#I feel like I said this before. saying it again

[gf2bellamy]

drunk — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: spencer is drunk and is spilling things about your relationship content warnings: established relationship, drunk spencer, the team mocking them a/n: i've never had a sip of alcohol so if i made any mistake i'm very sorry honestly i just went of what i've seen in tv shows, movies and books

The neon glow of the bar cast a warm haze over the room as you sat nestled in the corner booth, sipping your soda.

The ice clinked softly against the glass as you absentmindedly swirled the straw, half-listening to Garcia and Emily’s gossip.

Their conversation faded into the background, however, as your attention drifted elsewhere—specifically, to the two men across the room. 

Spencer Reid, cheeks flushed and eyes bright, was talking at a rapid pace, gesturing wildly with his hands as Derek Morgan grinned at him, clearly entertained. Your brows furrowed as Derek slid another drink into Spencer’s hands. 

You sighed, not bothering to hide your disapproval. 

“What’s up with you?” Emily asked, her head tilting slightly as she sipped from her drink. 

“That.” You nodded toward the scene unfolding across the room. 

Emily followed your gaze just in time to see Spencer take another eager gulp of whatever Derek had handed him. A second later, Derek’s mouth dropped open before he burst into laughter, clapping Spencer on the back like a proud older brother. 

“Yeah… Morgan’s having way too much fun with drunk Spencer,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes at them. 

Spencer, completely unaware of your scrutiny, continued rambling, his hands moving faster than his words. Meanwhile, Derek's smile just grew bigger and bigger.

Garcia snorted. “Oh, come on, it’s adorable.” 

You weren’t sure if you’d call it adorable. More like mildly concerning. Because if history had taught you anything, drunk Spencer Reid was unpredictable—and God help anyone who had to deal with him when the alcohol finally hit its peak. 

And from the looks of it, the moment was about to happen or based on Derek's grin , has happened already.

“What is he doing?” you mumbled, eyes narrowing as you watched the two of them. You had a bad feeling about this. 

Garcia glanced at you with a smirk. “Sweetheart, we are at a bar. That’s what people do. You know… drink?” She gestured pointedly at your own glass. 

You scoffed, lifting your soda in mock acknowledgment. “Yeah, well, some of us have to drive,” you muttered before taking another sip. 

Before Garcia could quip back, you caught movement out of the corner of your eye. Derek had turned toward you, a slow, knowing grin spreading across his face.

Oh no. 

Your stomach dropped. “Oh god,” you muttered. 

Oblivious to what was happening around him, Spencer continued rambling, hands flailing dramatically.

You watched, unamused, as Derek made his way over to you, his smirk growing wider with every step.

Trailing beside him, Spencer was entirely oblivious. He barely paid attention to where he was walking, nearly stumbling into Derek at one point, but that didn’t stop him. 

When they finally reached your booth, Derek didn’t even bother with pleasantries. Instead, he kept his gaze locked on you, his grin downright devious. 

“You don’t say?” he mused, clearly continuing whatever conversation Spencer had been having—though it was obvious his real focus was on you. 

Spencer finally seemed to register where he was, his hazy eyes flickering to you. He blinked, as if surprised to see you there. 

“Hi,” he said, his voice slightly softer than before. 

Before you could respond, he slid into the booth beside you—well, more like half on top of you. He scooted in so close that his thigh was practically draped over yours. 

You stared at him. “Hi.” 

He grinned, leaning in ever so slightly, the scent of alcohol and something distinctly Spencer clinging to him. His eyes, glassy but bright, studied your face with open admiration, like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. 

His curls were a mess, strands falling over his face, making him look even more disheveled than usual. You reached up instinctively, tucking a stray lock behind his ear, but he barely seemed to notice. 

“Seems like you’re having fun,” you murmured, shifting your gaze to Derek, who was watching the interaction with barely contained amusement. 

Derek simply shrugged. “Guess so.” 

You turned back to Spencer, who was still staring at you—completely dazed, his hazel eyes glassy and unfocused, like you were the most fascinating thing in the room. 

With a chuckle, Derek turned his attention to Garcia and Emily, leaving you to deal with your very drunk boyfriend. 

“You okay?” you asked softly, tilting your head as you brushed more of his hair out of his face. 

Spencer hummed in response, his eyes fluttering shut for a second before he blinked them open again. “Mhm.” 

You let your fingers linger in his curls, absentmindedly threading through them, and Spencer melted under your touch. 

“What were you telling Derek back there?” you asked, keeping your voice gentle, watching as his eyelids drooped slightly. 

He mumbled something incoherent before finally managing, “M’don’t remember.” 

Before you could press further, he sighed contently and let his head drop onto your shoulder, his body going slack against yours. 

Your hand was still tangled in his hair and you felt his breath fan against your neck as he let out another sleepy hum. 

Now Garcia and Emily were both staring at you, matching grins on their faces. You frowned. 

“What?” you asked warily. 

Emily’s smile widened. “Oh, nothing. It’s just… Spencer had a lot to say about you.” 

On cue, Spencer lifted his head from your shoulder at the sound of his name, his movements slow and a little clumsy. You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. 

His brows furrowed in concentration, as if trying to grasp onto a fleeting thought. “I remember now,” he said, dragging out the words, squeezing his eyes shut like that might help jog his memory. “I think.” 

You waited, not sure if you wanted to hear whatever was about to come out of his mouth. 

“I told them… about how much you like touching my hair,” he finally said, his voice a little too loud, like he was completely unaware of the fact that everyone was now hanging onto his every word. 

Your mouth fell open. “What?” 

You whipped your head toward Emily, Garcia, and Derek—who were all watching you with knowing smirks, looking way too amused for your liking. 

“Oh, and I told them about how you—” he paused, blinking a few times, “—always trace patterns on my back when you think I’m asleep.” 

Your face burned. 

Spencer, oblivious to your horror, continued, his voice dreamy and soft. “And how you always steal my cardigans, even though you claim they drown you and make you look ridiculous. But I know you secretly love wearing them.”

Derek let out a full laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, this is gold.” 

Garcia sighed dramatically, clutching her chest. “That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.” 

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Spencer, why—” 

He leaned in even closer, his lips nearly brushing your ear as he whispered—though it wasn’t much of a whisper at all, given his current state—“And I told them that you—” 

You slapped a hand over his mouth before he could say anything else. 

Spencer blinked at you, wide-eyed, and you felt his lips curl into a grin against your palm. 

“Okay, Spence, I need you to stop talking now,” you said firmly, your hand still covering his mouth. 

Spencer blinked at you, his hazel eyes glassy with amusement. Slowly , hesitantly , you removed your hand, watching him like he was a ticking time bomb. 

Then you turned to your friends. 

“Don’t,” you warned, narrowing your eyes as Derek parted his lips, no doubt ready to deliver some smart remark. 

Derek smirked. “But—” 

“Don’t say anything,” you groaned, already exhausted, cutting him off with a pointed look. 

Emily took a slow, deliberate sip of her drink, her expression entirely unreadable as she observed the chaos unfolding in front of her. 

Penelope, however, was a different story. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” she cooed, placing a hand over her heart as she looked between you and Spencer like you were her new favorite romance novel come to life. “This is adorable. I mean, we knew you were soft for our resident genius, but this?” She gestured at Spencer, who was still pressed against you, his head once again finding its way to your shoulder. “This is next-level domesticity.” 

You sighed, “I am never letting him drink around you guys again.” 

Spencer hummed sleepily against your shoulder. “M’not even that drunk.” 

Derek let out a loud laugh. “Oh, you so are.” 

Spencer attempted to lift his head in protest but gave up halfway and settled deeper into your side. “M’just happy,” he mumbled, and if your heart didn’t squeeze at that, you’d be lying. 

Emily set down her drink, eyes glinting with mischief. “So, what else does our drunk genius have to say about you?” 

You shot her a glare. “Emily.” 

Spencer, on the other hand, perked up slightly, as if the question had unlocked another memory. 

“Oh!” he said suddenly, lifting his head, a dreamy smile spreading across his face. “I also told Derek about how you always fall asleep on my chest when we watch movies, even though you swear you never fall asleep during movies.” 

Derek actually clapped at that one. “Man, you are so whipped.” 

You buried your face in your hands as Garcia gasped dramatically, reaching for Emily’s arm like she might faint. “They’re so disgustingly cute! .” 

Spencer, now clearly on a roll, turned his dopey, love-struck gaze back to you. “And I told them—” 

You groaned. “Spencer!” 

He grinned, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Love you,” he mumbled sleepily. 

You patted Spencer’s thigh three times—a silent I love you, too, acting as if you weren't melting completely on the inside. You weren’t about to give your friends any more teasing material. 

“We’re going home,” you announced, realizing how sleepy Spencer was getting. 

Derek groaned dramatically. “Oh, come on. We wanna hear more.” His grin was absolutely wicked. 

At that, Spencer lifted his head slightly, as if he was about to continue his drunken confessions. 

You shot him a look—a playful but very clear don’t even think about it kind of look. “Spence.” 

His lips parted like he was going to argue, but instead, he let out a soft hum and dropped his head back onto your shoulder, completely surrendering. 

Derek laughed. "Man, he's totally wrapped around your finger."

You ignored him, instead rubbing soothing circles into Spencer’s back. His eyes fluttered closed, and he was half-asleep, his weight pressing into you completely. 

“One word about this at work,” you warned, shifting your gaze between the three of them, “and I’m never talking to you guys again.” 

Emily smirked over the rim of her glass. “Oh, sure. No words at work. Can’t promise about the PowerPoint presentation Garcia is definitely going to make, though.” 

Garcia gasped, scandalized. “Emily, you know me so well.” 

You groaned. “I hate all of you.” Derek chuckled, waving you off. “Nah, you love us.” 

Spencer hummed sleepily. “Mhm. Love them.” 

You sighed, adjusting him slightly. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s get you home, Dr. Love-Confessions.” 

“Okay, come on,” you sighed, scooting Spencer out of the booth. He stood—well, wobbled—barely managing to keep himself upright. 

You steadied him with a hand on his arm as he instinctively laced his fingers through yours, clearly unwilling to let go. His drunken state had made him extra clingy, but you weren’t exactly complaining. 

Turning back to your friends, you gave them a pointed look. “I’ll see you all at work,” you said, voice laced with warning. “Where we’re only going to have professional conversations. Got it?” 

Emily smirked, raising her glass in mock agreement. “Oh, sure. Definitely professional.” 

Garcia let out a dramatic sigh. “No gossip whatsoever,” she said, not even trying to sound convincing. 

Derek just grinned, shaking his head. “Yeah, good luck with that.” 

Meanwhile, Spencer was barely paying attention to any of this. His eyes had glazed over, staring blankly into the distance as if lost in thought—or maybe just lost in general. 

You exhaled, already exhausted and thinking of calling in sick. 

“You,” you said, pointing a finger at Derek, “you get to pay for both our drinks.” 

Derek’s eyebrows shot up, realization dawning on him. “Whoa, hold up—” 

“Nope,” you cut him off immediately, shaking your head. “Not happening. You let him get like this, you pay for it.” 

Derek let out a laugh, looking at Spencer, who was still in his own little world. “Man, I didn’t force him to drink.” 

You shrugged. “Don’t care. Enjoy the bill.” You tugged Spencer’s hand, leading him toward the exit. 

“Bye,” he mumbled sleepily, barely loud enough to be heard. His steps were slow, and his body felt heavier against yours.

You pushed open the door with your free hand, the cool night air rushing past you. Spencer let out a quiet sigh at the change in temperature, his grip on your hand tightening just a little.

Without thinking, you started tracing slow, comforting circles with your thumb over his skin. 

Spencer hummed softly, leaning into you as you walked toward the car. “Feels nice,” he mumbled. 

You glanced at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah?” 

“Mhm,” he nodded lazily, his curls falling into his face again. “You always do that.” 

“I guess I do,” you smiled softly at your boyfriend, your heart warm as he squeezed your hand tighter. 

Spencer didn’t seem to notice how tightly he was holding onto you as you arrived next to your car. But when you tried to pull your hand out of his grasp, he made a small noise of protest, a soft whimper that almost made you stop in your tracks. 

“Spence,” you said gently, “I need to look for my keys.” 

His hand reluctantly loosened, but his gaze never left you. You opened your bag, rummaging through the contents, your eyes scanning for the keys. 

“You usually keep them in your front pocket,” Spencer mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You froze, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, right.” 

Without missing a beat, you reached into your front pocket, feeling the familiar jingle of your keys. “Thanks, Spence,” you murmured, more to yourself than him, as you unlocked the car. 

You quickly moved to open the passenger door, holding it wide. “Okay, come on. Sit down.” 

Spencer gave you a sleepy, lazy look but you gently tugged him towards the car, your touch soft yet insistent. His steps were slow, and as he started to get into the car, you reached up to guide his head down so he wouldn’t hit it on the top of the doorframe. 

“Head down,” you instructed, your voice a little more authoritative than usual, though the affection in your tone made it clear you were only looking out for him. 

Spencer let out a soft, obedient hum as he finally slumped into the passenger seat. His body collapsed back into the seat like a ragdoll, eyes heavy. 

“Good,” you said, closing the door behind him, watching as he settled into the seat, already half-asleep. 

As you slid into the driver's seat and closed the door behind you, you glanced over at Spencer. His head was resting against the seat, eyes shut, his expression soft and peaceful. You couldn’t help but feel a little bad for disturbing his rest. 

“Do you want to go to your apartment?” you asked quietly, glancing at him as you started the car. 

Spencer’s voice was barely above a whisper when he replied, “I wanna stay with you.” 

You paused, looking at him—his face relaxed, eyes still closed as if he were half in a dream. Your fingers itched to reach out, and you gently brushed a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. He hummed contentedly at the contact, leaning into your touch without even realizing it. 

You smiled softly, your heart melting at how utterly endearing he was. “Okay. We’ll go to my apartment, then.” 

You drove in silence for a few minutes, just listening to the soft hum of the engine and Spencer’s breathing. It wasn’t long before you arrived, and as you parked in your spot, you glanced over at him.

He hadn’t moved, still in the same sleepy position, his head leaning against the seat. 

“Spence,” you said gently, turning off the car. “We’re here.” 

All he did was hum in response, barely acknowledging you. 

You sighed softly, knowing this was going to take a little effort. Stepping out of the car, you closed your door quietly before making your way to the passenger side. 

When you opened the door, Spencer was practically asleep, his head resting against the seat, lips slightly parted. He looked so peaceful, you almost felt bad for waking him. 

“Spence,” you muttered, reaching out to touch his shoulder lightly. He didn’t budge. 

You frowned, leaning in slightly—careful not to hit your head on the car frame—as you gave his shoulder a firmer shake. Still nothing. 

“Spencer,” you said a little louder, this time with a touch of amusement in your voice. 

Finally, he stirred, cracking one eye open lazily. 

“Hi,” you greeted with a soft smile, watching as he blinked sluggishly. 

He let out a slow breath, rubbing his face with one hand. “We’re here?” he mumbled, voice thick with exhaustion. 

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “Come on, let’s get you inside.” 

Spencer groaned lightly, shifting in his seat as if even the thought of moving was too much effort. 

You reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “I’ll help you, but you have to stand up, Spence.” 

With a deep sigh, he finally nodded and let you pull him to his feet. He swayed slightly, and you immediately steadied him, wrapping an arm around his waist. 

“Whoa there, genius,” you murmured, adjusting your grip. “Let’s not face-plant in the parking lot.” 

Spencer huffed out a sleepy chuckle, leaning into you more than he probably realized. “You’re warm,” he muttered. 

You rolled your eyes, but your smile never faded. “Yeah, well, let’s get you inside where it’s actually warm, okay?” 

“Okay,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper as you guided him inside the building. He leaned into you slightly, his steps slow and heavy. 

As you waited in front of the elevator, the only sound was the distant hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional ding from the floors above. You tapped your foot lightly against the tile, watching the numbers slowly descend. 

Then, out of nowhere, Spencer spoke again, his voice soft but certain. 

“I like you a lot, you know that?” 

You turned to look at him, surprised by the sudden confession, but the sincerity in his hazel eyes made your heart melt. His gaze was a little unfocused, heavy with sleep and alcohol, but the emotion behind his words was crystal clear. 

“I know, Spence,” you said, smiling warmly as you reached up and brushed his curls away from his face again. It was something so simple, yet something you always found yourself doing.

He leaned into your touch instinctively, his body seeking out your warmth. 

The elevator doors finally slid open with a ding, and you gently tugged his hand to lead him inside. As soon as the doors shut, Spencer sighed and rested his head on your shoulder, his body completely relaxed against yours. 

“You smell nice,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your jacket. 

You let out a soft laugh, wrapping an arm around him for support. “Thanks, Spence. You smell like alcohol and bad decisions.” 

He chuckled sleepily, barely lifting his head. “Bad decisions? No, no. Liking you is the best decision.” 

