#I don’t know if I’m making sense here

[pucksandpower]

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chef!Max Verstappen x vegan!Reader

Summary: in which an unstoppable force (the stubborn Michelin-starred chef of a glitzy steakhouse) meets an immovable object (the vegan just looking for something she can actually eat) … and the rest, as they say, is history

The steakhouse is packed, the ambient light just dim enough to cast a flattering glow over everyone at the long wooden table. Glasses clink together in a chorus of celebration, laughter, and conversation filling the air as your friends lean in close to chat. The table is filled with shared appetizers — charred octopus, beef tallow truffle fries, the occasional bacon-wrapped date — but you’re preoccupied with the thick menu in your hand.

“What’s good here?” You ask, keeping your voice casual. But inside, you’re already scanning for the little green leaf symbols that typically offer you some respite. There’s not a single one. It’s all meat, meat, meat.

“Everything,” someone pipes up. “But definitely the steak.”

You give them a polite smile, already sensing the dilemma growing in your chest. You could’ve sworn someone mentioned the place had plant-based options. But this is a Michelin-starred steakhouse — it seems like steak is the only thing anyone’s interested in tonight.

“Anything catching your eye?” You friend across the table asks, eyes bright with excitement.

“Not exactly.” You chew on your lip, setting the menu down. “I’m, uh, vegan.”

A silence falls over your corner of the table, the chatter continuing elsewhere as your friends stare at you. You feel your cheeks heat up, the familiar twinge of anxiety flaring up as you mentally prepare for the usual questions.

“Vegan? Seriously?” One of them finally says, brow furrowing. “You’re in the wrong place for that.”

“Yeah, it’s just ... it’s my thing, you know?” You laugh lightly, hoping to defuse the situation. “I’m sure they can whip something up in the kitchen, right?”

“I don’t know, this place is pretty strict,” another friend comments, glancing towards the kitchen doors as if expecting a sous-chef to pop out and reprimand you. “But you could ask.”

You take a breath, nodding. “Yeah, I’ll ask.”

The waiter approaches, a polished smile on his face as he sets down more drinks and asks if you’ve made any decisions. You tilt your head, giving him a hopeful look.

“I was wondering if the kitchen could prepare something vegan?” You say, your voice steady but polite. “I didn’t see anything on the menu, and-”

“I’ll ask the chef,” he cuts in smoothly, though there’s a slight twitch in his jaw as he scribbles something in his notepad. “One moment.”

As he disappears towards the back, your friends exchange wary glances. You try to brush it off with another easy smile, though your nerves are prickling beneath the surface.

“This could be interesting,” someone says, raising their eyebrows. “Michelin-starred chefs aren’t exactly known for accommodating special requests.”

“Yeah, well, I’m hoping this one’s different,” you say, half-joking, though you can’t shake the knot in your stomach.

The seconds tick by, each one dragging out longer than the last. You sip at your water, making small talk, but your mind is already in the kitchen, imagining what kind of chef you’re dealing with. When the kitchen doors finally swing open, you feel a flutter of anxiety — and maybe a little curiosity.

He’s not what you expect.

Max Verstappen storms out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel with an intensity that makes the air crackle around him. His blue eyes are sharp, his jaw tight, and there’s a heat in his expression that has nothing to do with the stoves behind him. He’s annoyed. No, more than annoyed — he’s furious.

And when he locks eyes with you, you feel like the world narrows down to just the two of you.

“Who asked for vegan?” His voice is clipped, Dutch accent thick, and it’s obvious he’s not here to make friends. Your friends glance between the two of you, sensing the impending storm, but you lift your chin, refusing to be intimidated.

“I did,” you say, matching his intensity with your own steady gaze. “Is that a problem?”

Max narrows his eyes, like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. “This is a steakhouse,” he says slowly, as if explaining something very simple to a child. “A Michelin-starred steakhouse. I don’t make rabbit food.”

“Then maybe tonight you could make an exception,” you reply, keeping your tone even but firm. “I’m sure a chef of your caliber could whip something up.”

A scoff escapes him, and for a moment, you think he’s about to walk away. But instead, he steps closer, the heat of his presence almost tangible. “You think I’m going to ruin my kitchen with tofu or whatever it is you people eat?”

You blink at him, thrown off balance for a second by the sheer force of his disdain. But you gather yourself quickly, leaning forward slightly. “So you’re saying you can’t do it? That it’s too much for you?”

The challenge hangs in the air between you, thick with tension. Max’s jaw clenches, his eyes sparking with something dangerous. But then, to your surprise, he laughs — a short, harsh sound that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m not making you anything,” he says, finality in his voice. “You should’ve picked a different restaurant.”

“Maybe I would have, if I’d known the chef had such limited skills,” you retort, not backing down.

His eyes darken, and for a moment, you think you’ve gone too far. But then, something shifts. The anger in his expression falters, replaced by something else — something almost amused.

“You’re really pushing it,” he mutters, but there’s a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You feel a strange thrill at that, your pulse quickening. “I’m just asking you to do your job. Isn’t a good chef supposed to cater to all his customers?”

“A good chef is supposed to maintain the integrity of his menu,” he shoots back. “Not cater to every whim that walks through the door.”

“Maybe a great chef can do both,” you say quietly, watching him closely.

For a long moment, he just stares at you, his gaze intense and unreadable. You’re not sure what you expect him to do next — yell, walk away, maybe call security to kick you out — but what happens is the last thing you expect.

He leans in even closer, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

“Not particularly,” you reply, heart pounding. “I just know what I want.”

Max holds your gaze for a moment longer, then straightens up, tossing the towel over his shoulder. “You’re not going to win this,” he says, but there’s a hint of something in his voice — a challenge, maybe.

“We’ll see about that,” you reply, giving him a small, almost defiant smile.

He doesn’t smile back, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes, something that makes your breath catch in your throat. Without another word, he turns on his heel and heads back to the kitchen, the doors swinging shut behind him with a decisive thud.

The table is silent for a moment, everyone exchanging wide-eyed looks as if they can’t believe what just happened. Your heart is still racing, your mind replaying the exchange over and over, analyzing every word, every glance.

“Did you just ...��� one of your friends starts, trailing off in disbelief.

“I think I did,” you reply, a bit dazed yourself. But beneath the shock, there’s a strange sense of satisfaction. You’re not sure what it is — maybe the fact that you stood your ground, or maybe it’s something else, something about the way Max looked at you in those final moments.

Whatever it is, it leaves you feeling more alive than you have in a long time.

“Okay, that was intense,” someone else says, still staring at the kitchen doors. “Are you sure you want to keep pushing him?”

You take a breath, letting the adrenaline course through you. “Yeah. I think I do.”

“Good luck with that,” another friend mutters, though there’s a hint of admiration in their voice.

You don’t need luck, though. Not with this. There’s something about Max — something infuriating and fascinating all at once — that makes you want to see how far you can push him, how much he can take before he cracks. You’re not even sure what you’re aiming for — his respect, his irritation, or something else entirely — but you know you’re not backing down.

The minutes pass, and the chatter around the table picks up again, though you can tell everyone’s still on edge, waiting to see if Max will come back. You sip your water, trying to calm the lingering buzz of energy in your veins. Part of you wonders if you’ve made a mistake, if you’ve pushed too far, but another part — a bigger part — knows that this is exactly where you need to be.

When the kitchen doors finally swing open again, the table falls silent once more. Max strides out, his expression unreadable, and heads straight for you. He doesn’t have a plate in his hands, and for a moment, your heart sinks, thinking he’s come out just to reiterate his refusal.

But instead, he stops in front of you, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re really not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” you say, meeting his gaze steadily. “I’m not.”

He studies you for a long moment, his blue eyes piercing. Then, to your surprise, he sighs — a heavy, resigned sound.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” he mutters, shaking his head slightly.

“So I’ve been told,” you reply, lifting an eyebrow.

He lets out a low, frustrated growl, but you can see the ghost of a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. The tension between you is still palpable, but it’s shifted — softened in a way that neither of you acknowledges.

“All right,” he finally says, his tone somewhere between exasperation and something almost like admiration. “I’ll make you something.”

Your friends exchange surprised glances, but you keep your gaze locked on Max, not letting yourself get too excited just yet. “You don’t have to,” you say, though the look in your eyes says otherwise.

“I’m doing this once,” he warns, pointing a finger at you like it’s some kind of punishment. “And if you don’t like it, you’re not getting a refund.”

You bite back a smile. “Deal.”

He narrows his eyes at you one last time before turning on his heel and heading back to the kitchen. The doors swing shut behind him, and this time, the silence at the table is charged with something new — something like disbelief, mingled with anticipation.

“What just happened?” Someone finally asks, breaking the spell.

“I think Max Verstappen just agreed to make a vegan dish,” you say, a touch of incredulity in your own voice.

“That’s got to be a first,” another friend chimes in, shaking their head. “You’ve got some kind of magic power.”

You laugh, the sound lighter than it’s been all night. “I don’t know about that. I think he just likes a challenge.”

“Or maybe he just likes you,” one of them says, waggling their eyebrows suggestively.

You roll your eyes, though a part of you wonders. There was something in the way he looked at you — something beyond just irritation. But you push the thought aside. Whatever this is, it’s not something you can figure out in the middle of a crowded steakhouse.

The minutes tick by, and though the conversation at the table picks up again, you can feel the undercurrent of curiosity running through your friends. They’re all waiting to see what Max will come up with, and honestly, so are you. The anticipation builds, your mind racing with possibilities — what could a Michelin-starred chef possibly make that’s both vegan and up to his standards?

When Max finally reappears, he’s carrying a single plate in his hands. He walks with purpose, his expression serious, but there’s a glint in his eyes that wasn’t there before. As he approaches, the table falls silent again, everyone leaning in to see what he’s brought.

He stops in front of you, holding out the plate with a sort of grudging respect. “Here,” he says simply.

You look down at the dish and feel your breath catch. It’s stunning — an artful arrangement of roasted vegetables, grains, and a vibrant sauce that you can’t quite place. It’s clear that he didn’t just throw something together — he put thought into this. Care, even.

“This looks amazing,” you say, genuine awe in your voice.

Max shrugs, though you can see the faintest hint of pride in his expression. “I told you — just this once. Don’t get used to it.”

You give him a small smile, something warm blooming in your chest. “Thank you.”

He nods, but before he can turn away, you add, “I’m serious. It really means a lot that you did this.”

For a moment, his eyes soften, and you see a flicker of something vulnerable beneath his tough exterior. But then he smirks, the mask slipping back into place. “You’re just lucky I’m in a good mood.”

“Is that what this is?” You tease, raising an eyebrow.

He doesn’t answer, just gives you a look that says more than words ever could. Then, with a final nod, he heads back to the kitchen, leaving you with the dish in front of you and the lingering feeling that something significant just happened.

You take a bite, and it’s even better than it looks. The flavors burst on your tongue, rich and complex, and you can’t help but smile. This is more than just food — it’s a statement, a challenge met and won.

The rest of the meal passes in a blur. Your friends order their steaks, and while they rave about their meals, you’re completely absorbed in your own, savoring every bite. You can’t help but steal glances towards the kitchen every now and then, wondering if Max is watching, if he’s thinking about you as much as you’re thinking about him.

By the time dessert rolls around, you’re almost too full to eat another bite. But when the waiter places a plate in front of you, you freeze.

It’s a small, delicate dessert — something that looks like a cross between a tart and a cake, with a perfectly smooth layer of chocolate ganache on top. But that’s not what catches your attention. Written in dark chocolate sauce across the edge of the plate, in neat, precise handwriting, is a phone number.

You blink, staring at it, your heart skipping a beat. Your friends lean in, catching sight of it as well, and their reactions range from gasps to stifled laughter.

“No way,” someone whispers, eyes wide with disbelief.

You can hardly believe it yourself. But there it is — clear as day, an unmistakable invitation.

You glance towards the kitchen, and just as you do, the doors swing open again. Max steps out, catching your eye from across the room. For a moment, the world seems to narrow down to just the two of you again, the noise and bustle of the restaurant fading into the background.

He gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod — an acknowledgment, a dare. Then, without waiting for a response, he turns and disappears back into the kitchen, leaving you with your friends and the plate in front of you.

“Are you going to call him?” One of them asks, their voice tinged with excitement.

You stare at the number, feeling a rush of adrenaline. “I don’t know,” you admit, though a smile is already spreading across your face.

But deep down, you do know. Because this — this little gesture, this playful challenge — feels like the start of something. Something you’re not quite ready to let go of.

You pick up your fork, take a bite of the dessert, and let the sweetness melt on your tongue. It’s perfect — just like everything else he’s made tonight. And as you savor the taste, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this is the beginning of something far more interesting than you ever expected.

***

The kitchen is filled with the scent of something sweet and savory, a blend of spices and roasted vegetables that wafts through the house and wraps around you like a warm blanket. You’re perched on a barstool at the kitchen island, one hand absentmindedly resting on your growing belly, the other holding a glass of freshly squeezed juice that Max insisted you drink, despite your protests that you were perfectly fine with water.

“You need the vitamins,” he had said, the Dutch accent that once made you bristle now soothing in its familiarity.

“Max, it’s fine,” you replied, but he had just given you that look — the one that says he’s not backing down — and you relented with a sigh, knowing there was no point in arguing.

Now, you watch as he moves around the kitchen with a practiced ease, his hands deftly chopping, stirring, and seasoning. It’s a sight you’ve grown accustomed to over the years, but it never fails to fill you with a mix of awe and gratitude. He’s changed so much since that night at the steakhouse, when he’d been all sharp edges and stubborn pride. Now, those edges have softened, replaced by a quiet determination to make you happy in every way he can.

“How’s it coming along?” You ask, taking another sip of juice and trying to ignore the flutter of excitement in your stomach that has nothing to do with the baby.

“Almost done,” Max replies, glancing up at you with a smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “Patience, liefje.”

“You know I’m not good at that,” you tease, leaning forward to try and catch a glimpse of what he’s cooking.

He chuckles, shaking his head as he continues to stir the pot on the stove. “I know. That’s why I’m hurrying.”

You can’t help but smile at that, the warmth of his words spreading through you like a comforting embrace. It’s moments like this that make you realize just how lucky you are — how much you’ve both grown together, built a life together. It hasn’t always been easy, but it’s been worth it.

“What are you making, anyway?” You ask, your curiosity getting the better of you.

He gives you a sly look, his lips curling into a smirk. “You’ll see.”

You groan, rolling your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he retorts, his voice full of playful confidence.

“Unfortunately, yes,” you admit with a mock sigh, though the smile on your face gives you away.

He laughs softly, the sound deep and full of affection. “Good thing, too.”

You watch him for a moment longer, your heart swelling with a mixture of love and contentment. He’s wearing an apron over his casual clothes, his hair slightly tousled from the steam rising off the stove. There’s something almost domestic about the whole scene, but it’s more than that—it’s the intimacy of knowing someone so well, of sharing your life with them in all its messy, beautiful complexity.

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” You ask, your voice softening.

Max glances at you, his expression tender. “Not today.”

“Well, you are,” you say, feeling a sudden rush of emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He pauses, the spoon in his hand hovering over the pot as he looks at you with an intensity that makes your breath catch. “You won’t ever have to find out,” he says quietly, his voice laced with a promise.

For a moment, you just stare at each other, the weight of his words settling over you like a warm blanket. It’s not the first time he’s said something like that, but it never fails to hit you with the same force, the same certainty that you’ve found something rare and precious in each other.

Before you can respond, he turns back to the stove, breaking the moment with a casualness that belies the depth of what was just said. “Besides,” he adds, a hint of mischief creeping into his tone, “I’m pretty sure you’d starve without me.”

