#I just can’t come back here it’s still the bad place

[hwallazia]

WARDROBE MALFUNCTIONS – 최산

⋆ synopsis. you help san in a very special way with his outfit before he gets on stage.

pairing. idol bf! san & hairstylist fem! reader.

wc. 3,1k

warnings. soft dom! san & sub! reader, cussing, semi-public sex (they fuck in a men’s restroom tehee), unprotected sex (boo 👎), creampie, cowgirl position, implied handjob & blowjob (didn’t write that part explicitly), quickie?, begging, male masturbation, accidental erection, sannie is unable to cum with just his fist so he asks reader for help <3, dirty talk, praise, pet names (sannie, princess, jagi & more), in conclusion they’re DESPERATE.

nic’s notes ⋆ the wip has been posted 🙇‍♀️ four san fics in a row tho... YES SIR !! 🗣️ dw i’ll post a hongjoong one shot soon <3

the ambience was calm, the ac provided the room with cool air, the murmurs were a bit lower than usual so it was at the ideal volume and the members were naturally getting ready to go on stage, the screams of the excited and frenetic fans that non patiently waited in the stadium bleachers belied the calm atmosphere in the room.

as you were taking care of mingi’s hair and making it your job to make it look spectacular, you saw your boyfriend’s figure on the mirror. his reflection showed a bothered san, struggling with the zip of his shiny white pants. you redirected your eyes to mingi’s scalp, spraying small bits of glitter onto it.

“all done, princess” you chanted, meeting the man’s satisfied grin in the mirror; a smile unconsciously taking place on your face.

“it’s princess indeed.” he double checked his just-styled hair before rising from the chair, rotating his body towards you; back facing the mirror. “you seriously are an artist”

“wouldn’t be working in here if i didn’t have that title” you teased a little bit, stealing a charming laugh. you continued chatting with him for a couple more minutes, looking over his shoulder from time to time to see the cute pout formed on san’s pink lips. he let out a soft huff and made his way out of the room, your iris following his every movement.

“excuse me, mingi-ah. gotta finish up the work.” you explained before hearing an overshadowed humming of their song called “work”. chuckling, you tracked your boyfriend’s course.

you walked past a closed door, but you stepped backward when you noticed its threshold beaming a clear light. you hit your knuckles against the wooden door in a funny musical rhythm before hearing and seeing the handle of it twist open, revealing san’s figure; his makeup half messed up.

his annoyed features beamed up when he saw you, a hint of relief in his orbs. ”baby! so glad you’re here. come on.” he grabbed your hand not too gently but still without hurting you and pulled you to him, closing the door behind you quickly without giving it much of a thought that you were a woman inside a men’s restroom.

“s-sannie! what happened?” you analyzed his face for a moment, noticing smuddered powder of eyeshadow along the sides of his eyelids and his foundation slightly botched.

“uhm. kinda feels like this outfit doesn’t fit in the right places, if you know what i mean.” he spoke sheepishly, his muscly thighs uncomfortably restrained against the tight fabric of the pearly white pants.

your hands reached the sides of his pants. you tugged the piece of clothing twice with enough force to feel how snug it was.

you gasped lowly. “how did this happen?”

he sighed, rising and lowering his shoulders in surrender. “i don’t know how they keep messing up my measurements.”

you couldn’t help but ask the stupid question that had struck your thoughts the moment you saw him. “how did you even manage to get yourself inside those pants?”

he whined, sulking. “i don’t knowww, just get these off me.”

a soft blush heated your cheeks. “love, you gotta be on stage in less than thirty minutes, we can’t do—”

“not what i meant, filthy girl.” he deadpanned, the red on your face deepening. “not a bad idea though.”

a rush of embarrassment made your skin hot. you landed a sharp, yet light smack on the side of his shoulders. the emitted sound exaggerated how harshly you had hit him. “choi san! focus!”

“you’re the one who gave the idea!” he defended himself, arms closing around his chest.

you sighed before humming lowly, submerged in thought, your brain already trying to scheme a solution as san dedicated himself to pout cutely, huffing softly, clearly annoyed at the uncomfortable, leg-numbing fabric.

a click sounded inside your head. “i’ll go find and see if there’s another pair of those. if not, then i’ll get you something similar. just wait here.” you uttered as you stretched your opened palm in front of you.

he nodded. “okay, go,”

you gave him a little smile before vanishing from the tiny restroom. after hearing the door clicking shut, you sprung towards the dressing room, where wooyoung and seonghwa were conversing trivialities. yunho noticed you and your fast heartbeat the moment you spawned at the door.

his eyebrow quirked up for a bit. “what’s up? why were you running just now?”

you exhaled in an exasperated sigh. “i need to find inseol”

inseol was your friend and also the head of the dressing department, she designed and planned every single one of ateez’s stunning and mind-blowing outfits. “haven’t seen her.” yunho simply responded.

“me neither.” the two other men replied in unison, the low curse you huffed going unheard by them.

“why though? we’re all dressed up already.” wooyoung questioned.

“sannie’s having a problem with his pants. they’re way too tiny and therefore, tight.”

the thought alone of san dancing his soul out on that stage with senseless, numb feet makes your head spin in the worst way. you had to help your boyfriend somehow, and inseol not being in sight was complicating things.

“are you serious?” hongjoong stepped into the room, and you felt your blood run cold.

if there was something kim hongjoong hated, it was unforeseen events.

you managed to compose yourself the best you could. “yes but i’m already taking care of it!”

your words did almost nothing to calm hongjoong’s growing boiling stress. you closed your eyes for a tiny second, already accepting your fate and mentally preparing for hongjoong’s temper tantrum, but seonghwa’s wise and soothing voice intervened. “hongjoong, she said she’s already taking care of it. so let her do what she gotta do, we’re all under the same circumstances and pressure.”

hongjoong heaved a sharp sigh, frown relaxing, limbs letting go of the way-too-quickly accumulated tension. “you’re right. sorry, go ahead.”

you smiled sweetly in an attempt to reassure hongjoong. “it’s okay. i’ll figure this out — no need to worry.” you said as you eased your way out the door, but not before mouthing a genuine ‘thank you’ to seonghwa, who only nodded politely as he gave you a tiny grin.

as you walked towards the room where your sannie was, your mind anxiously scrambled for a quick solution, but with so many limited options, your stress only grew bigger. you mumbled under your breath some possible resolutions, yet nothing ingenious came to mind.

it wasn’t until you passed by this chair, overloaded with a black and seemingly heavy and full backpack with pieces of clothing on top. your eyes flickered toward the overused chair and you instantly started roaming through the mountain of fabric, wishing for a similar pair of white pants to come into sight.

in the distance, you could hear the voices of your coworkers murmuring about how much time was left until the concert started. 20 minutes was all you had.

then, a miracle happened. the low percentage of chances of you finding the exact cloth you needed elevated drastically to one hundred the moment the almost identical pearly white pants covered your opened palm.

you almost squealed when you found it, but you had to remain collected and professional. instead, you cleared your throat and headed towards the men’s restroom with hurried steps, where your poor sannie awaited for your savior-like presence.

you twisted the door handle once you were face to face with the men’s restroom symbol, opening and closing the door behind you quickly.

you expected him to be fighting against the tightness of his pants, huffing and groaning, full of stress.

“jagi,”

you definitely weren’t expecting him to be half naked on the floor, with a throbbing cock in hand as he panted breathlessly, the snug fabric of the pants still rubbing against his covered balls. his makeup was already fucked up because of the blanket of glistening sweat his face was covered in. his half-lidded eyes and shiny lips only invited you to sink into sin with him.

but you couldn’t. not when he had a stage to be on, a performance to give.

your eyes stayed widely open like plates as you blurted out. “sannie, what are you—”

“i tried getting out of these but it just kept rubbing against my dick every time i tried to move.” he blabbered, soft sobs hitching his breath. “i really didn’t mean it but ‘m so hard, jagi. i don’t know what to do and it just doesn’t go down.”

your mouth dried as you intently stared at his velvety tip, enveloped with his big hand, fully covered in precum, pulsating and aching under his fingers.

oh, your poor sannie.

so endlessly helpless and sensitive.

“help me, please.” he begged, his voice cracking, yet so fucking cute.

and of course you’d lend him a helping hand.

you cooed at him as you approached him, the slow steps of your low heels clicking against the wooden floor.

“oh, baby. so sensitive as always,” you caressed the side of his messed-up hair. you internally sighed since you had to redo your hard work.

but that thought faded in a blur, ’cause now you had more important things to do.

and that thing was sat obediently in front of you, waiting for your magical touch to send him into another dimension in less than ten minutes.

’cause that was all you had to get the deed done.

“‘m sorry, love, but—” he gulped before pleading. “can you suck it? please.”

naturally, your sweetheart of a boyfriend hardly ever lets you suck his cock, since he prefers pleasing you first, prioritizing your release before his.

desperate times call for desperate measures, though. so of course you knew he wouldn’t be asking you this if he had another alternative, another solution that didn’t mean resorting to such a filthy act, in such a short time, and in such a place.

“of course baby.”

five minutes.

only five minutes had passed until he was practically begging you to let him fuck you.

”please, jagi, it’s the only way it comes down” he used as an excuse. it was valid, though, the clenching walls of your pussy were the ultimate method to soften up san’s girthy length.

after a brief moment of considering it, your hand movement came to a stop, his reddened cockhead slapping against his uncovered abs, a sticky line of pre-cum dirtying his happy trail.

“we’re going that far, huh?” you teased, kissing his jaw as you positioned yourself on top of him. he tried to whine out an excuse, a reason why he wanted to fuck you with only a few minutes before his show, but you shushed him quickly, grabbing his girth by the base and aligning it towards your welcoming entrance. “we gotta be quick, though.”

he exhaled, taking in the view that unraveled in front of him. “i know.”

after giving him a warm smile, you sank down slowly, your body instinctively leaning slightly forward, your palms laying flat on his firm chest, using as the perfect support. you took him inch by inch, until your pussy lips grazed his balls. a satisfied sigh left your mouth, san’s head immediately rocking back as he grunted deeply, your warming insides always felt so heavenly divine.

the way you clamped down him forced him to lock gazes with you again, his low hiss cutting through the air. then, he realized that you weren’t actually moving, so he breathed in to ask, but you were faster, replying to his untold question. “fuck me, then.” you leaned closer, your faces just a few inches apart. “take what you need, sannie.”

san stared up at you with an intoxicated, loving gaze, a silent “thank you” dripping from his sparkling eyes. his hands landed on your hips, holding you steady before lifting them up, a few inches of him withdrawing from the cozy embrace of your cunt. whilst he held your body up, you purposely squeezed his cocktip and san cursed under his breath. he started with a slow pace, driving his hardness up against your pussy, filling you all the way up.

you arched your back when his tip stroked that divine spot in you, eyes almost rolling back to your skull. “s—sannie, oh my fuck!” you kept moaning and panting breathlessly on top of him, completely powerless.

he dove his head into your breasts, nuzzling his mouth in the middle of them. your bouncing tits rubbed against his cheeks with every jump, san’s blood rushing towards his face. his half-lidded eyes and curled-up feet were the only evidence needed to prove that he was actually enjoying this.

“oh princess.” he exhaled endearingly, utterly in love with your bouncing figure. “i love how you feel.” he uttered as he massaged your sides, ramming his cock to your convulsing pussy, repeatedly hitting your g-spot. “that’s the spot, isn’t it?”

his voice penetrated deeply inside your eardrums, your trembling core almost failing to keep its balance as you came closer and closer to the edge. “y-yeah, ‘m so close, so fucking close—ugh!”

your moans grew louder with each thrust, your hands holding onto his arms as they squeezed the heart muscle of his biceps. saying that you were a mess was an understatement, your white shirt had been discarded a while ago, a trail of sweat falling in between your breasts like rain; skirt hiked up to your marked hips. your mouth hung open in satisfaction, the sensation of being filled to the brim tipped you a bit.

“fuck— how much have we got left?” san groaned, hissing breathlessly.

“i—“ you stuttered as you raised your wrist up, staring at the clock that decorated it so elegantly.

5 minutes.

“we got five minutes, san. you gotta hurry.” you exhaled, looking desperate for your boyfriend’s release. he was the one who needed to be on that stage in less than ten minutes, after all. so you prioritized him thoughtfully.

”fuck, princess — you have to come.” his fingers reached down your sensitive clit and started rubbing circles on it. you squirmed on top of him as he kept thrusting his cock up your velvety walls.

you would’ve protested, claiming that it was actually him who had to come, if he hadn’t stimulated your bundle of nerves. your core twitched nonstop as your back arched beautifully. a string of incoherent pleas and san’s name spurted out of your mouth thoughtlessly.

in a warning manner, you clenched around him once or twice before coming undone all over his hardened dick, your body surrendered and crumbled down, your cheek colliding with his shoulder as you panted nonsense.

“that’s it, just like that, princess. you did so good.” he praised before grunting lowly. “so fucking good f’me.” he hammered your hips down his pelvic bone as he kept pistoning his hardness against your overstimulated, convulsing pussy. “gonna come inside you, fill you up reaaal good—yeah, y’ want it?” he growled, grasping your ass cheeks, definitely leaving his signature mark.

you blabbered a weak “yes”, too blissed out to even formulate coherent sentences. “‘course you want it, my dirty little princess.” san squeezed his eyes shut and moaned when he felt your walls clamp down on him for the nth time, this time bringing him closer to the abyss of pleasure though. “ugh— ‘m coming, ‘m coming, baby—“ he announced in a low, gravelly groan as he emptied his heavy load deep inside, filling you with his cum to the bone; eyes dilated.

he slowed his pace down before sitting completely still, your cunt still welcoming the white shoots of cum that his cock spurted out helplessly. you encircled his neck with your weakened arms for a moment, almost forgetting about the fact that your boyfriend had a concert to give. your body jolted as the reminder hit your head. “fuck, baby — you need to go now.”

and seemed like your boyfriend had forgotten about that little detail as well. “shit, you’re right.” he uttered before sliding his arms under your thighs and back, lifting you off him and placing you on the floor again as he rose up.

his head shook incessantly, searching for the whole reason why you were there. the word “pants” left his lips quietly, like a mantra. you stared up at him and helped him, pointing where the pair of pants was at. “behind that chair, sannie.”

he turned his head abruptly to where you had pointed at, the problematic pair of white pants coming in sight. he sighed before grabbing them and putting them on at the speed of light. you got up weakly and walked your way towards him.

san looked at you and immediately rushed to help you. “baby, stay still, you can barely walk.”

you locked gazes and you replied. “and just sit down on the floor of the men’s restroom?”

you quirked your eyebrow up and san shrugged a bit. “‘m just trying to help.” he sulked cutely and it made your heart swell with love.

you giggled as your fingers reached up to his messy hair. “i know you are, sannie, ‘m just kidding.” your fingers coiled around a lock of hair, curling it up. “now let me help you.” you repeated the action with the rest, finally perfecting his hairstyle with nothing more than your skillful fingers. meanwhile, san adjusted his pants and moved his legs around, doing silly movements to test the elasticity of the fabric, humming in approval when he felt nothing but comfortable.

you stepped back, taking in your work of art, nodding and sighing proudly. “perfect” you uttered.

”thank you, princess.” he leaned closer to peck your lips before his fingers brushed the door handle. “i’ll get going.”