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you just stared at him, warmth spreading through your chest. Even drunk and barely coherent, Spencer Reid somehow managed to be the sweetest person alive. 

The elevator doors opened, and you shook your head fondly, guiding him toward your apartment. “Come on, Casanova. Let’s get you to bed before you pass out in the hallway.” 

Spencer let out a hum of agreement, still clinging onto your hand like he never wanted to let go. 

You let go of him just long enough to unlock the door, pushing it open before guiding him inside. As soon as you shut it behind you, Spencer immediately reached for you again, clinging onto you like he had no intention of letting go. 

You sighed fondly, helping him shrug off his jacket while he clumsily toed off his shoes.

“Okay, Spencer, just a couple more steps,” you encouraged, wrapping an arm around his waist as you led him toward your bedroom. 

When you reached the bed, he sat down heavily, sighing as his body sunk into the mattress. His eyes scanned the room, though they were hazy with sleep. “I like your room,” he mumbled, as if just realizing where he was. 

You smiled softly, watching as he flopped back against the pillows, his head sinking into the plush fabric. 

“Me too,” you murmured, standing by the edge of the bed as you watched him. 

Spencer’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, but then, with a small, sleepy smile, he peeked up at you again. 

“You know… I think my favorite thing about your room is that you live in it,” he said, his voice thick with exhaustion but filled with sincerity. 

Your heart swelled at the unexpected sweetness of his words. 

You shook your head with a soft laugh, brushing his curls out of his face once more. “You’re such a sap when you’re drunk, Spence.” 

His smile grew just a little. “M’not drunk,” he mumbled, already halfway to sleep. “Just in love.” 

You felt warmth spread through your chest as you pulled the blanket over him, watching as he relaxed further into the bed. 

“Go to sleep, Spencer,” you whispered, but the smile on your lips never faded. 

[suiana]

yandere! childhood friend who still reminisces about your childhood together. yeah, the two of you may be grown now but he's been your day 1 and he just can't help but think about how you used to cling to him and adore him so much! he wishes you'd still do that but it is what it is. no matter how much he wishes otherwise.

yandere! childhood friend who did everything with you. yeah, that also includes practicing kisses. he's your first kiss, and he's never gonna let you forget that. you said you wanted to get better and who is he to refuse? he can't pass up such a prime opportunity! and it's not like he wants anyone else to take it. god no. that would be a tragedy.

"yeah, remember our kissing practices? hah, we were such kids back then!" he watches as you snicker, feeling a warm flush creep up his spine. god, of course he remembers. young and immature as you both were, you both learned together. that's all that really matters to him. "thanks to you, i can now makeout with my partners with ease. you're the best man." and has he told you how muchit infuriates him that you're using your experience to get with others? to please them with the mouth that once touched his? nah, he really can't stand for it. but he isn't allowed to say anything. he's just a childhood friend after all. not for long though.

yandere! childhood friend who wishes he would've accepted your offer to learn how to fuck as well. but no, he just had to be way too delusional back then and tell you to wait for the right one. he must've thought that you'd feel the same and confess then he'd court you slowly before getting to that stage... that never happened unfortunately. not yet at least. he'll make it happen.

yandere! childhood friend who's still a hopeless romantic at heart. a delusional one but a romantic nonetheless. he brings you out on "platonic dates" or whatever the fuck you like to call it, comfort you after your shitty excuse of a partner dumps you, and treats you like the deity that you are. you only deserve the best and he'll be there to provide. none of these losers can't treat you well. he can. he really hopes it'll help you see him as a potential boyfriend!

"i just," you blow your nose, tears streaming down your cheeks as your childhood friend rubs at your back tenderly. "don't know why he'd want to dumo me! we've been going strong for a year already! it's so out of the blue!" yeah, out of the blue huh... not really out of the blue for someone who's been actively theeatening that poor excuse of a man. that menas him, obviously. why he's been threatening him, you ask? because he's not treating you the way you should be treated, duh! sure you look happy but are you really? probably not, he's sure of it. "hey hey, don't worry... I'm here now, aren't i?" he always is, and he always will. you just need to understand that fact and you'll start seeing him in a different light too. don't worry, he has lots of patience. just... don't go sleeping with other people again.

yandere! childhood friend who may or may not be totally super duper mega in love with you. yeah, definitely not in love with you. that would be weird, right? come on, he's your childhood friend! sure you two might've kissed when you were kids and promised to marry one another but those were kiddy promises! that's all they are! he... totally doesn't believe you actually wanna marry him and be his forever and ever.

"so have you started thinking about your future?" he pauses at your question, rubbing at his empty ring finger. future, huh? funny how you ask that when you two are destined to be together at the end of it all. i mean, the two of your promised it as kids, didn't you? sure you're exploring now but at the end if the day, it's him that you come back to, don't you? even if just as a friend. but that's the present, not the future. "nah, not really. just wanna focus on the current moment, y'know?" bullshit, and he knows it. but he doesn't wanna scare you away. not yet at least. you're still out lookign for others which means you haven't come round to the idea of you two together. not to worry, he'll give you a little more time to see how good he is. how good things could be between you two if you just gave him the chance. "i mean, you're here with me." he chuckles, taking your hand in his before placing it on his cheek. you're warm. he likes your warmth, it's so soothing. "that's more than enough for me." half lidded eyes gaze at you, full of emotion and hidden longing before he hums softly. the teo fo you sit in the park in silence, enjoying each other's presence. in the moonlight, everything seems to slow and engulf the two of you in a quiet embrace. he only wishes you would just love him back already. "yeah, I'm glad to be by your side too, best friend." ...he really hates those words. don't worry, good things come to those who wait. and you will be his in due time. you've already had his heart, now all he needs is yours.

[tender-rosiey]

Everyone loves girl dad Suguru, but what if he has a stubborn headed son

block battle — geto suguru x f!reader

a/n: suguru, you shall always have a special place in mi heart + reminder that suguru IS a menace just a hidden one

you’re sat in the living room when you glance up from where you’re folding laundry on the couch, catching sight of your husband sitting cross-legged on the floor with your son.

suguru’s dark hair is tied up, though a few strands have fallen loose, framing his face as he gestures animatedly at the boy who is very clearly not listening as he builds his blocks.

“s/n, I’m just saying,” suguru begins, his tone edged with exasperation,

“if you’d actually let me help, we could finish this thing before your mom gives me the look for the mess.”

your son, a spitting image of suguru down to the determined furrow of his brows, doesn’t even glance up.

“it’s not a thing,” he corrects matter-of-factly, his little hands carefully balancing another block on top of an already teetering pile.

“it’s a fortress. and you’re doing it wrong.”

suguru stares at him, clearly trying to keep his composure.

he takes a deep breath before leaning back slightly. “oh, I’m doing it wrong? alright, young master, show me how it’s done since you’re clearly the expert.”

s/n straightens his back, fully embracing the challenge.

“like this,” he declares, adjusting the block with the seriousness of someone presenting architectural blueprints.

suguru pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering just loud enough for you to hear, “why does this feel like dealing with satoru during mission prep?”

he glances at you over his shoulder, and you can see the faintest twitch of a smile threatening to break through his otherwise tired expression.

“hear that, babe? I’ve been reduced to the role of a laborer. guess I’m not qualified for fortress-building anymore.”

you hum, folding the last shirt. “well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out, assistant. just don’t let him run you into the ground.”

your son’s head snaps up, his eyes widening with righteous indignation. “I’m not bossy! dad’s just slow!”

suguru’s eyebrows twitch at the accusation.

“slow?” he repeats, his tone almost comically even. “me? me?”

he glances back at you, pointing at himself with exaggerated disbelief.

“do you hear this? our son, who couldn’t even hold his own chopsticks until six months ago, is calling me slow.”

you bite your lip to stifle a laugh, but the glimmer in your eyes gives you away. “to be fair,” you say, folding another shirt, “you are taking an awfully long time to help with his…fortress.”

suguru shoots you a look, one part betrayed and two parts pleading, but before he can retort, s/n pipes up again, his voice brimming with the conviction only a five-year-old can muster.

“because he’s not doing it right!” his tiny hands flap in the air in frustration as he points at the blocks. “I said the blue one goes here, and he put it there!”

suguru drags a hand down his face, leaning back against the couch.

“you’re killing me, kid,” he mutters under his breath before plastering on a painfully forced smile. “alright, buddy. let’s start over. where exactly does the blue block go?”

s/n clambers over to the pile of blocks and holds one up like it’s the crown jewel. “here,” he says with utter certainty, placing it on the most precarious part of the structure.

suguru stares at the wobbly creation, his forced smile faltering. “that’s…that’s not gonna hold, s/n.”

“yes, it will!”

“no, it won’t.”

“yes, it will!”

suguru groans, rubbing his temples.

“it really does remind me of him,” he mutters under his breath, throwing you a look that’s equal parts exasperated and helpless.

“why couldn’t he have inherited your agreeable nature? or at least some common sense?”

you snort, unable to hold back your laughter now. “oh, I don’t know about that,” you tease, leaning back against the cushions.

“I seem to recall you, suguru, being pretty stubborn when we were dating. remember the time you insisted you could build that bookshelf without reading the instructions?”

“that’s different,” suguru huffs, crossing his arms like a sulking child. “that was about pride.”

“exactly.” you grin, motioning toward your son, who is now enthusiastically rebuilding the fortress with zero regard for suguru’s input. “and where do you think he gets his pride from, hm?”

suguru opens his mouth to argue but stops, his shoulders sagging in defeat. “this is my karma, isn’t it?”

“absolutely,” you say cheerfully, tossing a balled-up sock at him.

suguru catches it with ease, leaning his head back against the couch as your son continues to fuss over his masterpiece.

“you know, this would be so much easier if he actually listened for five seconds,” he grumbles. “talks a lot, doesn’t listen, and refuses to admit when he’s wrong.”

“I’m not wrong!” s/n shouts without looking up, clearly having inherited his father’s excellent hearing as well.

suguru groans dramatically, flopping sideways onto the floor. “see?” he waves a hand in your direction, presenting the evidence of his misery.

you’re laughing so hard now that tears prick the corners of your eyes. “oh, come on, suguru,” you say between breaths. “he’s five. you can’t let him break you already.”

“easy for you to say,” he grumbles, sitting up and giving you a half-hearted glare. “you’re not the one being micromanaged by someone who still needs help tying his shoes.”

“then stop fighting him on it,” you say with a shrug, walking over to ruffle s/n’s hair. “you know he’s not going to back down. he’s just as stubborn as you are.”

suguru sighs, brushing a hand through his loose strands of hair. “yeah, yeah. I get it. he’s my mini-me, complete with the attitude and confidence.”

he leans back, looking at your son, who is now proudly adjusting the blocks again. despite his grumbling, there’s a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

you kneel beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “at least he has your heart too,” you say quietly, watching as your son holds up the structure triumphantly.

suguru tilts his head, looking up at you with warm eyes. “guess I can’t be too mad about that,” he murmurs, his tone softening.

“papa, look!” your son calls out, running over to tug at suguru’s sleeve. “it’s done!”

suguru looks over at the fortress—or rather, a colorful mess of blocks barely holding together—and gives a small nod of approval. “looks sturdy, buddy. good job.”

s/n beams, his earlier frustration forgotten, and suguru finally manages a genuine smile.

“see?” you say, nudging him playfully. “you survived.”

“barely,” he replies, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. he presses a few kiss across your cheek before pausing and grimacing.

“let’s never make him spend time with satoru.”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will sleep on you

check out my buy me a coffee!

[hearts4mica]

Tell me what to do. To make it all feel better.

What if. The Batboys find out you’ve been messing up your recipes on purpose?

Part 1 here

———————————————————————————

It was another day of baking. This time you wanted to bake something for Alfred since he was the one who taught you how to bake in the first place.

You decided to bake a vanilla cake! Alfred’s favorite of course.

So you obviously went shopping and had to sneak out since Bruce didn’t want you going out by yourself since ‘Gotham is too dangerous’ maybe it is but you’re just going to the supermarket

You bought your ingredients and decided to start baking without your brothers finding out of course you can’t let them know that you can actually bake.

After a while you finished the cake. Its pretty surprising that no one came into the kitchen! Well its pretty early on the weekend so they’re probably still sleeping.

Alfred came into the kitchen and you gave him the cake. He thanked you and grabed a piece.

But

Just at that time Damian walked into the kitchen. Just perfect.

You both just stared at eachother. While you still had your dirty apron on.

“Good morning [name] i see you baked a cake for Alfred… it smells good?” Damian said

“What does that mean Damian! Does that mean you dont like my cooking?!” You said in a dramatic way trying to get him to leave the kitchen but it obviously backfired. “I didn’t bake thi-”

And at that moment Alfred decided to betray you!

“Young Miss [name] baked me a cake Master Damian would you like to try it“ Alfred said with a smug smile he wanted for you to stop poisoning your sibling with burnt cookies.

“[name] baked it? Didn’t you said you didn’t bake it dearest sister?” Damian walks up to the cake grabs a fork and takes a small bite.

“shit…”

“Are you sure [name] baked it?” (That little shit of course you did but he can’t know that!)

“N-” “Yes” Alfred cuts you off once again.

“Oh everyone would love to hear this” he says as he leaves the room.

———————————————————————————

At dinner everyone is sitting silently esting until Damian decides to break the silence.

“Did you know that our dearest sister here [name] actually knows how to bake? In fact she baked a cake for Alfred today and it tasted great” damian said with an evilish grin.

“SHE WHAT?!”

That little snitch.

“Baby bird why would you do that?!” Dick says

Its not going to be a short dinner.

———————————————————————————

At the end of the day Bruce lectured you about it and grounded you now you have to bake something for your “brothers��� atleast twice a week! And it can’t be burnt anymore what’s the fun in that?

———————————————————————————

How would they react?

Dick would be pretty upset about this i mean who wouldnt his ‘baby’ sister made her cookies bad on purpose! Were you mad at them for something? You and him are going to have a long boring fun talk

Jason would be pretty surprised that you actually were smart enough to think about this since he still sees you the way you were before his dead

Tim i feel like he already knew that since he spends so much time spying you- he actually didn’t mind the taste it kept his brain busy?

Damian was really upset his older sister gave him burnt cookies! I mean i get it with Drake, but with him your favorite brother?!

[moonlightwritingf1]

The Kiss Tax | LN4

💋 summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N doesn't like Lando's stubble.

💋 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

💋 word count ━━━━━━━ 2.2k

💋 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), fingering

Based on this request.

Lando’s lips brushed against Y/N’s, his hands cradling her face like she was something delicate, something precious. She leaned into him, her fingers sliding into his curls, tugging him closer, needing more. But then—the scrape of stubble rubbed raw against her skin. She winced, yanking her head back with a sharp inhale.

“What?” Lando froze mid-kiss, his hands still framing her face, his eyes searching hers.

“Your stupid stubble,” she hissed, rubbing the tender spot on her chin. “It’s like kissing a cheese grater. I told you I can’t stand it.”

His brows arched, a slow, defiant smirk spreading across his face. “Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” She shot him a glare, crossing her arms. “It’s horrible. I’m not kissing you again until you shave it off.”

Lando tilted his head, his smirk deepening. “Really? You’re going to deny yourself this”—he leaned in, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth, his voice dropping to that low, husky tone that made her stomach tighten—”because of a little stubble?”

She turned her face away, trying to ignore the way her pulse quickened. “Yes. Because it’s not a *little* stubble. It’s like barbed wire.”

“Barbed wire.” He laughed, leaning back on the couch, his arms spread wide. “Dramatic much?”

“I’m serious, Lando.” Her voice was firm, but the way her lips twitched betrayed her. “I’m not putting up with it. It’s uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable.” He repeated the word slowly, as if savoring it. His eyes narrowed playfully. “So, what you’re saying is, you’re a bit of a princess when it comes to this stuff.”

“A princess?” Her voice rose, her jaw dropping. “Excuse me? I’m not the one walking around with a face like a cactus.”

“Cactus.” He laughed again, shaking his head. “First barbed wire, now cactus. What’s next? Sandpaper? A rusty knife?”

“Don’t tempt me,” she shot back, but the corners of her mouth were curving now, despite herself.

Lando leaned forward again, his face inches from hers, his smirk turning devilish. “You know, I think you secretly like it. I think you just like giving me a hard time.”

“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes, pushing at his chest, but he didn’t budge. “I don’t secretly like anything about it. It’s scratchy, it’s irritating, and I’m not letting you near me again until you fix it.”

“Fix it, huh?” His voice dropped, a low rumble that sent a shiver racing down her spine. His hands slid to her waist, pulling her closer. “What if I fix it right now? What if I make it all better for you?”

She tried to hold onto her annoyance, but the look in his eyes—teasing, warm, and just a little bit dangerous—was making it impossible. “Fine,” she said, her voice softer now. “Go on, then. Fix it.”

He grinned, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of her nose before standing up. “Stay there,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Don’t move.”

“Where are you going?” she called after him, though she already knew the answer.

