#I've never had someone who's old enough to be my mother look out for me like this before

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

You'll Be Home For Christmas

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You agree to do a favour for your coworker but it might be more than you can handle.

Character: Clark Kent

Day Nineeen of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - fake dating becomes too real.

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"I know it sounds weird, but, my mom's getting up there..." Clark looks away as he pokes his tongue into his cheek. 

You're not sure how he does it. How someone like him can make himself look pathetic. He's a big man. Mountainous really. He dwarfs just about everybody in the office. Even the desks look tiny next to him. And the chisel of his face is so sharp yet in that moment, he looks heart-wrenchingly soft. 

"It's just you two this year?" You ask. 

"Um, yeah," he rubs the back of his neck then drags his hand around and down his chest. He shifts in his chair and clears his throat. "Look, I know I can be nosy but I overheard you and Maggie. You said you don't have any plans this year--" He cringes and leans forward, putting his elbows to the desk as he covers his face then peeks out between his fingers. "It's a dumb idea." 

"It seems like you're pretty stressed," you fold your hands behind you. You don't want to agree with his last statement and make him feel worse. 

"Yeah, after Lois..." he shakes his head, "my mom's convinced I'm going to be alone forever and she keeps telling me how old she's getting. Says she wants to live long enough to see me happy." 

"Wow, sounds worse than my mom," you kid but quickly deflate. "Sorry, I'm not trying to make light." 

"No, it's ridiculous," he heaves and drops his eyes. "I've asked two of my neighbours, I asked my mail lady, and oh, yeah, the girl who made my coffee today. I'm all out of shame." 

"Can I think about it?" You ask. You know you're going to say no, but you don't want to do it right away. 

He perks up and his blue eyes flick to meet yours. His brows rise hopefully and he rolls forward in his chair, "really?" 

"I didn't say yes." 

"But you're the first person not to say no," he smiles. 

Oof, there it is. You've always had a hard time in situations like these. You're a people pleaser in the worst way. 

"Anyway, I should get back to work," you say. 

"When-- when will you know?" He asks. 

You hesitate. 

"End of today?" He suggests. 

You nod. Alright. You just need to get out of there before you cave to that puppy dog sparkle in his eyes. A man who looks like that shouldn't be able to make himself so pitiful. 

✨

You don’t know why you said yes. You really were going to say no but when Clark came back to check in, you weren’t prepared. So absorbed in your work, that you forgot about the odd request. 

So here you are, right beside him, wound as tight as a spring as you try not to show it. It’s not how you imagined spending Christmas. When your typical traditional obligation felt through, you were almost relieved. Now that dread has returned but in a new flavour. Meeting someone else’s family is somehow more intimidating than your mother’s judgement. 

Clark’s own anxiety pales in his knuckles as he drives silently. Only the radio provides some softness in the tension between you. It’s always strange to spend time with coworkers outside the office and now you’re jumping headfirst into their most personal facet. 

You fidget in your seat and let your eyes blur out the window. You didn’t expect his mom to live this far, yet you should have. He’d mentioned before he grew up on a farm. It must have been nice in a way, peaceful, out where you can’t hear the city honking and hollering. 

The snow thickens as you get further into the country. His large truck doesn’t falter as he steers cautiously through snowed over tire tracks. Would the plow even get this far out here? If it did, you don’t imagine it would come very often. 

Your mind latches onto those random things to avoid the obvious. You’ve always been this way. Instead of worrying about your mother lecturing you about your stagnant work situation, you’re usually more concerned with how your hair lays or if she’s going to the like that bottle of wine you spent too much money on for her. 

“Thanks again,” Clark’s baritone rolls over you like thunder. “Really. I know it’s... strange. I’m just not ready to date again but... my mom...” 

“Trust me. I get it. My mom can be... a lot,” you chuckle, though it’s really not that funny. 

“Oh yeah? I didn’t want to be nosy, but...” 

“Right, uh, you know, my brother asked if we could have dinner on Christmas Eve instead and the rest of us agreed. She insisted that Christmas Eve isn’t Christmas...” Your heart picks up with the anxiety you bury deep down. “Well, she cancelled Christmas since no one agreed with her.” 

“Wow, really?” 

“Uh, yep,” you can’t look at him. It’s embarrassing. It’s like when your mother dumped your birthday cake in the garbage because you pointed out you were 13 not 12 that year. Or when she walked out of your graduation because your grandmother wouldn’t switch seats. “It’s whatever. Family, right?” 

“I guess,” he says. “My parents always loved holidays too. Especially when dad was around.” 

“I’m sorry about your dad,” you murmur. 

“Don’t be. Sorry if it seems like I keep bringing that up,” he sniffs. 

You look ahead to the sole structure as it looms closer and closer. A farmhouse that comes clearer through the drift of flakes, and a barn like a shadow near its rear corner. It’s like one of those classic festive paintings printed on an advent calendar or some 1950s domestic dream. 

He pulls up to the house and shifts in his seat. Concern needles in his cheek as he squints over the steering wheel. He wrenches the shifter into park and kills the engine. You sit futilely and let him take the lead. 

“Lights are off,” he mutters. 

You nod, unsure what to say. Is something wrong? 

He gets out and you watch the snow dust into his dark hair and across his broad shoulders. He is unfettered by the deep snow. You zip up your coat and turn to your door. You push it open and look out into the perilous carpet. 

Clark surprises you as he comes around. “Here,” he puts his arms out, “it’s deep.” 

You grab his hand and his other goes to your waist. He as good as lifts you and sets you down in the path he’s stomped through the piles. You thank him and awkwardly detach. He shuts the door and moves around you closely. 

He leads the way to the porch so you can walk through his footsteps. Your lashes catch the snow as you look up at the grey sky. You don’t think you’ll make it home that night. Shoot. 

Clark kicks off his boots as he digs in the pocket of his coat and pulls out some keys. He unlocks the door and gestures you in ahead of him. You try to clear off your treads before you enter. He reaches around the frame to flip on the light. 

He crowds you as he enters. You try not to step off the mat and make a mess of the floor. You slip free of your Adidas, not the best choice for the weather, and shuffle aside. He hangs his jackets and combs his fingers through his hair to clear the flakes out. The dark strands glisten with the moisture. 

“Give me your coat,” he reaches for you. 

“Oh, yeah,” you unzip your jacket and hand it over. It isn’t exactly climate appropriate either. You’ve been meaning to invest in winter gear. A lot of times your intentions are only ever that. “Thanks.” 

“Quiet...” he mulls as his eyes skim the ceiling and he hooks your jacket on the rack. 

“Yeah, a little.” 

“Ma’s probably laying down,” he utters with a hint of concern. “I’m gonna go check and see what’s going on.” 

“Oh, I hope she’s okay.” 

“No worries. She stays up all night reading,” he shakes his head. “Feel free to make yourself at home.” 

“Right, er, okay.” 

You back up as he passes you. He heads upstairs and you slowly pivot to take in the interior. The pale wood is marked with knots which give it an even more rustic atmosphere and the decor is simple but in a quaintly traditional way. The details etched into the slender drawer of a side table or the dainty trim of the area rug give a lived-in effect. 

You tiptoe into the front room and hug yourself as you feel a draught whisper in around the window. You find the light switch and flip it on to cast more light across the neatly arranged furniture. There's an old-fashioned iron firestove in the middle of the room, the flue built up to the ceiling.  

You can hear Clark moving around above. The rest of the house is silent. You look at the old grandfather clock standing against the wall. It’s just after eleven in the morning. 

You turn as the stairs creak. Clark appears in the doorway with a sober expression. “Mom’s just waking up. It might be a while. She... she’s having a tough day.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Is she sick?” 

“She is and she isn’t. Just getting older, you know? Ever since she broke her hip last year, she’s been a bit slower,” he explains. 

“Oh, gosh, Clark,” you say. “Is there anything I can do to help? You said she was planning on dinner but I can get all that started for her.” 

“Sure, she usually thaws the turkey in the sink overnight,” he says. “We should probably start there.” 

“Right,” you chew your lip. 

“It’s nice of you to offer but if it’s too much--” 

“No, no! It’s cool. I’ve just never stuffed a turkey on my own,” you say. “I was always just an observer.” 

Your mother never believed anything was done right unless she did it herself. Then she’d complain about having to do it. 

“I can help,” he offers. 

“Sure, sounds like a plan. I think she might appreciate the help, huh?” 

He smiles but doesn’t answer right away. For a moment, he only stares. He clears his throat and nods at last, “she would—will.” 

“Show me where it all is,” you show your palms, not wanting to presume too much. 

He beckons you after him as he leads you through the doorway perpendicular to the one you came through. He turns on another light. This place feels desolate with them off. 

“So uh...” he begins as he goes to the counter and peeks in the sink, “yep, turkey’s in here.” 

“Great, hopefully it’s dethawed,” you say. “Alright, do you mind if I poke around?” 

“It’s all yours. I’ll try to help but gotta be honest, as a kid, I was out in the field,” he stands back to watch you. 

“Right,” you come forward to look the turkey over. Good thing is it won’t need extra time due to being half-frozen. 

“Hum... do you know if your mother does stuffing from scratch or a box?” You turn back to him. 

“Scratch, probably,” he shrugs. 

“Cool, uh, I need bread,” you declare. It’s almost nice being in charge. A very new but refreshing feeling. 

✨

The smell of turkey wafts from the stove as you work at the other fixings. You follow the list on the fridge. The paper is a bit yellowed but you can read it nonetheless. At least Clark’s mother is a planner. Although a few of her ingredients are a bit... aged. Nothing you can’t use but the spices have a little extra dust on the caps. 

Clark appears again. He’s been pacing in and out, helping where he can, but he seems too restless to focus. You tap pause on your phone to stop the music. You don’t get any signal out here but you have a bunch downloaded. It helps ease the silence that thickens with the fall of snow. 

“So, how’s mom? She doing okay?” You ask. 

“Mom?” He hesitates, “yeah, she’s getting there. Sorry about this. I know the whole reason you did this was to make her happy. For me. I just didn’t expect--” He blows out a heavy breath and leans on the counter. “It’s hard when you get older and everyone you love starts to leave. Or change.” 

Your heart flickers. You try not to frown too deep, “I’m sorry, Clark.” You look back down at the bowl of soaking cranberries. You take your family for granted. The might be a little toxic but they’re there. 

“Not your fault. I just... I thought I had it figured out with Lois. Everyone was happy and my mom was ecstatic,” he clutches his hands together. You meet his eyes sheepishly. “I just wanted her to be that way again. And you’re so sweet and nice.” 

“Aw, Clark. Well, you know, I should thank you. At least I’m not alone on Christmas,” you try to pep yourself up. “Um, I gotta wait for these cranberries a little long. Could I use the bathroom?” 

“Right, er, it’s just down the hall,” he points towards the second doorway that interconnects with the same hallway that leads back to the stairs. 

“Thanks,” you wipe your hands on a dishcloth and leave him with a thin smile. 

As you flit out, your chest sinks. You think of everything you’ve said since you got there, how insensitive it must have seemed. And back in the car when you complained about your mom. Ugh, he must think you’re so ungrateful. 

You close yourself in the bathroom and tend to your business. You’d been holding it since he picked you up from your building. You wash your hands, pumping the soap bottle hard to dislodge a clog in the tube. You finally finish up but find the smell of mildew stuck to your hands from the towel. 

You come out of the bathroom and look up and down the hallway. You shift to see the framed picture a bit better. Those must be his parents, and little Clark. You can’t believe he was ever that small. 

There are other pictures across the table below. A cluster of frames; class photos, impromptu snaps of memories, and posed family shots. Beneath one, there’s a slip of paper. You try not to be intrusive but the fading font catches your eye. You lean in as you tilt the frame to see the full letter, the card bent and forgotten beneath. 

‘Our condolences. We were so sorry to hear of your mother’s passing. Please do let us anything we can do for you.’ The message is signed Mallory and Chuck. You blink in confusion. Maybe it’s an old card meant for his mother; for a grandparent. 

“She died last year,” Clark startles you so you whip up and nearly tip as you stand straight. “It’s my first Christmas without her,” he continues. “I’m sorry I lied but I didn’t want to be alone.” 

You shake your head. Confusion swells through your stomach and clouds your brain. The fog clears and your eyes wander up to the ceiling. 

“Your mom?” 

“I miss her,” his voice cracks. “She took care of me.” 

“Oh, well, yeah,” you quaver unevenly. You’re reeling. Why would he lie about that? And to get you here? You’re just coworkers. “That must be hard.” 

“Mhm,” he nods and pouts. As he comes closer, you tense, wavering with his steps. “You’re not mad at me?” 

Your lips part then close. The wind whistles outside and reminds you of how isolated this place is. Clark drove you here... 

“I’m just... wondering why you need to lie,” you eke out. 

“I know it’s wrong but... if I told the truth, you might say no.” 

You nod and as he reaches for you, you wince away. You hug yourself and push your shoulders up. You swallow, “Clark, what is the truth? Why am I here?” 

He tilts his head and his eyes drift to the side. The light fades in his pupils and his jaw clenches. His fingers twiddle by his leg. 

“To be with me,” he looks at you again and smiles. A smile shadowed sinisterly beneath the worn bulb above. “You’re alone too.” 

You stare at him. Terror floods your veins and paralyses you. You want to turn and run but you won’t get far. All you can do is bide your time and hope that you can find a chance and way to get out. But for now, with him so close, so much bigger, you have to pretend. That is exactly what he asked you to do, after all. 

[lastoneout]

Okay weird poll time!

So growing up my mom was severely disabled and for various reasons did not wear makeup. That also means she did not teach me how to apply it myself, and no older woman in my life taught me either or even brought it up at all, and as this was before I had reliable access to the internet(and I was a tomboy), I just...never sought out the info myself, so I just never learned. And I've always wondered like...is this something that is normally taught by idk someone else, or does everyone just learn to do it by themselves?

So yeah, my question is:

(*forgot siblings and cousins, just put those under extended family, sorry T-T)

Additionally, was it something you had a choice about, or did whoever taught you tell you that you had to learn and start wearing it? Also was it something you wanted to do anyway? I was a tomboy and I'm butch so I didn't really like, wait excitedly until I was old enough to wear real makeup and then beg anyone to buy me some/teach me, and when I did start to "want" to it was mostly out of a desire to fit in with other women/be respected and I was terrible at it and it made me feel awful(that was dysphoria, I just didn't know) and eventually I gave up.

But yeah, I've never really seen anyone talk about this, so I'm really curious as to how people start wearing makeup since from my perspective at one point none of my friends were wearing it and then boom they all were and they were good at it and I was just standing there like "is someone supposed to teach me this or...?" and I never figured it out.

[n0vazsq]

Maneater | Pablo Gavi x Reader

pairing . . . gavi x secret!love!child!hamilton!reader

summary . . . When your biggest secret is exposed; being the secret love child of the one and only Lewis Hamilton, it seems like your life is over. But then when a boy by the name of Pablo Gavi starts liking your posts, it feels like life isn't so bad anymore

request . . . no!!

word count . . . N/A

warnings . . . none! reader is around 19-20! !! the way gavi speaks is probably not accurate but i'm too sick to fix it so !!

faceclaim . . . maria isabel!

alexavia yaps . . . whether reader is from a one night stand or from a established relationship isnt mentioned so its up to you!! DO WE WANT A PART TWO BTW?? i tried to include the lewis child lore as much as i could but like idk its more of a side plot! the last post it shitty asl but im too sick to fix it my pills are doing shit to me

f1gossip

liked by user872, user1711, user28 and 2.7M others

f1gossip 7 TIME WORLD CHAMPION LEWIS HAMILTON RUMORED TO HAVE A SECRET LOVE CHILD?! last weekend an anonymous source revealed to a popular british magazine that LEWIS HAMILTON had a 18-20 year old (age unknown) daughter! mother is still yet unknown but daughter is called y/n hamilton and has a private instagram Tagged: yourusername, lewishamilton

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username1 WHAT.

username2 excuse me???

username3 when i opened insta this was the LAST thing i expected

username4 oh jesus at first i thought she was his baby mama i got scared

username5 shes so gorgeous tho

username6 IUEYGTHSJIUHS??????

username7 WHT THE FUCKL

username8 LEWIS WHAT????? IM SO sHCOKED????

username9 MY SHAYLAAAAAAAA

username10 y/n is such a pretty name wtf? shes also so pretty sigh

username11 i mean with f1 this was bound to happen some time

username12 yeah but not NOW

username13 dawg lewis has had enough of this media shit first with the ferrari signing and now with this

username14 im giggling at the comments theyre so funny

username15 SHE USED TO GO TO MY SCHOLL??????????

username16 can lewis fight

username17 i'd think so yes

username18 TAGGING THEM IS DIABOLICAL

username19 MAMMA MIA??? MADRE MIA???

username20 i will NOT shut up about this until like 2498

username21 stop why is she so pretty

username22 THE lewis hamilton is her dad

username23 i-

username24 COME AGAIN?? WHAR???

username25 who is lewis hamilton? i got this on my feed i dont know who he is

username26 some random racer idk

username27 the comments being a mix of people freaking out and simping is so funny to me

username28 oh to have lewis hamilton's child

username29 WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF HES SO BEAUTIFUL

username30 Y/N?? YOU MEAN Y/N HAMILTON IS ACTUALLY RELATED TO LEWIS???

username31 I FOLLOW HER AND ALWAYS THOUGHT IT WAS LIKE A SIMILARITY OR SUM

username32 SHE LOOKS LIKE HIM TOO

username33 CRYING HOW HAVE I NEVER NOTICED THIS BEFORE

username34 shes living the dream

username35 i feel so bad for the girl and her mom theyre gonna get so much hate just for existing

username36 sigh i wish i was her

username37 uh whos that? IM lewis' wife

username38 babe.....

