid her real mother might be replaced, that Gabriella might be mistaken. So he made sure she knew who her mother was, showed her pictures of her, told her stories, etc.

It’s only been in recent years that Miguel has realized that Gabriella still needed a maternal figure in her life. And trying to find someone willing to step up and raise a kid that isn’t theirs is hard to imagine, no less you, a girl in her 20s with no children of her own and a whole life ahead of her. He wasn’t trying to tie you down like that.

You moan softly, loving the way his body pressed against yours. Your skin stuck to his with the thin layer of sweat that seemed to try and bound you two together. You loved how full you elt, his cock plunging in and out at you in firm, timed strokes. The two of you so desperately clung on to each other like someone was trying to pull you two away from each other.

The way you felt with Miguel was electric, like nothing you ever felt before and you thought that this might actually be love. This could be love right here and that terrified you and excited you. Because you were so in love that you were perfectly happy with the idea of being a close part of his personal life, eventually coming to help parent his daughter at your age.

“I’m close, my love.” Miguel was beginning to lose all sense of self. His breathing began to pick up as his hips buckled a bit faster. “Gonna cum in your pretty little pussy, claim it all as mine.” He sat up finally and suddenly you felt a bit cold without his body on yours. His large hands grasped your hips to keep you still and watched as his cock sank deep into you. God, the way your walls stretched to contain him, gripped him like no other.

You knew he was just on the edge when his hips began to slow into spaced, yet harsh thrusts. “Fuck, fuck, fuck– God.” He choked as his abdomen tightened and he pressed his narrow hips as hard as he could against your ass, pressing himself as deep as he could inside you.

You moan at the feeling of his hot cum filling you, painting your walls in nice, thick spurts. Miguel lets out a low groan, his eyes squeezing shut as you rock back and forth on his dick, milking him for all he had to offer you. There was so much that it began to leak at the corners, creating a milky white ring right at your entrance.

Miguel left you slowly, not truly wanting to leave the soft warmth of your body. Cum immediately began to surface and dribble down the front of your lips. It was quite the sight, such a beautiful one. He just had to take a moment to admire his work.

“You havin’ fun back there?” You ask after a beat of silence. You turn around beneath Miguel and sit up just enough to kiss his chest before he bends down to meet you halfway. His hands come to find purchase on your jaw, his thumbs rubbing circles on your cheekbones. Your smile into the kiss before laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

You stifle your laughter as you pull away from him and lay back down on top of his bedsheets. “My dad is so gonna kill you.” You look up at Miguel as he runs his fingers through his hair and sighs. He came and laid down beside you, wrapping a arm around your waist to pull you closer. “Let’s not tell him just yet. I have to figure out the best way to explain it.”

You roll over and murmur into his lightly hair-covered chest. “I don’t think there’s any good way to explain this to him. Might as well rip the bandaid off while he’s not expecting it.”

“That might be the right move.”

[werecreature-addicted]

Hmm currently thinking abt a werewolf bf being jealous . . . seeing you having tons of male friends. in front of them, he’d get possessive, sure, but at home? a bit sad and very whiny. like he thinks you’ll lose interest in him for just…talking to a normal guy?? :( ur so pretty so you could get anyone you wanted, why waste ur time on an ugly beast like him? u gotta comfort him and give him tons of kisses so he’ll feel better.

(he’ll also mark u so everyone knows ur his)

He thinks he's sooooo slick. Your werewolf boyfriend truly and deeply believes that he's being subtle when he pulls you onto his lap in the middle of a party and glares at all your friends.

He hates when your attention is on anyone else when you laugh or smile at any other guy and he'll do anything to get your attention back on him.

Really- he has no idea how you can be so clueless, do you not see the way your "friends" look at you? the way these men glance at your mouth when you talk, or how they sneak glances at your ass when you walk away. It's insane you haven't noticed yet how badly every one of them wants you.

Your werewolf boyfriend pulls you closer when you're out in public, he kisses you in faux subtle ways, hoping the two of you get caught so that he can prove you belong to him. He knows you'd never cheat on him... but you might dump him, you might fall out of love with him and stay in the relationship anyways because you pity him. and he can't have that.

