#I can't explain it. But like it's not JUST using the nickname. An energy. An aura. A je ne sais quoi.

[liz-on-leash]

A Bad Friend

[Commissioned]

NewJeans Kang Haerin × Male Reader

Noncon, Drugged, Fingering, Facefuck, Squirting, Creampie

4,850 Words

The air was buzzing with energy as you strolled around inside the college party. The music thumped through the speakers, the bass pulsing in your chest. 

The room was alive with movement - bodies swaying, drinks sloshing, laughter and chatter filling the air. The dim lighting cast a warm, hazy glow over the scene, adding to the intoxicating atmosphere.

Amidst the chaos, you spot Haerin sitting alone in the lounge, her phone clutched in her hands. You can't help but notice how her pretty features are tinged with a hint of sadness. 

You know she's here because her boyfriend Jihoon invited her, but had to back out at the last minute. Poor thing, all alone at a party where everyone else seems to be having a grand time.

You make your way over to her, a friendly smile on your face. "Yah, Haerin-ah," you call out, drawing her attention. Her face lights up when she sees you, and you can't help but feel a surge of affection. After all, the two of you have been friends since high school.

Haerin's face brightens, her big eyes shining with relief. “Oh, yah…" she calls your nickname, a wide smile spreading across her pretty features. You return the smile as you plop down on the sofa next to her.

"What is a pretty princess doing all alone over here?" you ask, acting not to know the gist of the situation. "Where's your boyfriend?"

Haerin's smile falters slightly as she lets out a small pout. "Jihoon oppa had to leave for a family thing at the last minute," she explains. "Now I'm just waiting around to leave. I already told him I'd get a taxi, but he hasn't replied yet."

You nod sympathetically, placing a comforting hand on her arm. "Well, you don't have to wait around here all by yourself," you offer. "I can give you a ride home if you'd like."

You notice a flash of hesitation in her eyes before she quickly shakes her head. "No, it's okay," she insists. "I will just wait a little longer to see if Jihoon oppa replies. I don't want to put you out."

You know full well that Jihoon has probably warned Haerin to stay away from you. After all, you've never exactly been the model student - you've always been a bit of a troublemaker, much to Jihoon's apparent annoyance. 

You remember the smug little smirk on his face whenever he's with Haerin as if he's silently gloating over the fact that he got to "steal" her away from you - that only he manages to get in her pants. 

The thought of it irritates you, and you find yourself growing a bit more annoyed than usual before you are pulled from your reverie by Haerin's voice.

"You don't have to worry about me," she says with a smile. "Go have fun! I'll just wait here for a bit."

But you shake your head, returning her smile. "Nonsense, Haerin-ah, I'm your friend, of course, I'm going to keep you company." You stand up, gently squeezing her shoulder. "I will grab us a couple of drinks. Nothing too strong, I know, haha.”

Before she can protest, you turn and make your way towards the drink table. But instead of heading to the main bar, you veer off towards a small, more discreet-looking setup - the "special" booth, as it's known, that provides extra ingredients.

Haerin doesn't seem to suspect a thing as you return with two expertly crafted cocktails in hand.

Haerin flashes you a grateful smile as you return with the drinks. "Thank you so much for spending time with me," she says, taking the cocktail from your hand without a second thought.

As the two of you sip your drinks, you fall into an easy conversation, chatting about classes, professors, and the general chaos of college life. Haerin's cute laugh is music to your ears, and you notice the way her skirt rides up just slightly, exposing the smooth skin of her legs. 

Your gaze drifts to the small swell of her breasts beneath her shirt, and you feel your cock start to harden in anticipation.

Before long, Haerin's words begin to slur, her eyelids growing heavy. She doesn't seem to realize her state, continuing to prattle on as you nod and smile, your mind racing with wicked thoughts. 

Finally, her voice trails off as she loses consciousness, her head lolling forward.

Right on cue, Haerin's phone on the table lights up with a message from Jihoon, saying he will be there in 30 minutes. 

You scoff, cursing that smug bastard under your breath. Haerin is yours for the taking tonight - let's see how proud Jihoon can be after this.

You push aside your anger towards Jihoon, instead focusing your attention on your unconscious friend. You adjust Haerin's posture, guiding her head to rest against the backrest of the couch. 

Your fingers caress her soft cheeks, coaxing her lips into a delicate pout. "Such a pretty girl, about to get ruined." 

If only she had chosen a better man - for example, someone who didn't constantly get under your skin like Jihoon does. "Oh well," you sigh, "Time to have a taste of Kang Haerin." 

The couch is soft beneath Haerin's limp body, her once-vibrant frame now completely pliant and under your full control. You've been planning this moment for weeks, fantasizing about having your way with your friend, and now, with a little help from a potent sedative in her drink, she's at your mercy. 

Her long, slender legs, encased in sheer black stockings, dangle over the couch, twitching slightly as if in a dream. You smirk, knowing that soon, she'll be writhing in ecstasy, or so you hope.

Leaning closer, you inhale the sweet scent of her hair, a mix of vanilla and strawberries. Her breathing is slow and steady, a soft purr in her throat indicating she's deep under. You gently brush her jet-black locks away from her flawless porcelain face, exposing her delicate features. 

Her lips, usually so quick to challenge and tease, are now slightly parted, revealing a glimpse of her pink tongue. You can't resist running your thumb across her plump lower lip, savoring her warmth. She's so fucking beautiful, and tonight, she's all yours.

Your eyes travel down her body, taking in the sight of her perky breasts rising and falling gently beneath her simple branded white shirt. The fabric is already loosened, hinting at the treasures beneath. 

But you're not in a hurry. You want to savor every moment of this violation. Your fingers trace the outline of her nipples, now hard and straining against the thin material. Haerin stirs slightly, a soft moan escaping her lips, but she remains unconscious, a willing victim to your desires.

With slow, deliberate movements, you slide your hand down her flat stomach, the muscles tensing at your touch. Her belly button, a tiny indent, quivers as your fingers poke across it. Further down, your hand reaches the hem of her short skirt. Her pussy, your ultimate destination, awaits.

You lift her hips, bunching her skirt around her waist. Her legs, those long, luscious limbs, fall open, offering you a glimpse of her panties. The fabric is sheer, leaving little to the imagination. 

You can see the outline of her bald, swollen pussy lips, already glistening. The scent of her drugged arousal hits you like a punch, a musky, feminine odor that makes your head spin in delight. 

You waste no time ripping her panties aside, the sound of tearing fabric filling the lounge. Haerin's cunt is exposed, a pink slit that's already beginning to flower under your intense gaze. 

Her clit peeks out from its hood, a tiny pearl begging for attention. You chuckle softly, reaching out to pinch it between your thumb and forefinger.

"Time to wake up, sleeping beauty," you whisper, giving her clit a sharp tug.

Haerin's body jerks, her legs squeezing together as her eyelids flutter, but remain hazy. She tries to speak, but her words are slurred and incoherent.

"Shh, it's me," you soothe, not wanting her to resist. “I'm keeping you company while your boyfriend is gone, remember? And I'm going to make you feel so good."

Your fingers dive into her slit, easily sliding through her juices, coating them in her essence. She's so wet, so ready, despite her confused state. You curl your fingers, searching for her sweet spot, and find it rather quickly. 

Haerin's body arches off the couch, her legs shaking as she tries to escape the sudden onslaught of pleasure. "No... stop..." she mumbles, but it's clear she doesn't mean it.

You don't listen anyway. Instead, you thrust two fingers into her tight cunt, pumping them in and out, violating her drugged innocence. Her pussy is hot and unbelievably wet, gripping your fingers. You add a second finger, stretching her, feeling her inner walls clench around you.

"You like that, Haerin-ah? You like being fucked by my fingers while you're out cold?" you taunt, slamming your digits into her harder.

Her eyes roll back, and she whimpers, her body betraying her. You lean down, biting her neck, marking her as you continue to finger-fuck her mercilessly. Her cunt is making lewd squelching sounds, filling the air with the scent of her sex.

Withdrawing your fingers, you admire her gaping hole, then deliver a sharp slap to her pussy lips, leaving a red handprint on her pale skin.

"You're so wet for me. I had no idea you're such a slut. Maybe Jihoon never made you cum like this," you sneer, slapping her again, enjoying her whimpers.

Haerin's eyes focus on you, a mix of confusion and lust clouding her vision. She tries to push you away, but her drugged state leaves her weak. "I'm… Hnn…" she manages, her voice hoarse.

You laugh, grabbing her thighs, and forcing her legs apart again. "You'll be begging for more soon. I'm gonna make you cum so hard you'll forget his name."

Your fingers dive back into her, curling and twisting, finding that sweet spot again. Haerin's body goes rigid, her back arching off the couch as she whines, a high-pitched sound of pure ecstasy. Her pussy clamps down on your fingers, milking them as her orgasm rips through her.

“There you go, cum for me," you encourage, pounding her cunt with your hand.

Her canal spasms uncontrollably, soaking your hand as she rides out her climax. You keep working on her, determined to make her cum again. Haerin's body trembles, her legs shaking violently as she tries to push you away, but you're relentless.

"Please... stop... can't take more..." she begs, her voice weak.

Ignoring her pleas, you show no mercy, adding a third finger, stretching her to the limit. Her pussy is a mess, juices running down her thighs, but you don't care. You want to degrade her, own her in this moment.

Withdrawing your fingers, you lift them to your mouth, sucking her essence off, savoring her taste. Then, grabbing her head, you shove your fingers into her mouth, forcing her to taste herself.

"Lick them clean, you dirty girl," you command, holding her head still.

Haerin's hazy eyes are wide with shock, but she obeys, her pink tongue swirling around your fingers, cleaning them of her own juices. You grin, knowing you've marked her in more ways than one.

As you release her, Haerin collapses back onto the couch, her chest heaving, her body spent. You admire your handiwork, knowing you've given her an experience she will never forget. That is if she even remembers any of this at all.

Haerin's body lies beneath you, her awareness gradually returning to reveal the violation you've already inflicted. Her eyes, like pools of molten honey, weakly flicker open, revealing a haze of confusion and vulnerability that excites you to no end. 

With a smile, you straddle her delicate frame, positioning your throbbing erection directly in her line of sight, ensuring her quivering limbs are trapped between your powerful legs. Her chest rises and falls beneath you, the thin shirt now clinging to her sweat-soaked skin, outlining the rigid peaks of her nipples.

Haerin's breath catches, her body stiffening beneath your weight, as she becomes aware of the predator above her. You can almost taste her fear, a delicious appetizer to the main course you're about to serve. 

Her gaze locks onto your bulging crotch, her eyes widening as they take in the impressive length and girth of your cock, already straining free against the confines of your clothing.

"Open wide," you say, your voice dripping with lust as you grab a fistful of her silky hair, exposing her slender neck.

She tries to resist, a feeble attempt at rebellion, but her drugged state leaves her powerless against your strength. You yank her head towards your aching cock, making her whimper as her soft, pink lips part in anticipation. 

Her breath, hot and moist, washes over the sensitive head, causing it to throb and leak a thick bead of pre-cum.

"Come on, take it in," you coax, using her hair to guide her mouth onto your shaft.

Her lips touch the tip, hesitantly at first, then with more urgency as the taste of you excites her senses. Her mouth feels like a warm, wet glove as you push forward, inch by inch, stretching her lips around your thickness. 

A strangled moan escapes her, accompanied by a flood of drool that coats your shaft, making it glisten in the dim light. "Suck it, Haerin-ah," you command, your voice hoarse. "Show me how much you love my cock."

Her eyes, glazed with lust and confusion, meet yours as she reluctantly begins to move her head, taking you deeper into her mouth. The sensation is exquisite—her tongue, still groggy from the drug, clumsily caresses the underside of your cock, sending shocks of pleasure through your body.

You hold her head in a firm grip, controlling the pace as you start to face-fuck her with deliberate thrusts. Her eyes water, tears mixing with the drool that freely flows from her mouth, creating a wet, sloppy symphony as you plunge her mouth. The sound of her gagging and the sight of her struggling only serve to heighten your arousal.

"Look at me. Are you secretly a cock-craving whore, Kang Haerin?" you sneer, forcing her to maintain eye contact as you fuck her mouth with increasing ferocity.

Haerin's throat contracts around your shaft, her body's natural response to the invasion, and it sends a jolt of pleasure through your nerves. You thrust harder, her nose buried in your pubic bone, her breath hot and desperate against your balls.

With each thrust, you feel her resistance melting away, her mouth becoming a willing participant in this depraved act. Her tongue, now more alert, swirls and flicks, learning the contours of your cock, making you grit your teeth to hold back your release.

“Ohh, fuck… I'm going to feed you so much of my cum,” you groan, slamming into her mouth with abandon.

Her eyes roll back, her body trembling beneath you as she tries to process the overwhelming sensations. Her hands weakly push against your thighs, a futile attempt to create some distance, but you easily swat them away, holding her in place.

As you pound her mouth, her lips and throat provide a tight, wet sheath for your cock, massaging and sucking you with each withdrawal and penetration. The slurping, gagging sounds fill the room.

"Swallow it all, or I can make you wear it and parade you all around the venue," you threaten, your voice desperate with impending release.

With a final surge, you unleash a torrent of hot cum down her throat, holding her head in an iron grip as you empty your balls. Haerin chokes and sputters, her eyes bulging as she tries to swallow, but you keep her impaled, forcing her to take every thick rope of your seed down her stomach.

You feel her throat muscles working, massaging your sensitive cock as she struggles to accommodate your load. Finally, you release her, allowing her head to fall back, her mouth hanging open, glistening with the evidence of your pleasure.

Gasping for air, she stares up at you, her expression a mix of shame, pleasure, and disbelief. You admire the sight of her, knowing you've pushed her boundaries, marked her as your own. 

Adjusting your clothing, you shoot a final, possessive remark. “Remember this moment, Haerin-ah. Tonight, You're mine to fuck however I please."

Just as you're about to tuck yourself away, the sound of giggling and high-heeled footsteps approaches. Two women, clearly inebriated, stumble into the lounge, their eyes widening at the sight before them.

"Oh, shit! Are we interrupting something?" one of them slurs, her eyes flicking between Haerin's disheveled form and your half-exposed crotch.

You let out a bark of laughter, relishing the momentary confusion on their faces. "Not at all, ladies. Just having a bit of fun. Come on in, I was just finishing up anyway."

The taller of the two, a blonde with smudged makeup, raises an eyebrow. "Finishing up? Looks like the party's just getting started." She winks, taking a step closer, her gaze lingering on your brunette friend.

You'd love to stay and play, especially with Haerin's warm, cum-soaked body still waiting for  you, but you're aware of the ticking clock. Her boyfriend is on his way, and you have no intention of ruining your plan.

"Tempting as it is, I've got other plans for this one," you say, nodding towards Haerin. "But feel free to help yourselves to a drink."

With that, you scoop Haerin into your arms, her body limp and pliant, and gather her belongings. She mumbles incoherently, her eyes blinking as she tries to focus on your face.

"Where... what...?" she slurs, her voice hoarse from the rough face-fucking.

"We're going for a short ride, baby," you whisper, nuzzling her neck. "And then I'm gonna finish what I started."

You stride towards the door, Haerin's body cradled against your chest, her legs sagging, still bearing the marks of your fingers. The two women watch, mouths agape in a chuckle as you exit.

Outside, you gently deposit Haerin into the backseat of your car, arranging her skirt to provide a modicum of modesty. Her eyes drift shut again, her body surrendering to the drug's pull. You start the engine, a devious plan forming in your mind.

"Time to take this party somewhere more private, Haerin-ah," you mutter, pulling away from the curb.

The drive to your apartment is a blur of streetlights and growing lust. Haerin remains unconscious, her body swaying with the motion of the car. You can't wait to have her again, to mark every inch of her without the fear of interruption.

As you pull into the empty parking lot of your building, the excitement builds. You carry her up the stairs, relishing the weight of her in your arms, and unlock your door, stepping into the quiet sanctuary of your home.

Haerin's eyes flutter open momentarily as you lay her on your bed, the soft sheets welcoming her small body. She blinks, trying to focus, her lips forming a question.

Your gaze remains fixed on Haerin's body as you begin to undress, your cock already stirring back to life, eager for another round. You peel off your clothes, revealing your muscular frame, every inch of you focused on the beauty lying on your bed. 

Her eyes, slightly clearer, watch you with fear as she processes her surroundings. In one motion, you yank her skirt up, exposing her stocking-clad legs. 

The delicate fabric clings to her thighs, accentuating her slender limbs. You then tear the material away, leaving her stockings intact as a sexy contrast to her pale skin.

Haerin's breath quickens as you pull her body up to remove her shirt, her movements weak and uncoordinated. She blinks rapidly, trying to clear the haze from her mind. "No... please..." she whimpers, a feeble attempt at resistance.

You snatch her shirt and bra from her body in one swift motion, baring her perky breasts. Her nipples, already hard and erect, stand at attention, begging for attention.

"Relax, Haerin-ah," you whisper, your voice a low, menacing purr. "You're gonna beg for more after I'm done. Trust me."

She tries to push against your chest, but you easily overpower her, pinning her hands above her head, holding her in place. "Why are you doing this? We're friends..." she pleads, her voice cracking.

You lean down, your lips brushing against her ear. "Friends fuck, Haerin. And I've been wanting to fuck you for a long time. Especially now, to teach that asshole boyfriend of yours a lesson."

Her eyes widen at your words, a mix of anger and unwanted arousal flashing across her face. Before she can respond, you align your throbbing cock with her sticky slit, the tip already slick with her juices.

"No... please, not like this..." she begs, her voice breaking as you tease her entrance, not yet granting her the penetration her drunk body craves.

With one thrust, you bury yourself deep inside her, claiming her pussy in one stroke. Her eyes roll back, and she screams, the sound raw and primal. “Ohh God—!"

Her body trembles beneath you, her pussy gripping your shaft like a vice, milking you as her internal muscles spasm. You feel her heat, her wetness, enveloping you, welcoming you home.

"Scream harder for me," you grunt, pulling out almost entirely before slamming back into her, over and over, setting a brutal pace.

Haerin's cries fill the room, a mixture of pleasure and pain. "Oh God, oh God, please... it's too much..." she sobs, her body shaking with each violent thrust.

You show no mercy, pounding into her, your balls slapping against her ass with each retreat and advance. Her pussy is so tight, her walls massaging your cock, threatening to milk your load prematurely.

"You feel that, Haerin? My cock owning your pussy?" you grunt, reaching down to pinch her hard nipples, making her arch her back.