“To fix the cactus,” he threw over his shoulder, disappearing into the bathroom. The sound of water running and the faint buzz of his razor filled the quiet apartment.

Y/N leaned back on the couch, shaking her head, but the smile tugging at her lips was impossible to ignore. Lando always knew how to turn things around, how to make even their little quarrels feel like foreplay. And no matter how much she fought it, she loved him for it.

When he returned, his face clean-shaven and smooth, Lando’s gaze locked on hers with an intensity that made the air between them crackle. He tilted his head, his eyes glinting with that familiar mischief. "Better?" he asked, his voice a low purr, edging closer until his presence filled her space.

Her fingers reached up, tracing the sharp line of his jaw, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver up her arm. "Much," she admitted, her voice soft but laced with the slight teasing lilt he loved. The corners of her mouth curved, but before she could say more, his lips were on hers, hard and insistent, and the world narrowed to the feel of him.

Lando kissed her like he was memorizing her, mapping her lips with his tongue, his breath mingling with hers in a rhythm that was all theirs. His hands framed her face, and he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer when she thought it wasn’t possible. He loved kissing her—loved the way her lips softened under his, the way she gasped into his mouth, the way her fingers curled into his shoulders as though she couldn’t get enough of him. Each kiss felt like a revelation, something new yet familiar, like coming home after a storm.

For Y/N, kissing Lando was like diving into the ocean and forgetting how to surface. His lips were soft yet demanding, a contradiction that left her dizzy. Each time their lips met, it was like the first time—raw, electric, and achingly sweet. Fire sparked low in her belly as he nipped at her bottom lip, drawing a sound from her that he swallowed hungrily. She loved the weight of him, the pressure of his body pressing her into the couch, making her feel thoroughly claimed and utterly wanted.

Her breath hitched as one of his hands slid into her hair, tugging gently to expose her neck. The scrape of his tongue against her pulse point made her stomach clench. She slid her fingers into his curls, and he groaned when her nails dragged across his scalp. Kissing him felt like surrender, like defeat, but it wasn’t that. It was something more, something she hadn’t learned how to name yet.

Lando pulled back, barely an inch, and smirked at how breathless she was. His thumb brushed over her swollen lower lip, and he watched raptly as she exhaled sharply. "You’re beautiful like this," he said, his voice rough. He loved seeing her unravel for him, loved knowing he was the one who could make her forget everything but his touch.

"Flatterer," she teased, her voice raspy but still laced with that playful edge. Her cheeks flushed as she tried to stem the warmth radiating from her chest.

"Confident," he corrected with a low chuckle, leaning in to kiss her once more before nipping at her ear. "Always confident when it comes to you."

Before she could respond, Lando was on his knees in front of her, his hands sliding under her thighs to pull her closer to the edge of the couch. Her oversized t-shirt rode up slightly, revealing the curve of her waist, and she shivered as his fingers hooked into the lace of her underwear.

“Lando—” she started, her voice already breathless as he tugged the fabric down her legs, letting it fall to the floor. Her cheeks flushed, but his eyes—dark and hungry—held hers, and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe.

“Trust me,” he whispered, his voice low and gravelly, his lips brushing the inside of her thigh. The warmth of his breath sent a shiver racing through her, and when he leaned in closer, her legs instinctively parted, giving him the access he sought.

Lando’s gaze flicked up to hers, his lips curving into a smirk. “So perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with reverence. “God, I could spend hours here.” He dipped his head, his tongue dragging a slow, deliberate line up her slit, and she gasped, her hands flying to his hair.

He chuckled against her, the vibration sending a jolt straight to her core. “Tastes so fucking good,” he rasped, his tongue swirling around her clit with a rhythm that made her hips jerk. “You always react so beautifully for me.”

Her head fell back, a moan escaping her lips as his tongue worked its magic, lapping at her in long, slow strokes before flicking over her sensitive bud with precision. “Lando, oh my god,” she panted, her fingers tightening in his curls. “That feels—that’s so...”

“I know,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to tease her with his breath. “But don’t stop talking. Tell me how good it feels.”

She bit her lip, her hips lifting instinctively as he dipped his tongue inside her, the sensation sending sparks shooting through her. “Please, don’t stop,” she whimpered, her voice trembling. “It’s—it’s so good, Lando. I can’t...”

He hummed against her, the sound vibrating through her very core, and she gasped when he slipped a finger inside her, curling it just right. “You’re so wet,” he growled, his lips brushing her clit as he spoke. “Always so responsive for me. It drives me fucking crazy.”

His finger began to move, thrusting in and out in a steady rhythm as his tongue continued its relentless assault on her clit. The dual sensation was overwhelming, and she could feel herself hovering on the edge, only for him to slow down, his teasing smirk evident even without her looking at him.

“Not yet,” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. “I want to make you feel every second of this.”

She whimpered, her nails grazing his scalp. “Please, Lando, I need—”

“Need what?” he interrupted, his voice thick with mischief. “Tell me.”

She barely managed to form coherent words as he added a second finger, stretching her perfectly, his tongue circling her clit with maddening precision. “I need to come,” she choked out, her voice breaking. “Please, baby, let me—”

“Good girl,” he whispered, and that was all it took. His lips closed around her clit, sucking hard, and she came with a cry, her body shuddering violently as waves of pleasure crashed over her. Lando didn’t let up, working her through it until she was whimpering, her body limp and trembling.

When he finally pulled back, his chin glistening, he looked up at her with a smirk that made her heart skip a beat. “So,” he said, his voice rough with desire. “Did I clean my face completely?”

She laughed breathlessly, her fingers tracing his jawline. “Yes,” she replied, her voice soft and sated. “You did.”

Lando’s lips lingered on the inside of her thigh, his breath warm against her sensitive skin, igniting another spark despite her already trembling body. He crawled up her body, slow and deliberate, his movements smooth, like a predator savoring his prey. When his face hovered just above hers, their breath mingling, he smirked—that cocky, heart-stopping smirk that always had her knees buckling.

“Good,” he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction, before his lips crashed onto hers in a deep, possessive kiss. His tongue tangled with hers, claiming her mouth with the same intensity he’d claimed her body mere moments ago. She moaned softly into him, her hands sliding up to grip his shoulders, holding onto him as if he were the only anchor in the world.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing ragged, he gazed down at her with an intensity that made her heart pound. “Still mad about the stubble?” he teased, his thumb brushing her cheek.

She chuckled, the sound low and sated. “I think you’ve more than made up for it,” she murmured, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his back.

“Good,” he said again, his lips curving into a satisfied grin. He pressed another kiss to her lips, this one softer, slower, lingering long enough to make her sigh. Then he shifted, pulling her closer until their bodies were wrapped around each other like they were meant to be and somehow always ended up, a tangle of limbs warmth. And everything else melted away.

He reached for the throw blanket draped over the back of the couch, and gently wrapped it around them. Her head rested on his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling her into a contented daze. For a while, they simply lay there, the silence between them thick with unspoken promises and lingering desire. And then, softly, Y/N broke the quiet.

“You know,” she started, her voice playful but with a hint of vulnerability, “you’ve made it really hard for me to stay mad at you.”

Lando chuckled, the vibrations of his laughter rumbling through her. “Good,” he said again, his fingers idly tracing shapes on her arm. “That was the plan.”

She tilted her head to look up at him, her gaze searching as she asked, “But what about me? Aren’t I supposed to be the one who keeps you in check?”

His smirk returned full force, teasing and irresistible. “Oh, I think you keep me plenty in check,” he replied, leaning in to kiss her temple. “But maybe, just maybe, even Lando Norris isn’t as in control as he’d like to believe.”

She laughed lightly, punching him softly on the chest. “Careful,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “That admission might hurt your ego.”

“For you,” he replied instantly, his voice softening as he cupped her cheek with his free hand, “it’s worth the risk.”

Y/n’s breath caught, her smile softening as she gazed at him. “You’re such a romantic,” she murmured, something in the way she said it both light and serious—warning, acceptance, warmth all rolled into one.

He grinned, pressing another affectionate kiss to her hair. “Only for you,” he whispered. “Only ever for you.”

[jasontoddsotherhalf]

Hey guys, I gave it a try lol let me know what yall think!

Jason Todd isn't a cruel guy.

Not on purpose, anyways. He saw some shit as a kid, as any kid did growing up in Crime Alley. His parents were murdered when he was still very young and he'd been taken in by THE Batman. Regardless of what anyone says, beating criminals up every night of your tween years does affect one's physce. Getting beat with a crowbar and killed by Joker does worse.

But now Jason is back, and he's stronger, and he's smarter. Sure he's scarred up and violent, but he's finally his own soilder, his own dog. And Jason really does love helping people. Which is why along side running the biggest crime ring Gotham had seen in years, he also works for a Mental Health Helpline.

He didn't get many calls directed to him, but he did get one tonight as he sat in his shitty apartment in Gotham, tending to a wound on his leg a few days old. He answered the phone, putting it on speaker and laying it on the coffee table.

"Hello, Gotham Mental Health Hotline. How may I help you tonight?"

A deep voice comes from the other side of the phone, a voice that Jason had heard in his dreams for years, praising him, scolding him, reading him stories to help him get to bed, waking up from resting to go fight crime.

"I'm not at risk. I don't need help." Bruce Wayne says slowly.

Jason clears his throat, his eyes narrowing. Would Bruce know it was him. Would Bruce ever be able to recognize him at all?

"I understand." Jason answered. "Is there any way I can help?"

Bruce took a shakey breath. "I don't need...help. I just...I have some heavy regrets waying on me. Mistakes that I've carried with me, guilt that acts like a noose, tighter recently than it has been in years. My son...I messed up so badly with my son. I want to fulfill my promise to him. I want to make it all okay again for my boy."

Jason shivered. He's not talking about you, idiot. He tells himself. He doesn't care that you're dead. He never cared. He's talking about perfect Dick or clever Tim. Not better-off-dead Jason Fucking Todd.

Jason slowly went back to tending to the open wound, which had started bleeding from how hard he was unintentionally prodding at it. "Have you tried talking to him? I'm sure he'd understand." Jason said through gritted teeth. It wasn't him. Batman didn't need Jason, so Bruce certainly didn't either.

"I would tell him. If he ever showed up. God, I'd tell him anything and everything." Something screeched in the background on Bruce's end and Bruce swore softly. Jason pictured him suddenly speeding through Gotham streets, the Batmobile swerving dangerously, recklessly.

Jason didn't say anything, just waited for his father- for Bruce Wayne- to keep speaking. He continued, after a moment. "I only see him sometimes, when I dream. And he's in my arms again, young and bright and so full of life and potential." So he was talking about Dick. The first Robin who had grown up, fought with Batman, and left, never to return, not as he had been. Dick was Nightwing now, and led his own team, though he was still close with Bruce. Jason relaxed. This call was not about him. He could continue with his plans of vengeance without feeling guilty. I'm sure I'll laugh about this later.

"I'm sorry sir..." Jason trailed off awkwardly. Bruce spoke before Jason could say anything else.

"He's...he's dead." Jason froze. Everything went still. It seemed as though the cars outside all went skidding to a halt, the blood in Jason's veins went cold. The only sound was the old light above him flickering. Jason stuttered slightly as he quickly searched up both Nightwing and Robin on line, a dark part of him hoping one of them had died. But no, there were only two articles published within the last few hours and it was about a case Robin, Nightwing, and Batman had dismantled the previous night.

Jason swallowed. "I'm...so sorry, sir. Do you want to talk about him?" Jason wanted him to say no, needed Bruce to say no. For once he wanted Bruce to close off everything and everyone and retreat back to the dark corner of his mind where he told no one anything.

And there was a long silence between them, Jason was sure Bruce would hang up.

Batman would have. But Bruce didn't. "His name was Jason. And he was the most golden and beautiful boy on this planet. You would have never thought so from judt glancing at him once. His hair was flat and dark, And he was short and skinny and always had dirt on him somewhere. But it was in his eyes, and in his laugh. That's where his love was held. He cared so much. About everyone. He always wanted to help. He would always rush forward, even if it put him at risk. He didn't care about himself. He cared more about the wellbeing of others. He was so sweet and..." Bruce's voice cracked. "I just want my son back. My sweet boy." Jason didn't say anything. He felt his throat burn and his eyes blur. "I-i'm sorry sir. He sounds...amazing. I'm sure whatever it is you feel guilty over..." Jason took a deep breath. "I'm sure he forgives you." He lied. Partially lied. Jason didn't know anymore. One conversation where one participant didn't even know who the other was did not count as closure, and nothing was different. But it wasn't the same either. Bruce cared. All this time Jason had been looking for Batman to show the effect Jason's death had on him, when really it was Bruce he should have been looking at.

Bruce was quiet for a long long time. "I wish that was true, son. But I don't think so. Still, thank you for saying so. And thank you for listening. You're a good kid." Bruce didn't say anything else before hanging up. Jason sat in silence for a moment, frozen in time, feeling dizzy. Then he sprung up, his injured leg aching and dripping blood onto the floor, and he ran to the bathroom, falling in front of the toilet and throwing up anything he had eaten in the past 24 hours.

AU, where Jason returns to Gotham, but in between of his evil mastermind plans and managing the criminal empire, he starts working in this anonymous psychological hotline services.

And gets a call from Bruce-fucking-Wayne.

Well. It is not like Bruce announces that he is Bruce Wayne — it is anonymous, after all — but Jason knows his father's voice, alright?

'I don't need a physiological help,' his father tells him the minute he picks up the phone.

Jason... Snorts.

'Of course,' he nods, making his voice nicer. 'How can I help you?'

Bruce pauses, his breath hitching for a second; almost as if he recognized Jason's voice.

'My... my son thinks I need it, but I am fine,' Bruce insists. 'Still... I want to, well, fulfil a promise I gave... for once.'

Jason rolls his eyes, a familiar irritation flaring up in green flames before his eyes. He wonders who is this lucky son that gets to have such a diligent, responsible father - Dickhead? Tim? Damian?

'I see,' he breathes out, trying to follow a protocol of the calls. 'I am sure he will appreciate your loyalty. Will you tell him about it?'

'If he appears,' something screeches in the background, and if Jason closes his eyes, he can easily imagine Bruce leaning back on the armchair, in the Batcave. 'I... He only ever appears in my dreams, my boy.'

Jason freezes.

'Excuse me?'

'I... He is dead, my son.'

Had someone else died? Jason frowns, reaching for his phone, typing anxiously Nightwing and Robin in the search bar, trying to see if there is something serious happened; because he can't be talking about the second Robin, can he-

'I am sorry,' he blurts out, eyes drifting back to notes on the table, with some common phrases that can be used in this situation. 'I... Do you want to talk about, sir?'

Bruce is silent for a while. Jason thinks he is about to drop the call, but then, he sighs heavily on the line:

'His name was Jason. And he was the brightest boy.'

Jason mutes the microphone. He thinks he is going to vomit.

[shepherds-of-haven]

wish it was cool and acceptable to write fanfiction of your own work, especially before the original work is actually done 😂

[ivyues]

Friendly Fire: Stray Kids' reactions to accidently causing their S/O a minor injury

Bang Chan

Chris gasped, immediately reaching out to steady you. "Oh my god—babe! Are you okay?" His eyes were wide with panic as he carefully looked you over. When he noticed you rubbing your arm, his expression twisted with guilt.

"I wasn’t looking—I just—ugh, I’m so stupid," he groaned, ruffling his hair in frustration. Then his gaze dropped to your arm, and he let out a dramatic sigh. "You’re gonna bruise, aren’t you? I literally just hurt my own girlfriend – what kind of boyfriend does that?"

You tried to reassure him, chuckling softly. "Chris, it’s fine. It was an accident."

But Chris, still looking at your arm, was clearly having trouble letting it go. He stepped closer, lowering his gaze with a mixture of guilt and curiosity. "No, seriously. Let me see it," he said softly, his voice suddenly tinged with concern. He gently cupped your arm and lifted it so he could inspect the spot where the small bruise was starting to form. "It looks... pretty bad, huh?"

You gave him a small smile. "It’s not that bad, really."

Over the next few days, Chris becomes obsessed with checking on the bruise. Every time you roll up your sleeves or he catches sight of it, his face immediately drops. His expression fades into one of pure regret, his brows furrowing as if he just got reminded of the worst thing he’s ever done.

"Ah... it’s still there," he mumbles, almost to himself, his lips pressing into a guilty pout.

"It’s fine, Chris," you reassure him, but he just shakes his head dramatically.

"Fine? Fine?! Look at it!" He gently takes your arm. "It’s so dark—I knew it was going to bruise badly. I swear, I have to be more careful with you…"

He sighs deeply, rubbing his face with his hands before looking at you with the saddest puppy eyes making sure he's the gentlest with you from then on.

Lee Know

You were reaching for a spoon just as Lee Know went to shut the drawer. Before either of you could react, the drawer shut on your fingers. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as you quickly pulled your hand away, wincing at the sting.