He knows what he is. maybe you'll get sick of being with a freak like him. Maybe you want to be with a partner you can see no matter what the moon cycle is. Or maybe you'll just get bored of him, the way he is without all the werewolf stuff. He hates that idea so much, it makes his stomach churn every time he thinks about it.

You can always tell when your Werewolf boyfriend is feeling jealous or insecure. He starts following you around the house like- well like a lost puppy. He'll be extra cuddly and touchy and whine when you try to get up.

Imagine a 6'5 werewolf kneeling beside you and giving you the softest look and asking "Are you mad at me?" because you're planning dinner with friends next week.

You remind him that you love him, and only him, and that you don't mind the wolf parts of him. Still, he doesn't feel better until you let him bite you.

He doesn't know what it is about marking you like this that just drives him wild, some deep instinct that tells him to bite down on your neck and shoulder to prove to everyone around you that you are taken.

Your werewolf boyfriend does a good job of distracting you while he marks you too. you'll be so blissed out that you won't even mind getting your throat ripped out.

[flauntyourfoolishness]

kinda want to see a perv!big bro who 'decides he is entitled' (loves his lil sis so much he has to fuck her but he is incapable of being a good big bro that simply wants to please his girl) to his weird, closed-off and also fucked up in the head little sister's pushy. she, who instead of being manipulated by him into getting him off or scared, she just does whatever he says, expressionless and making eye contact with him the whole time. even though sometimes she tears up and looks mad and sometimes she moans and push his hair or grip and scratch him as she curls her toes in pleasure, when he's done riding his high,,, it doesn't matter if he kisses her passionately or treat her strictly as his holes to use,,, she just goes to clean herself or,,,,,,,, keep his cum in her as she gets out of the room and interacts normally with their family, his friends...

the way it doesn't matter how much he taunts her, she just keeps being indifferent to his feelings to how,, basically, they are hopeless degenerates,,, it makes him a little lovesick crazy, hard as a rock, which in turn, makes her be pressed against a wall or a door or bent over on some furniture

some of his friends, always eager to embrace whatever is freaky, either tries to ignore the hints of the dynamic (just because) or smirk at her, giving knowing glances, letting her now they know,,, the more wicked the glint in their eyes seem, the more nasty things they probably know about their deeds,,,, but she looks away and stays unfazed,,, mostly,, trying to suppress a smile from how giddy it makes her feel,,,, boyish antics

whenever big bro say something to try to rile her up or turn her on in front of them so he can get off to degrading and humiliating her (she is usually unresponsive but he never stops trying bc he's obsessed). she looks up from her phone to look quickly at every single boy's face, without wasting the energy to lift her head up, and then looks back at her phone, unbothered.

they are all looking at her, not hiding that they would jump at the chance to enjoy free access to their best friend's lil sis, expecting the opportunity to tease her but she never shy away from them,, just ignores it, or,,, sometimes,,, going out of her way to be between the mainspread men on the couch when the siblings' parents are at home,,, they all want to grip her thighs but,,,,,,,, just silently enjoy the way her bro actually does it, shamelessly if their parents are out, as if she is his to pet, grip, pinch, hold tight and she is,,, or purposefully slapping her thigh as hard as he can so their parents would subtly throw curious glances at the living room, poking their heads to check what the loud noise was but dismissing it when they hear all the boys snickering, assuming it's just harmless play, unaware of the dark red full imprint of their perv son on their daughter's thigh, that makes the blood of all of the teenagers in the house rush to where it shouldn't be rushing in their household, right under their noses

he revel in the knowledge that whenever he slaps her ass in front of his friends, stays way too close behind her when they are all crowded up in the kitchen, sniffing her or kind of backhugging his sis and sometimes even shamelessly rubbing himself on her ass, pulling her to his lap when 'the cost is clear',,,, said friends are intently watching, pupils fully blown, salivating, awkwardly fixing their shorts,,,, cocks hard on command due to the deviant acts they are witnessing

he does all that and expects her to either match his high drive, desperately seek the attention she sometimes let it show that she enjoys,,, or even give him an actual good reason to manhandle her, hatefuck her,,, like, telling him to stop, cursing him or fighting back,,, instead of simply look back at him and,,,,,, getting herself off of how she doesn't have to do anything, she doesn't have to try,,,,,, he's completely obsessed with her and he gets a thrill out of it, loving every single minute of how he's always around, always touching, always watching, always invading, clouding, controlling, possessing, owning,, always trying to monopolize her whole being

,,,, that's how it starts, after all, he wants her, so he hold her down,, tells her she is going to take every bit of him,,, and when she simply does, he keeps doing it, he keeps doing it. without ever regretting it bc as long as he can choose he would always make her his.