"Yes... oh yes... I feel it..." she cries, her voice hoarse. "It's... too much..."

You lean down, biting her neck, marking her as yours. "You're gonna take it all, every inch, and you're gonna beg for more," you promise, your voice a gravelly growl.

With each thrust, you go deeper, harder, your cock hitting her cervix, making her see stars. Her body is a mess of sensations, the drug intensifying every touch, every penetration.

"Please... I can't... I'm gonna..." Haerin's words trail off as her body tenses, her pussy clamping down on your cock as she's hit with a powerful orgasm.

You don't let up, continuing to pound her through her climax, determined to make her see stars again. Her screams echo in the room, a testament to the raw, animalistic sex unfolding on your bed.

As Haerin's resistance crumbles, you release her wrists, knowing she's now completely at your mercy. Instead, you grasp her hips, your fingers digging into her flesh, and lift her, angling her body to meet your relentless assault. She clutches the sheets beneath her, her knuckles turning white, as she screams, her voice raw and hoarse.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" she cries, her words becoming indistinguishable from the guttural sounds of pleasure and pain.

You watch her face, contorted in ecstasy, as you thrust into her roughly. Her eyes, wild and unfocused, stare up at you, pleading and inviting at the same time. Your cock, a rigid piston, disappears into her wet heat with each forward lunge, only to emerge slick and glistening before slamming back home.

The force of your thrusts lifts her body off the bed, her ass meeting your groin with a satisfying smack on each downstroke. You feel her inner walls, hot and slick, gripping and massaging your shaft, threatening to milk your cum prematurely. But you hold back, wanting to drive her to the brink of insanity.

Her pussy, now raw and swollen, stretches to accommodate your thickness, the lips molding around your girth, leaving a red, puffy outline as you withdraw. Her juices flow freely, coating your cock and balls, creating a lewd, glistening display.

"Please, stop, it hurts!" Haerin begs, her voice cracking. "Your cock... it's in my stomach... it hurts so much!"

You chuckle, withdrawing almost entirely before slamming back into her, making her body jerk. "Liar. You love it. You're just a dirty cum slut who can't get enough."

Her cries turn to incoherent moans as you lean down, your free hand pressing against her distended belly, adding a new layer of sensation to her already overstimulated body. Her orgasm, which had momentarily subsided, reignites with a vengeance.

"No... again... can't..." she whimpers, her legs stiffening, her body shaking as she's hit with another powerful climax.

You feel her pussy convulsing around your cock, trying to pull your seed from your balls. With each spasm, you thrust harder, driving her over the edge again and again.

Haerin's body goes rigid, her back arching off the bed, as she screams, her throat raw from her incessant cries. Her pussy clamps down on you, a grip that threatens to send you over the edge.

You violate her deeper, harder, your balls slapping against her swollen, sensitive lips, driving her to the brink of consciousness. Her tits, bouncing wildly with each impact, leave a trail of saliva and sweat as they sway with the rhythm of your pounding.

"Cum for me again, Haerin-ah," you demand, your voice a raspy command. "Let me feel that pussy squeeze my cock."

Haerin's body convulses, her orgasm ripping through her like an electric current, causing her to see stars. Her juices flow, adding to the wet, sloppy sounds of your fucking, as she surrenders to the pleasure you're inflicting upon her.

As your climax approaches, you feel the familiar tightening in your balls, the knot forming, signaling your impending release. Your thrusts become more deliberate, slower, as you savor the moment. 

Coincidentally, Haerin's phone starts ringing, its shrill tone cutting through the room. You see the caller—her boyfriend. An evil grin spreads across your face as you withdraw from her, leaving her pussy gaping, glistening with her juices.

Haerin, sensing a momentary respite, flips onto her stomach, her body trembling, as she tries to crawl away, her movements uncoordinated and weak. You chuckle, striding across the room to answer the phone.

"Jihoon sunbaenim? How's it going?" you answer, your voice laced with false formality.

Haerin, hearing her boyfriend's voice, freezes, her eyes wide with panic. You toss the phone onto the bed beside her, the screen lighting up her tear-streaked face. 

"He wants to talk, Haerin-ah. Go ahead, explain what you've been up to."

She shakes her head, her body trembling, as she tries to cover herself with the sheets. "Please... don't..." she begs, her voice vibrating.

Ignoring her pleas, you grab her by the waist, pulling her up onto all fours, her ass high in the air, presenting herself to you. She knows what's coming, her body betraying her as she begins to leak fresh juices, her pussy still swollen from your rough treatment.

"Looks like she's too busy to talk right now," you say into the phone, positioning yourself behind her. "But I'll be sure to pass on your regards."

With that, you plunge back into her, your thick cock stretching her well-used hole. Haerin screams, her hand flying to her mouth to muffle the sound, but it's no use. Jihoon's voice, now frantic, fills the room as he hears her cries.

You grip her hips, holding her in place, as you begin to pound into her from behind, your balls slapping against her clit. Her body is a canvas of pleasure and pain, her ass cheeks quivering with each impact.

"Fuck! Fuck! Oh God— No!" Haerin screams, her voice muffled by her hand, her body betraying her as she pushes back against your thrusts, meeting your rhythm.

You reach around, grabbing a fistful of her hair, and yank her head back, arching her body, exposing her neck. 

Her response is a guttural moan, her body going limp as she resigns to the sensations coursing through her veins. You feel her pussy clench around your cock, milking you as she's hit with another powerful orgasm.

With a throaty grunt, you unleash your load deep inside her, your cock pulsing as you fill her womb with your seed. Haerin screams, her body shaking, as she's forced over the edge once more, her juices flowing to mix with your cum.

You hold her in place, your cock twitching as you empty yourself into her, before pulling out with a loud, wet squelch. Haerin collapses, unconscious, her body spent and satisfied. 

You laugh, ending the call, and head to the kitchen, leaving her lying there, sated and vulnerable. As you pour yourself a drink, you can't help but chuckle, anticipating her reaction when she wakes up, the realization of what her trusted friend has done.

[greensagephase]

For Better or Worse - Part 2

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x Female!Reader Summary: Overwhelmed, you seek a moment of solitude on your sister's wedding day at the garden, but you can't even have that thanks to your sister's now brother-in-law, Miguel. Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: use of y/n; no name for your sister still (I think we're just going to go with a nickname); some cussing; alcohol consumption; pesky aunts and a divorced man offer unsolicited opinions; some Spanish but translations are provided in text; a bit of arguing; suggestive content, so MDNI, please!; reader is fluent in Spanish; I think that's all A/N: hiiii, finally updating this after two months 🫠 But anyway, I just wanted to give a big thank you to @lauraolar14 for the amazing fanart she made from part 1!! Found here ! Thank you, Lara!! 🥰 Pls go and support her!! Masterlist | Spotify Previous Part

You down a glass with water and place it on a tray just as a waiter offers you another drink. You politely decline before letting your gaze wander around the elegant venue your sister and Gabriel chose for the reception, thinking how it’s truly beautiful and perfect for the wedding they both envisioned.

Your eyes eventually land on the newlyweds as they dance, a smile tugging at your lips. They’ve been dancing nonstop since their first dance, which means their feet will likely be sore tomorrow. However, by tomorrow afternoon they should be in their honeymoon destination, relaxing from the last couple of days of last minute wedding shenanigans and basking in their newlywed energy.

“Aww, sweetie,” someone says, ripping your attention from your sister and now brother-in-law. It’s one of your aunts. You offer a polite smile as she approaches, your gut warning you about her intentions. “Look at you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Look at me…?” you state but it sounds more like a question.

“This must be so hard for you,” your aunt says, taking your arm and holding it, with a sad tone that matches the frown on her face.

You hold back from sighing in annoyance, recognizing where this is going. You’ve heard it twice already from two other aunts.

“Not really. I know she’s the baby of the family, but well, we all grow up, right?” you reply, forcing a smile. You hope your words will deter your aunt from explaining what she truly means, but unfortunately for you, it doesn’t.

“Aw, not that, sweetie. I mean, yes, but I was referring to how hard it must be for you as the eldest. Seeing your younger sister get married before you - it must be so hard. You should’ve been married by now, maybe with a little toddler at your side. Instead, you’ve found yourself witnessing your younger sister marry first, and who knows, maybe pregnant in a few months, but cheer up, sweetie. Don’t let this make you feel less, okay? Sometimes… Not everyone has the pleasure of marrying and experiencing motherhood, but that’s alright. I’m sure you have other… things that bring happiness to you, like… your job?” your aunt says, giving your arm what she thinks is a reassuring squeeze, but is rather an uncomfortable one. On top of that, she’s delivering another jab at you she doesn’t even know she’s making. “I’m sure that brings a lot of satisfaction to you.”

“Thank you for your kind words,” you force yourself to say with a fake smile that seems to go past your aunt. You silently pray she leaves you alone and that this is the last time you have to hear the same “comforting” and “reassuring” words for the night. You hope so, or you’ll slap someone. Mentally, of course. You’d never cause any kind of commotion publicly, much less at your sister’s wedding when you care so deeply about her and Gabriel. Besides, that’d give the people a field day and fill their minds with thoughts of you being “jealous” or “resentful” about your sister marrying before you.

Thankfully, your aunt leaves, off to offer more unsolicited advice and words of comfort, probably.

“Mierda [shit],” you sigh just as you hear a man somewhere behind you.

“Ah, Miguel! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. Working all the time, huh?”

Subtly, you glance behind you at the man’s words. You didn’t even know Miguel was nearby, but now knowing he is, you wonder if he heard your aunt. You hope he didn’t as the last thing you want is Miguel to think you were looking at the newlyweds with jealously and that that was the reason your aunt felt the need to provide those “reassuring” words.

“Yes, yes. I stay busy working,” you hear Miguel reply.

“Good for you. And you’re still single?” the man asks.

“Si. No tengo pareja [Yes. I don’t have a partner],” Miguel replies, a hint of humor in his tone.

“That’s good, that’s good! No plans of marriage in sight for you. It’s better that way. You can spend your money how you want to, no children involved, no woman bothering you about grand gestures, or making you spend money. Enjoy your youth, have your fun. Maybe later on, you can settle down.”

You continue to watch the people on the dance floor, but you can’t help but scoff to yourself at the difference.

Your aunt was just pitying you about not being married and having children, but Miguel is being celebrated for the same thing by this man when he’s a few years older than you. You grab a glass from a waiter’s tray, thanking him. “I need one, or two after the crap I’m hearing,” you murmur to yourself as he walks away.

“You think so?” Miguel asks. “At my age, people think I ought to be married. Maybe with a kid or two.”

“No, no. Trust me, it’s better. That’s why I divorced.”

“I thought it was your wife who divorced you,” Miguel says gently. Despite the gentleness, Miguel’s words tear down the man’s attempt to make it seem like he had been the one to make the decision, and had you been watching Miguel, you would’ve noticed his raised brow to go along with it.

“Ah - well. Yes… But who cares? I’m divorced and free. I’m doing better than I was.” The man laughs. “I’m doing so, so, so great...” he says trailing off before chugging down some alcohol, a sign of a man who is most definitely doing great.

You roll your eyes. God bless that woman, she made the right choice divorcing the idiot behind you.

“Yeah, well…” you hear Miguel start. “I guess marriage is not for everyone. I’m not going to say it’s not for me, though. Who knows? Maybe one day a woman catches my attention.”

“You’ll be a miserable man, trust me. Don’t let any woman lure you into the marriage trap. You’re too young. Enjoy your youth. Go on dates. Have fun, if you know what I mean,” the man says, using a tone that leaves no doubt about what he’s referring to.

You decide you’ve heard enough, so you walk away, glass in hand. You glance at your sister and Gabriel from the sidelines of the dance floor, still dancing and lost in their own little and magical bubble. The sight brings a smile to your face once more before you turn, seeking a moment to yourself.

You step out of the venue, sighing deeply as you walk into a garden area where photos were taken earlier in the day. You briefly recall the photo session and how you were forced to take some photographs with the groom’s best man, who looked equally displeased to stand next to you, the maid of honor. You stood next to each other, stiff as surf boards and hands clasped in front of you with the most serious faces.

“This is the most scoffs, eye rolls, and scowls I’ve ever seen in a photo shoot. C’mon, guys! You’re the maid of honor and the best man. And -” Arturo, the cameraman, paused, walking closer. “Respective eldest siblings to the bride and groom. You should be acting like - a family. Here, let’s just move a little closer,” he said, finding it easier to move you instead of Miguel, and moving you closer to him.

You stiffened even more at that and Miguel scoffed at the way you were acting, like he had some incurable disease.

“You, too, señor [sir]. Please step closer,” Arturo gently demanded.

That earned Arturo a scoff and a glare.

“Yeah, O’Hara. Move closer and stop wasting time,” you added, innocently.

“Thank you, señorita [miss],” Arturo replied happily, believing he had at least turned your attitude around when in reality, you were simply taking the opportunity to poke fun at Miguel. It was the only way to make the photo session bearable.

With an eye roll, Miguel stepped closer until his arm brushed against yours. “Better?” he said through gritted teeth.

“Better,” Arturo confirmed. “Though…” he trailed off, frowning.

“You look like a three-day old piece of bolillo [savory bread in MX + other Latin countries],” you said all too seriously. “Stiff.”

Arturo, bless his heart, turned away and attempted to hide his shock.

With a poker face, you turned to look at Miguel and found a scowl, his eyes on you already.

“A three-day old piece of bolillo?” he repeated, annoyance dripping from his mouth. “And what are you? A fresh, sweet, soft piece of cortadillo [a kind of pan dulce; Mexican pastry], I suppose?”

You snorted at that. “I’m flattered you think of me like that. Cortadillo is so good,” you replied, smirking softly.

“Dios mio [my God], I’m just trying to do my job and those two are talking about pan dulce [Mexican pastries],” Arturo complained from somewhere, thinking he was quiet enough that he wasn’t going to be heard, but he was.

Miguel and you stared at each other as the cameraman’s words of frustration rang in your heads. You held each other’s gazes and as much as you both wanted to keep the glares and scowls, Arturo made both of you smile and then burst into quiet laughter.

In the end, Arturo got his opportunity with that moment of laughter and managed to capture the best man and maid of honor smiling in each other’s presence before you both ran off to get other duties done once the photographs were done.

You shake your head from the memory and look up at the garden lights hanging over you, giving the area a whimsical look, before you walk further away from the door and into a less well-lit area.

You sigh deeply again, something you’ve found yourself doing too much lately. The comments from your pesky aunts and the conversation you overheard have caused you some irritation, but it’s not just that. You’ve been trying to ignore a problem that’s been weighting on you all day. You’ve tried not to let it dampen your mood, today being your sister’s wedding, and you had succeeded until now. On a normal day, those conversations with your aunts and the man’s words to Miguel would’ve mattered little to you, but with the big issue in your life right now, they’ve managed to put you in a bad mood.

The big issue?

You were forced to resign from your job two days ago, leaving you unemployed.

It wasn’t anything that you did, but rather what you refused to do that led to the decision. You grimace in disgust just thinking about it all over again. You started working at the company two years ago and everything was great with you rising up the ranks quickly due to your hard work and determination, but as you rose higher and higher, you were warned.

You were told to be cautious of your boss and his wandering hands. You did your best to avoid him on your own and always kept a professional attitude to set clear boundaries. Foolishly, you thought you were safe with two years in and no impropriety on your boss’s side, but you were wrong.

Two days ago, he cornered you in his office to make his move. Of course, you made it known you weren’t interested nor willing to do anything beyond what is professional. Even when you were promised a promotion if you “played” the game, you refused - something that angered your boss. Apparently, the disgusting man believed you’d accept his advances. Despite taking it to HR, nothing was done because of the position and status your boss holds within the company. You knew then that you needed to leave the company, so you did.

You don’t regret it. You’ll never give yourself away like that to some disgusting and horrible man, even if you’re unemployed now.

However, you don’t look forward to job searching and all that it entails. Thinking about it makes you feel stressed and even some anxiety. Then, there’s also the words from your ex-boss, his promise to make it hard for you to find a job within your field.

You wonder. Surely he doesn’t have that much power, right?

You hope not.

You down the rest of the drink, briefly thinking about how you should probably stop drinking by now, but the unexpected change, one you’re carrying on your own because you refused to tell your family about it with the wedding coming up, is weighing heavily on you now.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear the door open, follow by footsteps. You recognize it’s not a woman’s, at least you don’t think so since there’s no sounds of heels, but either way, you can’t help but feel annoyed that someone has stepped out and taken your small moment of solitude. You just wanted a moment to yourself, but it seems that whoever stepped out, decided otherwise.

“Ah, you’re here, too?”

Rolling your eyes, you turn to face Miguel O’Hara. Of course, it had to be him of all people.

Miguel stands a few feet from the door, hands inside the pockets of his perfectly tailored pants while staring at you. For some reason, your annoyance grows at the way it hugs him in what women would say the “right way,” which you’re certain many women did comment on tonight, considering you caught many staring at him like he’s a piece of candy. You’re sure many are probably having little fantasies of him now; recalling how tall he is for a Mexican man, his wide shoulders only enhanced by his suit jacket, and the way his hair frames his chiseled face so well like God himself styled it for him.

And if they shook his hand, they may be thinking about how large and warm it was, how it felt against their own.

There may even be some women imagining making their parents suegros [parents-in-laws] and planning some elaborate wedding in their heads, thinking the bride today will be like a sister to them.

“Yes,” you simply reply, turning away again and making it known you don’t wish to talk. He can stay over there, on his own little spot, and let you be over here, unbothered.

“Needed some fresh air?”

Great.

“Yes.”

Miguel snorts, decreasing the distance between you. He’s still not in your space, but he’s significantly closer now. “One-word answers. You must be having a night.”

You don’t reply. Maybe if you don’t he’ll go back inside, but with your luck recently, doubtful.

“Did the comments from your aunts get to you?” he asks suddenly when you say nothing else.

“What comments?”

“You know very well which ones. I happened to be there, you know. When the first aunt went over, the second one, and then, the third and last one.”

You scoff. “Didn’t know you were a chismoso [gossiper; masculine noun].”

Miguel snorts again. “It’s not my fault they talk so loudly and I happened to be there.”

True on the talking too loud, but you still wish he hadn’t heard, just like you wish you hadn’t heard him being celebrated for the same things you were being pitied on.

“Right, and are you here to offer words of comfort, too?” you reply in a snappy tone. “Or, are you out here to celebrate how you were recommended to stay clear from commitment by your friend?”

Miguel scoffs. You really think he’s that kind of man?