username39 this made me laugh ngl

username40 oh god i've met someone more delusional than me that's crazy

username41 FATHERRRRR (literally)

username42 IM SREAMING????

username43 I ALWAYS KNEW LEWIS WAS A DILF

username44 i'm so glad her account is private so yall creeps dont attack her

username45 someone people here are outright DISGUSTING

username46 FR like have some DECENCY this man has a family

username47 sigh i want to be as pretty as her

username48 STUNNING.

username49 can he be my step dad

username50 THE GOAT

username51 ONGGGG

username52 FRRR

username53 the next it girl i can feel it

username54 OMG what if she gets with a driver and we get y/n paddock appearances NOT ONLY as lewis' daughter but also as a wag!!!!

username55 oh!

username56 guys dont forget that they are also human beings!!!!!

username57 THE SECOND PIC IM SOBBING THATS SO CUTEEEE THOO LIKE HER MOM PROTECTING LITTLE Y/N FROM THE PAPARAZZI???

username58 id let him hit me with his car

username59 uh

username60 parents (literally)

NEW NOTIFICATION: pablogavi has started following you !

yourusername

liked by yourbsf, pablogavi, yourmother and 1.1K others

yourusername life updates since my secret got out: 1. i've blocked over 2000 gossip sites and removed over 10k people from my followers, 2. i get 50 death threats every minute, 3. my face is in the front of every magazine (in a bad way)

click to view all comments

username61 oh girl i feel so bad for you

username62 gavi in the likes????

username63 only y/n knows how to make a life crisis aesthetic

username64 and to look so pretty while doing so??

username65 queen behaviour

username66 the outfit is not a want its a NEED

username67 50 death threats every MINUTE is crazy

username68 2000??? girl i know your hands were aching

username69 did lewis say anything about this?

username70 hes gone MIA and hasnt said anything

yourbsf don't listen to them pooks, okay? theyre just jealous because youre so pretty and because your dad is THE lewis hamilton

yourusername this made me smile so wide

yourusername i love you so much its unbelievable 😔

yourbsf me too 😔

yourusername lets get married and run away forever

yourbsf yes we should

yourusername ill buy the rings

username72 im still confused on why PABLO GAVIRA is in the likes like sir this is a bad time to shoot your shot

username73 y/n x bsf/name

username74 the otp fr

username75 the lack of lewis is concerning me

username76 fr like WHERE IS HEEEEEE

yourmother you look stunning my love 🤍

yourusername thank you mama 🫶 all your genes

yourmother you flatter me so much

username77 im not crying you are

yourbsf also check my dms i sent you a little message on SOMEONE peeking in your likes

yourusername ill check out right now.....

username78 im like 109% sure its abt gavi

username79 bro who the fuck is gavi and why is he so important

username80 aww y/n looks so cute

yourfriend1 glowing 🤍

yourbsf damn right she is

yourusername oh...😊 you make me blush

yourbsf well its the truth

yourfriend1 sigh what have i done

yourbsf oi shut up let me admire my beautful girl

yourusername i love you your/bsf/name

yourbsf love you too y/n

yourfriend1 i love you so much friend/name of course we'll never leave you out you're such an amazing friend we can't appreicate it you enough 🤍

yourusername are you okay??

yourbsf girl why are you complimenting yourself

yourfriend1 wow yourfriend1 you're so loved around here <33 i'm jealous

username81 HELP IM SOBBING THEIR CONVOS ARE SO FUNNY

username82 how is she so calm wtf

username83 if she ever gets famous NEVER pr train yourbsf

username84 Y/N DONT LET THE HATE GET TO YOU WE ALL LOVE YOU!!!!!!

username85 legit royalty vibes

username86 imagine being this beautiful sigh

pablogavi ❤ Liked by creator

username87 EH???????

username88 i am JEALOUS, ENVIOUS, GREEN.

username89 GAVI????

username90 i cannot tell if they are together or if hes flirting

username91 MY man

username92 gorgeous gorgeous girl

username93 stop i feel so bad for her

username94 the hate is deserved Comment has been deleted by creator

username95 sooooo is everyone js gonna move on from gavi's comment or...?

username96 holy fuck imagine waking up one day and your biggest secret is out to the world

username97 where to buy that hair asking for a friend

username98 if i could just maul every journalist and reporter that bothers her

username99 im waiting for the fics on her nd gavi

username100 y/n how are you doing so far

yourusername could be better, feel like crying everytime i look out my window

username100 you doesnt deserve the hate babe, we all love you so much

yourusername STOP IM GOING TO CRY 🫶🥹 THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH

yourmother you really don't, gorgeous. we're all here for you

username101 every being so supportive is so sweet like yes y/n fans are the best

username102 100% agreed

username101 like we ARE the best fandom

username102 EXACTLY stan y/n fans for life

username103 dont know if i should be shocked or unsurpirsed

username104 both

username105 HER BESTFRIEND BEING THE SUPPORTIVE OLDER SISTER FIGURE MY HEARTTTTT

username106 i just know damn well lewis is on the verge of tears

username107 SHES SO GORGEOUS I CANT

username108 if lewis doesnt comment on this i will personally go over to him and force him to

username109 me and y/n are in a parasocial relationship btw

username110 y/n and gavi are my dream couple frrrr

NEW NOTIFICATION: pablogavi has liked 8 of your posts !

INSTAGRAM TEXTS BETWEEN YOU AND @yourbsf

yourusername: sooo???

yourbsf: so this footballer

yourbsf: his name is gavi

yourbsf: and he has liked 20 of your posts

yourusername: whats the problem with that tho i randomly see ppl doing that

yourbsf: he followed you after the article gossip page thing idk got out

yourbsf: THEN he commented a heart emoji which YOU liked

yourusername: what if hes an undercover journalist you never know

yourusername: besides

yourusername: i do NOT remember liking his comment 😭

yourbsf: girl what

yourbsf: he is a world wide known footballer who plays for one of the biggest clubs in the world and has more than 17 million followers

yourbsf: i dont think he'd be an undercover journalist

yourbsf: and you didn't exclude him from the 10k followers you removed after you made your acc private...

yourusername: he could still be a journalist in his secret time you never know

yourusername: running a blog then writing "xoxo gossip girl" at the end of it 😭😭😭😭

yourusername: but like in my defense

yourusername: maybe he followed while i was removing the followers and i didnt see him

yourbsf: your defense is shittier than my shit

yourbsf: y/n don't play games with me you know how i am

yourbsf: besides you have to admit you looked through his acc

yourusername: FINE ILL ADMIT IT

yourusername: hes kinda cute.....

yourusername: KINDA

yourusername: happy now??

yourbsf: yes i am happy now

yourbsf: also kinda my ass your in love with him

yourbsf: i can see your heart eyes through the screen

yourusername: yeah yeah

yourusername: if i post another post and he comments something like a heart or idk ill dm him

yourbsf: bet

yourbsf: send me screenshots

yourusername: i wont bc him commenting in one post is just a COINCEDENCE

yourbsf: say whatever you want y/n

yourbsf: we both know the truth

yourbsf: make sure to capture the whole convo

yourusername: fuck off ❤

yourbsf: see thats the same heart he commented

yourusername: throw yourself into incoming traffic i hate you

yourbsf: you dont <33

NEW NOTIFICATION: pablogavi has liked 29 of your posts !

yourusername has posted two new stories !

caption 1: 💙 // caption 2: in barca 🇪🇸

story liked by pablogavi, yourbsf, lewishamilton and 1K others

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yourbsf so youre in barca now? do i need to remind you who lives in barca too?

yourusername hush

yourbsf did he like it yet?

yourusername before you even

yourbsf and you say he doesnt like you

yourusername ITS JUST A COINCEDENCE

yourbsf keep repeating that to yourself until you believe it

yourusername die

username111 PRETYYYY

username112 in barcelona for someone specific? 👀

username113 barca boy and barca girl, couldnt have been better

username114 please be there for gavi

yourmother stunning 🫶 take care and be safe!

yourusername will do! i've given my location to bsf/name and i'll share it with you now

yourmother your father will met you there, yes?

yourusername yes! we've arranged a meeting in this fancy restaurant

yourmother don't forget to send me pictures

yourusername i won't

lewishamilton ❤ Message liked by creator

pablogavi hermosa 💙 ❤

yourusername muchas gracias 🫶

pablogavi you know spanish?

yourusername just a tiny bit

pablogavi we can meet up sometime then so i can teach you

pablogavi how long will you be here for?

yourusername around two weeks!

pablogavi better come to a match then and i'll teach you if we win

yourusername and if you lose?

pablogavi you teach me english

yourusername yours is already good though

pablogavi i could use some pratice

yourusername deal

pablogavi ill need to contact you so i can send the details

yourusername is this your way of asking for my number?

pablogavi maybe

yourusername smooth

yourusername my number is XXXXXXXX

pablogavi sent a message

yourusername "hola linda"? really?

pablogavi im just saying the truth

yourusername you amaze me

pablogavi i'm glad

username115 love is in the air eh?

username116 that fit is so adorable omgg

username117 gavi gavi gavi gavi gavi gavi

NEW NOTIFICATION: pablogavi has liked 11 of your posts and 39 highlights !

NEW NOTIFICATION: lewishamlton has started following you !

yourusername

liked by pablogavi, yourbsf, lewishamilton and 1.2K others

yourusername when in barcelona 💙 ❤ VISCA EL BARCA Tagged: fcbarcelona, lewishamilton

click to view all comments

username118 y/n tell us everything that happened please

yourusername this is gonna be a long one

yourusername so i went to barca to discuss some legal and press stuff with my father then i got invited to attend a barcelona match in a deal to exchange language knowledge and they won so now i am receiving help in learning spanish

username118 thats a lot to take in....? anyway what happened with lewis??

yourusername he and my mother will try to get back together but until then they both own custody over me and now i am officialy lewis hamilton's daughter for real and you might see me in the paddock

username119 Y/N PADDOCK APPEARANCES LETS FUCKING GOOOO

username120 YES YES YES YES i dont understand why in barcelona but yeah IM SO HAPPY

yourbsf i love you so much gorgeous i hope you had funn

yourusername i love you more my beloved princess 🫶 i had so much fun but it'd be so much better with you

yourbsf i'll be hopping on a plane soon trust me

yourusername until then someone else will keep me company

yourbsf oh?

yourmother i'm glad you had fun in barcelona darling! i love you so much and tell your father that i said hi!

lewishamilton ❤❤

yourusername 🫶

username121 STOPP MY HEART CANT TAKE THIS LIKE ANOTHER BOMB DROPPING ON US FROM Y/N??? STOP

username122 girl is not even tryna hide it

username123 bro is NOT slick

username124 IKR???

username125 atp i think she WANTS us to know

username126 omg i died watching the match bc VISCA BARCA RAHHH

barcapix she's a maneater make you buy cars make you cut cards make you fall real hard in love

username127 SHES A CULER?? NOOOOOOOOOOOOO

username128 DID ANYONE SEE GAVI POINTING AT THE STANDS??

username129 YESSS OMG I LEGIT PASSED OUT

username130 THEYRE SUCH CUTIESSS AHHH

nicorosberg welcome to the family y/n, expect christmas gifts from me

yourusername thank you nico! will do!

username131 FUCK OFF

username132 NICO MOTHERFUCKING ROSBERG SAYING WELCOME TO THE FAMILY?????

username133 BROCEDES IS REAL HERES THE CONFORMATION

username134 this post might be the biggest headline of the 21st century

username135 ISYG BAJJHSSYHSUJKKIUHBHNJWMK

username136 I JUST CAME BACK FROM SUMMER CAMP WTF??? IS THIS HOW I FIND OUT LEWIS HAS A DAUGHTER AND SHE MIGHT BE DATIGNG GAVI???

username137 screaming crying throwing up

username138 killing myself because of this

username139 wait for me

username140 they should get a reality show

yourbsf take care of my baby sister, sir lewis hamilton. i trust you with her, dont disappoint me

lewishamilton dont worry, i wont. i love her more than anything

yourbsf good

username141 are we going to ignore this or what

username142 we have more important things to worry about (aka gavi)

username143 girl at least be subtle

username144 i wish i was rich

username145 HALA MADRID

username146 lets make this an actual book bc wtf

username147 so like when will it be my turn

username148 weirdest story of this centruy

username149 no lies said

username150 gavi liked and he didnt comment hmmmm

username151 oh jolly this is so beautiful

username152 THE AESTHETIC ATE UPPPPPP

username153 gavi on holiday with the hamilton family????

username154 who knows maybe we'll never know

username155 the whole family is so gorgeous wtff

username156 your honour i love them

pablogavi did you enjoy the match?

yourusername yes a lot! thanks for inviting me!!

pablogavi i'm glad you enjoyed it, see you next time maybe?

yourusername we'll see if my schedule is clear

pablogavi let me know then

username157 EXCUSE ME??????

username158 so he invited her so he can teach her spanish but then is asking her out again?????

username159 oh to be rich

username160 living vicarously through her wtf

username161 sigh i wish i was y/n or even just like a part of the hamilton family a servant even

username162 id LOVE to be her maid or sum

username163 Y/N GIVE US GAVI CONTENT !!!!!!!!!

username164 REAL

username165 im STARVING for lewis pics

username166 to be hot and have a hot boyfriend is the LIFE (idc that it isnt confirmed she basically hard launched with that pic)

yourbsf i guess those pictures you nearly killed yourself to take of the stadium were worth it after all

yourusername they always are and besides i just tripped over a loose concrete slab

yourbsf they dont leave them lying around like that stop lying

yourusername how about no ❤

yourbsf ill leak our dms

yourusername the dms in which you blackmailed and gaslighted me

yourmother what blackmail??

yourusername YOU DONT NEED TO KNOW

yourbsf it was basically when y/n was

yourusername STOPPPP youve had enough already

yourbsf ive gotten ZERO updates on the situation this entire trip y/n

yourusername BECAUSE THERE WERENT ANY

yourusername there were but i wont tell you until i come back because its vocal updates not text-ual updates

yourbsf i see i see

yourbsf WELL HURRY THE FUCK UP AND COME BACK

username167 this is the meaning of chaos

username168 PURE HAVOC

username169 now i understand why y/n's mother never lets them be together OR apart for more than 48 hours

username170 we NEED to know about the updates wtf

username171 gavi and y/n sitting in a tree

username172 id sell my left kidney to get them together

username173 THE AESHETIC. MOTHER Y/N ATEEE

username174 on my fucking knees for her

username176 id die and come back just to experience these photos

username177 our queen is gaining fame dni

username178 is it bad that im making heart eyes at her

username179 totally not, i too am making heart eyes at y/n hamilton

username180 my beloved girl and her barcelona boy sigh

lewishamilton

liked by yourusername, yourbsf, yourmother and 28.7M others

lewishamilton reunited 🤍 i would rather her boyfriend didn't come but anything for my princess Tagged: yourusername

comments on this post have been limited

yourusername aww thank you 🤍

lewishamilton anything for you

yourmother i'm glad you're enjoying the trip! send me lots of pics of y/n and her boyfriend for my photo album

lewishamilton will do! when you finish it send me a copy!

yourmother of course ❤

pablogavi congrats! Liked by creator

yourbsf sooo uncle sir lewis hamilton will you be able to take me to the paddock?

lewishamilton sure?

yourbsf great time to convince some drivers to marry me

yourusername youre literally 20

yourbsf and? i don't mind an age difference

yourusername try f2

yourbsf good idea but only the ones that are 20 or above i don't want to be a predator

yourusername or maybe become a wag of a diff sport like football

yourbsf so i can take the same path as you? This reply has been deleted

yourbsf i'll see

yourusername great!

lewishamilton should i be concerned?

yourusername no!!

lewishamilton alright....

nicorosberg congratulations

yourusername soooo will he able to come to family gatherings one day??

yourmother sure!

lewishamilton no

lewishamilton i mean sure whatever your mother says is best

yourbsf should i say it

yourusername DONT you dare

yourbsf fine

yourmother but won't your boyfriend be long distance? since... well you know

yourusername i didn't think of that

lewishamilton i did

yourusername YOULL FLY HIM OUT>??

lewishamilton no

yourusername brb going to sob my ass off

yourbsf great tactic uncle sir lewis hamilton now she'll tell me everything about them

lewishamilton thank you?

yourbsf you're welcome!!

INSTAGRAM TEXTS BETWEEN YOU AND @pablogavi

pablogavi: i'll miss seeing you in the stands

yourusername: i'll miss being in them

pablogavi: i think you're my good luck charm

pablogavi: make sure to watch our matches

yourusername: who knew the pablo gavira could be so cheesy??

yourusername: but i will

yourusername: i think i'm starting to like football now

pablogavi: you should

pablogavi: since you'll be coming to more matches now

yourusername: oh?

yourusername: well i'll be waiting for my tickets

yourusername: and make sure they don't overlap with the f1 races

pablogavi: don't worry about that

pablogavi: i'll have everything sorted out for you

yourusername: such a gentleman

pablogavi: only for the best

yourusername: you flatter me

pablogavi: they say its not flattery if its true

yourusername: what did i get myself into

yourusername: you're so sappy it's cute atp

yourusername: but anyway

yourusername: my flight leaves in 30 minutes so i have to go now

pablogavi: cute? i'll take it

pablogavi: text me when you land

yourusername: i will !!

pablogavi: have a safe flight carino

pablogavi: i'll call you asap

yourusername: gracias hermoso

yourusername: can't wait for it

yourusername has posted two new stories !

caption 1: i think i love him 🤍// caption 2: goodbye barca, i'll miss you 🇪🇸

story liked by pablogavi, yourbsf, yourmother and 1.1K others

to be continued....?