You laugh, the sound a little shaky as you try to regain your composure. “You’re probably right. But I’d find a way.”

“Not as well as I do,” he counters, his voice filled with mock arrogance.

“True,” you admit, watching him with a smile. “You’ve ruined me for all other chefs.”

“Good,” he says, the pride in his voice unmistakable. “That was the plan.”

You shake your head, but you can’t help the warmth that spreads through you. He’s always been confident, sometimes to the point of being infuriating, but there’s a sincerity to it now that wasn’t there before—a genuine desire to take care of you, to be there for you in every way.

“Are you going to let me taste whatever masterpiece you’re working on, or do I have to wait until it’s perfect?” You ask, trying to peek over the counter again.

“Patience,” he repeats, though there’s a glint in his eye that tells you he’s enjoying this far too much.

“Max,” you whine, drawing out the syllable in a way that you know he can’t resist.

He sighs dramatically, as if you’ve just asked him to perform some Herculean task, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “Fine. But just a taste.”

He picks up a small spoon and dips it into the pot, then turns and walks over to you, holding it out with a flourish. “Here.”

You take the spoon from him, your curiosity piqued. The aroma is intoxicating, and when you bring the spoon to your lips, the flavors explode on your tongue — rich, savory, with a hint of sweetness that lingers just long enough to make you want more.

“Oh my god,” you say around the mouthful, your eyes widening in surprise. “This is amazing.”

“I know,” he says, clearly pleased with himself as he leans back against the counter, crossing his arms. “I had to do something special for my girls.”

You swallow, the warmth of his words spreading through you like a soft, gentle wave. “Girls, huh?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. “So you’re still convinced it’s a girl?”

He shrugs, but there’s a softness in his expression that makes your heart swell. “Just a feeling.”

You smile, resting a hand on your belly. “Well, I’m sure she’ll love whatever you cook for her.”

“She better,” he replies, though his voice is teasing. “Or I’m sending her back.”

You laugh, the sound filling the kitchen and easing the last remnants of tension in the air. “Too late for that.”

“Damn,” he mutters, but there’s a smile on his face as he turns back to the stove, stirring the pot with practiced ease. “Guess we’ll just have to keep trying.”

You watch him for a moment, your heart full to bursting with affection. He’s taken to this whole thing — pregnancy, impending fatherhood — with a kind of devotion that you never expected, but that somehow doesn’t surprise you at all. He’s always been all in, whether it’s in the kitchen or in your relationship. It’s one of the things you love most about him — that relentless drive to be the best, to give his all, no matter what.

“You’re going to be a great dad,” you say softly, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Max pauses, his hand stilling on the spoon. For a moment, he just stands there, his back to you, and you wonder if you’ve said the wrong thing, if maybe it’s too soon, too much. But then he turns, and the look on his face — full of vulnerability and determination — takes your breath away.

“I’m going to try,” he says, his voice low but steady. “I promise.”

You nod, unable to find the words to respond. Instead, you reach out, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it gently. He squeezes back, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture that’s so simple, so familiar, and yet it says everything you need to hear.

“Okay,” he says after a moment, clearing his throat and breaking the spell. “I’ve got something else for you.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “What is it?”

He smirks, pulling his hand away and turning back to the counter. “Just wait.”

You watch as he opens the fridge and pulls out a small tray, carefully covered with a cloth. He sets it on the counter and, with a dramatic flourish, pulls the cloth away to reveal ... a plate of beautifully arranged pastries, each one delicately shaped and glistening with a light dusting of powdered sugar.

“Vegan croissants,” he says, a note of pride in his voice. “Made from scratch.”

Your jaw drops, and you stare at the pastries in disbelief. “You made these?”

“Of course,” he replies, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I told you I’d figure it out.”

You’re speechless, the effort and care he’s put into this gesture rendering you momentarily stunned. You know how much work goes into making croissants, and the fact that he’s done it just to satisfy your cravings — it’s almost too much.

“Max,” you say, your voice thick with emotion, “you didn’t have to do this.”

He shrugs, though there’s a hint of bashfulness in his expression. “I wanted to.”

You reach out, picking up one of the croissants and holding it in your hands like it’s something precious. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“I try,” he says with a smirk, watching as you take a tentative bite of the croissant.

The layers are perfectly flaky, the pastry light and buttery despite being vegan. It melts in your mouth, and you close your eyes, savoring the taste. “This is ... incredible,” you murmur, barely able to believe how good it is.

Max’s smirk softens into a genuine smile. “I’m glad you like it.”

You take another bite, unable to stop yourself from grinning. “I don’t just like it, Max. I love it.”

He chuckles, leaning against the counter with an air of satisfaction. “Good. But don’t go telling anyone, okay? You’re still the only person I’d cook vegan for.”

You laugh, a sound full of love and warmth. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

He winks, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Better be. I’ve got a reputation to uphold, you know.”

You shake your head, your heart full as you look at the man you married — the man who, despite all his bravado, has always made you feel like the most important person in his world. “You’re impossible,” you say fondly.

“And you love it,” he replies, his voice softening as he reaches out to gently cup your cheek.

“I really do,” you whisper, leaning into his touch.

Max leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. When he pulls back, there’s a softness in his eyes that makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world.

“I love you,” he says, his voice steady and sure.

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice thick with emotion.

And as you sit there together, the scent of freshly baked croissants filling the air, you can’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. Life might not always be easy, but with Max by your side — cooking for you, joking with you, loving you — you know you’ll always have a reason to smile, no matter what comes your way.

[crystal-blue-purrsuasion]

I actually disagree here, I’ve gotten tattoos I regret and usually I love them more even if they turn out to be inaccurate.

Like, I understand the depth of Hamilton’s faults, but I’m still happy with my Hamilton gradient, especiallly since i found out how good yellow is on my skin.

The exception is my first tattoo, the glasses and scar, which i got at the tattoo shop in Universal. It’s a wonderful memory, but I’m going to modify it to something else as soon as i know what. That’s a different vibe than Hamilton, which I enjoy even with its faults, so I think that’s why

I should point out that I’m well-educated (thanks to loans, oops) but not working in my field. I’m in a place where i don’t have to deal with the ramifications of having tattoos (office setting, family, etc).

But other than that, it’s pretty cool to treat my body as a living document, if that makes sense?

in general i dont think fandom tattoos are a bad idea but i think u need to at least give yourself like a two year buffer from the end of that piece of media before you commit. like if someone told me "yeah im obsessed with hazbin hotel rn so im gonna get a hazbin hotel tattoo" id be like woah okay maybe put a pin in that idea for later. but if someone told me "yeah i read homestuck in its prime and i still love it so im gonna get a homestuck tattoo" id be like well fair enough its been like eight years. if you still like it now you'll probably still have fond memories of it in 20 years. you do you.

[angelichannie]

Hello again angelichannie~ i'm the one who requested for svt fallin in love and i so enjoyed it! 🥰

If I may request again... another fluff how you think ot13 would be like when they're jealous but they're not in a relationship yet w the reader?

I'm enjoying your writing sm, thank you! 😘

Seventeen being jealous but they aren’t dating you

genre:fluff

Seungcheol: he’d act like it didn’t affect him. He’d sit back, run his hands through his hair as he watches you laugh with your other guy friend. His sweet smile masking the flames burning inside of him.

Jeonghan: Always making everything a competition. “Who do you like more, him or me?”

Joshua: “Shua! That super hot guy just asked for my number!” You’d scream. His face would heat up immediately. “You didn’t give him it did you?” He’d say. “He’s not even hot! You can do so much better”

Junhui: he’d get so huffy about the little things. “Why did you go to the park with that guy? That’s OUR park”

Soonyoung: he’d do everything he possibly could to keep you entertained. He’s not trying to be rude, but he wouldn’t hesitate to butt in a conversation if he thought you were laughing a little too much.

Wonwoo: “can we get out of here?” He’d say, dragging you away from the social setting you were currently in. He’d blame it on being tired, but he knows it’s because that guy from the bar was getting too close to you. “Let’s just go back to mine”

Jihoon: he’d deny it soooooo much. “Of course I’m not jealous, why would i be? I’m just… looking out for you” his cheeks getting increasingly red as he spoke on.

Seokmin: oh he would sulk for sure. “No no I’m fine, just go hang out with that guy. You seem to find him funnier than me anyway..”

Mingyu: “no im not jealous… ok fine im jealous”

Minghao: he’d be hurt, but he wouldn’t want to show it, much like Seungcheol. But he’d also feel a sense of guilt. Why is he getting jealous, you’re not even his?

Seungkwan: POUTY BOO! He would watch you from a distance, laughing with another guy and pouting to himself, wishing it was him.

Hansol: he would try and hide it by acting a little colder toward you. He probably wouldn’t realise, and he wouldn’t mean any harm. He’d probably just think you weren’t interested :(

Chan: he’d definitely grumble about it. “Why don’t you go talk to that guy over there, you seemed to really like him”

A/N:

thank you for your request lovely! Sorry I’ve been missing in action, I hope you like it! <3

[greengoblinswifey]

Revenge—Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— Nicholas gets fired and as an act of revenge, fucks you, his boss’ daughter and sends it to him. based on this request.

warnings— daddy kink, exhibitionism, degradation, praise kink, fingering, face fucking, face slapping, ass slapping, choking, manipulation, recording sex, revenge porn, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink.

a/n— enjoy this as I take a break from spiraling!

The city below bustled faintly as you sat perched on your father’s desk in his office. He would probably freak seeing you sit on the place he did his work and have his meetings but what he didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.

Daddy dearest was away having meetings all morning so being the heir to his empire, you were left in charge of affairs until he returned. The only ‘affairs’ you handled were typing away on your phone combatting your friend’s comments of you being a ‘nepo baby’ and sitting on your father’s desk as if you owned the place. Well, in just a few years you would.

A knock on the large glass door startled you, and you shouted a “Come in!” to indicate to whoever was stood outside could enter. You didn’t even bother to look up from your phone until you heard a deep voice greet you.

Shoes clicked faintly on the glistening tiles after you heard the door shut behind them. “Uh, good morning,” the deep voice said. As you looked up, your jaw fell slightly agape.

Standing a few feet away was nothing short of a Greek God. He was tall, muscles bulging from the tailored suit he was clad in, hair tousled but still neat and dark, beautiful eyes. You were sucker for men’s eyes right after their height.

“It’s afternoon, and s-same to you.” Your voice faltered as the man inched closer with a box in his hands.

His lips pressed together before he gave a tight lipped smile. “Sorry, a lot on my mind. Is your father in the building?”

You shook your head slowly, your eyes raking over his form as his went over yours, only more subtly. “He’s not. You’ll have to speak to me about whatever concerns you have.”

He sighed shaking his head, clearly annoyed but attempting to keep his composure. “Well, I’m just returning these last set of papers and items since your father fired me.”

“Fired you?” Your right eyebrow arched, confusion swirling your mind. How could your father ever fire someone so good looking. He was perfect. “Sit down, tell me what happened,” you continued, sweetly.

He placed the box at his feet and sat on the leather couch positioned right in front of you. With the way you were positioned, one wrong move and he would see the red and black thong barely covering your pussy.

“My name’s Nicholas Chavez,” he started. Nicholas, you could definitely moan that. “I was fired yesterday with no plausible explanation other than budget cuts. I mean no disrespect when I say this but that makes no fucking sense. I’ve worked harder than almost everyone here. I arrive on time and I leave later than everyone else. I’ve given my all to this company and this is how your father repays me?” He was angry, no doubt, and you couldn’t help the pang of guilt and sympathy you felt for him.

“I’m so sorry,” you began, titling your head and biting your lips absentmindedly, though the action didn’t go unnoticed by Nicholas. “I’ll talk to daddy for you, that’s so unfair.”

“Thank you, Y/N, but I don’t think you can change his mind,” he huffed.

Clearly, Nicholas wasn’t aware of the strong hold you had on your father. In his eyes, you could do no wrong. All you had to do was pout and give him those big doe eyes and whatever wish you had would be granted.

You slid off the table seductively and sat beside him, a hand teasingly rubbing his thigh. “It’s gonna be okay, I’ll talk to him and change his mind. Is there anything else you want to get off your chest? Anything I can do to help? You batted your long eyelashes, hand still rubbing his thigh as you felt him relax under your touch.

He turned to look at you, eyes darting to stare at your bare thighs then your lips. “Anything huh?” You nodded slowly, and he inched closer to you. As he spoke, you could feel his warm breath on your face.

“You have the face of an angel and the body of a porn star. I bet after I’m finished with you, I could turn you into one—if you let me.” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them and you tried to speak but no sound came out.

What were you doing? Your father didn’t send you here for his ex-employees to speak to you as though you were a piece of meat. But you couldn’t deny, his words left you soaked and eager.

“Not so bold now, are you?” He chuckled darkly, a hand somehow finding its way around your neck as he forced you to look at him. “You’ve been eyeing me since the moment I walked in. You’re a slut, you want this.”

“Nicholas, my father—”

He interjected before you could continue. “Sweetheart, your father isn’t here. That means I can have my way with you and show him he can’t fucking fire me and get away with it.”

He stood, pulling you up by your neck firmly but gently and put you to sit on the desk in the same position he first saw you. An involuntary gasp escaped your lips as his wet tongue slid from your neck up to your ear.

“Fuck, m’gonna have so much fun with you. You’re gonna let me right? You asked if there’s anything you can do to help. This is it.”

Before you could retort, his lips crashed against yours, claiming you in a deep, all consuming kiss. His hand remained around your neck while the other roamed your body, groping your tits before settling on your thigh.

“Fuck, you’re a dream,” he muttered, pulling away just enough to stare at your swollen lips.

“W-we shouldn’t,” you finally managed to say, breath heaving from the intensity of the kiss.

He licked his lips before looking down at the unmistakable sight of you clenching your thighs. “Oh sweetheart, you know we should. Why else would you be clenching your thighs? Now say it.”

Your breathing grew heavier as he pried open your legs, fingers finding your flimsy thong before he ripped it off.

“We should.” Your voice cracked as the cool air from the air conditioner in the office hit your pussy. A smug smirk plastered on Nicholas’ face, his eyes locked on yours while his fingers inched higher until they reached your pussy.

“God, you’re such a slut. You’re soaked,” he chuckled.

Your hand gripped his bicep as two fingers found your heat, giving you no time to adjust. They worked with precision immediately, thrusting and curling as you were forced to look into his dark eyes.

“You’re so fucking tight baby,” he cooed, his fingers speeding up. You didn’t want to admit you were enjoying this but the sound your pussy was making gave you all the confirmation you needed.

Despite your efforts, you let out a low moan the second his thumb connected pressed against clit. His double efforts had you squirming on the table, your legs shaking as his fingers curled then sped up.

“You love this. What would daddy dearest think seeing his slutty daughter get used?”

Before you could stop yourself, you let out a cry, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train as you soaked his fingers and the desk below.

“Fucking hell. Did you really just squirt from me fingering you on your dad’s desk. Oh I’m gonna have so much fun with a slut like you.” His words made you shiver and your head lulled on his shoulder, shame filling you but he wasn’t finished yet. Not even close.

He grabbed you by the hair, pulling you off the desk and shoving you onto your knees. “Unbuckle my belt,” he uttered, tone low and commanding. Your shaky hands went to his pants, unbuckling the belt slowly. You pulled his pants down, eyes widening at the large dent in his boxers. He was hard.

“I didn’t tell you to pull my pants down but since you’re so eager, take my dick out and suck it.” Manipulation was doused in his words but at that point, you didn’t care. Or maybe you did. All you knew was that you were ready to have his dick down your throat. Your shaky hands pulled his boxers down and he sprang free, thick, long and veiny. You had to admit, the minute he walked through the door, you knew a man like him was huge.

