#Is it wrong that my father is hanging out all the time or drinking or smoking despite my mother asking him not to

[08luvmailz]

★ ﾟ๑ PARTY ON YOU ୧ ⊹ ࣪

ᡴꪫ which yeon sieun shuts you after he transferred schools ୧ ⊹ ࣪ second part ／console me, and then i'll leave without a trace ୧ ⊹ ࣪ third part ／ I'd do anything just for me to see you again ──⠀ angst / no comfort , set before ep1 of s2 ⸝⸝ ◜◡◝ i just read some fanfics on wattpad and some are just with sieun after the events of season 1... i just have a feeling that he can push someone away from his life.. even if it hurts him too.

There was a time when she thought, what happened to us? where did it all go wrong?

In sixteen years of living, love had always felt like a distant star — something warm and beautiful, yet always out of reach. To love was a risk. To be loved, a miracle. And in between, she simply learned how to live without expecting either.

Her love for taekwondo had been constant, unwavering. It was a language she was taught at a ripe age of 4 with her father, trophies made him happy. It was a bond that she shared with him, to make him feel proud, strong, and it feeds his ego. She was the best, she had to be—for him. But as she grows it withers slowly, so is her dad, until what once felt like an unbreakable connection became fragile, like a leaf caught in a fading breeze.

Ballet was a profound hope — the kind that stretched her limbs and lifted her heart, a yearning for her mother's approval that she could never quite grasp. Each pirouette, each graceful leap, was a silent plea for validation. But the nagging, the expectations that came with it, only weighed her down, turning what was once her sanctuary into a cage.

Her mother had once been a prima ballerina, graceful and untouchable, a star that shone brightly in the world of dance. But then she had given birth to her — and with that, the light dimmed. Seventeen years of her life felt like a constant shadow, as if she, the daughter, was the mistake that interrupted her mother’s prime.

In her, eyes. She is the reflection of what she could be.

But alas, in all of this, it was hardest to be loved. Her peers, so quick to judge, had no room for the simple truth of her heart. To boast was to be called egoistic, to stand tall in her own strength was a crime of arrogance. Yet, if she became humble, they whispered that she sought validation — attention, as if her quiet steps were nothing more than a plea for free applause.

Her personality was a mere bubble— shiny, radiant, reflecting the world around her with a brilliance that caught the light. She became what they wanted to see, a mirror of their expectations, fitting in. But beneath the facade, emptiness, hollow. The reflection wasn't hers to begin with, she wore a mask to survive, as soon as it pops, she was nothing.

She had once been bubbly. Loud in the most sincere way — laughing with her whole chest, arms always outstretched as if the world was waiting to be hugged. But the world didn't hug back. It recoiled. Her light became too much, her joy became annoying, and slowly, quietly, she folded in on herself.

Then there was him, Suho.

That haul ass, he actually did.

He saw her like no one does, not some attention seeker, threat or whatever her classmates called her. But, some lonely kid who accidently trips on his desk and apologize meekly for waking him up. It's like at the snap of his fingers — they were friends, it felt so strange on the tip of her tongue. It wasn't on her vocabulary to call someone 'a friend', she smiled at the thought, she could finally say "mom, im with a friend. oh, im hanging out with my friend. Dad, i'll be late. Im with suho, he's the delivery kid"

He was there for her, vice versa. They share drinks, he taught her some tricks. Rode his mop of a motorcycle and helps him sometimes (she begs to help) in his deliveries, taught her to ride his motorcycle but was banned from ever driving it because they almost crashed, gifted him on his birthday that pig like arm-rest pillow because he sleeps during class, anytime—anywhere.

After Suho, came Sieun — the boy with a mind like steel and a heart he kept under lock. She hadn’t meant to break in. She just smiled at him one day, really smiled, all softness and quiet light. And instead of turning away, he looked at her — really looked — but he quickly turned away and do what he always do, study.

It wasn’t much, but it was everything.