“If you heard the conversation, surely you heard what I said,” he replies defensively turning his body to face you now. “I don’t agree with that mindset.”

“You know -” you step back and pinch the bridge of your nose for a second. “I don’t care. Can you just - leave me alone?” you snap, stepping away. You don’t care about the topic anyway, it’s not the reason why you’re truly upset. Miguel O’Hara can do whatever he wants with his life and your aunts can nag and pity you, you don’t care. What you care about is the fact you lost your job the way you did and that now you’re unemployed.

“No,” Miguel says, upset. “I’m not. You seem to think you have me all figured out, don’t you? Just because we’ve never been two to get along. I’m not that kind of man.”

“I don’t care what kind of man you are. This isn’t about you.”

Miguel steps forward, his body brushing against your arm making you turn to face him, too. You glare at him.

“This isn’t about me, but I’m receiving the brunt of your anger.”

“I’m not angry about what you think I am, alright? I could care less what my aunts said, what that man said to you, though it’s unfair, but it’s not what’s on my mind. So, do me a favor and drop it. Leave me alone. You’re not the center of my world,” you reply with a scoff before turning away from him.

“What a shame,” Miguel murmurs following you. He grabs your arm and pulls you back, his hand wrapping around your flesh with enough force to keep you still without hurting you. “¿Que te pasa [what’s the matter]? Why are you so upset if it’s not that, then?”

You tug at your arm, a fruitless attempt to free yourself since Miguel doesn’t let go.

“Answer the question,” he demands, those deep brown eyes looking straight at you.

“It’s none of your business,” you answer, still glaring at Miguel.

He scoffs, holding your gaze as you look at him like he’s the most disgusting thing your eyes could ever lay upon.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he mumbles, his grip tightening around your arm slightly, tugging you closer to him. With narrowed eyes, he holds your gaze for a few seconds before images of your lips flash in his mind from the dance lessons.

He had never been that close to you before, never held nor touched you.

Miguel had never noticed the way your eyelashes framed your eyes, the shape of your lips, nor had he ever noticed your scent, a mixture of your very own essence and perfume. It’s the kind of scent that makes a man weak in the knees and wish for a closer inhale. No, Miguel had never noticed those things about you and it was to his great annoyance that not only had he noted them, but that those details had also made him feel weird afterwards.

Miguel felt so off that he had to make up the excuse about having a call to make. In reality, all he did was step out and take some fresh air, his mind boggled with the entire situation from the comments the dance instructor made about the two of you being in love and sharing passion to his little stunt after your two left feet comment and your payback, which left an ache on his foot, to the details he had never noticed about you. His mind was boggled and yet, you were the same as always with him; annoyed by, distant from, and uninterested in him.

And for some reason, it bothered him that day.

When he went back inside, he found you on the other side of the dance studio, looking closely at the couple and offering some advice to help them, ignoring his presence. Even when the four of you met up at the parking lot once again after the dance lesson, your attitude was the same. Your sister and Gabriel asked if either of you were interesting in grabbing something to eat, but you declined so fast and stated you had other things to do before the wedding, “maid of honor duties” you called them.

He watched with a scowl as you got in your car and left, only having said bye to the couple while barely giving him a glance of acknowledgement despite the conversation you had just had about making things work for the sake of your sister and Gabriel.

Of course, Miguel declined the invitation, too. He was in no mood to be third wheeling and he did have some things to do for work, so he, too, left with thoughts of your annoying self on his mind.

He eventually placated his thoughts with work, including dealing with his team and the fact that his current assistant put in their four weeks. Thankfully, he still has some time left before his assistant leaves, which he hopes is enough time to find someone to fill in the position. Either way, his work helped him set his thoughts about you aside that day.

Now, Miguel pushes past his thoughts and focuses on you, still holding your arm.

“And what of it?” you reply to his comment about you being a brat, still glaring at him so fiercely and angrily about whatever you’re upset about, proving Miguel you can be such a brat sometimes.

For two seconds Miguel has a thought - bending you over his knee and teaching you a lesson to tame that bratty attitude of yours. Then, his brain betrays him and he imagines what you’d sound like if he did. Would you still be a little brat when his heavy palm makes contact with your rear, or would you whimper and -

“You’re so upset,” Miguel says in an almost breathless way, his mind blanking for a second. “If it’s not your aunts’ comments, then what is it? It must be something of importance, if it has you like this on your sister’s wedding day,” Miguel adds, trying to focus on the moment at hand and not on whatever the hell his brain is going on about. He decides, quickly, that he’s probably had a few too many tequila shots. That’s probably why his brain is acting up. Surely.

“As I said earlier, it’s none of your business,” you reply, once again trying to free your arm, but to no avail. The giant man has you rooted to his side.

“Bullshit,” Miguel replies. His brother married into your family and your sister into his, that makes the two of you something now, doesn’t it? You’re tied for life now, for better or worse, in this way thanks to your siblings. And, the two of you did agree to get along for their sake.

“No te metas en lo que no te importa [don’t get involved in what doesn’t bother you],” you snap. “Mind your business. We may have agreed to be civil, but that doesn’t mean we’ll be besties.”

“As if, princesita [little princess],” Miguel responds with a scoff. “I wouldn’t be able to take your little attitude for two hours, even if I was paid, much less be ‘besties’ with you.”

“We have that in common, at least. I wouldn’t spend a day with you, even for a million dollars,” you reply, even though you could really use a million dollars, especially now.

Miguel smirks, amused by your response, and pulls you closer. “Not even if I paid you two million?”

“Not even five.”

Lies, lies, lies. You wouldn’t be worrying about being unemployed if you had even just one million dollars in the bank right now.

Miguel shrugs. “Maybe it’s too little, they’re little numbers after all,” he replies with a cocky smirk, for some reason bragging about his wealth to you now, something he’s never done before to anyone, but then again, his brain is not working accordingly right now.

Scoffing, you roll your eyes. You know Miguel is a CEO for a company you’ve never bothered to learn the name of, so you’re not surprised he has money, but saying five million dollars is “too little” is aggravating, and kind of shocking.

“Whatever, let go of me. Now,” you demand.

Miguel now scoffs at your demanding tone as if he couldn’t easily throw you over his shoulder and carry you off, or pin you against a wall.

“¿Qué tal si te digo que no? ¿Qué vas a hacer entonces, princesita? [What if I tell you no? What are you doing then, princess?]” Miguel replies, pulling you closer, so much closer his expensive cologne surrounds you.

You breathe it in, subtly of course. It’s rich, warm, and woody mixed in with his own scent. It’s the kind that sends a pool of warmth to your very core if allowed to inhale straight from a man’s neck with your nose pressed to his sensitive and warm flesh. You freeze for a second, the very thought almost makes you grimace, the fact that you’ve thought of such thing with Miguel of all men.

“You’re gonna slam your foot on mine again like the other day?” he asks mockingly, bringing you back to your senses.

“And mess your pretty, expensive shoes?”

Miguel snorts. “I can easily replace them.”

“So, you want me to slam my foot on yours? Is that what you’re saying?” you reply, raising an eyebrow.

Miguel grins, leaning closer, so much closer. He continues to hold your gaze, holding you still.

You scoff, your gaze unwavering.

You’re such a little brat, Miguel thinks again, his hand tightening around your arm just a tad more.

“What? Can’t make up your mind now?” you ask with a smug smile.

He scowls, pulling you so much closer. Your breath fans his face and he finds himself growing still when he feels it against lips especially. He swallows deeply while holding your gaze, your scent filling his nostrils and making him lean almost instinctively.

“You can ruin the shoes, I’ll simply buy new ones. I’ll even get you some pretty heels for your trouble. ¿Trato [Deal]?” he asks quietly, his gaze flickering to your lips for a second.

And God, maybe it really is all the drinks you’ve both had tonight because you lean closer, too.

Suddenly, it feels like two rocks rubbing against each other, a spark of fire made beneath the moonlight.

“¿Que pasa [What’s wrong]? Cat got your tongue?” Miguel whispers with a smirk.

“No. I was just thinking about the color I'd like the heels,” you reply, sarcastically.

“Ah, the color. Don't worry, you can choose whatever color you like. Whatever brand. Saint Laurent, Burberry, Gucci…”

You snort. “Didn't know you were so giving, O’Hara.”

“You don't know me” Miguel replies, tilting his head a little.

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a smirk that makes Miguel's heart skip a beat. He leans slightly closer, further decreasing the distance between your faces.

“I’m a man that likes to give - to provide,” Miguel continues, his hand tightening around your arm, his gaze flickering to your lips once more.

“Ah, interesting. You're the tree that keeps on giving, hm?”

“Such a smartass,” Miguel mumbles, eyes narrowing and meeting yours again. “One of these days that mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble.”

“I can't wait,” you reply defiantly.

Miguel scowls, your little defiance stirring something in him once more. He huffs, eyes moving to your lips yet again, not thinking straight. All he’s suddenly thinking about is closing the distance and shutting your mouth - with his own. He thinks about his mouth pressed against yours, about slipping his tongue in and swirling it around yours to taste you, to make you whine.

Meanwhile, you look at him, noticing his gaze on your lower face. You find yourself doing the same, your eyes landing on his full lips specifically. You silently wonder, despite yourself, what they’d feel like against yours and against your skin. The thought creates a fluttering feeling inside your chest, one that Miguel shares.

His heart races, his mind clouded with these strange thoughts. Miguel thinks about leaning in all the way and doing it, kissing you once and for all to satisfy a hunger and craving he’s suddenly overwhelmed with.

And he would've, if only the door leading to the garden hadn’t suddenly swung open before you both register voices.

You both pull away instantly, staring at each other like two deer caught in headlights. The realization hits the two of you like a ton of feathers at once, the truth echoing in your heads over and over again.

You were going to kiss.

You were going to kiss.

You were going to kiss.

The only thing that breaks Miguel and you from your shock are the sudden intimate noises, tearing your gazes from each other to see what’s the matter. It’s then that you both see a couple making out against the wall, totally unaware that Miguel and you are there due to the poor lighting.

Seeing the intimacy and hearing their noises of passion is all you need before you walk past Miguel, fleeing the garden area wordlessly to pull yourself together.

Miguel doesn’t try to stop you, not even when you brush past him. He stands there for a second or two before he, too, walks off in the opposite direction, hands clenched.

It’s not until you find yourself utterly alone once more that you stop walking. You stare at the ground, your heart racing while your mind plays the last few minutes over and over again. It makes no sense. There’s no way Miguel was about to kiss you, right? You huff in frustration and begin to pace back and forth, one hand clenched tightly around the glass you brought out with you as you try to make sense of the situation.

“Alcohol,” you say quickly to yourself, nodding. “Too much alcohol. It makes people do stupid things.” You nod once more, slowly calming yourself as you repeat this in your head.

At last, you stop pacing when you find reason for that near mistake.

Alcohol, which messes with your brain. Nothing more.

“Hey!”

Startled, you jump and let out a small gasp before turning. You find your mom, happily smiling.

“Come on! What are you doing out here all alone, mija [my daughter]?”

“Just - taking some fresh air,” you answer, walking over to her.

“Your sister and Gabrielito are about to cut the cake. They were wondering where you were,” your mom informs you, offering her arm to you.

You smile and accept your mom’s arm, embracing her comforting presence as you both head back inside the party.

“They were also looking for Miguel. You haven’t seen him, have you?” your mom asks, nearly making you trip.

“N - No, I haven’t,” you lie, clearing your throat and checking your shoe to pretend something is wrong with it to make up for you nearly tripping. “He’s probably talking with the men. They all seem like big fans of him.”

Your mom smiles, nodding. She hums softly as you both enter the venue again, the kind of hum that only moms can muster when they know something you don’t.

“I’m sure Miguelito is somewhere around here. Maybe he needed some fresh air, too,” your mom continues, patting your forearm as you fully enter the reception room now. “Let’s go get some cake.”

After eating cake and making toasts with your family and the guests, you stick near your parents’ side for the rest of the night, as a distraction to forget what almost happened earlier, until it’s time to see your sister and Gabriel off. You watch next to your parents as the newlyweds walk out of the venue, saying bye to the guests and other family members until it’s the immediate families’ turn at the end.

You hug your sister and Gabriel goodbye when it’s your turn, wishing them a great time and congratulating them yet again.

At last, the couple makes it to the car and gets settled. You smile softly as they wave goodbye one more time before the car departs. Watching the car grow smaller and smaller, the realization that your baby sister is married dawns on you. In the blink of an eye, she grew up and turned into a wonderful young woman. You briefly recall when she was a little girl, when she used to follow you everywhere because she wanted to do everything with you. And now, she’s all grown up and starting a new life with the love of her life.

A few feet away from you, Miguel does the same with a thoughtful expression on his face. He can’t believe Gabriel is now a married man, that he’s all grown up. He sighs, wondering where time went before he turns sideways, finding you staring in the direction of the car. He has no doubt you’re having similar thoughts like his, the two of you being the eldest siblings.

Sensing someone’s gaze, you turn, only to meet Miguel’s eyes. You stare at each other for a few seconds, the moment at the garden flashing through your minds like the highlights of a video with one particular part in replay: that moment when Miguel leaned forward and his gaze fell on your lips before you allowed yourself the same with his.

Your senses, both Miguel’s and yours, are overwhelmed in seconds. You easily recall each other’s scents, the warmth from your bodies, and the angry energy that slowly turned into something different due to the shoe talk before you fell into whatever that was at the end.

You blink at last and swallow deeply, pushing the memory away. You scoff at yourself, still holding Miguel’s gaze.

Damn alcohol and the things it makes you do and feel. Right?

You finally look away and walk off to meet your parents, not sparing Miguel another glance.

Miguel’s eyes follow you until you disappear from his sight. He runs a hand through his hair with a sigh, frustrated. He doesn’t even know if it’s at you or himself, or both. Or, maybe he’s just exhausted form the wedding planning and the actual wedding activities.

He doesn’t know anymore, just like he doesn’t know what he was thinking back at the garden. He turns away and scowls at himself. Okay, fine. He knew exactly what he was thinking: kissing and tasting you.

“Miguel-”

“What?” Miguel snaps, turning. He clears his throat when he finds Daniel, the man from earlier who was boasting about being divorced and advising Miguel to stay single for a while longer. He sighs and shakes his head. “Forgive me, Daniel. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s alright. You’re probably tired from the wedding. These things are always exhausting. I was just going to ask if you are interested in joining me and some of the other guys to a bar. It’s still early,” Daniel says before three other young men reach them.

Knowing the men, Miguel knows what kind of night they hope to have; one with no attachments but filled with carnal pleasure.

Miguel shakes his head. “Thank you for the invitation, but I’m too tired. And besides, I still have to wrap up some things here regarding the venue. You guys have fun.”

The other men boo him and one even dares to call him “old fashioned” since they know Miguel isn’t interested in those type of nights with strangers. They eventually walk away, leaving Miguel alone once more. He shakes his head as he sees them pull out of the parking lot before fishing for his own car keys inside his pockets.

The truth is, Miguel has no tasks related to the venue left. A cleaning crew was hired to take care of everything so neither families would have to worry about it. The food situation was handled and the gifts have been collected to be stored for now until the couple comes back from their honeymoon.

All Miguel needs to do is wish everyone a good night and head home. That’s it. Yet… His thoughts are a storm and you’re at the center of it, the culprit.

His gaze, despite himself, searches for you. He finally spots you several feet away talking with a man, one he doesn’t know personally. Miguel watches the interaction, noticing the closeness and the way you seem at ease with the individual. Hell, you’re even laughing at something the man says.

He looks away when the man places a hand on your forearm while talking, opting to gaze at the venue’s front gardens with trimmed bushes and perfectly aligned flowers.

Miguel suddenly realizes it. He’s stalling, but why? He turns to look your way again, discreetly, and the need to talk to you suddenly hits him. He needs to talk to you about what almost happened at the garden earlier. So, Miguel takes a few steps your way.

As he approaches you, he’s unsure of what he’d even say. I’m sorry for almost kissing you? Miguel cringes internally. Should he even bring it up? Talking about it makes it more real. It means acknowledging that that almost happened between you along with admitting some level of vulnerability, something neither of you have ever shared with each other.

He suddenly finds himself standing next to you and the man, his large strides making the walk a short one. The man stops talking and looks over at him, a look of confusion at Miguel’s sudden appearance. On the other hand, to Miguel’s annoyance, you give him a look of nonchalance.

“Excuse me,” Miguel starts, acknowledging the man. “I’m sorry for interrupting, but I need a word with Ms. Y/N.”

The man nods, looking somewhat disappointed. “I see. I’ll give you two a moment,” the man says despite you beginning to protest.

You watch the man, a son of one of your dad’s friends from work, walk away. Slowly, you turn to face Miguel, keeping a neutral expression. “Yes?”

“We need to talk about what happened,” Miguel says quietly, meeting your gaze.

“What happened?” you reply, raising an eyebrow.

Miguel scoffs, his eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t give me that attitude.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“At the garden,” Miguel continues through gritted teeth in disbelief at your nonchalance.

You hum, tilting your head. “Nothing happened,” you respond.

“Are you kiddi-” Miguel starts but stops, his frustration mounting. He lowers his voice. “Don’t play stupid with me, princesita [little princess]. We both know you’re far from it.”

“You know what I know?” you ask quietly. “There’s nothing to discuss. Don’t make a storm in a glass of water, okay?” With that, you walk around him.

“Where do you think you’re going? We’re not done talking,” Miguel replies, following you.

“As far as I’m concern, we have nothing to talk about. So, I’ll see you around, Mr. O’Hara,” you say, ending the conversation as you head to your car.

“Dammit,” Miguel murmurs, still following you.

You quickly unlock your car and get inside, slamming the door close. You start the car even when you see Miguel standing next to it, trying to talk to you. Sighing, you consider rolling your window down for a few seconds to let him talk, but at the same time you don’t wish to hear him out. A part of you knows that talking about what nearly happened will make it feel important when it’s not. Or, at least you’ve made yourself believe it’s not.

You shift the car’s gear, ready to drive off, but at the last second, you roll your window down. Facing forward and with your foot on the brake, you speak. “We’ve both had drinks. Alcohol makes people do things that they wouldn’t do when they’re fully sober, even with a little bit in their system. There’s nothing to discuss nor explain. Nothing happened and that’s what matters. I’m certainly not making a big deal out of it, nor have I been offended by what nearly happened, so if that’s what you’re trying to do - apologize - save it. Have a good night,” you state firmly before driving off, leaving a frustrated Miguel in the parking lot.