���Take it down your fucking throat like a good girl,” he commanded, hands tangling in your braids.

With your gaze locked on his, you slowly took him into your mouth earning a low groan. As you took him deeper, your tongue swirled along the shaft, getting it sloppy the way you knew he liked it.

“Just like that, you’re a pro,” he moaned, his dark gaze staring down at you.

You deep throated him, blessed to have to no gag reflex. Your hands massaged his heavy balls and soon, you picked up a steady rhythm, bobbing your head as your mouth made filthy noises that echoed throughout your father’s office.

“Fuck, I was right. You’re exactly like a pornstar,” he began, now thrusting his hips forward, “such a fucking whore, just slobbering all over my cock.”

Your nails dug into his thighs as he held your hand and brought you down on his cock at the same pace he was thrusting into your mouth. The tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly and all you could do was moan in response.

“I love it when a girl moans with my dick in her mouth. You’re so perfect,” he murmured.

At his praises you used as much tongue as you could, gliding it along his thick length as he fucked your throat.

“Fuck sweetheart, I’m gonna cum. And you’re gonna swallow it all. Open up that fucking throat.”

He held you down on his cock, your nose touching his pelvis and you swallowed obediently as soon as his load filled your mouth. He moaned above you, muttering curses as the last of his cum sprayed on your tongue.

He let go of your braids and took ahold of his still hard cock. “Stick that tongue out, let me see.” You did as you were told, sticking your tongue out. He slapped his cock on your tongue and across your cheek, smirking above you. “That’s a good girl, now get up and sit on the desk.”

Rising to your knees, you sat on the desk and he positioned himself in front of you. “Now, I’m gonna give that tight, wet pussy what it’s craving but first, you have to beg me for it.”

You knew exactly what he meant and without missing a beat, you did as instructed. “P-please Nicholas, please, I need your cock.” A small slap interrupted you, whipping your head to the side, though the force wasn’t enough to cause pain.

“Call me daddy,” he growled. Your breath hitched at the pure taboo of his expectations. You called your own father, daddy. And now he wanted you to call him daddy while you begged for him to fuck you in your actual daddy’s office. “C’mon sweetheart, I don’t have all fucking day.”

“Please daddy,” you began, a look of desperation plastered across your face. “I need your cock. Please fuck me daddy.”

He was clearly satisfied and he lined the raw bulbous tip with your leaking entrance. You gasped involuntarily, feeling him slap it on your clit a few times before he pushed inside you.

“So goddamn tight,” he groaned, looking down at your pussy just swallowing him. His hand snaked around your neck once more as you adjusted to size, pussy welcoming him inside your walls.

“Daddy,” you moaned softly, as he began pounding into you. Your moans made him feral and his thrusts reflected it, the desk shaking as he slammed into you, hand wrapped securely around your neck. Your hands went to the back of his neck, clawing and clutching, feeling him repeatedly slam against that sweet spot inside you.

“You love my cock don’t you? You’re a fucking whore for me, c’mon, say it,” he demanded, pounding into you like his life depended on it.

“I love your cock daddy,” you cried out. The whole top floor probably heard your screams but you didn’t care. “I’m a whore for you, I’m your whore daddy!”

“That’s my good girl.” His thrusts grew more frantic and he reached between your bodies, rubbing rough circles on your bundle of nerves as you convulsed and throbbed under his touch.

“Cum on daddy’s cock. Cum on my cock while I fuck you like a slut on your dad’s desk.” You cried out, pussy clamping down on his cock as an intense orgasm took ahold of you. Your entire body shook and your hands went to his ass, pulling him in even deeper as you came on his cock.

“Shit, that’s my good girl, now turn around. I wanna see that ass bounce on my cock.”

He flipped you around effortlessly, pushing you flat on the table as you arched your back. “That’s it, now spread that ass let me see.” You spread your ass open and felt him spit on your pussy before his cock dragged along your folds. He sunk into you from behind, his cock angling even deeper at this angle and he slapped your ass as he began pounding into you.

“God. That fucking ass, you’re so sexy baby,” he muttered, rolling his hips as his pace increased.

You bounced your ass back against him, earning another slap and a deep moan as he fucked you against the desk. You were so caught up in his cock filling you up and hitting all the right spots that you almost missed the bright light out of the corner of your eye. Almost.

“W-what are you doing?” you rasped, still fucking yourself on his hard cock.

“Recording our first memory,” he said, though he tone was tinged with something darker.

You moaned as he slapped your ass, his other hand clutching his phone tightly as he recorded his cock disappearing inside you.

“Who’s making you cream all over his cock? Huh?” he asked, pulling your hair so your back arched even deeper.

“You are daddy! Only y-you!” you cried out, earning a low chuckle.

“That’s a good girl. Such a fucking slut letting me record you getting utterly fucked on your dad’s desk and calling me daddy while you’re at it? God,” he sneered.

Your pussy clenched even tighter around his cock at his words, the stretch burning but pleasurable and you knew you were on the brink of an orgasm.

“Gonna cum on daddy’s cock? Yeah? Beg me,” he growled, angling his phone even closer to your pussy showing just how much wetter you were getting.

“Please daddy. Please can I cum? Please let me cum on your cock, I’m your dirty slut,” you sobbed, tears of pleasure rolling down your cheeks.

“Well since you asked so nicely, cum on my cock,” he urged.

You gripped the edge of the desk, a loud moan escaping your lips as your juices soaked his cock that was pumping inside you. You sobbed from the sensitivity, holding out your hand to slow his movements but he just held it behind your back.

“I’m gonna cum inside this needy pussy. Gonna breed you so the baby that grows inside you can be my ticket to your dad’s empire. Gonna get you fucking pregnant so I can be the father to his grandkids,” he chuckled darkly.

“Breed me daddy,” you croaked out and that was all it took.

Nicholas stilled inside you, his cock throbbing and spurting his seed deep inside your pussy. You moaned, collapsing on the desk as your pussy milked him of every last drop.

A swooshing sound you recognized as the sound an iPhone made when an email was sent snapped you back to reality. Though, you were too fucked out to mention it but it seemed Nicholas read your mind.

“Just a heads up, I sent that little recording of me fucking you to your dad. We’ll see if firing me was worth it,” he said, darkly.

“P-please,” you uttered weakly.

“Oh sweetheart, it’s already done. Daddy will see how much of a fucking slut and pornstar his innocent little girl really is. That’ll fucking show him.”

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Tags: @blackynsupremacy @hoffmansgirl @nicholaschavezslut69 @rain-likes-purple

[thef1diary]

A Steamy Prank | Dirtbag!Danny

— a lil replacement for dirty drabbles 👀

warnings: 18+ content below, dirtbag!daniel, oral (fem receiving), slight overstimulation, slight breath play, choking, degradation, unprotected sex, name calling.

wc: 2.5k

masterlist

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

The water bubbled around you, steam curling into the cool night air, but all you could focus on was Daniel. He sat across from you, shirtless, his tattooed thighs spread wide beneath the water. His damp curls stuck to his forehead, and his smirk was downright wicked. You should’ve known from that look alone that he was up to something.

You crossed your arms over your chest, feeling a little heated under his scrutinizing gaze. The new bikini he’d gifted you earlier was tiny—borderline scandalous with your tits nearly slipping out to give him a peak. He had even bought matching swim shorts—a very slutty pair of shorts—and quite frankly, you loved the attention he gave you, so you didn’t think twice before putting on the two scraps of fabric. 

“How’s the water, sweetheart?” he asked casually, leaning back against the hot tub’s edge, the muscles in his arms flexing as he stretched. Your gaze was drawn to the tattoo on his bicep, and as you trapped your bottom lip between you teeth, you nearly forgot the question he’d asked. 

“Fine,” you muttered, eyes narrowing at the way his grin widened.

“Just fine?” he teased, tilting his head as he watched you. “You’re looking a little…unsettled.”

“I’m fine,” you repeated, though the truth was far from it. 

Something felt off, and it wasn’t just the way his gaze was raking over you—no, you loved it when his attention was solely on you. The straps of his bikini were looser than they had been earlier, the fabric around your chest feeling precarious. You reached up to adjust it, but the moment your fingers touched the material, it began to dissolve under your touch. 

Your heart dropped.

“Daniel,” you hissed, panic rising as the bikini disintegrated like sugar in water. 

He barked out a laugh, sitting up straight, sloshing the water around in the tub. “Oh, shit, it’s happening already?” 

“You did this on purpose!” you accused, your voice a mix of outrage and disbelief. 

“Me? Never. What kind of guy do you think I am?” He raised his eyebrows but the smile tugging on his lips told you the truth. 

“The worst kind,” you hissed, though the flush on your cheeks had given you away, knowing he could see right through your act. 

He shrugged, completely unrepentant. “Thought it’d be funny. And, well…” his eyes darkened, roaming over your body as your nipples peaked through the dissolving material. “I wasn’t wrong.” 

You scrambled to cover yourself since you were still trying to make sense of the situation, your arms wrapping around your chest, but it was no use. The water did little to hide you, and Daniel’s gaze was searing. 

“Relax, baby,” he drawled, leaning forward. “It’s just us out here. No one’s gonna see what a desperate little slut I can turn you into.” 

“Danny, you’re such an asshole!” you snapped, though the heat spreading throughout your body due to his words had little to do with anger. 

He smirked, reaching out to grab your wrist and pull you closer. “Oh, come on. Don’t act like you don’t love it. You’re so desperate for me even your clothes couldn’t stay on.” 

You rolled your eyes and despite your best attempt, a small giggle left your lips. “Shut up,” you murmured, though your body betrayed you, leaning into his touch.

His hands slid over your hips, pulling you onto his lap. Your bikini bottoms had completely disintegrated in the water and the last remnants of the fabric covering your chest was plucked away easily by Daniel, leaving you completely bare. 

“Let me guess, your shorts are still intact,” you murmured, a tinge of annoyance lacing your tone which earned a laugh from him. 

“All this attitude…where does it come from, sweetheart?” he asked, sliding his fingers over your tits, squeezing the soft mound before circling your nipples. “Is it because you know I’m going to put you in your place? ‘Cause I'm gonna turn you into my personal slut?” 

A whine escaped your lips, your mind already turning hazy with his low murmurs of filth. His free hand rested on the nape of your neck, fingers finding their way into your wet strands of hair. Your head tilted back when he tugged harshly, exposing the column of your neck that he lazily traced with his tongue. 

You should have resisted, should have scolded him for pulling such a childish prank, but the second his lips met your neck, all coherent thoughts fled. He kissed and nipped at your skin, his stubble scraping deliciously as he worked his way down to your collarbone. 

Moans filled the air as he sucked and kissed all over your neck, leaving marks behind when his teeth grazed over you before soothing it using his flattened tongue. He hummed, finding your pulse quickening under his lips, and you could feel him smirk against your skin. 

“See, you do love it,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “I bet you’re so fucking wet already. What do you want, sweetheart?” 

Your foggy mind struggled to catch up when you felt quiet anticipation fill the air. “Daniel—” you started, only to cut yourself off because you didn’t know what to say, you didn’t even remember what he had asked. 

He cooed, grazing your cheeks with the back of his fingers, looking at you with pity. “Is my baby too dazed to think?” he asked, his soft, mocking tone only causing your mind to spin further. 

Daniel’s hand moved down to your neck, and in an instant, his fingers wrapped around your throat, squeezing it with slight pressure. “That’s okay, let me take care of you, hm?” 

You whimpered, your eyes welling up with tears, only causing his grin to grow further. He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours, a broken moan quickly silenced by him. Using his advantage of his hand wrapped around your throat, he guided you, chasing after the intoxicating taste of your lips. 

Soon, his hand had finally released your throat, allowing the rush of oxygen and blood flow to return, making your head spin as a whispered plea left your lips. His hands were everywhere, sliding over your ass, your thighs, your waist. He gripped your hips and lifted you, setting you on the edge of the hot tub. The cool air immediately hit your wet body, making you shiver, but the heat of his mouth descending on your pussy erased any discomfort. 

“Fuck, Daniel,” you moaned, your hands tangling in his hair as his tongue flicked over your clit. 

He groaned against you, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure through your body. “So fucking sweet,” he murmured, his voice muffled as he buried his face deeper. “Could stay down here forever.” 

Your legs trembled, your hips bucking against his mouth as he sucked and licked with relentless precision. The filthy wet sounds filled the air, mingling with your breathless cries. 

“Danny, please–”

He pulled back just enough to smirk up at you, his chin glistening with your wetness. “Please, what, baby? Use your pretty mind and tell me what you want.” 

“Make me cum,” you begged, shameless and desperate. 

“That’s my good girl, I love it when you beg f’me,” he said, before licking a stripe up your cunt.

It didn’t take long before you were falling apart for him, your body shuddering on his command as you came with a cry of his name. He licked you through the aftershocks, his hands firmly holding your thighs open as he devoured every last drop. 

Before you could fully recover, he pulled you back into the water, the warmth surrounding you as he positioned you to straddle his lap. He had already shrugged his shorts down, having freed his cock while he was devouring your pussy. His cock slid across your folds, thick and unyielding as he nudged your clit. You gasped when he thrust up inside you in one smooth motion without warning. 

You could only whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move, a breathless moan of your name falling from his lips when you clenched around him. The water sloshed around you, the sound obscene as he fucked into you with deep, measured thrusts. 

“Look at you,” he said, his voice rough. “Taking me so well. A perfect fucking little slut, aren’t you?” 

You moaned, nodding, the degradation only spurring you on as you matched the movements of your hips with his thrusts. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” he muttered, his hands gripping your ass to control your movements. “So desperate for me, you can’t even keep quiet.”

His words earned a loud moan from you, your head falling against his shoulder as he slammed into you harder. His fingers moved to your clit, creating tight circles that made you see stars. You cried out, tears staining your cheeks as the pleasure was coiling tightly in your belly. Another muffled moan escaped your lips and you couldn’t help but bite down on his shoulder, imprinting the marks of your teeth in his skin. 

He shuddered beneath you, his thrusts faltering for a moment as he whispered a curse under his breath. Then, he suddenly sped up his pace, hips snapping against yours with a sense of brutality, knowing he’ll leave your cunt aching the next morning. Water sloshed around you, only amplifying the intensity of the moment, the sound of wet slaps of skin against skin echoing loudly in the otherwise silent night. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you managed to choke out between constant moans, the soft uh uh uh’s turning loud and desperate with each thrust. 

“Yeah?” he murmured, his breath brushing your ear. “Cum for me, sweetheart, make a mess ‘round me.” 

An obscene moan filled the air, your head falling back as he angled his hips, constantly hitting that perfect spot that made you see stars. 

Your release crashed over you, your pussy clenching around him as you cried out his name. He didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down until you slumped against him, completely spent. When you lifted your head and met his gaze with teary eyes, a lazy smirk graced his lips. 

“Don’t tell me you’re done, baby,” he murmured, “I’m still hard.” He punctuated his words by withdrawing almost entirely, leaving you aching and empty for the briefest moment, only to plunge back in, hitting a spot so deep it left you gasping. A broken cry spilled from your lips, his name a plea as you clung to him.

He chuckled softly, the sound deep and indulgent, shaking his head as though scolding you. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, brushing a thumb across your flushed cheek. "I thought you wanted to make me feel good. You do, don’t you?"

Your body betrayed your exhaustion, nodding before your voice could catch up. "Yes," you whispered, the word trembling with need.

His hand cupped your chin, lifting your gaze to his. His expression softened just enough to make your heart race before his lips curled into that maddening smirk once more. “Such a dirty little whore for me, aren’t you? Always wanna be stuffed with my cock.” 