[eyra]

I hope you’ll forgive my selfishness, but I am dying to ask: What did Remus think the first time he saw Sirius in Beneath a Big Blue Sky??

today is your lucky day. I've mentioned a few times that I've dabbled in the possibility of one day writing more bits and pieces in the Beneath a Big Blue Sky world. whether or not this will ever all see the light of day I'm not sure, but since you asked, I'll share a little snippet of Remus and Sirius meeting for the first time - from Remus's point of view.

enjoy 🐑🐑 x

“Mr Lupin, is it?”

Christ.

Remus nods slowly, shaking the other boy's hand. "If you like," he mutters. If I must be, he thinks. What a mess. What an absolute pain in the arse. "Two strong lads," Lyall had asked the agency for, and Remus knows because he was in the next room listening, and still smarting over the fact that his old dad wanted to hire help anyway. "We'll be reet," Remus had insisted, shaking out his left arm in proof that his shoulder was mostly healed, which it was. They would've managed: he still had his other arm, and all the ewes looked in good health so far, and bringing in two strangers to help run the season seemed like a fine waste of money to Remus and something they'd not done since he'd turned fifteen and proven that he was good and capable of handling just as much work as Lyall during the lambs, and he'd felt all kinds of embarrassed when Lyall had implied that this year he might need some help. As if he were now a problem to be solved, or somehow less of a man this year than he was last year, and certainly less than he ought to be.

But if they must get help - if Lyall must hire someone for a few months - then at the very least Remus had hoped that the workers who arrived would be up to the job. A couple of veterinary students, or something; someone who knew their way around a sheep, and it hadn't seemed too big an ask. As it is, the two boys standing dumbly in front of him on the station platform look less suited to farm work and more like they should be standing in a shop window somewhere, with their brand new boots and spotless, neatly-pressed cream trousers. Cream trousers, and all.

Remus remembers, one night in the late winter not long after the accident, being laid up in his bed in front of the fuzzy little television Hope had insisted on setting up in his room to keep him occupied during his recovery. It had a remote held together with Sellotape and a funny round aerial which didn't quite pick up the Freeview signal, and he'd been mindlessly flicking through the scant channels when he'd happened upon some reality programme or other; something about a load of toffs titting about London with daft haircuts and those cream trousers, and he wonders now if the two boys standing in front of him have seen the show, or realise how ridiculous they look.

Or at least, one of them looks ridiculous. The lanky one with the glasses and the palm that's far too smooth to have seen any real work in its life. He's still beaming down at Remus with a sort of manic smile, which sets Remus's teeth on edge - man looks insane - and then Remus lets his eyes slip away to the shorter boy standing next to him. And he's something else altogether. He's all cheekbones and soft, shoulder-length hair, the colour of Whitby jet, and it's tucked on the one side back behind his ear and then there's one pretty strand hanging loosely over his brow, and he's watching Remus uncertainly and when they make eye contact - when the noise of the four-by-four across the car park fades away to static, and the train on the platform huffs out a great cloud of smoke that Remus doesn't see - Remus feels his cheeks grow hot under his tan and something funny happens in his throat, and he thinks to himself: "Wow," and then, straightaway: "That’s bloody inconvenient."

They drive back to the farm in silence, mostly, and Remus swallows three times before asking the boy in the back seat for his name. Sirius, as it turns out; the dog star, and Remus suddenly recalls a night a decade ago when they'd been up on the fell and the air had been balmy and close and Lily had been reading out of that funny old book about the constellations. "What's that one?" Remus had muttered, pointing at a cluster of stars somewhere over the top paddock. Lily had yawned, and flicked over a few more pages. "Canis Major," she'd said around another yawn, and then: "That bright one's called Sirius, it says here," and Remus had squinted up at it, and frowned, and thought it was pretty good, as stars go. 

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