Through your rear view mirror, you look at him one more time. You find him watching you drive off, his arms at his sides in a stance that lets you detect his frustration clearly. At last, you look away, certain you’ve handled the situation accordingly.

A/N: Hiii, I'm sorry for how long it took me to update, but life got crazy in August due to a family member's death and then sickness. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed part 2! When I wrote part 1, I wasn't planning on this being a multiple parts fic, but with writing part 2, I guess I am now.

I'm unsure of how long this will be. Tbh, I'm hoping for it to be short 😭🙏🏼 Like, 10 chapters or so? Maybe less. I need to sit down and plan accordingly! As you can probably guess, this will transition into a CEO!Miguel x Assistant!female reader who are also now connected because of your sister and Gabriel, so I'm just letting you guys know the forced proximity will increase! 🙂‍↕️

Thank you for reading, and I hope you're having a great day/night!!

Alondra❤️

p.s. I have attached my side Spotify account in case you guys are interested in keeping up with the music I listened to while writing this chapter.

for the people that asked me to notify them for part 2: @vera4luv @safixiovi

[chiipay]

What if shidou was having a very bad day and the only thing he wanted was to stay in our presence or touch us in anyway

Just by seeing us, his nerves are calm? I don’t really know how to explain it

Uwohhh.. shidou request that's a first. I'm happy to know people do like him. I'll do my best to match his uhh vibe?.. idk

--

Ughhh it's happening again isn't it?

It's a shidou disaster. Is what you called it.

It's very very VERY normal to see another bickering shidou with another person. But DAMN it's too early for another fight he picked.

”...sorry about that, dude. I swear he normally wouldn't budge anyone at this hour-” you slightly bow in front of the French's stratum master, Julian Loki.

He's very polite and well-mannered for a guy...too good for a guy.

” it's fine. I'm surprised he suddenly acts like this at 3am..” he chuckled gorgeously- AHEM AHEM.

” shidou is in the training field. The Victor looking guy told us to locked him up there for a bit while waiting for you.” Charles Chevalier chipped in the conversation from behind making you shudder.

” oh- i see. Well if you excuse me, I'll be going now...to deal with the so-called demon.” you smile nervously before vanishing into the thin air.

As the small presence of you lingering around the hall, both the French duo look at your way.

”....i hope she won't get possessed by shidou-”

As you open the door, you meet with a pouty face of shidou who's sitting down on the grass field while the room is filled with balls lingering around like a mess.

” alright shidou, what the f-”

” i miss you. ”

”.....nuh uh- don't you use that excuse on me- NUH UH”

Shidou positions himself while sitting in front of you. Making some puppy face to ask for mercy makes you scrunch your face in disgust.

{a/n: I can't y'all I'm SoRrY-}

You look at his puppy face for a bit before sighing heavily making him grin a bit as if winning the lottery.

”....what do you want from me broo... I'm losing my shit just being here for 102935392735635 times because of you..." You covered your face with your hands making it look like you're in denial and you are.

” but that wouldn't be so fun if i tell you won't it?~~~” he smirked before patting his lap for you to sit on.

You sigh again for a tired of energy getting up at 3 am just to deal with him-

You sat down on the grass field but not for so long before shidou dragging you to sit on his lap. You ended up in a very uncomfortable position on his lap.

”.... I'm tired shidou... It's 3 in the morning... Why are you doing this? Did Rin annoy you or something? Neo league won't be too long before it ends y'know? wHy CaN't Y-” a big yawn escape from your mouth as you lean on shidou's shoulder.

He smells like shit.

But it's fine- you're too tired it makes sense while there's so many balls on the grass field. He probably got too bored getting locked up in here.

Shidou just hummed at everything questions you asked him while qooing you like a baby in his arms.

"just sleep my ever lasting star-”

" cringe.”

” the love of my life?”

” 2 × cringe.”

” my beloved, dear, sugar boo, pookie bear, bab-”

" stop it, I'm to die out of the cringiness you're making me. How did you come out with those nicknames.?"

”what can I say- you bring the best out of me, manager~”

”....cringe. no wonder why sae Itoshi ran away from you”

” ouch. but still love you tho.” he smug at you

”... thanks.”

[vettelsvee]

I CAN BUY YOU SOME FLOWERS | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | requests or let's talk!

redbull sebastian vettel x journalist!reader

word count: 1955

warnings: seb just being a flirt and then, a shy sunshine who just wants to surprise reader :) use of y/n.

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

After an intense race dominated by Red Bull, with Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber securing a 1-2 finish, respectively, it was Y/N Y/L/N's turn to interview the winner. With her notebook in one hand and a recorder in another, she quickly adjusted her attire to look as presentable as possible before the interview with who she considered her favorite person to interview started.

"Congratulations, Sebastian!" the girl began as the blonde approached her. "As always, an impressive victory. How do you feel about it? You've achieved, if I'm not wrong, a total of six consecutive wins this season."

"Thank you very much, Y/N," Vettel replied as professionally as he could. "It was a really tough race. We had to push hard and extract energy from the car where there wasn't any to maintain our lead," he explained, focusing his gaze on the journalist. "Still, I can't help but be happy with the result. The team has done an incredible job."

Y/L/N was nervous. She knew that, sooner or later, the world champion would start with the back-and-forth banter so characteristic of their relationship, punctuated with his... kinda romantic jokes.

"Let's talk about today's strategy," the journalist abruptly changed the subject, following the agenda outlined in her notebook. "Do you think it lived up to previous ones, or should it improve in any aspect for future races?"

Sebastian laughed, crossing his arms.

"I don't think I should tell you anything about strategies just in case the other teams hear us, Y/N. But for you... I'll say that strategy is like dancing in a nightclub," the blonde explained. "Sometimes it's crowded, and you have no space. Other times, the floor is all yours, and there are moments when you have to improvise to get the girl, and that's what I did today, trusting myself and my instincts."

She nodded, inwardly amused by the ridiculous comparison made by the current championship leader.

"So, you see," he continued, "it seems the strategy turned out to be a success. I hope Horner and Marko are proud of me."

"They surely are, Sebastian," the journalist affirmed. "And now, I'd like to move on to talk about your teammate, Mark Webber. Your ups and downs are known worldwide, especially among your team's loyal followers. Is there anything you'd like to highlight about him? We've never heard you say anything positive about the Australian, and I'd like to give that scoop to the world."

"You're right. If I don't mention Mark, he'll probably give me a good scolding as soon as I finish talking to you," Vettel commented in a mocking tone. "Okay, I'll be honest with you: if it weren't for them, I wouldn't have many great races. But don't tell Mark or his ego will skyrocket!"

The young woman laughed once again. She knew that, in some way, Sebastian was right, but she was also aware of all the great achievements he had accomplished as the three-time world champion.

"Don't worry, Sebastian," the brunette assured him, "your secret is safe with me."

"Call me Seb, darling."

There it was.

The moment she, deep down, had been waiting for. Sebastian the flirt Vettel had once again made a stellar appearance, and the journalist was sure he wouldn't leave anytime soon.

She didn't know why it mattered to her. After all, he had the same stupid behavior with the rest of the female journalists.

She wasn't special.

"Let me improvise a bit, Seb," she suggested, emphasizing the pilot's nickname.

Before he could utter a word, the girl was already formulating the question that had been eating away at her every time she saw the seductive side of the man in front of her.

"Everyone knows that you're quite the charmer. Why do you show this kind of character every time you have an interview, especially with people of the opposite sex?"

Vettel chuckled, somewhat surprised by the question even though he didn't want to admit it. If there was one thing he had liked about Y/N Y/L/N from the moment he met her it was how direct she was in each of the interviews he had had the pleasure of conducting with her.

"Are you seriously accusing me of being the greatest seducer Formula 1 has ever seen?" the pilot asked with a mischievous smirk. "What can I say: it's all because of the adrenaline of the races. I also quite enjoy female company, especially yours."

The woman exhaled, knowing it was one of his many tactics to charm women into bed, as she had heard from other colleagues.

"I'm just being myself, enjoying the moment, and speaking my mind, trying not to mess up too much because, as you may have noticed, I don't always come out on top," the blonde continued, now completely opening up to the woman.

"You have a natural charm that makes you very special. Now I understand why you have so many fans," the journalist clarified. "Sometimes it feels like a One Direction concert here!"

"Yeah, I've heard of them," Seb said casually. "But I think it's also because I enjoy the conversations many of them offer me, because they're very beautiful. But not more than you, by the way."

Sebastian Vettel was totally playing with her, but try as she might, she couldn't help but start to fall for his charms.

"Oh, wow... Thank you, Seb," Y/N whispered, blushing.

"I'm just saying the truth. I mean it."

The young woman was static, unsure whether to believe what the pilot was telling her at that moment. His eyes seemed sincere, and as her grandmother used to say: eyes never lie.

"Changing the subject, princess. What are your favorite flowers?"

"Tulips," the young woman blurted out without thinking, impressed by Sebastian's compliments. "If it's possible, yellow ones."

"Noted," the blonde replied, touching his temple with his index finger.

"But why are you asking me this...?"

However, Sebastian Vettel was already walking away from the girl accompanied by Britta, his PR. The last thing Y/N saw before turning around was Seb smiling at her as he waved with his left hand, and all the media astonished by the conversation they had witnessed between them.

It had been a few weeks, almost a month, since Y/N had her last interaction with Sebastian, and to say she missed him was an understatement. The summer break had allowed her to rest and, fortunately, disconnect from everything, although not as much as she would have liked.

Most importantly, despite her incredible memory, she didn't remember a part of the conversation she had with the German.

So, as soon as she returned to work at the Belgian Grand Prix and found a large and beautiful bouquet of tulips in her hotel room, along with a box of chocolates and an anonymous note, she was surprised. No one cared about her enough to behave in such a way.

The same thing happened the night before the qualifying session at Monza. When she opened her door to go to the buffet for dinner, her eyes lit up upon discovering a large bouquet of yellow tulips on the floor, arranged in a green vase. Next to them was a handwritten note that read, "For the most charming journalist. Enjoy these tulips and rest for tomorrow's race, you deserve it for all the hard work you're doing. With love, you're number 1 fan."

Curious and excited, she took, somewhat trembling hands due to nervousness, a small wrapped box hanging from the vase. Carefully, she began to open it, revealing a silver necklace with a pendant in the shape of a Formula 1 steering wheel, something she was passionate about.

A few weeks later, the Friday before the Singapore Grand Prix, Y/N was busy finishing preparing some questions and other different dynamics from the usual ones for the meetings she had with the drivers, including Sebastian. As she finished and made her way from her hotel to the circuit to do her job, she saw something that puzzled her: a figure that looked quite familiar was standing in front of a flower stall, casually choosing a bouquet of tulips and communicating with the vendor as best he could.

She stopped dead in her tracks, surprised, though not as much as she had expected, to recognize Sebastian as the cause of all those details that had been reaching her since last August. Although she was aware that she was running late and might miss the opportunity to speak with some other drivers, she couldn't miss the chance to see how the German was preparing everything.

Sebastian, after some indecision, chose a bouquet of tulips, but this time they were white. After exchanging a few words with the shopkeeper and having paid and thanked him for his service, he left with a big smile on his face.

So it was Vettel all this time..., the girl thought to herself.

When she arrived at the paddock, she found the German driver sitting in a corner away from all the hustle and bustle writing a note. The look of concentration he showed while writing, with his tongue sticking out slightly, melted the journalist's heart.

Undoubtedly, if Seb was doing this, she didn't know what to think about it. Maybe she had judged him too quickly, and he wasn't as much of a womanizer as she initially thought he could be.

After a few minutes, eaten away by impatience, she decided to approach him. As Sebastian looked up and met her gaze, she couldn't hide her nerves.

"Oh, hi, Y/N," he greeted, blushing. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Looks like I caught, huh?" she questioned. "You seemed very focused preparing another one of your famous surprises."

Sebastian laughed nervously; he was definitely caught red-handed. He knew it would happen sooner or later, but he still didn't feel ready to face the girl he loved.

"It seems so. Surprise?"

"Why didn't you ever tell me it was you behind all of this?" the journalist scolded. "You have no idea the headaches I've had these past few months."

"Well..." the boy started, playing with his hands. "I wanted it to be a surprise, and maybe... I was also a bit afraid of how you would react to knowing it was me. I know you think I go from flower to flower, like a sailor, and I thought you might have a bit of a grudge against me for that," he confessed.

Y/N felt weird, because that was exactly what she had been thinking all this time about the driver with whom she had had to spend so much time in interviews, press conferences, and other events.

Once again, life was teaching her not to judge people by their appearances or the comments of others.

"Sebastian," Y/N began, "I loved receiving the surprises you had prepared, but you didn't need to hide behind anonymity. I would have preferred them if you had been more direct."

"Really?" Vettel replied, looking at her intently. "I didn't think you'd like me showing up at your door with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, a box of chocolates, and singing you a song like some mariachis."

"In fact, I would have liked it a lot," she contradicted him. "It shows that you care about whatever you want to have with me and, above all, that you make efforts to make me feel special."

Was Y/N intimidating a three-time Formula 1 world champion?

"Then I think it's time for the surprises to stop being anonymous," Sebastian declared, doing his best to calm his anxiety. "Give me an opportunity and I'll show you how much you mean to me right now, and how important you can be in my life in the future."

[lucifersdickriderdotnet]

Sick and Tired

Summary: you can't say that anything about having a chronic illness is fun, but at least you have friends who care about you. 2.7k words

Disclaimer: GENDER NEUTRAL READER I wrote this in one go at like 3am. So. All of the brothers are in this but it's more platonic than anything else? If you want you can read it as romance because I did imagine kissing several of them on the mouth while writing it. also shout out to the author on ao3 that called Asmo "Momo" and then pointed out that it means "peach" in japanese. I did steal that nickname. lmk if it was you though bc I will credit you.

Notes: This is based on my own personal experience with a mystery disease that has been plaguing me since I hit puberty. I'm going to be very real, I wrote this for myself as a way to cope because I got #sad. it sucks, for sure, but there are some things that make it more bearable and isn't that how life works anyways?

The cool thing about being a human in what is essentially hell is that when diseases happen, you are more or less immune to them. The bad part about being a human in what is essentially hell is that you’re human and it’s essentially hell. Because of this, there are some things that you’ve had to explain to your housemates, or to an overeager Diavolo, or to a concerned Luke. You had to talk Lucifer down from renovating the whole House to put in an elevator because he was “worried about your flimsy human joints.”

“I have bad joints, regardless.” You remember saying, “I’m a human, it comes with the territory. Don’t put an elevator in the House, I don’t like them anyway.”

You’ve had to explain that while you’re grateful that they managed to find vitamin D supplements, they’re meant to be just that, a supplement to spending time in the sun, something the Devildom doesn’t have. So while your symptoms have been alleviated, they have not been fixed. Levi fixed this by buying you something like a heat lamp.

“Where did you even find this?” You’d said after he’d forced you underneath it.

“You’re gonna hate the words that are going to come out of my mouth.” His hands stilled from where they were busy attaching it to the wall by your bed.

“Just tell me.”

“Some demons used to, emphasis on ‘used to’, own humans as pets. So they made these little lamps to mimic the sun or whatever.” You blink at him, rapid fire before shrugging a little.

“Humans used to own each other.” He turns his head to gape at you like a fish.

“What?”

“Yeah it was a whole thing. There are still lasting repercussions that echo through our modern society.”

“That’s insane.”

“I thought I told you before that human cruelty knows no bounds.”

Solomon of course, is no help, because while he may be human, he is old. You’d complained of jaw pain once, something about your teeth aching.

“It might be a demon.” He’d said this confidently at the one dinner a month he’s allowed to have with the brothers. As per the dating-Asmo-agreement he made with Lucifer.

“It might be a what?” Satan’s head whipped towards Solomon so fast you thought he broke something.

“A demon. Tooth pain is caused by little demons in the teeth.” You stared at him like he grew a second head.

“No, it’s not. It’s caused by bacteria eating away at your teeth. And that’s just for cavities. This could be something completely different. Also, I don’t think humans have believed the demon teeth thing in forever. God, you’re old.” Your frustrated rebuttal of Solomon’s “wisdom” had not stopped the brothers from checking you up and down for curses or signs of possession.

So, for the most part. It’s fine, and you don’t mind explaining these things to them just like they don’t mind explaining demon culture to you. This though, you’ve never been able to explain to anyone, so you can’t explain it to them either.

—

“I’m so tired,” it’s noon and you woke up from sleeping two hours earlier. Asmo has dragged you out of the house for some shopping spree, and while you were excited to go, your energy levels have quickly depleted.

“But darling! We just started!” Despite saying this, he’s walking towards the register with the clothes he’s decided he likes, willing to cut his trip short if it’s for you. You shake your head.

“No, no, keep shopping. I’m always tired, Peach.” He hums and goes back to perusing the shelves while you stay seated by the dressing room for his mini fashion shows.

You don’t just get tired while hanging out with Asmo, it happens everywhere. Beel has to catch your head when you almost faceplant into your lunch. You spend a Devildom History class fighting to keep your eyes open while Satan takes twice the amount of notes as usual so you don’t fall behind. Levi asks you to watch a special livestream of a Sucre Frenzy concert and you have to sit down halfway through because you’re suddenly dizzy. You even fall tired while driving Mammon’s car, once.

He’d been in the passenger seat, fretting over your every move, and you’d understood despite the fact that it was incredibly annoying. This car was his baby, something he was incredibly proud of, something he worked hard to get. Still, having someone freak out over your driving usually makes it worse.

You’d been gently reassuring him of your skills when you felt it, the familiar pull of your eyelids, the way your brain seemed to slow down. It takes you a second longer than it should to register the red light and you have to slam on the brakes to avoid running it. It’s not too soon after that when you decide to pull over and have Mammon drive you home. You fall asleep on the way back.

—

This all comes to a head when you manage to outsleep Belphie.You aren’t sure how you did it, honestly. You went to bed on Friday afternoon and vaguely remember being woken up because a meal was ready. You remember making some sort of affirmative noise and then going back to sleep. You have hazy memories of stumbling to the bathroom and chugging down bottles of water, but mostly it was just sleep. Then, Belphie is shaking you awake. He’s saying something you can’t quite hear and Beel is picking you up and carrying you to the living room and the lights are so bright it turns your brain back on.

“Belphie, did you do somethin’?” It’s Mammon’s voice, accusatory. Someone pokes your cheek.

“So you kill a guy once and suddenly everything that happens to them is your fault?” His reply makes you snort.

“Did you or not?”