You whined, “please, Danny, want you to fill me.” 

He shifted your body gently, turning you so your back pressed against his chest, trapped between his body and the corner of the hot tub. The warmth of his breath ghosted over your ear as he leaned in, his hands settling on your waist to guide you. Slowly, he pressed you down onto him, a deep groan rumbling through him as you took him in.

You gasped, overwhelmed by the fullness after multiple orgasms, the way he fit perfectly, as though made for you. He held you there for a moment, his strong hands steadying you as your body adjusted to the intensity.

"I’ve got you," he murmured, his voice a promise, steady and reassuring. The heat of his words wrapped around you, grounding you as you melted into his embrace. With a slow, deliberate motion, he began again, his movements coaxing soft, breathless sounds from your lips, drawing you deeper into his rhythm.

His grip on your waist tightened as he moved, his pace relentless, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge of reason. The water rippled violently around you, but you barely noticed, your focus consumed entirely by him behind you—his strength, his control, and the way he handled you with ease.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice low and mocking against your ear. "So desperate. Falling apart on my cock, like the needy little thing you are."

A soft whimper left your lips, and his chuckle was anything but kind. His hands slid down to your hips, gripping them firmly as he pulled you back onto him with each thrust, his control over you absolute.

"You don’t even care how wrecked you look, do you?" he taunted, his tone dripping with condescension. "All you want is to be filled, isn’t that right? Say it."

"Yes," you gasped, your voice trembling, barely coherent. "Please—"

"Pathetic," he cut you off, a dark smirk curling his lips. "Can’t even form a proper sentence, can you? All that’s left in that pretty little head is me."

Your face burned, but the way he spoke only made you cling to him harder, the degradation sending a pulse of heat straight through you.

"That’s what I thought," he continued, his voice a cruel mix of amusement and dominance. "You’re nothing but my little toy, made for me to use however I want."

He punctuated his words with a particularly harsh thrust, and a strangled cry escaped you, your fingers clutching at the edge of the tub for dear life.

"You’re going to give me everything," he demanded, his voice firm as he leaned down, his teeth grazing your shoulder. "I’m not stopping until you’ve got nothing left to give. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," you whimpered, the word barely audible.

"Good girl," he said, his tone dripping with mock approval. "At least you know your place."

His pace quickened, his movements calculated and unrelenting. The pleasure built to an unbearable peak, his dominance overwhelming and all-consuming. You trembled in his grasp, his name spilling from your lips in a desperate cry as you reached your breaking point, the world around you dissolving into white-hot bliss.

He followed close behind, his groan low and rough as he buried himself one last time, holding you tightly as he claimed every inch of you.

When the haze cleared, you were slumped against the hot tub, your body spent, your mind hazy. He chuckled softly, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as his hands rubbed soothing circles against your hips.

"Such a good little thing," he murmured, the edge in his voice softening just enough to make your chest ache. "Always so eager to please me."

You nodded weakly, your voice too shaky to respond, but the small smile on your lips spoke volumes. He held you there, pressed against him, as the water gently lapped at your skin, his presence as commanding as ever even in the quiet aftermath.

[htaesan]

　ᅠ ✿　ᅠ GIVING YOU MY FOREVER　　────　ᅠ ( han taesan )

𝓹recis ⠀ : ⠀when han taesan, your boyfriend, notices you haven’t been answering his texts for the entire day, he sets out to figure out why𑁋only to find you sobbing alone on top of the hill.

　　　ᅠ 한태산 ⠀⠀◜◡◝ ⠀⠀𝒇 reader ⠀wc 0.8k ⠀ genre comfort fluff established relationship ⠀ contains mentions of family issues crying skinship ⠀ note this fic is highkey self-indulgent bc i wrote this when i was having a hard time </3 so it kinda doesn’t make sense? welp ⠀ tagging @a-dream-bookmark ,@/k-labels , @k-nets , @k-films , @sgz-net

　　　ᅠ ＞︿ 　　please leave feedbacks 　　& 　　reblog

“Hey, here you are.”

You didn’t have to look to know who it was—instead, you sigh deeply, letting the boy settle himself next to you. You throw your gaze far, letting your eyes capture the beauty of the night from atop the hill: the way the stars still shine despite being thousands and thousands of miles away, the way the city lights add a sparkle to the night’s black canvas. You take a deep breath, hoping that the smell of grass and the gentle breeze of autumn would bring some peace to your heart.

“You… okay?” you hear him ask after quite some time. You purse your lips, still not meeting his eyes, afraid all the tears might spill once you do. “You didn’t read my texts for the whole day.”

“M-maybe,” you manage. Your throat feels dry as you force your words out. “I’ll be fine.”

“You know,” he says, after a few moments. He places a hand on yours, his touch gentle and comforting. “You can tell me anything.”

You lower your head. 

Please don’t cry.

“I might not understand your pain, I might not fully understand what you’re going through,” he continues, his voice so deep and kind. “But I’m here. I’ll listen.”

“Even if you don’t want to tell me—or if you can’t find the right words to describe how you feel, I’ll be here. Always.” 

Under his hand, you clench your own. 

“I…”

“Okay?” 

You finally look up, turning slightly to meet his gaze. You bite your lower lip as you watch Taesan’s eyes widen slightly at the way your eyes fill with tears. His hands grab yours tight as he offers you a gentle smile. 

“I’m sorry,” you croak, lowering your head again as tears begin to spill. Taesan’s grasp remains firm, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. “I… I don’t know how to say this…”

Taesan smiles softly, squeezing your hands. “It’s okay. Tell me anything—just say anything that comes to mind, I’ll piece it together.”

“My parents,” you say, your words coming out one by one, in between sobs, “it’s stressing me out– I– is this my fault? Why– why are they fighting? I thought they– love– each other—”

You can’t stop it, your tears falling down your cheeks like raindrops in a storm, unstoppable and overwhelming. Your chest heaves up and down with each sob, your throat tight with a lump that makes your speech difficult to interpret. 

“Hey…” 

Taesan pulls you into a hug, causing you to hiccup in surprise. It engulfs you like a warm blanket on a winter night—you could smell Taesan: a mixture of champagne orange, passion fruit, sugar vanilla; the perfume his mother had bought for him. Immediately, your tears begin to flow down again, as Taesan’s warmth starts to become one with you. 

Taesan doesn’t let go—his embrace of you firm and comforting, telling you he’s there for you through every high and low. Taesan hugs you close, letting your heartbeat converge with his. He lets you cry your heart out in his arms, not giving a care in the world about how your tears are staining his favourite sweater. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispers, once your tears have subsided. 

“But… won’t you fall out of love, one day?” you ask him, resting your head against his chest. You close your eyes shut, trying to remove the memory of witnessing your parents’ fight from your mind. 

Taesan kisses the top of your head, resting his chin against it after. “Will I ever?”

“Maybe,” you mumble. 

“Darling,” Taesan says, causing butterflies to begin erupting in your stomach. He’s called you that for so many times already, yet it always catches you off guard. “If we love each other truly, we’ll always find a way to make things work, hm?”

He pulls away a little bit, and you look directly into his eyes. Taesan gives you a smile—different from his usual cheeky grin—beautiful, sincere, and ethereal. “Besides, we still have a long way to go before we get married, and before we die. We’ll have plenty of time to learn from our mistakes.”

“Married?” you exclaim, eyes widening. You smack his shoulder in an attempt to hide the blush that’s beginning to form on your cheeks.

“Yeah,” Taesan nods, folding his arms as he holds his neck from behind. “Why? You don’t like it?”

“Well… of course I love it,” you mutter, biting the inside of your cheek. After a while, you turn to him, narrowing your eyes. “But marriage is a serious matter, you know? I—”

Taesan kisses your cheek, grinning as he pulls away. “I know.”

You lock eyes with Taesan, the sparkling night around you, the gentle breeze blowing through. 

“And I love you, so seriously, to be doing it in the future. To be giving you my forever.”

― © htaesan, 2025.

[alm0ndm1lk1]

Truth or Dare

Jinx x F! Reader

Warning: NSFW Minor DNI, Smoking, Freaky deaky stuff, Truth or Dare

Summary: You and Jinx are having a sleepover while there has been tension building between you both with friendly game of Truth or Dare.

Author note: This was heavily proofread so I hope you all enjoy ⭐️ #RunningoffofRedbulls

˚₊‧ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“Can you Roll?” You asked Jinx, showing her the bag of “goodies” you received from Ekko.

“Yea, I can. Just go to my desk and grab my kit,” She tells you. You and Jinx planned to have a sleepover over at Jinx’s place. It’s turned into a normal routine between the two of you since Jinx enjoys your presence and vice versa. Isha is over at Sevika’s for the night so you and Jinx have the place to themselves - after a while of not having one on one time.

As you are searching Jinx’s desk, you couldn’t find her kit, which had you checking inside each of her drawers. In the second drawer, you open you find something quite… interesting.

“Jinx, can you come over here,” You choke out. Jinx walks over and find you looking at her blue and black strap designed with light blue accents. “Shit, I should’ve told you my kit’s in the third drawer,” She chuckled at your embarrassed expression.

Jinx moves over your body and opens the third drawer open where she pulls out her metal kit that has her rolling paper and tray, a lighter, and a grinder. “Is everything okay toots?” She whispers in your ear, moving her hand to your waist as she rest her head on your shoulder. Your breath hitches from her cold hands, “Yeah, I’m fine. I just never knew you owned one of those,” You manage to get out, “So spill. Who is it for?”

Jinx moves from behind you sliding her kit in her hand as she hums, “Dunno. Just decided to have it, that’s it. Or it might be for someone who commissioned me. You think I’m some pervert?” She then raises her eyebrow, “…or do you want me to test it out on you?” She says in a teasing tone.

You quickly respond, “Hmm I don’t know, what if you had Violet test it with Caitlyn?” The air between you two goes dead silent for a beat, and Jinx’s face twitches slightly—caught off guard by your complete lack of awareness.

Her grin falls as she processes what you just said, and then, with a laugh that feels more like a snort, she opens her rolling kit while in mock exasperation. "Oh, sweetie," she says, her voice dripping with playful amusement, "I was totally not talking about that." She gives you a sideways glance, her smile returning, but now there’s a glimmer of something more devilish in her eyes.

You stare at her, blinking in confusion, and she can’t help but laugh again.

“Alright, alright, God you are so innocent when you wanna be,” she finally says. She starts rolling the blunt shaking her head. “I’ll just… leave it to your wild imagination.”

You change the conversation and make plans about later with Jinx until she finishes rolling the blunt and glances up at you, her blue eyes glinting with mischief. "All done," she says, holding the freshly rolled blunt up between her fingers. “You can have the first hit since you rolled it,” You say, with a dismissive hand gesture.

Without missing a beat, Jinx pops the blunt into her mouth, pulls out her lighter, and with a flick she ignites the end. She takes a long drag, her chest rising as she inhales deeply, savoring the taste. After a moment, she exhales a thick plume of smoke and then looks at you with a mischievous grin.

"Come over here, toots," she says, her voice low.

You blink, not thinking twice, and crawl over to where Jinx is lounging on the couch. Your movements are casual, but to Jinx, they feel like slow, deliberate torture. She watches you with narrowed eyes, a spark of something dangerous flickering in her gaze. “How does she not know?” Jinx thinks to herself, a sense of confusion in her chest. She's been around you enough to know how comfortable you are with her—how you’ve never judged her, always accepting her for who she really is.

Bur despite all that, Jinx finds herself fighting the urge to close the distance between you two in a way that goes beyond friendly banter. You don’t even realize how you drive her mad. “How can she be so oblivious?” she thinks with a mix of frustration and desire. She’s always been protective of you, but it goes beyond just friendship. She’d never admit it out loud, but the way you look at her—so trusting, so pure. You’re so precious to her, and the idea of anyone harming you—of anyone taking advantage of that innocence— she would destroy anyone who dared hurt you, without a second thought.

Jinx’s chest tightens as she watches you settle closer to her, unaware of the storm swirling inside her. You’ve shown her kindness when others only saw her chaos, and she wants to keep you safe from all the bad people in the world who would take advantage of your trusting nature. She wishes she could protect you from everything, from all the hurt and heartbreak that life could throw your way. And, deep down, she knows she’d do whatever it takes to keep you from ever feeling that pain.

Jinx breaks out of her thoughts when she hears you whining looking up at her, “Jinx, can I take a hit?” Your lips are so pouty and cheeks are so flushed, Jinx just wants to have fun with you a bit. “Hmm, I don’t know if I want to share.”

You furrow your eyebrows, hopping in her lap and straddling her thigh— you bury your face into her shoulder and cry into her. “I was the one who got these. You’re so unfair,” You protest as Jinx takes another puff, exhaling softly. “I’m not sure you deserve it… convince me.”

You look down and grip her shoulders slowly bouncing on her thigh, “Please Jinx, I will make it up to you and we can do whatever you want for the rest of the night,” Your voice dips slightly, and though you might not realize it, the quiet sincerity behind your words only adds to the tension between you two. Jinx feels her pulse quicken, but she hides it behind a playful smirk. “Okay fine, here.” She pops the blunt into your mouth and you take a hit, blowing out a big ball of smoke. You hug Jinx, saying happily, “Thank youuu!”

Time passes and you both of y’all take hits off the blunt until it was all gone. Afterwards, you both decided to take your showers and put on your pajamas. Jinx has on a white tank top with her Cookie Monster pajama pants, while you had on a baby pink and black nightgown that cupped your soft breast as it fell to your upper thigh.

Jinx is sitting on the couch, her eyes following you as you move around the room. The moment you step into view, she takes her time looking you up and down. Her gaze lingers longer than usual, her lips curling into a playful smirk. "Hmm, cute," she murmurs, her voice low, but playful. She walks over to you and gently cups your chin in her hand, her touch soft but sending a spark of electricity through you. There’s a shift in the air, and Jinx seems to sense it, her eyes darkening slightly as her fingers traces your jaw.

She giggles, teasing, "So," she starts, her voice low, “what was that promise you were going to make up to me?” Her eyebrow raises, her playful tone mixing with something more calculating as she takes a small step closer.

You, completely oblivious to the shift in atmosphere, smile brightly, hopping up in excitement. “Oh, I’m so glad you asked!” You rush to the kitchen, “I got your favorite!” you call out over your shoulder, grabbing the tub of vanilla ice cream from the freezer and rushing back to the counter. You grab the toppings from your bag — whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and a jar of cherries. You're not aware of how Jinx's eyes never leaving you as you move.

You assemble the perfect bowl—two scoops of vanilla ice cream, topped with a mountain of whipped cream, a drizzle of chocolate syrup, and a cherry on top. You carry the bowl to the couch, setting it down between you both. You hand Jinx a spoon, smiling brightly. “Here, hope you enjoy!”

Jinx takes the spoon, and as she digs into the ice cream, she savors the flavor slowly, clearly enjoying it more than she lets on. She nods approvingly, but there’s a certain glint in her eyes that you don’t pick up on. “This is so delicious, sweetness,” she chirps, her voice teasing but also carrying a note of something else. You don’t notice the way she says sweetness, how the word rolls off her tongue, hinting at something deeper.

As you both continue eating, the ice cream quickly disappearing, Jinx suddenly breaks the silence. Her voice drops a little, but it’s still playful. “Do you wanna play a game?” she asks, her words laced with a subtle tension that you completely miss.

You hum in response, turning to her with a smile. “Sure, what are we playing?”