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaaa ,, @notm4d1 ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @bernalswifeyy ,, @nngkay ,, @justaf1girl ,, @iamred-iamyellow (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

[velvetvexations]

I'd like to add something to the topic of forced impregnation / corrective rape of transmascs & men.

One thing I feel like other people tend to believe is that trans people with uteruses / the capability to get pregnant are "extremising" a problem that really only affects a few select trans people, surely not a lot.

What they don't get is that we're not extremising anything. Even just on the topic of forced pregnancy, I know barely a single trans man who hasn't been told that getting pregnant would fix him or that his whole worth as a person with a uterus is measured in how many children he can pop out at best, or being straigh up threatened with it or at worst having someone actually attempt to or fully act on that threat. And the ones who it didn't happen to? They know full well that it's always a "it didn't happen yet". That threat is still there, even without anyone saying it. People don't have to outright say it or threaten us because we just know.

It's not something we made up as a "gotcha" to trans women. In fact, it has nothing to do with most trans women at all, safe for the ones who can get pregnant! It's our lived experience. Our every-day life.

I was thirteen, just started my period, when my mother started to try to convince me that my whole worth as a person was making babies, that I needed to make kids the second I'd turn eighteen, that I would otherwise waste my life. And no, she didn't actually think that of all women. My cis sister? Never got to hear any of that. Just me. Because my mother looked at me being masculine and saw something she needed to fix (by only buying me extremely sexualised feminine outfits and telling me the stuff mentioned above, and that it was "only that" makes me one of the lucky ones). It happened to me not just because I was born with a uterus, because then it would've happened to my sister, too. It happened because my mother could tell something was "wrong" with me because I was too masculine. Got a little too exited when people mistook me for my brother. She didn't know what transmasculinity was back then in name, but she absolutely did know that it was "wrong" and needed to be "fixed" - and the way to fix a "broken woman" is to get her pregnant. She, of course, couldn't do that back then, but she could do her best to try to make me do that once I was "old enough" (I'm very glad today that she failed.)

And basically every trans men I've talked with about that topic had their own story like that or much, much worse. Only very rarely has a transmasc/man not experienced something like that, and even then, the threat is so omnipresent that even they tend to know exactly what I'm talking about.

It's a horrifying truth, it's uncomfortable, but it needs to be talked about. Our pain has been ignored and swept under the rug for so long, and people are still continuing to do so. So they can keep telling themselves that we "don't have it that bad" that we're "making a deal out of nothing" that what happens to us is just "individual cases" not something targeted. Because if people don't listen, they don't have to admit to themselves how they're playing into our oppression. Because to this day my mother is still claiming that she supports the trans community, after she did everything in her power to stop her son from existing. She won't listen to what I have to say because it "wasn't that bad", and my sister turned out great, so what do I have to cry about?

Nobody listens to trans men in general because it's never "as bad" as we make it out to be. After all, a cis woman said it wasn't that bad and she'll always be more believable than what ever a trans man or transmasculine person has to say. A trans man could obviously never experience anything a cis woman in his situation wouldn't.

This got longer than I anticipated. Thank you for listening and talking about this topic. I appreciate you, your work here is incredibly important and I'm glad you do this. Take care, and have a nice day!

(Also, this whole assumption about us "extremising" and "making a big thing out of nothing" also sounds a bit like hysteria talk to me, especially given that our conversation is about uterus-related things, but I might be reading to much into it here.)

the issue is that TRFs will take all this as "so you're saying that means trans men have it worse than trans women?"

like noooooooo you invented that sentence! that was nowhere in the original text girliepop!

[krirebr]

Updated 4/27/25

Tag lists are open

Here is a current list of all of the work I've posted here. I write mostly for Chris Evans characters and all of my stories are intended for an 18+ audience. Minors please DNI.

Requests are closed but my asks are always open! Come riff with me or send asks/what ifs about any of my works! But no NSFW GIFs, please and thank you! 💜

🖤 Dark 🩶 Soft!Dark 😥 Angst 🥵 Smut ⭐️New/Updated

Trapped AU

Andy keeps telling you how lucky you are that he chose you to be his wife. 🖤 😥

Head Over Heels

All Cole wants is someone to share eternity with. He won't stop looking until he finds them.

I Know I Should Know Better series

Curtis has been working as your body guard for almost two years now. Standing by and watching you work and party your life away is becoming more and more difficult, but is there anything he can do about it? 😥🥵

Heads Will Roll series

Training to be a slayer becomes even more difficult when you must hit the road with two hunters for your own safety.

Luck Be a Lady

Desperate for money, you accept a job as a cocktail waitress at an underground casino. You think you know what you're doing, but when you meet Curtis, will you realize you're in over your head? 🩶🥵

Still Life series

Curtis has been volunteering as a foster alpha for three years now. He's never seen a case this bad... 😥

Drabbles & Headcanons

Curtis + soft!dark + soothe 🖤

Curtis Takes the Snowpiercer 🖤🥵

Curtis + Possessive 🥵

Just Part of the Process - I Know I Should Know Better AU - Actor!Curtis Everett x PA!Reader 😥

Heads Will Roll series

Training to be a slayer becomes even more difficult when you must hit the road with two hunters for your own safety.

Drabbles & Headcanons

Relax

A Merry Little Christmas

Killing Moon

When you and your boyfriend steal something without fully realizing who you are stealing from, you're sent on a cross-country adventure by an ally you're pretty sure you shouldn't trust.

Giving Me a Thrill

A few years after your divorce, a friend gives you a nudge to try something new.

Psycho Killer AU

A drunken dare and chance encounter jump-starts a whole new life. 🖤🥵

Dance Hall Days - Steve Rogers x Ransom Drysdale

Ransom meets a man in a bar who seems like he'll be fun for a night or two 🖤🥵😥

More Than This series

Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn. 😥⭐️

I'm Feeling Like I Never Should

It's bad enough you've been forced to be at this charity gala, but now you have to deal with your ex, Ransom.

Lips Like Sugar

Finally cut off by his mother and grandfather, Ransom has to find a new way to access the lifestyle he's accustomed to. He figures it won't be too hard to find some rich old lady willing to bankroll him in exchange for sex. You aren't exactly what he expected. ⭐️

Drabbles & Headcanons

Jealous Ex Ransom

Sequel 🥵

End

No Way of Knowing - More Than This What If 😥

What You Can Do For Your Country

Being Captain America is a lot harder than anyone realizes. Steve thinks you might be able to help. 🖤

Everybody Wants to Rule the World series

Your vacation comes to an end when a powerful and mysterious man gets his first taste. 🖤🥵

Dance Hall Days - Steve Rogers x Ransom Drysdale

Ransom meets a man in a bar who seems like he'll be fun for a night or two

All Things Go series

It's been a few months since Steve was pulled out of the ice and immediately had to fight aliens with the newly formed Avengers. He is doing fine with all that, all things considered. Which is why he's so upset when he's suddenly benched from missions and forced to welcome a support omega into his home. He's fine! 😥

Drabbles & Headcanons

Arranged Marriage Steve Headcanon

Tell Me One Thing - More Than This What If 😥

What if Reader was into it? - What You Can Do For Your Country What If 🖤

We're All Monsters

Multi-character, multi-reader vampire AU 🖤😥🥵

[sophsbookstore]

Floral Encounters

Charles Leclerc x Florist!reader ｡･:*˚:✧｡

Masterlist can be found in navigation!

Word count: 1340

A/N: lmaoooo i've been gone for a really..really long time…but guys we are so back! New year, new fanfics that need to be written. Requests are still very much open if you have anything you wanna see, sorry for the absence and happy reading!! <33

The little flower shop nestled on a quiet street in Monaco was a peaceful haven among the hustle and bustle of the city. Inside, the soft scent of roses and lilies mixed with the gentle hum of classical music playing from an old speaker in the corner. The owner, Y/N, was behind the counter, arranging the last few bouquets of the day. She loved her shop, the routine of it, the way it allowed her to be surrounded by beauty every day. But most of all, she loved the chance encounters—those small moments where someone new would come in, buying flowers for loved ones, or sometimes for no reason at all.

It was a Tuesday afternoon when he first walked in.

Charles Leclerc.

He had been a familiar face on the streets of Monaco for years, though Y/N had never had the chance to meet him. She had seen him in passing at a café or two, but nothing that could spark a conversation. She couldn’t say she was a huge fan of Formula 1, but she knew enough to recognize the man who had become a hero to so many in the city.

He stepped into the shop, the doorbell chiming as it swung open, and for a moment, Y/N was taken aback. She quickly composed herself and flashed him a friendly smile.

“Hello, can I help you with anything?” Y/N asked the man in front of her

Charles paused for a second, as if processing her presence. His green eyes flicked over the shelves filled with flowers, before landing on her. His lips curved upward in a small, charming smile.

“I need a bouquet,” he said, his accent thick but easy to understand. “Something... for my mother.”

Y/N nodded, stepping forward to guide him. “We have a variety of roses, peonies, maybe some tulips... what’s the occasion?”

He scratched the back of his neck, clearly trying to find the right words. “No real occasion. I just wanted to do something nice for her.”

The simplicity of it made Y/N’s heart flutter a little. He wasn’t here for a birthday or an anniversary. Just because. That kind of thoughtfulness was rare. She tilted her head slightly, studying him for a second before offering a suggestion.

“Well, if you’re looking for something elegant, I’d recommend a mix of white roses and lilies. They’re classic, timeless.”

Charles raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching as if he was amused by the suggestion. “Timeless, huh? I like the sound of that.”

Y/N gave a small laugh and picked out a few stems, expertly arranging them in a hand-tied bouquet. “The lilies symbolize purity, and the roses... well, they symbolize admiration and love. Perfect for a mother, don’t you think?”

He leaned against the counter, watching her work with an intensity that made her feel a little warmer than usual. “Sounds like you know your flowers,” he said with a grin.

“I’ve been doing this for a while,” Y/N replied, her fingers moving with practiced precision as she wrapped the bouquet in parchment paper. “You get to learn a lot when you’re surrounded by them every day.”

When she was finished, she handed him the bouquet. “Here you go. I hope she loves it.”

Charles took the bouquet, his fingers brushing against hers for a moment, sending a small jolt through her. He didn’t pull away right away. Instead, he looked down at the flowers, his expression softening.

“I’m sure she will,” he said quietly. Then, as if thinking of something, he added with a teasing smirk, “You’ve made this a bit hard to top. Do you take requests?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What do you have in mind?”

“I might need you to help me with another bouquet next week,” he said, his gaze lingering on hers just a little longer than necessary. “But... this time, it might be for someone special.”

Y/N grinned, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “I’d be happy to help,” she said, her voice lighter now, more playful. “Maybe I’ll even throw in a little extra flair for someone special.”

Charles gave her a wink and turned toward the door. “I’ll hold you to that,” he said with a laugh before leaving the shop, the bell above the door ringing again.

The days turned into weeks, and Charles kept his word. Every time he raced in Monaco or elsewhere, he would come into the shop, often with a similar request. Sometimes it was for his mother, sometimes for a friend, and sometimes, he hinted that it was for someone else entirely.

After a particularly thrilling race where he finished second, Charles returned to the shop, his eyes practically glowing with excitement. He was still wearing his racing gear, and Y/N couldn’t help but notice how different he looked outside the car—his intense, competitive energy replaced with something a little more... relaxed.

“Back for more flowers?” Y/N asked as he entered, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

He nodded, though there was a certain hesitation in his usual confident stance. “Yes, but this time, I’m celebrating something special.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, walking over to him. “Oh? What are you celebrating?”

Charles paused, glancing around the shop as if to gather his thoughts. Then, his gaze landed on hers, and a flicker of something unspoken passed between them.

“I’m celebrating getting to see you again,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

Her heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t the first time he’d said something like that, but hearing it now, in such a direct way, made it feel like something new.

Y/N smiled, feeling a flutter of excitement in her chest. “Well, that’s a good reason to celebrate.”

He grinned, stepping closer to the counter. “I think so.” He leaned in just a little, lowering his voice. “What do you think? Another bouquet, just to make it official?”

Y/N considered him for a moment, her fingers brushing against a vase of lilies nearby. “I think you’re getting pretty good at this... but how about we make it even more official?”

Charles raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “What do you mean?”

Her smile widened, and she set down the flowers she was holding. “How about you let me buy you dinner?”

He blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback for a second. Then, the corner of his mouth lifted into a grin. “You’re asking me out?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” Y/N teased, her eyes dancing with mischief.

Charles chuckled softly, his eyes not leaving hers. “Not at all.” He leaned forward just a bit more, his voice quieter. “I’d love to have dinner with you.”

Y/N’s heart raced, but she didn’t let the excitement show too much. “It’s a date, then,” she said with a wink.

The dinner was set for a few days later, at a small, intimate restaurant by the harbor. Charles showed up in a simple button-up shirt and jeans, looking effortlessly handsome. They shared stories over a bottle of wine, laughing at each other's jokes and enjoying the easy, warm atmosphere between them. The night ended with a stroll along the water, hand in hand, both of them silently agreeing that it was the beginning of something new.

Charles looked at Y/N, his expression soft. “You know, I’ve been to Monaco many times, but I think this is the first time I’ve really felt like I’m home.”

Y/N smiled, squeezing his hand gently. “Well, I’m glad I could be a part of that.”

“I think you’re going to be part of a lot of things in my life,” he said, his voice sincere.

She couldn’t help but smile at the thought, her heart full. “I’m looking forward to it, Charles. I really am.”

And as the stars twinkled overhead, they both knew that this was just the beginning.

[nvxzaa]

── .✦ Simple thing

Masterlist

Pairing : Han Jisung x reader

Word : 828

Genre : fluff

Warning : none

It had been a year and a half since they'd been together. A year and a half since Han had fallen in love with a girl like few others: Yn. A girl so simple it was almost disconcerting.

She never wore brand names, never went crazy for luxury items, never asked for anything. She lived with little, and was sincerely happy about it. That was the beauty of it. The most disarming. Han, who had seen it all, experienced it all, owned it all... he'd been marked by it. By this simplicity that could not be faked. Yn calculated nothing. She was content with what she had, and she did it with such touching naturalness that it was enough to turn his heart inside out.

And yet, despite that-or because of it-she hadn't wanted him at first.

"You're an idol, Han."

She'd looked him straight in the eye as she said this, arms crossed and face serious.

"You're just the opposite of me. I have a normal life. I'm simple. You don't need someone like me."

But he'd just smiled. Because he already knew he wanted her. He hadn't let go. He'd insisted, redoubled his efforts, found a thousand excuses to bump into her, a thousand pretexts to talk to her. It had taken weeks for her simply to give him her number, and even longer for her to agree to see him again. And today, every second spent with her reminded him why he'd fought. Yn was his peace.

That day, he received a call in the middle of the afternoon.

- Hello?" he answered, his voice still a little sleepy.

- Han... I've got something to ask you. A bit embarrassing...

From her voice alone, he knew she was uncomfortable.

- Have you been crying? What's the matter, baby?" he asked, straightening up on his bed.

- No... no, it's nothing serious. I'm just embarrassed to ask you this.

- Don't worry, tell me.

A little silence.

- Would you like to... buy me something? I'm really sorry to ask this, I swear I'll pay you back as soon as I can. But I don't have any change on me, and my mom took my card...

Han frowned, confused.

- Wait, what? Your mother took your card? But you're over 18, you've been vaccinated, you're working, you've got your own income, how can she take away your bank card?

- I don't know... it's my mother. She says I make too many successive purchases... successive? Is that how you say it?

- ...Yeah, I think so," he replied, smiling in spite of himself.

- There you go. So she took my card. And I just wanted to buy a little something. I swear, it's nothing. And I'll give you the money back, I promise.

Han breathed softly.

- Yn... you've got to stop apologizing for existing, you know. Come to the dormitory. I'll give you my card. And you don't have to pay me back.

- Are you sure...?

- I'm in love, not stupid. Come on.

A little later, she arrived at the dormitory in an old hoodie that hung over her shoulders, a crumpled tote bag in her hand. He opened the door and immediately drew her into his arms. She snuggled in without saying a word. Her perfume smelled of fresh sheets and hand cream. He kissed her hair before taking out his card.

- Here. Go buy your "little things". Take your time.

She left after a final kiss on his cheek.

He received no messages for two hours. Then she returned, exactly as she had left. Except that she was holding a large glass jar in her arms, which she placed carefully on the table before handing him back his card.

- Thanks Han...

- Stop it... tell me what you bought.

- Felt-tip pens," she replied with a small smile.

- ...Felt-tips?

- Yeah, felt-tips. All mine are dead. They're for coloring. And... I made something for you.

She gently pushed the glass jar towards him. Inside, hundreds of tiny pink paper hearts, all meticulously folded, filled the jar to the rim.

- A heart for every day I've thought of you. Right from the start. I used to make them on the sly, on the nights you didn't sleep at home, when you were on tour, or in the studio.

He stood there, mouth open, completely flabbergasted.

- You used my card... to buy markers?

- Well, yes. I told you it wasn't much...

He looked at her, then at the jar, then at her again. Then, without a word, he stood up to take her in his arms, squeezing her so hard she had to tell him to breathe.

- You have no idea how much I love you.

- If you keep squeezing like that, I won't even have enough air left to say "me too", she murmured with a smile.

He laughed softly against her, his heart swelling with quiet, immense, simple love - just like her.