“No. This is… this is something else.” He sighs and then one of your eyelids is being manually opened so he can make eye contact with you before he lets go and your head drops slightly. “I know what my sin feels like. I know what Sloth feels like. It’s a choice, mostly. It’s the action of choosing to do nothing rather than something. This is something else. Something completely different.” You yawn and scrub at your eyes, finally opening them to stare at your posse.

“Did I get a fanclub while I was napping?”

“You’ve always had a fanclub,” Levi says quietly.

“Napping? You call that a nap?” Asmo pokes your cheek and you assume he’s the one who did it the first time.

“How do you know they have a fanclub?” Satan turns his head to Levi and his brother turns a bright shade of red.

“I’m the president.” He says. Beel raises his hand.

“I’m VP. We hold meetings every Wednesday. Lucifer pretends it’s stupid but he’s always in the club room ‘doing student council work’.”

“Can we get back to the matter at hand?” Lucifer finally interjects, not wanting to deal with his brothers’ needling. Satan grumbles something about him being a loser under his breath. “Are you aware of how long you were asleep for?”

“I mean, I dunno,” you stretch your arms above your head and almost hit someone in the face. “I remember someone coming to me about dinner, so probably a while. Why?” Lucifer sighs and rubs a hand down his face.

“It’s Sunday afternoon.” You stare at him blankly.

“This is the worst joke you’ve ever told.”

“I am not joking,” he says and Levi shoves his D.D.D under your nose. Sure enough it says that today, the day you are finally awake, is Sunday. It says that it’s 2pm. You’ve slept for almost a full 48 hours. The thought brings tears to your eyes immediately and Levi freaks out.

“No wait, don’t cry. I don’t know what to do when you cry!” His hands are flapping around your face uselessly and it makes you laugh and choke on a wet sob.

“You can back the fuck up, for starters.” Satan bodily pushes his brothers out of the way to get to you, placing a box of tissues on your lap and sitting next to you. Not close enough to touch, but enough so you know he’s there.

“Sorry,” you take a tissue and blow your nose. Beel holds out a trashcan and Asmo pretends not to be disgusted. It’s sweet. “Crying in front of people is so cringe.”

“Being vulnerable and crying is not something you should be ashamed of,” Lucifer says and it’s weird to have your own words parroted back at you.

“Why’re you apologizin’ anyway? ‘S not like you did anythin’ wrong. We’re just worried is all.” Mammon runs a hand over your hair as he says it before remembering himself and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Because it’s never been this bad before. I’ve never slept for damn near two days.”

“So this is a recurring problem?” Satan has procured a notebook from out of nowhere and has his hand poised to write down what you’re saying. Presumably to go scour his books for a solution.

“Yeah. It’s … I’m tired a lot. Always, really. I’m tired right now, actually. Sometimes it’s worse than others but … I don’t really know what’s wrong.” You huff, “I was actually in the process of getting tests done to figure it out when I got magic-ed here. Isn’t that funny?”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Asmo is resting his head on your shoulder and you tilt your head so it rests on his.

“Not really. ‘M sorry, Peach. I’d tell you if there was.”

“I always wondered why you had such deep eyebags. I thought it was something in your skincare routine.”

“It’s also genetic.”

“Humans have genes for dark under eyes?” He sounds horrified at the prospect.

“Sure do.”

“That’s miserable.” You laugh at him and he squeezes your hand gently.

“So, yer just… tired.” Mammon asks.

“Mhm.”

“Chronically.”

“Also yes.”

“I didn’t know you knew the word ‘chronic’, Mammon,” Belphie ribs Mammon from his spot on the floor. You kick him slightly.

“Don’t be an ass.” He sighs dramatically and flops over onto his back.

“It’s good to know it’s not a freaky demon thing.” He peers up at you from underneath his bangs.

“Yeah. I’m kind of tired of dealing with freaky demon things. No offense.” There’s a chorus of agreement throughout the room and you can see everyone relax a little now that they know.

“It is a shame though,” Lucifer says, “that it is not demon related.” His brow furrows. “Those I can fix.” You shrug and slightly jostle Asmo’s head.

“Eh. That’s life. Thank you for being concerned though, I appreciate it.” Your stomach grumbles. “I guess I should eat, huh?” Asmo graciously lifts his head off your shoulder and you head to the kitchen, Beel on your tail.

“There’s nothing we can do?” He looks sad, and he’s rubbing his wrist in that way he does when he’s nervous. You’re struck with the realization that Beel is the defender of his family. He’s physically the biggest and the strongest, and he’s been looking after them and taking care of them physically for basically forever. It must be excruciating for him to not be able to help you.

“No,” you shake your head sadly, “I’m sorry, Bug.” You step forward and give him a hug. He returns it and you pretend you can’t feel him cry.

—

Things are different after that. Asmo tries to hang out with you in places closer to the House or in his room. Lucifer pulls you aside and tells you both his room and his study are always open for you if you need them. Beel takes you to the gym with him so you don’t stay too sedentary, but is always willing to stop working out if you need to go home. Satan almost gets into a physical altercation with a teacher over you sleeping in class and you find out later that Belphie gave him nightmares for a week. Levi doesn’t make you sit through as many anime binges anymore, instead separating them up into something more bite sized so you can properly enjoy it. It’s nice, you think, that they’re trying to take your needs into consideration.

Diavolo catches wind of it and sneaks his way over to the House to ask you questions. Walks into Lucifer’s study where you’re trying to do assigned reading like he owns it, and you think that he probably does in some way.

“Diavolo–” Lucifer stands up and Diavolo laughs.

“Don’t worry! There is nothing wrong! I just had some questions for our lovely exchange student.” He sits down in the armchair across from you and you set your notebook down.

“What’s up?” You can hear Lucifer mumbling prayers to a God who will no longer listen to them and it makes you snort.

“I have learned of your condition.”

“I gathered.”

“There is nothing I can do?”

“Do you have several degrees and a shit ton of fancy machinery?” Lucifer chokes at your language. Diavolo smiles at you.

“Can’t say that I do.”

“Then, no. There isn’t.” He hums thoughtfully and you busy yourself with trying to figure out Lucifer’s Demonus organization pattern. It doesn’t seem to be by age, so maybe it’s by color?

“What does it feel like?” Diavolo’s question draws you out of your comparison of two almost identical wine reds. You think one has a brighter undertone but that could be the color of the label.

“Have you ever been tired?”

“Indeed.”

“Have you ever not slept, for like, a whole day, and you can feel that your brain isn’t working at maximum capacity?” He nods. “Have you ever felt like you were trying to run in a swimming pool?”

“I can run in swimming pools.” You roll your eyes.

“Can you run through slime?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“It’s like that. It’s being so tired that you know you aren’t operating at your best and being able to do nothing about it. It’s like moving through water. It’s never getting enough sleep. I could sleep the perfect amount for a human my age and I would still be down to take several long naps throughout the day. And it’s not something I can ignore, either. I can’t just power through it. Because after a while, it starts to hurt.”

“Hurt?” He frowns, and it’s weird to see him not smiling.

“Yeah. It’s. When I get too tired my eyes will hurt. It feels like they’re grapes and someone is squishing the life out of them. It feels like a thousand tiny needles poking at my eyes. It feels like someone is squishing the bridge of my nose in their fist and refuses to let go. It makes my stomach hurt, it makes me nauseous and sick, and it makes me dizzy and it’s awful.”

“I see.”

“So, I have to sleep. I have to sleep because if I don’t it hurts and if I manage to get through that my body will make itself sleep, anyway. It’ll just turn off, regardless of if I want it to or not.”

“That. That is miserable. I am sorry you have to experience such a thing.” You shrug a little and stare at your hands.

“What can you do?” It comes out sarcastic and dry. There’s a silence, tense and weighty, and you know what he’s going to ask before he does.

“Do you need to go to the human world?” You can hear Lucifer’s sharp inhale even though he was pretending to not listen.

“Maybe. But, if it is what I think it is, it won’t go away. I’ll just know and get medication. Probably.” Diavolo stands and nods.

“At least you will know. I will figure something out for you.” He nods again, this time to himself. “There is no reason for you to suffer this way.”

“It won’t go away, Diavolo. I’ll still have it.” You need him to know this. You need him to know that it won’t be permanently fixed. You don’t want him to be disappointed when everything’s said and done and you’re still sick.

“Yes, but things will be better, no? Some progress is better than no progress, no matter how small.” He pauses and smiles at you, warm and comforting. “And we will all be there for you. Regardless of the outcome.”

[ipostwhatiwant1202]

More Headcanons I think are 100% valid and I don't care what anyone says:

note: do you guys like the headcanons or prompts/imagines more? i like writing both but i also enjoy your feedback :)

• none of them like milk

• they're all guilty of leaving the seat up on the toilet

• they write notes to eachother on the bathroom mirror after a shower when the mirror is fogged up

• they have a group text with just the four of them and then one with april and casey

• the group text of the four of them is just a bunch of memes and gossiping

• the group text with april and casey is just them bullying casey and dinner plans

• none of them can eat thai or indian food

• while they don't get sick very often, they all get sick within a day of each other

• leo and mikey both have very sensitive skin

• raph does skin care

• donnie has the best skin out of all of them and does no skin care

• they have code words

• they all enjoy musicals

• the first time april had her period around them, due to their heightened sense of smell, all four of them literally panicked because their friend was bleeding out (like full on cold open fire scene from the office freaking out)

• speaking of the office, donnie is a big fan of it and so is leo

• raph and mikey are brooklyn 99 fans

• mikey is the master cook in the house and leo is always the taste tester

• donnie is a very picky eater

• raph can eat literally almost anything

• mikey loves horror movies but he can't watch them by himself

• leo and raph enjoy watching war movies

• donnie likes movies that are based on real events, he loves crime shows

• they all hate broccoli

• they all eat lettuce like it's candy

• since their energy is lower in the winter, they all become more lethargic and cuddlier because of it

• 'i love yous' are rare but not unheard of, they'll say it if one of them is genuinely upset or have gotten hurt in an almost life threatening way

• their ways of saying i love you:

- leo uses praise and/or compliments

- raph does head shoves/shoulder pats

- donnie will say how cool they are

- mikey just says it with no shame

• it's canon that they all have nicknames that they call each other

• mikey always controls the aux when they're driving places

• donnie does directions

• leo drives

• raph is in charge of snacks

• they have similar mannerisms when they're explaining something, they all talk with their hands a lot

• none of them can sleep without hugging something

• leo's big broisms come out whenever his brothers are sad/upset, even when he's mad at them

• raph's little broisms come out whenever he's hanging out one on one with leo

• chronic middle child donnie causes the most chaos in the lair and no one suspects it's him

• since mikey is the baby, he still gets baby treatment well into adulthood when he's upset

• they're all guilty of calling april babe at some point

• they also call her 'ape' just to make her mad

• speaking of april, they're all very fascinated by her hair and nail designs she has done

• she's the one who introduced them to skin care

• leo hates coffee but loves the smell

• raph loves red bull

• donnie can't stand the taste of dr pepper

• mikey lives off purple crush and mt. dew

• splinter still tells them stories

• they can't go to sleep without saying goodnight to each other

[l0v3tast3]

Listen. Only do this if you feel like it❤️

But can you do a hc or short ff (Anything is cool) with a reader that tells Ghost, price, Alejandro and Rudy that they see them as a father figure and that they feel save and protected around them?

Something wholesome because I thing we all could use some 🧎‍♂️❤️

✎ this is so adorable i love this idea omg

✎ tags: alejandro and rudy use feminine spanish nicknames for you but otherwise i think i kept it gender neutral reader?, military reader, pure fluff <3, not proofread im too cool for that

☆ simon "ghost" riley

♡ you're both in the kitchen of the compound's living area at the same time, you perched on a counter while you and simon are waiting for coffee to brew. your conversation had turned to the last mission you had all went on.

♡ your arm had been grazed by a bullet during a firefight, and as much as simon will deny it, he went kind of ballistic. the enemies were neutralized within minutes after that and through your protests of "it was my arm, dumbass, i can walk!" he still picked you up and took you to safety and stitched you up.

♡ the whole time he had lectured you about staying behind cover and checking all your surroundings and all the other things you knew how to do, but you knew he wasn't angry with you because his hands were more gentle than you thought they could be.

♡ so when you're both waiting for coffee to brew and you tell him that he made you feel safe and that he was protective of you in a good dad way, he short-circuits.

♡ you see him as a father figure? he can't really figure it out himself why you do, even when he gives you a weird look and you try to explain further. he watches you with the same weird look through his balaclava (his eyebrows do plenty of talking for him) until the coffee is done and he pours you both cups and walks off.

♡ you just shrug and go about your day, but simon thinks about it for weeks. he doesn't forget how you trust him and he makes a point of keeping an eye out for you from now on, even if he was already doing it subconsiously.

☆ john price

♡ it's you and the other four guys, price, soap, ghost, and gaz, all sitting at a table playing cards and drinking. you're all joking around and gaz brings up how price is like an old grandpa sometimes with the stories he tells, and you chime in with "yeah, he's totally like our dad!"

♡ gaz, soap, and ghost all just nod their agreement with laughs but price stops, looking at you questioningly. he asks you if you really think of him like a dad, and you smile and nod.

♡ you tell him about how he's always so on top of everything and he makes sure the team stays together and solid, and how he just has "dad energy", which he doesn't understand but he'll ask gaz about later. it makes him feel a little warm inside but he just looks away so you can't see the obvious smile threatening to push through onto his face.

♡ he thinks about it for awhile afterwards. he covers up the mushy feelings he gets with dad jokes and sarcastic comments, but he makes sure to encourage and look out for you from then on.

♡ you can be damn well sure that if this man sees you flirting with anyone, he'll march on over and just start grilling them. it chases the person away 100% of the time because come on, this is captain john price of the 141 task force, and it kind of pisses you off, but he definitely finds it hilarious.

☆ alejandro vargas

♡ alejandro and you are holed up in a safehouse for a few hours during a mission and need to kill time, so as per usual he's sitting calmly, cleaning his weapons, and you're bouncing off the walls. he loses count of how many times he tells you to just sit about 45 minutes in.

♡ "changuita, you need to sit, preserve your energy," he says, about one million and two times. you just throw him an annoyed look and a quick "i'm not a monkey!", to which he just watches you once again climb a piece of furniture out of pure boredom.

♡ you almost (definitely intentionally) fall off of the couch when you go to jump onto it next to him and he bursts out laughing, warning you not to break something. you're response to this is, "whatever dad, you're the old one here!"

♡ he's just like, did i hear that right? and quirks an eyebrow at you. you give him a look back, confused, and he asks you if you think of him as your father.

♡ "well, not like, my dad, but, like... my dad, ya' know?" is followed by, "no, chiquita, i don't know." he's chuckling though, and he just shakes his head and goes back to cleaning his gun.

(changuita = little monkey , chiquita = little one , i googled this pls lmk if it's wrong lol)

☆ rodolfo parra

♡ rudy is bent under the hood of your car, inspecting the different compartments and liquids, explaining them to you when you accidentally call him "dad". you had called him over because a light on your dashboard had lit up and didn't really know what to do about it, and he had said before that if you ever need help to call him.

♡ he figures out what's wrong pretty quick and let's you know, saying he can have it easily fixed within the hour, and you beam up at him excitedly with a "thanks, dad!" you scurry inside to get something to drink for you both without realizing, and he's left to stand in the driveway, dumbfounded.

♡ when you come back out, you ask him why he looks weird and he asks, "hermana, do you really see me as a father figure?" and you think about it for a bit before you nod with a smile. "yeah, you always help me out when i need it and, ya know, i feel safe with you!"

♡ his heart melts and he vows then and there to always make sure that never changes with you. he starts actually treating you like his child, making sure you know you can call him for help whenever, going out of his way to get you whatever you need when he goes shopping for anything, making sure you're hanging around good people, etc. etc.

♡ rudy won't admit it but he really does start seeing you as his own child, and he always does his absolute best to keep an eye out for you.

(hermana = sister , again i just googled platonic spanish nicknames)

[peppermintquartz]

Buck is outside manning the comms, with Chimney monitoring two people breathing in oxygen, having been closest to the malfunctioning pyrotechnics. The arena is being checked by the rest of the team. At least there aren't any serious casualties.

Two guys clad in leather gear - one of them with long braided hair and eyeliner, the other with very striking blue eyes and impossible abs- wander over to Buck.

"Hey, thanks for what you're doing," says the shorter one. He has a distinct Irish accent. Buck is certain that if he were not already happily attached, he'd want to try his luck with this one. "Pyro really fucked up tonight."

The tall one laughs, his voice a mellow, deep tone. "Hunter's gonna have their heads for this screwup. Imagine if this was at Mania." He mimes an axe chopping at his neck.

"Sometimes circuits go haywire," Chimney chimes in. "I heard there wasn't anything wrong yesterday during rehearsals."

Irish shrugs. "I was there only for our bit. Pyro went off okay at that time." Then he smiles, and it's a megawatt smile that hits Buck like a truck. "Forgot my manners. Fergal, but people round here also call me Finn."

"Damian," says the tall one.

Buck shakes their hands. Damn, they're strong. "Buckley, but I go by Buck. This is Chimney."

Damian looks curious. "That's an interesting nickname. How did you get it?"

Before Chimney shares his story, another guy calls out, "Heyo! I was looking for you guys. Ay, who's this handsome brother?"

The guy that called out and joins them is taller than Fergal, with a genuine mullet and some unfortunate facial hair, but he has a bouncy, golden retriever energy about him even though he's dressed in purple and black, like Finn and Damian.

Buck grins. "I'm Buck, this is Chimney."

"Firefighters! So cool. I wanted to be one when I was a kid, pero it was only for, like, a month, just before that custody match. I'm Dom." The guy waves at someone behind Buck. "AY, MAMI! Get here, we got two hotties to chat with while they deal with the inside."

A young woman with insanely sculpted shoulders and back - Buck feels almost skinny next to her - walks over. Her eyes are heavily made up and her hair gelled down, making her look intimidating and extremely goth, but her tone is light and cheery. "Hey! Agnes got my makeup done in the parking lots instead. I hear Bob say we're just gonna start half an hour later." She waves hi to the two firefighters. "Rhea. Can't thank you guys enough for what you're doing, lots of fans traveled here for tonight and I'd hate to let them down."

"It's our duty," Chimney says. Then he adds, "Say, we don't have paper or pens on us, but is it cool if we do a group selfie?"

"Sure!" Dom is the first to whip out his phone. "Dames, your arm's the longest."

"World Heavyweight Champion and a glorified selfie stick, that's me alright," Damian grumbles good-naturedly.