”go kill that stage, pretty boy.” you encouraged, pride dripping off your tone.

san puffed his cheeks cutely, his eyes turning into pretty crescent moons. “yes, ma’am.”

and with that, he disappeared through the door, carefully clicking it shut. when the door closed, you crumbled down, shaky knees keeping your core shuddering. you stared down at your dripping pussy, gushing and coating the floor with san’s heavy cum. a strong blush heated your cheeks as you took in the view.

after a few minutes, the shakiness ceased and you were able to get up and clean the mess you and san had left on the tiles of the black marble floor. in the background, you could hear the sudden shouting of thousands of atinys combined with the faint sound of their song “halazia” reverberating throughout the whole arena, a sweet smile forming on your lips.

you remembered hongjoong’s angry demeanor when he overheard that san was having a problem with his outfit. so, you muttered under your breath, imaginatively responding to him. “told ya i’d take care of it.”

| masterlist

[ohgodthevoices]

going crazy over how husband material osamu is, hear me ouuutttt

tags : fluff, time-skip, f!reader, tattoo , he listens to, he cares , and he cook , i’m thirsting m sorry

osamu would be the type of bestfriend that knows damn well you want him bad but keeps on teasing you and acting clueless just to see how far you can go before you crack

as childhood friends, it was normal for you to be touchy and generally comfortable with each other but it raised his suspicions when you now looked away when he was topless around you. it’s not like you were uncomfortable with it ?

you’ve basically lived your whole life with the miyas, you’ve seen osamu wet the bed as a kid, get rejected by his middle school crush you’ve even witnessed him putting his hand in his pants and scratch his butt, seeing him topless in the comfort of his apartment was a casual thing so why the hell would you look away , did he lose his shape ? no, he still worked out frequently even if he’s not an athlete anymore…

either way osamu always took care for you, he was always so careful when it comes to you , sure he’d playfully hit you here and there but it was nothing you couldn’t handle

just imagine him cooking you a nice heart-warming meal, glancing at you every now and then while you’re sitting on the counter looking like a mess after a long exhausting day , wine glass in hand and rambling your worries away. it really became a ritual for you to swing by his place unannounced after a bad day.

he’d open the door with his signature lazy smile “ya had a bad day?” you finally let you shoulders relax “long story..” he steps back, inviting you in “i got time”.

sometimes osamu gets this weird feeling he can’t explain when he realizes he’s seen you grow into a real woman, it really freaked him tf out when you told him you had your first time with some boy he never heard the name of.

he scolds you after a bad decision for sure , but he’s always there to comfort you right after. SO imagine his surprise when during a drunken confession after you finally listened to him and dumped your toxic bf, you admit to him between sobs that broke his heart into pieces

“why can’t i find a guy that actually likes me—?” your face was buried in his now wet tshirt , his strong arms holding you tight as if they were gonna protect you from feeling hurt, your words were muffled, melting together “why can’t i find someone like you samu…im so jealous of the girl that’s gonna be yours” holy fucking shit how was he so blind to never realize this…

thank god that night was complete blurry in your mind , so when you woke up the day completely hung over and found your beloved best friend making you breakfast with a bed hair and his sleeves rolled up showing off his forearms that you find really hot for some reason , your slight blush was explained.

omfg the day he showed up to your workplace during his break with a well crafted lunch box he made full of delicious onigiris because he listens and he remembers that your annoying coworker kept flaunting her relationship to you and it pissed you off and you wanted to show her that you can pull too

ever since he realized the power he had over you, he wouldn’t stop just picking at you and seeing how far he can go, he was basically testing the waters by stretching until his shirt lifts up, hold eye contact for a lil longer than what he should, and how he praises you don’t get me startedddd

“yer actually pretty decent at this” when you cook dinner with him, “look at ya bein all confident and independent !” when you actually tell the waiter they got your order wrong, “yer pretty distractin’ yk that? that’s kinda dangerous.”

osamu was a pretty touchy guy, not overly cuddly or anything but he did enjoy proximity, he’d usually hold your wrist when passing crowds but for some reason he now held your waist, his touch gentle yet firm on you. istg his hand placement is impeccable

there’s just something about him keeping a hair tie on his wrist for you that’s so endearing, so caring and attentive to your lil daily struggles.

it all happened when you got your first tattoo, he had sent you to his friend whom he deemed good enough to ink your body. he was nervous and excited as if he was the one getting tattooed but that’s mostly because you wanted to keep it a mystery, he knew that when he came home after closing the shop he’d find you there already.

there was just something so intimate about him coming back from work and finding you already at his place , he liked it, he could get use to it.

“ ‘m here !” he yelled out closing the door behind him , analyzing you from head to toe as you pop infront of him with his tshirt and shorts on displaying an almost mischievous smile, his eyebrows creasing as he doesn’t see any trace of a tattoo on your arms or legs, maybe it was on your shoulders?

he plopped down on his couch , man spreading “soo… are ya gonna show me or ?” you happily turn to the side, his eyes widen as you lift up the shirt enough to reveal a sideboob tattoo. he sits up the shock visible on his face “holy shit cmere” you obey him , getting closer for him to get a better look. with a swift motion his arm was now around your hip , pushing you to sit on one of his legs

he clearly recognized his friend’s intricate style, the design cupping the side of your boob, he wanted to admire his work but damn he felt a lil jealous that he worked so close to you. he finally looked at you only now noticing your reddish face

his face was just inches from yours, his previously shocked expression fading as he met your eyes. he leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your jaw, and for a split second, everything around you felt quiet, just the two of you in that small space. he couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, though, breaking the tension as he nudged you lightly

“didn’t know you had it in ya to do somethin’ like that” he whispered.

before you could answer, his hand found its way to the back of your neck, gently pulling you in. his lips brushed yours, just a soft, teasing touch, before pulling back slightly with that same smirk. “couldn’t resist,” he muttered under his breath, and this time, when he kissed you again, it was longer, deeper—no more teasing, just the feeling of the moment taking over.

i’m currently such a sucker for time skip osamu he’s all i’m thinking about

[dulcescorderitas]

the bar’s packed, bodies pressed together, heat rolling off them like a furnace, beer sloshing in plastic cups, cheers and groans bouncing off the walls. the game’s on every screen, a tidal wave of green and red jerseys, but you don’t give a shit about football. neither does sam, not really. he’s here for dean, who's already three whiskey shots deep, yelling at the tv like his life depends on it.

you’re here for sam.

he's leaning against the wall, beer in hand, his eyes flicking from the screen to you, more interested in the way your lips wrap around the rim of your drink than whatever the hell’s happening on the field. there’s something simmering in his stare, something slow-burning and wicked, and when the eagles score, the whole bar erupts, but all you hear is his voice low in your ear.

“if the eagles win,” he murmurs, his lips just brushing your skin, “i’m fucking you so hard your legs don’t work tomorrow.”

your breath hitches, the weight of his promise making your fingers tighten around your glass. but you don’t back down, tilting your head to whisper back, “if the chiefs win, you’re eating me out until i forget my own name.”

his hand flexes at his side. tension coils tight between you, and it’s unbearable, the game, the people, the noise—it all fades because suddenly it’s just him and you, and the need pooling low in your belly.

you don’t wait for the final score.

the bathroom is dimly lit, the walls vibrating with the energy outside. you barely get the door locked before sam’s on you, his hands greedy, rough, palms dragging up your thighs, over your hips, pushing you against the cool tile. his breath is hot, his mouth demanding, swallowing your gasp as he lifts you like you weigh nothing, setting you on the sink.

“fuck, you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this,” he growls, his hands slipping beneath your shirt, fingertips branding heat into your skin.

you do. because you’ve wanted it just as bad.

your fingers tangle in his hair, dragging him down, mouths clashing, messy and desperate. his beard scrapes against your jaw as he kisses you hard, like he’s trying to consume you, like he can’t get close enough. and when his hands move lower, when he tugs at your jeans, you help him, kicking them off, the cool air a sharp contrast to the heat between your legs.

his fingers slip beneath your underwear, dragging through your slick, teasing, before he groans, “fuck, you’re already so wet for me.”

“sam,” you whimper, hips rolling into his touch.

he doesn’t make you wait. not tonight.

he frees himself with one hand, stroking once before lining up, his eyes locked on yours as he thrusts in, slow, deep, stretching you inch by inch until he’s seated fully, a broken moan spilling from your lips.

“jesus,” he breathes, forehead dropping against yours.

his hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he starts to move, each thrust deliberate, driving pleasure through you like a pulse. the bar noise is distant now, muffled, drowned out by your soft cries, the wet slap of skin on skin, the sharp hiss of his breath.

he fucks you like he promised—like he’s trying to ruin you, each roll of his hips hitting that spot that has you clawing at his back, desperate for more. and when you tighten around him, close, so fucking close, he growls against your throat, “come for me, baby. come all over my cock.”

you do, gasping his name, shattering around him, and he follows with a deep, guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt as he spills inside you.

outside, the bar erupts into cheers.

sam’s still breathing heavy, forehead resting against yours as he huffs a laugh. “guess we missed who won.”

you smirk, fingers tracing his jaw. “we both won.”

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze @cherrygirlfriend @figthoughts @deanssun @ambiguous-avery

[i-dared-myself]

The Bet

Seungmin x reader x Bang Chan

In which Seungmin has something to prove and no respect

18+ This is the filthiest thing I’ve ever written (Yet, heheh. I have something else sitting in my drafts) so BE WARNED. This contains some mxm so if you’re not comfortable you’re more than welcome to move on

“Weird,” you mutter to yourself as you walk through your front door. Usually you are the last one home, but it seems like the apartment is empty tonight.

“Hello?” you call as you kick your shoes off. “Seungmin? Chan?”

When no response comes, you text them quickly. You’re slightly worried, but it’s not completely unheard of for their jobs to keep them late.

You grab a set of pans and put them on the stove, bringing out ingredients for dinner too. It isn’t your night to cook, but being helpful never hurts.

Your phone dings from where you left it on the counter. You check it to see that Seungmin messaged saying he and Chan are almost home.

You open a bottle of wine, just needing something to relax with. As you pour a glass the door slams open.

“Seungmin?” Your eyebrows knit together in concern as your boyfriend storms right up to you. His fingers curl through your hair and he bends you over the kitchen counter, cheek squishing against the cold marble. “What are you-“

“Shh,” he coos gently. Seungmin presses up against you, body heavy against yours. “I’ll fuck you so good that you can’t walk straight for days after. How does that sound?”

You grope at the counter in shock, hands clenching and unclenching. “Seungmin? What are you- Where’s Chan?”

“Right here, baby,” Chan says as he shuts the door. It clicks behind him before he wanders closer. “Need something? My cock, maybe?”

“What are you both doing?” you demand. “Seungmin! Chan! Explain yourselves!”

“Seungmin and I made a little bet,” Chan tells you as he rolls up his sleeves, exposing the skin of his forearms. “He thinks he can be a better dom than me.”

“And how do I come into this?” You squirm back against Seungmin. “I don’t see how it’s my problem.”

“We’re gonna test it on you.” Seungmin rolls his hips into you experimentally. “So who do you want to fuck you first? Me, or whiny Chan? He’s so tired today I don’t think he’ll even be able to get it up…”

“Watch it!” Chan snaps. “I’ll bend you over my lap, bet or no bet.”

Seungmin snorts and drags you over to the couch. “Who will it be, baby? Me, or old man Bang?”

Chan huffs. “Second strike, Seungmin. There’s still respect that needs to be upheld.”

“You first.” You lean up to kiss Seungmin, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. He eagerly returns the affection, pressing against you. 

You scoot further down the couch so there’s more room for him. Seungmin takes his place between your legs, throwing a pillow away.

“By the time I’m done with you, it’ll be past the old man’s bedtime.” Seungmin’s eyes glint mischievously as he slips a hand down your pants. His index finger finds your clit and circles it once, then twice before he adds, “I’ll fuck you again for him.”

Chan suddenly grips Seungmin’s hair and rips him away from you. The other man lets out a short cry as he’s tossed to the other side of the couch.

“Chan!” you protest as you reach for Seungmin. “He was about to fuck me!”

“Not anymore.” Chan grins at you, all dimples and joy before he turns to Seungmin, and it fades away. Now he’s angry and sexy, and you want him so bad.

You huff and scoot up further against the arm of the couch. “Well I was promised sex, and I don’t care who does it, as long as someone gives it to me.”

Chan laughs as he fists Seungmin’s hair, dragging him off the couch. He forces his head down to the floor until Seungmin’s cheek is smushed.

“Really?” Chan looks down at him with an eyebrow raised. His eyes glint darkly. “That’s the best you can arch your back?”

Seungmin struggles to lift his head, eventually just spitting out, “Fuck you.”

“Ah, so he’s in one of those moods.” Chan glances over his shoulder at you. “I bet he didn’t even want to dom you. He just wanted to fight me a little bit.”

You nod in agreement, sprawling out on the furniture. “Probably. He always likes his punishments. More so than rewards.”

Chan smiles at you softly, his hand still clasped tightly around Seungmin’s wrists. “Can you go bring me the cuffs, baby? Then I’ll give you what you want.”

You nod and rush off to the drawer that they’re kept in. You pass them to Chan and watch as Seungmin’s hands are restrained behind his back.

“There you go.” Chan pats Seungmin’s cheek condescendingly. “Now you can’t touch yourself either.”

Seungmin pushes himself up to a sitting position, glowering at Chan. His gaze flicks to you before back to him. “Come on! All I did was tease a little!”

Chan hooks his arms under Seungmin’s armpits and drags him to the corner, chuckling when Seungmin tries to bite him. “It’s the lack of respect, Seungmin. If I’m going to let you fuck her-“

“She’s my girlfriend too!” Seungmin protests.

“There have to be rules,” Chan finishes. “Such as respecting me, and no talking back. Now, I’m going to fuck her, and then if you’re lucky and I’m in a good mood, I’ll let you have her.”

Seungmin rolls his eyes defiantly. “You just wanted to go first before it was your bedtime, didn’t you? You could’ve just said, old man.”

Chan smiles and laces his hand together. “Is that right? You really think so?”

Seungmin hums in confirmation. “Yeah. I know that you can’t fuck her good enough.”

Chan’s expression is still light-hearted, which is what scares you the most. He has a lot of patience, but when it’s worn out he snaps hard.

“I’ve changed my mind on what’s happening tonight,” Chan declares. He looks back at you pleasantly. “Undress.”

You cross your arms. “Do I have a say in this?”

Chan turns his gaze to you. “Do you not want us?”

You shift. “Okay fine, I do.”

“Then undress while I take care of him.” Chan points his chin to Seungmin. “We can’t just leave him there to watch. Might as well give him something to struggle with.”

Seungmin’s eyes widen a bit and you can see his throat flex as he swallows. You’re not worried. He knows his signals for if it’s too much and needs to stop.

You hear a bottle cap being uncapped, but don’t pay it much mind. You strip out of your pants and shirt, quickly discarding of your undergarments.

When you turn around, Seungmin is propped up naked over the arm of the couch, Chan behind him. Seungmin’s mouth is parted and you can see his hands trying to grab at something.

You peek around his body to see Chan’s fingers working him open. You reach down to run your fingers through Seungmin’s hair soothingly.

“Is it good?” you ask him. You bend down to kiss his open mouth, smiling when he kisses you back. “Feel full, baby?”

Seungmin tries to respond, but Chan adds another digit and he cuts himself off with a whine. You laugh lightly and peer down at what Chan’s doing.

“Can you do me a favour, baby?” Chan looks up at you through his lashes. “Can you shut him up, please? This isn’t supposed to make him feel good, just to get him ready.”

“Sure.” You plunge two of your fingers into Seungmin’s mouth until they make him gag. 

Chan chuckles. “That just made him clench on me.” He kisses Seungmin’s shoulder. “Did you like that?”

Seungmin nods as best as he can. Drool is pooling in the corners of his mouth around your fingers.

You give an experimental thrust of your fingers between his lips. Seungmin gurgles but lets a moan out. You debate adding a third finger but decide against it, not wanting to push him too hard today.

Chan pulls his hand away and presses a plug into Seungmin. “There you go, baby.”

You remove your fingers and wipe the spit off of them onto Seungmin’s face. “Is it my turn yet?”

“Yes.” Chan flashes you an expression of fond exasperation. He wrenches Seungmin off the armrest and back to the floor. “Give me a second.”

You sigh impatiently and roll your eyes. “I swear it’s been like two hours since I was promised sex. If I don’t get someone’s dick soon I’m leaving.”

“It’s not too late to come over here.” Seungmin’s cheeks are flushed pink along with the tips of his ears. His cock is hard and you know Chan’s going to make him wait a while for any form of release.