Jinx scoots closer, her body language shifting. She leans in, her breath warm against your ear as she whispers, “Truth or Dare.” Her voice is thick with mischief, but your brain processes it as nothing more than the next fun game for the night. You blink, tilting your head, completely unaware of the weight behind her words. “Oh, okay! Sounds fun,” you say, your tone bright and excited.

˚₊‧ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

At first, the game seemed harmless—questions like “Tell an embarrassing story,” “Have you ever broken a law?”, and “Send a random person a crazy text.” But as the night wore on, the questions grew more personal, more daring. “What’s your non-sexual turn on?” “Give me a hickey”, “Show me your favorite sex position.”

Now here you are on top of Jinx, and your head’s dizzy. Your whole body is feeling hot as you’re whining in Jinx’s lap. Jinx is groaning under you, her hand traveling up and gripping your hip to move your body against her clothed crotch. She rasps in your ear, “I would’ve never knew someone this innocent would do this with other girls... you dirty girl.” She quickly travels her hand under your nightgown to your ass, giving it a light smack and making you silently squeal into her chest. “How many girls had you do this to them? Huh? I bet there are many people that want a piece of you. You’re so cute, so innocent, ‘m almost sure I can make you do whatever I want because deep down you will chase that pleasure like a needy slut.”

You cry into Jinx’s shoulder gripping onto her blue locks for dear life, grinding your body harder and faster against Jinx. You look up to Jinx, cupping her face, looking deep into her eyes. Both of your lips are inches apart from each other. Before you can kiss her, Jinx puts her pink fingernail against your plump lips, “Nuh-uh toots.. your time is up.” She pats the side of your thigh signaling you to get off. You move off of Jinx, crawling back to your spot across from her while Jinx flashes a look at your ass. You sit in your spot looking down, while your hands trap between your legs to lessen the dull hum you’re feeling between your thighs.

“Dare,” Jinx practically purrs, giving you a devilish smile. You meekly ask, “Kiss me.”Jinx moves over to you, holding your chin in her hand as she caresses your soft skin. Her thumb toys with your bottom lip, slowly moving her lips to yours teasingly. “Please Jinx…” You whine softly, and Jinx closes the gap between you both, giving you a sweet but hungry kiss. You moan softly into the kiss. You needed her so bad.

Jinx pushes you back on the couch, needing to feel more of you as her mouth travels down your neck, creating more marks along with the ones she decorated your neck with before. Suddenly, she stops and moves back to her spot. Flashing you a sickly sweet grin, she looks at you. “So, what’ll it be, Truth or Dare?” At this point, you were so desperate and wanted to feel her more. You didn’t even think about what possible outcome could come out— “Dare,” You answered, absolutely certain with your choice.

“Grab the whipped cream from the fridge and hand it to me.” You scurried over to the fridge, grabbing the whipped cream… you had no clue what she was planning in that head of hers. That was one thing about Jinx, you never knew her next move. You walk over to her, waiting for what scheme she had planned. “Take off your nightgown but keep your panties on,” she demands. You slide the thin straps of the shoulder of your nightgown, it falling to the floor. The cold air hits your skin and as you stand in front of her, you can’t help but feel vulnerable especially since you’re almost nude while she is still fully clothed. Jinx guides you to lay down back flat on the cushion of the couch. “W-What are you going to do?” You manage to choke out. Jinx hums, looking down at your body, “Oh, you’ll see.” She darkly chuckles against you.

Jinx puts the nozzle of the whipped cream against your nipples, making you shudder from the cold hard plastic against your sensitive chest. She presses down and the white cream spreads on your breasts. You whine from the new sensation as the sweet treat is making a mess on your chest, down the valley between your breasts and onto your stomach. Once she finishes her masterpiece, she takes a minute to take It in… you looked so delicious she had to take a mental photograph to refer back to. “I wish you could see yourself right now. Can’t even believe I’m seeing this right now,” She giggles and dips her head down to your chest and starts attacking your nipple, taking it into her mouth. You shriek from the feeling of her tongue and her sucking hard on your poor chest. “J-Jinx please be gentl- ah!” You cry out loudly. Jinx completely ignores your request, going to the other side giving the same treatment. Her free hand grips your chest, teasing and pinching your nipple.

You feel your bottom half of your body tingle and you didn’t know what to do. All you can do is babble and moan from her mouth latching onto your over-sensitive chest. Once Jinx is finished with you, she lifts you up and all you both can do is giggle. “Sounds like you had a lot of fun,” She teases you. Your head is so hazy from the pleasure. To tease her back, you pick up her sticky hand and put her middle and ring finger in your mouth, sucking the lingering whipped cream off. All Jinx could do was just look at you hungrily as she spreads her slender fingers in your mouth, as your tongue is dancing between them, slightly gagging on her digits. You take your mouth off her fingers as a string of saliva comes off her fingers and onto your chin.

You sigh softly, looking into her eyes with nothing but desire. Jinx then takes a deep breath, “You know what… fuck it.” That’s all she says. She grips your hand and drags you into her room, closing the door for whatever the night has in store. You both knew for sure, you both will take your time with each other.

˚₊‧ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Part 2 coming soon !! Hope you enjoyed

- Angel 💋

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Dialogue: Compliments

Compliment - a verbal or written remark that expresses admiration, respect, or praise for another person or group.

The definition of compliment includes the general expression of good wishes or affirmations on quality, as in the example sentence, “My compliments to the chef.”

Studies show that compliments can activate the brain’s reward center, promote positivity, and help build self-esteem and overall good mental health.

Types of Compliments

You can compliment anyone, from family members to coworkers to strangers on the street. Some compliments include the following:

Accomplishments: You can compliment someone about their past or recent achievements. You could compliment a significant personal win like reaching a career goal or a minor victory like guessing the word of the day on a challenging crossword puzzle.

Appearance: You can view these compliments as flattering comments about how someone looks on a particular occasion or about attributes like beautiful eyes, skin, or hair.

Creativity: Compliments about creativity might include kind statements about someone’s artistic ability or creative solutions to issues, projects, or problems.

Intelligence: When you compliment someone’s intelligence, you could give them a sincere compliment about a specific situation or playfully tell them they’re a smart cookie in a general sense.

Personality: Compliments about someone’s personality cover many areas and might include statements about the person having a great sense of humor, being a great listener, or always seeing the silver lining in difficult situations.

Whole person: You can compliment someone about how you view them, such as telling them they’re an awesome friend or a great sister.

Examples of Compliments to Give

The best compliments come from the heart and are unique and specific to the person you’re addressing. Consider the following compliment suggestions:

You have a beautiful smile.

You always light up a room.

I love your style.

That color looks great on you.

I love your sense of humor; you always make me laugh.

I’m impressed by your ability to stay calm and focused when things are stressful.

Your ideas are so innovative and fresh.

You’re always so helpful.

I appreciate your honesty.

I always have fun when I’m with you.

You’re stronger than you think you are.

I’m grateful you’re in my life.

You’re an inspiration to me.

You add so much to our community; I’m glad you’re here.

I admire that you always speak up with your opinion.

I always feel comfortable being myself around you.

You’ve brought such joy into my life.

I love how curious you are about how things work.

You’re such a good team player and considerate of others.

You’re so patient when dealing with others’ problems.

How to Compliment Someone

Giving a compliment might feel awkward at first, but with practice, you’ll experience the benefits of improved relationships and an overall sense of wellness. Follow these guidelines when giving a compliment:

Be specific. The more detailed your compliment, the more impactful it feels to the person receiving it. Telling someone they’re a good listener is lovely, but telling them about a specific time when they made you feel heard them feels more meaningful.

Embrace sincerity. Most people can sense when a compliment is insincere, so tell the truth when giving praise. Avoid giving compliments you don’t believe, such as telling them they’re attractive when you don’t find them attractive or telling someone they did a good job when they failed at the task.

Include strangers. Avoid reserving compliments just for people you know well. A well-timed and honest compliment to someone you don’t know can make their day, even if it’s about something simple. Avoid complimenting people you don’t know well on their physical appearance.

Notice the good things. Pay attention to your family, friends, loved ones, and coworkers, and note their good qualities and accomplishments. When you spend a lot of time with people, it’s easy to only focus on problems or negative issues that need solutions. Incorporate taking in the positive and giving compliments regularly to forge stronger connections and make a habit of noticing the good.

How to Respond to a Compliment

In some cases, you may find receiving compliments creates anxiety, especially if you suffer from low self-esteem. Follow these tips when responding to a compliment:

Avoid rejecting the compliment. Sometimes receiving compliments feels uncomfortable, making you impulsively want to give credit to someone else, turn it into a joke, or tell the person why you don’t deserve the accolades. Though you may feel all these things internally, do your best to avoid verbalizing your self-doubt, which could make the other person feel foolish or rejected.

Express your gratitude. Accept the compliment as you would a gift, saying “thank you.” If you wish, you can expand on your appreciation by adding how the compliment made a difference (either as a positive emotion or as an encouragement to keep going).

It’s about the giver as much as it’s about you. When someone compliments you, they tell you how your behavior or actions impacted them, which may feel like a vulnerable act for them. Remember that how you respond can have an emotional effect on the receiver.

Redirect compliments meant for someone else. If someone compliments you about an action or work you didn’t do, redirect them to the right person while supporting their desire to give a compliment. For example, if someone compliments you about a work project you didn’t do, you might say, “That’s so nice of you to say that! Actually, Kim completed that job. I’m sure she’d love to hear your feedback.”

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[loverboysturn]

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ popular!chris and the football team take a visit to the diner when cinderella!reader is on shift !

find all popular!chris and cinderella!reader writings here and everything else here!

note: you might want to read this first before reading the below so some things make more sense :) my au’s are always open for this au! come yap or ask me questions about them!

you normally hated working the late shift.

but for a friday night, it was quiet. the diner was empty, a few regulars sat in their usual seats and some families scattered about but all in all, your shift had been peaceful so far. the constant hum of the kitchen, the clatter of pots and pans, and the sizzling sounds of the chefs at work was comforting to you, you wipe down the counter in front of you for the third time since you started work tonight, pretending to not notice how time was dragging on. it was boring but you were grateful for the calmness of it all, especially after the last week.

the world outside the diner seemed to be moving slowly too, the streets outside empty apart from the occasional cars driving by, it was one of those rare nights where it was quiet enough that you could find the time to think, your mind always going back to the same thing, same person.

but, the peace didn’t last long.

the door swings open, and the group swarm in, instantly filling the diner with their energy. their voices louder than usual, bouncing off the walls as they joked and laughed. the football team walking in first, followed not long after by a cluster of cheerleaders, all of them still hyped up from practice.

you barely have any time to adjust to the sudden change in the atmosphere before they were all over the place. completely taking over the booths at the back of the diner, making themselves known to everyone else already in here. their noise filling every corner of the diner, and the chatter between them growing with every passing second. the peace and quiet you had only just been enjoying was suddenly replaced with noise, and lots of it.

your colleague pops her head from behind the counter quietly calling your name. “honey, can you take the booths in the back for me? i’ll take the tables after, i just need to wrap up what i’m doing”

you didn’t need to look over to know to known which booths she was talking about.

you hesitate for a second, trying to scramble up an excuse as to why you can’t, feeling a familiar knot of dread tighten in your stomach.

“but, i—i” you stutter, brain working overdrive to find an excuse.

“please?” she asks again, giving you a small smile.

you sigh, accepting your fate. “yeah, of course.” you really, really didn’t want to serve them. the teasing, the jokes, it was always the same when they were around, and you weren’t in the mood for it all tonight, but you couldn’t say no to her.

taking a deep breath, you straightened out your apron and forced yourself to look unbothered by them all, the last thing you needed was for them to start making more of a scene, but you knew the moment you walked over, they’d find something to laugh at.

as you make your way to the table, your eyes immediately land on chris sturniolo, and for a second, your stomach flips. the memory of bumping into him in the hallway earlier this week flashes in your mind. your books flying out of your arms, the way your cheeks went a deep red after falling to the floor, rejecting his offer to help you up, you quickly look away, trying to shake the feeling of being in his line of vision for the first time since, even though he hadn’t so much as even looked at you once.

“here she is, diner girl” one of the football team says as he sees you, loud enough for them all to hear. you recognise him as the guy who was rude to you you the other day when you bumped into chris. “don’t forget your service with a smile today.”

you bite your lip, forcing a smile as you click your pen and pull out your notepad to take their order.

it was hard to not feel the weight of all their eyes on you, you had enough going on at the minute, you’d been juggling assignments at school, your stepmother signing you up for shift after shift, and on top of it all, there were the late night texts you shared with someone you still didn’t know the identity of but for you it was easier that way, completely anonymous. there were no expectations, no judgement. just words on a screen, but they were words that were starting to mean a lot to you.

“what can i get you guys today?” you ask, trying to keep your tone professional. you wasn’t in the mood for the teasing from them tonight, but you’d try to just ignore it.

“milkshakes” one of the cheerleaders looks up at you with a fake smile, “the usual, don’t fuck it up.”

as she finishes speaking, another cheerleader giggles at her friends’ rudeness, a sharp, laugh that rings in your ears after, you recognise her as the head cheerleader.. always the loudest, the first to join in with the diner girl jokes. your eyes briefly look over to where she has her arm casually draped over chris’s, trying to gain his attention, but he wasn’t paying any interest in her, not even looking up from his phone, clearly more interested in what was on the screen than the girl bedside him.

they were the stereotypical on-and-off couple. chris, the school’s golden boy and captain of the football team and her, the head cheerleader and the girl all her friends wanted to be. everyone knew their drama, how they’d broken up and gotten back together more times than you could count on both hands. the last you’d heard, they’d broken up for good just before the summer break started but you’d never paid much attention to it, the gossip of the popular crowd had never really interested you, it was always the same boring stories.

“got it” you say, your voice flat as you force a smile. you turn on your heel, rolling your eyes when they could no longer see you, the feeling of frustration brewing in your chest at the way they treated anyone not in their group but you’d gotten good at pretending they didn’t bother you at work, even when they did. you knew they’d leave a terrible tip anyway, that’s if they even left one at all.

you make sure the milkshakes come out exactly as they ordered to prevent any more rude comments from them, a few vanilla, a few chocolate and some strawberry flavoured. you place them carefully on the table, trying your best to avoid eye contact with anyone but as you set the last one in front of chris, he looks up at you, eyes locking with yours.

“you know, diner girl” one of his teammates interrupts the eye contact, a smirk forming on his lips. “i think we shouldn’t have to pay for these tonight, they’re on the house, right? you know.. ‘cause of your little accident running into chris this week.”

the whole table erupts into laughter, a few other comments muttered and fake giggles, a cheerleader chimes in “yeah, maybe you should stay out the way next time and you’d earn your tips.”

you still don’t let your frustrations show, just nodding at them. “enjoy your drinks guys.” you sigh, quickly walking away before any more comments can be thrown your way.

an hour or so later, the group finish their drinks and you notice them all start to make their way to the exit, their noise and laughter still echoing all around the diner. you stand behind the counter, cleaning a coffee mug, hoping they’ll just hurry up and leave.

“thanks for the free milkshakes, diner girl” one of the football team shouts. “you’ll have to bump into our golden boy more often.”

you don’t respond, just waiting for them all to finally leave, bringing the diner back to the quiet you were enjoying earlier.

you turn to grab a rag from under the counter, already bracing yourself for their mess that you’ll now have to clean, but as you’re about to head over, you feel someone standing on the other side of the counter infront of you.

you glance up, half expecting it to be one of the football team or a cheerleader, waiting to throw one last comment at you before they leave for good, but when you look up and your eyes land on chris, you’re taken aback. he’s standing there, his posture is calm, but you can sense the tension in his shoulders and for a second, you freeze, waiting for him to make some kind of snide remark.

but he doesn’t.