[rosecoloredsunshine]

come and find me now — kyle spencer

masterlist | request link

PAIRINGS: post-death!kyle spencer x female!reader

SUMMARY: you knew that there was something wrong that's going to happen the moment zoe brought kyle back to his mother, so you took the matters into your own hands.

REMINDERS: please be reminded that this is a work of fiction. meaning that all events and occurrences in this story are all fictional and all are part of my imagination. any resemblance to actual life events and people, living or dead, are all purely coincidence.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, mentions of death (minor), reader is a witch, there are some inaccuracies, angst, hurt, comfort, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i've been very busy this week, reason why i haven't posted any fics. but i have a free time now, so i'll try to post the other fics (mostly requests). to the one who requested this, i hope it's up to your standards. enjoy! :)

The garden at Miss Robichaux’s was quiet today, magnolia trees swaying gently as their petals floated to the earth like snow. You sat beneath one of them, fingers grazing the yellowing page of an old spellbook. You were always reading, always observing. The world moved fast around you, too loud and too careless, but you took your time. You listened and you learned.

You knew things. Things the others didn't and couldn't notice, like how Queenie tapped her foot when she was lying, or how Cordelia’s smile never quite reached her eyes anymore. You definitely knew that Zoe Benson had done something reckless, the energy around her had changed that night she and Madison came back from that frat party. There was a stillness to her now, like she was holding her breath, and it wasn't long before she confided in you.

“We brought someone back,” she whispered, looking over her shoulder as though the walls might be listening. “His name is Kyle. He died, and we used resurgence.”

Your heart dropped like a boulder in your chest. A resurrection spell—a dangerous and volatile magic. Forbidden unless under direct order of the Supreme, and even then, only if it was clean, but this wasn't. You already knew that without needing to ask, though you also knew Zoe wasn't strong enough to pull it off alone.

“He didn't deserve what happened to him,” she says, voice thin and trembling. “He was a good person.”

You believe her. That's the thing, Zoe never lies, not really. She just wants to fix things, and she thought bringing Kyle back would fix it. But you also know magic like that comes with a cost. You saw it in Kyle’s eyes the day she brought him back, there was nothing behind them.

Then Misty got involved, and you understood that too. She’s a wild soul—Misty, but she knows resurrection better than anyone. You could sense her magic clinging on Kyle like vines, but still, Misty couldn't restore what had been broken. Not entirely.

The broken pieces of a boy sewn back together like some patchwork doll. The only part of him that was truly him was his head, but the rest? It was a collage of other bodies. No wonder the soul had trouble finding peace, no wonder Kyle screamed more than he spoke. His body wasn't home anymore, it was a cage. He didn't speak, he grunted, sobbed, and lashed out. There were days he sat curled up in the greenhouse, rocking himself, murmuring things that didn't make any sense.

You would always watch him from afar. You wanted to help, but he flinched at everything that wasn't Zoe.

“I’m taking him back to his mother,” she whispered to you one day. “He needs someone, someone familiar.”

You stared at her like she had grown a second head. “You can’t do that, Zoe.”

You had seen the bruises on his spirit, and it’s not the kind magic could heal. The kind left by years of secrets, you saw the way his entire body locked up when Zoe mentioned his home.

“She loves him,” she insisted. “She’ll help.”

You didn't agree, but you didn't fight her. Instead, you just watched her go, and something in your chest wouldn't settle for that.

It was like an itch you couldn't scratch, a scream you couldn't let out. Days passed, and you decided to keep your mouth shut, hands busy. But the silence got louder, it clawed your insides, gnawed at your thoughts. Then one morning, you woke up drenched in sweat, heart pounding, and you knew—something was wrong. You didn't tell anyone, so you grabbed your keys and drove.

The Spencer house sat tucked in a sleepy New Orleans neighborhood, all peeling paint and dying hydrangeas, a hollow place. The front door was open, so you let yourself in. The house was quiet, not peaceful, but dead. There were dishes in the sink, a chair knocked over, and a picture frame shattered. The air also reeked of copped and rot and something else—something grief-stricken.

You heard it. A sob that is raw, broken, and animalistic. It led you down the hall, past family photos that made your skin crawl. Smiling faces, Kyle’s too, but younger and innocent, not yet touched by death or magic or cruelty. The sobbing got louder as you walked towards the sound, you then pushed the door, and there Kyle was—curled into himself on the bloodstained carpet, his finger torn and red. The wall behind him splattered with it, and his face wasn't just blood on him, it was grief.

You saw her mother slumped on the floor, lifeless. You didn't look at her long, you only saw Kyle. He didn't see you at first, he was trembling, rocking, chest heaving with ragged sobs. Every breath sounded like it hurt. When you moved towards him, his head snapped up, eyes wild and desperate.

Kyle didn't speak, he couldn't. But the look on his face broke your heart. You dropped to your knees beside him, not caring about the blood, not caring about anything except the boy that is in front of you.

“I’m here,” you said softly, reaching for him. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

He let out a strangled noise, somewhere between a sob and a scream, and then he collapsed against you. His arms wrapped around your waist, body shaking with silent horror. You held him tighter as the blood soaked into your shirt, you didn't flinch.

“It’s not your fault,” you whispered, over and over. “I know. I know.”

Because you did. You knew what she did to him, what his mother was. You could feel it in the walls of this place, the ghosts and shadows. You held him until he stopped shaking.

You quickly got to work. It was frantic, messy, and desperate. You didn't think, you just moved like a robot. Bleach, towels, garbage bags—you knew how to make things disappear. You have seen enough in this life to know what the world doesn't want to look at. By the time the sun began to set, you were done.

You stood in front of him, blood still under your nails, and offered your hand. “Come with me,” you said. “You don’t have to stay here, I’ll take care of you.”

Kyle’s eyes were wet, lost. But he took your hand.

Once you were both back, you brought him to your room, where it was quiet and safe. You set up a cot beside your bed, but when you turned around, Kyle was already curled on your comforter, clinging to your pillow like it was a lifeline.

You smiled softly. “Okay, you can stay there.”

You dimmed the lights and slipped in beside him, unsure of when the last time he’d had real sleep. In the quiet of the night, you felt his finger reach out for yours. He didn't speak, he didn't have to.

“I’ll protect you,” you whispered into the dark. “I know what it’s like to have a body that remembers pain, but we’ll unlearn it. Together.”

Kyle pressed his forehead to your shoulder, and for the first time, his breathing was steady. You didn't tell anyone that he’s back, at least not yet. Not until he was ready. You would teach him again—how to speak, write, and most importantly, how to live. Then, maybe in time, how to trust.

You were the quiet one, the one who knew everything, and now, you knew what love looked like in its rawest form—it is the broken boy that is in your bed right now.

You promise that you would never let him break again.

© rosecoloredsunshine, 2025

[alottanothing]

This is for @twola, who, about a week ago was having a bad day and wanted someone to write a snip of Arthur beating the shit out of someone who made the reader cry; with the addition of some smutty goodness, of course.

Well, this is the first time I've written publically for our dear cowboy Arthur Morgan. And I simply cannot write anything considered a 'snip'. So here's what my brain calls a snip; over 5k words just for you, twola. I hope this makes up for the bad say you had last week. :)

And shout out to my partner in writing crime, @itswormtrain, for making this readable!

Warnings: mentions of blood, violence, smut (18+ MDNI), oral (f!reader receiving)

The sun was beginning to set over the peaceful hills and sprawling trees of Cumberland Forest. Those lingering traces of daylight caress the rugged terrain with whimsy, casting shadows that dance over the dirt path under the hooves of your young stallion. Nature seemed to pause in reverence as the sun gracefully lowered itself behind the distant mountains; the only sound was that of your horse's steady walk and the murmuring babble of the Dakota River in the distance.

It had been too long since you’d enveloped yourself in such tranquility, seemingly always at the receiving end of Miss Grimshaw’s scalding. Any anticipation of exploring the wilderness or going on jobs with the guys was always overshadowed by the necessity of chores.

When you’d joined the ranks of the Van der Linde Gang, you had hoped you’d garner a little more excitement than a seemingly endless cycle of laundry, cooking, and mending. Sure, the mess in Black Water and the threat of the law constantly at everyone’s heels was a form of excitement, concerning, but still excitement. Though, things had died down since all that, and Horseshoe Overlook was truly an awe-inspiring place to call home for the time being. Even so, camp chores remained deeply understimulating.

In truth, you were just antsy; you always were when Arthur was away for more than a couple of days. Your mind always thought the worst, despite knowing your handsome outlaw was more than capable of handling himself on jobs and in the wilds. But that nagging concern never ceases to occupy your mind. His absence at camp was never more cumbersome than when Grimshaw was barking out instructions, or when Uncle’s drunken singing was so off-key, it scraped against your brain like a rusty old knife. You simply couldn’t stand it anymore; you needed peace and quiet—something to scratch that itching thought in the back of your head.

Admittedly, you hadn’t planned to venture so far from camp, or any sort of civilization for that matter. The towering ramparts of Fort Wallace were in your sights before you decided to turn back. Were it not for the shotgun secured in its holster on your saddle, the late hour would have left you feeling considerably more anxious. Arthur had taught you well, and instilled in you enough confidence not to worry as you trot down the dirt path toward Valentine.

There wasn’t a single soul to be seen for the majority of your journey; your only company that of your horse and Mother Nature’s comforting embrace. You almost hated the far-off glow of a town in the distance, over the crest of a hill. Soon you’d be back at camp with nothing to do but laundry and fret over your lover's absence.

“Pardon me, miss.” You nearly jump from your saddle hearing the strange man’s voice. “Thank god for you, would you mind – too terribly – giving me a ride back to town?”

Your heart skips a warning in your chest as you look around, where did he come from? The question dances in your head as you fight to form the words you want. This was O’Driscoll country—a notion you were suddenly very aware of, and your eyes glance at the rifle still tucked securely in the holster on your saddle.

“I was thrown from my horse, ya see—wild beast took off without me. ‘Fraid I hurt my ankle when I fell.” He explained, garnering a wave of sympathy that clouded the caution in your gut.

The stranger wasn’t dressed in the usual black and green of Colm’s gang: just simple trousers and a dirty work shirt and boots. What could it hurt?

“Yeah, alright,” you said, giving the man a faint smile.

“Oh, bless you, miss. Bless you,” the look of relief on his features did well to settle the remainder of the apprehension swirling in your stomach.

With a firm grip, you steadied your horse so the man could climb on, offering your hand to help him up.

And that act of kindness was your mistake.

His grip on your wrist was like a vice, painful, as he yanks you from your horse's saddle, your boots nearly getting hung on the stirrups. A sinister laugh echoes through the tall trees, splitting the serenity with the jagged sound of malice. Your stallion rears and cries, spooked by the abrupt movement, but the stranger is quick to steady him, forcing your horse into a full gallop toward the glow of Valentine leaving you where you fell.

When the shock wears off, you aren’t sure which was stronger, the wave of anger that envelopes you, or the sudden fear of solitude that brings forth the steady stream of tears down your cheeks. Both feelings were justified, you figure. That, and how utterly foolish you feel for trusting a stranger.

You knew better. Your time with the Van der Lindes taught you not to trust anyone, at least not someone on the side of the road pretending to be hurt. That was the oldest trick in the book. One you’d used several times to con someone out of something. Now, you were out a horse and a shotgun.

When the landscape grew darker as night fell, those shadows that you once looked on with awe and majesty, now loom sinisterly.

Stupid! You scolded yourself, more tears searing down your face. It would be dawn before you made it back to camp on foot; if you made it back to camp at all.

Without the security of your shotgun at hand, your confidence in making it home unscathed was growing short. Animals lurked in the trees around you; monsters both beast and man would undoubtedly set their teeth on you if they found you alone and without the means to protect yourself.

A shiver surges through you, a combination of the onslaught of fear and the chill from the mud you’d landed in. If you’d been riding with Arthur, no one would have the gall to steal from him. And if they did, they surely wouldn’t live long enough to get far out of reach.

You wipe the mud from your hands to your skirts before swiping at the tears staining your face. Maybe someone from camp would notice you hadn’t returned yet and send someone looking for you. Why hadn’t you asked someone to ride along with you, Mary-Beth would have, and she would have appreciated the quiet you wanted. But no, all you needed was the shotgun… How foolish you were.

With a sigh, you work yourself to your feet, boots, and skirts caked with mud and dirt. Even with the weight of self-pity beckoning you to stay planted on the side of the road, the rage put fire in your steps. You would make it back to camp, feet surely blistered, if only to lessen the embarrassment of being robbed.

Anger proves to be a useful motivator as you trek down the road before you, lit only by the white light of the moon. The tears had stopped, but they threaten to spill again simply from how much your feet hurt. That glow seemed to have tricked you; Valentine wasn’t close at all. All there was was trees and rocks and dirt in every direction. You were utterly alone; lost in the wilderness with only thoughts of your naivety to keep you company.

Suddenly, the sound of hooves pounding against the earth resonates through the stillness of the wood, sending shivers down your spine and provoking a new wave of tears. With every nearer beat of the rider’s approach, anxiety constricts your heart, sending a whirlwind of possibilities into your mind. Images of dark strangers conjure in your thoughts, each with a fiendish smile and a revolver on their hip, a green bandana tied around their neck. All your anger drains, as you feel fear creep deeper into your being. You wish you still had your shotgun.

“You need a ride, miss?”

Relief crashes into you like a wave against stone; you know that voice, deep and comforting—kind (to you, at least). This time, it was joy bringing tears to your eyes.

“Y/N?” The look of surprise was to be expected on Arthur’s face as he beholds the sight of you, muddy, with tears staining your face. “Darlin’, whattaya doin’ out here?”

Immediately he jumps from his horse, warm hands gently holding the tops of your arms as he gets a better look at the state you’re in. All traces of his hard exterior are swept away, leaving the softer, more compassionate man you fell in love with.

“Camp was driving me crazy without you. I just wanted to take a ride, but some asshole stole my horse—yanked me off my saddle an’ everything. S’why my skirts are all muddy.” You explain, fighting more tears.

Some of the softness fades, still, his voice is gentle when he speaks again.

“Did he hurt ya?”

You shake your head, “no.”

The pad of his thumb dances over your cheek tenderly as he tilts your chin to look at him.

“Darlin’, ya been cryin’.”

“’M just cryin’ at my own stupidity, is all.” You tell him. “Should’a known better than to trust a man alone in the woods.” 

Arthur takes a deep breath through his nose, nodding.

“D’ja at least get a good look at ‘im?” he asks.

“Mhm,” you nod. “He took off towards Valentine.”

Arthur glanced south and nodded too, “Then I reckon that’s where we’ll find him.”

He places you on the saddle and mounts just behind you, drawing you close to his chest as he gives his loyal mare a gentle kick to urge her back onto the road.

With Arthur's arms around you, the darkness of the forest shifts back into the realm of tranquility. The menacing silhouettes of the towering trees became that of gentle giants, swaying gracefully in the night breeze. No longer did the whisper of rustling leaves hold a feeling of foreboding. The forest, in the ethereal silver glow of the moon, was a picture of peace and beauty once more.

Despite what had happened, even Arthur was a beacon of serenity. He hums as you both ride. It’s the same tune Uncle was singing when you left, only Arthur’s melody instills you with a sense of calm while Uncle’s attempt had you on the verge of threatening to remove his tongue. Every so often you feel his lips press to your scalp, leaving soft kisses in your hair and each one helps to remedy every sour thought plaguing you. It never ceases to amaze you just how tender your outlaw could be. To the civilized world, he was quite literally the poster of cruelty and evil, but for you, he was your knight in shining armor.

Valentine was quiet when the hooves of Arthur's horse turn down the main thoroughfare. The muddy roads, churned up by hooves and wagons, were dimly lit by the flicker of oil lamps. In the distance the stirring of livestock in their pens echoes through the stillness of the air, the only other sound coming from the saloon in the middle of town.

Smithfield’s always seemed to clamor no matter what time of night it was. Debauchery never slept, you guessed. The clinking of glasses and the lofty tune of the piano can be heard as you pass the sheriff’s office, a symphony of merriment in the still night air that lent such disregard to the tired citizens of Valentine.

A few men stand outside, bottles in hand as they lament lost love and glory, belching and hiccupping into the cool air. Horses tied to the hitching post whinny and jerk at reins keeping them in place, and there among them was your stolen stallion.

Arthur steers his mare to the front of the saloon, his heavy boots landing with a squelch in the mud as he dismounted. He helps you down, strong hands circling your waist and steadying you in the soft earth.

“I’ll be right back, darlin’,” he says and tips his head toward your horse. “Get yer boy, Imma go take care of some business inside.”

Before you can utter a word he stomps up the stairs of the saloon, his frame taking on the posture of The Enforcer as he pushes through the swinging doors.

His face wasn’t unknown here, it was only a couple of weeks ago he and a few of the other men from camp had gotten into some trouble. You weren’t there to see the fight, but you’d heard all about Arthur’s trip through the window—now boarded up and waiting to be repaired. This time, you hoped it wasn’t your handsome outlaw cast through the pane of glass.

While Arthur is inside, you deftly untangle your horse's reins from the post, gently stroking his mane to soothe his soft whinnying. You smile when he nuzzles you back, happy, it seems, to be back in your care.

“Was that awful man mean to you?” you ask softly, rubbing the coarse fur of his strong neck. “Arthur will handle it, don’t you worry.”

As if on cue, the jovial commotion in the saloon ends; the happy voices now holding anger or shock. The piano playing is lost to the disgruntled sounds inside and a moment later, the man who nearly ruined your night is thrown through the doors.