“Come here,” Chan calls from the couch. “I’ll let you ride me.”

You hurry over to him, ignoring Seungmin’s indignant cry. You don’t want to end up in the same position as him.

Maybe you do a little, but you also just want something now.

“Aren’t you going to take your clothes off?” you complain once you’re standing in front of Chan.

He tilts your chin up so he can kiss you. “Patience.”

As Chan shuffles out of his clothes, you watch Seungmin. He’s squirming, trying to get friction on his dick. He’s facing you, and you wish you could see the plug spreading him open.

“Baby.” Chan brings your knuckles to his lips and places a soft kiss to them. “Ignore him. If he wanted attention he should’ve respected me.”

You force your gaze away and back to Chan. He’s nude now, and you eagerly straddle his lap.

“Wait,” Chan laughs, “you need prep first.”

“No I don’t,” you protest, “I’m wet. I’m dripping. Please!”

His hands go to your hips and pull you down so you’re straddling his thighs. “Baby, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“What? And I’m fine to hurt?” Seungmin scoffs. “I still have bruises on my ass from when I called you a bitch!”

“I give you plenty of warnings,” Chan gently reminds him. “And you’re not supposed to be talking right now.”

“Please.” You bring Chan’s attention back to you. “Just hurry up already!”

Chan sighs. “Fine. But I’ll stop if you need me to.”

Then he’s guiding his cock to your cunt and very slowly entering you. You throw your head back at the stretch and the feeling of fullness. 

He stops, keeping you in place like that. You glare down at him, unamused.

“Why?” you demand. “I’ve been kept waiting forever!”

“Just relax.” Chan strokes your hair. “We didn’t prep you and I want to make sure you’re okay.”

You grumble, but place your head in the crook of his neck. His chest rumbles with a barely contained laugh when your eyes flutter as he shifts.

“Okay,” you eventually murmur, “I’m ready.”

“Let me know if we need to stop.” Chan adjusts how he’s sitting so you’re have more room to move. A groan rips itself from his throat at your first bounce.

You can feel Seungmin’s eyes on you as you ride Chan. Chan’s hand tighten on your waist, but he lets you control the movements.

One of his hands drops to toy with your clit. The lazy circles it draws makes you squeeze around him, causing him to shudder.

“You close yet?” Chan asks. “Close to cumming around my cock?”

You bite your lip. “Maybe. Just need-“

He rolls his hips upwards to meet you when you sink down on him. Your orgasm washes over you and you let out muffled sounds against Chan’s torso, burying your face against him.

“That’s it,” Chan croons. “So good, not letting Seungmin see your pretty face as you cum.”

You flutter around him at his words, blinking your eyes open to see his face. His eyebrows are pulled together as he continues to thrust into you.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” Chan promises lowly. His eyes are cloudy with lust, focused on your expressions. “Come on, do it again. I know you can.”

His fingers are still working at your clit, sending sparks to reignite the fire at your core. You mouth at his collarbone, preventing any of your moans to reach Seungmin’s ears. 

Then you’re somehow falling over the edge again, so close to your first. Chan pulls out and leaves you to clench around nothing, making you mourn the fullness that just had.

“Seungmin,” Chan calls softly, “why don’t you come over here?”

You notice Chan hadn’t filled you, still hard. You’re confused for a moment before Chan’s manhandling you and your mind goes blank.

You’re dragged to the floor as Seungmin shuffles closer on his knees. Seungmin looks to Chan expectantly, finally behaving.

Chan reaches out to cup Seungmin’s cheek. “You finally get to fuck her now. If you make her cum, you’ll get your release. But if you cum first…” Chan glances to you. “What do you think, baby?”

You swallow thickly as your thighs are forced apart by Chan’s hands. “No sex for a month?”

Chan nods before facing Seungmin again. “You hear that?”

“Yes. I understand.” Seungmin blinks. “I’ve got this.”

“Good.” Chan, seemingly satisfied, lifts Seungmin and lays him atop you. Seungmin’s hands are still restrained behind his back and the plug is still in him. “Go ahead.”

“I- I can’t-“ Seungmin’s hips shift as he tries to find your entrance. He lifts his head to look down at your eyes, cheeks flushed.

“You can’t what?” Chan looms over the two of you. 

“I-“ Seungmin squeezes his eyes shut. “I can’t find her pussy.”

Chan coos. “Oh, is that right? Need my help?”

Seungmin nods, his naked body pressing against yours harder as he tries again to press into you.

“Use your words.” Chan rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek. 

“Please?” Seungmin begs. “I just- I need- Please!”

“Shh.” Chan’s hands go to Seungmin’s hips and align him with your cunt. “It’s okay.”

Seungmin whines as he enters you. His eyes rolls back as he finally gets stimulation. 

“Are you going to fuck her or not?” Chan settles on the couch, raising an eyebrow. “This is what you wanted, right? Don’t tell me you can’t make her feel good.”

Seungmin’s hips make a desperate thrust into you, but it’s not as smooth as Chan’s. He’s making whiny little sounds as he stutters through the movements.

Your hands go up to his hair, tugging hard. “Seungmin! Do it properly!”

“I’m trying,” he whines, hiding his face against your throat. “I- I’m trying!”

You try to buck your hips up, but his body weight prevents you from doing so. You’re trapped and at his mercy, and he can barely maneuver his body with his hands restrained.

“I don’t think she’s even close,” Chan taunts. He sounds as if he’s taking great joy in this. “Is that all you’re good for? Humping her until you cum?”

Seungmin blinks back frustrated tears. “N-No! I-“ He moans as your walls flutter around him, effectively silencing him.

“Make her cum.” Chan slides off the couch and kneels next to the two of you. “You can do that, can’t you? You made such a fuss about how you were a better dom than me after all.”

Seungmin makes eye contact with you again, mouth falling open. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to get enough leverage to properly thrust into you. When he opens his eyes, tears bubble out of them.

Chan taps the plug in Seungmin, causing the man to jerk. “Would it help if I fucked you? Would my momentum fuck you into her? Or would it just make you cum immediately?”

“No. I can do this,” Seungmin slurs as Chan tugs at the plug until it’s at his rim, stretching him at to the max. “I- Just let me-“

You have enough and reach down to your clit. “I can’t believe I have to do it myself.”

“Did you hear that?” Chan places his hands on Seungmin’s hips. “I fucked her better.”

Seungmin and you both let out cries as Chan guides Seungmin into you. With your own hand at your clit, and actually having a rhythm with Seungmin’s cock, you can feel yourself getting close.

Seungmin’s hands are clawing for anything to grab at as Chan moves his hips for him. Chan takes pity on him and undoes the cuffs, and Seungmin immediately wraps his arms around you.

You arch up to kiss Seungmin, swallowing his whines. He eagerly returns the affection and allows you to slip your tongue in his mouth.

Then you’re having your third orgasm, moaning. Seungmin is wrenched away from you, his eyes glazed over as his dick spurts onto your pussy.

You shiver at the missing warmth as his body is maneuvered away from you. He’s bent over the couch, clutching at anything he can as the plug is eased from him. He lets out another pathetic whimper as it pops free.

Chan kisses his forehead, cleaning him up fondly. You’re given similar treatment before being tucked in next to Seungmin, watching as Chan goes off to grab some water.

“Doing okay?” you ask Seungmin, running a hand through his hair.

He hums sleepily, eyes fluttering shut. “Yeah. Sorry I couldn’t…”

“It’s okay. I had fun,” you assure him. Chan returns and hands you both glasses of water. “Did you not…?”

Chan clears his throat, looking away. “I did when you two were messing around.”

“Ah.” You nod and sip at your drink. “Well next time you make one of those bets, I want in. I think I could do pretty good.”

Taglist (Open):

@velvetmoonlght @jinnie-ret @hansmic @imeverycliche

[myerssimp21]

Iceberg's Jewel pt. 1

This is just another idea rattling around in my head! While this is still yandere Batfam, the premise is slightly different—here, they haven’t quite met you yet. The focus starts with Oswald Cobblepot and the Iceberg Lounge, but trust me, the Batfamily won’t be far behind. Timeline-wise, this would technically come first, even though in my other yandere Batfam fics, Tim and Jason have already had their moments with you. So yes, there will be a plot hole later where they’ve somehow already hooked up with you—just roll with it. Consider it canon-ish, but mostly just me playing around with ideas. tl;dr: This is a prequel of sorts to my other yandere Batfam fics, but I’m mostly here to have fun with the concept. Hope you enjoy! 💙 word count: 3201

Oswald Cobblepot prided himself on running a tight ship. The Iceberg Lounge was a beacon of opulence in Gotham, catering to a clientele that wanted their danger with a side of champagne. When he put out that little “Help Wanted” sign as a joke—an amusing way to signal to the people he was looking for that he was ready to onboard—he hadn’t expected someone like you to waltz in.

You were nervous but bright-eyed, clutching a copy of your résumé (how quaint) in one hand, wearing a Gotham University sweater that screamed student loans and part-time hustle. The smile you gave him when he walked into the lounge floor was disarming—too genuine for this city. You asked to speak to someone about the janitorial position, and Os had to bite back a laugh.

“A janitor? Here? Sweetheart, you might be too good for this place,” he muttered under his breath, too quietly for you to hear, before waving a hand dismissively at one of his goons. “Send her to my office.”

His office wasn’t where interviews were usually held—far too personal, far too… revealing. But for some reason, he wanted to gauge you himself. Maybe it was your naivete; maybe it was the way your gaze lingered on the crystal chandeliers and plush carpets like you’d never seen luxury this close before. You were looking at him as a normal boss, not a criminal mastermind, and he realized he might like that.

By the time you’d been seated in the chair across from his polished mahogany desk for only 15 minutes, he was already hooked. He asked simple questions at first—your availability, your experience—but quickly veered into territory that let him know more about you. Your classes at Gotham U were interesting, but you worked too much to fully appreciate them. You loved your psychology major but struggled with scheduling, hoping that the pay here was more than the measly pay you scrounged from your other two jobs. He listened with great interest as you spoke of your genuine excitement to be working in a "classy place like this."

He didn’t have the heart to tell you this place wasn’t really classy—just good at pretending.

Cobblepot tilted his head, the curiosity in his expression sharpening as he tapped a finger against the arm of his chair. “You’re not from here, are you?” he asked, a sly grin forming. “So, what do you think of our little city?”

“Oh, uh…” You laughed nervously, shifting in your seat. “It’s… something, that’s for sure. Gotham’s kinda like… I don’t know, a scrappy mutt? It bites, like, a lot, but you can’t help but wanna pet it anyway. It’s scrappy and loveable.”

Oswald chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “Lovable?” he repeated, shaking his head. “You’re a strange one. Most people run for the hills when it comes to Gotham.”

“Yeah, well…” You shrugged, the faintest smile tugging at your lips. “I’m already here, so I might as well figure it out, y’know? Plus, it’s not all bad. I mean, the people are tough, and the city’s got… personality. A weird, messed-up personality, but still.”

He found himself appreciating your honesty. It was a rare thing in his world—people who weren’t either trying to butter him up or wring him dry. And that smile… Hm. Something about it didn’t belong here.

Then, the door to his office slammed open. A goon stumbled in without so much as a knock, huffing like a dog chasing its own tail as he fumbled a thick stack of papers in his hands.

Oswald snapped to attention so fast it was animalistic. One second, he was relaxed, bemused by you—the next, his face contorted with fury, his lips curling back in a snarl that made the dim office feel suddenly suffocating.

“What?” Cobblepot snarled, his tone cutting like ice. The very air in the room seemed to turn electric, humming with the promise of violence.

The goon froze mid-step, eyes darting between you and his boss. He looked like he’d just walked into an execution chamber by mistake.

Oswald’s teeth clenched so tight a vein throbbed visibly in his temple. “You knock before coming into my office,” he seethed, voice dropping to something far more dangerous than the initial explosion. Cold. Calculating. A blade slipping between ribs. “You wait. You don’t—”

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw you.

Frozen.

Wide-eyed.

And just like that, the change was immediate.

His snarl vanished. The storm passed in an instant, like flicking off a switch. The barely-contained rabid rage that had been twisting his face smoothed into something almost… embarrassed. Guiltily casual.

Cobblepot glanced back at you, then at the goon, then back at you. For a brief, telling second, he looked—not regretful, but calculating. Then he sighed through his nose, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off an unpleasant thought.

"Handle it later," he ordered, voice abruptly warm. Silk-soft. As if he hadn’t just been inches from taking a man’s head off. His hand flicked lazily toward the door, a dismissive gesture. “Can’t you see I’m with someone?”

The goon scuttled out of the room like a kicked dog, the papers in his hands rustling violently as he clutched them to his chest.

The moment the door shut, Oswald let out a measured breath, as if centering himself. Then, in a whiplash-inducing shift, he turned back to you with an awkward, almost sheepish smile.

"Sorry about that,” he said, voice dripping with artificial sweetness, as if his outburst had never happened. He waved a hand, dismissing it entirely, his gaze keenly watching your expression for any lasting tension. “Some of my employees just don’t have any manners.”

You offered a polite, thin smile, still shaken, but brushed it off with a shrug. You had already figured this place wasn’t exactly warm and welcoming, but the speed at which his fury had vanished was... unsettling.

Oswald noticed.

He noticed everything.

And for the first time in a long, long while… he wasn’t sure if he liked the way your smile still had a hint of nerves clinging to it.

The Batcave was unusually quiet, save for the faint tapping of Tim’s keyboard and the low hum of the monitors. Bruce sat at the console, watching the live feed from Oswald Cobblepot’s office. You were seated across from the Penguin, a mixture of nerves and polite excitement etched on your face. The Iceberg Lounge’s chandelier lights reflected in your wide eyes as you gestured animatedly, your Gotham University sweater and résumé betraying your earnestness in a city that thrived on deception.

“Can’t decide if she’s brave or just clueless,” Tim remarked, leaning back slightly as he toggled between camera feeds. “She walked into Cobblepot’s lair with a résumé. A résumé, Bruce.”

“She’s a student trying to make ends meet. That’s not bravery—it’s necessity.”

Damian’s voice crackled through the comms. “She really responded to a ‘help wanted’ ad? Tt. Typical. Of course that bloated bird would choose a naive one. She’ll probably end up scrubbing vomit out of his VIP lounge carpets.”

Tim tutted thoughtfully at Damian’s comment. “I mean…..he’s probably aiming higher than janitorial work for her. Did you hear the way he sweetened his voice?”

Damian scoffed but didn't reply. 

A new voice broke in over the comms—Dick, speaking from his position on patrol. “You think she knows what she’s getting into? Working there isn’t exactly safe.”

“She doesn’t,” Bruce answered simply, “But that doesn’t make her unique. Plenty of people stumble into Gotham’s underworld without realizing it. We can’t save everyone.”

Tim muttered, “Still doesn’t mean we should ignore it. If Penguin’s targeting her for something, we’ll want to know why.”

Damian chimed in again, his tone slightly mocking. “We already know why, Drake. He likes his toys naïve, optimistic, and disposable. She won’t last a week before she gets a reality check—or worse.”

Bruce’s eyes flicked toward the feed as Cobblepot stood, offering you a hand and gesturing toward the door. “They’re moving,” Bruce said. “Tim, keep the office feed rolling, and find another camera angle.” 

“We won’t have audio and depending on where he’s taking her, I’m not sure we’ll have visuals either.”

There was a moment of silence, the kind that spoke volumes in the Batcave.

Dick broke it. “She’s smart enough to know what Cobblepot is, right? I mean, who walks into the Iceberg Lounge thinking it’s just a nightclub?”

“People who don’t know Gotham,” Tim replied, scrolling through files, soaking in what he can on you. “..She’s a psych major at Gotham U, full-time. She’s been juggling two jobs already, so she’s probably just desperate for the paycheck.”

Damian’s tone turned sharper. “Desperation or not, she’s still a fool. You don’t wear a sweater with your university’s name on it when you waltz into the lion’s den.”