Lee Know’s eyes widened in immediate shock. "Yah!" His voice was sharp, but his hands were quick, grabbing your wrist to inspect the damage. "Why would you put your hand in when I was closing it?" His brows furrowed in a mix of frustration and concern.

You pouted slightly. "I didn’t think you’d close it that fast…"

He let out a sigh, shaking his head before pulling you towards a chair. "Sit. Now." His tone was firm. He quickly went to get an ice pack, muttering to himself about how reckless you were.

Returning, he carefully pressed the cold pack against your fingers. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, softer now. "Does it hurt a lot?" he asked, his voice quieter.

You shook your head. "Not too bad."

He clicked his tongue, still frowning. "Be careful next time."

After a few minutes, you tried to get up to help him again, but before you could even take a step, Lee Know placed his hands on your shoulders and firmly pushed you back down. "Nope. You’re staying there," he said, not even looking at you as he went back to what he was doing.

"But I can still—"

"No, you can’t," he cut you off. "Do I have to tape you to the chair?”

By the time he was finished, he walked over to where you were sitting and, instead of saying anything, leaned down and rested his head on your shoulder from behind.

A sigh escaped him as he relaxed against you. "You always do this," he murmured. "Getting hurt, then making me feel bad, and then acting like nothing happened."

Changbin

Changbin had always been careful with you. Always mindful of his strength, always gentle with his touches. But today, he was distracted.

You had just walked into the room, planning to give him a back hug. He was standing by the counter, completely focused on his phone.

Just as you stepped closer, he suddenly turned, his elbow swinging and catching you on the forehead.

The impact sent a sting through your skin, and your hand flying up to the spot instinctively.

His eyes widened in horror. 

“Oh my God.” His voice was already laced with panic. “No, no, no—baby, I didn’t see you!”

You winced but tried to shake it off, offering a small smile. “Ouch. I didn’t know elbows were part of your workout routine.”

But he didn’t laugh. His lips pressed into a thin line as if he was trying to hold back how upset he was.

He gently reached up, fingers brushing over the spot he had hit. His touch was featherlight, hesitant, but you still winced slightly at the pressure. The way his jaw clenched told you he noticed.

“Does it hurt?” His voice was barely above a whisper, guilt thick.

“It’s okay, Binnie,” you reassured, placing your hand over his. “I shouldn’t have sneaked up on you.”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. Then quickly opened the freezer to grab a small ice pack, wrapping it in a paper towel before hurrying back to you.

“Here, hold this.” He gently placed the cool pack against your forehead himself, making sure it wasn’t too cold against your skin. “It might not swell, but just in case.”

Your heart melted at the way he was looking at you – soft, regretful, completely focused on taking care of you. He sighed, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your temple – careful, apologetic. “I still feel awful.”

“Don’t, but… can I still get the hug I originally wanted?”

Hyunjin

Hyunjin playfully snatched the paper from your hands, grinning as he held it just out of your reach. “Hey, let me see that—”

But before he could finish his sentence, the edge of the paper scraped against your finger.

You flinched, a sharp sting shooting through your skin. “Ow—”

Hyunjin’s smile vanished in an instant. His eyes widened in pure horror as he dropped the paper like it was on fire. “Oh my god—Y/N! Are you okay? Did I just—? No way, tell me I didn’t—”

You looked down at the tiny red line forming on your fingertip, letting out a small sigh. “It’s just a paper cut, Hyunjin. I’ll be fine.”

But he wasn’t convinced. He gently took your hand in his, holding it like it was the most fragile thing in the world. “Oh my god, I hurt you,” he mumbled, guilt heavy in his voice. “I didn’t mean to—”

Without another word, he scrambled to grab a small first aid kit from the nearby table. “Give me your hand,” he muttered under his breath as he carefully placed it over your finger.

Once it was securely in place, he brought your hand to his lips and pressed a soft, lingering kiss over the bandaid. His warm eyes met yours, filled with so much sincerity it made your heart flutter. “That should help it heal faster,” he said softly.

You bit back a smile, warmth spreading through your chest. Unable to resist his adorableness, you playfully shook your head.

Han

Han had only meant to play around, nudging you lightly with his shoulder as you walked side by side. But he didn’t realize you weren’t standing all that stable – and before either of you could react, you stumbled, losing your balance completely and landing on the ground with a small thud.

The moment you hit the floor, Han’s playful smile vanishes. His eyes go wide with panic, and he’s crouching beside you in an instant.

“Oh my god—wait, are you okay?!” His hands hover uncertainly, torn between helping you up and checking for injuries. Then, when he sees the glint of unshed tears in your eyes, his heart clenches painfully.

“I—wait—did I actually hurt you?” His voice is laced with pure guilt. “I swear, I didn’t mean—ugh, I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head quickly, blinking away the tears before they can fall. “No, no, it’s fine. It didn’t even hurt that bad.” You sniffle, willing yourself to push past the sting of the fall. But Han clearly doesn’t buy it.

“You’re crying,” he points out, lips pressing into a worried pout. “Where does it hurt? Do you need ice? A bandage? I can carry you—should I carry you?” His panic is growing by the second, now making tears of his own form on the waterline of his eyes.

His dramatics finally crack a smile out of you, and you nudge his arm lightly. “Hey, I said I’m fine.”

He blinks, then exhales in visible relief. “Oh, thank god. You scared me, you know?”

He lets out a small whine before nuzzling his head against your shoulder, his way of silently apologizing. You huff a soft laugh and ruffle his hair affectionately. “Next time, tell me if you’re about to fall over so I can not be an idiot,” he mumbles, his voice slightly muffled against your sleeve.

Felix

Felix had been playfully pulling you along, his warm hand wrapped tightly around yours as he led you through the bustling streets. His deep, honey-like laughter rang in your ears as he turned back to flash you one of his signature sunshine smiles.

"Come on, love! Keep up!" he teased, eyes twinkling with mischief.

But in his excitement, Felix didn’t realize how fast he was going. As he quickly tugged you around a sharp corner, you barely had time to register what was happening before your shoulder slammed into the hard wall.

The impact made you stumble, a small yelp escaping your lips. Immediately, Felix froze, his grip on your hand tightening before he spun around to face you, panic overtaking his features.

“Baby!” His hands were on you in an instant, gently cupping your face, eyes darting frantically from your expression to the point of impact. “Are you okay? I swear I didn’t mean to—ahh, why am I so stupid?” He groaned, eyebrows knitting together as he carefully examined you.

You laughed lightly, rubbing your sore shoulder. “I’m fine, Lix. It’s just a little bump.”

But he wasn’t having any of it. “Nope. Not fine. I just threw my love against a wall.” He pouted, his lips forming a deep frown, the corners of his mouth trembling slightly.

You squeezed his hand reassuringly, offering him a warm smile. “Lix, really, it’s okay. I know you’d never hurt me on purpose.” You gave his fingers a playful squeeze. “Just maybe don’t go full-speed next time?”

Felix sighed, but then his expression softened. This time, his grip was gentler – fingers lacing through yours with careful intently. “Let me make it up to you,” he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles before guiding you forward at a slower, more considerate pace.

Seungmin

Seungmin’s laughter faded the second the coffee cup tipped, the warm liquid splashing onto your hand. 

“Ah—!” You flinched, quickly pulling your hand away as a sharp warmth spread across your skin. It wasn’t excruciating, but it still stung.

His eyes widened in horror as you hissed in pain, quickly pulling away to rush to the sink.

“Oh my God—Y/N—” His voice was sharper than usual, edged with panic as he followed you. He hovered beside you while you let the cold water run over the burn, his hands balled into fists like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, even though the skin was still an angry shade of red. You could already see the guilt settling into his features, his jaw tightening.

“No, you’re not,” he muttered, then exhaled sharply. “Come on, let’s go get it checked.”

You turned off the faucet and shook your head. “Seungmin, it’s just a little red. It’s not even blistering. You’re just—.”

He didn’t let you finish, gently nudging your shoulder. “Still. What if it gets worse later? What if it’s worse than it looks?” His brows furrowed, frustration laced in his concern. “Just—please, let me take you.”

You sighed, but the way he looked at you – so genuinely upset – made it impossible to refuse.

“Fine.”

Seungmin didn’t waste another second, grabbing his keys and leading you out, his hand hovering near yours like he wanted to hold it but was too afraid of hurting you again.

I.N

I.N and you were playfully messing around, laughing as you teased each other. He reached out to lightly nudge you, but he miscalculated his strength. You stumbled forward, losing your balance and falling onto the pavement with a surprised yelp.

The moment your knee made contact with the rough ground, a small sting made you wince, though thankfully, it was just a light scrape – no blood, just a little redness.

I.N's eyes widened in sheer panic. “Oh my god—are you okay?!” He practically flung himself down beside you, hovering over you with frantic hands, unsure whether to help you up or check your knee first. “I— I didn’t mean to— I swear! Oh no, are you hurt?” His words tumbled out quickly.

He spotted the small scrape on your knee, and his face fell, guilt washing over him instantly. “Ahhh, I’m so sorry! I was just playing, I didn’t think—” He stopped himself, shaking his head before carefully reaching for your hand. “Here, let me help you up.”

Even as you reassured him that it was just a small scrape, he wouldn’t let it go. He dusted you off gently, his brows furrowed in worry.

Then, suddenly, he perked up as if struck with an idea. “Wait! I’ll give you a piggyback ride,” he announced, turning around and crouching slightly.

You couldn’t help but giggle at how serious he was about it. With a small sigh, you climbed onto his back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He hoisted you up effortlessly, adjusting his grip under your thighs as he began walking.

masterlist

[solxamber]

You Try to Sleep on the Couch after an Argument with: Vice-Housewardens + Ruggie

Part 1 with Housewardens

Trey Clover

The argument wasn’t a loud one—no shouting, no slamming doors—just tense words exchanged with too much weight behind them. Trey’s voice had been steady, but his usual patience was stretched thin.

You, equally frustrated, had decided that the best course of action was to remove yourself before either of you said something you’d regret.

So, with a sigh, you grabbed a blanket and made your way to the couch, settling in with your back turned toward the bedroom.

Trey let out a heavy exhale behind you, but he didn’t stop you.

You shifted, adjusting the blanket, willing yourself to fall asleep. It didn’t work. The room was too quiet, too heavy with the remnants of unspoken words. You half-expected Trey to leave you there and go to bed, but then—soft footsteps. A rustle of fabric.

Kneeling beside the couch, Trey placed a hand on the cushion near your arm. His voice was quiet, steady in a way that made something in your chest ache.

“Come back to bed.”

You closed your eyes. “Not yet.”

A pause. Then, a soft sigh. Trey stood. For a moment, you thought he was giving up, finally going to bed without you. The thought left an unexpected hollowness in your chest.

But then, after a few minutes, he returned. You smelled the milk before you saw it—the faint scent of vanilla and honey curling through the air. When you cracked an eye open, there he was, sitting on the floor near the couch, a mug in his hands. He held it out to you.

“Here,” he said. “I know you have trouble sleeping when you’re upset.”

You blinked at him, heart squeezing against your ribs. “Trey…”

He didn’t push, didn’t insist. He just waited, his eyes gentle, patient in the way only he could be.

And just like that, your frustration melted. You took the mug, letting the warmth seep into your fingers. Trey didn’t move, just watched you with that quiet steadiness. Then, softly, he asked again,

“Come back to bed?”

This time, you didn’t hesitate.

You set the mug aside and sat up, only for Trey to immediately wrap his arms around you. His hold was firm, grounding. He buried his face in your shoulder and murmured, “I’m sorry.”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, holding him just as tightly. “I’m sorry too.”

Neither of you moved for a long moment, staying there in the quiet. Eventually, Trey pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your forehead.

“C’mon,” he said, voice low, warm. “Let’s go to sleep.”

And this time, when he led you back to bed, you followed without hesitation.

Ruggie Bucchi

The couch wasn’t comfortable. You knew it, and Ruggie knew it. But right now, your stubbornness outweighed your need for a good night’s sleep. You yanked the blanket over yourself, muttering under your breath as you tried to arrange the cushions into something remotely acceptable.

Across the room, Ruggie watched you with wide, calculating eyes. He hadn’t said anything since you stormed off, but you could feel him thinking. And then—

“You remember when you ate my last donut?” he started, voice small.

You froze, narrowing your eyes. “…What?”

“My last donut. You ate it, and you said—” He changed his voice in a mocking impression of you. “‘I owe you one, Ruggie, I swear. Anything you want.’”

You groaned, burying your face in the pillow. “Oh my —”

“But it’s fine,” he continued, so dramatically forlorn you almost threw the pillow at him. “I guess I’ll just be all alone in that big, cold bed. No warmth. No love. Just me. Shivering.”

You lifted your head, ready to tell him off, but then—oh, no.

He hit you with the look.

Ears drooping. Tail flicking. Wide, guilt-inducing eyes that shimmered just enough to make your resolve crack.

You exhaled sharply, dropping your head back down. “You’re the worst.”

He didn’t respond. Just fidgeted. Shuffled his feet like he was actually nervous you’d say no.

And that? That got you.

With a groan of defeat, you sighed and opened your arms. That was all he needed. Ruggie practically launched himself onto the couch, slotting himself beside you in a space absolutely not designed for two people. His weight pressed against you, his tail flicking lazily as he tucked his head under your chin.

“…Knew you couldn’t resist me,” he mumbled, voice muffled by your shirt.

“Shut up.”

His arms tightened around you. A quiet beat passed, then—

“Sorry.”

Your hand found its way into his hair, carding through the strands. “Yeah,” you murmured. “Me too.”

Ruggie hummed, content. Within minutes, his breathing evened out, and despite the ridiculousness of it all, sleep found you too.

Jade Leech

The couch was lumpy. Or maybe you were just too angry to get comfortable. Either way, you buried your face into the pillow, inhaling deeply through your nose to keep yourself from snapping again. You just needed some space. Needed to not be in the same room as Jade and his infuriating, calmly amused expression.

“I can’t be around you right now,” you had told him before marching off, voice tight with frustration. And for once, he didn’t push. Didn’t smirk or throw another veiled comment your way. He simply inclined his head, watching as you all but collapsed onto the couch.

Now, wrapped in a too-thin blanket, you willed yourself to sleep. You were almost there—drifting, fading—when fingers ghosted over your hair.

Your breath caught, but you kept still.

Soft strokes. Careful, reverent, as if he thought you might break. It was so unlike him, so gentle, that you almost cracked your eyes open to confirm it was really happening. Then—

“…I’m so sorry.”

The whisper was barely there. But it wasn’t the words that made your heart lurch—it was the way his voice shook.

Jade Leech, ever unflappable, sounded unsteady.

He pulled back, and you knew he was about to leave. That should have been fine. You should have let him go.

But your bleeding heart had other plans.

Your hand shot out, grabbing his wrist before he could slip away.

He barely had time to react before you yanked him back—maybe a little too hard, because the next thing you knew, he was crashing onto the couch with you. A rare, wide-eyed look of surprise flashed across his face, so fleeting you almost thought you imagined it.

And then you pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Jade froze.

“I’m sorry too,” you murmured. “We can talk in the morning.”

For a long moment, he just looked at you, something unreadable in his expression. Then, slow and deliberate, he dipped down and pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek.

“…Very well,” he whispered.

His weight settled beside you, and this time, when you drifted off, it was to the sound of his steady breathing, warm and close beside you.

The couch standoff had been going on for way too long.

“I’m sleeping here,” you declared, arms crossed as you planted yourself firmly onto the cushions.

“No, you’re not,” Jamil shot back, equally stubborn. “I am.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I’m not taking the bed while you sleep out here.”

“And I’m not letting you sleep out here while I take the bed.” His arms were crossed now too, mirroring your posture, his sharp gaze unwavering.

For a moment, the tension held. Then, something about the sheer ridiculousness of it all hit you—both of you too annoyed to back down but too caring to let the other suffer the discomfort of the couch.

A laugh bubbled up in your chest before you could stop it. You covered your mouth, but the moment you let out even the smallest chuckle, Jamil’s eyes flickered with reluctant amusement. He exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head.

“This is stupid,” you admitted between giggles.

He sighed, running a hand down his face. “Yeah. It is.”

You grinned. “Bed?”

Jamil didn’t hesitate. “Bed.”

The moment you both settled under the blankets, the last traces of tension melted away. His arms instinctively curled around you, pulling you close, and you let yourself relax into his warmth.

“Sorry,” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his shoulder.

His grip tightened, lips brushing against your hair. “Me too.”

Neither of you said anything else. You didn’t need to. The steady rhythm of his breathing and the way he held you just a little closer said enough.

Rook arguing with you was already unexpected. That he let you march off to the couch without a poetic declaration or dramatic plea? Unheard of.

You cocooned yourself in the blanket, stubbornly facing the back of the couch. The silence felt unnatural—too quiet for someone like Rook. A part of you expected him to suddenly recite a Shakespearean sonnet about lovers quarreling.

Instead, something even more ridiculous happened.

You shifted slightly, just enough to glance toward the floor—and there he was.