His bruised form topples down each step before landing in the mud. You watch, unable to quell the sense of pride that surges through you as you watch Arthur swagger through the saloon doors and down the steps, spurs jingling. The confidence he holds as he looms over the thief settles over you warmly. This act of violence was in the name of chivalry; the man deserved whatever justice Arthur planned to dish out.

“Didn’t need ya to point him out after all, darlin’.” Arthur's words fell from his lips with the ghost of a grin, pleased with the opportunity to put your attacker in his place. “This feller was inside boastin’ to the whoooole saloon ‘bout the horse he stole from a helpless young woman just outside of town.”

Arthur kicks the man as he tries to stand, the thief falling back into the mud with a groan. Folks begin to gather on the wooden porch of Smithfield’s, their faces twisting in looks of both concern and excitement as they watch your handsome outlaw and the man who’d stolen your horse.

“See, normally I don’t waste my time dealin’ with dim-witted horse thieves. Hell, on occasion, I am one. But you see, that weren’t just any helpless young woman ya stole a horse from… that was my woman.” Arthur deals him another kick to his gut, knocking the wind from his lungs a second time as he tries to stand.

“An’ if it ain’t clear already,” Arthur says reaching to pull the man from the ground and holding him by the lapels of his jacket. “I don’t take kindly to anyone hurtin’ my woman in any way. Ya understand?”

The deep timbre of Arthur’s voice works over your skin leaving goosebumps in its wake. He looks so fierce in the flickering light of the oil lamps, the brim of his hat shielding his eyes from you, though you know they were cold, focused on the man in his grasp.

No coherent words fall from the thief's mouth as Arthur holds him nearly off the ground, only a moan of anguish, surely from the two kicks he’d suffered.

“Nod if ya understand,” Arthur demands with a shake.

Anger churns on the thief’s face, but he nods, slow, jaw clenching as he musters the gall to fight back.

“Fortunately for you, all I’m lookin’ for is an apology…” Arthur tips his hat in your direction. “…to the lady.”

The man’s dark eyes glance your way and he sneers, shaking his head with a mirthless chorttle.

“I ain’t apologizin’ for nothin’, especially when your woman is stupid enough ta get her horse stole in the first place.” 

If you cared even slightly about the fate of the man who’d stolen your horse, hearing those words escape his mouth would have caused your stomach to drop knowing the sort of fire he just ignited. But, you want nothing more than for Arthur to beat him into a bloody pulp.

To your surprise, however, Arthur remains steadfast, but his voice is increasingly more sinister when he speaks.

“Maybe ya didn’t hear me. An apology. Now.”

“No.” The thief spat, a fiendish smile turning his lips.

With lightning speed and unyielding force, Arthur’s fist collides with the man’s jaw, unleashing a thunderous crack that has the onlookers gasping. The sudden impact propels the thief backward, his body crashing into the cold mud for a third time.

You expect him to stay there, really if the man had any wits about him, he would have. However, despite the two kicks and the blow to his face, the thief rose from the mud, foolish determination etched onto his bloodied features. Arthur almost scoffs and wastes no time proving the extent of his strength. He strikes him again, obliterating the remnants of the man's fractured jaw, the sound resonating with a deafening crack.

No one rushes to the man's aid when he falls to the muddy earth for a fourth time, wailing in anguish at his shattered jaw. Arthur stands over him, tall and formidable, his presence almost challenging the man to get back up, your outlaw more than prepared to deal out more justice.

“Should’a apologized…” Arthur chides. “If ya had, maybe ya’d have use of that jaw’a yours right now.” 

The man groans in agony, writing on the ground as he holds his broken jaw. 

“But I had ta keep ya from speakin’ ill’a my woman like that. I certainly don’t appreciate when slimy fellers like you use her kindness against her.” Arthur slowly circles the man like a fierce wolf circles their prey. “Then ya had ta go leavin’ her out in them woods, faaar from any sort of civilization, all alone. An’ well. I ain’t takin’ no apologies for that.” 

He stops, one leg on each side of the thief before dropping to his knees, fist poised high over the old leather hat on his head. Arthur didn’t leave your attacker with only one more punch; the man under his weight had committed the ultimate sin in your lovers eyes. He’d hurt you, a crime that warranted the ultimate punishment.

The sound of each punch reverberates through the air as Arthur’s fury drives him to deliver decisive blows. As you watch, pride swelling in your breast, you swear each hit lands with such intensity the ground beneath you trembles. All the folks gathered to watch pass whispers while looks of shock mold their features. Come the morning, the town would be talking again about the stranger who liked to stir up trouble in the sleepy city of Valentine. 

When Arthur finally stands, flexing his surely aching knuckles, the man beneath him is unrecognizable. Blood and bruises distort his face, teeth missing from his gaping mouth. His limp body is unmoving in the mud and you haven’t a care whether he was dead or alive. 

There is a hint of shame on his expression when he drew himself back into your orbit, the coldness in his eyes warming in your presence.

“’M sorry, darlin’.” He says refusing to look you in the eye. In an instant, the Enforcer was gone, leaving only your kind knight in shining armor standing before you, his knuckles red and bloodied from dealing out justice.

“For what?” you say taking his injured hand in yours, wiping the blood from the cuts with a clean section of your skirt.

“For what I done.”

You shake your head and tilt the brim of his hat, looking to meet his lowered gaze. “All you done, Mister Morgan, is protect your woman. Ain’t a lick of shame in that.”

He grins softly, gently caressing your chin and cheek with his clean hand. His expression meets yours completely.

“’M just glad I happened upon ya when I did.” He murmurs and you step closer to him.

His gentle eyes, painted in a delicate watercolor palette of blue and green, softly convey the deep love he possessed for you, along with the ever-lingering fear of losing you. The exquisite blend of tenderness and vulnerability was something seldom seen by anyone other than you. And each time those meticulously built walls of his came down,  you were honored to behold the part of him he kept hidden from everyone else.

“Me too,” you whisper, hoping the look you give him in return conveys the same sentiment.

The lives you lived held no real guarantees apart from a bullet or a hanging rope. You learned quickly to never take for granted a single moment, and this one you certainly weren’t.

“You ready to get back to camp now, darlin’?” he asks, fixing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Camp… you almost grimace at the thought of returning to the mediocrity of it all.

“Actually.” Your eyes glance over to the hotel across the way, mischief coating your smile. “Was thinkin’ I should reward my rescuer.”

His brows furrow following your glance, oblivious to your meaning.

Before he can open his mouth to form a question, you kiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck, stretching on your tiptoes to gain the fullness of his kiss. As if on instinct his arms weave around your waist, your feet coming off the ground as he pulls you in closer to deepen the draw of your joined lips. It’s slow and lazy and perfect, his mouth undemanding but firm against yours, making you melt into his very being.

Your head is spinning when he pulls away, placing your feet gently back into the mud, and you can’t fight the smile unfurling over your wet lips.

“I’ll buy us a room at the inn,” you say, batting your eyes coyly. “S’ the least I can do for my knight in shining armor.”

Arthur laughed, heartily. There is an undeniable charm to the sound of his chuckle, as it cascades through the air, enveloping you with an infectious happiness each and every time you hear it. As his eyes hold yours, a playful glimmer twinkles behind them as he swiftly deciphers your not-so-cleverly veiled plan.

“A knight, hmm?” his brow lifts onto his forehead in a deep arch, his smirk firm on his lips.

You nod, “In shining armor.”

He chuckles again shaking his head before scooping you into his arms with ease. You gasp at the swiftness, and laugh too, draping your arms around his neck before planting a kiss on his bearded cheek.

“Well, then, I reckon I should play the part, shouldn’t I, sweetheart?” he says as he steps around your fallen, broken-jawed adversary on his way to the Saint’s Hotel. “Ain’t never been a knight before, just a dirty ol’ outlaw.”

You laugh and roll your eyes. 

He whistles as he trudges through the soft earth for his horse to follow and his loyal mare falls in close on his heel. Your horse follows too, nearly as inseparable from his horse as you were with Arthur.

“Ya ain't old, and ya ain’t dirty…need I remind you who's got mud all over their clothes?” you say kicking up your soiled skirts to get his attention. He just laughs.

“Maybe ya forgot already, but I was on my knees in the mud beating the life outta that fool who robbed you. That makes me just as dirty as you. ‘Sides, I reckon neither of us will be wearin’ them for much longer anyhow.”

His comment, and accompanying bravado surges through you like more wildfire, adding to the flames he’d already been fanning since throwing your attacker through the saloon doors. Arthur’s confidence in his ability to have you swooning with only the low smokey sound of voice and the words he spoke had grown exponentially. Which was both something of a blessing and a curse. You enjoyed the days of flirting and seeing him grow red in the face from your flattery. Now he made you putty in his hands with a few words and a coupling smile.

For that moment, however, you decide it’s a blessing; he’s your Savior in Spurs—a cowboy casanova.

You toss a coin to the innkeeper from the pocket of your skirts and he casts you a key that you manage to catch as Arthur wastes no time making his way upstairs.

In truth, the Saint’s Hotel was no paradise; with its meager accommodations and thin walls, it was hardly a place to find rest. However, that night, that illusion of privacy might as well have been nirvana. You could hardly recall the last time the two of you had a chance to make use of actual walls instead of the canvas flaps of Arthur’s tent. Here, the neighbors were strangers who wouldn’t be casting you looks over the fire the next morning, knowing far too much about what you and Arthur had gotten up to in his tent. You were going to savor every tiny detail unabashedly while you could.

The fire was already burning brightly in the fireplace, warming the room from the cool mountain air outside the windows, adorned with sun-rotted lace curtains. The wooden floor creaked under each step as if to voice its displeasure at the neglect it had suffered over the years. The faded wallpaper, once bursting with colorful patterns, now barely clung to the walls, faded and dusty. The bed, while made with threadbare quilts and pillows, appeared sturdy enough not to break under both your weights, and that was all you truly cared about.

Your boots are the first to come off once Arthur places you back on your feet, discarded with a couple of eager kicks before his hands reach for the fastenings of your skirts. Yours wind around his neck, burying your fingers in his honey-brown hair as you kiss his soft lips.

For all the violence they inflicted mere moments ago, Arthur's hands were so very gentle, plucking at the ties holding your skirts in place, and again as his deft fingers loosened every button of your blouse with practiced ease, leaving you in just your chemise. Despite the warmth of the fire burning in the room, a chill works through you and you sigh, more gooseflesh prickling your skin as Arthur moves his hand to the globe of your breast, thumb sweeping over the covered peak of your nipple.

His featherlight touches make your mind a dizzying vortex of desire. This man, who uses his hands to deal out death sentences, only ever uses them to worship you. His mouth, which often spits out sarcasm and cruelty, paints your skin with tender presses and undeniable words of adoration.

Your hands snake from their place in his hair to the buttons of his blue work shirt, loosening only a few before he swats your hands away gently causing a whine to sound in the back of your throat. He meets your furrowed brow with smirk and a quick peck on your lips before moving your hands back where they were. 

“Feels good, you doin’ that,” he tells you. 

You gently scratch the hair at the nape of his neck. “This?”

“Mhm…” he leans to kiss you again, a slow, worshipful act as though he is trying to memorize every detail of your mouth against his. 

Desire thrums through you ever hotter. You need him. 

“Arthur…” you breathe in weak protest as his lips scour down the column of your neck, his hands pulling your chemise from you. “…I’m s’posed to be rewardin’ you.”

You feel him smile and shake his head as his kisses venture further across your collarbone. When he relieves you of your bloomers, you shiver and moan at the feeling.

“Don’t need no reward, darlin’.” He whispers against your skin between kisses. “Think its you that needs taken care of after whatcha been through.”

Calloused fingers spray over the small of your back as he brings you against him, the hardness in his trousers pressing against your bare form. You feel your own arousal coating your thighs, warm and wet, and begging for the feel of him inside of you.

“Will ya let me do that darlin’? Take care of ya?” his hands explore as he speaks, trailing down your spine before cupping your back side with a little squeeze. 

Your head falls back with a ragged sigh, fingers tugging at this hair. As much as you want to tease and dote on him and show him how grateful you were for his timing, you can’t think when he has you like this: naked and vulnerable to his touch, mind cloudy with desire. 

“Yes, Arthur. Always.” You murmur, lost in the blissfulness of his touches. 

As if you weigh nothing, he takes you in his arms again, hoisting you aloft, and carrying you to the bed where he lays you so tenderly over the threadbare coverings.

You watch, heart pounding against the cage of your ribs as he quickly sheds each of his layers. It is a show you have seen a dozen times and helped with a dozen more, still, your lust-blown eyes gauge him with reverence and awe.

He is truly magnificent, your handsome outlaw; strong shoulders and wide chest dusted with coarse hair your fingers yearned to comb through. Warmth drifts through your body as you drink in every inch of him, eyes landing where his cock juts from dark curls proudly and your cunt clenches in anticipation.

“C’mere, sir knight…” you say stretching across the mattress, smiling, and batting your lashes. “…come an’ claim yer prize.”

Arthur chuckles heartily as he climbs into bed, and you welcome the press of his weight with a happy sigh. He teases your lips with his own, soft kisses that leave you wanting before the press of his tongue coaxes your mouth open. You reciprocate, drinking from his mouth with hungry groans.

Heat pools lower and lower where you want him most; feeling the long pulsing line of him against your thigh was like torture, causing another whine to escape your busy lips.

“Please…” you sigh, a slow undulation taking your hips in search of some form of stimulation.

Once more he obeys, his mouth laying a hot trail down your sternum, stopping to draw your nipple between his lips before traveling further down. The sensation of familiar, calloused palms gliding down the stack of your ribs as his kisses continue their way down, squeezing the swell of your hips and kneading the softness of your thighs have your quiet moans echoing through the room.

Arthur dips his mouth to your center abruptly and draws his tongue up through your slick folds, tasting just how much you need him, and he groans.

“Mmmm, darlin’,” he murmurs before swirling his tongue over the bud nestled at the apex of your cunt. “I don’t do this enough…”

You gasp, a flash of heat pulsing through your center, head rolling against the pillow. He didn’t do this enough, then again, the two of you rarely found yourselves so alone together. And there was barely enough room for the two of you on Arthur’s cot anyway, let alone room to explore other methods of pleasure.

He intensifies his exploration, drawing his tongue over you in wide flat strokes, while your thighs come to moor on his shoulders, heels digging into his back. You feel his shoulders roll as he dedicates himself fully to his task, thrusting his tongue into you, filling you with warm velvet before abandoning your core for the silky nub crowning it. Arthur's tongue curls against it until you shiver and gasp.

“A-Arthur…” your breath hitches, hooking your fingers into his hair.

A low purr rumbles through him as you press against his face, hips rolling in rhythm with his ministrations. Your lover sweeps his tongue over and around your clit repeatedly. Sensation swells low in your belly, feeling yourself nearing the ultimate peak and you tug his hair ruthlessly wanting more. Needing more than just his mouth. His truly wonderful mouth... 

“C’mon, darlin’,” he mutters against your dripping cunt, the gust of his breath billowing over your heated center causing you to shutter.

Without fanfare a wide finger dips into your core, then another, making your back arch and a loud moan spill from your lips at the delightful stretch. For only a moment, your cry reminds you of the paper mache walls surrounding you; no doubt everyone in the Saint's Hotel knows what the two of you are up to, but you cared little with Arthur between your legs eating you out like he was made to do so.

Stars dance in your eyes as you skirt the edge of your undoing. He growls encouragingly when you flutter in warning against his lips and around his fingers.

“That’s it…” he murmurs, voice low and utterly sinful. You can even feel his proud, smirking lips against your center, the image alone snapping the spring coiled low in your belly.

Ecstasy hits you like white-hot heat, tunneling your vision as you jerk against his face, heels digging into his back. His name falls sloppily from your mouth in a flurry of mixed vowels and sounds that hold no cohesive meaning, each one melding into throaty moans.

“That’s my girl…” He grins, removing his fingers to lap up all the juices of your arousal as you ride out your orgasm against his face.

Slowly you come back to yourself, the tremors of aftershock fading as your breath and vision catch up to you. Arthur remains content between your legs, gently kissing the soft skin of your thighs, once more humming the tune he’d serenaded you with on your way into town.

When he smiles at you, lips and chin shining with your nectar, love burning behind his blue-green eyes, you pet his hair, holding that gaze with the same reverence. Slowly a smirk unfurls on your lips.

“Like I said, knight in shining armor.”

[symp4nat]

"Even Aphrodite envies you."

clarisse la rue x fem!reader

authors note: post 10 pm cry write guys i need to pee, this is a vent fic. also, headcanon that you call clarisse "risse" pronouned Reese bc awwwwwww

summary - you talk about ur body negatively

warnings - talk about body image, over excercizing, not eating/skipping meals, descriptions of body, flashbacks, itty bitty mentions of praying to not greek gods

Thud.

I wasn't enough.

Thwap.

"You need to work out, you're getting too big, and you're only 14," my mother said. I gulped and sat down. "Can we just... pray," I asked. "You need to fix it, usually, girls your age are body conscious.... haven't you seen [friend's name]? That was such a transformation," my dad said.

Thump.

"She lost so much weight, Y/N/N, why don't you do the same? Most people will do things when they see their friends are doing it," my mother said.

Thomp. My mother put her hand on my shoulder-

I went to punch the person who put their hand on me. They caught my hand and I sighed as I saw it was my girlfriend. Clarisse grabbed both of my hands and rubbed my knuckles. "How about we take a break, hm?"

I shook my head. I had to do this.

"Please, no more boxing for the day, you've been overworking yourself," she continued. "Risse, I'm fine.. I've got this," I reassured her.