Tim smirked. “Guess she didn’t take Gotham’s prerequisite: Street Smarts 101.”

The screen now displayed the empty office, Cobblepot’s desk abandoned. You were out of their sight, and for the moment, out of their reach. But the Batfamily wasn’t about to let you disappear into the darkness of Gotham without a trace. Tim was scrambling to find a feed that would give them info as to where Cobblepot’s taking you, but at the very least, they have relevant info on you.

Dick’s voice again. “Did you hear her in that interview? ‘Lovable but scrappy.’” He smiled faintly at the words. “She actually likes Gotham. We should keep it that way.”

Tim again, confirming some details. “Transferred to Gotham U from out of state. No criminal record, no red flags.”

Damian’s voice cut in, sharp and dry. “Other than walking into the Iceberg Lounge with a résumé. That’s a red flag for stupidity.”

Dick countered, his tone softer now. “She doesn’t know any better. Give her a break.”

Jason laughed, his voice snarky over the comms line from his own patrol. “Oh, sure, Grayson. Let’s all gather around and shield her from the big bad city. What’s next, care packages?”

Dick sighed audibly, “Don’t you have a crime boss to scare right now?”

Jason chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Already done. You should’ve seen the look on his face. Priceless.” Another faint noise came through, likely the reloading of a gun.

Bruce’s voice cut through before Dick could respond. “Enough. Focus, Jason.”

“Whatever you say, B,” Jason replied breezily, though the teasing lilt was still in his voice. “I’ll keep an eye out, too, just in case our scrappy little friend stirs up any trouble at the Iceberg.”

Damian snorted. “I’ll enjoy seeing Cobblepot’s face when she quits.”

Bruce didn’t respond right away. His eyes lingered on your face, captured mid-smile on the monitor. Quietly, he murmured, “She’ll need another job. A safe one. I’m sure Wayne Enterprises will have something available for her.”

“Keep me updated,” Batman ordered as he stood, his cape swishing as he headed toward the Batmobile. “If she gets in over her head, we’re pulling her out. No debates.”

Damian’s voice came back, quieter this time, reluctant. “She’s already in over her head.”

Little did they know, Oswald Cobblepot’s schemes for you were the furthest thing from exploitative labor. In his mind, the idea of you actually toiling away with a mop and bucket was quickly becoming unthinkable—borderline offensive, even.

The moment he saw the way your eyes sparkled with hope and determination, and saw the way you'd listed your good grades on your resume in a hopeful attempt at impressing him and proving your aptitudes, he’d decided he’d let you sleep on the job if you wanted to. Hell, he’d set up a whole suite in the back of the Lounge if it kept you close and content. You could waste time dusting the empty liquor shelves or filing nonexistent paperwork all day if it made you feel productive. What mattered to him wasn’t what you did—it was that you were here, where he could keep an eye on you.

But of course, Cobblepot wouldn't admit that to himself. Not yet, at least. No, this was just “good business,” he rationalized. You were a valuable asset—your charm and friendliness were enough to lighten up even the Iceberg’s darkest corners. You had a way of making the whole place feel... welcoming and warm, like you were untouched by Gotham’s grime and crime. Plus you wanted to be productive. He scoffed under his breath, amused. Of course one of the first fresh faces ready to work at the Lounge was also someone who he didn’t dream of involving in his actual operations. Just his luck.

So, if you decided you needed an afternoon nap in the dusty janitorial closet? He’d send a goon to bring you a pillow. If you scoured the cleaning supply catalog for hours without actually ordering anything? He’d find it endearing. As long as you were happy and oblivious to the underworld swirling just beneath the Lounge’s polished surface, you could do whatever you wanted.

Unbeknownst to them all, while they debated your safety, Oswald was sitting back in his office, already plotting ways to make your life easier. Sure, he’d keep up the charade of being your boss for now—keep you busy with harmless tasks so you didn’t get suspicious. But he wasn’t about to let you work too hard. Not his sweet, naive new hire.

You didn’t belong in Gotham’s shadows. And as far as Oswald Cobblepot was concerned, he’d make sure you never had to find out just how dark they could get. Or at least, he’d try. 

By the time Oswald walked you to the janitorial closet—a tiny, forgotten room in the back of the lounge—he was already plotting how to keep you close. The closet was practically empty, a detail that normally wouldn’t bother him, but the way your face fell at the sight made him want to slap whoever was supposed to manage the damn place.

"Um… is this where I’m supposed to… work?" you asked softly, your voice unsure as you peeked into the empty closet. Your eyes darted around, taking in the barren shelves and dusty floor, as though you’d missed some hidden stash of supplies. "It just… doesn’t look ready yet?"

"Ah… this won’t do," he said quickly, covering his irritation with a smooth smile. "Looks like someone’s dropped the ball here. Don’t you worry about this, darlin’. I’ll get one of my guys on it—someone reliable. You’ll have everything you need to get started." 

His tone was honeyed, and though he aimed for casual reassurance, his sharp eyes flickered to the shelves like he wanted to set the whole closet ablaze for offending you. For fuck’s sake.

“No, no, this won’t do at all,” Oswald said again, shaking his head and clucking his tongue like he was personally offended by the state of the janitorial closet. “You deserve better than this mess, darlin’. I’ll have it sorted by tomorrow, you have my word.”

You blinked at him, “If you want me on the job today, I can make something work,” you offered tentatively, gesturing toward the dusty shelves. “I’ve been in worse spots before.” You gave him a sheepish smile, trying to seem accommodating.

Cobblepot scoffed softly, waving a dismissive hand. “No, no, absolutely not. I won’t have my new employee starting off in such... subpar conditions. It’s a poor reflection on me, and I can’t have that, now can I?” He straightened his tie with an air of exaggerated importance before leaning on his cane. “Here’s what we’ll do instead. You take the night to get familiar with the Lounge—on the house, of course. Have some drinks, relax, mingle a bit. Consider it my way of welcoming you to the team.”

You blinked again, even more confused. “Oh, um, that’s really generous, but shouldn’t I, like… fill out some paperwork first? Or sign something?”

Oswald chuckled, a warm, low sound that almost made you feel silly for asking. “Paperwork? We’ll handle all that boring nonsense tomorrow. No need to rush into the dull parts of the job, eh?” He gestured toward the door, ushering you back into the main lounge. “For tonight, enjoy yourself. Swing by the bar, meet some of the staff, maybe say hello to the security team. It’s important to me that you feel comfortable at the Iceberg.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if this was some sort of test, but his expression was disarmingly sincere. “Well… if you’re sure…”

“Positive,” he interrupted, clapping a hand on your shoulder with surprising gentleness. “Now, off you go. The night’s young, and the Lounge is at your disposal.”

As you stepped out of the closet and back into the opulent main floor, you glanced over your shoulder to see him watching you with a smile that seemed too genuine for someone of his reputation. You didn’t know him, but you’d heard some things. 

Unbeknownst to you, Cobblepot wasn’t just offering you free alcohol or a night to relax—he was staking his claim. He wanted you to feel at home, to see the Lounge as a safe haven, a place you’d always want to return to. Sure, there’d be paperwork eventually, but for now, the only thing that mattered was keeping you here, comfortable and unaware of the darker dealings hidden beneath the glamour.

Tim leaned back in his chair, toggling between the camera feeds inside the Iceberg Lounge. He was alone in the Batcave now, the others out on patrol in the city. “Well, there she is,” he muttered, zeroing in on his view of you at the bar. You were perched on a sleek barstool, your Gotham University sweater a stark contrast to the high-end fashion of the Lounge’s usual clientele. “She’s… drinking. A lot.”

Jason, freshly back from patrol—or what little of it he actually bothered to finish—sauntered into the Batcave, pulling off his helmet and setting it down with a thud. “That’s her?” he asked, nodding toward the screen.

“Yeah,” Tim replied without looking away. “You decided to show up?” His eyes flickered to the time down at the bottom of his monitor. "Thirty minutes early? B's not gonna be thrilled."

Jason ignored the jab, stepping closer to get a better look. “Huh,” he muttered, crossing his arms as his sharp eyes drank you in. You were laughing at something the bartender said, your cheeks flushed. You gestured animatedly with your glass while saying something they couldn't hear. “She doesn’t look like much.”

Tim raised an eyebrow, glancing up at Jason. “That’s what you cut patrol short for? To see her in person?”

Jason shrugged, his gaze fixed on you. “I was curious. Heard you and Damian going back and forth about her. Figured I’d check it out for myself.” His lips quirked into a faint smirk. “Didn’t expect her to be… this.”

Tim tilted his head. “This what?”

Jason gestured vaguely at the screen. “This… normal. Sweater, messy hair, drinking like she’s celebrating her midterms being over. Doesn’t scream ‘Iceberg Lounge material,’ y’know?”

Tim chuckled, toggling to another camera feed for a better angle. “That’s kind of the point. She thought she was interviewing for a janitorial position, Jason. Janitorial.”

Jason blinked, then snorted. “You’re kidding.”

“Wish I was,” Tim said, leaning back in his chair. “She walked in there with a résumé—an actual paper résumé—and asked about cleaning floors or whatever. Cobblepot probably laughed his ass off before offering her a drink.”

“He’s footing the bill by the way,” Tim added, toggling to a feed that showed the Penguin subtly watching you from across the room as he conversed with some guests. “She hasn’t reached for her wallet once. He’s just… letting her.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed as he studied the Penguin’s expression. There was no malice there yet, no obvious scheme in motion. Instead, Cobblepot looked almost… satisfied, like he was pleased with what he was seeing. “The hell’s his angle?” Jason muttered, his top lip curling in disgust at the possibilities.

“No idea,” Tim replied. “But if I had to guess? He’s trying to butter her up. Make her think the Lounge is a safe place, keep her happy and oblivious while he decides what to do with her.”

Jason scoffed, leaning back against the console.”She won’t last a week.”

Tim smirked. “You’re awfully invested for someone who just met her. Maybe you should prep a care package.”

“I didn’t meet her,” Jason shot back, though his eyes flicked back to the screen almost involuntarily. “I’m just saying, someone needs to give her a reality check before she gets eaten alive.”

“Maybe,” Tim said, watching as you swayed slightly to the music, chatting with another patron who’d joined you at the bar. “But she doesn’t look like she’s in danger. Yet.”

Jason grunted, pushing off the console and grabbing his helmet. “Yeah, well, I’m keeping an eye on this one. If Penguin tries anything, I’m ending it.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so now you’re helping? Didn’t you just skip the last half of your patrol?”

Jason smirked as he turned toward the exit. “Hey, monitoring Gotham’s underworld is part of the job, isn’t it? I’m just doing my part.”

Tim shook his head with a laugh as Jason disappeared up the stairs. “Sure you are.”

Back on the screen, you were oblivious to the scrutiny, to the way the curiosities of Gotham's vigilantes were beginning to blossom into something more.

[holylulusworld]

Not my Logan (1)

Summary: Problems with the Multiverse suck. Even more when it brings someone back who has been long gone.

Pairing: Worst Wolverine x Immortal!Reader, Deadpool x Reader (platonic or not. You know him.)

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of loss of loved ones, grief, cocky reader, Deadpool being a pain in the ass, violence, mentions of killings, multiverse chaos, world building

A/N: For my story, all X-Men died, except for the reader. She lives in the same universe as Deadpool from DP & Wolverine. I don’t follow canon. Live with it.

Square filled for the Wolverine bingo @buck-star created for me: Square 1: Claws

“WADE! Wade Wilson! Stop right there!” You growl, ready to shoot the bastard breaking into your property. Well, technically it’s not your property. Or it is. Charles left it to you in his will. Not because you were his favorite X-Men, but because you are the last one standing.

You huff before jumping out of the window. Wade would’ve loved to stop and admire your superhero landing, but he’s busy chasing after a very pissed Wolverine.

“Wolvie, stop! She won’t understand! Fuck. Shit. I said, Stop!” Wade takes off his mask. He wheezes because all he did all day was chase after the worst Wolverine. Logan’s words, not his. “HEY! I didn’t tell you about her for you to run off. We still have a job to do!”

“WADE WILSON!” You start to run, seeing Wade kneel on the ground. He still tries to catch his breath as you storm toward him. “I’d kill you but watching you grow legs and arms is disgusting!”

Instead of decapitating his head or stabbing Wade, you slap the back of his head.

“Ouch, Y/N.” He complains loudly. Wade got stabbed and shot; he lost body parts but whines like a baby when you slap him.

“What are you doing here? No one is allowed to come here any longer. You know that.” You sniff when he slowly gets up. “Not since…”

“I get it, I get it!” Wade raises his hands in surrender before turning around to face you. His face is a mess as always, but you can’t help but smile, seeing a familiar face. If you’re honest, he’s the only friend (if you want to call the cocky motherfucker a friend) you’ve got left. “Extinction is hard.”

“What did you say?” You slap him across the face, earning another whine. “You are an insensitive asshole.”

“Sweetheart, we both know you would have outlived all of them, no matter what. It just happened a little earlier this way.” Wade shrugs before putting his mask back on.

You run one hand down your face and huff. “What do you want, Wade? Is the world on fire, or did you lose a ball again?”

“No jokes about a man’s balls,” he points a gloved finger at you. “But yes, the world is ending once again. Or not. I mean… It depends.” Wade babbles as you put your hands on your hips.

“What did you do? I bet you messed with the timeline again, huh?” you snap at Wade. “Because that worked out so well last time. I told you to not fuck with timelines and shit. The dead shouldn’t come back.”

“Oh, about that,” Wade nervously chuckles. “I swear I didn’t resurrect anyone, but…uh…you see. Maybe, and I’m not saying it happened. But maybe I was hopping through different universes to find an anchor to save our universe from destruction.”

“Wade.” You close your eyes and inhale sharply. “Whom did you bring here, and do I have to kill them?”

“No, no! You cannot kill him,” Wade hastily says. “I came here for a short break. You see, bad guys are after our cute asses, and this is the safest place I know.”

“Christ on a cracker, WADE!” You kick his shin. “I’ve been out of this business for years.” You dip your head, hearing someone sneak closer. “Why would you bring anyone here? This is a lost place. Dead and forgotten. Just like me and the rest of the X-Men. Just like—”

Twirling around, you ready yourself to attack the person sneaking toward you and Wade.

Your body goes stiff, and you whimper, facing the man you lost so many years ago.

“No…” You step back and shake your head. “No…no. Wade. Out of all the people you could bring here…you do this to me?!”

“I swear, if I had a choice, I’d never do this to you. But—” Wade sighs and points at the worst Logan, he brought to your universe. “He wouldn’t believe me. Logan said you must be dead here too.”

You wrinkle your nose. “I cannot die. I am…immortal. My Wolverine would know that.”

The man, looking so much like your one true love, dips his head. He has the same body, the same eyes, and the same claws. Hell, he even wears the same fucking suit. But he’s not your Logan. He’ll never be your Logan.

“Go away. Both of you. Whatever will happen to this universe is not my problem. Maybe I can finally rest then too.”

You turn around to walk away, leaving Wade and Logan’s clone behind.

“Wait, Y/N!” Wade jogs after you. “I know you’re angry, but I couldn’t stop him. If there’s only a tiny piece of the undefeatable Y/N still inside of you, help us. Help me save my friends and this world.”

“Your friends,” you say, your heart heavy with sadness and grief. You glance at the photo Wade shows you, swallowing thickly.

“If there was a way to save your friends, you’d do anything, right?” Wade presses on. Even though he knows it’s a low blow, he cannot shelter you or your feelings. You’re his only chance to convince Logan to help him and get his clones off his back. “Please help me…”

“What the fuck is that?” You dip your head to look at the ugliest dog you have ever seen. “Uh—is that thing even alive?” Crouching down, you poke the dog’s nose with your index finger. “Who did this to you, little pug?”

“I think he was born this way?” Wade chuckles while picking the dog up. “And he’s not ugly. Dogpool is the sweetest.”