Buck is thanking them when Chimney suddenly says, "Hey, Fergal, can you Too Sweet Buck?"

"What? What's that?" Buck is thoroughly bewildered. It sounds kinky, but Chim wouldn't suggest something inappropriate.

Chimney rolls his eyes. "How have you been dating Tommy and not watched any pro wrestling?"

Buck wants to retort that he and Tommy have better things to do, but realizes that he's literally with a bunch of pro wrestlers.

Fergal chuckles. He has really red lips, Buck notices, distracted momentarily.

"You just hold your hand up like this, touch the tip of your middle and ring finger to your thumb," Fergal explains, demonstrating. "Hold it here - okay."

Then Fergal does the same gesture with his left hand and touches their fingertips together, holding the pose long enough for Chimney to get a couple of photos on Dom's phone.

"I'm posting these to Instagram," Dom announces. "You want I should tag you both?"

"Sure!"

*

Tommy is staring at his phone when Buck gets home, but his head snaps up and he is totally starstruck.

"You were Too Sweeted by Fergal Devitt? What's he like? Is he more handsome in person?" Tommy asks in a rush.

Buck rolls his eyes fondly. "Nice to see you too, babe."

Tommy jumps off the couch and kisses Buck. "Sorry. Welcome home. Also, wow? The Judgment Day? And Fergal fucking Devitt?"

"Why? Is he a big deal?" Buck already knows - he spent the rest of his shift looking up the group he took selfies with and watching some of their matches.

"Only the founder of one of the most influential factions in all of pro wrestling?!" Tommy is practically squealing. "Tell me everything."

Buck has to laugh at his boyfriend fanboying hard. He pecks Tommy's cheek and taps the tip of his aquiline nose. "You are ridiculously cute. I gotta shower, and I'll tell you over dinner."

"At least tell me he's as pretty in person as in pictures," Tommy almost whines.

Buck smirks. He's also checked out their socials. "Oh, way prettier."

[satoru786]

⚠ CAUTION ⚠-DON'T USE MINA SUBLIMINAL‼️+ EXPOSING MINA AND OLIVIA

Its my first and last post...i made it cause i just want to warn u all

Ignore errors cause english is not my first language

Stop following anyone blindly

I am not that anon but i think she got some mind bjt she wasted in proving this much

I m not going to type so much cause i m super lazzzzy i am just going to attach some pics if u have mind u will get it i am not going explain everything cause i am not your slave...anyways lets start

I am not going to use word Proof cuz Olivia had already used it so much 🤣🤣.... lets go with confirmations .....

Conformations

1. The profile pic of Olivia account that she claims is of mina *they are same person*

ORIGINAL PIC... DON'T ASK ME HOW I GET IT I M JUST LUCKY 🍀

Its from a girl name @melikesaygin11 on insta

Some of the post of her focus on the face and tatoo in pic 1

I will show u magic... Ready... hope u r not blind

2. As long as i remember Olivia said that she have some million followers on insta i found her account on friday 16 she have less then 50 followers but she deleted her account now but luckily i have taken screen shot of her all post (she claims that she posted her pic) and in the proof provided by her she have posted 88 topics letsssss seeeee......... Wait and watch

The 1st pic in the set is presented by her as proof but she hides her face

These are the major proofs but if u want more i am guiding u..

He mercedes google lens the all the pic u will find that the car is own by girl name laporscha... maybe some spelling is wrong

All her post she claims with mina just focus on the locket and go to the saygin account u will find it

Her nickname is jodie she attached her fb account there

Her subliminals are not safe i am not forcing u can use at ur own risk ur life ur rules

All her proof pic u can find it on tik tok of the saygin i dont find it because it is banned in my country.. Just go for old posts

Maybe i even got the real account(confirm from my side) of Olivia aka mina aka jodie not going to mention it cuz dont want increase the drama... but it have around 4k followers.. Where the hell are other 49996000 followers are..

Some of u be like- Now Olivia is exposed wht about mina?

Hmmm ..good question..

Girl in profile pic and posts are same wht about claims of Olivia

.. And mina agreed with every post of Olivia even reblogged it.. so.. Hope u get it. ITS ALL FAKE..

The question arises why i m doing this...

I am sanatani and its my dharma to guide everyone but to be honest i am least interested to warn u all as the someone has said that“Never wrestle with a pig because you'll both get dirty and the pig likes it."  Positive energy is much more powerful than negative energy. If you stay positive, the negativity can't touch you...

SOME PEOPLE BE LIKE - WHT TO DO NOW?

Just little bit motivation for u all listen VOID is real and i m guarantee this because my religion is oldest and in vedas and upanishads they claims that one who attain shunyata or zero state aka void can manipulate the reality....***Even one of the holy book which is known as SHRIMAD BHAGAVAD-GITA it have divine knowledge given by lord KRISHNA who is the supreme power or almighty himself. If you will read it with perspective of void you will get the hidden message in few lines (***this is not proved cuz its my ideology).

U just have to let go everything

U dont have to listen subliminal or anything else just let go

Just in case If you are reading this i will think my energy is invested in a good place and my hour is not wasted..

Peace out..🕉️

@unicornjoking1111 @luckykiwiii101 dont be sad focus on ur self..

[natasharswifey]

Little red ❤️

Wanda Maximiff & daughter!reader

Requests open <3

Summary: You're Wanda's daughter and a bit of a problem child, but one day things get a little out of hand.

___☆___

A/N: Reader is pretty young in this but I wasn't sure how to put it as a warning, just a short one shot. I find it hard to read Y/N as my name so I'm using [...] instead!

Tags: Accidental mind control, shock, hurt/comfort, guilt, angst with a happy ending <3

___☆___

Little red.

It was a nickname that stuck only a few months after you moved into the compound with Wanda. Mainly because of the colour of your mother's powers, but also because you had quite the temper.

It was always a wonder how so much energy and rage could fit into such a small six-year-old, but it never seemed to end with you.

Whenever you weren't throwing a fit you were the sweetest thing alive, giving hugs left and right and smiling all the time with a toothy grin.

Luckily, Wanda was kind and patient with you, calming you after meltdowns and always being reasonable.

But after starting kindergarten a month ago you'd taken a a turn for the worse.

___☆___

“Honey, you need to calm down.”

“No!” You scream for the fourth time. It was likely you didn't even remember what had gotten you upset in the first place.

Wanda did, though. This had all started two hours ago when she'd calmly explained that eating an entire tub of ice cream wouldn't be healthy, or even possible with such a small stomach.

Fours hours before Natasha had to haul you back inside screaming before you ran out into a storm because you were convinced hanging out with Thor gave you his lightning powers.

Earlier that morning she'd had to battle with you about getting ready for school, then getting out of the car and to the front gate.

The night before you'd refused to go to sleep in your bed, waking half the compound by sneaking around clumsily in the dead of night.

This was pretty much the weekly routine since you'd started school, which meant Wanda had barely gotten any rest between you and working alongside the Avengers.

“I want it now!”

“Please, [………], just take a deep breath and-”

“I don't wanna, I want ice cream!”

So you did remember this time. Either way it wasn't happening, dealing with you would only be more difficult if you were hopped up on sugar.

“You can't have anymore tonight, sweetie, how about tomorrow.”

Before Wanda can continue trying to calm you down you start bawling and she can’t hear herself think.

She had never thought parenting would be so hard, Wanda had always imagined doing this with Vision, but with him gone and you being so difficult this all seemed so impossible.

Wanda can see you take another sharp inhale to begin crying again, placing a hand on your shoulder to try and stop you before you can.

Then you stop.

It was so abrupt that Wanda could immediately tell something was wrong. As she shuffled directly in front of you she covered her mouth in shock at the sight of your eyes swirled with red. Her red.

___☆___

When you came back around everything was fuzzy. You didn't really remember why you were on the kitchen floor, or why your mom looked so scared and sad.

“Hey, [………] talk to me, kid.”

You wanted to ask what was going on, why your mother wouldn't come close to you and why your aunt looked so concerned, but the words got caught in your throat.

In all honesty you just wanted to sleep right on the floor where you were sat, but Auntie Nat was very adamant you should stay awake.

The doctor said you'd suffered a shock and would be better soon. You didn't actually remember what happened in the kitchen, but thought you must have misbehaved terribly because your mom didn't want to be near you anymore.

___☆___

“Wanda?” Natasha whispers quietly, the two of them standing in the doorway watching over you as you slept.

She had decided to move out of the compound away from the city until you fully recovered and Nat had joined you, knowing she would need some help.

“Hey, Nat.”

It had been a week since the accident and Wanda was tired. It wasn't because you had her up at all hours of the night defying your bedtime anymore, it was much worse.

You were silent.

You hadn't spoken a single word to anyone since what had happened. It was hard to tell what was going on in your head since your face often lacked in emotion.

The only time you really acted like a kid was when you took out crayons to draw, even then the only colour you'd use was red.

But the wort part was, Wanda knew it was all her fault.

“How are you holding up?”

Wanda shrugs, “I'm fine.” She's lying through her teeth and they both know it.

“It wasn't on purpose, Wanda.”

“I hurt my own kid.”

“Hey.” Natasha takes her by both of her shoulders, “You were exhausted, you know your powers go haywire when you aren't getting enough rest. The doctor said she'll be better soon- she isn't hurt, you only gave her a little shock that's all.”

The guilt that had been festering since that night came welling up and Wanda finally let herself cry quietly in Natasha’s arms.

___☆___

You woke up a little earlier than usual that morning and did a big stretch before deciding to see what was going on downstairs.

Your mom was curled up on the couch reading a magazine while auntie Nat was in the kitchen frying something.

You tugged so gingerly at her oversized shirt that she didn't even notice you were there until she looked down.

“Hey, Little red. You sleep well?”

You nodded. Out here it was a lot more quiet, and you didn't have to worry about school or your classmates giving you any trouble. Plus your mom was here all the time instead of work. Even if she was being distant.

“Do you want to help me cook breakfast?”

Normally it would be an immediate yes, but you just wanted to be near your mother. You pointed at her and looked up at Nat, clearly wanting to know what to do.

She smiles at you softly, “Go ahead, kid.”

Jumping at the opportunity you scurried over to where she was sitting, slowing down as you got closer. She hadn't yet noticed you, her eyesight blocked by the page in front of her.

You decided to take the opportunity and clamber onto the couch, wriggling until you were in the perfect spot in her arms. She had gone slightly stiff and you could feel her heart pounding, but only cuddled closer to her.

“You guys alright?” Natasha calla from the kitchen, only a small hint of worry in her voice.

“Yeah we're… we're good, right, [……….]?”

You respond by curling up closer, sighing as you closed your eyes.

Wanda's eyes never left you, she was so terrified that she could lose control again, break you, but even with these thoughts swirling around her head, the look of peace on your face as you slept was enough to keep her calm.

___☆___

Notes:

“Marceline, I can feel myself slipping away

I can't remember what it made me say

But I remember that I saw you frown

I swear it wasn't me, it was the crown”

-Remember you, Adventure time

Yayy, happy ending

This wasn't based on the song but its so fitting omg, I don't think I've written something so angsty before but I hope you likeddd :)

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

RE: your last ask... I'm a different anon, trans in the other direction heh. Finding which path bears the most fruit is... So difficult? I'm currently on the waitlist for top surgery and I haven't told my parents yet- it's going to cause so much anger and grief and I don't know if I will be able to maintain a relationship with them. They're very progressive for reformed protestant christians otherwise, moderately leftwing, but something about transness sets off my dad in a way I do not understand and he refuses to explain, he just storms off and says he "can't follow me on this path". So... Yeah. Idunno. Transitioning feels selfish, but I also NEED to do it, so I'll go through with it, I just always wonder if it's gonna be the final nail in the coffin for my faith.

previous ask

I feel for you — it can be hard to discern which way leads to good fruit when you are in the liminal space between the tree planted and the tree fruiting. It can also be really really hard to determine what exactly the tree is: In your case, are potential negative responses to your transness / top surgery the fruit of transness itself? Or is the tree transphobia?

That is how I consider things: When trans people are free to live as themselves without transphobia and cissexism involved (hard to experience these days), the fruit is new life, new energy, new community, new thriving. It is only when those anti-trans reactions enter the mix that the results are instead rejection, violence, and grief.

That is why I firmly maintain that any bad fruits that come from living out our transness are coming from transphobia, not transness itself. I will share my personal experience, while aware that I am extremely lucky and privileged to have parents who were never afraid "for my soul," only a little incredulous about nonbinary genders at first and then concerned about how it would affect my quality of life.

When I told my parents I planned to get top surgery and would appreciate their support, by dad and mom both responded with different flavors of bewilderment about why it was necessary. My dad kept talking about how my body shouldn't matter (typical view of a white, cishet, able bodied man). My mom told me she couldn't offer any financial support to the surgery itself because she thought it was a mistake I'd regret, and a waste of money.

But over the year following my top surgery, they witnessed my transformation: my new energy, joy, willingness to get out of my comfort zone. And they moved into full support.

My mom also originally grieved over my name change, because my birthname was meaningful to her and she felt like I was distancing myself from her by changing it -- but within a year, she gave me the nickname "Aves," and fully supported my legal change when I finally got around to it.

Ultimately, my parents' support and affirmation through calling me the right name and pronouns, and even challenging their friends when they say anti-trans shit, has brought us closer than we ever were before while I was in the closet / completely unaware of what it was that made me feel so disconnected from society.

The affirmation of transness yields good fruit. It is transphobia that yields bad fruit. As the late, great Rachel Held Evans puts it:

"If same-sex relationships are really sinful, then why do they so often produce good fruit—loving families, open homes, self-sacrifice, commitment, faithfulness, joy? And if conservative Christians are really right in their response to same-sex relationships, then why does that response often produce bad fruit—secrets, shame, depression, loneliness, broken families, and fear?"

All this to say: I am so sorry that you have been made to feel torn between your gender and your faith, between transness and your parental relationships. You deserve to be loved exactly as you are, to experience yourself as the holy, beloved person you are. But if you feel you must choose — choose life. Choose surgery and whatever else you need to be you.

I pray that the other things will follow — that your loved ones will witness the good fruit of your choice, and finally be able to follow you into joy. But even if they fail to recognize what is clearly evident, I pray you will feel the presence of the LIVING God who wills abundant life for you.

[rizzraa]

ᯓ★ Jams and Jellies

Chapter 1: Once More to See You

Hello everyone! My name is rizzraa and it's my first time ever posting fanfiction. It's been a while since I wrote an actual story, and even then I still don't think I'm the greatest writer. If you could be patient with me, I'd appreciate that. I don't mind constructive criticism, in fact I welcome it lol. I'm not sure how long this series will last, I just wrote one day because my brain couldn't handle all this yearning and daydreaming of Joel Miller. I didn't even watch the show, it's the tlou community that got ahold of me 😭

So please bear with me and have fun with me :33

Tags: mainly fluff, friends to lovers, post outbreak, yearning and burning, slight age gap (reader is in 30s, Joel is in early 50s), reader insert, mentions of y/n, cute nicknames, overall just an imaginary scenario in my head, shy n awkward Joel, Joel x f!reader, I can't think of anything else for this chapter

Summary:

You are an eccentric and lovely art teacher, trying to foster creativity in youth and elders alike in Jackson. One student seems to have that same artistic flair as you, and it naturally draws you closer to her. Her father notices this and wants you to get closer to him as well.

chap 2

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

You stare at the ceiling as the sun's rays stubbornly peers through the slits of your curtains. You can tell that the sun is starting to rise by how bright the light gets each second. I wonder what I should do today. How can I get them to be more...just more?? It's hard trying to get teenagers to engage with school, but it's straight up embarrassing trying to beg for their attention. You have a lot of energy, you are passionate for the arts, but it seems like that's the last thing the kids are thinking about. Well, they are teenagers. But even then, I still was fond of the arts. It's not THAT boring??? It's fun....? You sighed, getting up from your bed and preparing for the day. You decided that today is the day they will start to appreciate the artistry of the world, because today you will get through to them. With this newfound optimism, you scurry off to the bathroom after realizing your bladder is about to burst.

==========

"Okay kids, today is the start of a new day! Today..we will start a new project!" You announced brightly. Since the start of the school year, you allowed the kids to slack off as a way to destress, but you realize you should be doing more to help them cope with the realities of the outbreak. And they weren't exacrly respecting your quaint classroom.

"Aw come on Miss, why are you springing this on us all of a sudden?"

"Yeah, we already got projects from other classes.."

You inhaled sharply, trying to keep your composure. "Alright listen kids, this class is supposed to allow you wind down and relax, but the way you're supposed to do that in here is through art. It's not just some hangout, it's still a classroom." You paused, looking around at the indifferent kids. "Please guys, trust me when I say this-- art is such a unique and magnificent way to express yourself. It doesn't have to be beautiful, it just has to be you."

You looked around, trying to see if you got through to the kids. Your pleading eyes landed on one girl. Ellie Miller, you thought. She gave you a small, reassuring smile. I understand you, her eyes said. You smiled back, thankful you got through one kid.

You clapped your hands, "All right, here's the project: Each of you will create a portfolio of 5 different pieces of art that represents you. You are allowed to use different media. I expect each piece to have a small paragraph explaining what it is and what your art process was." Your eyes examined the room; some kids looked interested, while others looked annoyed. You continued, "This project is due on June 1st. You will present your project. And..." You paused, waiting for dramatic effect, "I will personally select the most unique and interesting pieces to be displayed at the End-of-the-School-Year Party!" Murmurs and exciting chatter spread across like wildfire, and you mentally patted yourself on the back. "Yes, that's right, children, so you better impress me. Allow yourselves to think boldly, go above and beyond!" You giggled.

"...What if we don't have that much creativity?" One kid shyly asked. Dina, you remembered.

"Well you can come on by anytime, I'm always in this classroom until 5pm! And feel free to bother me at any point outside of class!" You replied.

She gave a quick smile, and you clocked the way Ellie peeked at her from the corner of her eyes. You were always observant of others.

"Alright everyone, get to brainstorming!" The muffled chatter and shuffling grew louder, "Feel free to ask any questions!" Hearing yourself being drowned out by the noise, you decide to stop talking.

Heh, they're finally getting it, you thought smugly. You strolled back to your desk with a noticeable pep in each step.

===========

You looked at the clock, 6:30pm it read. God, has it really been that long? You scan through today's events after you announced the project. Kids moving and talking wildly-- you practically had to kick them out of your door to get to their next class. You sighed, packing up your things and leaving the classroom. I should pick up some groceries, I don't think I have much left in the fridge. You scurried to the nearest market, tugging and pulling at your way-too-heavy bag. You roam through each aisle, getting some fruits, staring at the mouth-watering jams, before hearing a familiar voice cut through your thoughts.