"Just please, you've been boxing for at least two hours, maybe take a break, okay," she squeezed my hands and walked off. I sighed and went to the archery range.

I grabbed a fairly sized bow and then a set of arrows. I began to shoot around, not necessarily being good at it.

Thwip.

"Y/n, why'd you get new clothes, your old ones were cute," my friends exclaimed. I shrugged. "No need for old clothes..."

Thwap.

"Why don't we all go for a run, some of us need it," my friends said. I looked down and said, "We aren't all wearing tennis shoes."

Shhhk!

They never necessarily spoke much about my own weight, but they all weighed less than me and called themselves fat. They all were skinny or at least average.

"Y/n/n? Please, go rest, I bet you're tired," Clarisse sighed as she noticed me at the archery range. "I'm fine," I defended. "Go get some lunch, or I'll get some for you," she said. I shook my head. "I got it. Thanks, babe," I said.

-

"C'mon, angel, wanna sit on my lap, maybe take a nap," Clarisse asked. I laughed and shook my head, "You rhymed. And, no, it's... alright.."

Clarisse's eyes became sympathetic. "Baby, is it because this," she asked as you placed her hands on what she called my "love handles" and my hip dips. I looked down and shrugged.

"Baby, that isn't a big deal, you're truly beautiful... do- do you not believe me," Clarisse asked. She pulled me onto her lap and I looked down at my hands. "Hey, eyes on me," she said.

My eyes darted back up to hers and she said, "Would you like to know something really cool?" I nodded and she continued, "I think.. no- I know... That even Aphrodite would be jealous of your beauty."

My eyes began to fill with tears as I buried my head into her neck. "I love you, I don't deserve you," I said as tears stained her shirt. "I love you most, and yes you do, okay? You absolutely do, pretty girl," she said gently to me as her hands relaxed on my hips.

She leaned back on the bed and pulled me back so I could lay on top of her. "I doubt you wanna talk about it later... but how about we nap for now? And just... please... never... over exercise or over work yourself, angel," I nodded as she spoke and closed my eyes. There wasn't anything I could have done to have just to have someone as caring and supporting her.

[gguk-n]

Safe Haven (Carlos Sainz x Reader)

Thank you for the 200 followers. I'm having a lot of fun writing. Hope you guys enjoy this celebration post!!

Summary- Meeting Carlos was the best thing to happen to you.

{Reader's POV}

Ever since Carlos and I had gone public with our relationship; all the people I had avoided informing of our relationship had found out from the news. It was hard to miss when the world like to talk about who the girl was hanging on to one of the hottest F1 driver was.

The one person I had avoided telling about my relationship with Carlos the most was my own mother. Our relationship was always a tough one; she never could accept my choices or decisions. I've lost a lot of partners because of her. Either she would convince me or them that we weren't meant to be; and the next day I was crying on the bathroom floor.

I met Carlos after a particularly bad break up where the guy cheated on me because my mother said I was cheating on him and he should get me back. I really loved him but I felt like the stars had aligned when I met Carlos at the Real Madrid match I was dragged to by my roommate who was tired of watching me mope. The match wasn't very memorable but the guy I was sat next to was. I didn't know he was some formula one driver; all I knew was he was some hot Spanish guy who's voice made a shiver run down my spine. We exchanged numbers at the end of the night and stayed in touch for a while before we could meet up for a date. The date was beautiful and magical just like the fairytales.

We'd been dating for almost 2 years when I finally agreed to go to one of his races. I had moved out from the town that held me back and far far away from my mother. I felt like I was invincible at this point. I guess I forgot what she was capable of. The moment my face was plastered all over the news, my phone wouldn't stop ringing. I was scared. Carlos didn't know the extent of my hurt and why I avoided my mother.

Until a few days after the race, Carlos was out cycling with his friends and I was busy making cookies when I heard the door ring. Thinking it was Carlos, I opened the door; only to be met with the one person I was trying to run away from. "What are you doing here?" I asked, a tremble in my voice. "I heard you got yourself a rich and famous boyfriend. Won't you introduce me to him?" she asked while trying to look behind me. I tried to close the door but she was strong and walked right in. "Can't believe you actually found someone, gullible enough" she sneered taking the whole house in. My hands were shaking and there was a lump in my throat. "The house is big and looks expensive. You must be giving him a good reason to keep you around." she jeered. "Can you leave?" I asked, unsure of anything. "I could but then I wouldn't get to meet this boyfriend of yours, now would I" she replied taking a seat on the couch.

"Why are you here?" I asked, finally finding some strength. "Isn't it obvious? You got rich and famous and forgot your poor old mother who raised you?" she said solemnly. If I didn't know better, I would've been fooled. She leaned back on the sofa, "Come sit darling. It's your house after all" she said, patting the space next to her. I quietly took my place on the sofa next to hers. "I'm hurt. I see you after years and this is the kind of welcome I get" she sighed. "What do you want, now?" I asked more boldly. "I don't get what he sees in you" she started avoiding my question. "You're not pretty or petite like those models, or have money or fame that you can offer. Must be the sex. Am I right?" she asked. I was disgusted at what she said. "Good thing you learned how to please a man. The previous one had to find solace in another woman's arms because of you" she tsked. "He wouldn't have, if you hadn't lied" I spat. "I was only looking out for him" she smiled. "Carlos won't want you around once I'm done talking" she smirked. "He's different, he loves me." I cried out. "Oh dear, all men are the same. They'll leave for a better thing any day." she replied.

As if on queue, I heard the door open and Carlos called out, "Carino, I'm back and I have your favourite cheesecake from that shop you love." I sat there with bated breath. The moment he came in view, I quickly strode towards him. He had placed the cake in the kitchen and wrapped his arms around me, giving me a quick peck. I turned towards my mother and introduced him to her. "Babe, this is my mother. Mom, this is my boyfriend, Carlos." I said. Carlos sensed my unease with my posture to the way I was shaking slightly. He placed a hand on the small of my back and raised his hand to shake my mother's. "Nice to meet. Mrs Y/L/N. I've heard so much about you" he said. "Sadly, I haven't. You'd think that after you grow, birth and raise a child they'd care about you at least. But she left me to rot" she fake cried; the crocodile tears ready to fall. My heart was beating out of my chest. I felt weak and a part of me was scared that what if he listened to my mother and then what. "Mom, you should go, we have somewhere to be." I said, standing my ground. "What a shame? I was hoping to have lunch with you. Carlos, sweetheart, if she ever troubles you; give her a good beating, she's quite docile. I've let her loose and look at the trouble she is causing us both." she said, shaking her head. I felt like throwing up. Carlos was shocked, "Why would I hit her?" he asked. "It's ok darling, all righteous men hit their wives to keep them in line. I mean if you'll make this whore your wife that is" she snickered. "Y/N isn't a whore and I do plan on making her my wife" he replied disgusted at what my mother said.

"I would like it if you would stop disrespecting my girlfriend and leave right now." he asked politely. "Where would the fun be, if I left?" she asked. "Please leave before I call the police" he said sternly. I was shaking violently at this point, all those memories, resurfacing. Thankfully Carlos was able to get her to leave. When he came back after locking the door, I crashed in his arms. "Are you ok, hermosa?" he whispered. I started to cry, "Please don't leave me. I don't know what I'll do without you. I love you so much" I cried out in one breath, holding his shirt tightly. "I will never leave you, hermosa" he replied now carrying me to the sofa. We sat down in each others embrace while I cried my heart out. His shirt wet from all the sweat and my tears.

After I had calmed down, "I didn't know it was this bad" he whispered. "She's the reason my last boyfriend cheated on me" I mumbled. "Well, he was stupid. Good he left. That way I found you." he said while smiling. I finally smiled at him for the first time since my mother came. "Don't listen to anything she says. She doesn't know me, she doesn't know us. I love you so much and I would never let anything happen to you" he comforted. I gave him a hug, burying my face in his neck. He placed me on the sofa before getting up to go to our room. I thought he was going to get changed but instead he came back with something in his hand. "I had elaborate plans that my sisters were helping me in. But this is a better time then any." He said, while getting on one knee. My hands were on my mouth. "I love you since the day I first saw you at the Real Madrid match. I'm so happy that we were sat next to each other. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you do me the honour by marrying me?" he stated. "Yes" I croaked out, giving him my left hand. He got up and kissed me. "I'll make sure no one can hurt you ever again. Not even your mother" he said giving me a kiss again. I smiled into the kiss wrapping my arms around him, knowing I was finally safe. "My sisters are gonna kill me, I asked them to plan such an elaborate proposal" he laughed. "I think they'll understand" I said, smiling at him. "Yeah, they love you more than they love me anyways" he chuckled. I was happy I thought while looking at the ring on my finger.

[brucewaynehater101]

Hear me out for something Silly. Jack is not Tim's biological parent. Jack, Janet, and Tim all know this. So does Tim's biological parent. Tim does have contact with his Biodad and they do get along wonderfully. When he has time off from his very busy job and thinks it's safe, he will 100% drop by Gothem to see his son. Even if they can't see eachother a lot, Tim and his dad are still very close.

As for how this happened, Janet and Jack had a three way with a *very* interesting stranger about the time Tim would have been conceived. Since he didn't exactly look like Jack, they did a DNA test and then called the guy and asked him to do a DNA test. He told them he would but only if he got his DNA back after the test. Just one of his weird quirks that worked as Rizz on the pair.

Honestly though, it's nothing short of a miracle that they got The Question of all heroes to do a paternity test, but then again. He has always wanted to be a dad and this is an opportunity that just fell into his lap! And the day he walked into his son of 7 years old standing infront of a corkboard covered in pictures and string? It was the proudest day of his life. He had little Tim talk him through all of the strings and explain his theory and Tim started by smacking his little hand on the board and saying in the most manic voice, "BATMAN IS BRUCE WAYNE."

By the end, Question was pacing around the room as Tim also paced around the room, both rambling at eachother as they used Bruce's connections to uncover who well over half the leauge are. Does Question feel a little guilty about finding out his coworkers identities? Maybe. But he doesn't care, he's bonding with his son! His son is brilliant!! Not even he knew who Batman was!!! He could never have been prouder and it nearly made him cry.

Years later when Tim became Robin, he freely told Question about it and while Question didn't approve fully, he knew there was nothing he could do to stop his brilliant, wonderful, adorable, *stubborn* son. Tim could out stubborn a hundred mules, just like both his mother and his father. Maybe he could even out stubborn the both of them, as evidence by Question being the one to cave first. He caved on the condition that Tim get *proper* training and go to a few people of his choosing after he trains under the people that Bruce wants him to train under. Tim agrees and gets a few extra teachers in his time away.

Tim does not tell the Bats that Question is his Dad, simply assuming that if he could figure out who they were at 7 years old, they can figure out something as simple as who his parent is. Turns out, all of the Bats think that Jack Drake is his father and he doesn't find this out until Jack dies. When he does so, Bruce asks where Tim is going to stay and he replies, "with my Dad and his wife, obviously." To which there is quite a bit of confusion until Tim scoffs and crosses his arms as he states, "Jack Drake was never my father. He and Mother were very open about the fact that they had a 3 way and the other guy there is my biological father. I've been in contact with him regularly since I was 3. Sure he's not there all the time but he makes sure to visit minimum once a month. Usually at least twice a week. He's a good person and I'll be fine living with him and his wife. Hell, he's been trying to get me to move in with him for years anyways! Honestly, I thought you already knew this Bruce. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to see my Dad." And simply walked out if the cave.

The Bats. Don't know who his father is. Nor for lack of trying though. His dad is The Question that man leaves no evidence of anywhere he has been and never walks into cameras. He leaves just enough that they know he's real. Jason has seen the man with his own two eyes and swears he is a red head, but the man vanished before Jason could say a word to him. However Damian saw Tim talking to someone with black hair and and blue coat on patrol, but didn't get a look at his face. The guy was gone before Damian could get there and Tim tells him that it was his dad doing a mid patrol check in, which he does sometimes.

There is nearly a very big fight about civilians and identity hiding until Tim snaps, "HE KNEW FROM THE DAY I KNEW. HE HELPED ME WITH MY FUCKING EVIDENCE BOARD AND ENCOURAGED ME. BESIDES, HES NOT EVEN A CIVILIAN ANYWAYS!" And before anyone can question it, he goes on a long rant about how it can't be that hard to piece together who his dad is because they haven't been hiding it from them At All and how disappointed he is in them. As he does so, he is texting someone and when asked who, Tim snaps, "my Dad! I'm telling him to come to the Batcave because you're all idiots who couldn't find the link between us!" This leads to Bruce getting angry about inviting strangers to the Batcave and Tim scoffs about Bruce having invited his dad there before.

30 minuets later, when The Question walks in and says, "Hello Batman." Bruce turns to him to ask why he's there but Tim cuts in and says, "finally! Dad, can you believe that none of these idiots put it together?! They have no idea were related!" And Question just says, "but. We've been living together for nearly a year. I've known you all your life and you are the greatest thing I've ever helped to create." And Tim blushes a bit at the last part but plays it off by insulting The Bats, "right? And they call themselves Detectives!"

They spend the next hour roasting the Bats together and also mentioning off the walls crazy theories that are actually true.

Years later when Tim goes on the Brucequest, he doesn't go alone. He shows his evidence to his dad and Question and Huntress both come with him to help. Tim doesn't loose his spleen thanks to them but they do have to team up with the LOA because they have Tam held hostage. They also blow up the leauge but all credit goes to Tim and when they get Bruce back, they try to give credit to Tim but the Leauge just points at Question and Huntress and says, "those two did it."

Holy shit. This AU is fantastic.

I do not know nearly enough about Question, and you've pointed out the errors in my ways. I should know more about him because you are absolutely correct (also, AUs that speculate who can be Tim's bio parents are hilarious to me).

Fuck. I just binged some of his content (a very small amount), and I swear to gods this man is hilarious. His dry wit, conspiracy theories, humor, and overall demeanor is grand. I should find more.

Anyways, I absolutely love how Jack, Janet, and Question are peacefully coparenting. There's no drama or tension. Jack isn't jealous or mad. They just raise Tim together.

Tim and Question bonding over theories, research, stalker tendencies (referencing when Question said he goes through everyone's trash), and pin boards is adorable. This is a friendship/mentor bond I didn't know I needed in my life until now.

I'm also vibing with Question messing with the Bats while Tim us legitimately confused how they haven't figured anything out yet.

I'm also imagining post Jack's funeral (if this is a good dad Bruce AU), that Bruce turns to the newly orphaned Tim. He has adoption papers metaphorically behind his back and does a blue screen at realizing that Tim has been hiding even more parents all this time. It seems his adoption addictions were stopped this time, dagnabbit.

[bumblesimagines]

no, i've never met you before in my life.

don't give me that look.

we could try being friends.

Sarah Cameron

Pronouns: He/Him/His

CW/TW: Underage drinking, sexual content, cheating

Got carried away with this one🧍🏻‍♀️

Sparing a quick glance over her shoulder, Sarah unscrewed the cap of the flask while her friends huddled around her, subtly attempting to hide the flask from the adults around them. She took a quick swing of it and almost coughed at the burning sensation trickling down her throat before quickly passing the flask off to another friend. 

"Sarah! Come here a second, baby!"

She immediately straightened up at the sound of her father's voice, quickly wiping her lips dry before she spun around with a wide smile full of feigned innocence. Sarah shuffled through the crowd until she reached her father's side, her eyes flickering over to Wheezie questioningly but her little sister merely shrugged in return. "What is it?"

"I want to introduce you to an old friend of mine, sweetheart. We go-" Ward blew a raspberry, a hearty chuckle leaving him. The other two strangers present laughed as well, giving Sarah polite smiles when she glanced their way. "-way back. This is (F/N) and his wife, (M/N). They moved back a few weeks ago with their son, (Y/N). He's about Sarah's age, right?"

"Oh, yes, I think so." (M/N) nodded, dropping her arm from around her husband's waist and looking around the other guests bustling around until she spotted her son and waved him over. "He's currently studying online but it'd be great if you could introduce him to some of your friends, Sarah. Rafe has already been a pleasure showing him around."

Yikes. "Yeah, for sure! It'd be no problem." Sarah nodded, her fingers brushing back some blonde strands swaying with the light breeze passing by. Her attention turned onto the young familiar man who slinked up to stand beside his mother, offering her a quick peck on the temple before he turned to look at the Cameron. She stared at him, lips parted and eyes wide as he shook Ward and Rose's hands, his own body tensing when he finally looked at her. 

"I know you." Sarah blurted out because how on Earth could she forget him? When they'd met she thought he'd been just another touron visiting the island for the summer who'd manage to get invited to a Kook house party. (Y/N). The name rang a bell a little too late. Rose and Ward glanced between the two curiously.

"No, I've never met you before in my life. I'm sorry, you must have me confused with someone else." (Y/N) gave a little forced laugh and she squinted at him, her brows dipping. "But, I'd be happy to get to know you better, Miss Cameron. Maybe while we walk to the dessert table? I've been craving a slice of that cake since I first saw it."

At his words, the adults shared a laugh and chuckles. Ward clapped his hand over (Y/N)'s shoulder a few times, his eyes crinkled with amusement and his lips pulled back into a wide smile. "He's all you, (F/N). Always making a beeline to the desserts everywhere you go!" The adults laughed again, although Rose continued glancing between the two with uncertainty. 

(Y/N) stepped forward and offered Sarah his arm, letting her loop hers around it before the two parted from the adults and made their way through the guests, avoiding those dancing and mingling. Sarah peeked back toward her father and stepmother, ensuring enough distance had been made before she slipped her arm away from his and swatted at his stomach with a scowl.