Laying down right beside the couch on a thin blanket, arms crossed behind his head as though he had chosen the most luxurious sleeping arrangement in the world. His golden hair fanned out on the hardwood floor, and despite the clear insanity of the situation, he looked perfectly content.

You stared. Blinked. “Rook.”

“Oui, mon amour?”

“You’re on the floor.”

“Indeed.”

“You’re going to get sick.”

“Then I shall suffer beautifully, just as you do now, exiled from the comfort of our bed.” His eyes twinkled, completely unrepentant. “If my beloved must endure the cruel fate of sleeping alone, then I shall share in their hardship.”

You pressed your fingers to your temples. “Rook, go to bed.”

“I am in bed.”

“No, you’re on the floor, being dramatic.”

“Dramatic? Ah, ma chérie, I am simply a devoted man.”

You groaned, throwing your arm over your face, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you. It was impossible to stay mad when he was like this. Ridiculous. Completely, helplessly devoted.

Sighing, you reached out and flicked his forehead. He gasped theatrically, touching the spot as though you had struck him with Cupid’s arrow. Before he could say something absurd, you leaned down and kissed the spot gently.

“Come to bed, you idiot.”

His eyes widened slightly before his lips stretched into a dazzling smile. Without hesitation, he stood—and then immediately scooped you into his arms.

“Rook—?!?”

“Ah, mon amour, such sweet mercy! Allow me to carry you away from this exile!” He spun dramatically, pressing an exaggerated kiss to your forehead before striding toward the bedroom.

You should have expected nothing less.

You sighed against his shoulder, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you adore me.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

Lilia Vanrouge

You had firmly decided that you weren’t going to sleep in the same bed as Lilia tonight.

You needed space. You needed time to cool off. You needed—

Blink.

One second, you were wrapped in your blanket on the couch. The next? You were in bed.

You shot up, heart pounding. Lilia stood at the bedside, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Lilia.” Your voice was dangerously even.

“Yes, my dear?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Did you teleport me?”

A smug smile. “Would you rather I carried you?”

Oh, you were about to start another argument—

But then you noticed something. In his hands: a pillow and his own blanket.

You frowned. “What are you doing?”

Lilia hummed, casual as anything. “If my beloved insists on sleeping elsewhere, then I shall take the couch in their place. I have endured far worse in my lifetime—” his eyes twinkled mischievously “—but I’d hate for you to wake up with an aching back.”

You groaned, flopping back onto the mattress. “That’s so unfair.”

“To be this thoughtful and charming? I know.”

You shot him a look, but he simply smiled. You hated how sweet he could be even when you were still irritated.

With an exasperated sigh, you sat up and grabbed his wrist, tugging him toward you. He followed easily, his blanket forgotten as he slipped into bed. Without hesitation, he wrapped himself around you, chin resting atop your head.

His voice softened. “I’m sorry, dear.”

You exhaled, tension leaving your body as you relaxed into his hold. “…I’m sorry too.”

His lips brushed against your temple, and with that, the night’s quarrel was put to rest.

Masterlist

[poetic-vulgarity]

ʍoN ǝW ɹɐǝH II - Karina x Reader

Word Count: ~ 5K

Prompt: Ever since they were trainees, Y/N knew just what buttons to push to frustrate Jimin.

Maybe she took things a bit too far when she decided to cheat on her.

Tags: Angst, Cheating, Ghosting

Part I, Part 2

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

"I already told you I want the schedule changed!"

Jimin rolled her eyes at Y/N's irresponsible, petty, selfish behavior. "And I already told you, your schedule isn't being changed. Suck it up and deal with it!"

Y/N felt her words get stuck in her throat for a little while. You know? That feeling of injustice that just takes over you?

"This is ridiculous! I'm not flying 14 hours to Chicago for a four-minute shoot. Even you have to be dense to not see the problem!"

It was two o'clock in the morning, and they had a packed schedule the next day. Jimin could be in bed, like the rest of the members. Yet, there she was, in the middle of the living room, listening to Y/N.

"You're acting like an idiot," Jimin said, crossing her arms over her chest. Her glare was icy. Then again, she barely looked at Y/N without it anymore. "You signed a contract. Just follow it and keep your mouth shut."

"I'm acting like an idiot?" Y/N hissed, hands balled into fists at her sides. She felt like she was choking with rage.

The cold, unforgiving look in Jimin's eyes took her off guard even more—the way the older girl was glaring at her, like she was nothing more than a little nuisance.

She didn’t think, or even realize she was doing it, but she took a step forward until she was right in front of Jimin, staring her down.

"Had this been Minjeong, Aeri, or Ning, you would've fought to have the schedule changed."

"Well, it's not, is it?" 

Y/N swallowed hard. She didn’t know why those words hurt more.

"I'm your member as well," Y/N gritted her teeth, fists so tight her nails dug into the rough skin of her palm. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "Fuck our relationship—you could at least treat me like your member. Do your job as a leader."

"I'll be a leader when you start being a member," Jimin scowled. "Because I'm done with your attitude. You're selfish, and all you do is create problems for the group. When have you actually been useful for us? Or do you serve only to create those stupid headlines when you decide to be a dumbass now and then?"

That made Y/N flinch. Jimin sounded disgusted.

"Fuck you, Jimin." She spat out, grabbing her jacket and shoes as she made her way to the front door of the dorm.

Jimin wanted to follow her.

She wanted to scream at Y/N too. Tell her how much of an idiot she was.

But no. Jimin was the older one between them. She was the leader of the group. It was her job to be the level-headed one between the two of them.

Her hands shook with pent-up rage. But she didn't say anything. She didn't follow Y/N to apologize.

Jimin stood alone in the middle of their dorm, feeling more empty than she ever had.

In the end, it was just another fight.

Another one of their usual fights.

And everything went back to how it used to be.

They went to Chicago. Y/N was there for a few hours before catching a plane to Italy for another event, then she returned to South Korea.

SM Town was close, and the girls needed to practice.

The fact that Y/N was exhausted, jet-lagged, and a little sick from the photoshoots outside in the winter changed nothing.

"Hello, guys! How are you?"

They waved at the camera, filming the scenes for a backstage vlog that would be posted on their channel.

"Today, we are here to practice for our upcoming performance at SM Town. As always, we are very excited!"

It was Giselle's turn to speak, so Jimin took a step back, arms wrapped around Minjeong's waist as she rested her head on the smaller girl's shoulder from behind.

Y/N could practically see the comments coming their way.

'Winrina is perfect'

'I want someone who looks at me the way Karina looks at Winter'

'They should just kiss already'

It was inevitable to find them in every single video where the two were a bit more touchy.

Y/N felt like a fool.

Jimin and her weren't together anymore. They broke up months ago, and yet…

When Jimin looked at Minjeong, Y/N could only see the love and adoration in her eyes.

She felt sick to her stomach.

She hung around in the background while the girls filmed the video, perking up with a comment or two just to make it seem like she was really there.

Other than that, she didn’t really speak.

She was too exhausted. Her body felt heavy. And it was starting to get difficult to keep a smile on her face. Her throat felt sore. Her eyes felt droopy.

She wondered if Jimin could feel her staring at her and Minjeong from behind Aeri. It was hard not to, when the older girl kept nuzzling her face on Minjeong's neck, making the singer giggle.

It wasn't something that was totally surprising, though. Not when it had happened so many times before.

It was during interviews, shows, recording sessions. It was in the studio, in the dance practice room, in the streets, at home.

With Minjeong, Aeri, and Ning. But mostly with Minjeong.

Again, not surprising. But it felt rather lonely for Y/N.

The group had always been so close. She had once considered Minjeong her soulmate, Giselle her older sister, Ning her little one.

Now they only looked at her when the cameras were on.

She understood them, in some way. In the other way, she was constantly angry at them.

No one had given her a chance to explain herself when the entire cheating incident occurred. She knew it looked bad, but they had been teammates for years. Minjeong had been her best friend since before they even met Jimin... and they couldn't even hear her out?

So, yeah, she felt petty enough to be mad at all of them for a while. It was a flame that still burned in her chest, but more softly now. She was getting tired.

"Y/N, what about you, how are you feeling about the dance routine?" The cameraman suddenly turned to her.

Y/N took a sharp breath in, her eyes widening slightly at the sudden question.

She looked towards the camera and sent it a smile.

"I'm excited," Y/N said, her voice coming out a little croaky. "I'm sure we're going to give the best performance we can. We've been practicing really hard for it. I'm very proud of all the members."

And she meant it.

They were like perfect machines on stage, able to work together and put on a good performance. It was almost as if they could tell what the other members wanted.

It had been what made Aespa such a hit in the first place.

But you can't be hits without a lot of work. And a lot of work happened to be the biggest problem in Y/N's life.

Only one day before SMTown, the girls were invited to a radio show, and management only refused offers when they literally couldn't find a single vacant spot in Aespa's schedule.

So, there they were.

"What is Winter's favorite color?"

Jimin was quick to jump on her seat, "Ivory!"

A small ding echoed around the radio studio, and a big smile took over the leader's face as she celebrated.

"Very well! We are at 6 points for Y/N, 4 points for Karina, Winter, and Giselle, and 3 points for Ning. This last question will either decide the 2nd place of the game or equalize Ning to the second place," the radio show announced as loud music played in the background.

"And the last question is... what is Y/N's favourite ice cream flavor?"

Jimin's hand flew to the button, along with Winter's, Ning's, and Giselle's.

The answer was obvious for them. They had spent countless hours making fun of Y/N for it.

"Cinnamon!" Jimin was the first to respond.

"Yeah, she likes cinnamon ice cream," Winter grimaced. "It's disgusting."

"Don't know how she eats it."

"That is correct!" The announcer turned his card around to reveal the answer, and a small smile appeared on Y/N's face.

"Jimin wins second place!"

Yeah, Y/N didn't want to let Jimin win. "Actually, I'm allergic to cinnamon."

Everyone froze for a few seconds. Karina, in particular, was quick to frown, head snapping to Y/N. She knew all of Y/N's allergies. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"You're not."

Y/N chuckled, looking around the room as she noticed how heavy the atmosphere was getting. "I am," she let out quietly. "It's quite recent."

Jimin was confused, to say the least. Y/N loved cinnamon. She liked it in sweets, ice creams, perfumes. Hell, Jimin switched her perfume for a cinnamon one when she found out Y/N liked it, years ago. She still used it to this day.

"Since when?"

"A few months ago." Y/N sent her a knowing look before turning to the host. "I say no one gets the point since they got it wrong."

Jimin refused to believe what she was hearing. 

Was Y/N lying?

She had almost missed these little spats between them.

Almost.

"No, no! How am I supposed to know your allergies? I deserve the point!" Jimin argued in the most polite way possible, but Y/N could see the competitive fire behind her eyes.

"As the leader..." Y/N was definitely going there. "Isn't it... your obligation?"

Jimin opened her mouth to respond but Y/N was already talking again.

"You know what," she said, shrugging her shoulders. There was a small smile on her face. She was enjoying this—enjoying how irritated Jimin was getting, how competitive she was getting, how flustered she was. Enjoying how much it took for her to swallow the words that really wanted to come out. "Never mind, just give her the point. She needs it anyway."

And Jimin had to fight back the urge to glare at the other girl.

The host laughed loudly and pointed at Y/N, who had been mostly quiet during the entire show. "I like you!"

Y/N smiled back at him, and they soon moved on to another part of the radio show.

She didn't think much of the entire interaction, but apparently, Jimin did.

Y/N stepped away for a little while once the show had ended, needing to use the bathroom. The managers and members decided to make their way to the vans and told Y/N to join them when she was ready.

Which is why she wasn't expecting to come out of the bathroom and see her ex-girlfriend leaning against the wall of the secluded hallway.

Jimin turned to look at her when she heard Y/N coming out of the bathroom, looking more refreshed than before.

She let out a sigh, crossing her arms over her chest. "Don't you think you're being a bit petty?" she asked, eyebrows furrowed together but face soft, expression neutral.

Y/N was genuinely confused. "Sorry?"

Jimin let out another sigh. "What you said back there. During the show?" she asked, a little annoyed with Y/N. She always managed to make her emotions flare up.

"With the cinnamon?" Y/N shrugged. "What about it?"

"You lied just to get a rise out of me," Jimin grumbled out, looking at Y/N incredulously.

Y/N almost chuckled. "I didn't lie."

"Are you kidding me?" Jimin took a step closer, eyes narrowing into a glare. "You've loved cinnamon your entire life! Every perfume I bought, everything I ever baked for you had cinnamon. Hell, I'm still wearing the perfume right now!"

Y/N nodded, taking a step back as her back pressed against the bathroom door. "Yeah, maybe you should back off a little."

"Are you kidding me?!" Jimin said, hands on her hips now. She was frustrated with her ex-girlfriend, more than she'd been in a while. "You wanted the point so bad you had to lie about it like a child?"

Then it hit her.

What Y/N said.

"What do you mean by 'I should back off a little'?" she asked, taking another step closer.

"I mean, back off!" Y/N pressed a hand to Jimin's shoulder to nudge her away. She was gentle, but her glare wasn't. In only a few seconds, she was walking down the hallway again.

Jimin watched her go, the feeling of Y/N brushing against her skin sending warm chills up her spine. She couldn't help but let her body lean forward, subconsciously wanting to chase after the younger girl.

What was she doing? Why was she acting like this?

"Y/N—"

Y/N was gone already because she knew arguing with Jimin didn't take her anywhere.

She knew they would throw insults at each other until one of them had enough and left.

And she knew that because that's what always happened. And it would continue to happen, for as long as Jimin and the other members refused to hear her out.

So, she got inside the waiting van, put her headphones on, and closed her eyes, pretending she was far away instead of there.

Jimin got into the van shortly after, sitting next to Ning in the very back. She let her eyes wander across the van, taking in the way Minjeong and Aeri interacted with each other—laughing, giggling, smiling, and talking.

And then there was Y/N.

Honestly, Jimin tried to keep the cheating between the two of them. She had never wanted their relationship to affect the group. But Minjeong happened to find her mid panic attack, right after seeing Y/N with the man, and Jimin just couldn't keep the secret to herself. She made Minjeong promise to not treat Y/N differently after that—the two had been best friends long before Jimin appeared in their lives.

But Minjeong was simply unable to look at Y/N in the same way. And when Ning and Aeri noticed the attitude, they were quick to get the answers to their questions as well.

Y/N cheated on Jimin. Y/N was a cheater.

And cheaters didn't deserve kindness.

So, the dynamics within the group shifted, leaving Y/N on one end of the spectrum and the rest of the members on the other.

Jimin bit down on her bottom lip, leaning her head against the side of the van. There was some part of her that still cared about Y/N and this whole situation. She tried her best not to, but she was still so in love with the girl. And she understood her anger.

But that didn't change what had happened. Y/N had broken her trust. She had betrayed her and she had hurt her.

Jimin was lost in her thoughts before someone shook her shoulder. "Huh?" She asked, looking at Ning with a frown.

Ning pointed to the car window, "We're here."

The rest of the members were getting out of the van already. Jimin nodded, grabbing her own bag from beside her before getting out as well.

The five of them were quick to get home and settle in for the night.

Their schedule was impossible these days, so they could never wait to finally get comfortable in their beds.

It was what usually happened. They get comfortable in their b—

"Where the hell are you going?" Jimin was on her way to her bedroom, fresh out of a shower, when she happened to cross a fully dressed and prepared Y/N.

"Out." Y/N said bluntly, not even looking back at Jimin as she pulled a leather jacket over her shoulders. She ran a hand through her hair, a pair of heels in her hands.

Jimin's jaw almost dropped. "You're going out?" She asked, following the girl out towards the living room. She looked good. Really good. Her makeup was perfect, black shirt hugging her body. She always knew how to dress up.

Jimin crossed her arms over her chest, "Where?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N let out a sigh.

This was the last thing she wanted to do.

Explain herself to Jimin.

"Just out."

Jimin shook her head, "It's almost one in the morning, Y/N. You're going nowhere."

Y/N halted by the door, jaw clenched as she turned to Jimin. Her expression was surprisingly calm and, if Jimin didn't know how to read her so well, she might have believed her to be civil.

"Since when are you the one who get's to tell me where I can and can't go?"

Jimin rolled her eyes, "Do you know how many creeps are out at this time? Just stay in."

"Only creep I see is you." Y/N huffed, reaching for the door handle to finally leave.

At that, Jimin let out a scoff. "You weren't saying that when you begged to come back to me after cheating on me."

Y/N almost scoffed. Bringing up their relationship and the cheating always felt like a low blow. "And look who's begging now."

"You—" Jimin's body tensed up, "You're pathetic! You'll go out there and do what? Get attacked and stabbed on the sidewalk?" Jimin asked, almost shouting at her ex-girlfriend.

"Close." Y/N smiled, "I'm gonna get laid."

That made Jimin's breath hitch. She could feel the way her blood boiled and her face heated up. She couldn't let herself lose control of the situation.