"---Aw, cmon Joel. Just for a quick minute."

"No. We can't risk it."

"But---!"

"Tut-tut--- it's only been getting more dangerous out there kiddo. I'm sorry, but I won't risk it"

You shuffled the jars around and made eye contact with Ellie.

"Uh...hi again" You said nervously. Your eyes flitting from Ellie to the man she was talking to.

Your breath stutters as you finally lay eyes on the dark, brooding man standing besides Ellie. His flannel didn't mask his obnoxiously broad shoulders, in fact it framed him even better. It also didn't help that it was painfully obvious that Joel was bending down to meet your eyes through the aisle shelves, his collarbone peeking through and his eyes getting narrower. But what really drawn you to him was his gorgeous face. His smoldering, deep brown eyes staring back at you, trying to figure you out. But that didn't scare you in the slightest. His perfect wrinkles showing slightly due to his frustration only made you more attracted to this finely drawn man. His pursued lips were sitting on his face and that drew attention to the graying streaks in his mustache and beard. In fact, you started noticing the beautiful strikes of silver across each hair on his head and face. The longer you stared, the more flustered the man got. Eventually he turned away from your gaze, locking eyes with Ellie, who you completely forgot was standing there.

"Oh- I, uh- I'm sorry, it's just- I don't see you around.. um anyways.. I'm [y/n].." You embarrassingly stuttered. God, could you get any more awkward than this??? Pull yourself together, he's just a man!

"Oh well, s'nice to meet ya, Miss. I'm Joel." He nodded. You gave a quick smile and turned your attention back to Ellie, ignoring the feeling that Joel might also be staring at you a little too long. "Everything okay, Ellie? Are there any issues with the project?" You cooly asked.

"Actually, yes-- Joel won't let me venture past the gates, even if he was my chaperone."

"Well, I mean, there IS an ongoing epidemic of infectious monsters.."

"Yeah, well it's nothing I can't handle." She rolled her eyes

"What was that?" You asked quizzically

Her and Joel exchange quick glances, "Nevermind" she said, turning back to face you.

"I.. okay well, I have a garden in my backyard if you want some nature-like inspiration!" You said with enthusiasm and made jazz hands, earning a chuckle from Ellie and a slight smile from Joel. You feel odd pride and a little swell in your heart, and decide to ignore it for now.

"Yeah okay, think I can stop by this weekend?" Ellie asked

"Yeah of course honey, like I said; bother me anytime."

"She'll take you up on that offer, for sure." Joel chuckled. You looked at him adoringly, then said "If it's Ellie, it's no bother." You shot him a terrific smile that caused him to glance slightly away, and you were suddenly aware of how red he became.

"Alright--" Ellie cut in, "we're not gonna keep you any longer, teach. See ya soon!"

"Bye Ellie, bye Joel." You waved at them

You stare at the jams you pushed aside, smiling like the giddy teenage girl you once were. How far away that seemed now, after everything that happened. You snapped out of it, feeling that pain in your chest creep back up. You looked gingerly at the jams you pushed away, remembering the artistic strokes and lines of Joel's face. Oh how strong and sharp he looked. You giggled as you remembered his red face, his curled lips, his exposed collarbone, his broad shoulders. This time you didn't snap out of your sudden trance, your face getting redder at each thought you had of Joel.

Oh God, is all you can say.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Thanks for reading! Please feel free to share your thoughts or ideas, I welcome it all! Have a wonderful day :DD

[yelenasdiary]

Different Kind of Love || Part VII 2/2

Pairing: CEO! MobBoss! Natasha Romanoff x Assistant! Reader (Platonic)

Summary: Working for Natasha was never easy and being a low-level assistant for the CEO wasn’t where you thought you’d be after working your hardest for 2 years. After catching you in tears on Christmas Eve, Natasha’s cold ways start to warm up.

DARK Themes | Language Warning | DARK! Natasha | Mentions of Blood | Details of Torture | Murder | Violence | SA Mentions | Brief Mentions of Anxiety | Dark Thoughts | Mentions of Suicide | Mentions of Depression | 5K | 

Notes: Dylan’s dialog is meant to sound like how a 5-year-old would talk and his nickname is Dyl and not a misspell.

I want to give a HUGE thank you to @daddynattt for helping me so much with this last chapter! It means a lot to me and I just know my readers will also be thankful xx

Different Kind of Love Masterlist

"Are you completely sure?" Natasha asked just to assure herself she heard you correctly as you stood in front of her. "I don't want to hear a single word about it. Do it, but don't tell me when or how or where. I never, ever want to hear his name come from your mouth again" you explained, your stomach turning at the idea, knowing you just asked Natasha to murder somebody for you. 

"That fee-"

"Save it, please. By morning, I want to take my son home and you and I" you paused for a moment after cutting her off, "you are my boss, I can't get involved with this" you added. 

"Y/n, you already are" Natasha informed you, "you're asking me to k-"

"I know what I'm asking of you" you stopped her from saying that one word. "I need space from you, I need space from all of this. Please understand that I'm thankful for everything you have done for Dylan and I…but I need you to just leave us alone" 

Your words hurt Natasha deeply as she nodded slowly, losing you as her best friend wasn't something she thought about if you had ever found out about her true business. She watched you walk away before downing a shot of vodka and for the first time in her life, she hated what she did for a living. 

Morning came a moment too quickly for you, Dylan woke up with a burst of energy as he woke you from the 20-minute nap you managed to get in from overthinking all night. "Mommy!! It's breakfast time!!" He shook you the best he could with a sparkle in his eyes, "come on mommy!!" he added. 

"I'm awake, you cheeky monster!" you attacked him with kisses over his cheek just to hear his precious giggle and just for those short moments you forgot about the world, just for a moment. "Can I please have ice cream for breakfast?" Dylan asked once he had calmed down, giving you his signature baby face and puppy eyes in hopes of convincing you. "I don't think so Mr!" you smiled softly while shaking your head, "how about we go out for breakfast this morning?" you suggested. 

"Can aunty Nat come?" Dylan pouted slightly. You looked at your son and did your best to let him down easy, not wanting to worry him about anything that you knew. "She's got work today darling, so I think she's a bit busy this morning but I'm sure we can do something with her again another time" you said, brushing his messy bed hair back, "lets to pack up your toys and get home for a bath then we can go to iHop for breakfast" you added. Dylan sighed as expected when a child doesn't usually get their own way. 

You were able to get yourself and Dylan out of Natasha's condo without seeing her, telling Dylan that she would've already left for work. He was sad that he couldn't see the woman he called his aunty, and you could only hope with some deep distractions, he'd get used to her not being around much anymore. 

----

"Can I dress myself today?" Dylan asked as he played with his bath toys while you washed the shampoo from his curly locks that you adore so much. "As long as it's not summer clothing" you smiled before pouring another jug of water through his hair.

While Dylan took his time finding his own fashion statement for the day, you took a moment to tidy up your apartment and charge your mobile. It wasn't a surprise when your phone was charged enough that you had plenty of unread text messages from your mother and Natasha. You couldn't help but stare at Natasha's worried messages for a moment without thinking about what she could possibly do to Kane. Would she torture him? Or would she make it something quick and he wouldn't feel anything? You snapped out of your thoughts when a text from your mother popped up at the top of your screen.

"Honey, please call me when you can! Your father and I are worried about you xo – mom"

Feeling like a young teenager again, you did what the message said and waited patiently for your mother's voice to bring you comfort. 

"Darling! Oh my god, are you okay?!" 

"Hey mom, I'm so sorry about not being in touch. I had a work meeting come up and Dylan was up sick last night, so I haven't had a chance to look at my phone" You've never lied as well as you did just now. 

"Oh, my poor baby, is he okay?" 

"Yeah, just a little too much ice cream" you chuckled, "I was wondering, are you and dad free today for me to drop Dylan off for a few days?" You asked already knowing the answer, but you just had to be sure. 

"Of course, honey but that's a long drive, will you stay with us too?" Your mother asked in her worried tone. 

"I have a lot of work to do so I can't stay, but I promise when I come to pick him up, I'll stay for a while" 

"Is it the court stuff? Because if so, your father and I want to be there for you. We'll come stay at a hotel if you need" Your stomach dropped, and your mind instantly thought about Natasha and what she would likely be doing today. 

"It's okay mom, I would rather keep Dylan away from it all but I promise to keep you guys updated on everything" you did your best to keep a convincing tone. "We should be at yours a little after lunch time, I promised Dylan breakfast at iHop on the way" you added with a soft smile on your face. 

"Alright darling, we will make sure we have everything he needs. What does he eat? Toys he likes? Anything I can get him, I will" 

"He loves his fruit and veg so he'll love your roast dinners for sure! He loves fire trucks at the moment but I'll make sure to pack him with plenty of toys and clothing. He is allergic to honey but I'll write down what he likes and doesn't" 

"Honey? That's new" 

"Trust my son to be one with a rare allergy" you chuckled just as Dylan came out into the living room dressed in sweaters, an orange t-shirt on inside out and his firefighter helmet. You chuckled at your son who stood proudly with a smile, "I'll send you a text message when we're on our way, I love you mom" you added and hung up after your mother said she loved you too. 

"Look at you! Come here so I can fix your t-shirt" you opened your arms wide for him to come running to you and that he did. "Do you like my outfit mommy?" he asked with his smile still wide and proud, "I love it honey! We just need to get you a hoodie or jacket and you're all set" you kissed his forehead before taking off his inside out shirt to fix. "I couldn't find my red hoodie" he pouted, his favorite hoodie that you had a struggle getting it off him and into the wash. "That's because it needed a wash but it should be in the tumble dryer" you pulled the t-shirt over his head and put his helmet back on, "there you go my little fire fighter" you smiled. 

"Can we go to breakfast now mommy? Please, I'm hungry" Dylan picked at the herm of his t-shirt as if he was nervous. 

"We will, but first we need to go pack some toys and clothes. You're going to go have a big sleep over with grandma and grandpa" 

"I am?!" Dylan's eyes widened at the news with excitement, "you are buddy! Why don't you go back some of your favourite toys in your paw patrol backpack, I'll get your red hoodie from the tumble dryer and pack you some clothes" you suggested with a soft smile. Dylan nodded quickly before racing off to his room once again. 

----

Natasha knew you and Dylan were gone before she even made her way to her large kitchen, dismissing her personal chef and making herself a pot of coffee as she tried to keep herself from tearing up. Her phone buzzed with messages from Bucky asking what the plan was only made her sigh deeply. She took a shower and took a moment to clear her mind. She was going to kill somebody today and not just anybody. 

She would kill Kane in a heartbeat if it meant she still had her closest friend but the thought of not being close to you anymore dawned on her, not seeing Dylan's adorable little smile, not being able to feel like she finally made a friend on her own and not from the illegal acts of her business. 

Natasha had to remind herself why she was about to kill Kane. The hurt he brought you and your son, the fear she saw in your eyes when she read you the email he sent, the panic you had at the thought of Kane taking Dylan away from you. Knowing that since Dylan came into this world you weren't ever able to feel safe, always looking over your shoulder and wondering if you'd wake up to your son missing. All thoughts of your fears ran through Natasha's mind as she looked at herself in the mirror with a faint smirk on her lips as she felt herself soon start thinking about a world without Kane.

----

"Please stop!!" Kane begged, his face beaten and bruised and covered with his own blood. "If you're going to kill me, just do it already!" he spat with tears streaming down his face while Natasha sat down in front of him. It had been hours of harsh torture for Kane as Natasha soaked up his cries and begs to stop, she loved the sound of his life in her hands and knowing she had full control over his final moments. 

"Oh, I am going to kill you, don't worry about that" Nat winked before rolling her wrists, releasing a cracking sound. "Then what are you waiting for?! I've admitted to everything, I know I'm not leaving this hell hole alive so just do it! DO IT ALREADY!" Kane begged once more as Natasha stared him down coldly. "I like hearing you beg, it's fun. If I had it my way, I would've liked to let you go and have you look over your shoulder every fucking day wondering if anybody is watching everything you do. I'd love to keep you on your toes and tossing at night wondering if it was safe to be in your own home. But, killing you sounds just a lot better" she smirked as she leant back in her seat. 

It surprised Natasha how long Kane was able to serve the brutal torture she delivered to him. Plying most of his fingers off, breaking both of his legs with a sledgehammer, multiple stab wounds including two combat knives still stabbed through his hands that kept him even more combined to the chair he was chained too. Kane passed out a few times only for Natasha to drench him in cold, dirty water keeping him from any form of comfort. 

She could see the fear she installed in him, the loss of hope in his eyes, the trembling in his bottom lip, the shakiness in his voice, she had him right where she wanted him. Completely begging for her to end his pain. 

"You're fucking sick!" Kane threw his head back slightly, "what else do you want from me?!" he asked. 

"I already have what I wanted" Natasha chuckled leaving a smirk on her lips just before her phone broke the moment of silence between the two. Seeing your name lit up on her phone was the last thing she'd see today; Natasha left the room and took a deep breath before answering. 

"Hey" she spoke softly. 

"Don't do it, Nat! Please tell me you haven't already done it, please!"

"Woah, Y/n calm down, nothing has been done. Is everything okay? Have you changed your mind?"

"I…I want to talk to him, please" 

"Are you sure? I don't know if that's a goo-"

"Please Nat….if you're going to do it, I need to speak to him before you do it…please" you begged.

"Alright, where are you? I'll come get you" Natasha finally replied after moments of silence. 

"I just got home; Dylan is with my parents until things die down" 

"I'll be half hour, are you sure you want to do this?" Natasha asked once more. 

"I'm sure, Nat….please" you begged one last time. 

"Okay, I'll see you soon" 

"Thank you, Nat" you replied before the call hung up. 

Natasha walked into her office where Bucky had made himself a little too comfortable with a pizza and beer to keep himself 'busy' as he would say. "You're done already? I thought you would've been a lot longer" he looked up at the redhead with a cold smirk. "Y/n wants to talk to him" Nat grabbed her coat, "What?" Bucky asked in a confused tone as he quickly sat up, removing his feet from Nat's desk. 

"I'll be back. Don't let him fall asleep or die" she ordered as she grabbed her keys. 

----

The drive back to Natasha's bunker was silent. You could barely look at her, even for a second without the feeling of your stomach-turning upside down. She notices the way you couldn't stop rubbing your hands up and down the top of your thighs and the way you couldn't stop blinking or trying to swallow the lump that was stuck in your throat. 

"You don't have to do this, Y/n" Natasha broke the silence as she looked over at you for a short moment before her eyes focused on the road in front of her. "W-what?" you asked with a stutter when her voice broke you from your thoughts. Natasha pulled the car over, turned the car off and turned to you. "You don't have to do it" she repeated. 

"I do, it's something I feel I need to do before…you know" your eyes struggled to look at her for more than a second, "he needs to know what he did was wrong, and I don't mean that I don't love Dylan because I do. Without him I probably would've done something really bad" tears start to build up in your eyes, "but I've been hurting for so long and I need him to know that. This whole situation isn't how I imagined telling him, you've kil-…you did, I me"

"I know" Natasha interrupted making you look at her once again. 

"Please don't do it" the tears now streaming freely, "I can't live with the thought of it. I know you might be able too, but I can't, please" you added. Natasha nodded softly, "how can you do it? How can you live with yourself?" you asked before Natasha could open her mouth. 

"I" Natasha was speechless, she'd never thought about how she was able to torture people and take their lives without it playing on her mind. She got a kick from it all but she couldn't admit that to you, you'd think she's more than just sick. "W-what I do, what I have done…I, it's…I don't just target anybody. Everybody has something and honestly, they deserved what they got" she struggled to explain. 

"But you can't decide who lives and dies Natasha. You're a lawyer, there's rules, there are legal ways to deal with people. Kane needs prison time, nature will take its course, not you" 

"If you don't want me to do it, I won't. But I can't risk letting him free, you have to understand that" Nat reached for your hand, "you can't keep him forever" you frowned with worry as you pulled your hand away from her. 

"Y/n, I can't let him go. He'll talk and with the injuries he has, it would be believable"

"H-h…how bad have you hurt him?" You looked at her with fear while your tears kept streaming. "Can you please take my word for it?" she looked at you with pleading eyes, "I know you want to talk to him and you can but I don't want the image of him to scare you" she added.

"He's bad, isn't he?"

Natasha nodded. 

"He going to die anyway, isn't he?"

Natasha nodded once again, "I should've waited, I'm sorry" she spoke while you wiped your tears. "Let's just go before it's too late" you turned away from Natasha and kept your attention to the passenger window. 

The rest of the drive was just as silent to begin with, every now and then Natasha would look over at you and wish things were different. She wished you never found out. 

----

Natasha walked you to the room where she was keeping Kane, the only sounds that could be heard throughout her bunker were your footsteps and Bucky blasting some old radio tunes from her office. 

"Y/n, please wait" Natasha gently grabbed your hand and turned you to face her. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry that you found out about all of this. I didn't want you to know and I understand if you don't want anything to do with me again, I do but please…you're my best friend. I just want you to know that" she looked into your eyes hoping that you could see that she never meant for any of this to harm you. 

"Can you wait here? I need to talk to him alone" you replied almost shrugging off her words as she nodded. You took a moment to prepare yourself before opening the door, gasping to yourself when you saw Kane's condition. 

"Y/n?" he mumbled, covered in blood and smelt awful as you slowly turned away from the door to face him. A chair was placed in front of him, one you can only assume that Natasha used to intimidate the man. "Wh-what are you doing here? Y-you have you leave! Your b-boss, she's fucking cr-crazy!" he added in a stutter while you took small steps towards the chair. The sight of him made your eyes fill with tears once more, as much as you hated Kane, you'd never seen anybody as beaten and in pain as Kane is right now. 

"I mean it, Y/n! g-get out of here!" he choked, spitting out blood to the floor. 

"I..I need you to listen to me" you spoke as you sat down in front of him, his face swollen from the torture Natasha's fist delivered. "I'm sorry, okay?! I'm s-so, so, s-sorry! I hurt you and Dylan; I know but you h-have to get out of here! P-please!" 

"You hurt me, Kane" you ignored his pleas for you to leave, "you were my friend…I trusted you and you didn't listen to me….I said no, I begged you to stop" you added while remembering the night your life changed. 