"Oh, don't give me that look." He huffed and stopped by the dessert table, taking a quick glance over the treats available before looking back at her. "What'd you want me to say? 'Oh, yeah, I know your daughter because we hooked up at a party' doesn't sound great to say to a man you've only met twice. Do you even remember half of what happened?" 

"Of course I do!" 

"So, tell me, Spiderman," Sarah spoke teasingly, bringing the beer bottle back up to her lips and taking a gulp of the last of the liquid swirling around in it. She swallowed and set the bottle down between her crossed legs, her gaze drifting away from the Kooks partying below near and in the pool to look at the teen beside her. "Do you always climb onto the roofs at parties?"

"Sometimes." He grinned, his head tilted back to gaze up at the twinkling stars above them. "It's... nice to take a breather every once in a while. Especially at night when it's too dark for someone to call the cops on you." 

Sarah giggled and tilted her head to the side, her blonde hair tumbling over her shoulder and resting over her jean jacket. "Have you ever fallen off?" She asked, glancing at the distance between them and the ground. She was no stranger to climbing on roofs but she'd hardly call it a habit like he did.

"Nah," He clicked his tongue and looked at her. "I know when it's a good idea and when it's not a good idea. But, if I ever did fall, it's all part of the risk of taking adventures. I might break a bone or two but at least I can say I had fun."

"So, you're like... a daredevil?"

"Eh, you'll never catch me jumping out of a plane but climbing a water tower or cliff diving? Been there, done that." (Y/N) shrugged and her brows raised, a soft hum leaving her throat. Sarah ran her thumb over the rim of the bottle, unable to wipe the smile off her lips as the two stared at each other. He was handsome, a fresh face in a sea of people she grew up with, and held a soul for adventure just as she did.

Topper lingered in the back of her mind with his boyish smile and brown curls, but he was... boring, at best. Predictable and almost puppy-like in the way he trailed after her and her brother hoping to get a taste of that Cameron attention. Figure Eight saw it as something big when the Camerons liked someone, like a symbol that person was worth something. It was nice to befriend others easily but Sarah always feared they were after one thing or another. But with new faces who had no idea who she was or how much money her family had? She could be whoever she wanted. 

(Y/N) broke eye contact first, pushing himself off his hands and wiping them on his pants. "Come on, buttercup," He said, lightly patting her hip and carefully pushing himself up onto his feet. He wobbled a bit but caught his balance in no time, his hand dropping down and extending toward her. Sarah held onto it as she got up, her head bowing semi-bashfully when (Y/N) kept a gentle grip on it as they carefully made their way toward the open window. "After you, madam."

"Thank you, kind sir." She laughed, her index finger and thumb tightly wrapped around the neck of the bottle while the others pressed over the top of the window. She stuck her foot in and bent the knee of her other leg, feeling around blindly for the window seat until she felt the top of her sneaker press into the cushion. 

Carefully, Sarah ducked and tightened her grip on his hand as she took a step onto the window seat and fully entered the game room of whoever had hosted the party. Sarah vaguely recognized it from a distant memory of gathering around the pool table with friends and a drink in hand but the memory proved too fuzzy to remember who actually lived in the house. She finally released his hand and hopped down from the window seat, setting the bottle aside and offering her hand in return as he followed in after her. He landed beside her with a louder thump, though the hip-hop song blaring through the speakers downstairs drowned it out. 

"What are you going to do now, Spiderman?" Sarah asked, her veins tingling with the buzz of drinks she'd ingested finally taking effect. She watched him brace his knee on the window seat and tug the window closed, his fingers fiddling with the latch until it locked. "Going back to being Peter Parker for the night? Pretending like you give a shit about any of the people downstairs?"

"Are you talking about me or talking about yourself?" (Y/N) arched a brow at her playfully and stepped back from the window seat, taking a proper look around the dark, barely lit room. She chuckled softly and released a soft hum, unable to deny that while she loved her friends, most of the time she could hardly stand to be around them for more than a few hours. Her teeth dug into the inside of her cheek when he checked the time on his phone. 

"Are you leaving?" She asked quietly, the disappointment surprising her. 

"Maybe," (Y/N) shrugged and stuffed the phone back into his back pocket, raising his head to look back at her. "Might grab another drink or two... see if anyone's started a game of beer pong. If not, you and I could always start one and see how well of a team we make, Gwen Stacy."

"Mm, I don't feel like drinking." She murmured, her head lolling to the side and lips stretching into a coy smile. Nerves danced along with desire, mixing with the buzz and euphoric feeling spreading through her body.

Something about being intimate with someone always frightened her, scared her into drawing away from her boyfriends whenever they tried taking it to the next level. Some were kind about it, others got huffy and annoyed. In the end, she always dropped them before things could fully get serious, even if part of her earned for the closeness of a partner. Her friends always said a one-time thing a stranger would ease things for her, take away the chance of coming face to face with the guy again and having to face the fact she'd allowed herself to be fully vulnerable with someone. 

"And what do you feel like doing, buttercup?" (Y/N) mimicked her, tilting his head to the side as well and giving a knowing grin. She pursed her lips, her fingertips brushing over the rips in her shorts in deliberation. She thought of Topper and how he definitely wouldn't know what he was doing versus cool and relaxed (Y/N) who seemed like the sort of guy you could lose yourself in. 

Without giving it further thought, Sarah stepped forward and reached out, her hands curling around the collar of his shirt and pulling him closer. She pressed her lips to his, glad to at least be well-versed in the art of kissing, and dragged her arms around his shoulders. He tasted like beer and the subtle scent of his cologne filled her nose. His hands landed on her waist, fingers lightly digging into her warm skin. They explored her bare stomach and back before his arm curled fully around her waist and his other hand dropped to grasp the back of her thigh and lift her leg. 

Sarah giggled against his lips, a soft squeak following when she found herself backed against the wall by the window. She felt breathless when he pulled away to press messy kisses along the side of her neck, the heat spreading across her face only darting down to her lower belly and gripping her gut like a vice. She gasped and sighed softly, her hands moving to rest on his shoulders and digging her nails into the fabric of it.

Her jean jacket slipped off her shoulders and with a small wiggle, it slipped further down her arms. She moved her arms and heard it flop softly on the floor by her feet, teeth catching her bottom lip when (Y/N) explored the newly exposed skin. Sarah dipped her hands beneath his shirt and ran her palms along his stomach and sides, her back arching slightly off the wall and against him with each delicate drag of his teeth along her shoulder. Definitely the sort of guy you could lose yourself in.

(Y/N)'s finger hooked around the middle of her floral bikini top and gave it a swift tug, the laces undoing with ease and the top falling to the floor alongside the jacket. She shivered, the instinct to cover herself abruptly fading when his lips latched onto one of her hardened and sensitive nubs, a strangled whine drawing from her throat when his hand fondled the other. His leg pushed itself between hers and her hips automatically rolled against his thigh, her head lolling back from the combination of sensations. Goosebumps rose along her skin, hairs raising with each graze of his tongue and teeth against her. 

"(Y/N)," She exhaled and whined again when he hummed, his hand lightly squeezing the delicate mound of flesh as he pulled away, a string of saliva connecting his lips to her chest. He chuckled at the sight of it and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes jumping up to her half-lidded ones. 

"I've got you, buttercup." He pressed a kiss to the tan line on her shoulder, his fingers undoing the button and zipper of her shorts and slowly dragging them down. (Y/N) moved his leg and pushed the shorts further down until they fell past her knees and down to her ankles along with the rest of her clothes, her phone thumping softly against the floor when it slid out of the pocket. 

Sarah's arms slipped around his shoulders again when he grabbed her thighs and lifted her, her brain growing more fuzzy from all the sensations rushing through her body. Her lips dragged along the side of his cheek, leaving butterfly kisses behind. He gently set her down on the edge of the pool table, her legs dangling down the sides and cool wood pressing against the underside of her thighs. She reached again for his shirt and pulled it upward, latching her mouth on his when he finally took it off. 

Her back arched automatically when he cupped her chest again, his thumb running over her perky nipple while her hips grinded down against the wood. Sarah's head tilted back again, strands of her hair beginning to stick to her skin from the sweat forming and soft pants escaping her semi-swollen, spit-slick lips. (Y/N) wrapped his fingers on each side of the laces keeping her bikini bottom fastened to her body and pulled on them, tugging the fabric out from underneath her. Sarah's cheeks flushed at the notable wet patch.

"Lay back." (Y/N) told her and her thighs clenched together, a shaky breath leaving her as she lied back, feeling the green fuzz of the baize beneath her on the pool table rub against the heated skin of her back. She took a deep inhale when (Y/N) pried her legs apart, his hands hooked underneath her knees and holding her legs up.

Sarah gasped, her hands flying down to the top of his head when his tongue pressed flat against her slick folds, the vibration of his chuckle enticing another strangled noise from her. She felt hot and woozy, every lick and suckle sending another wave of heat and pleasure through her body. He released one of her legs to rub his thumb against her most sensitive bundle of nerves, the repetitive action ripping a cry from her throat; luckily muffled by the loud singing and rap song playing through the house. Her back arched off the table, her hips raising and grinding against his face desperately. 

While Sarah had envisioned her first time plenty of times, she'd always ensured to lower her expectations with each story her friends told her about their disappointing first time, most of them warning her to keep her expectations low on guys and them preferring receiving over giving. But (Y/N) seemed to find her reactions amusing, almost purposefully seeking out new ways to get her thighs trembling and voice crying with pleas. Her expectations had certainly raised, as had her standards.

When (Y/N) replaced his thumb with his mouth, the agonizing knot that'd formed snapped suddenly, her hips stuttering and trembling legs instinctively clenching around his shoulders as another cry tore through her. He chuckled again and kept his mouth on her as she rode through her high, the overwhelming feeling leaving her lightheaded and bringing tears to her eyes until he leaned back with wet lips and a soaked chin. 

"You good, buttercup?" He asked teasingly as he wiped his mouth again, his voice dripping with amusement at her heaving form. She swallowed, still reeling and unable to form the proper words to respond. Sarah stared at the ceiling above her until she could form coherent thoughts and slowly pushed herself up onto her hands, her hair brushing along her skin. He tilted his head at her. 

"'m fine." Sarah breathed with a soft laugh, wiping away some drool that'd trickled out the corner of her mouth. She ran a hand through her hair to push it back before leaning forward to kiss him again, groaning lowly when she tasted herself on his lips and tongue. Her body pressed against his again, his hands running along her legs and back soothingly. 

She reached down to his jeans, clumsily working on unbuttoning and unzipping them with still trembling hands. (Y/N) hummed against her mouth and pulled back to look down at her hands, a quiet snort escaping him once she finally managed to pop the button and pull the zipper down. His fingers massaged into the fat of her hip, his head lolling to the side and his gaze lifting to meet Sarah's.

"I wasn't expecting to sleep with someone when I got here, Sarah," Somehow, hearing her name rolling off his tongue only made her flush even hotter. "I'm gonna assume you also don't have any condoms stored away either, and I don't think you'd like waiting around for me to find a towel or rag in this big ass house." Sarah internally thanked Rose for being insistent on getting her on birth control the second she entered high school despite the embarrassing conversation that led up to it with her father. 

"I'm on the pill, it'll be fine." Sarah exhaled, her thumbs hooking into the waistband of his briefs and pushing them down as far as she could. She swallowed at the sight of his length, her lips pressing together. She'd seen plenty in her life; dumb drawings on buildings and school property, nudes a select few of her friends would show each other and laugh about, among other things. Still, she felt the nervousness return. 

"Buttercup," (Y/N) pulled her attention back to his face, his brows furrowed and head still tilted. "Are you a virgin?"

She pursed her lips, contemplating lying or saying some sort of flimsy reason for her reaction but ultimately, her shoulders sagged and she gave a meek nod. "It-It's not, like... I've had chances, I just... it never felt like the right moment."

"And now it feels right? With a guy you just met? At a house party?" His brows raised with each question and Sarah swallowed again, pushing back some loose strands over her ear and leaning forward to kiss the corner of his mouth. "Sarah-"

"Yes, it feels right." She murmured, scooting closer to the edge of the table and slipping her legs loosely around his waist, her fingers running along his length and savoring the shudder that ran through him.

Sarah leaned back to look down again, experimenting as she curled her fingers around him and slowly jerked her hand, taking note of each reaction and noise he made. She licked her lips and quickened the pace of her hand with each pump, feeling a hint of pride trickle through her when he groaned and dropped his head on her shoulder. She continued experimenting; squeezing, jerking, and trying different paces while focusing on what earned her more reactions. Sarah grinned when his hips jerked and stuttered, practically beginning to hump into her hand. 

Sucking his teeth, (Y/N) pulled Sarah's hand away and lifted her up and off the table, spinning her around with ease. Sarah blinked, lips parting to question him but a strangled curse left her when (Y/N) pressed against her from behind, pinning her lightly against the pool table. His length pushed between the plushness of her thighs, dragging along her slick folds agonizingly slowly. Her body bent over, her arms bracing against the pool table and her head falling forward with her hair spilling over her face. 

(Y/N) moved his hips slowly, rubbing himself along her thighs and her heat before his hands returned to her hips and pulled her back, only leaving her arms on the table. He drew back and Sarah inhaled, a quiet whine dragging out of her lips when she felt the tip push against her, her mouth falling open as he slowly pushed inside. Her nails dug into her skin, eyes squeezing shut as she felt herself clench instinctively at the intrusion. (Y/N)'s hand ran along her side before cupping her tit again, massaging the flesh gently. 

"Breathe, sweetheart." (Y/N) cooed from behind her, coming to a stop and waiting for her to regain the ability to breathe, only for the air to be pulled from her lungs again when he continued. Her hand fell over his, fingers wrapping around his palm as he continued fondling her chest. The hand on her hip dug into her skin, keeping her steady.

She sighed heavily when he bottomed out, drool dripping from her parted lips that she wiped away once she grew used to the new feeling of being full. "Shit." She whispered when he slowly drew back to the tip, hands planting firmly against the wood of the table and a long, whiny grunt leaving her when he pushed back in, moving slowly while she adjusted once again. 

"Relax," (Y/N) leaned over to peck her shoulder, moving his hand away from her chest and back to her hip, digging his fingers in and slowly moving her hips forward as he drew back before pulling her backward when he drew forward. Sarah's arms trembled, her toes curling in the inside of her shoes and her head tilting back. 

Eventually, the careful pace slowly quickened and Sarah's mind grew jumbled once more, pleas and noises escaping her lips as (Y/N) began snapping his hips in and out of her drooling cunt, the hands on her hips keeping her jelly legs from giving out on her. Her body swayed and jiggled with his movements, the filthy sound of skin slapping together combined with the soft squelch and noises made her skin burst with heat. The knot formed again quickly, each passing second reducing her mind to a mess. 

"(Y/N)!" She cried out in a half-sob when his hand reached down to rub against her clit again, teeth digging into her lip and nearly breaking the skin when the knot burst again and ripped through her; her body practically convulsing and one foot lifting and slamming against the ground repeatedly. 

(Y/N) hardly relented, his arm sliding around her midsection and pulling her back flush against his chest. He mouthed at her neck, his own grunts and huffs muffled against her skin. Sarah raked her nails along his arm, unable to do much else other than release broken noises and incoherent babbling while he chased his own high in thursts that began turning sloppy. Her head dropped back against his shoulder, squirming at the feeling of him pulsing inside her before she released a gasp at the feeling of him pushing deep inside, the both of them nearly staggering when he released. 

"Jesus," (Y/N) murmured, stepping back with uneven breathing and slumping down on the window seat before they could fall. Sarah went limp against him, running her fingers over the scratch marks on his skin apologetically and tilting her head to peer downward. Desire tightened around her gut at the sight of his release oozing out of her slightly, releasing a shaky sigh. She certainly wouldn't forget him. 

"I remember everything," Sarah told him, thankful her long flowy dress hid the way her thighs clenched together involuntarily. She inhaled deeply and snatched a strawberry from a tray, dipping it under the chocolate fountain before biting into it to distract herself from her vivid memories. "You could have said we met at a party or something!" 

"Not a good first impression either," (Y/N) muttered under his breath, grabbing a small golden plate and getting himself a few sweets. 

"Why didn't you mention you moved here? And my brother's been showing you around this whole time?"

"He invited me to that party in the first place, Sarah. I knew he had two younger sisters but he never said their names or described them. Besides, you never mentioned your last name and this place is packed with rich white girls who vaguely look like Rafe." (Y/N) huffed again, taking a bite out of a brownie and glancing over his shoulder toward their parents. "I never said anything about visiting. You made an assumption." 

"An assumption you never bothered to clarify!"

"Okay, look," (Y/N) sighed. "We could try being friends or we pretend it never happened-"

"Oh, is that what you do with all the girls whose virginity you take?" Sarah dropped her voice to a harsh whisper. "You 'pretend it never happened' to avoid talking about it?"

"For the record, I was fine with not going all the way. No, I don't go around sleeping with virgins, Sarah. The only other virgin I've slept with is the one I lost my own virginity to and she's still my fucking girlfriend." (Y/N) snapped in an equally harsh whisper, shoving the rest of the brownie in his mouth and swallowing it down with a drink. Sarah blinked at him, her jaw going slack.

"You have a girlfriend?"

"And you have a boyfriend. So, I'd say we're in agreement on pretending it never happened, yeah?"