After that, they became closer (she and suho forced themselves in his, peaceful life and made it their profound home). He didn’t speak much, but she learned to read the pauses between his words, the silence that carried more weight than most voices ever could. And in those small, strange moments, something unspoken bloomed — not loud like laughter, but steady like breath.

Beomseok joined last — hesitant and unsure, the quiet space-filler who stood at the edge of the light until he learned how to laugh without apology. With them, he found a version of himself that didn’t have to shrink. And she noticed — the way he kept things to himself, always smiling, always deflecting. But underneath it all, he was alone. Like her. And she respected him for that — for surviving in silence, for fighting battles no one could see. It was like they spoke a secret language, stitched together by glances and almosts. If Suho hadn’t been the first to crack her open, to teach her that loud kindness could feel safe — it might’ve been Beomseok.

They were alike, it felt like it. She never asked for more than he could give. He would treat her to milk tea without a word, and she would tag him in her stories like a quiet thank-you — ‘he bought this for us today’. His presence was constant, and sometimes, constancy felt close enough to love.

The four of them never made sense, heck their personalities mixed in a wheel. But together, it felt like home, peace. They make it— make sense.

She remembered that day, where Beomseok invited them in a fancy cafe, the three of them were underdressed in hoodies and jackets and and scuffed shoes, while she had worn something a little too nice — something she thought might match the place. Suho took one look at them and laughed, nudging her playfully. ‘We look like your bodyguards,’ he said, grinning. ‘Or your butlers,’ Beomseok added with a rare, easy laugh, raising his brow. ‘Maybe you’re the one who’ll be paying, princess.’ She rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her chest was real, golden.

And Sieun, he said nothing. Just watching the scene as it played across the table that ever-neutral mask on his face. But then, for just a second, the corner of his mouth curved. A small, tipped smile — fleeting, quiet, but it was there. And she held onto it like a pressed flower in the pages of her memory.

Or when she invited them to her house to make shakes she shared at the group chat. Chaos, and wasted ingredients lingered on her mind.

She remembered nights they spent on rooftops eating instant noodles. Suho would tell dumb jokes, Beomseok would laugh too hard, and Sieun would roll his eyes but never leave. She remembered the market stall — her and Sieun, shoulder to shoulder, sharing a hot bowl of doenjang jjigae on a cold day, pinky fingers brushing as they both reached for the last piece of tofu. He didn’t pull away.

They had made a promise that day.

"Next time, we'll get our own bowls"

"No, let's keep sharing. Its more delicious to share with... friends"

He nodded at her and the promised was sealed.

There was the photobooth too — that cramped, blinking little box on the corner of a busy arcade. She and Beomseok had practically dragged Suho and Sieun inside, laughter already bubbling before the first flash. Suho’s long legs stuck out from under the curtain, his face half-covered as the fabric kept hitting him. He grumbled through a smile, ever dramatic. Sieun sat stiffly in the corner, back too straight, unsure what to do with his hands, his expression tight but his presence willing. And Beomseok — sweet, ridiculous Beomseok — came back with an armful of props. Sunglasses too big, fake mustaches, and a tiara that she insisted Suho to wear.

They argued over poses, switched hats mid-frame, and by the time the countdown hit one, they had given up on perfection. They just laughed. Uncoordinated and chaotic, but real.

She kept the strip, in a frame to look at. To reminisce.

At that point, she felt like on the cloud. It felt like she was dreaming, its too good, she dreamt of this before where she would have friends who are there for her and she would be too. But every dream turns to be a nightmare when she woke.

She wished to never woke up.

She wished it will just be the same as it was before.

She wished she helped, noticed, talk.

She wished it all.

She just wished, but she never acted.

She never did, she watched it all happen.

In a snap, it all crumbled down.

And it crumbled them apart, them. The 4 of them, nothing.

But then came the fight. The blood. The hospital room with fluorescent lights that never flickered off. Suho, broken and still. Beomseok, shattered in ways they didn’t see until it was too late. And Sieun — closed off tighter than ever, fists clenched, eyes wild with a grief he refused to name.

It all fell apart, the shared laughter, the whispers during class bothering Sieun. Everything falling apart.