"Yeah," Jimin let out, sarcasm dripping from her words, "A new boyfriend. Of course. Cheating on me just wasn't enough, huh?"

"We can talk about it if you want. You know, it's not like we ever got to do that." Y/N was tired of the backhanded shade thrown her way every day.

"Oh, you wanna talk?" Jimin rolled her eyes, taking a few steps closer to where Y/N was standing. "You cheated on me and now you wanna talk? And what good will that do?"

Y/N's heart broke at the accusation. It still hurt to believe that Jimin would think so little of her.

What was the point in even explaining herself? If Jimin didn't trust her enough to even hear her out, then there was no salvation.

Her eyes dropped to the ground as a sigh escaped her lips, "Forget it."

"No, no. You wanted to talk, let's talk!" Jimin said, taking a step closer to Y/N. Her eyes full of anger, sadness, and confusion.

She really wanted to hear what Y/N had to say. She didn't know why, but she desperately wanted to hear it. Maybe she wanted some kind of validation for her own feelings. For the emotions she was still trying to get over.

"Explain yourself, Y/N. Try to explain yourself."

"So you want to hear me out?"

Jimin let out a sigh, "Please?"

She really did. She needed to understand what had happened. 

Y/N was the sweetest person ever. She was the nicest and kindest person Jimin knew.

So how could she do this to her?

"No." Y/N shook her head.

Jimin felt her heart sink in her chest, the little hope she felt getting fainter. "No?" She asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"Stings, huh?" Y/N felt all her buried emotions surfacing, "Trying to make things work, only to be shut down? That was the response you gave me seven months ago, when I tried talking to you. And when I tried again a week after, and the week after that, and the following weeks- the fucking months following that!"

Jimin's jaw clenched. She remembered that. She remembered every detail of it. It hurt.

She wanted to take back everything she said back then. She wanted to take back every mean word, but it was too late. She couldn't go back and change how she felt. She couldn't undo it, but she wished she had let Y/N have peace of mind.

"You cheated on me, Y/N. Did you really expect me to be calm? To be gentle and nice when you hurt me?"

A small, broken smile appeared on Y/N's face. "I just wanted you to hear me out. Instead, you shut me out and turned the members against me."

She finally opened the door, "Very leaderlike of you, I must say."

"What the hell are you talking about? None of them turned against you because of me." Jimin shook her head. "They turned against you because you cheated on me!"

She could feel her blood boiling, the way her face heated. "They're my friends! Of course they were going to take my side!"

"Yeah, they were my friends too."

Jimin bit down on her bottom lip. She knew what Y/N said was true. But it didn't change how hurt the members were. Cheating was one of the worst things a person could do. And that was why none of them spoke to Y/N anymore.

"Maybe if you didn't get drunk with some random man you met at the awards, they would still be." Jimin said, voice cold and stern.

Y/N nodded. "Do me a favor and give them a warning for me, yeah? I'm about to be a whore again, so hopefully they can still look at me without vomiting by the time I come back."

"What-"

"And give them all a little kiss in the ass while you're at it too." Y/N closed the door behind herself and didn't look back.

Her friends were waiting for her downstairs, at the entrance door.

They weren't the best influence. Hell, they weren't even a good influence. But they talked to her, they looked at her, and most importantly, they didn't give a single fuck about her idol life.

"Dude, you gotta convince that stupid security guard to give us entrance rights. This is getting ridiculous." Daeun huffed loudly, nudging Y/N as they walked to her car.

The pub wasn't very far away.

Y/N spent her night just as she had promised Jimin. Drinking, dancing, and kissing strangers.

Most were too drunk to recognize her. The ones that weren't were, surprisingly, nice enough to just let her enjoy the night.

When she woke up, a massive headache had taken over her skull. She groaned, squinting her eyes closed when the sunlight slipped through the barely closed curtains and worsened her pain.

It took her a while, but she eventually realized that her phone was ringing. She groaned again, trying to turn around in the bed, when an unfamiliar weight around her waist kept her in place.

She froze, eyes finally opening to find a pretty stranger sleeping at her side.

"Shit."

Her touch was light as she picked up the woman's arm and set it aside. By the time she grabbed her phone, the call had ended, but it didn't take long for another one to ring through.

"Hello?" Y/N croaked out, voice raspy from the lack of water.

"Where the hell are you?"

Jimin's voice appeared through the other line, loud enough to make Y/N jump out of the bed. The last thing she wanted was to wake up the sleeping woman and go through the entire one-night-stand awkward conversation.

"That's... that's a very good question." Y/N's voice was low. She crouched to grab her jacket off the ground, holding her phone between her ear and shoulder as she got dressed.

"Y/N, don't play with me right now." Jimin had never been so angry at anybody. "We're all in the fucking venue—the managers are going crazy looking for you. Do you know how many times I've been yelled at already?! Where the fuck are you?"

"I-" Y/N looked around the room, trying to find any clue. Nothing. "Don't worry about it. I'll open Google Maps as soon as our call ends, it's no big deal."

"It is a big deal!" Jimin yelled as she started pacing back and forth.

The managers were yelling at her, her members were worried. Hell, even their seniors had noticed that Y/N was not around. Everyone was trying to find the whereabouts of the same person.

"You're in so much trouble, Y/N! What if this leaks? The fucking administration board has already set up a meeting to talk about this—do you have any idea of what you've just done?"

Y/N rolled her eyes. She was a grown woman. She had a right to go out and be normal for a little while. They were acting like she had killed som-

There was the door.

"What if someone caught you on camera, Y/N?! What if Dispatch was following you all along? You could destroy the entire group! How could you be so fucking selfish? How could you do this to me and the gi-"

Jimin was cut off by a loud scream on the other end of the call.

She stopped dead in her tracks, the anger from before immediately dissolving. "Y/N? Are you okay?"

The other line was quiet, which terrified Jimin even more. Her stomach twisted as she waited to hear something from the other end of the call.

Pretty soon, she heard another scream.

"Y/N!" Jimin yelled, her heart thumping in her chest. Someone was hurt, she knew it. Y/N was hurt. Y/N was hurt and instead of trying to find out where she was, she had been yelling at her until now.

"Y/N, I swear to God if you don't answer me right now!"

But Y/N couldn't answer—her phone wasn't even pressed to her ear anymore.

She was surrounded.

By two young women. They looked at her with wide eyes, fallen mouths covered with their hands.

"You're—you're Y/N! From Aespa!"

"Y/N from Aespa is in our flat—holy shit!!!"

It didn't take long for the woman Y/N had slept with to run out of her room—no doubt awakened by the screams. She paused to try and understand what was happening, but then her eyes landed on Y/N.

Y/N from Aespa.

Standing in her hallway with messy hair, an unbuttoned top, and heels in hand.

The woman jumped away. "Holy shit!"

Y/N gulped. She needed to get out of there. Right now.

"Can you give me an autograph?" one of them asked. Y/N stared at her.

"That depends..." Y/N looked around the group. "Does any of you have a car?"

Only an hour later, Y/N was stepping out of a Volvo, and the girls were driving away with their pockets a little heavier.

She was finally where she needed to be. The perfect place to continue getting yelled at.

And, indeed, she was.

She was escorted inside the venue by security guards that recognized her.

One of the group's managers was the first to find her.

He stormed through the hallways, looking for the same person that everyone in the building had been searching for. He had been to her dorm, to the dance practice room, and even to her favorite cafe. He searched so hard but found nothing.

That was until he turned a corner and spotted the face that had been driving him insane.

"Where the hell have you been?" the man yelled. "I've been looking for you everywhere!"

Y/N halted on her steps, knowing that she was in trouble.

The man was fuming, the blood rushing up to his head.

"Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused this morning?! You're lucky the press didn't catch you out last night! If they had, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. You would be in Lee Soo Man's office giving him an explanation on your shitty behavior this morning."

The man ran his fingers through his hair, breathing heavily. "I've been up since seven in the morning trying to find you, do you have any idea of how worried everyone was?"

Y/N pursed her lips, eyes drawn to the ground. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" The man's eyes widened; he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I don't give a crap about your sorry. I'm your manager, you're supposed to answer to me. You can't pull things like this!"

He stopped and took a few breaths, his heart beating faster than he would like.

And then he opened his mouth and continued his yelling. He was soon joined by the two other Aespa managers, and if the entire situation wasn't a loud mess with one man, you could be sure it was with three.

Y/N didn't have much of a choice. She stood there and listened.

She didn't agree with everything they shouted at her, but she wasn't mental enough to speak up.

By the time she reached the stage, where her members were already waiting, the group was an hour behind on schedule, and no one would look her in the eye.

Y/N had to take her hat off to the girls.

They kept their act up.

Be it during practice, when they got home at the end of the day, or the following day—during SMTown.

She was used to being sort of shoved aside, but they had never outright ghosted her.

Their resolve didn't even budge when they were filming an SM Town vlog, so Y/N got a good three seconds of screen time during the video. It, ultimately, didn't matter. Y/N didn't even know why she noticed it.

SM Town began. SM Town ended. The crowd loved it.

Y/N spent more time with her seniors and other groups than with her own members. And by the time night fell and everyone gathered around to go celebrate the show, Y/N was stopped by her manager.

"You should change."

Y/N frowned, eyes falling on the outfit she had just changed into. It was comfortable for her to relax a little but pretty enough to go out and celebrate.

"Why? Is there something wrong with it?"

The man shook his head. "No; it's just not fit for running."

Y/N didn't understand. "Running?"

From the corner of her eye, she noticed a security guard approaching them.

"Running," the man answered. "The higher-ups have spoken." The way he talked made it seem like they were fucking gods. "They want a punishment for your decisions of yesterday. It's not the first time you've pulled a stunt like this, and they've had enough of you."

He looked sorry for a second, but then he turned to the security guard as he walked away. "Fifty laps around the venue. Don't let her stop for too long."

The guard nodded in confirmation, and Y/N felt her mouth fall. "You're kidding."

Her manager just continued walking, so Y/N went on. "I'm not gonna run 50 laps, are you crazy?!"

He shrugged. "You're not leaving this venue without the 50 laps. Lee Yeon here will make sure of it."

She turned to look at the guard and he crossed his arms in front of his chest, eyes unforgiving.

And so there Y/N was. Running around the venue alone, cold air crashing against her red cheeks while she ran.

After the fifteenth lap, she could have sworn her lungs were about to collapse. Her muscles ached and begged to stop. But all she could do was keep putting one foot in front of the other.

One foot in front of the other.

One foot in front of the other.

Much like she did a week later as she walked up the stairs of SM Entertainment. She knocked but didn't really wait for permission to go inside the office.

She walked up to the director sitting at his desk and handed him the stack of papers she had arranged with her lawyer.

"I'm out. Sue me, do whatever you want—I'm leaving."

[summertimesadnessirl]

Yeah.

I figured it out.

It's on purpose.

I thought there was something wrong with me, personally this whole time.

This is just what boom bust cycles are.

A bull market is when capitalism tells people to buy anything and a bear market is when the poors are complaining too much and they suddenly fake it and claim the job market is bad.

They just decided to not tell you that so you feel defective.

And it goes with lots of other things, too.

People will just like, assume you know things are connected and try to classically condition you into doing x or y or not doing z. The goal is to slowly force people to become conservative over time by traumatizing them in punishment for doing not conservative things, but make it seem like a coincidence and then claim that's just how it has to be.

You get better and then...

I don't know what to call them?

It's not like

AGENT SMITH OF THE MATRIX

Right?

It's more like everyone gets better.

And then... someone is like...

"Okay now turn the misery generator all the way back up really fast!"

And they kinda fluctuate turning the misery generator off and turning it back on again, and then make propaganda to blame anything that people did a lot of when the misery generator was turned off because it was giving people hope when the misery generator was turned on and now they can spend money on it and stuff for it until everyone withdraws financial and emotional and community support and blame the usual targets and do... idk? It's not hegel? I read it in a book by a conspiracy theorist but I don't wanna say his name because when he was like "wow there are yeerks doing this basically but the yeerks are like thoughtforms or a metaphor for rich people or I believe them to literally be aliens" he was awesome but later he said that it was Jewish people. But he said that basically they create problems then use the solution against you.

It's important to know that they create problems in like a vague top level way, then they wait.

Like...

"We turned the misery generator up to high, we turned enforcement of minor crimes related to poverty way up, we criminalized a lot of stuff poor people do that wasn't criminalized before, we claimed that this thing people like is actually evil, now we're just going to wait for specific news events that reinforce our thesis and use them to keep widening the cracks by over reporting them and proposing solutions that widen the cracks and creating bad publicity around the cracks in ways that widen the cracks and creating unrealistic propaganda that the cracks aren't real and people are lying about them and over stating them and so on and so on."

Anything that happens when the misery generator is turned on is like a weapon they are allowed to use against you.

Then they tell you actually you are the weapon.

it’s so heartbreaking to realize that i’m not getting better.. it’s just phases of good, then bad, then repeat.. no matter how good i think i’m doing, it always seems to get bad again..

[phoenixrisingastro]

🔥 ASTRO OBSERVATIONS V: THE DARKEST SECRETS NO ONE WANTS TO ADMIT 🔥

This is not your basic astrology post. This is the raw truth, the obsession, the manipulation, the taboo. These are the secrets written in your chart that you don’t want anyone to know. But I see them. And now, so will everyone else.

🔪 1. Scorpio placements don’t “heal,” they just get better at hiding the damage. You’ll never see a Scorpio truly break down. They’ll self-destruct in private and come back looking stronger, colder, untouchable.

💋 2. Venus in Aries needs the thrill of the chase—but once they catch you, they’re already looking for their next target. The fun isn’t in keeping you, it’s in making you obsessed first.

🕷 3. Pluto in the 7th House doesn’t just attract toxic relationships, they ARE the toxic relationship. If you date them, you will never be the same. You might leave, but you won’t escape.

👄 4. People with Mercury square Pluto know exactly what to say to ruin you. One sentence, one whisper, one well-timed truth—and your entire world crumbles. They don’t argue. They just destroy.

🖤 5. Capricorn moons will mourn you while they’re still in the relationship. They don’t leave when they’re done loving you. They leave when they’ve already grieved your absence in their mind.

🔥 6. Lilith in the 8th House is a walking fantasy and a living nightmare. You will crave them, you will want to own them, and in the end? You will be consumed by them.

👁 7. People with Neptune in the 1st House don’t lie on purpose—they just don’t know who the fuck they are. Every personality they take on is real in the moment—but it won’t be real forever.

💔 8. Mars in the 12th House doesn’t show their anger—they absorb yours. The more you push them, the more it builds. And when it finally explodes? It’s over for you.

⛓ 9. Venus square Saturn can’t tell if they’re in love or in debt to someone. They’ll stay in relationships out of guilt, obligation, or karma long after the love is gone.

🩸 10. Pluto in the 1st House was born with a target on their back. People sense their power before they even speak, and they either want to control them, ruin them, or worship them.

💀 11. If you have Sun opposite Pluto, one of your parents wanted to be you, but couldn’t. Instead, they spent your childhood breaking you down so you’d never surpass them.

💋 12. Venus conjunct Mars people are either irresistible or repulsive—there’s no in-between. People either can’t get enough of them, or they feel deeply disturbed by their energy.

🩸 13. If you have Mars in the 8th House, you know what it’s like to almost kill someone in bed. Enough said.

💀 14. A Moon-Pluto person will love you deeper than anyone else—until they realize you’re not worth it. And when they leave? You’ll never find that depth again.

🕷 15. Chiron in the 7th House attracts lovers who stab them in their weakest spot. Every heartbreak feels like a personal betrayal. They love hard, and they get burned even harder.

💔 16. A Scorpio Venus will NEVER truly let go of you. You will live in the back of their mind, rotting there, forever.

🖤 17. People with Mars in Scorpio never fight fair. If you’ve pissed them off? You won’t even know they’re coming for you until it’s too late.

👁 18. Neptune in the 5th House makes people addicted to falling in love. They don’t love people—they love the feeling of love itself. The moment the illusion breaks, so does their desire.

🕯 19. Saturn in the 12th House comes into this life already tired. Their soul is carrying exhaustion from past lives, and they don’t even know why.

🩸 20. Pluto in the 5th House creates artists that make pain beautiful. They take their trauma and turn it into something that haunts others.

🔥 21. People with Mars in Leo will NEVER forget the one person who rejected them. They could be adored by millions, but the ONE who didn’t bow? That’s the one who haunts them.

🩸 22. If you have Venus in the 12th House, your love life will always feel like a tragic love story. The person you love most? You’ll never fully have them.

🕷 23. Moon in the 8th House people know things about you that you don’t even know about yourself. They can read your soul, your wounds, your fears. And you’ll never understand how.

💔 24. A South Node in the 7th House was born to learn how to be alone. Every relationship will break them down until they learn to choose themselves first.

💀 25. Saturn in the 5th House people never felt like children, even when they were kids. They were born into responsibility, and life has never truly felt light.