“i just wanted to say” he begins, voice softer than you expected. “i’m sorry for how they all treated you tonight. i didn’t like that they spoke to you like that” he looks down, eyes on the counter infront of him. “the thing in the hallway the other day with me and you, that was completely my fault. i wasn’t looking where i was going.”

you blink in surprise, a look of confusion taking over your face. you wasn’t expecting this, you open your mouth to say something, but the words are stuck in your throat.

“i—“ you start, unsure of how to respond. “it’s fine, i—I’m kinda used to it now.”

he shakes his head, finally looking up at you now. “no,” his voice firm, “you shouldn’t have to be used to it, that’s not fair on you but i’m sorry if my stupid clumsiness made it all worse tonight.”

when you saw him stood there just now, you expected the same attitude you receive off his friends, the same dismissive tone in his voice but instead, he’s apologising for them and you can’t quite figure out why.

“honestly, chris” you say, forcing a smile. “it’s fine, you don’t have to apologise.”

his gaze lingers on you, then without warning, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled bill, sliding it over to you. “here,” he says, “for the milkshakes.”

“thank you,” you murmur, voice softer with him now, you take the money, fingers brushing against his making the awkward tension in the air between you become thick enough that you feel yourself becoming flustered.

chris gives you a half-smile, a rare one that feels a lot more genuine than the usual one you see him throw about at football games and in the hallways. “it’s nothing,” he says, his tone softening. “and, uh…you really know how to make a great strawberry milkshake, guess i owe you one now for that too.”

you blink, completely caught off guard but before you can say anything else, chris turns and heads for the door, slipping out with his friends, door swinging shut behind him. you watch him go, still feeling confused by him being nice to you but you can’t shake the feeling that maybe he is still like the rest of them, charming when he wants something, but just as rude as his friends when it doesn’t matter to him.

you push your thoughts aside, just wanting to forget about the whole scene and pretend your shift tonight didn’t happen, you focus on the task waiting for you, heading over to the now messy booth where they’d been sitting that needed cleaning.

as you wipe the table, your mind drifts to your mystery guy and you can’t help but wonder what he’s doing right now. is he thinking about you too? you glance at the clock, a sense of relief running through you when you see there’s only an hour left of your shift.

sixty more minutes, and you’ll be able to talk to him again, the only thing that had been on your mind all night, the only thing that makes the chaos of your life all fade into the background.

little did you know, the guy who was keeping you up at night and consuming your thoughts, was standing just a few feet from you earlier, complimenting you on your strawberry milkshakes and you had no idea.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - It's Quiet but Sweet RN

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

I'm early I know, I have a v busy weekend.

Jan 2025 Week 2

Ongoing Series - Thai

Your Sky (Sun iQIYI) ep 8 of 12 - So awkward and so cute! I love the sibling relationships in this show. They’re all so wonderful. 

Could we talk about Thomas in that aborted sex scene? That ultra sensual sniff test neck thing?

He did a phenomenal job at conveying Japanese thirst with Taiwanese payback, unique IMHO for Thai BL. Kong did a pretty standard Thai style uke call and response, perhaps a bit more sexy than most. But Thomas was really spectacular. All in all, a particularly sensual make-out scene, rare in this kind of BL. I applaud the actors and director.

These two are so lovely.

OMG Lee has a phi he likes? Where did this nugget of joy come from?

Hyung romance crumbs are a go! Just for me? How kind. Goodness Lee has got great game, watch that boy work. He certainly didn’t get it from his older brother. Also that was such a smooth approach, what a classy way to get permission to court. I don’t know why we got this inserted tiny short story, but I’m not mad about it. I hope we get more. But this is crumbs, can’t expect it. 

ThamePo (Fri YT) ep 5 of 12 - I love how Po understands Nano's feeling of heartbreak as just that, since to lose a friend (or friends) can be as painful as losing a lover. Po is such an empathic character, I love him so. 

The Heart Killers (Weds Gaga) ep 7 of 12 - I did bark with laughter at Style’s dad interrupting them. Also I enjoy the tension of knowing that there is doom in coming. It’s fun to watch these actors really stretch themselves to portray loving boyfriends with secrets. Bison looks like a determined little feral thing, Fadel just looks tired poor baby. 

Caged Again (Fri Gaga) ep 10 end - Pet fish baby + cat = snack…… EPIC. Also giving a cat a career as a stuntman is genius. 

Final Thoughts

A sweet and innocent show with an absurd premise = sunshine penguin + grumpy panther become human boys and fall in love. With great leads and sides, a solid (if campy) support cast, and sweetly queer backbone, this still never entirely resonated with me because it was just a little too slow. Still I can totally understand why others loved it so much. 8/10 

Fourever You (Thurs YT) ep 15 of 16 - I love that North has no artifice whatsoever. But frankly I’m really more interested in the 2 pairings still to come. If we are lucky. Arthit “getting bitten by piranhas” thing was hilarious. 

Sangmin Dinneaw (Sun iQIYI) ep 2 of 10 - Of course I love the argument over linguistics, this time honorifics. So good. But the rest of this ep was pretty slow. 

Perfect 10 Liners (Sun YT) ep 11 of 24 - Gun is a little dim, poor thing, but I do kinda adore him. Yotha is a bit of a melodramatic queen though I love how he deadpan responds to teasing and always acts exactly like a boyfriend. And I see GMMTV’s patented “single brain cell club” is back. 

The Boy Next World (Sun IQIYI) ep 1 of 10 - Well it’s certainly intriguing. And I like this pair better here than in their first series. 

Ossan‘s Love Thailand (Mon YouTube) ep 1 of 12 - Oof. Well, it’s better than the original, but that’s not saying much (from me). It’s slightly less overacted. I still find the lead utterly unappealing and I have no idea why anyone, including the audience, is supposed to be interested in him. But if he looks like Earth maybe it makes a little bit more sense? Mix is great. Honestly? This just made me wanna rewatch Thousand Stars.  

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

See Your Love (Taiwan Weds Gaga) ep 13 end - What a darling little show. I genuinely couldn’t have enjoyed it more. About a deaf care worker and his spoiled broken little prince. Taiwanese at its softest and best. Highly recommended. 

Our Youth AKA Miseinen: Mijukuna Oretachi wa Bukiyo ni Shinkochu (Japan Tues Gaga) ep 10 end - The feeding each other water thing when the water-bottle trope is so prevalent in JBL = just so good. 

Summation 

Adapted from a Korean Webtoon I can see why this went to Japan, it's super harsh for KBL Essentially a story about two lonely boys from opposite sides of the track who fall madly in love in high school, despite the fact that one is  repressed and the other abused. Despite a rough premise (trigger warnings) this is an oddly lovely little show. Darker than is my personal preference but sublimely stylish, turns out sometimes that combo works for me (see The 8th Sense). The world that springs to mind is “refined.” I enjoyed the restful distancing feel of the filming style.

This is an easy 9/10 from me. 

Eternal Butler (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 5 of 12 - I’m sorry but if you have a sex robot, he should be self lubing. Just saying. Also…… better at parking (pun not intended). I like the sides now. I’m enjoying this more than the first installment, easer power dynamic to digest. I do kinda adore the main couple and all their kinks. 

When it Rains it Pours (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 1 of 10 - Convoluted story about a man in a relationship who is sexually unfulfilled and his friend who is in love with him, who accidentally become secret confidants.

Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YT) ep 15 of ? - no time this week, two next week.

It's airing but......

Winter Is Not The Death of Summer (Thai ???) - has been picked up to air on WeTV, or something? Criminals who meet in prison fall in love. I did find it on YouTube, initially un-subbed, then subs happened by which time I got distracted. It is very pulp but intriguing. For now it's to the wayside until someone tells me it landed safely. Occasionally Thai pulps want to be edgy and it's not a good look on them. But sometimes they do good.

In Case You Missed it

End of year wraps are here!

2024 Trend Report

MY BEST & WORST BLs of 2024

Best Kisses (and sex scenes) of 2024

BL's 2024 Quirky Awards

2024 Awards - Quick Picks

Next Week Looks Like This:

January Drops

1/15 Impression of Youth (Taiwan Weds ????) 9 eps - Same team as DNA Says Love You, so I have high hopes.

2025 Line Up

BL Announced for 2025 - PART 1

BL Announced for 2025 - PART 2

20 BLs Announced for 2025 That I'm Really Excited About

GMMTV 2025 Line Up - My Totally Biased and Wildly Flawed Feels

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

It me. (Fourever You)

Gayest bridge in Thailand is back!

Love a good lap lie.

I NEED MOAR!!! (all Your Sky)

(last week)

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

[bonelessghoul]