“Y/N. How?” Logan finally found his voice. He steps closer to you and Wade, not looking you in the eyes. “Why did you do it?!” He yells before jumping at you.

Logan tackles you to the ground to ram his claws into your sides. He growls like an animal, stabbing you again and again.

“What’s his problem?” You laugh as Logan tries to kill you. His claws dig deep into your flesh, but it doesn’t do much damage.

“Uh—from what I heard, you killed his people because he didn’t love you or shit?” Wade shrugs before letting the dog lick his face.

“YOU!” Logan growls. He slides his claws back in to slam his fists into the ground. Again, and again, and again. You can hear bones crack and flesh tear. “Why don’t you die?”

Logan looks at you, shaking his head. “You’re not her…”

“I assume in your world, I was mortal,” you sit up and push Logan away. While you slowly get up, he watches you with tears in his eyes. “In this world, my Logan would’ve cut your head off for touching me.”

“After we introduced ourselves, we should talk about the guys wanting to end this world. Come on, sweetheart. You know you want to help your Deadpool.”

“You’re annoying as fuck,” you huff while rubbing dirt off your ass. “If you keep that thing in line.” You jerk your head toward Logan kneeling on the ground. “We can talk.”

“She’s not her…” Logan repeats. “Not her…”

“You sound like a broken record,” you say and slap the back of Logan’s head. “And for the record, you’re not my Logan either…”

Tags in reblog.

[gdinthehouseee]

Lucky Star: KWON JI-YONG x READER

summary: you're a member of 2NE1 and it's finally time for you and your group to debut. thanks to a minor distraction, disaster almost struck moments before you're supposed to go on, but luckily ji-yong is there to save the day--and your career.

word count: 4782

tags: fluff, slightly steamy flirting at the end

ao3 link

Pre-performance chaos filled the shared dressing room: staff rushing in and out, adjusting outfits, reapplying makeup, and running through final checks. The other members of your group, 2NE1, were occupied. Chae-rin was discussing something with the stage manager, Minji was stretching in the corner of the room, while Bom and Sandara were warming up together on the couch.

And you?

You were staring at your reflection in the mirror, barely tuning into the noise around you. Your hands fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, your stomach flipping for reasons you didn’t quite understand. Well, objectively, it was understandable: the time has finally come for your group’s debut, but your mind was elsewhere. There must have been a deeper reason, right? Maybe it was excitement, maybe nerves. Or maybe—

"You’re gonna rip your outfit if you keep doing that."

A familiar voice snapped you out of your trance. You turned your head to see Ji-yong leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you with an amused smirk.

You immediately let go of the fabric and frowned. "I wasn’t—"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, maybe I was. But don’t you have BigBang things to do? Why are you here?" You huffed, your nerves jumping out through your vocal cords.

“Am I not allowed to support you?” 

You gave him a look. "To check on me or to annoy me?"

His grin widened. "Can’t it be both?"

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the mirror, but you could still feel his gaze on you as he walked in and sat down next to you. It was unnerving, but not in a bad way. More like a “why does he always get under your skin so easily” kind of way. It wasn’t just the way he teased you—it was the way he lingered, the way his presence wrapped around you like a thread you couldn’t quite pull loose. He had always been like this, effortlessly slipping past your defenses with a smirk and a well-placed comment.

And yet, beneath all the banter, there was something else. Something quieter.

You weren’t sure if it was in the way he watched you now, eyes flickering with something unreadable, or in the way he always seemed to notice the things no one else did. But whatever it was, it made your pulse stutter in a way that had nothing to do with nerves. And everything to do with him.

"You’re nervous," Ji-yong said after a moment, his tone light but knowing.

You scoffed. "I am not."

He tilted his head. "You only mess with your clothes when you’re overthinking something. I’ve seen you do it a hundred times."

That made you pause. "You… noticed that?"

He blinked, like he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He hadn’t planned on admitting how much he noticed—the little ways your nerves showed, the way you tried to hide them. But he saw it all. He always did.

And for some reason, it made something tighten in his chest. He didn’t like seeing you doubt yourself. Didn’t like the way your fingers curled around the fabric of your outfit like you were bracing for something to go wrong. He wanted to fix it. To say something that would make that crease in your brow disappear, to remind you that you had nothing to prove to anyone.

He quickly recovered, however, masking the thought with an easy smirk. "Of course. I am very observant."

"Or maybe you just enjoy making fun of me."

"That too," he admitted, grinning. "But seriously, why are you nervous?"

You hesitated before sighing. "I don’t know. It’s stupid."

Ji-yong leaned against the back of the couch, watching you expectantly. "Try me."

Again, you hesitated. You opted to pick up your mic and just play around with it. Carefully, of course. You couldn’t have it damaged moments before your performance. 

You certainly weren’t used to talking about this kind of thing—not with him, at least. Sure, you bantered all the time, but this felt different. More personal. You were used to messing around with him during practice—playful teasing, stealing each other’s snacks, making small talk about the latest trends or whatever ridiculous thing that had happened during rehearsals that day. It was easy, effortless. A comfortable rhythm you had both fallen into without thinking. But this? Talking about something real, something personal? That was different. That was terrifying. If you let your guard down, if you let him see even a fraction of the doubts swirling in your mind, how would he react? 

What if he saw more than that? What if he saw the way your heart stuttered whenever he looked at you a second too long? The way you hung onto his words more than you should? You had spent so much time hiding your feelings behind witty comebacks and casual conversations, and now, with the weight of his gaze on you, you weren’t sure if you could anymore.

After a moment, you exhaled. "I just… I want to be good enough. I don’t want to mess up."

Ji-yong was quiet for a beat before he spoke up. "You are good enough."

You glanced at him, caught off guard by how certain he sounded. "You say that like it’s a fact."

"It is a fact," he said easily. "If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be here."

Your chest tightened at his words—not because they made you more nervous, but because they somehow made you feel lighter. Like you weren’t carrying the weight of your doubts alone.

"You really think so?" You asked before you could stop yourself.

He met your gaze, his expression softening just slightly. "Yeah. I know so."

For a second, neither of you spoke. The noise of the room faded into the background, and you found yourself focusing only on the way he was looking in the mirror at you—not teasing, not smug. Just the real Ji-yong.

Then, without a word, he suddenly reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin bracelet. A simple black cord, with a single charm dangling from it.

You blinked. "What’s that?"

He held it out. "For you."

“Why?”

"Because it’s my lucky charm. And now I’m giving it to you."

Your brows furrowed as you placed the microphone back down onto the dressing table, turned your entire body towards him, and slowly reached out. The charm was small but detailed—a tiny star, slightly worn at the edges, like it had been touched a hundred times before. 

"You carry this around?" You asked, stil staring at the delicate jewelery.

"Yeah. Before every performance, I hold onto it. It kinda became a habit." He shrugged.

You looked back up at him. "But… why give it to me?"

Ji-yong’s smirk faded completely now, his smile softer and his eyes trained on you. "Because I think you need it more than I do right now."

Something warm spread through your chest, something that had nothing to do with simple nerves. You swallowed, looking down at the bracelet before he picked it up and slipped it onto your wrist.

"You better not be messing with me," you murmured. "Or I swear, I’ll—"

He chuckled. "Relax. No tricks. Just luck."

You ran your fingers over the charm, then glanced at him. "Thanks, Ji."

It was ridiculous how something so simple could affect him so much. He heard his name all the time—fans chanting it, members calling for him, staff addressing him formally. But when you said it, when you casually dropped the full syllables and just called him Ji—for the first time, at that—like it was the most natural thing in the world, his heart did this stupid little flutter in his chest. It was personal. Intimate, in a way he wasn’t sure you even realized. No one else had ever said it like you just did. And maybe it shouldn’t have mattered, but it did.

He smiled bashfully and scratched the back of his neck, stepping back. "Don’t get used to it."

Returning the smile, you laughed. "Too late."

Ji-yong opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Chae-rin called your name from across the room. “C’mon, girl. We’re on in five.”

It was only now you realised you were the only ones left in the room. Not an entirely great start. You turned to go, but just before you stepped away, you looked down at your wrist one more time. The charm glinted under the lights, and for the first time all day, your nerves didn’t feel so overwhelming.

Ji-yong watched as you walked off, hands in his pockets, a small, knowing smile on his lips.

Stepping out the room with Chae-rin, you were quickly escorted through the winding hallways of the backstage area by your managers. You felt like everything within you was racing; your thoughts and feelings, your blood, and not to mention your adrenaline. You took a deep breath as you stood with your group members and friends.

“Everything good to go?” You heard a manager ask your group, and you were about to confirm when you realised you were missing something. An uneasy feeling settled in your stomach as you realised you weren’t holding—

"My mic!" You gasped, eyes widening. "I left it in the dressing room!"

The staff around you tensed and the girls looked at you like you were a ghost. You felt the blood drain from your face. This was it—your career was going to be over before it even started.

But before the panic could fully set in, a familiar voice drawled, "Looking for this?"

You spun around. Ji-yong was standing there, casually twirling your microphone in his fingers, looking way too smug for someone who just saved your life. You were simply too stunned to speak. 

"You’re predictable," he teased. "I saw you put it down earlier and figured you’d forget it."

You grabbed the mic from his hands, your heart still racing. "You just knew I’d forget?!"

"What can I say? I pay attention."

There was something in the way he said it—something playful, yet sincere. For a moment, you forgot about the crowd waiting outside, the stage, the cameras. It was just Ji-yong, standing there with that cocky grin, acting like saving your entire debut was no big deal.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling warm. "Well… thank you."

He winked. "I got you."

The staff ushered you forward. As you stepped onto the stage, your nerves weren’t completely gone—but they weren’t overwhelming anymore either. And it was all thanks to your silly little crush.

The stage lights were blinding, the music pulsed through your body, and the crowd was electric. This was it—your debut performance. Your heart pounded, but the moment you struck your opening pose, adrenaline took over. The cheers were deafening, the energy infectious. You could barely take it all in when—

"YEAH! THERE’S OUR GIRLS!"

A seemingly louder voice—way too familiar—shouted from the crowd, making your stomach drop. You didn’t have to look to know who it was.

Sure enough, you spotted them. All the members of BigBang. Front and centre. Completely ignoring any attempt at blending in. Daesung was jumping up and down like an overenthusiastic fanboy, waving his arms wildly. Seung-hyun stood there, arms crossed with a proud smile. Taeyang was in full cheerleader mode, clapping and pointing at each of you as if you were his personal pride and joy. When did they get here?

But it was Ji-yong—always with the most subtle, but most intense gaze—who still caused your heart racing. His eyes were glued to the entire group, studying every move, like he was seeing each of you in a way no one else could.

You tried to shake off the nervous flutter that the thought brought, focusing back on the performance—but then—

"LOOK AT THEM GO!” Daesung shouted, pumping his fist in the air. You couldn’t help but laugh internally, knowing his tendency to be a little over the top.

Despite the fact that your heart was racing from the performance, you couldn’t ignore the warmth that spread through you at seeing the boys so clearly proud of you and the group. You knew they were supporting you all, but hearing their cheers loud and proud for the whole of 2NE1 made you feel unstoppable.

Minzy, who was just behind you on stage, leaned in close enough for you to hear her without the mic picking up her words. “They’re like our personal fan club.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, glancing to the side at her with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t know they could get any louder.”

Dara shot you a knowing smile from across the stage, barely whispering into her mic as she adjusted her position. “I think your little boyfriend is impressed.”

You froze for half a second, caught off guard by Dara’s words, but then you noticed Ji-yong’s gaze again. He was watching you with an intensity that made your stomach do flips, but there was no teasing or playful banter. His eyes were warm, proud, but… there was something else there. Something you couldn’t quite name.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you quickly muttered back.

“But you still knew who I meant.” She teased quietly.

“Whatever.”

Getting into position for your part of the song—the first part of your performance—you quickly glanced at the boys, all of which were enthusiastically waving their lightsticks, yet you couldn’t help but focus on Ji-yong once more. It looked almost like he was seeing you for the first time, his eyes were full of admiration—truly in awe of your performance so far. To you, his focus almost felt like you were performing just for him. There was a part of you that wished it was just you and him. 

That’s why you had to nail your parts, and you did. Not just for the group and yourself, but for him, too.

Afterwards, the van ride back to the dorm was a whirlwind of laughter and energy. You and the girls couldn’t stop talking over each other, each of you still reeling from the success of your debut performance. The night had been everything you’d hoped for and more—an incredible first step into your career. As the van pulled up to the dorm, you practically jumped out of your seat, eager to celebrate.

“We did it! We really did it!” Sandara was practically bouncing in her seat as you all stepped out, grinning from ear to ear. Minji followed suit, already doing a little victory dance as she skipped up the steps.

"I can't believe it!" Bom laughed, walking alongside you. "We’ve worked so hard for this moment. It feels unreal."

"I know! It feels like a dream," you replied, your heart still racing from the adrenaline. The thought of everything that had led up to this point made your chest swell with pride.

Inside, the dorm was cozy, a stark contrast to the bright stage lights and loud cheers. The atmosphere felt so much more relaxed, and everyone quickly scattered to grab drinks, snacks, and anything that would make this night even more memorable.

You wandered over to the kitchen, the warmth and excitement of the night settling in as you took a moment to let everything sink in. Chae-rin handed you a drink with a proud smile. "You were incredible tonight. Seriously, you looked like a star."

“Thank you, Chae-rin.” You returned the smile, your voice much quieter than before. As the leader of the group, she immediately picked up on the change in your behaviour. She knew you a little too well for your liking. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just…”

Momentarily, you looked down at the floor. 

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to put it into words. You weren’t exactly sure why you’d been feeling off, but there was something about the night that made everything feel a little heavier. Between the performance, the teasing from the girls, and the subtle tension you couldn’t deny with Ji-yong, it felt like your emotions were tangled up in a way that was hard to unpack.

“I don’t know,” you said finally. “It’s just... everything happened so fast tonight, you know? I think I’m still processing it all. We worked so hard to get here, and now that we’ve done it, it’s like—what’s next?”

“I get it,” she said quietly. “It’s a big step. Sometimes, when you reach a goal, you don’t always know how to feel about it. Especially when it feels like it came all at once.”

You took a sip of your drink. “And it’s weird... because I thought I’d feel proud. And I do, but there’s also this... pressure. Like, we just debuted, and now we’re expected to keep getting better. To keep doing more.”

Her eyes softened, taking a step closer to you. “You don’t have to have it all figured out right now,” she said, her voice steady and full of conviction. “It’s okay to feel a little lost. We’re all in this together. And I know you. You’ve always been determined, but you also care deeply about making every step count. You’ll find your way. Don’t let the pressure take away from the moment we’ve earned.”

You looked at her, surprised by how much those words grounded you. Chae-rin wasn’t one to sugarcoat things, but when she spoke, it always felt like she understood exactly what you were going through. You hadn’t expected this level of comfort from her, but in that moment, it meant everything.

“I don’t want to let the pressure get to me,” you admitted, lowering your glass. “But sometimes I feel like I’m supposed to be... perfect. You know? Like, we all have our roles to play, and I don’t want to mess it up.”

She gave you a small, knowing smile. “We’re all figuring it out. And trust me, you’re not alone in that feeling. You think I haven’t had moments where I felt like I wasn’t doing enough? Or that I was missing something important? We all get caught up in the idea that we have to have it all figured out, but that’s not the reality of it.” She paused for a moment, letting her words settle. “The important thing is that you’re doing it. We’re all doing it. You’ve come this far for a reason, and it’s not because you’re trying to be perfect. It’s because you have something real to offer. Don’t let anyone—including yourself—convince you otherwise.”

You felt a small weight lift off your shoulders, hearing her say it out loud. Sometimes, the doubt and fear could be overwhelming, but hearing those words from Chae-rin made everything feel just a little more manageable.

“Thanks,” you said softly, your voice a little shaky. “I needed to hear that. I think I’ve just been holding everything in, trying to be ‘on’ all the time.”