[taevescence]

Player 204 | Teaser

Summary: Things in your life had started to fall apart the moment your father passed away. Not only had you lost a part of your family, someone important to you, someone who raised you with blood, sweat and tears; you lost everything, literally. How could you believe that your father, the person you trusted the most, had left you with a ridiculously large debt? There was no possible way you could pay it off, and you definitely wouldn't tell your boyfriend.You were desperate, you would do anything to get rid of that burden, even if it meant going to some children's games to fight against 456 other people, after all, they were just that; simple children's games. Author’s note: Hey! It's me again, being the disorganized and horribly scatterbrained person I am lol. A few months ago, I received this request and had written it, but, you know, I got distracted and had been doing a little bit of everything (sorry). Anyway, I finally decided to post it so you don't think I forgot about it and also because I've been having some issues writing the Yoongi request (my problem? The lack of time lol). Pairing: Taehyung x Reader (female) AUs: Squid Game!AU Word count: 1k Status: Ongoing Permanent Taglist: @thunderg @minjianhyung @queenv1997 @yoongtism @lizzymizzy-blogg @superbbananananana @drpepperobsessed @themwordsblog @taekritimin123 @bluecloudss @yooglefics @tan-veee @angellekookie Dividers by @sisterlucifergraphics

5 years. 5 years had passed since Taehyung decided to turn his life around, to make the decision to leave behind everything he knew and loved in order to finally be free, to grab the most important things and escape from North Korea.

He believed that life on the other side of the country would be better, calmer, more bearable, but he was so damn wrong; he spent months trying to get a job that would give him enough to live decently, tried to settle with the little money he had, but all he found were scams and people with bad intentions who only wanted to take advantage of him, just like they had done in the North.

It was then, when desperation was consuming him and he feared living the rest of his life on the streets, dying of hunger and cold, wishing he had the change he so desperately wanted in his life, that a mysterious man entered his life.

He was a tall, handsome man, wearing a stylish suit and a dark leather briefcase that made him look even more professional than he already was.

This man was the only one who offered him honest help, the one who gave him an out from his miserable life, a life that seemed like it had no happy ending for him. According to the man, the job was simple, all he had to do was… use the skills he had learned during his time in the Northern military, he just had to threaten people who had entered that strange place of their own free will, for ambition.

He never thought they would actually make him pull the trigger, that they would really force him to shoot women, young people barely 20 years old, elderly people, mothers and fathers; he never thought that in order to live in a place as bright and luxurious as South Korea, he would need to kill people as miserable as he was to survive.

But he did it.

He did it because he wanted to live, because he wanted a life like the rest of the world, he wanted to be happy, and the only way to achieve it was this.

At least, that's what he thought until he met you.

You were the daughter of one of the most important businessmen in all of Korea, with perfect manners and a face so beautiful that fashion magazines fought to get even a collaboration with you. You were the damn star of the moment, and Taehyung envied you so much.

When the games were over and he received his pay, he bought a small, simple apartment near the center, got a makeover—because, after a year living in this place, he realized that people were easily swayed by appearance—and got a job at one of your father's companies.

At one of the companies where you also worked as creative director.

He watched you walk back and forth with at least five people around you, how you always seemed to maintain this professional side, testing the company's products and consulting with employees about sales and recommendations.

And he just watched you from afar, feeling his blood boil inside because he hated that someone could have so many things handed to them on a silver platter, because he hated seeing how you acted so sweetly with everyone, how your bright smile and soft voice seemed to charm everyone, how you had more money than he would ever have just because you were lucky enough to be born into a wealthy family.

He tried to convince himself that he hated you, that he envied every detail of your life, but deep down, very deep down, he knew that wasn't the case.

He didn't watch you in secret because he hated you, he didn't wait for you to go to the store where he worked just to judge you with his gaze; Taehyung wanted you to see him, just as he saw you.

And then, one day like any other, you approached the store where he worked.

He still remembered like it was yesterday what you were wearing, remembered how the beautiful, long, elegant dress you had on floated gracefully around you, how the cream-colored coat fell over your shoulders, hiding some of your hair underneath. He also remembered how that day you wore a brand new lipstick that made your lips look a thousand times more kissable, how your eyes seemed to shine just by talking about the work you were doing and how excited you were for it to be done as soon as possible.

He still remembered how, before you left, you turned to look at him one last time, how your cheeks flushed when you realized he was already watching you, and how you awkwardly fled from the store with those five people trying to keep up with you, talking about your upcoming meetings.

Maybe for others, that would have been the first time you spoke, and nothing more, but for you? For Taehyung? That moment was what changed your lives forever, his life.

You had opened a door directly to happiness, and he decided to walk through it with you, hand in hand.

There was just one problem: Taehyung's past could never be erased, and sooner or later, it would catch up to him.

And he only realized that when, through his dark mask, with his rifle in hand, aiming at the players, he saw you, of all people, in the middle of that arena, running toward the goal, trembling every time a shot was fired, every time someone like him shot someone like you.

And only then did he know he was completely destroyed, and that he would do anything to get you out of this damn place, even if it meant you would hate him for the rest of your life.

Masterlist.

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: Wally had had no idea what he'd been looking at. Had barely had a reaction to it apart from subtle feelings of anxiety. In fact, it hadn't inspired anything more than a shrug and the thought of, "Neat. It's a tree."

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.16

It'd been harrowing, playing dumb and doing his best not to think about everything you and he had talked about earlier, but Wally made it out the other side only mildly scathed.

Group adjourned with Mr. Martin's instruction to pick anything but Rudy for tomorrow's Movie Night. Funny that Charley had never mentioned his distaste for the sports movies Wally usually selected before now, but fine, it was fine, Wally didn't feel stung at. all.

Maddie split almost immediately; in pursuit of another lead or to stalk Mr. Anderson or Simon, or Simon stalking Mr. Anderson, Wally wasn't sure, but once he heard the door click behind her, he sagged in relief.

Too soon, he groaned internally. When he looked up he saw Rhonda bolt from her seat and cut through the center of the circle like a shark through water, Charley on her heels.

"What was that?" She challenged, sizing the length of Wally up with a wave of her bare lollipop stem.

"What was what?"

Charley squinted at him, quickly scanned about before he leaned in and furtively said, "Oh, I don't know. How about that monstrosity of a performance you just forced us to participate in?"

Wally gulped, "I—"

"Spare us the crap, puppycat," Rhonda snipped, "We've seen each other's transcripts."

"I saw him misspell fundraiser," Charley added in a mockery of an anecdote Wally had shared during the session. And then, accusingly, "I know you know what a pun looks like."

Wally found himself on the back foot, mind going blank as he groped for an explanation that hedged the truth enough to get him out of Charley and Rhonda's crosshairs, but that didn't expose that he'd already known about the phone call and Mr. Anderson and the hush money.

"I was just...Uh..."

Unfortunately, Charley and Rhonda were too damn smart and your skill of inventing plausible excuses on the spot hadn't yet rubbed off on him. Inwardly, he reinforced his defenses and prepared for the Spanish Inquisition (nobody expects it).

"Walter," Rhonda said, blade-sharp, and Wally winced at her use of his Government name, "I know you think it's sweet to play clueless meathead in front of your crush—"

Oh. Okay. Sure. "That's—"

"—but, trust me, it doesn't work. Don't dumb yourself down just to get her to like you." Rhonda finished with a long-suffering roll of her eyes. An action that translated to mother-hen affection in a normal person.

"Besides," Charley said, a slack hint of sass to his syllables, "I think she just wants to figure things out. Not play tonsil hockey with a ghost who probably shared biology with the teacher that murdered her."

Wally tried to make his face react appropriately, had no idea if he pulled it off, but Charley and Rhonda didn't comment so he assumed it couldn't have been too bad.

"I don't think Mr. A is that old," Wally mumbled, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "But...thanks, guys."

Charley's expression mollified, "Anytime, big guy."

Wally had to acknowledge that it was nice that his friends cared about him. That they saw him as more than the overexcited golden retriever they often criticized him of being and wanted to make sure he wasn't trying to people-please his way into someone's heart. Though it still didn't dull the ache in his belly from discovering no one actually enjoyed his Top 5 and had only been humoring him for probably a decade or two.

He was fine.

In feigned bitterness, "Well, I've done my good deed for the day," Rhonda announced, pushing past Wally to head for the door, "Let's go."

Wally turned as if to follow her only to catch Ajay's eye before he could commit to the action. He remembered then what Ajay had told him in the faculty lounge about showing Wally something he 'needed to see'. Something Ajay inferred had to do with why he and the others were trapped on school property.

"I'll catch up in a bit," He called after Charley and Rhonda, backstepping toward Ajay to make his intentions obvious.

Charley shot Wally a lazy salute, "We'll be in the library for a while," and then turned on his heel to trail after Rhonda.

After decades of being in each other's pockets, it wasn't uncommon for members of their haunt to seek time one-on-one with each other. Everyone respected the unspoken exclusivity without comment and was especially understanding toward Wally, who had been the only teenage guy amongst them until 1992.

Bernie and Katelynn greeted Wally as he approached Ajay, though soon took their leave, Katelynn with a small and bashful, "See ya, Wally."

"Bye Katy-Cat." He said through a charming smile, ruffling her hair when she came into reach.

Katelynn shoved his arm away playfully, blowing Wally a raspberry before she continued over to the empty circle, immediately setting to work helping Mr. Martin and Bernie stack the chairs.

Wally turned back to Ajay, "Alright, my guy, where to?"

They exited through the side door, sunlight temporarily blinding Wally after having spent an hour sitting in the poorly lit gym. Not giving Wally's eyes a chance to adjust, Ajay took him by the elbow and physically maneuvered him in the right direction.

"It won't seem like much," Ajay warned, "so you need to trust me." He released Wally's elbow when Wally began to move under his own power, and hurried his stride.

"I do trust you," Wally replied, voice bouncing as he picked up his pace to match Ajay's. "Whatever you're gonna show me, it's gotta be important."

Ajay's ears reddened. "Thank you."

They were headed toward the treeline along the backside of the school, the field spread out to Wally's right. Down the steps, along the path, picnic tables and chainlink fence. Cheerleaders practiced their pyramid and the junior gym class played kickball.

Anxiety began to creep over Wally as they neared the boundary line, a slow and subtle discharge of fear frequency transmitting across his brain in a cold flush.

"Heeey, are you sure this is the right way?" Wally had to ask, his skin starting to feel clammy and too tight on the bones of his fingers. He began to slow his steps, afraid of being circus-canoned back to the 5-yard line, but Ajay plowed ahead without concern. "Dude?"

Wally almost rammed into him for how abruptly Ajay stopped, the toes of Ajay's shoes so close to the invisible line it gave Wally heart palpitations.

"There." Ajay said, pointing at a tree that stood approximately two meters beyond the school grounds.

The tree wasn't anything special. Tall, leafy, burled in various places up its trunk, and roots weaved and whorled around its base, some thick enough to sit on comfortably. Carved initials and numbers and heart shapes by students who'd wanted to immortalize their memory in its bark. It was the kind of thing one would expect from a tree in a private area near a building full of teenagers, really.

"What am I looking at?" Wally asked.

"I don't know what it means, so don't ask me," Ajay stated, clearly preempting that Wally would have questions after whatever Ajay was preparing to demonstrate. Ajay crouched to gather a stone from the ground, "Watch this."

He tossed the stone. It smacked the tree, dislodging a piece of loose bark from the center of a crooked heart—bullseye—and fell without fanfare into a nest of roots, a thin poof of dirt raised on impact.

Wally waited for something to happen. And waited. A n d waited.

"I don't get it." He said after a few uneventful beats. "Was something supposed to happen?"

"It did happen." Ajay insisted, bending to pick up another stone that he handed to Wally and motioned for him to throw it at the tree.

It hit, denting the bark, but again, that was the end of it. Wally peered up at the leaves—unruffled—then down at the roots—inert—and finally back at Ajay who pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Watch this." He commanded, scooping up another stone as he marched a few feet away. "Are you paying attention?" He asked, not unkindly; an earnest bid for Wally's focus.

Wally gave him a tight smile, "Yup," and a thumbs up, taking a few steps closer to prove the point.

Ajay flung the stone. Except, this time, it ricocheted back as soon as it pierced the barrier. Disappeared for a blink and then spat back out, flying in the reverse direction. Ajay threw his arms up and protected his face a split-second before the stone struck him, bouncing off his forearm to land with a thud at his feet.

Wally's jaw dropped, "What the shit?"

"Do you get it now?" Ajay questioned, dusting off his hands as he strolled back to Wally.

With a frown, "Sort of?" Wally reached for the barrier, not quite touching for fear of what could happen and where he'd end up, but just enough to feel its presence warm the palm of his hand. "I guess it would be too easy if we could go through, huh?"

"I attempted it a couple of times," Ajay shook his head, "Either way, the barrier is definitely weakest here. And," He paused, building suspense, "At four other points around the school."

Eyes fixed on the tree, Wally hypothesized, "If we figure out how to weaken it more at any of these points, we might be able to get out of here..."

"We just might," Ajay concurred, "I tried finding information in the library and the computer lab, but—" It was a Christian school board, he didn't have to say, and occult topics were heavily filtered.

There weren't likely to be any useful books available and the online network was limited, browsers blocking sites the school didn't want its students to visit. Wally's knowledge of the latter was an embarrassing smear on his reputation that he'd had to beg Charley to keep secret.

He shoved the memory back in its box and once more buried it in the darkest recesses of his mind.

Never again...

"You think my girl would know how to handle this?" Wally asked despite having already determined he was going to tell you about the barrier's weak points. He just wanted to make sure Ajay was aware and on board.

Ajay shrugged, "She certainly has access to more resources than we do. Couldn't hurt to mention it."

It was settled. Squaring his shoulders and straightening his spine, Wally broke his scrutiny of the tree and turned to Ajay.

"Alright, then, show me what we're working with."

💀___________________________

PART FIFTEEN - PART SEVENTEEN

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[cowboyjen68]

Hi!!

I just wanted to ask some advice from one butch to another.

I recently got my dream job of being a warden on a nature reserve (and i love it!), while interacting with people there I get called a young man very often (i am 18 lol) and it gives me euphoria to know im masculine enough to even pass as a man. I've also had some volunteers ask if I was a man or not (despite my feminine name).

But recently I got called a "lady" outside while out with my mother. It drove me INSANE I cried alot.

Don't get me wrong I do identify as a woman but I hate being seen as a lady.

I've even thought about using he/him pronouns recently and changing my name but i'm too scared to as most people won't understand bc im still a lesbian.

Is this strange?

ps love u and ur blog lots xx

This is an easy answer because I was 18 once and looked enough like a teenage boy that I got "hey sport" and "hey young man" all the time, especially when in my work clothes. I worked for The Mayor's Youth Corp in Iowa City in the summers of my 15th and 16th year. Mom and Dad let me get a work permit AND bought me a used Datsun Pickup so I could drive myself the 20 miles there and back each day.

I was a volunteer with the Corp of Engineers youth from 14 to 16 and Dad knew I was super excited about this job. Mom was not thrilled that I wanted to cut my hair but my "grand mullet" was really hot under the hard hat in the summer heat of Iowa. (in the 1980's boys and girls had the short in front long and permed in back look) We compromised and I cut the sides really short. (photo of my me at 16 in my uniform for reference)

Using "he" would never have occurred to me because "EWWW Boys". This is not to say, however, that I hated being mistaken for a boy, on the contrary, it felt good. When someone thought I was a young man it meant they treated me as such. They didn't talk down to me, I knew they assumed I was capable and willing to get dirty. I knew unconsiously that along with the mistaken identity came many perks. This was nothing I analyzed but little girls see very early on the difference in treatment they recieve from their brothers, male cousins and neighborhood boys. This difference leads us to become negotiators to control our circumstances and not entittled to treatment based on our skills and actual personalies.

When an adult recognized me as a boy, even for a second at first glance, I knew I didn't have to prove myself. They, for an instant, assigned to me words like "strong, capable, demanding etc". No negotations required.

When someone realized I was a girl they literally had a change in their face. They smiled at me, softened their voice. When I was called "young lady" or "Miss" it always seemed to be backed my the worst assumptions (in my mind anyway). Lady is steeped in all kinds of traits I didnt want assigned to me. "quiet, weak, likes to dress pretty"OR "motherly, submissive, meek" Nothing good in my teen brain, that is for sure. Lady felt so OLD, so married to a man and reliant on him for survival, so polyster pants and ugly flats and scratchy blouses with a flower imprint. NONE of these things are inherent to being a woman or even socially forced on us but that is not how things work sometimes. Words that describe people get stereotypes and myths and traits attached to them all the time. Woman and girl are no different.

I can tell you, the best feeling in the world when I was in that job was when my supervisor, who damn well knew I was a young woman, trusted me with all the same tasks as the boys. Who valued my opinions and abilities equally to the young men. He took time to teach me what I didn't know, just like with them and didn't assume I couldn't or didn't want to learn things on the job. He didn't shame ANYONE for not being strong enough or for getting tired or needing a break.

Don't let the assumptions of others force you into another box of conformity. You don't need a boys name or to use any pronouns you don't feel connected to just to please others. In fact, none of that effort will change perceptions of those around you. I can promise that one day being called Lady will just be another word that you can hear and know it does not change your personality or your interests or control the hope you have for your future. What does waste a lot of time and energy is trying to adjust things in your life to fit incorrect or snap assumptions about you as a person. You can never control the thoughts of those around you but what you can do is stop worrying about it and enjoy YOU.

You have a job you love and are sure to thrive in. You are solid in your sexuality and love of women, you are in a unique position to possibly change the perceptions of others when they think of "young women". Your interactions with the public are sure to effect the assumpions of at least some people when they think of young women and their roles in our society.

Congratulations on your new career and I bet you rock that uniform.