🔥 26. Lilith in the 1st House women don’t attract attention—they COMMAND it. People will stare, obsess, and fear them, all without knowing why.

💋 27. Pluto conjunct Venus people will either be the best thing that’s ever happened to you, or the worst. They either heal you, or they leave you scarred for life.

🖤 28. Uranus in the 7th House people attract lovers who come out of nowhere and disappear just as fast. Their love life is a never-ending storm.

💀 29. If someone has Pluto square their Moon, they have an unresolved war with their mother. And it will bleed into every relationship they ever have.

🔥 30. The darkest part of your chart is where you hold the most power. Until you own it? It will own you.

👁 So? Did I hit you where it hurts?

🔥 Drop your placements. Let’s see who’s brave enough to admit the truth..

© PhoenixRisingAstro, 2025. All rights reserved

[bosbas]

Chapter 7: I wish I could un-recall how we almost had it all

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!daphne's best friend!reader WC: 2.0k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love, mentions of pregnancy, ANGST!!!!!

Summary: At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)

July 13, 1812 - Waking up the past few days had been absolute torture. But waking up today and seeing the blood on your sheets was worse than any morning you’d ever had. 

A part of you was relieved. You had gotten your courses. You weren’t with child. You didn’t have to trap Anthony in a loveless marriage.

It was good news, right?

That’s what you were desperately repeating to yourself over and over as you sat in your bed sobbing uncontrollably. 

It truly was over then. There was no baby, and there would be no marriage. You’d be lucky if Anthony ever talked to you again, though you wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. All because you thought it would be a fun game to dabble with someone’s real feelings.

What's more, your courses actually came a few days early. It was like the universe was completely and categorically rejecting the idea of a happy ending with Anthony. It was what you deserved, you supposed. At least the misery of not knowing was over.

To make matters worse, your crying was so loud that your father popped his head into your room, an extremely unusual occurrence. 

“What is all this ruckus?” he asked. “Is everything alright?”

Not having the time, energy, or desire to fully explain what was happening, and doubting he’d care, you told your father, “My courses came.”

“Oh,” he said, suddenly growing very uncomfortable. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” 

Predictable. He wasn’t one to get involved with women’s issues.

---

You had given yourself a few hours to mope around your home, mourning the loss of what could have been. But it was time to face your fears, and you headed over to the Bridgerton residence.

It was usually only a few minutes' walk, but you were dreading the impending conversation so much that it was almost fifteen minutes before you reached their front door.  

What scared you the most was that you had no idea how Anthony was going to take the news. You knew the responsibility was yours to go to the Bridgerton home and inform him, but you hadn’t seen him or Daphne since the day after your fateful ball.

As you reached their front entrance, before you could even knock, the door burst open and you saw Anthony standing in front of you. 

Not that you were in a position to enjoy it, but he looked exceedingly handsome. He was clearly on his way out to go to town, and you didn’t know whether to curse or thank the universe for putting him in front of you before he left for the day. 

“Oh!” you gasped, startled. “Um, hello, Anthony,” you greeted awkwardly. 

He just stared back, unmoving. He hadn’t been expecting to talk to you for at least a few more days and was entirely unprepared now.

“Daphne’s just inside,” he said after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. 

“No, I’m here to speak with you, actually.”

“Oh,” he said simply, not giving away what he was feeling. It hadn't even been a week! Surely there was no news yet? Surely he could still hold out some hope?

He stepped outside and closed the door, allowing you two some privacy for the conversation you were about to have.

“I- Well, I just wanted to inform you that my courses came this morning,” you said, your voice wavering. 

“Oh,” he repeated. 

Was that really all he was going to say?

You cleared your throat stiffly. “And evidently no one saw us sneak off to the library the other night, otherwise we’d have heard the rumors by now.” A pause. “I suppose this means you won’t need to propose, then. And we can go our own ways.”

It was like your words ignited something in Anthony, and he finally moved to cross his arms in front of his chest, a prominent scowl on his face. 

“I suppose it does. Congratulations. Your little plan worked perfectly, then. Daphne was able to court a scumbag while you distracted me and remained perfectly detached.”

His angry words cut you deep. Almost out of habit when you needed comfort, you reached out for his broken hand that was still bandaged. He took a step back, almost looking panicked as he eyed your outstretched arm. 

You felt tears welling in your eyes, but you didn’t let them fall. You deserved no sympathy from the man in front of you.

Blinking them away, you sniffed. “Anthony, I know nothing I say will ever make it up to you but I truly am sorry. It was never my intention to let it go on for so long.”

“And yet you did.”

“I did,” you replied, feeling ashamed. “But you must know, the time we did have together-”

But Anthony interrupted before you could continue. “I’ll be moving into bachelor’s lodgings as soon as possible. That way our paths won’t have to cross again unless there’s a big family event. I wish you the best in your future endeavors, and I sincerely hope you find a love match eventually.”

You choked back a sob. “Is this truly the last time we’ll talk?”

“I can hope,” he responded, cruelly echoing back the words you had said to him a few days ago. 

And with that, he pushed past you down the stairs, going toward his waiting carriage, not sparing you a second glance.

You were left crying outside of the Bridgertons’ door, head in your hands as you realized the gravity of Anthony’s statement. 

That was exactly how Violet found you twenty minutes later. 

“Oh no, my Y/N, what happened?” she asked, placing a comforting arm around your shoulders. 

You could only turn and sob into her shoulder, too shaken up to form any coherent words. 

Violet, bless her, rubbed your back soothingly as she led you back into her home, her afternoon of shopping completely forgotten now.

“Why don’t we ring for some tea and you can talk to me and Daphne about what’s bothering you?”

An hour later you had calmed down considerably and Daphne was in the middle of apologizing profusely for telling Anthony while Violet tried to process the information her daughter and her best friend had just divulged. You had scrubbed any mention of your escapade with Anthony from the story you told his mother, of course. But most other details remained accurate.

“It’s not your fault,” you waved away Daphne’s apology. “You only told him the truth. He was going to find out eventually, one way or another.”

“But it was my idea in the first place!” she insisted. “And a stupid one at that, seeing how things ended with Phillip.”

“Which we are not done discussing,” interjected Violet, still horrified that someone like him could treat her daughter that way. 

“Regardless, I would have come up with the idea myself and gone through with it if you hadn't,” you reassured her. “What’s done is done. I’m only sorry he’ll be leaving home.”

Daphne laughed and shook her head. “He’d been wanting to leave for ages. Besides, it’ll be nice to have some more peace and quiet around here.”

Always one to stay on topic, Violet kept up her line of questioning. “Why don’t the two of you get married still? Your feelings for him are clearly real, no matter how you ended up having them.”

Surprisingly, tears welled up in your eyes again After the day you’d had, you didn’t think you had any left in you, but the situation was just too dire not to cry over it. “He told me earlier he wishes to never speak with me again.”

Violet gasped. “That can’t be right, he would never say such a thing!”

You could only nod glumly, remembering his cold, uncaring eyes as he moved past you earlier that day. 

“I just can’t believe I ruined it all,” you cried. “It would have been so wonderful if only I hadn’t acted so carelessly.”

Violet tsked. “You wouldn’t have even looked at him in a romantic light if it weren’t for your silly plan. Who knows if things would have really been different.”

“At least I wouldn’t have a broken heart,” you said softly, wistfully looking out the window. 

“There is simply no world in which he can just forget how he feels about you,” insisted Daphne, trying to stay hopeful. 

“There’s nothing left,” you said, well aware of the situation you were in and rejecting any fantasies that would make you feel better temporarily. “I made the choices I made and I must live with them now.”

---

“Why is Y/N never round for dinner anymore?” asked Hyacinth suddenly one night. 

“Yes, I miss playing chess with her before I go to bed. No one else here seems to want to play,” complained Gregory, in a rare moment of agreement with his youngest sister.

“She does seem to have very suddenly stopped showing up,” said Francesca. She eyed Daphne and Anthony suspiciously, knowing one of the two was bound to be the cause of your absence. 

“Well, I certainly didn’t tell her to stop coming,” said Daphne, glaring at her older brother. 

Anthony laughed coldly. “That’s rich coming from you. You know exactly why she stopped showing up, and it’s not exactly my fault.”

“Anthony!” exclaimed Violet, shocked at the sudden outburst of anger.

“Forget it,” he grumbled, standing up from the dinner table and storming off to his study.

A few moments later, Violet knocked on the door of Anthony’s study, not waiting for a response before she slipped in and closed the door behind her. 

“You’re not truly angry,” she stated, not even posing it as a question.

“Yes, I am,” Anthony insisted. 

“Your anger conceals something deeper, and it might do you some good to let it out.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Anthony responded, but his voice lacked his previous conviction. “I am angry,” he repeated, his voice breaking as he tried to convince himself of his feelings. 

“It’s not a crime to feel things for someone, you know. Even when they don’t work out.”

“What is the point then? If they amount to nothing?” Anthony pressed, struggling to find a greater reason for the complete heartbreak he felt day in and day out. 

It was torture to be away from you, to be sure. But he knew he would never be able to hold it together if he saw you in the flesh. Regardless, that didn’t stop him from missing you. Your rosy perfume. The way you threw your head back when you laughed. How tightly your hands held his hand when you were anxious about something.

And that was what killed him. He’d had real and profound feelings for you. He thought that was it. That you were it. He’d thought he'd found the person he was going to marry. He’d found his present and his future and everything in betweem.

But it had all been a lie. And so the anger kept coming back. And he could do nothing to stop it. 

It was misplaced anger, he knew. At you, at the world, at the fact that your courses had come and you would not have his child, and at the fact that he could never have you in a way that truly mattered. 

“That is exactly what makes you human, Anthony. You can’t go around life expecting to never be hurt. It’s a rare thing to feel that way about someone.”

“Good. I’m glad it’s rare. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.”

“Anthony!” Violet gasped, scandalized. “Love is not a curse.”

“It certainly feels like one.”

“You could still be with her, you know. All this misplaced love, it’ll do you no good to keep it bottled up.”

“I can’t,” insisted Anthony, his voice breaking again. “I wanted to marry her still. I even asked her. I thought she’d love me back if I only had some time to convince her. But she didn’t want to marry me,” he confessed, succumbing to his feelings and putting his head in his hands as he cried. 

“Why don’t you try talking to her again?” suggested Violet, rubbing her son’s back comfortingly. 

“I can’t,” he replied, rubbing his eyes. “It’s for the better.”

—

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[tpwk-formula1]

Hello, can I please request Charles jealous smut?

AN: Definitely went a bit of a different route than normal but I enjoyed writing this! Started it right before I went to the hospital and was able to finish it tonight! I hope you guys enjoy. I know its a bit shorter but I'm running on melatonin and oxi so bare with me haha

TW: multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, low-key asshole Charles (very beginning)

WC: 1.2K

Y/N POV

"Charles, what's wrong?" I ask for the third time since getting back into the car after leaving the end of year Ferrari dinner.

"God damn it, Y/N! Nothing I said nothing was fucking wrong," Charles snaps at me making me gasp slightly at the out burst.

"Charles Leclerc, do not ever speak to me like that again," I shout at him when we finally get back to the apartment.

I had chosen to keep quiet the rest of the way home, hoping it would help cool the both of us down but when we walked through the door and Charles instantly beelined for our bedroom mumbling to himself I finally snap.

"Then don't ever talk to Carlos Sainz again," Charles snap back while turning around to show he had fire in his eyes.

It finally had clicked for me. Charles was jealous which isn't something that happens often but when it does he tends to turn into the green monster.

"Charles, are you fucking kidding me! Carlos is leaving Ferrari, and I was telling him about how I've enjoyed his time with Ferrari," I shout back at him making Charles roll his eyes before stomping his way into the bedroom and slamming the door. The whole dramatics

A part of me just laughs softly at his childish antics but the other part of me is still raging with anger at the way he had spoken to me.

I make my way into the kitchen grabbing myself something to drink before grabbing the bottle of tequila and taking a shot of the bitter liquor.

When I feel myself cool down just enough I march into out bedroom to find Charles already under the covers ready for bed but instead of him laying in the middle of the bed like normal he's on the very edge as far away from my side as possible.

"I hope Leo pushes you off the bed," I scoff when Charles doesn't even acknowledge me.

"Maybe if you slept in Carlos's bed like you want I would have more room to cuddle with Leo," Charles replies back in a sheepish mumble showing me that he's getting close to crumbling and apologizing.

"It's actually why I came in here. Need to pack an overnight bag," I comment with a smirk on my face but before I can even make it into the closet Charles is up from his spot on the bed and storming towards me before pushing me against the wall.

"You think this is funny?" Charles seethes making me shrug my shoulders.

"I mean ya kind of Charles, we both know damn well I have never and will never be into Carlos, so ya you being jealous and threatened by him is hilarious," I reply back making Charles's eyes narrow slightly at me before I see his should relax slightly.

"I- 'm sorry," Charles mumbles clearly letting the embarrassment sink in.

"I don't know why it upset me so much tonight. I know it's not an excuse but I am sorry for getting jealous and even more sorry for how I spoke to you," Charles admits softly while pulling my face into his hand.

"I don't even care when you get jealous, if anything I find it hot as fuck, but I do care about the way you speak to me," I tell him softly feeling my anger slowly start to ease.

"I know and it was wrong, I really am sorry," Charles says again making me smile softly and nod my head.

"You're forgiven, but I demand 3 orgasms," I say with a smile and a nod.

"Deal," Charles says with a laugh before pulling me in and placing a soft kiss on my lips and pulling me by my waist towards our bed.

When Charles drops me down on the bed he quickly climbs up to join me pulling off his shirt at the same time.

When Charles joins me on the bed he wraps my legs around his hips before he leans down and pulls me in for a kiss while grinding his hard cock down into my dripping core.

"Charles please, I need you," I whine when I can feel my pleasure soaking through my flimsy panties.

Charles finally pulls back and quickly pulls my panties off before wasting no time attaching his mouth to my sensitive clit. He knew it wouldn't take long to throw me over the edge but when I feel him slipping his fingers into my soaked pussy I can't help the loud cry that falls from my lips.

"Fuck! Charlie," I cry when I feel his fingers grazing my G-spot while his lips are still sucking on my clit.

"Cum for me," Charles mumbles into my pussy making me cry out and cum all over his finger.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I moan in a chant as Charles continues to fuck me through my first orgasm.

"Too much," I cry when I realize Charles isn't letting me come down from my high but rather throwing me right into another orgasm.

"You want three no?" Charles asks with a smirk on his face before speeding his fingers up even more and attaching his mouth back to my overly sensitive clit.

"Charles," I cry out when I feel his start speeding all his actions up clearly with the intentions to bring me to another orgasm.

"Charlie," I cry out when I feel myself fall over the edge again not expecting the orgasm to hit me so fast.

"Fuck, good girl," Charles groans while fingering me harder and letting me squirt all over the bed and his face.

As soon as I started to come down from my high Charles is quickly pulling his boxer off before climbing back into bed and quickly rubbing the tip of his hard leaking cock through my soaked folds before finding my dripping hole and quickly pushing his whole cock deep into my pussy making me whimper the the stretch of his cock.

"Fuck!" Charles and I both groan put at the exact same time while he starts slowly thrusting his hips in and out of my soaked pussy.

It doesn't take long for me to fully adjust to Charles's size and once I do he quickly speeds up his trusts while making sure to hit all the good spots deep within my pussy.

"Fuck Charlie," I cry out when I feel myself crawling closer and closer to another orgasm.

"Fuck, feel so good," Charles cries out as his hips start to shutter a bit letting me know he was getting close to cumming as well.

"Fuck, I'm cumming," I cry out when I feel Charles bring his fingers down to my clit and teasing me until I fall over the edge pulling him with me.

"Fuck," Charles grunts out when I feel his hip shutter one final time before filling my pussy up with his hot cum.

As we are both trying to catch our breath I wrap my arms around his neck pulling him down to rest his body on top of mine.

"Fuck, that was good," I breath out making Charles laugh softly.

"I'm sorry for the way I spoke to you in the car and when we got home," Charles says while slowly slipping his softening cock out of me and laying on his back and pulling me into his chest.

"You're forgiven, I guess," I tease making Charles roll his eyes softly but still pull me in tighter to his chest.

"I love you and thinking about losing you makes me a bit insane," Charles admits making me smile softly. I definitely couldn't imagine my life without him either.

"I love you too," I reply back softly while curling into his side a bit closer.