"I k-know"

"You don't!" you spat with tears streaming down your cheeks, "you don't know! You didn't care! You laughed at me, held me down while you and your…friends…Kane, you hurt me in ways I didn't know I could be hurt. You broke my trust, my confidence, my safety net, you broke me. Do you know how scared I was when that pregnancy test came back positive? Do you know how sick I felt? Knowing that I was pregnant by one of my…r-rapists…you made me grow up when I wa-"

"Please d-don't do this"

"LISTEN!" you shouted at him, even Dylan had never been yelled at in such a high shout. "I need you to know all of this, so please…just listen!" Kane struggled to keep eye contact with you as you waited for him to response, "can you do that? Can you listen for a moment?" you asked, finally Kane nodded. 

"I had plans, I had dreams and you took all over that from me. I couldn't bear to look at my parents after finding out I was pregnant; I couldn't leave my house because of you! My father wanted to kill you himself when he found out, when my mother found me on the floor in the bathroom begging for a god to just take me, she broke. You did that! I thought about hurting myself so many times that my mother had to sleep in the same room as me because she didn't trust me, she took me to my first appointment and the moment I heard my, MY baby's heartbeat, I knew I had to be strong for him. 

Since I found out I was pregnant I wanted nothing more than to get rid of him and hope I could somehow move on. I hated knowing I had a child growing inside of me, but hearing his heartbeat I realized he didn't deserve the hate and anger I had for him. I promised him, before I found out he was a boy that no matter what was going to happen, I would love them, I would protect them and I would do anything for them. 

Dylan is MY child, MY son. He is nothing like you! He's beautiful, he's caring, he's so full of life, he reaches for the stars with everything he does! He doesn't have a bad bone in him, he once made me look after a squirrel that was hit by a car and I did it for him, to see that beautiful smile he has. So don't you ever think for a second that Dylan is your son or that you have anything to do with him. Everything Dylan is comes from me!

I kept him safe; I kept a roof over his head, I gave him everything I had while you made things harder for me. I knew the moment he was born, the second I saw him I knew that it was your DNA. But for the first time since that night, I wasn't mad, I didn't wish for a god to take me, I was happy. I had a healthy, strong and beautiful baby boy" Your eyes stared heavily into Kane's while tears had now made a river of your cheeks. 

"I want you to hurt like I did, to only see darkness, to fear everything you do! I want you to never feel safe, I want you to wonder what you might wake up too in the morning. I want all your hopes and dreams to be crushed" you added when Kane's eyes dropped to the bloody splattered floor in front of him. 

"Y/n…I…I was drunk, we all w-were. Y-you said you wa-"

"No!" you stood up, your fists in balls of anger, "Don't you ever say I asked for what you did to me! You drugged me! You forced me to say I wanted it, that I liked it! Every day I remember something from that night, and it breaks me all over again!" you added in anger before slowly sitting down again. "You're going to feel guilty, are you? You're never going to see the wrong you did, the hurt you brought, are you?" you asked. 

"You d-don't think I'm hurting?!" Kane spat, "LOOK AT ME Y/N!" He shouted, "You did THIS TO ME!" he added. His words only confirmed your thoughts, "I didn't do this" you spoke as you stood up again, "you did this" you added before making your way to the door. 

"Y/n, I'm s-sorry! Pl-please! h-help me out of h-here! I'll leave y-you and D-Dylan alone forever, I pr-promise" he begged, his injuries causing his stutter of words. His begs only got louder as you ignored him and opened the too to see Natasha and Bucky waiting outside. With one hand you did your best to wipe your tears while the over closed the door behind you, draining out Kane's begs for help. 

"Are you okay?" Natasha asked as she took a step towards you. "Just do it" you nodded before your eyes dropped to your feet, "he didn't care" you added in a mumble, your legs felt wobbly as if you were about to fall, Bucky looked at Natasha who gave you a soft nod.

"He didn't even try to care" you started to sob as you started to walk away, "I'll wait in the car" you added without looking back at Natasha. "Hey, come here" Bucky opened his arms for you, without a second thought you crashed into him and cried as he held you. 

"I've got her" Bucky mouthed to Natasha who didn't want to leave you but it was only a matter of hours before Kane's body would shut down. She nodded to Bucky and waited for him to take you out of the bunker before she entered the room where Kane's cries for help came to a stop. Nat closed the door and locked it before walking over to the countertop and picked up her favorite combat knife and began to sharpen as Kane watched in fear. 

"Please stop, I'm done okay! You win! Just fucking kill me already!" He began to cry when Natasha turned and looked at him with a dark smirk on her lips. "I already told you, I'm going to kill you but after that I think it's only fair we deal with the reason you're here in the first place, right?" she chuckled as she walked over to him, kicking his chair over. He yelled in pain as his head smacked the hard flooring, not hard enough to knock him out but enough to give him a headache later on. 

"What t-the f-uck are you doing?!" He panicked as Natasha unzipped his trousers and harshly grabbed his cock from his boxers. "No, no no! PLEASE DON'T!" Kane yelled at the top of his lungs as Nat brought her knife closer to his penis, "I told you. It's only fair we deal with that got you into this mess first, didn't I?" She looked over at him and smiled as she kept her eye contact with him while her knife made a clear slice from the base of his genitals. Blood splattered everywhere while Kane screamed in pain, almost passing out. 

"Oh, stop your fucking crying!" Natasha as she pulled Kane's chair up from the floor before dangling his penis in front of his eyes, "Y-YOU CUT OFF M-MY D-DICK?!" Kane shouted while Nat chuckled, "it's not like you're missing much" she joked as she walked back over to the countertop of weapons. Kane's penis was tossed onto the counter as if it was a useless item that Natasha couldn't care less if it broke. She put a face mask on and grabbed the blow-torch before testing its blue flame causing Kane to squirm and shout louder for help, help he knew he would never get. 

"Since you think you know how to use this ugly thing" Natasha grabbed his penis from the counter with her free hand, the blow-torch in the other as she turned around and faced her victim once again. "You can watch me destroy it" she smiled before letting the blue flame turn orange as she lit Kane's member on fire. Kane was losing blood by the second, his skin turning pale as Natasha tossed the body part in flames onto Kane's lap, he screamed and squirmed as the flames came in contact with his thighs, setting him alight. 

Natasha watched by the door as Kane's screams were something she'd never heard from anybody before, she watched as his entire body became covered in flames. She let out a deep breath and left the room and waited for his cries to stop, when she knew that Kane had finally died, she turned the roof sprinklers on putting the flames out.

----

Bucky waiting outside your apartment door, not wanting to leave you alone even though you begged him to leave and slammed the door in his face. He didn't take it personally; he knew you were going through more emotions than he could even imagine. Natasha arrived to see him guarding your door while your sobs could faintly be heard from the inside. 

"She wants to be alone" Bucky looked at Natasha, "I couldn't leave" he added. 

"Give me a moment" Nat replied in a soft tone. Unsure if it was a good idea, Bucky moved aside, and Natasha let herself into your apartment. She could hear you crying from your bedroom and slowly made her way, knocking softly on your door. You ripped the covers off from over your head and looked at Natasha with wet, puffy eyes. 

"Is he?" you asked, unable to say the word.

"He is" Natasha confirmed, "I wanted you to know. You don't have to worry about him…or me anymore" she added. Slowly you sat up still looking at her, "please stay" you spoke before Natasha could walk away, she looked at you with surprise. 

"Y-you're my best friend and friends fight, we have up and downs but…. but I love you even if right now I'm a mess and have no idea what to do. You're my best friend, Nat. I'm mad at you, I'm confused, and it might take me some time to come to terms with things, but friends fight, right?" You smiled brokenly at her. "I don't want to be alone right now, I need my best friend" you added. 

Nat smiled softly with tears of her own filling her eyes, she took her coat off and placed it on your dresser before she made herself comfortable in your bed, letting you rest your head on her shoulder. For the first time in a very, very long time Natasha felt love, a different kind of love that she didn't know she longed for. 

"I'm right here" she whispered as you cried, letting yourself let all those built-up feelings over the past 6 years out. You were free, Dylan was free, and you have Natasha, your best friend to thank.

Taglist: @marvelogic | @randomnessbecausewhynot | @blackwidow-3 | @lilsmeaux | @mmmmokdok | @wandanats-goodgirl | @toouncreativeforausername | @agent99galanzo | @marvelwomen-simp | @its-just-geek | @fxckmiup | @loneliestafterparty | @pikachooo3 | @monaekelis | 

[wjforever]

Throughout the entire series, in translation, Dongfang calls Orchid just a little flower spirit. But in the book and in the drama, he actually calls her 小花妖 Xiǎo Huāyāo a little flower demon.It starts back in the second episode, when he doesn't know her name yet. But the funny thing is that he doesn't call her that right away. Before this she forces him to return her hair, which of course impresses him. And then she begins to explain that one can't take away someone's work, thereby justifying her intention to release the criminal from the pagoda. And after that Dongfang begins to call her 小花妖 Xiǎo Huāyāo.

Of course, I wanted to learn more about this nickname in order to understand what meaning was put into these words, because he called her that until the very end, although he used it less often in the last episodes.

A few facts. The translation of the word demon in Chinese mythology is significantly different from what we are used to. By the way, the same word is called Ying Zhao. It seemed strange to me that demons turned out to be cuties, but when you learn more about the meaning of this word, you understand why you didn't perceive it quite correctly.

For us, demons and devils are more similar in meaning. If we are not talking about the Devil, then devils are the same demons. But they don't in Chinese mythology.

I copied this for you

妖 yāo - demons or alternatively translated as monsters. Born when an animal, plant, or even an inanimate object absorbs spiritual energy over a long period of time and then gains spiritual awareness. Not inherently evil, although many have antagonistic relationships with humans.

魔 mó - devils or alternatively translated as fiends. Evil spirits/creatures of remarkable power and cruelty. Similar to the demons and devils of Western mythology. In some novels, evil cultivators emulate them by practicing devilish cultivation methods and committing atrocities in their pursuit of power.

Some novels consider Demons and Devils to be a single species (妖魔 Yaomo), others as distinct species (妖族 Yao race / 魔族 Mo race).

魔 is sometimes translated as "Demon", which can be confusing at times (particularly when 妖 is also used in the novel).

However, this is not all. I dug through the material and found something interesting.

妖 yāo Initially, this is a female image. A mix of two images of a woman and a baby that are superimposed on each other. The beauty of a woman who hasn't yet submitted, the extraordinary one.

Original meaning: beautiful, magnificent. Enchanted girl, charming girl. Extended: inappropriate behavior, demonic spirit. Witchcraft, demon, magic.

The words demonic, gorgeous, beautiful are closely intertwined in the meaning of this word. This is a demoness, a witch, a sorceress.

Other translation variants are abnormal, bizarre, phenomenon, goblin, evil, magnificent, charming, fascinating.

I believe this is important that it's a female image, and not just a demon. So Dongfang admits her feminine essence.

I think that the closest thing to European culture is the image of a witch, or rather even a sorceress. Beautiful, rebellious, dangerous, powerful. Like Triss and Yennefer from the Witcher, if you're familiar with this universe.

So it's on the verge of a compliment and an insult. Some women are offended when they are called witches, while others are flattered. Maybe this is another reason why Orchid interrupts him so abruptly and tells him not to distract her. Not only because he says that she has features of the moon tribe, but also because he uses such an address to her. This is a curious question. But it's debatable.

Also, it's perceived as the opposite of a fairy. Fairy and sorceress, beautiful and sweet against beautiful but wicked.

I also found an agave plant, one of the varieties of which includes the name demon. 妖炎 (yāo yán Demon's flame). It has spikes. Considering that Orchid is a plant, this adds a new meaning, the orchid with thorns.

Anyway, it's pity that in the English version they refused to use this nickname, because I think it adds more colors to the relationship between Lanhua and Dongfang.

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[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Who I write for / what I call NHL players.....

so @stayg-0ld requested an updated verison. I made a list a while ago of players that I like, what I thought of them, and my little dumb nicknames for them. Here is the linked list if you wanna read it. But it's time for an update because I realize so many new nicknames aren't on here. So in no particular order here is a list of players I write for and what I call them depending on what's happening. Also if you are looking for pictures or things on a particular player this is also how I tag everything on my blog (minus my writings). I think I remembered everybody but there is a chance I forgot someone so I will go back and edit this as needed.

Quinn Hughes: My one true love, I don't think I can describe to you guys how much I adore this man, it's actually a little insane. As I've said before I am his number one bully and whore. His tag on my blog is #huggy bear 🐻 himself

Other nicknames include but not limited to: king, pretty boy, Quinny., eldest daughter. Shockingly I don't have a unique name for Quinn and that is honestly shocking to me.

Brock Boesar: I just find him to be a very kind dude. I also love the fact that his nickname Mr.Sensitive. I don’t post about him often, so you can look for him under his name, hopefully soon I will have time to go back and add his nickname to all posts so it would #mr.sensitive 🥺

Jack Hughes - He is growing on me more and more each day. His tag on my blog is #oh jacky boy 🥺

Other nicknames include but not limited to: my favorite fuckboy, J, sassy king, society's favorite middle child, angry white man. (okay but like that last one like tell me he isn't truly an angry white man 90 percent of the time on the ice??)

Luke Hughes - He really is just a child but I will say his hair hasn't looked as homeless lately and he really buffed up this summer, so I'm happy for the Lukey girlies. I tried looking and I don't think he has a tag on my page...

His nicknames include: homeless boy, Lukey, savage. (no I don't feel the need to explain any of them.)

Nico Hischier - I feel like I am constantly talking about this man so I won't bore you all with the details. His tag on my blog is #my little european king.

His other nicknames include: pretty boy, and swiss king.

John Marino - It physically pained me to make his name blue just now. 😭 I don't think I can even explain how much I adore this man. Like out of every player (Quinn included) I would love to have lunch with John once. Like I wanna sit down and hear all his thoughts on the Devils, especially the Hughes because I know he used is almost psychology degree to use and psychoanalyzed all of them. I also have used all my knowledge to psychoanalyze all of them and I would love to compare notes. I also think he is closet to my personality like not quite an extraverted but also not introverted. His tag on my blog is #mr.harvard man himself

His other nicknames I call him in no particular order are johnny boy, city man or city boy, east coast king, boston boy.

Cole Caufield - I could talk about this man for days. Cole holds a very dear place in my heart, he's truly a golden retriever. Cole would definitely call his girlfriend mamas. He also gives very big bi energy to me and I can't really explain it. I also ship him with Trevor Zegras like I am CONVINCED something happened when they were on the U.S development team together and I could write an essay about that if asked. His tag on my blog is # my lil bi' baby 🏳️‍🌈

I also sometimes call him baby boy, pretty boy (yes I am refusing nicknames sue me), my little short king. (I do have that as a tag as well on my page but it has multiple people in it.)

Trevor Zegras: I will write for Trevor, I have talked about my many thoughts on this man before. But when I write for him he doesn’t have a Mohawk in my brain. 🤣 like I am probably number one hater for his new hair, and if their are no haters left on this planet it is because I am dead.

Arber Xhekaj: I recently discovered Arber and I don’t think he has a nickname yet on my blog. When he gets one I will be sure to update my tag list. But I do find this man adorable, he seems like a kind guy despite how he acts on the ice…

————————————————————————

Players I won’t write for because THEY ARE CHILDREN. But I do occasionally post about.

Beckett Sennecke - his nickname and tag under my blog is both # my lil baby ducklin 🐥

Macklin Celebrini - his name name is baby shark. But I also call him Canucks number 1 fan. (If you know you know)

Arturs Silovs - his nickname is baby goalie and that is also his tag. (Yes I realize his nickname isn’t that orginal sue me)

Connor Bedard - Connor literally got added today and due to his first fight the other day. His nickname and also tag is #my lil scraper, you know since he’s a fighter now. 😂

[atlantis-just-drowned]

Hello good day/night! can I have a request where how is it like to be in a relationship with Duke? :33

Duke x reader relationship headcanons

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Masterlist

• Oh gosh PREPARE YOURSELF

• Expect a lot of teasing (and I do mean a lot)

• He just can't help but to love making you blush and laugh, please laugh at his teases he's living for your laugh

• He'll probably call you "chérie" and will refuse to tell you what it means

• He won't stop using that nickname. Ever.

• If you're Not French, other nicknames will include any affectionate French words that you don't understand. He will straight up stop calling you "mon amour" if you tell him you know what it means.

• However if you're A French he'll absolutely use any affectionate nickname he can think about and use this advantage to say out loud the flirtiest things ever because he knows you'll be the only one to understand.

• Wants your attention ALL THE TIME. Your eyes must be on him and him only. You're having a long and boring conversation with someone else? Oh well would you look at that, a coin just appeared behind your ear, isn't that fun!

• Duke will spend his time doing magic tricks on you. Absolutely any of your belongings will disappear and reappear at some point. Coins everywhere. Cards sometimes, even.

• If you have the silliest, tiniest bit of a plan, he's in it. If he has a plan, you're in it too, whether you like it or not. The moment he asks you out he wants to be involved in all of your deeds.

• Absolutely. Everyone. Is well aware that you are his partner. He makes it INCREDIBLY obvious. He wraps his arms around you whenever he feels like it. He kisses/pinches/pokes your cheeks. He plays with your hands.

• The AMOUNT of PDA I swear. You might even both earn some demerits because of it.

• This man has too much energy. He'll tickle you and annoy you like an overjoyed puppy until you play along with him.

• On a more general tone, he'd be open to a poly relationship. Being in a polycule wouldn't bother him at all. But he won't mind either if you want your relationship to be exclusive.

• Duke will probably hurt your feelings accidentally quite a few times, but he's very light-hearted and will say sorry as soon as he notices.

• Wants his friends to know you. He will try to involve the rest of the Misfits in both of you's deeds. He wants them to appreciate you almost as much as he does.

• But only almost, because you stay his favorite and no one else's.

• Every time something intrigues him and/or confuses him, he'll just ask you why it is this way until the thing actually makes sense to him. If you're unable to provide a logical explanation, he will break it. Or at least he'll try to.

• He functions based on logic. If something smells like too much trouble to you, you'll have to explain why to him with logical, point-by-point arguments. Don't try any argument based on feelings rather than facts because anything along the lines of "I can feel this will turn out bad" has little to no importance in his eyes.

• Seriousness is not his default vibe. If he goes serious it means he's really concerned or pissed off about something. If he's speaking to you about it he'll still try to slide a few jokes in the same time tho.

• If you ever need to lie about something, just let him speak and play along with whatever he comes up with. Duke is an excellent actor, which means he's also an excellent liar. And gods know he likes to use this ability to impress you get you out of troubles.