me and the devil

Pairing: frontman x f!reader Summary: when you decided to join the games, you had been so removed from the life you once knew, but when an old face turns out to be another player, it changes everything for you. Note: after getting out that little tidbit I posted prior, I finally have the guts to get this out there. Thought this would be a cute way to tie in how they may have known each other before the games :) hope you all enjoy!! wc: 4.1k

~~~

Some time ago

The sound of an ambulance and police car entering the hospital driveway could be heard beyond the sliding doors, causing your heard to perk up behind the computer you sat at. It had been a long day already so you couldn’t even hide the disappointment in your sagged shoulders when a patient had come in with two paramedics.

“Evening!” said the paramedic at the front of the stretcher.

Your tired eyes were already on the elderly man in the stretcher. His frail frame, oxygen mask, and the nasty cough rattling underneath it painted a picture all too familiar.

“Feels like this is the dozenth time I’ve seen you guys today.” you said jokingly, but also with some truth underneath of it.

As you took the report and triaged the patient, it gave you a small sense of relief knowing he could be admitted quickly due to condition. Amid the overwhelming crowds and lingering illness, you found solace in these fleeting victories—a squeeze of a hand, a reassurance that someone would be cared for. But deep down, you knew the cycle would start anew when you clocked in tomorrow.

The paramedics took him to the room and you leaned against the counter, writing down the patients vitals so you could put them into the computer once you sat down but then, the door opened again.

“Please, not another one.” you mumbled, tiredly turning to the sliding doors that let in a gust of cold air from the outside.

But for the first time that day, a smile found your lips when a familiar police officer entered the premises.

“I promise I’m not dragging in another patient,” said Officer In Ho, his wide grin softening the fatigue etched on your face.

“Shouldn’t you be keeping the streets safe, In Ho?” you teased, shuffling toward him in your light-blue scrubs. Gratefully, you took the coffee like a kid handed a toy.

The shine of his badge didn’t escape your notice, nor did how well he looked in his black uniform. Newly promoted, his pride was evident in the way he carried himself—a gleam in his eyes, a certain confidence in his stride.

“Ah, I already did that a couple of times today,” he replied with a playful scoff. “Now my job is to make sure the hospital is safe—and ensure there are no tired nurses lingering about.”

As you sipped the coffee, sweetened with an absurd amount of cream and sugar just the way you liked it, you glanced around the ambulance bay. Feigning innocence, you shrugged.

“I’d say you’d have to arrest me then, but since I’m the only one working right now, you’d have to answer to my boss.”

In Ho laughed but tilted his head with concern. “Again? I feel like you’re here every day.”

Rolling your eyes, you retreated behind the desk to finish charting before he could distract you any further.

“Well, you wouldn’t know if you didn’t stop by every day. Don’t they track your patrol car?” you asked, shifting the conversation.

He followed, leaning his arms on the counter above your computer. His grin remained, impossible to ignore.

“Yes, but after that incident a couple of weeks ago when your patient started a fight in the parking lot, I generously offered to swing by.”

Yawning, you leaned back in your chair, coffee in hand. “I’m going to start a fight in the parking lot soon. But there’s only an hour left. I’ll survive.”

In Ho raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll clear out of your warpath.”

Laughing, you waved a fist at him. “You brought me coffee. You’re spared for now, Officer In Ho.”

A laugh bubbled in your throat, causing you to sit up and wave your fist at him.

“You brought me coffee, you are spared from my warpath for now, Officer In Ho.”

Most shifts went like this—fifteen or twenty blissful minutes of his company while his partner kept an ear on the radio. For a brief moment, you forgot you were at work. It wasn’t always this easy, though. You were good at your job, often placed in challenging situations. It was, after all, how you had met him.

Your reminiscing was interrupted by the urgent wail of another ambulance siren. Downing the rest of your coffee, you moved around In Ho as if he weren’t there, throwing on latex gloves and a fresh mask. The paramedic’s voice rang out as the ambulance doors opened.

“CPR in progress!”

You sprang into action, guiding the stretcher to the nearest room. In Ho stood outside, watching as the hive of medical staff buzzed around you. His eyes lingered on you, a memory surfacing—the day you first met.

Back then, he was a rookie cop, shadowing his unit. They brought in a gunshot victim, In Ho’s hands pressing desperately on the wound. As the stretcher came through, your eyes met across the chaos. You had taken over, applying pressure while barking orders to the team.

Now, as you jumped off the chest compressions to don a gown, you glanced over your shoulder. In Ho’s gaze was locked on you. With a quick, discreet salute, you turned back to work, your smile hidden behind the mask.

You two had met when In Ho was a brand new cop and you, a brand new nurse, when his unit he was shadowing with brought in a gun shot victim. In Ho had his hand over the bleeding wound and as the patient was brought onto the stretcher, you two met each other eye to eye as you stood on the other side of the bed and started to hold pressure for him.

~

To no surprise, your shift ended later than expected. Fatigue weighed heavy on your limbs as you stepped out under the night sky. Dragging yourself toward the bus stop, a familiar voice called out.

“Y/N!”

You blinked, surprised to see In Ho standing by the sidewalk, dressed in casual clothes. His shift had clearly ended hours ago.

“What the hell are you still doing here?” you asked, brows furrowing.

In Ho smiled, a touch of nervousness in his posture as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “I wasn’t sure if you got to finish your coffee earlier, so I thought I’d see if you’d like another drink.”

Despite your exhaustion, his offer made you smile. The thought of his presence had quickly become a comfort you didn’t want to imagine life without.

“Of course,” you said, watching his shoulders relax with relief.

Without a second thought, you took his hand, letting him lead you to a nearby bar. Together, you laughed and shared stories, the weight of the day momentarily forgotten.

But that’s all it ever was—and all it ever would be.

The coffee dates grew scarce, the nights picking you up from the hospital turned into you taking the bus, and both of you played a role in such sadness that filled its place. Your jobs were taxing but that was almost just an excuse to place on top of why he visited less and why you had taken up other assignments in the ER.

One night, you and a few of your coworkers, one of whom was a resident who was infatuated with you, went over to a local bar for soju and whatever apps you could order. It was a particularly difficult shift that warranted a drink, but when you walked in you were surprised to see In Ho with another woman.

The years of unspoken friendship, and maybe something more, shattered like glass within you. Little did you know, In Ho had felt the same when he watched the resident take your coat off for you.

In that moment though where you two made eye contact even across a crowded bar, you couldn’t help but smile a delicate and polite one. The color that had drained from his face faintly returned as he smiled back, nodding your way.

But it was the end of something you had both never had the guts to speak of out loud and that was torture in and of itself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Present Day

“The first light is Red Light, Green Light.”

In a swarm of green tracksuits, you stood among the four hundred or so players that surrounded you, tucking your white shirt underneath as the heat started to beat down your neck and tied the jacket around your waist.

“It’s just a child’s game,” you told yourself, trying to push aside the unease curling in your stomach.

The unnerving atmosphere constructed around you was all tied in at the larger than life doll at the other end of the room, facing you with the eyes of something much more than it let on.

In front of you, a mother and her son bickered softly. Their interaction brought a fleeting smile to your face, but the weight of how they ended up here pressed heavy on your mind. Before you could dwell, a frantic voice broke through the murmurs.

“This is not just a game! If you lose, you die!”

The crowd rippled with uneasy laughter, shocked at the sudden turn of events. A man near the front waved his arms, shouting to be heard and you stood on your toes to get a better look.

“If they catch you moving, they’ll kill you! They shoot you from somewhere above!”

“We’re going to die playing Red Light, Green Light?” a woman asked mockingly.

You chuckled softly with her, but the player up ahead was unrelenting and you couldn’t fend off the way your nerves started to react to it.

“If they catch you moving, they will kill you! They shoot you from somewhere up above!”

While the crowd had laughed off his attempts, brushing it off and eager for the game to start, you wiped your sweaty palms on your pants and tried to ignore him. But the pressure to keep your movements as strict as possible nipped at your mind.

“No matter what happens, don’t panic!”

But your heart started to race just a little faster when the time clock blinked on and your five minutes began. Just don’t get caught moving and you will be fine, you told yourself.

“Green light!” the childlike voice called.

Your legs moved before your mind did, ushering yourself forward and when the massive doll had said “Red Light!”, Player 456 had commanded the group to freeze.

You’d be hard pressed not to listen as the tension started creeping up your legs.

His commands were like clockwork and despite the path you wanted to forge for yourself, you found yourself following along. The stopping and going according to the doll who’s painted eyes stared through you was already nerve wracking as is and suddenly, you didn’t mind the directions by player 456.

“Freeze!”

“Cut it out, man. You’re freaking me out.” said player 390 who stood just a few feet ahead of you now.

The rounds were intermittently paced and you were becoming jumpy with every switch between red light and greed light. No one had been caught moving yet and your eyes moved as much as they could without your face moving a muscle to scan who surrounded you now.

But then, at the sound of a shrill scream of a woman up ahead, your eyes widened at the sight of a younger girl flailing her arms around to swat something away.

You held your breath as you waited to see what would happen to her, gasping when the gunshot rang through the arena and went right through her head.

Your soul had jumped out from your skin and you worried that such a slight jolt would put you in the same fate as the girl.

But even when you thought it would keep everyone still the way it did to you, one woman screamed only to be shot as well, and that’s when everyone started to run for their lives.

It took every fiber of your being to not move with every gunshot that rang out, rapidly firing so close to you that you could hear its trajectory in the air. It made your ears ring and you couldn’t quite here player 456 anymore but the echoes of his yelling were clear.

But your legs had begun to shake, and you hesitated before moving forward again.

When Player 456 ran to the front of the group though, his shoulder just passing yours, you didn’t dare waste another second and your legs sprung back into action. The player had been right all along and you wouldn’t dare question it now.

“Everyone get into a line! Get behind someone bigger than you. We have to move before time runs out!”

There was no time to be strategic about this, merging together with the nearest line and finding yourself behind a girl about your height. It didn’t seem like a bad decision until you watched her nearly double over in pain. She was clutching her stomach, and her other hand had desperately clung to the mother you saw earlier. Your blood ran cold, hesitant to keep your hold on this girl for fear she would ruin it all, but as the next green light had been called, you noticed why exactly she carried her belly.

“I got you!” you said to her with a firm reassurance, steadying your hands on her hips as you all skidded to a halt again.

A cry came from her and your heart sunk as the mother in front of her tried to calm her too.

Your eyes were burning onto the larger than life doll up ahead as the clock winded down, hoping you three hadn’t given yourselves away.

“Green light.”

“Let’s go!” player 456, waving everyone across.

With a surge of determination, you grabbed the girl’s hand and pulled her forward. The red line loomed closer with each stride. Together, you crossed it, your arm wrapped around her to keep her upright. Relief flooded through you as the mother stumbled forward to meet her, checking her frantically.

You stepped back, your chest heaving as you untied the jacket from your waist and let it fall, the heat radiating off you in waves. The moment was short-lived.

A commotion behind the finish line made you turn. Player 456 was running back onto the field. Your jaw dropped in disbelief as you watched him race toward Player 444, who was still alive but bleeding heavily from his leg.

“What is he doing?” you muttered, clutching the jacket in your hands.

The doll called out, “Red light!” You flinched, certain he wouldn’t make it. But then Player 120 appeared at the other side of Player 444, helping him stand.

“Green light!”

Cheers erupted as the three crossed the line just before the timer hit zero. You moved toward them, adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

“Let me help!” you urged, dropping to your knees beside them.

You tied your jacket tightly around Player 444’s leg as a makeshift tourniquet, your hands trembling. But before you could take a breath, another shot rang out.

Something warm splattered across your face. Your body went cold, and your hands stilled as the weight of what had just happened sank in. You couldn’t bring yourself to look, your gaze locked on the blood-soaked fabric beneath your fingers.

“We did what we could,” Player 456 said shakily, lowering the man to the ground.

Player 120 helped you to your feet, her grip steady despite the devastation etched into her face. You slung your jacket over your arm, unable to bear the thought of leaving it behind. The horrors of what had just happened clawed at the edges of your mind, but you shoved them down, forcing yourself to move back toward the others.

Player 456 caught your gaze, his hand resting briefly on your shoulder. His eyes, filled with a sorrow you now understood, met yours.

“Nothing we did would have stopped them from killing him anyway.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, the irony of his words striking too close to home. Player 456 didn’t know what your profession was, but you were bitterly reminded of having to tell similar words to patient families in what felt like a lifetime ago. He tilted his head, confusion flickering across his face, but you shook your head, unwilling to explain.

In that moment, you decided: whatever heart you had left wasn’t meant for this place. Whatever tether you had to the world outside had already been severed.

~

When everyone returned to the sleeping quarters, it came time to vote under the watchful eyes of the pink guards. But first, they revealed the staggering amount of money accumulated so far. The sight of it gripped your heart, the endless possibilities flashing through your mind. What could you do with that prize? Pay off your debts, maybe start over. But the thought soured quickly—even with that money, would it be enough?

As Player 149 and her son, 007, begged among others to be released, you couldn’t help but avert your gaze. A guilty knot tightened in your stomach. Their desperation mirrored the fear you tried to bury deep inside yourself.

The lights dimmed, casting an eerie glow over the room. The blue O and red X on opposite walls illuminated the fine line players were forced to cross after their vote. The tension was suffocating as you turned the question over in your mind: Did you want to go home? Could you even go home?

The emptiness that brought you here clawed at you, a cold, relentless reminder of what awaited you beyond these walls. The fear of returning with nothing—of your share not being enough—fueled your indecision. But was it worth dying for?

Numbers swirled in your mind, an ache reverberating through your chest. And then it hit you: the crushing weight of your debts had left you feeling dead already.

“Player 175,” the guard called.

Your heart sank as the reality of your turn struck.

Walking up the aisle, every pair of eyes burned into your back. Your chest rose and fell unevenly with each step, eager to end the torment. But even when faced with the podium, your hand hesitated over the buttons.

The image of the pregnant girl, the mother, and Player 444’s blood on your jacket haunted you. It went against everything you believed in. And yet, survival instinct whispered a selfish truth you couldn’t ignore: this wasn’t about them. It was about you.

Your clammy hand jerked forward to press the O button.

The buzz of confirmation rang out, and you grabbed the blue patch without looking back. Cries of joy and sorrow mixed in the air as the O’s pulled ahead. Returning to your place, you clenched your jaw, ignoring the murmurs of gratitude from those who’d chosen to stay.

You didn’t do it for them.

“You can’t do this! Come to your senses!” Player 456’s voice rang out, breaking through the noise.

You lifted your head to see him running to the center of the room, desperation etched into his features.

“We have to get out of here! We need the majority vote so we can go home!”

The weight of his plea pressed on you, but the arguments that followed were deafening. Player 100 shot back, “Did they put you down here to act like a player and rile us all up?”

Accusations flew, tensions rising as players shouted over each other. The pink guards stood stoically, like silent sentinels overseeing the chaos. Just when it seemed the room would boil over, Player 149 ran forward, her voice cutting through the noise.

“If it were not for this gentleman, we would not be alive! Stop with the greed and put your lives first!”

Her words brought a brief silence, but it didn’t last. The room erupted once more, voices trying to challenge each other. You had hoped 456 would give up at this rate, seeing as he stood in the center of it all with a loss of words.

But then he shouted over everyone, “I only know about the games because I already played it! Three years ago! Everyone who was with me died!”

A heavy silence fell over the room. You couldn’t say you were surprised, but disbelief still rippled among you and the players. If there was any hope of getting out of here, you knew he would be the right person to stay near if these dreadful games continued. But nonetheless, player 100 threw out another accusation, a conspiracy that he had been planted here and finally, the pink guards quelled the bickering and had to continue the voting.

You watched as the line of undecided players dwindled. Each vote felt like a nail in the coffin of your resolve. Deep in thought, your vision blurred as you stared at the scoreboard. A movement beside you broke your focus. Player 120 stood there, her presence steady and unassuming. She had chosen to stay.

You offered a polite smile, which she returned. The two of you stood in a shared, uneasy silence as the vote drew closer to its conclusion.

“You, uh, you were quick to try and help that player earlier. It was impressive,” she said softly, her voice almost drowned out by the hum of the room.

You blinked, caught off guard. “I… thank you,” you stammered. “Trying to tourniquet his leg wouldn’t have done much overall, I guess.”

The dryness of your tone surprised even you. Her wide-eyed reaction made you chuckle nervously. To your relief, she mirrored your grim humor with a quiet snicker.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, shaking your head. “I work at a hospital with a big trauma center. It… it wears you down.”

“I served for some time, so I understand,” Player 120 replied.

Despite your earlier resolve to keep to yourself, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope that she might be an ally. Among the ruthless others who had voted to stay, she seemed different—steadfast, but not cold.

Finally, the last ten players cast their votes. The air was thick with anticipation as the numbers on the scoreboard crept closer to a tie. Your heart pounded, a maddening loop of questions echoing in your mind. Then, Player 001 stepped forward.

You hadn’t thought of it til now how strange being player 001 must feel, the entire weight of the games future at his hand. He walked with a quiet confidence, his every movement deliberate. You and Player 120 leaned forward, watching intently as he reached the podium.

The soft buzz of confirmation filled the room as he pressed the O button. The scoreboard shifted, casting the room in a faint blue glow. The decision was final: the games would continue.

The cheers from some players were a stark contrast to the defeated cries of others. You swallowed hard, your gaze drifting to the crowd that had wanted to go home. Their anguish was a sharp reminder of what you had chosen to forsake. It was your job to heal people, to care for them in their darkest moments.

But as you turned your head back toward the front, your gaze landed on the newest arrival to your side of the games. The reveal of Player 001s face hit you like a jolt of whiplash and your breath got caught in your throat.

It had been so long since you’d seen him that, for a moment, you wondered if it was a trick of the dim light. His face was older now, shadows playing across his features in the red and blue glow. But it was him. There was no mistaking it.

He hadn’t noticed you yet. The crowd around him welcomed him as though he were any other player. You stood frozen on the ground that was pulled out from beneath you, unsure whether to hide or step forward. But when he began retreating to the O side, his eyes finally found yours.

It felt like fire across your chest when you noticed that he recognized you.

He stopped mid-step, only a few yards away now. Something invisible seemed to tether him to the spot as his gaze burned into you.

“In Ho?” you whispered, the name barely audible over the noise.

You weren’t even sure he could hear it, but it slipped out anyway.

His face tensed, the muscles of his jaw tightening as he fought to keep his expression neutral. But the name had reached him.

“Y/N,” he said finally, the words heavy, almost forced.