Chae-rin’s expression softened, and she placed a hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to do it alone. You’ve got the girls, and you’ve got me. Don’t forget that. We’re not just teammates—we’re a family. And we’ve got your back.”

The sincerity in her voice hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you could feel the tears threatening to surface. But you quickly blinked them away, grateful for her words and for the quiet strength she always seemed to radiate.

“You’ve also got the boys. I mean, you saw them out there, right? Our number one fans.” Both of you couldn’t help but to laugh at the thought of the way they were screaming their support from the crowd.

“Thanks,” you whispered again, this time a little more sure of yourself. “I think I just needed to hear that I’m not expected to be perfect. I’m not even sure where I got that idea from.”

“Everyone gets caught in that mindset sometimes,” she said, offering a small chuckle. “Just don’t let it control you.”

You both stood there for a moment, the noise from the living room growing fainter as the conversation between you and Chae-rin deepened. In that moment, you realized that despite all the pressure and uncertainty that came with debuting, you weren’t alone. You had your team, your family—your sisters—and they’d be there every step of the way.

With a final squeeze on your shoulder, Chae-rin gave you a wink. “Now, come on. Let’s get back out there before the others think we’ve abandoned them.”

You chuckled, feeling lighter than you had in hours. “I think I need some time to myself, my social battery is drained. But, seriously, thank you.”

“Of course.” She nodded with a small but genuine smile. “Anytime.”

“I’ll be on the roof if you need me,” you clarified, in case somebody really did need to reach you.

The cool night air felt refreshing against your skin as you stood on the roof, away from the noise and chaos below. The city lights flickered in the distance, casting long shadows across the rooftops, but in this moment, everything felt still. You let out a quiet breath, your mind replaying the night’s performance, the teasing, the congratulations, and the deep conversation with Chae-rin. It was all so surreal—everything you had worked for, everything you had dreamed of. Yet, even now, as you stood here, alone with your thoughts, you couldn’t shake the pressure that had settled in your chest. There was a sense of responsibility that weighed heavy on you. You couldn’t afford to let down the people who had supported you—your team, your family, the fans. But for the first time tonight, you let yourself feel proud of what you’d accomplished, even if it was just a small victory in the grand scheme of things. You had made it this far. You had earned this moment. Maybe that was enough, for now.

A quiet peace settled over you as you stood there, your thoughts drifting away from the bustling celebration downstairs. It felt nice to have a moment of calm, even if it was just for a little while. But then you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps, and before you could turn around, a voice cut through the stillness.

“You know, you shouldn’t be out here by yourself. The night’s still young.”

You turned, startled to find Ji-yong standing just a few feet away, leaning casually against the railing with a small grin on his face.

“Ji,” you said, blinking in surprise. “I didn’t even know you were in the building. Did you guys stop by to celebrate after the performance?”

“Yeah, we came by,” he replied with a shrug, stepping closer. “But we thought you and the girls might want some time to yourselves. I didn’t want to interrupt. But, now that I’m here... looks like you could use some company.”

“And here I was, thinking you were too cool for group celebrations.”

His eyes twinkled with mischief. “Who do you think I am? I’m here to celebrate you, of course,” he said with a wink. “You and that lucky bracelet. How could I not?”

You chuckled, crossing your arms as you leaned against the railing, mimicking his casual stance. “You’ve really taken the whole ‘lucky charm’ thing and run with it, haven’t you?”

He grinned, his confidence palpable. “Why wouldn’t I? I picked the perfect accessory, didn’t I? I’m just saying... maybe it’s more than just luck.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you quickly masked it with a teasing tone. “What are you trying to say?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, your voice light but curious.

He took a small step closer, his voice lowering just a bit, his gaze flicking briefly to the bracelet on your wrist. “I’m saying... maybe you’re the one who’s lucky.”

You glanced up at him, your heart hammering in your chest. His words were teasing, but there was an underlying seriousness to them now, a tension that was building between the two of you.

“Is that so?”

He took another step forward, and now, he was standing much closer than you expected. You could feel the heat of his body, the space between you two practically nonexistent. “I think so,” he said softly, his voice low, sending a shiver down your spine. “But I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

Before you could respond, Ji-yong was even closer, his body nearly pressed against yours as he leaned in. His hands moved to the railing behind you, caging you in, his arms locking you in place as you felt your breath catch in your throat. He was now leaning over you, his presence overwhelming and intoxicating.

Your heart raced in your chest, and your breath hitched as you tried to steady yourself. “Ji, you—” you started, but your voice faltered as you looked up at him. His eyes were dark with something you couldn’t quite place.

“I don’t bite,” he teased softly, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Unless you want me to.”

You swallowed hard, unable to keep the smile off your face as you met his gaze. There was a mixture of playfulness and something else in his eyes, something deeper, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“And what if I do want you to?”

“Well, then I guess you’ll have to let me know.”

You shivered, your pulse quickening at the closeness of him. “I think you’re already too close,” you teased, trying to pull back, but the railing behind you kept you trapped in place.

“Maybe,” he said, his voice full of quiet amusement, but his hands on the railing tightened, keeping you right where you were. “But I’m not going anywhere. Not until you admit you’re at least a little curious about what comes next.”

The boldness of his words hung in the air, and despite your teasing, your heart was hammering, and the air between you two felt thick with unspoken words. You licked your lips, feeling the pressure of the moment, unable to pull away and unable to deny the electricity running through you.

“Curious, huh?” you murmured, your voice a little breathless now, and you gave him a sly smile. “Maybe you’ve got me slightly curious.”

He leaned in a fraction closer, his lips just brushing against your temple as he whispered, “That’s all I need to know.”

"Ji..." you whispered, your voice trembling just the slightest, barely audible in the stillness. His name felt so natural on your lips, but now it was more than just his name—it was a plea, an invitation.

His eyes softened, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something vulnerable in his gaze. But then, he leaned in, slowly, almost as if giving you the space to back away, to stop him. But you didn’t move. You didn’t want to.

Ji-yong’s lips hovered just inches from yours, and you could feel the electricity between you two intensifying, crackling in the air. His breath mingled with yours as he spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper, “I’ve wanted this for a while now...”

And then, without warning, he closed the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours softly at first. The contact sent a shock of warmth through your entire body, and you instinctively leaned into him, your hands reaching up to wrap around the back of his neck. His hand found its way to your waist, pulling you slightly closer, and his lips deepened the kiss just enough to send your pulse soaring.

For a moment, everything faded. The crowd downstairs, the loud celebration, the teasing banter—none of it mattered. It was just the two of you, locked in this kiss, and everything else felt like it didn’t exist.

Ji-yong’s lips moved against yours with a gentleness that was almost unexpected, but there was still a hunger, a desire, beneath it all. His hand moved to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in the softest motion. You responded in kind, your hands finding their way to his chest, fingers grazing the fabric of his shirt as you tried to pull him even closer, if that was even possible.

When he finally pulled away, just enough for both of you to catch your breath, his forehead rested gently against yours. His eyes were still closed, his chest rising and falling in time with yours.

“Ji-yong?”

“Yeah?” He opened his eyes again, his own breath hitching in his throat as he took in your beauty once more. “What is it, jagiya?” 

“Kiss me.”

taglist: @thanosscrossmain @maskedcrawford @mirahyun @riddlerloveb0t @onyxmango @sherrayyyyy

[kitkat13001]

୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ modern!eren jaeger x reader

⤷ college au, athlete!eren, sick reader, brief mentions of vomit (vague, nondescriptive)

barring actual death, this week has been probably the worst of your life. 

you don’t think there’s anything more you could’ve done to prevent yourself from getting sick, but here you are, immobilized in bed like a dying victorian orphan. there’s only one upside to being this sick, and that’s when your boyfriend gets to wait on you hand and foot, coddling you until you feel even a little better. but eren isn’t here with you, he’s miles upon miles away for a big tournament.

distance hasn’t lessened his concern for you, apparent in the way he’s been calling you at least twice a day since you told him you were feeling under the weather. 

“no, babe, i’m like so sick right now,” you complain, congestion evident in your voice. 

“for real?”

“yeah, it’s so bad. and it’s not like a common cold or anything either, eren, this is the flu.”

“that bad?”

“i puked three times yesterday.”

you can practically hear his wince through the phone. “yikes.”

“yeah, so that’s me,” you sigh, “barfing and coughing and feverish. how are you holding up? having fun?”

“yeah, it’s been okay. we’re keeping our streak. i’m calling from the bus right now, actually.”

“oh, fun! tell the team hi for me.”

he hums his assent, but quickly turns the conversation back to you. “you want me to bring you anything back?”

“just your handsome self, preferably injury-free. miss you lots.”

“i’ll be back before you know it,” he promises. there’s some rustling on the line. 

“you just getting there?” you ask, sniffling into a tissue. 

“mhm. just gimme a second, baby.”

you hum patiently, eyes fluttering closed while you wait. 

“goddamn!” you jump when the door swings open, revealing eren standing in the doorway. his bags are in his arms and he’s still on the line, phone tucked between his shoulder and ear.  “you were right, babe, this place looks like shit. dishes on the nightstand and everything.”

he smiles and hangs up the phone while you lie in shock, scrambling to sit up and compose yourself. 

“when did you come in?!” you cry, “i didn’t even hear the door, my ears are so stuffed from my sinus plug-up. i thought you were on the bus to nationals!”

“i said i was on the bus, not on the bus to nationals,” eren corrects, grinning. “armin told me you were sick so i flew down to come take care of you.”

“but you’ll miss the big game!”

he waves a hand dismissively, blowing a raspberry. “it’s not for three days. plenty of time for me to hang out with you until you’re better. i’ll fly out the day before the game, directly to the city.”

“but what if you catch my virus?” you whine, pushing him away weakly. 

he smirks at your pitiful attempts. “i googled it. you’re not really contagious after the fifth day, so i’m aaaaallll yours~”

“erennn, you can’t risk it before your big game. what if—“

“shush, don’t worry so much. i’ll be careful, okay? lysol everything you touch.”

“everything? twice? you better promise.”

he holds his hand up in a mocking oath. “i swear. i’ll be mike wazowski spraying himself in the eyeball in monsters inc.”

you give a weak giggle and immediately wince at the pain in your throat. 

eren makes himself comfortable at your bedside, holding up a steaming container. “y’want soup? picked it up on my way back.”

you stare at him through watery eyes. “let’s get married. deadass.”

he laughs, fishing out a plastic spoon from his bag. “maybe when you’re not bedridden with the flu. ‘kay, now say ‘ahhh’.”

wrote this last year when i had the most godawful flu known to man and finished it this year when i got sick 3 times in the span of a month n a half :)

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@waynes-multiverse

This was so wonderful and a beautiful valentine treat!! You and @luci-in-trenchcoats and @zepskies are all out here inspiring me with these headcanon fics. 💗 Also I may have hyper-fixated and wrote a lot 😅, but these were all just so glorious ❤️

Dean

I really loved that for Dean you made it a thing that he "doesn't know how to be romantic." or that he believes that he "isn't romantic." Because it kinda fits that Dean doesn't understand that romance doesn't always have to be super big gestures but can be just giving someone your last bite of pie (HA) or just remembering the kind of coffee your significant other likes or lending a gentle ear when your significant other needs that. And I love that you highlight that the reader knows this, but Dean doesn't. That the reader can see those wonderful little things that Dean does for her and no other man ever has. Also so jealous because I want Dean to make me a mixtape 📼

But I love Dean's take on romance in his section: the chick flick, the fairy lights, the snacks, and the box of chocolates. It is very him and oh so perfect 😍

"Happy unattached-drifter-Christmas, sweetheart."

Soldier Boy

Aww yeah, here we go, our man is pulling out all the stops *rubbing hands together* 🤣 This one was so good, because yes, Ben knows what romance is supposed to look like, he just doesn't always put in the effort (I say it gently because I love this grumpy old man with my whole heart) LOL

But when he does- LOOK OUT LADIES 👀🔥

Everything you wrote for him is so perfect- "Of course" the lingerie and a dress that is his signature color, and the fancy resturant, the horse drawn carriage, the roses- All so on brand for him.

I loved:

He holds your hand in public and protectively guides you goddamn everywhere with a palm on the small of your back, showing you off like arm candy – the trophy wife. Sure, you could protest and critique his… traditional views. You’re not a fucking award he’s won for bad acting! But your cheeks flush furiously every single time he brags boisterously about you to anyone who will listen. And those who don’t listen are forced to listen. But you can’t deny it feels good to be so wanted, so desired.

Because we all know that man would one million percent be possessive of his woman and fall into that traditional view of a woman being a trophy, but oh my sweet baby corn sometimes the feminist inside of me kinda goes just a tad on hiatus 😂 And then when she comes back, she usually thinks that she can fix him lol

Beau Arlen

I still have not gotten to see Big Sky yet, but each time I see something for this beautiful "cowboy sheriff" I remind myself that I need to lol.

He doesn’t wait for D-Day either. Every day for thirteen days straight, there’s a little surprise waiting for you when you get home.

Oh goodness, I love the idea that he gets his girl something each day to make her feel "loved and wanted." That is just the sweetest thing in the whole world 😍

This day is all about his endless love for you. Honestly, the sheer amount of everything makes you even slightly uncomfortable. It might sound dumb, but how could you ever compete with that level of commitment?

This is exactly how I'd feel. I love the romance but at the same time I would literally feel like I've done absolutely nothing to deserve that and how can I make it up to him?

He’s moved, and it moves you. Because, after all, to you, there’s no bigger gift in this world than his smile.

I'm crying. I just thought you should know 😭

Russell Shaw

Out of all of these, I think that Russell's was my absolute favorite. (Ben I still love you, please don't take this the wrong way 😂)

But I loved everything about this one because the way you portrayed the reader.

All day long, you curse the greeting card companies and the poisonous claws of consumerism for making you care in the first place. You’re a strong, independent woman. You shouldn’t need a man to give you flowers, gifts, or attention to feel appreciated. Still…

If this isn't me every freaking year I don't know what is 🤣 Half price chocolate the day after is always the best thing about Valentine's Day lol

But I like that the reader was a little disappointed at the beginning even though she was trying not to be. It was very realistic and makes so much sense, especially because she's in a long distance relationship and watching all the couples around her getting showered in gifts.

Russell always leaves you wanting more… That can both be a good thing and a very bad one.

Love this for Russell, because I think it fits anyone who is in a relationship with him. He gets called away on a whim to do a crazy job that he can't really talk about. Of course he's always going to leave his significant other "wanting more."

“I can’t believe you’re here!” You surge forward into his strong arms so forcefully you almost tackle him to the ground, your hands slinging around his neck. If you could keep him caged there forever, you’d be fine with it. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” Russell says with a warm chuckle and claims your lips in a searingly passionate kiss that shows you just how much he’s certainly missed you too. “Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

AND HE SURPRISED HER?! I LOVE THIS!! 😍😍😍

Girl, all of these were perfect and fit each of these characters!!! But for the love of goodness all of these had me:

P.S. If there is still room of your taglist can you possibly please add me? You're such a wonderful writer! 🥹👉🏻👈🏻💗

Headcanon: Valentine's Day 💕

(Dean Winchester // Soldier Boy // Beau Arlen // Russell Shaw – Edition)

Prompt: How would your favorite men surprise you for Valentine's Day?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader // Soldier Boy x reader // Beau Arlen x reader // Russell Shaw x reader

Warnings: +18 for some language and spice, tons of fluff, a smidge of angst

A/N: Something sweet to sweep you off your feet for the most romantic day of the year 😉 Happy early Valentine's from me, my loves 💖 (And big thanks to the lovely, amazing @zepskies 💜 for starting this trend in the first place. It's addicting 😂🫶)

Dean:

Dean isn’t big on Valentine’s Day and romance. Not because he thinks it’s an unnecessary holiday invented by greeting card companies, but because he genuinely doesn’t know how to be romantic.

You’re aware of this and don’t care if he surprises you with a big gesture. Because truth is, Dean’s romantic when it comes to the little things.

You don’t care if he brings you flowers because he brings you your favorite take-out order when you so much as mention that you’re hungry.