[vershautece]

lu comforting u on your period (; <3 starts sfw then nsfw

you’d be cuddling in bed resting in between his legs, your back against his chest, his arms wrapped securely around your waist, hands softly caressing your abdomen to soothe the dull ache. you’re watching something on TV to distract yourself from the discomfort, and lu’s pressing soft kisses up and down your neck. ‘is it getting any worse? let me know if it does, baby, and i’ll get the heating pad, ok?’ and he gives the side of your neck a slow, soft kiss

‘it’s more discomfort right now than serious pain, but thank you, luigi, i love you’ u reply, bringing one of his hands to your lips to press a couple soft kisses before placing it back down on your abdomen. ‘and i don’t want you to get me anything because then you’ll have to stop cuddling me while u go and get it - i don’t want you to move’ you laugh a little through the pain, and he laughs too against your neck

10 mins later you’re getting restless because it’s been an hour and your cramps still haven’t gone despite the ibuprofen u took as soon as they started. ‘lu…’ you moan from the pain

‘mhm?’ he murmurs against your neck - his kisses haven’t stopped since you’ve been cuddling. you grip his hand tight as you feel a particularly harsh cramp. ‘is it getting worse now?’ he asks you, shifting slightly to pull you up from in between his legs to sit on his thigh, turned to the side so you can see him. ‘bring your knees up to your chest and lean into me, ok?‘

you get into the fetal position and rest your head on his chest. ‘fuck, why do men not have to go through this’ u squeeze your eyes shut, jaw clenched as the pain continues. it’s still not excruciating like it can be, but it’s so so uncomfortable. luigi chuckles slightly at your words, and you snap your eyes back open to glare up at him. ‘don’t piss me off, luigi’

‘baby im sorry, i wasn’t laughing at the situation, you can hit me if you want’ he looks at u with a slight smirk on his face, and u roll your eyes and smile. ‘i don’t even have the energy to do that’ you sigh, shuffling further up his thigh and wrapping your arms around his neck.

you both sit in silence for a couple mins, lu rubbing your back softly, while you bury your face in his neck. ‘hey, i know how i can make you feel better’ he whispers, but you don’t move from his neck. ‘princess’ he continues, leaning his head back from you a little and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

‘mmm? lu, i don’t want the heating pad because i’ll get too hot and i don’t want you getting out of the bed’ you complain, wrapping your arms around his neck tighter and snuggling further into him

‘sh, i’m not talking about the heating pad, beautiful. lay on your back’

‘luigiii, what are you talking about, i thought you said this was the best position’ you respond through exhausted sighs, refusing to move your head from his neck. he chuckles in your ear: ‘baby, listen to me. lay on your back, i promise you’ll feel better’

you lift your head from his neck finally to look up at him - he kisses your nose and gives u his signature smile, a teasing glint in his eye to which you’re oblivious. ‘whatever you say, sir’ you roll your eyes playfully, pulling yourself off of him and moving to lay on your back beside him.

he then shuffles down the bed further than you so he can rest his head on your chest, and he starts peppering soft kisses along your neck and collarbone, then the space in between your boobs that your low cut top displays. at the same time he’s caressing your stomach again, rubbing softly back and forth and massaging your waist and hips.

‘mmm, lui’ you start threading your fingers through his curls, and you’re becoming increasingly turned on by the wet sounds of his kisses and his soft hums against your skin. ‘baby, can you suck on my boobs? they’re so sore and i think it’ll take my mind off the cramps’

he looks up at you and smiles teasingly: ‘i was planning to, baby. that’s why i’ve got you on your back like this’ he lifts your top over your tits, you’re not wearing a bra and you take a deep breath in anticipation, your nipples are so sensitive right now. ‘don’t worry’ luigi presses more kisses around your chest area, ‘i always know what you want, princess. i know you’re sore, gonna make you feel better’ he whispers against your skin, before latching his tongue onto your right nipple.

‘aw, baby, thank you, mmm’ you continue caressing and playing with his curls as he looks after you, still rubbing softly on your abdomen. his tongue feels perfect licking over your nipple with every sucking motion, and his soft moans vibrate against you to increase the sensation. he attends to your right boob for about 5 minutes, the both of u letting out sweet moans and even though the pain of your cramps still won’t subside, he’s soothing you so well. he looks up at you, mouth still attached to your nipple, and flicks his tongue against it to watch your reaction as he does. ‘ohhh, god, luigi’ you whine as your face contorts in pleasure. he hums in satisfaction against you, and then pulls away to kiss your neck as his hand on your abdomen slowly starts slipping lower, teasing the waistband of your sweatpants. ‘gonna rub your clit, okay, baby? hm? need to give you an orgasm to get rid of those cramps. i know you’re horny, yeah? you feeling sensitive?’

‘mhm, lu, i’m so horny, i didn’t wanna say anything’ you throw your head back as he massages your tits one at a time and kisses that sweet spot in your neck.

‘i know, baby, i know, but you should tell me what you need - always gonna give it to you, mhm’ he murmurs against you as his hand slips underneath your sweatpants to rub you through your panties.

‘ohh, fuck yes, play with my clit baby’ you whine, so sensitive that the slightest touch is driving you crazy. your hands tangle in his hair, and he laughs into your neck: ‘i’m not even inside your panties yet beautiful, and you’re already moaning like this for me. so fuckin’ sensitive, huh?’

‘lu, shut up, i need your fingers on my clit’

he laughs softly again at your neediness: ‘why weren’t you this vocal an hour ago baby, you know how easily i can make you cum’

he brings his hand up to spit on his fore and middle finger, then slips inside your panties, and starts rubbing slow, delicate circles on your clit. you instinctively arch your back a little, moving your hips as he pleasures you. ‘yeah, that’s so good, oh, luigi, fuck baby’

‘want my mouth again? your tits are so swollen, dolcezza, mm’ he mutters against your nipple, without taking it in his mouth to tease u. ‘lu, don’t tease meee’ you whine, and instantly he starts sucking on you again, soft whines pulling from his own throat. his cock is straining, he’s been hard for a while but he’s so focused on pleasuring u that he accepts he’ll be cumming in his pants. his fingers are working faster on your clit now, the palm of his hand resting directly on your abdomen, like your own personal heating pad.

‘lu, i’m so close, mm, fuck, don’t stop’ you moan out, the pain of your cramps almost gone now from the impact of your arousal.

‘gonna cum for me baby? i’m close too, look down at my cock sweetheart. i’m so fucking hard, love sucking on these tits, mm’ as he’s sucking your right boob you’re massaging the left, and tugging at his curls so tight with your other hand.

‘oh yeah, i’m gonna cum, babyy, oh don’t stop, i love you’ you’re moaning so loud, hips rocking against the sheets as lu works his fingers impossibly faster, grunting against your boob so you can tell he’s close too.

‘my fingers making you feel so good, bellissima? just from rubbing your clit? that’s my girl, c’mon, let go for me, cum in your panties’

‘oh luigiiii, fuckkk, mmmm’ you whine and moan as you cum - he’s still sucking on you, and a few moments later his grunts get louder against you, followed by heavy breathing as he shuts his eyes and pushes his hips into the sheets. his fingers slow down on your clit, giving it a light smack that makes u squeal, before pulling his hand out of your panties and wrapping both arms around your waist, head on your chest.

‘so you came in your pants? i’m sorry’ you smirk down at him, and he rolls his eyes playfully. ‘i don’t care, i was looking after you, doesn’t matter about me’

there’s a short silence as you’re running your fingers through his curls, and you’re the next to speak. ‘lu’ - ‘mhm?’ - ‘um, do you think we could have sex tomorrow? like… i’m on my period but –’

‘if you’re comfortable with it, yeah, of course. i’ve already researched - um - about that before’ he blushes against your chest. ‘you have? well then you can show me what you know’ you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly.

‘yeah, i never brought it up because even though i knew it’d make you feel better i didn’t wanna overstep a boundary’

your heart flutters, and you cradle him further into your chest. ‘lu, you’re so sweet, you could’ve asked me if i would be okay with it’ you kiss his forehead, and he smiles against you.

a few moments pass, and he looks up at you from his position on your chest. ‘baby? y’know i was only sucking on one of your boobs, do you want me to do the same for the other one? is that one just as sore?’

you giggle in response: ‘luigi, no other guy in the world would give a fuck about that and that’s why i love you - i have the most perfect boyfriend in existence. you always look after me’

he blushes and smiles, burying his face into your neck. ‘great, i love you too, but what’s the answer to my question?’

‘yes the other one is just as sore but we can just go to sleep if you’re tired, baby’ you respond, but he shifts over to the other side of you to lean against your left boob instead: ‘it’s fine, i wanna look after you, this body is gonna carry my children one day’ he makes eye contact with u before starting to suck softly on your nipple.

you hum in content, caressing his neck and his back up and down. ‘luigi, i’m literally just on my period and my boobs are a little swollen, i can’t even imagine the level of concern from you when i have a human being growing inside of me’

he laughs against you, and caresses your stomach. ‘did the cramps go completely?’

‘yeah, they actually did’ you smile

‘see, it’s science’ he looks up at you, winking playfully before attending to your breast again <3 you both lie there for a while, and eventually shift positions so he’s spooning you with his hands on your stomach as you fall asleep <33

[miyuhpapayuh]

Right back.

“Hey, Cliff!”

Her deep wine stained lips catch his attention, before his eyes travel to her attire, making him lick his own.

Who knew blue and cheetah print went together. She honestly could pull off anything, and he never shied from telling her such.

“Always a pleasure, gorgeous.” He flirts, pulling her in for a hug as she inhales his heavenly scent like always. He thought it was cute.

“I missed you!”

“They always do,” he jokes, wincing at the slap she delivers to his arm.

“I'm joking,” he laughs. “I missed you too, girl.”

“Yeah, tryna play me like one of ya lil groupies,” she rolls her eyes.

“Never that. You know you was always my favorite.”

“Your favorite, what?” She raises a brow, waiting on his slick ass to answer.

He chuckles, his pink tongue chasing his toothpick around his mouth as he watches her grow a tad more impatient.

“My favorite lil boo,”

“Damn, how many you got?” She asks, not missing a beat.

He laughs again, earning another slap to the arm.

“Well shit, after you ran off on me,” he holds his heart, making her sigh, “I found somebody else to roll with for a bit, but it ain't last.” He shrugs.

“Aw, she was boring, huh?” She smirks.

“Ah, she was cool. Pretty, too. She was no you, tell ya that,” he winks.

“Nobody's me, Cliff.”

“That's what I missed, girl.”

“Mmhm… you really be telling people I ran off on you??” She asks, not forgetting what he had said.

“Nah, my people know it was mutual,” he assures, “I just wanted my moment.”

“I knew you had a little bit of sense,” she smiles, shaking her head.

“Ha ha. Anyway smart mouth, who got you out the house?”

“I like parties, sometimes! The host and I share a mutual friend and she passed along the invite. Plus who wouldn't wanna use an excuse to show some skin?”

“Mmhm, I told you, you looked good right?”

“Soon as you saw me,” she smirks. “But say it again.”

He chuckles, grabbing her hand to kiss it.

“You look better than Janet Jackson, girl.”

“Ooh, not Janet!” She giggles, swatting him as soon as he releases her hand.

“Shit, I'm serious. Tryna give me a heart attack and shit.”

“Mmhm, come make me a drink and maybe I won't cut you.”

A couple hours into her being in his presence and she was already in trouble.

If it was possible, he's even more fine! And whatever he had on, she was ready to lick it off.

Maybe she was ovulating or something, but she was ready to pounce on him.

“You make this outfit?” He asks, snapping her out of her daze.

“Of course, these boutiques don't have my taste!”

“Mm, and tasty you are.” He smirks, placing his blunt back between his lips.

“Don't start nothing, Cliff,” she laughs, crossing one leg over the other.

“Nothing I can't finish.” He responds, passing her the blunt.

“Well whatchu tryna do?”

He looks her up and down, before darkly chuckling.

“You.”

“Don't.. stop.. fuckin… me, babyyyy!”

Bent over the side of the couch with her skirt up and panties missing, she buries her face into the pillows below her as Cliff fucks her with the most deliciously bruising force.

“Mmf, I missed the fuck outta you, girl,” he grits out, smacking her ass a few times, smirking at his hand print on her brown skin.

“Fucckkk!”

“You missed me too, baby?” He asks, grabbing her neck from behind.

“Ye– yes!” She squeaks out, reaching back to grip his thigh, melting as he grinds into her.

Bending her arm to her back, he thrusts upward, finding what he calls the sweet spot.

Her muffled moans kick into high gear as her arch falters, making him taunt and coo at her.

“Right here, baby? Daddy hittin’ that sweet spot?”

Turning her head to the side to breathe, she whines and weakly nods as he moves his hand to her back, reinforcing her arch, precisely hitting her spot.

“Yes, right there… fuck, that feels s-so good!” She squeals, squeezing her eyes shut at the sensation overload.

“So good,” he moans back, speeding up and knocking the air from her lungs again, making her see stars a little earlier than she planned.

“B-baby, I'm c-cumming!”

“I got you baby, let it out,” he groans, almost following suit as she grips him tight, throbbing something vicious.

“Fffffuckkk,” she moans, squeezing her thighs together as he continues to dip into her sticky center.

“Keep that ass just like that,” his hips moving quicker, damn near making her eyes cross as she continues holding on for dear life with her free arm.

She wasn't even sure how she ended up folded up on his couch.

He just looked so good, yapping about how much he missed her. Couldn't get her and her sweet pussy outta his head.

Next thing you know, she was thanking god that he lived in a house and not an apartment, cause no way they would have went without a noise complaint.

“Who you fuck when I was gone?” He asks, swatting her ass.

“He wasn't you,” she whines.

“Mm,” he pulls her up from the cushion, while still stroking her, “he wasn't, huh?”

Her fingers are now curled around the pillows, as she fervently shakes her head. His hands grip her waist tightly, keeping her in place.

“He couldn't fuck me like you do,”

“Mmm,” he growls right into her ear, making her eyes flutter shut. “He don't get up in them guts like me?”

“Deeper, baby, deeeper,” she moans as he bottoms out and sits there, driving her crazy.

“Where's it at?”

“In my chest,” she breathlessly laughs, making him do the same before moving his hips again.

“Oh, that's my spot,” she moans, biting into her lip as his hand finds her neck, bending her backwards a bit.

“Couldn't find them spots either, hm?” He teases, listening to the way her slick sounds against the slapping of his dick.

“N-noo, fuck! Oh my goodness, that's so good!”

“So good, you gon cum for me, baby?”

“Yess, don't stop!”

How many times did he make you cum?”

“Onnnce,” she ends on a hiss, eyelids too heavy to hold up anymore as the pleasure begins rushing up her toes.

“What a shame.” He says, smirking like she can see him.

Pounding into her a bit harder, she reaches back to grip his thigh, cursing up a storm as she wets up his lap.

Moving his other hand from her hip to her hair, he continues on, making her stomach knot back up.

“Ohmygo–fuck, fuckkk,”

“Cummin’, again?”

“Yes!”

“Wet that shit up,” he commands, smacking her ass again.

She'd lost count of how many times he made her cum, barely able to formulate a coherent thought at this point.

He had a point to prove and was past the point of driving it home. This was torture.

“C-can't take it!”

“Why not?”

“T-tooo much!”

“Too deep?” He taunts, dipping into her shallowly.

She whines at the difference, pushing back on him.

“Nooo!”

“Mhm, come on,” he moves her to straddle him, spreading his arms out on the back of the sofa, while she roams her hands up and down his massive chest.

He let her do her thing as she rocks her hips, sliding up and down with ease, due to how wet he had her.

She watched as his head fell back, his favorite curse word falling from his lips like a chant every time she came down, squeezing him on the way back up.

“Fuuuuck, sweet ass pussy…”

“You missed it, daddy?”

“Mmf,” his heavy hand comes down on her ass, “more than anything, baby.”

Turning her up, she begins bouncing, smirking at his tightening grip on her ass. The squelch of her juices echoes off the wall, along with his grunts.

Next thing she knew, she was holding onto his broad shoulders as he fucked her while standing up, rutting her up and down on his dick.

Her head lolls about like it's independent from her neck, her nails dig into his back as he rocks her absolute world.

“Fuck! Can't st-stop cumming!”

“Good,” he grunts, “don't you fucking stop,”

Their skin slaps roughly as he lifts her with ease, splitting her so deep and delicious, making her holler like she lacks all sense.

Her thighs are tightly wrapped around him, ankles loose and twisting at the intense pleasure rushing through her veins.

Her screams and howls of pleasure gradually fade into hoarseness, as he carts her off to his bed, where she's laid on her back, gagging as he fucks her face.

Heavy hands braced on her throat, he stares down at her teary eyes and winks.

“Can't forget that sweet mouth,” he groans, squeezing his knuckles against her skin.

She purrs back at him, slinking her hand between her legs, rubbing at her soaked slit.

“Look atcha,” he chuckles, smacking her ass, “rub that pussy while I bust all in this throat.”

Her fingers found a sinful rhythm, while he rutted away, digging his free hand into the sheets as he released.

“Mmmmm,” she moans at his taste, stroking him with her free hand, her tongue still swirling around his sensitive tip as her fingers slip through her slimy folds.

“Fuck, baby… shit,” he jerks, smacking her hand away as he steps back, shaking his head at her.

She flips over on her stomach, staring up at him. Still hungry for more.

"Definitely ain't done with that ass," he says with a laugh.

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