Whatever you had thought you were fighting for before—money, survival—was irrelevant now. In Ho’s presence brought back a piece of your life you had long buried. Now, it stood before you, trapped in this brutal game of life and death.

[oldsoul007]

loving you, loving me

joel miller x reader

summary: y/n and joel save time for the little moments in their busy schedules

a/n: veryyy domestic, kissing

joel miller masterlist

The sun had barely risen when I stirred awake. The soft light filtered through the bedroom window, casting gentle shadows across the room. I shifted, my body still heavy with sleep, but the warm weight of Joel beside me made it hard to stay asleep. He was still tangled in the covers, a few strands of his messy brown hair sticking to his forehead.

I smiled softly, brushing them away, the quiet intimacy of the moment making my heart flutter. Before I could think, my hand found its way to his arm, fingers tracing the familiar muscle beneath his worn-out shirt. Joel stirred just a little, his breath deepening as if he could sense my touch even in his sleep.

“Morning, handsome,” I whispered, leaning down to kiss the side of his cheek.

“Mmm,” Joel muttered, eyes still closed. “Mornin’.”

His voice was gravelly from sleep, but there was something comforting about it. Something that made the rush of our busy lives seem insignificant in this small pocket of quiet. He cracked an eye open, meeting my gaze with a smile that softened his rough exterior.

“I have to get up soon,” I murmured, already dreading the coming hours. “But I don’t want to leave you yet.”

“I know, I don’t want you to either.” Joel reached for me, pulling me into a brief but tender embrace. “But you have work, and I gotta get to the construction site.”

We both groaned at the reality of our hectic schedules, the same routine we’d shared for years. I leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips before slipping out of bed. He watched me go, a sense of longing in his chest as he sat up, but he didn’t say anything—just let his gaze linger on me for a few moments before he started his own morning routine.

Later, at the office, I sat hunched over a pile of paperwork, the soft hum of the fluorescent lights above the only sound in the quiet office. I was buried deep in numbers when I felt the briefest sensation—someone’s fingers grazing against mine. Startled, I looked up and found Joel standing in the doorway, grinning like a schoolboy.

“Don’t you have a meeting?” I whispered, though my heart skipped a beat.

“I do,” he said, voice low. “But I needed to steal a kiss from my wife.” He leaned down just enough to plant a soft kiss on my lips, just a touch—so quick, but full of warmth.

I smiled, the weight of the day momentarily lifted. “I needed that.”

“I’ll be back tonight, okay?” He squeezed my hand before turning to go, leaving my heart full and my work still waiting.

The hours between our brief exchanges seemed endless. By the time I got home that evening, the house was quiet, the air a little cooler, and the sun was setting in a soft cascade of oranges and pinks. I kicked off my shoes and headed toward the kitchen, where Joel was busy making dinner, his shirt rolled up at the sleeves.

“Smells good in here,” I said, my voice carrying a bit of weariness from the long day.

Joel turned, a smile immediately spreading across his face as he crossed the room. “I thought we could eat together tonight, no interruptions. Just us.”

I felt a rush of affection and walked straight into his arms. I didn’t say anything—just pressed my face into his chest, feeling the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat. He held me like that for a long moment, his hands moving gently up and down my back.

“I missed you today,” I murmured.

“I missed you too.” He kissed the top of my head, a soft, lingering gesture. “But hey, I think we both know there’s no such thing as too much love, right?”

I chuckled softly. “You say that now, but you’ve got a lot of work ahead of you.”

“We’ll manage,” Joel said, his voice warm with certainty. “I’ll find ways to sneak kisses in. I’ll make sure you never forget I’m here.”

And so, it went. The days were busy, the hours long, but whenever we could, we stole moments together. A touch of my hand while making coffee, a kiss on the cheek when no one was looking, an embrace that lasted just a little longer than it should have. Those tiny moments made up for the time we were apart.

At night, after the world had quieted, and the chaos of our separate lives had finally simmered down, we sat side by side, Joel’s hand nestled in mine, his fingers drawing circles against my palm. The silence between us was never uncomfortable—it was the kind of silence that spoke volumes, the kind that only two people who had been through years of life together could understand.

“I love you, y/n,” Joel whispered as we both settled in for the night, the room dark except for the faint light coming through the window.

“i love you too,” I replied, turning my face to him, my lips seeking his for a final, soft kiss of the day.

And as we lay there, with nothing but the sound of each other’s breath and the occasional murmur of affection, we knew our love—quiet, steady, and full of those small, meaningful moments—was more than enough to keep us going through the busiest of days.

[antinousletmehit]

Heeyyy beautiful human 🫶

Was wondering if you could do another tiresias x fem!reader?? He sees everything in the future...except her 😮(Bella and Edward who?) and she's super blunt and straight up tell him he's pretty

Idk if this made any sense 😭

Luv u <333

୨୧┇Pairing: Tiresias x Fem!reader

୨୧┇enjoy!

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

Tiresias sat on a weathered stone, his mind was elsewhere, piecing together fragments of futures yet to unfold. You approached cautiously, the crunch of your footsteps breaking the silence. You weren’t intimidated by the prophet, but there was a way in how you carried yourself, as though stepping too loudly might unravel the fabric of his visions.

“Another visitor,” Tiresias said before you could speak. His voice was deep and calm, with a weight that seemed to come from knowing too much. “Odysseus sent you?” You shook your head, realizing that he couldn’t see you. “No. I came on my own.”

His head tilted slightly, and though his empty eyes couldn’t meet yours, you felt the sharpness of his attention. “Curious,” he murmured. “Most people come to me seeking answers, yet I can’t seem to see you.” You blinked, surprised. “You can’t see me?”

“I see all futures, all fates,” he said, gesturing with his hand. “I see past and future running free. But you…You’re an strange. I can’t see yours.” You tilted your head, considering his words. “Does that bother you?”

“Bother?” Tiresias chuckled dryly. “It intrigues me. I’ve seen the rise and fall of kings, the betrayals of lovers, the deaths of humans. And yet, you remain a mystery.” There was a pause, long enough that you started to feel the weight of his gaze—or lack of—again. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, biting your lip before deciding to speak.

“You’re pretty,” you said, completely straight-faced.

Tiresias blinked, his usually composed demeanor faltering for a moment. “What?”

“I said, you’re pretty,” you repeated, folding your arms as if daring him to argue. His lips parted slightly, as though he was searching for a response but couldn’t quite find one. Of all the futures, all the fates he’d witnessed, this was clearly not something he’d predict.

“No one’s ever said that to me before,” he finally admitted, his voice softer than before.

“Well, they should,” you said with a shrug. “You’ve got that whole mysterious, wise thing going for you. It works.” Tiresias let out a breath that was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “You’re a strange one.”

“Thanks,” you replied, grinning.

For a moment, the silence between you wasn’t heavy or ominous, it was warm, almost comfortable. Tiresias tilted his head again, as though trying to see you in a way his visions couldn’t.

“Why are you really here?” he asked after a beat. You met his blind gaze with unwavering honesty. “Maybe I just wanted to see the great Tiresias for myself. Turns out, you’re not so scary.”

He chuckled again, shaking his head. “You’re either very brave or very foolish.”

“Maybe both,” you said lightly. “But if it makes you feel better, you don’t need to see my future. I’m not that interesting.”

“On the contrary,” he murmured, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You may be the most interesting person I’ve encountered in a long time.” Your grin widened, and without thinking, you reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Tiresias didn’t flinch or pull away. Instead, he simply sat there.

[revelboo]

Would it be okay for a chapter two for Sunder and reader? I love this mech and I wanna know how he'd feel with reader just blocking his access to their memories. Memoryblocked 🙏

Sure!

Whipped Cream Pt 2

Sunder x Reader

• Servos flexing, his smile grows strained. That you can shut him out unexpectedly fascinating. “So much fear. I understand,” he croons as you watch him. Tensed like you want to bolt, but there’s nowhere to go. And you are calming, responding unconsciously to his soothing voice to let him slip back inside your mind. Keeping his touch light so you won’t kick him out again as he shivers and delights in your fears, your dreams. “Poor little love, to wake up somewhere strange. Alone and afraid? I’m here now, though.” Wants a taste of you, to touch you.

• That voice is crushed velvet stroking over you, almost hypnotic. Soothing the fear away until you want to find a way up there with him, curl up against him and rest safe there. That feeling of well being whispering through you even as there’s still the sense of something being very wrong jangling in the back of your mind. He shifts and the chains binding him clatter and you focus on that sound. “Chains,” you whisper, head lifting to find those blue optics. “Why are you chained down?” And when had you gotten so close to him? Hadn’t ever realized you’d moved, but now you notice the thin, sharp needles extended from his fingertips, skin crawling as they retract.

• “They don’t understand me. They fear me, but you have nothing to fear from me. I’d never hurt you,” he says, straining against his chains, hips lifting. You keep slipping out of his control, distracting him from gorging himself on your memories. Challenging him and it spreads like liquid fire through his lines. Goes straight to his spike. What would that feel like? To frag you while he gluts himself on your memories? Mnemonic needles slipping back out, his hips rock upward. Can’t reach his spike even if he freed it to touch himself. And the collar around his neck is keeping him locked mass displaced. A laughable attempt to mitigate how much of a threat he is, but this size? He could have you. “I’m so lonely for the feel of a hand in mine, little love.” So hungry. Starving and you’re deliciously tempting.

• The surface he’s chained to is taller than you are, but you’re almost certain you can jump enough to catch a chain and pull yourself up with him. No. Why would you want to do that? Cup his face between your palms and lean down to brush your mouth against his mindful of those spikes on his chassis. You don’t even know him, shaking your head, you press your fingers against your temples. “Stop that. Stay out of my head.” Because it’s him again. Screwing with you. Confusing you.

• “Such a clever, love.” Grinning, he laughs as you scowl. Oh, you’re going to be a delight to break, twisting you to his will. “I only want to touch you. Make you feel so good. You want that, don’t you? My body, my spike yours to use?” Sees your brow furrow, tastes your confusion, and he undulates his hips as much as he can bound, rocking his hips up and pretending he’s rutting against you and your face reddens. But you don’t look away.

Previous

[lanalosty0uu]

⋆.˚ chapter i: ahoy! ᝰ.ᐟ

🕰️ BACK TO THE FUTURE 🕰️

warning: slight cussing, time travel confusion.

main masterlist

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

The next day you wake up, you felt weird textures coming up to your nose. It felt like… dust. You woke yourself up by sneezing hard, first sneeze of the day. What else felt off? It was your room that was being quiet different… Scratch that, it was completely different from when you slept on last night. The room that Mrs. Byers made you sleep in for the rest of your exchange days, the once nice purple room with soft bed, now turned into a horrifying, messy, and filled with dust.

You unlocked your phone to look for any notifications

9.13 P.M. Friday, 27th June 2025 No new notifications

P.M? But the sun is literally shining outside? And Friday is yesterday... Today's supposed to be Saturday? Things are starting to feel off, so you stood up and went out of the house.

The once beautiful house seems to be... Abandoned, now. All glass are falling out of it's place, boards covering some of the window and doors. It looks like there's no one ever lived on this place. You kept looking around in confusion as you went out of the house, coughing like a sick maniac.

"What the hell?"

You started walking down the neigborhood, passing all these big houses along the way. This still looks like Hawkins, though... But, something feels different. Seeing all the people dress weirdly like they're in some kind of cosplay event.

As you kept walking, the town starts to get crowded. Looking at these people give you the creeps, but what actually gives you the chills are the fact that lots of people stare at you as you walk. You don't feel like you're dressing weird, you feel normal. Black T-shirt, baggy jeans, and red converse, with a dark red flannel, yet these people just can't take their eyes off your, like you just comitted some murder.

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✧˖°.

You saw a building in front of you.

STARCOURT MALL

A neon sign says above the mall's entrance. The neon signs was already lit up even though it was still... Probably like 10 or 11 A.M? You don't really know what time is it now, since the clock on your phone basically stopped at 9 at night.

The whole vibe of the mall felt off. It’s like… you’re in the backrooms… Might as well watch too much TikTok videos, you thought. But, you were actually convincing yourself that al this doesn’t seem right. It felt like a dream. Well, at least your phone’s clock stopping is a sign that you’re dreaming, it doesn’t make any sense, right?

The mall was filled with people and shoppers of all ages, it was like the mall was just opened a couple of days ago. You really want to ask the people here about where you are and why do these people dress weirdly.

scratch that.

You only want to ask about where you are right now. Even though this whole places does look like Hawkins, but it doesn’t feel like Hawkins. Sadly, your urge to ask the people around you isn’t strong enough, compared by how these people look like they’re enjoying their time at the mall. You don’t wanna be some party pooper who just ask random people a nonsense question and ruin their mood. Until finally, you found a not-so-busy ice cream store.

The yellow colored sign with blue background, that was surrounded by red light edges says

SCOOPS AHOY ice cream parlor

You saw a guy, leaning on the counter, as if he’s so done with his job. You decided to ask the guy about your question(s) earlier since he doesn’t look so busy.

“Ahoy, there! Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain… I’m Steve Harrington.”

His sudden ice cream jingle scared the shit out of you, it made you widening your eyes at him.

“Hi, uhm… mind telling me where am i now?”

"You're in Scoops Ahoy Ice Cream Parlor, ma'am... How may I help you?" The man answered your stupid question with a bored tone. Geez, he must hate his job so much, huh?

"No, I mean... Where am I excatly now?"

The man in front of you squinted his eyes, like he's being suspicious with me.

"You're in Hawkins, Indiana. The United States of America." He responded once again, as if I have no idea where Hawkins is. So this is actually Hawkins? Indiana? Why so different?

You looked around the ice cream shop, leaving the man staring at you in confusion. You pay attention to every detail in it like some kind of detective trying to solve a murder mystery, even if you can still feel the man's eyes on you through your every move.

"Ma'am, are you okay? You need help with anything?"

"No, no... I'm fine, don't worry." Your voice says otherwise, though.

Your eyes finally stopped at the box shaped television on the counter, showing a news broadcast about the newly builded mall, this Starcourt Mall.

"...the year 1985 will surely be a memorable year for us, the people of Hawkins, getting a chance to witness and experience the beautiful Starcourt Mall..."

You felt like your head was spinning when you hear the words: 1985.

“Ma'am, are you sure you’re okay? or do i need to call a doctor?” His face is fully concerned of your well being right now. Instead of answering him, your eyes travelled from the television back to the man's direction.

“What year is it now?"

“it’s 1985? duh..?”

And that's the moment when you knew.

You are doomed.

note: finally, the first chapter's here! i really, reaaallyyyyy hope y'all like it! i'll make sure to post daily since i also need to catch up with some school stuff here. if there's any confusion about this whole time travel thingy (trust me, i was also pretty confused with my own thoughts) feel free to ask! and feel free to request to be on my taglist! happy reading <3

taglist: @xprloki @pupwrites @gorlillaglue25 @lovestrucklyuniverse

[moonstruckme]

Mae I feel like we always see the boys doting on reader and I love it! But also I would love a lil fic where may be James or Sirius gets sick or injured and it's reader just taking care of him and being so cautious and loving and doting on him

Thanks for requesting!

cw: modern au, MCL injury, James is not good at recovery

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 912 words

Your senses prickle at a sound from the sitting room. 

“James,” you call warily, hands stilling in the dishwater.

“Yes, my angel?” 

“Are you sitting down?” 

A brief silence. 

“I found some exercises—” 

“James.” You round the corner to the sitting room to find your boyfriend lying on the floor, looking up at you with eyes big and guileless. You wipe your wet hands on your jeans. “You’re only supposed to be icing it,” you sigh. 

“There’s no harm in getting an early start on recovery, right?” He grins his lopsided grin, hopelessly endearing. “I found some exercises online and the website says I can start right away. They’re very gentle.” 

“I don’t think the website knows more about your knee than your team’s PT, lovely,” you say, kneeling beside him. You soothe your fingertips over the velcro edge of his brace. 

James gets injured fairly often playing rugby. That’s no new thing to either of you, but he’s not used to needing to take such a long break after an injury. He tore a ligament in his knee during a match last week—you don’t remember the exact name of the ligament, but the word collateral had seared itself into your brain, recognizable and frightening—and apparently that is one of the few things the team’s PT requires players to actually take a substantial leave for. James is due to start recovery therapy in a few days, but for now he’s only meant to be resting and icing the injury. He is not taking it well. 

“You could make it worse by doing more than you’re supposed to,” you tell him gently, stroking his calf below the brace. “Don’t, okay? I really don’t like seeing you hurt.” 

James’ expression softens. He sits up, giving you a nice kiss. “I’m okay, sweetheart.” 

“Don’t make it worse,” you say again. 

“Okay. I won’t.” 

“Thank you.” You kiss him in return, stroking the hair that curls by his ears. “Will you come sit back on the couch, please? Where are your crutches?” 

James makes a low sound, caught anew. “Upstairs.” 

“You didn’t even bring them down?” 

“I get along just fine without them,” he says, pecking your chin placatingly. “Don’t worry.” 

You sigh and coil his curl around your finger. James gives you a smile, sweet and hopeful. Don’t be mad, it begs you. 

Your lips turn up a bit in response as you stand and reach your hands down to him. “Come on, then.” 

James lets you help him back over to the couch. He flops down onto the cushions dejectedly, taking the ice pack when you give it to him and holding it to his knee. Sympathy swells in your ribcage. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I know you’re bored.” 

“It’s not your fault that it’s boring. I just wish I could do things I want to, like usual.” He tries on a grin for your benefit, a poor approximation of the real thing. “I know it won’t be for long.” 

You chew the inside of your lip. You know you have to get back to the dishes, but you can’t stand to leave him like this even to go to the next room. 

“What would you do, if your knee was like normal?” 

James’ grin turns wry. “I’d go to training.” 

“Okay, right.” You roll your eyes, leaning your hip against the side of the couch. “But while you were at training, all hot and tired and stuff, what would you be wishing you were doing instead?”

James lifts his eyebrows, contemplative. His gaze moves to you. “I suppose,” he says, “I’d be wishing I was here with you.” 

Your heart warms. “What would we be doing?” 

He grins. 

“You’re not cleared for that, either,” you say quickly, laughing. 

“Fine, fine.” He feigns annoyance, but his smile gives him away. “In that case, I’d settle for a film and a good cuddle.” 

You nod, stepping closer to the couch. “I can do that,” you say. “I don’t know how good it’ll be, but…” 

“Oh, you haven’t got anything to worry about there, angel.” James takes your hip once you’re close enough, tugging you down beside him. You’re careful not to fall too close to his injured leg. “You’ve got an excellent track record.” 

“Do I?” 

He hums, kissing you. 

“I’m not hurting you, sitting here?” 

“You’re perfect,” he assures you. He gives your hip another tug to bring you closer. “Get comfortable, I’ll tell you if it’s too much.” 

You do as he says, still cautious as you cozy up to his side, encouraging him to lean into you. James rewards you by nuzzling his face into the side of yours, happy as a clam. His voice softens as he drops it to a more genuine register. 

“I’m not keeping you from anything,” he asks, “am I?”

You shake your head. “The dishes can wait. I’d rather be with you.” 

“Christ, lovie. I can still do dishes.” 

“You’re supposed to be resting!” 

James makes an amused huffing sound. “Okay, new deal. After the film, I’ll go do the dishes while you handle the more laborious task of laundry or something. Sound fair?” 

When you’re silent, he laughs. 

“You can’t force me to sit on this couch forever! I’ll atrophy!” 

“Maybe we can see how you feel after the film.” 

“You’re ridiculous.” He stamps a kiss on your cheek. “I’ll sneak and do the dishes in the night if I have to.” 

“You will not.”