You don’t care if he gets you a card because he gets up in the middle of the night and saunters all the way to kitchen to bring you a glass of water when you tell him you’re thirsty.

You don’t care if he gets you chocolate because he creates personal mixtapes for you with songs you said you liked during random drives.

He listens to you. He holds open doors for you. He protects you. He keeps you calm. He takes care of you when you’re injured. And he loves you with every fiber of his being.

So, really, you don’t care if he makes a big deal out of one random calendar day a year or not. It doesn’t prove his love for you – the little things do.

However, you’re still sweetly surprised (and moved to tears) when you find the Dean Cave dipped in the warm glow of fairy lights and candles.

He’s picked out your favorite chick-flick and your favorite snacks.

He opens his arms with a big, cheeky grin and invites you into his snuggly embrace on the couch.

There’s a box of chocolates on the coffee table, a few of them half eaten, and a note that reads: I’m not a smart man, but I know what love is. Be mine?

You smile and kiss his scruffy cheek. “Always.”

Flustered, he smiles, cheeks tinged pink, and kisses your crown. “Happy unattached-drifter-Christmas, sweetheart.”

Soldier Boy:

To say Ben’s old-school when it comes to romance would be an understatement. While the rest of the year his bedside manners leave much to desire, he strangely shines on Valentine’s.

Mostly, because he knows sex is a given on this holiest of holy days. No sickness or period can stop him.

If you accidentally died, you’re even sure he’d pull a full Weekend at Bernie’s and have a night out with your corpse.

First, he surprises you with a delicately wrapped gift on your bed: a tight-fitting, beautiful emerald evening gown and the matching lacy lingerie set.

Of course he got you underwear, even though he won’t mind if you don’t wear anything at all under that dress.

He then takes you out to the fanciest restaurant in the city, where he reserved a private room away from all the other commoners.

His attention is only on you.

He praises you all night long and gives compliments as if he's never done anything else his entire (long) life.

He orders the most expensive bottle of wine and the best steak and makes sure you know that it is.

He encourages you to play footsie under the table with him before he slips the heel off your foot, and your toes massage the growing bulge in his slacks.

He holds your hand in public and protectively guides you goddamn everywhere with a palm on the small of your back, showing you off like arm candy – the trophy wife.

Sure, you could protest and critique his… traditional views.

You’re not a fucking award he’s won for bad acting!

But your cheeks flush furiously every single time he brags boisterously about you to anyone who will listen. And those who don’t listen are forced to listen.

But you can’t deny it feels good to be so wanted, so desired.

When you come home at the end of the night (with a fucking horse-drawn carriage no less), Ben can barely keep his large hands from roaming your curves. You know he expects his reward now for being the best possible lover ever.

On the kitchen island, you also find a huge bouquet of red roses waiting for you. You can barely appreciate its beauty before the zipper in the back of your dress slides open. Well… rips open.

Between the thorny stems, there’s a card attached, too. It doesn’t read “Be Mine,” however.

Nope, it says, “You are mine.”

And you know he fucking means it.

Beau Arlen:

Your favorite cowboy sheriff will pull out all the stops as soon as the calendar on his desk reads February.

He doesn’t wait for D-Day either. Every day for thirteen days straight, there’s a little surprise waiting for you when you get home.

Your favorite flowers, your favorite meal, your favorite movie, a framed picture of you and him from your first vacation together, a necklace you saw in an antique store you mentioned in passing…

Some might say he’s a little overcompensating.

But Beau has made mistakes in his past, especially on the relationship front, and will be damned if he hasn’t learned from them.

So, he will make sure you feel wanted and loved till the day he dies, even though you keep repeatedly telling him he doesn’t need to make a fuss about Valentine’s Day.

Really, you’re good with picked flowers from the garden.

But Beau’s stubborn and won’t be discouraged. The southern gentlemanliness is rooted deep within his heart and soul.

This day is all about his endless love for you.

Honestly, the sheer amount of everything makes you even slightly uncomfortable. It might sound dumb, but how could you ever compete with that level of commitment?

There ain’t enough blow jobs in this world to make up for his devotion to you.

But on the big day itself, you are actually the one who surprises him with a romantic weekend trip to a cabin in the mountains and excellent fishing spots close by.

You know the biggest gift you could give him is some peace and quiet, time for himself, and a listening ear because he will surely talk the entire time about God and the world while you’re stuck on a boat with him.

But on the night itself, when you give him your gift, he’s actually speechless. Tears brim in his green eyes because you thought of him.

He’s moved, and it moves you.

Because, after all, to you, there’s no bigger gift in this world than his smile.

Russell Shaw:

You don’t expect much when Valentine’s Day looms in the distance. In fact, you don’t expect anything at all.

You’ve only been dating Russell for a couple of months now, and you barely ever see him. Your time together mostly consists of text messages, late night phone calls, and the occasional video chats.

You know his job is complicated. You know he can’t be around as much, even though you direly wish he could.

On the morning of the dreaded day, you receive a simple text message:

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart! I’ll call you later!”

You hate to admit it, but you feel a little disappointed – disenchanted even. You don’t want to make a big deal out of it because it’s a stupid, unimportant almost-holiday.

All day long, you curse the greeting card companies and the poisonous claws of consumerism for making you care in the first place.

You’re a strong, independent woman. You shouldn’t need a man to give you flowers, gifts, or attention to feel appreciated.

Still…

As you park in the driveway after a long day at work where you watched your colleagues fawn over the bouquets they received from their partners, you feel disheartened when you still haven’t even gotten your promised phone call.

Russell always leaves you wanting more… That can both be a good thing and a very bad one.

But as you close the car door, your phone vibrates in your pocket. You all too keenly pull it out and pick up, almost dropping it because your hands are jittering with excitement at this point and your heart is pounding furiously.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Russell greets you on the other end, the deep timbres of his voice sending immediate shivers down your spine. “You home yet?”

All your worries and sorrows are instantly forgotten when you hear the big smile on his freckled face that he’s surely carrying.

He’s worth it, you remind yourself, even when it’s not easy. Life is not always rainbows and butterflies.

“Uh, almost. Unlocking the front door as we speak,” you tell him.

“Sorry I couldn’t call you sooner. Was stuck on a plane. Long flight,” he says mysteriously. You don’t even ask at this point. You know he can’t tell you.

“No worries. I was busy, anyways,” you lie and hope he buys your nonchalance. “Anywhere interesting you are now?”

“You could say that, yeah…”

“Well, if you hold on a second, I’ll slip out of those clothes and make your evening even more interesting with some pictures,” you tease flirtatiously and push the door open to your dark apartment.

The light switches on by itself, though. You blink in surprise before the phone falls out of your hand when Russell beams broadly at you.

“As much as I love getting your dirty little photos, I think I prefer the real thing tonight,” he says slyly.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” You surge forward into his strong arms so forcefully you almost tackle him to the ground, your hands slinging around his neck. If you could keep him caged there forever, you’d be fine with it.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” Russell says with a warm chuckle and claims your lips in a searingly passionate kiss that shows you just how much he’s certainly missed you too. “Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

Hope you enjoyed these little snippets, friends! Do you agree with these? 😉

I legit stole Dean's half-eaten box of chocolate and the Forrest Gump note from another fic of mine. I couldn't resist. I can totally see him doing something silly and cute like that 😂

Happy Valentine's 💕

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[yowyowyaoi]

*At the newly rebuilt Uchiha compound*

Sasuke: So today’s the day, eh, old man? Are you nervous?

Obito, standing in front of a mirror: N-no! Why would I be nervous??

Madara, from his easy chair: You’ve only re-adjusted that tie about fifteen times now, boy. Tsk; all of this preparation for that eye-stealing son of a —

Itachi: Okay, “gramps”, we talked about this. You know it’s only by virtue of Kakashi Hatake’s compassion and mercy that you and Obito were allowed to remain free after the war. Be grateful.

Madara, grumbling: “Mercy”, indeed. He only pardoned us so that the Hokage wouldn’t be getting engaged to a war criminal.

Sasuke: All things considered, Kakashi has been great to all of us, Obito or no Obito. Look, he’s even going to go through this silly clan tradition of “performing” for your intended fiance’s Clan Elder in order to get permission to marry Obito.

Madara: The “clan elder” who SHOULD be me.

Obito, turning from the mirror: C’mon, gramps, we all voted on the wisest and fairest one here being Itachi. He beat you out fair and square; get over it already.

Itachi: I can’t wait to see what kind of act he’s going to put on for us. Does he even have any creative talents?

Obito: I’m not really sure, but I think he mentioned something about singing.

Sasuke: … Singing? I’ve never heard him —

*in the distance there’s a loud commotion coming up the road towards the house*

Madara: *sighs* Sounds like it’s starting; perhaps we should take our places outside.

*all of them go out into the courtyard, where there are prearranged chairs. Obito is the only one not in a chair; he takes a veil and uses it to cover his face, sitting on Itachi’s right side on the ground by his feet*

*A small parade marches up the road towards the house. Kakashi is in the center, dressed all in white. Naruto is on his right, playing a small drum ((slightly off-beat)), Gai is to Kakashi’s left, crying and playing a french horn, and Sakura is to Naruto’s right, skillfully playing a small keyboard strapped to her shoulders*

*they come to a stop directly in front of Itachi, and Kakashi kneels in the grass at Itachi’s feet*

Kakashi: Itachi Uchiha, head of the Uchiha clan. I come before you this morning to receive your blessing to marry Obito Uchiha. As per the traditions of your clan, I have prepared a song that expresses my feelings for him.

Itachi, trying to keep the smile from his face: Proceed.

Kakashi: *stands and beckons to the group, who start to play a gentle-sounding melody*

Kakashi, opening his mouth and letting out a startling horrible singing voice: Obitooooo! I love you sooooo! Since we were little boys, and you would steal all of my toys —

*the Uchiha’s immediately go into telepathically communicating with each other*

Sasuke: Oh my God …

Madara: *laughing hysterically inside of all their minds* I KNEW it!! I knew this union wasn’t meant to be!

Obito: Shut up, Madara! Can’t you tell how heartfelt this is??

Madara: Heartfelt, or meant to make me feel like clawing my heart out of my chest so that I’m not here to suffer this anymore?

Itachi: He’s trying … it’s not so bad …

Kakashi: … and even though I’m not worthy of your claaaaan, I still want you, Obito, to be my maaaaaaan, so come on please, Itachi, give me his haaaaaand —

Sasuke: For God’s sake, even that tone-deaf dumbass Naruto is cringing! Big brother, please, just give him permission and end this! My ears can’t take much more!

Kakashi: And now for the second part of my song, I want to —

Itachi, out-loud: NO! N-no need for any more. You’ve convinced me; there is nobody more worthy of Obito Uchiha’s hand than you. *stands and takes Obito by the arm, lifting him to his feet, before placing his hand in Kakashi’s* Emgagement granted. Come back tomorrow and we shall dine together and discuss plans for a wedding.

*cheers erupt as Kakashi moves Obito’s veil back from his face, and the two kiss*

Sasuke, to Sakura: I’m glad that’s over. I can’t imagine having had to sit through a second verse.

Sakura, grinning: Oh if you thought THAT was bad, wait until you hear the act that Naruto’s got planned for when he comes to ask Itachi for your hand. Lets just say I’ve got my medical team working on hearing aids and prosthetic ears for everyone as we speak.

Sasuke:

[fallininlust]

( IV ) DECEMBER EIGHTH

♱ — BIRDS OF A FEATHER ( WE SHOULD STICK TOGETHER ) !

pair. sturn triplets x gn!reader genre. pure fluff, found family trope

word count : [ 2.3k ]

description : genuine support / the art of finding your people / very expressive love and affection for friends / christmas trees / isles of ornaments / wrapping paper crinkling / littered gift bows / tape galore / santa hats / layered warmth / cuddle piles / affectionate hugs / and pure platonic love

Gently, gently make room for happiness at last.

Albert Camus, Notebooks 1951-1959 !

The key felt heavy in your hand.

You knew they’d told you to use it whenever you needed, to go into their home whenever you wanted because you were basically family, but you still felt like you were intruding. It was not your home, you constantly felt like you didn’t belong within their trio. But that was just your overthinking. They always told you they loved you like you were another one of their siblings. They adored you endlessly, hence why you had a key to their home in Los Angeles anyway.

Still, you were coming to terms with the fact that Nick had even given you a key in the first place. You remembered that day so well.

The three of them had sat you down, them across from you in their living room — the situation had resembled an intervention. And it was. Sort of. They’d told you again and again to make yourself at home, and you did! … After a few hours of being there. And when you’d return another day, the process started over again. So, with hopes that you’d finally catch on, they sat you down.

Nick had held his hand out, the shiny silver startling you. “This is f’you.”

You’d blinked rapidly. “Huh?” It was all you could manage to breathe out.

“It’s a key to this place, kid.” Matt had given you the slightest bit of context, but you were still so confused and your face said it all.

Despite himself, Chris had let out a chuckle, rolling his lips into his mouth when everyone’s gaze shot to him. “I didn’t mean to laugh, I’m sorry, but look—” he nodded toward your expression with another snicker. “—can’t help it.”

Your gaze had turned back to the more serious of the two triplets, breathing in slowly as you attempted to process what they were doing. “You guys,” you started to echo what they’d told you, “are giving me a key to your place?”

“Hey,” Chris started to feel bad when he’d noticed your genuine disbelief, “you’re here more than you’re at your own apartment, kid. Why shouldn’t we give you a key?”

“Exactly!” Matt had nodded, reaching over Nick to pat his younger brother’s shoulder. “Besides, even when we do go back to Mass’, you’re the one who house sits for us. It makes sense for you to have your own way in now.”

Nick had scoffed in agreement, looking incredibly nonchalant — he felt it was something insignificant, the complete opposite of what you were feeling. “It’s been long overdue.”

“I just—” your eyes started to sting, water building in the corners. You sniffled, quickly wiping the stray tear.

“Woah, hey.” Chris had almost cooed, feeling his own waterline start to flood, and standing up to sit next to you. “Don’t cry, ‘cause I’ll cry, dude.”

“Sorry, it’s …” you’d shaken your head slowly, feeling silly for tearing up over a measly key. But it meant so much more to you than that. You reached out to take the key Nick had for you, holding it so tentatively like it was going disappear and you wanted to cherish it for the time being. You felt an arm wrap around you, pulling your head onto his shoulder. Chris was holding you close against him, understanding your train of thought but being unable to verbalize comfort for you — he’d never been good with words. “I’m sorry.” You choked out through your tears.

Immediately, all three triplets had begun to shush you, each of them having some sort of hold on you as they comforted you through your vulnerable moment, and that only made you clutch the key so much tighter.

When your cries had turned to sniffles, they knew they could pull away. They’d looked at you with a new sense of softness, and the fondness that’d always been there seemed to triple in size.

They adored you to bits.

And you felt the exact same about them.

But still, the key seemed to weigh down the carabiner on your hip.

So, you knocked the three times you normally did. You heard the footsteps inside, but you also heard them halt right in front of the door.

“Nuh-uh.” You heard Nick say, maybe to his brothers? — yes, to his brothers. “We gave them a key for a reason.”

Chris seemed to be in agreement. “He’s right.” Then he projected his voice louder, so you could hear him clearer. “If you wanna’ come in, ya’ gonna’ have to use the key, kid.”

“Fuck you.” You replied without any heat, tentatively unhooking your carabiner to single out the key to their home. The key they’d decorated for you after a month or two of you having it, hoping to entice you into using it.

You heard his cackle through the door, rolling your eyes. You clenched your jaw slightly, still feeling like an intruder when you put the key in and twisted. You glared at them, albeit playfully, when they cheered as you opened the door slowly — pulling the key back with your arm.

Matt’s tired eyes greeted you with a smile to match them. “Can we go shoppin’ now?”

You deadpanned. “Y’all couldn’t have stepped out in the first place?”

“Hey!” Matt immediately went defensive. “I tried to get ‘em out the door the second we heard the fuckin’ knocks, but they refused. Don’t—”

“Alright, enough!” Nick snapped and pushed past both of his brothers to lock arms with you, pulling you ahead to walk with him. “God, they’re so fuckin’ annoying.”

Chris jogged forward, wrapping his arm around your neck, pulling you closer toward him in a headlock, and shaking you playfully in greeting.

Immediately you shoved your elbow into his rib cage, smiling when he groaned in pain and pulled away from you to rub at his sore side. A loud chuckle escaped you when he glared at you for what you had done.

Matt followed behind the three of you sluggishly, still half asleep.

Your eyes cast over to him with a bit of concern. “Matt, d’you want me to drive?”

“Nah, I can—” he was cut off by his own yawn. He pursed his lips sheepishly when you arched an eyebrow at him expectantly. “If … if you want to, I guess.”

You wordlessly lifted a hand, silently asking for him to toss you the keys. You would’ve offered your car, but it was smaller than their SUV, and you didn’t know how much was going to be bought. Their car had more storage for the potential mess of items they were going to inevitably spend their money on.

When you started the engine, you turned your head to face the passenger. “Where we headed to first?”

Before Matt could answer, Nick interrupted with his clapping hands. “I’m so excited to decorate together!” He went as far as reaching forward to repeatedly tap your shoulder.

“Me, too, Nick.” A breathless laugh escaped your lips at his evident joy.

“You have a Costco membership, right, kid?” Matt was quick to spit out the question before anyone could interrupt him again.

An impulsively startled bark of laughter left you, contagious enough for Chris to cackle along with you. “Random ass fuckin’ question, dude.” You saw the way he deadpanned from the corner of your eye, so you stifled your grin. “Yeah, I do. The fuck d’you wanna’ know that for?”

He shrugged lightly. “They got good Christmas trees.”

You looked into the rearview mirror, finding the other two triplets’ gazes. The three of you shared over dramatically disbelieving looks before you quickly focused back on the road.

Even the parking lot of the warehouse store was overwhelming, which meant the inside was so much worse. Nick and Chris flourished in the chaos, chatting among themselves as they walked ahead of the cart you were pushing. You and Matt looked around warily, sticking together with tense shoulders at the loud noises and constant flow of people surrounding every inch of the store.

Once Matt got a little bit more comfortable with some encouragement from his younger brother, he relaxed into his normal self. He jokingly picked up random items, making lewd comments amount the bulked sizes that Chris would chortle about. You could only roll your eyes at their antics, hiding your own amusement by biting your lip. Breathless laughs left your lips when Nick would reprimand them for it, looking around dramatically with wide eyes.

“You’re gonna’ get us kicked out, you idiots!” Nick hissed at them, tone sharp. There was no real heat behind his words though, just enough warning to make the younger two quiet down.

After many items picked up and placed in the cart as well as slapped wrists and items returned to their rightful places, the four of you had managed to find the Christmas trees.

The tall, perfect pines stood tall among the vast of packaged furniture for sale.

Chris’ eyes widened with childish wonder as he stared up at the trees, a similar glint shining in them. “Which one do we buy?”

“What color decorations do y’all plan on buyin’?” You countered. “If ya’ goin’ red, green, and gold, I’d say get the green tree. But if ya’ feelin’ blue and silver, the white tree’s better.”

Nick hummed, nodding in complete agreement.

Matt narrowed his eyes in contemplation as he stared at the trees intensely. “I feel like we all prefer silver. And it’s not like any of our actual furniture at home’s got gold at all. Maybe we should go blue and silver?”

“I dunno’,” Nick voiced his disagreement to the idea, “I feel like we should go traditional wit’ red, green, gold since it’s our first Christmas decorating our own place.”

“We see traditional decorations back in Mass’ though, Nick. We could switch it up and go silver here.” Chris agreed with Matt’s idea.

Suddenly, Matt turned to look at you. “I think you should decide, kid.”

“It’s not my house?” Your eyebrows furrowed at the abrupt attention.

The three of them stared at you blankly. Two years of friendship, one year of which you were at their house more often than not, six months of having a key to their place, and you still hadn’t gotten the message. Their house was your house.

You pursed your lips sheepishly at their stares. “… I think you should do blue and silver. It complements the interior better.”

Nick clapped proudly. “Thank you!”

Getting the big box in the van was a hassle, but you’d done it. Somehow it fit, so getting to the second location for actual decorations and ornaments was your next mission.

They’d suggested Target, but they were quickly shot down by you and your distaste for the company. Ultimately, the four of you had settled on Michael’s. They had amazing decor, and you were hoping to find some art supplies as well as wrapping paper for gifts.

Again, pushing the cart had been your job, so you told them you were going to find the things you needed while they chose out their decorations — all simple tasks, right?

Wrong.

By the time you’d found them again, they were arguing about ornaments.

You blinked at them a few times, sighing when they didn’t notice you.

“Boys!” You snapped, effectively shutting them up. They looked at you sheepishly when you glared at them for all the noise they’d been making. “Move.” You huffed and pushed them out of the way, looking through the decorations.

Much like the tree and the color combination for the house, you’d chosen the ornaments, the garlands, the tree topper, the house decor, the wreath, and the wrapping paper.

The four of you walked in silence to the register, the triplets blushing profusely in embarrassment when you apologized to the cashier for their loud noise as the employee rang up the items.

On the walk to the car, Nick’s eyes lit up before they dulled slightly — a lightbulb turning on then off. “We should’ve filmed this.”

You immediately shot him a startled look at the idea. “I woulda’ kept my ass home.”

“You’re no fun.” He huffed.

With a full car, and happy hearts, you drove back to their place with a content smile.

♱

Actually decorating the place had been a slight hassle simply because no one could agree. You tried your best to stay out of the arguments, obliging to their decisions because, again, you felt it wasn’t your place to decide. But when they’d turn to look at you expectantly, three sets of eyes narrowing when you’d hesitate, you figured it was only right to give your input.

It also took a lot longer than expected to finish the task. The sun had set hours ago, the darkness of night glaring through the open windows.

With a steadying sigh, you placed the silver star at the top of the white tree before you pulled away to admire your handiwork. When you backed away from the tree, a body barreled into you at full speed from behind. Your body jolted slightly, but quickly relaxed when you realized who it was.

Chris.

His arms wrapped around your shoulders, his body practically vibrating with excitement as he stared at the fully decorated home before him. You reached an hand up to grasp at his forearm, keeping him there.

Before you knew it, Nick was on your other side. He slowly melted against you, leaning his head on your shoulder that was covered by Chris’ elbow. You tentatively leant your head against Nick’s.

The last to join the makeshift hug was Matt. He stood on the other side of his younger brother, standing similarly to his older brother on your side. Silently, you both reached out to each other, intertwining your hands for more comfort.

The four of you stood before a house turned home — a lived in, cozy, and welcoming home.

Your smile turned shaky, quivering with the realization that dawned upon you.

All you’d ever wished for on Christmas Eve nights was a home. And here you’d found it with three boys whose hearts were made of gold.

icarus inquires . . .

i’m ngl, i didn’t ever think i’d finish these lmao. finals got to me and i wanted to kms, so i fully gave up. but i’m back and determined. enjoy <3

tags . . .

@mattsfavoritestar / @peiivnao / @joopsworlx

[aftgficrec]

Hi! Wanted to ask if you have something that deals with Neil as a parent ( something like the hope was a dangerous disquieting thing?) I really love to see the way having a kid changes Neil and the course of things in the books

Thanks in advance! I really love your page and been waiting to catch you guys open for so long:) have a good day🤍

There’s plenty to find for Neil with a child.  Not all of it with him as a parent, and some of it takes place post canon or in an AU, but for this post we’ve collected mostly canon divergent fics where Neil comes to Palmetto with a kid or a young sibling in tow. -S

previous recs:

Neil/Andrew with a kid before they meet here

Andreil with kids or siblings here

you may also like:

Andreil & kids here (for a large mix of post-canon, canon divergent and AU fics)

canon divergent fics:

‘El Corazón’ and ‘We’ll Both Be Fine’ (updated) here

‘The F-Word’ here

‘The Sun Still Rises’ here (updated)

AUs:

‘Drop In, Drop By’, ‘Reckless’ (updated) and ‘Whose Your Daddy’ (completed) here

‘Eighteen Wheels And Three Beating Hearts’, ‘Tales from a Quirky Small Town’ and ‘what now?’ here

‘Sunflower, Vol. 6’ here

‘Oliver.’ and ‘Growing With You’ here

‘Being So Normal’ here

‘Pinch of Salt’ here

‘Blood and Diamonds’ here

Neil has a child:

Hope Was A Dangerous, Disquieting Thing by BisexualChaosDemon [Rated M, 439920 words, complete, 2024]

Previously rec’ed here

When Neil was fourteen, his father caught up to them in Seattle and he got separated from Mary. Unfortunately, neither of them escaped unscathed, but they did escape dispite all the odds. They manage to reunite at one of their emergency rendezvous and take off running. That's where their luck ran out though because they only made it to California before Mary's injuries finally bested her. In the end, his mother couldn't go on but she made Neil promise to keep running because one of them had to make it. With no other choice, Neil burned her body, buried her ashes on the beach, and did what he had promised. Then, impossibly, things went from bad to worse — After a month of just sort of drifting in his grief, Neil found out he was pregnant.

tw: violence, tw: rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: ptsd, tw: abortion

We’ll Both Be Fine by Sarah_Lee25 [Not Rated, 211772 words, incomplete, last updated Jan 2025]

Previously rec’ed here (includes art)

“I have baggage.” “All my foxes have baggage. You won’t be the first.” Wymack said. Neil doubted any fox in all Wymack’s years has carried the same weight as Neil when it came to baggage. “That's not what I mean.” “Go on. Let’s hear it then.” The coach waited patiently for him to continue. It should have been comforting but Neil was far more scared than ever. “I have a son. His name’s Milo.” ____ OR what if Neil had a kid when he was on the run?

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: transphobic language, tw: homophobic language, tw: murder, tw: dissociation

The Reality Of A Bruise by Oli_Stans_Andreil [Rated E, 100600 words, incomplete, last updated Oct 2024]

“Hi pumpkin.” He said, giving her a kiss on the nose. Neil scooped her up in his arms and turned back to Andrew, Kevin, and Wymack. “You have a kid?” Andrew asked again. “My dad had a kid.” Neil corrected, running his hands through her hair. She giggled and did the same to his black curly hair. “Sorry to disappoint you but I can’t go without Jo. Womp Womp I guess.” “Womp womp!” She copied, glaring at Kevin. “No fucking way he’s coming to my court with a kid,” Kevin said in disbelief. “It ain't your fucking court, Kevin. Get your head out of your ass for five seconds.” Wymack snapped. OR Neil Josten gets recruited by the Palmetto State Foxes like normal, but he drags along some baggage, his little sister, Jo Josten. A small little blonde-haired blue-eyed three year old that thinks Neil is the greatest thing in the whole world.

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced child abuse,  tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: attempted sexual assault, tw: panic attacks, tw: scars, tw: nightmares, tw: nonconsensual drug use

A Child’s Heart by AllAngstNoComfort [Rated G, 18039 words, incomplete, last updated Aug 2024]

“Is there anything else that I should know about before I leave?” Wymack asks. Neil takes this as the opportunity it is “There is one thing” Neil says hesitantly. Wymack hums in approval for Neil to continue. “It wouldn’t just be me,” Neil says slowly. Wymack cocks his head to the side and raises an eyebrow. “I have a kid. He’s 18 months old. His name is Oscar. The school doesn’t know about him but I can’t just leave him behind”

tw: violence

NB: find title art for this fic by the author here

Running on Empty by Andriel_4evermore [Rated M, 34655 words, incomplete, last updated Feb 2025]

Neil Josten is a chaos. Secrets swirl around him like a second skin, each one more dangerous than the last. For someone on the run, those secrets are more than baggage—they’re a death sentence. Hiding from his father. Running from his past. Escaping the truth of who he is. It’s the life his mother taught him, and the only one Neil has ever known. But then everything changed. His mother is gone, and Neil isn’t just running for himself anymore—he’s running for his son. Which secret will destroy him first? That he’s the Butcher’s son? That he’s an Omega in hiding? Or that Neil Josten, the boy who was never meant to exist, is now a father? The Foxes think they’re recruiting a talented striker with a bad attitude. What they’re really getting is a storm in human form—one that will either shatter their fragile team or force them to face the wreckage Neil’s been running from his entire life.

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: panic attacks

Just trust me, you’ll be fine. by jxnkiee [Rated M, 27105 words, incomplete, last updated Nov 2024]

When Andrew accompanies Coach and Kevin to a town in the middle of nowhere to recruit a striker, he didn't expect to run into his old friend and the first person I ever loved, Alex. Nor did he expect Alex (now Neil Josten) to have a son bearing his own name, Joseph Josten.

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: transphobic language

Neil with a sibling:

The Sun Still Rises by mordax [Rated E, 548083 words, incomplete, last updated Feb 2025]

Previously rec’ed here

Somewhere on the road, Mary Hatford gets pregnant with her second child. When she passes, she leaves behind not only Neil, but his toddler brother. Survival is difficult without also raising a kid. Worn out and desperate, Neil still somehow ends up at Palmetto, only this time, he brings his four-year-old brother with him.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: torture, tw: blood, tw: murder,  tw: anxiety, tw: panic attacks,  tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: drug use, tw: involuntary sedation, tw: reenactment therapy with noncon

NB: find fanart for this fic by @elidanus on Twitter here

I left you alone in a house, not a home by ohhhhmygod [Rated M, 114147 words, incomplete, last updated Aug 2024]

AU plot change where Neil has a little brother, Liam, who comes to stay with the monsters for the summer after Neil's freshman year.  Neil finds he might not mind being a brother, and Liam finds a new home.   Disclaimer: Heavily character driven, minimal plot realism, all for the dramatics

tw: violence, tw: self harm, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: eating disorders, tw: implied/referenced forced cannibalism, tw: vomiting, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced emotional manipulation 

AU:

Is this it? by Badkarmadaddy97865 [Rated T, 8546 words, incomplete, last updated Feb 2023]

When Neil Josten was put into foster care he was 15 and his daughter was 2, now hes 16 and Lenora was 3. He had apparently ran away to many times and has to be taken to The Wymack group home, hes heard that its just a place that fucked up kids go. But he stays he decides it not as bad as he thinks.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: panic attacks

Four, three, two, one by foxyroxi [Rated G, 5753 words, complete, 2023, locked]

Part 2 of Formula One shenanigans

Andrew didn’t win the championship that year, but he left the season with a boyfriend and his daughter and a mental binder of happy memories with Neil and Vivienne.

maybe you're the light by lemonnie [Rated T, 3490 words, incomplete, last updated Feb 2021]

when andrew decides to take a voyage across the ocean, hoping to find well, andrew doesn't know exactly what he's searching for yet - shit hits the fan quick and andrew's life is flipped upside down.  he learns how to live again, how to trust and most of all, how to love.

tw: injuries 

A different kind of danger in the daylight (I can never let go) by NotNeilsCats [Rated T, 6790 words, complete, 2019]

When Neil Josten's child shows up unannounced to their eight year anniversery of Neil's death, the former Palmetto state Foxes has to face the fact and small hope that maybe, just maybe, he isn't dead after all. And his daughter is a ghost of their friend with his mennerisms and face and they miss him violently

tw: presumed major character death

Art

Neil holding sleeping Arlo art by @/bluelake_art (formerly @/solemnlyswear_art) on instagram (more Arlo here)

[foofygoldfish]

hi this is idk me being vulnerable or whatever

but uh if anyone ever wants to chat or like… discord or whatever? I’d like that?

[lesbiansanemi]

Currently trying not to vomit over the fact that I essentially just lost almost a thousand dollars brb

[the-casbah-way]

i found loads of pictures of my uncle i am going 2 cry

[kavehayati]

I wish I could inject pasilyo into my brain so I can have permanent happiness