She held him when he broke down in that sterile hallway, her arms around his trembling body. She thought they were in this together.

Then he left.

He left, without a goodbye.

Not even a glance, not a word.

No messages, calls.

Just absence, his lingering precense, silence.

She waited for him, days turns to weeks, to months.

She called. Texted. Wrote long, tearful messages and erased them. She even waited outside the hospital, hoping he’d come back. Sometimes she’d fall asleep in the hallway chair, cold noodles beside her, unread texts blinking on her phone screen like a cruel joke.

He never replied.

She scoffed and chuckled softly. It was all typical.

Of course, It's Sieun after all.

In the end, she had to bribe a teacher. Just a little. Nothing serious. Just a favor passed in whispers, the gentle weight of desperation folded inside an envelope. A name. A connection. A sliver of a chance.

She hadn’t meant to go this far, but silence was starting to rot in her chest, and she couldn’t take another unanswered message blinking cold on her screen. By some cruel or kind miracle, her homeroom teacher — warm, a little nosy, but always kind — happened to know the man who owned the building Sieun now lived in.

And that was her signal. To go and visit him.

She packed carefully. His favorite brand of milk, chilled and sweating in her bag. A container of doenjang jjigae — just like the one they shared at that tiny market stall, the day they had laughed, just the two of them, broth steaming between them, future humming on their tongues and a bouquet of asters and pink camellias — for longing, for the soft, aching kind of love that tiptoes around the edge of confession.

She took two rides.

Two painful rides.

Two long, aching rides through the city’s breathless gray sky as her head leaning against cold windows, eyes tracking strangers who passed too fast to remember.

She didn't mind the wait.

It made her relentless, muttering softly the words she memorize to say.

Hi, its been a long time

Hi, you hungr- no scratch that it's too casual.

Hey, its been a long time. It sounded like the first one though...

Hey, Sieun. How are you? I bought some doenjang jjigae...

Her legs ached from waiting, her bag was heavier than usual — not from weight, but from meaning.

Still, she clutched it like a promise.

The milk. The stew. The flowers.

The shared memories.

She imagined what must be his reaction, would he smile, say sorry. But she couldn't imagine anything...its been too long since she last saw him, talked to him.

The building stood tall, too tall, like a giant of cold stone and glass. She glanced up, and her nerves betrayed her, sending her heart into a rapid dance at each step she took felt like a dream, her body moving on its own while her mind stayed behind, watching — detached, unsure.

The doors loomed ahead, distant yet close, a threshold she couldn't cross fast enough. Her breath was shallow, a quiet tremor in her hands, but she continued as her fingers brushed the buzzer, cold and sharp against her skin.

She rang the doorbell with a trembling hand, rehearsing her lines in her head.

“Hey, it’s been a while… I brought dinner.”

All of the memorized scriptures all felt crumbling as the door opened.

To her dismay.

Not him.

It was his mother.

She never bowed that fast, “Annyeonghaseyo,” she said, bowing deeply. “Is Sieun here?” As the silence crept as she waited for her answer as she stood infront of her timidly like a twig.

“I’m his mother,” the woman replied warmly. “Who are you?”

But before she could reply, at the corner of her eye.

Its him.

Its really him, Sieun-ah.

Her breath caught. Her pulse slowed and quickened all at once.

Yeon Sieun.

Same cold eyes, same unreadable mouth. He paused when he saw her. She waited for something to soften. Anything.

Nothing, pure silence on words but just footsteps.

“Oh, Sieun-ah,” his mother turned to him, surprised. “Is she your friend? You didn’t tell me she was coming.” His mother waited for his reply and that was it.

He said it. And all she could hear was emptiness.

Her world crumbled, all of it.

“I don’t have any friends. I don’t know her.”

He said it so softly, but why does it hurt when its supposed to be soft— his tone.

The silence after was suffocating.

She didn’t cry. Not yet.

She smiled instead — bitter and tight, her lips trembling at the edges. “Oh. I’m sorry, ma’am. He’s not the Sieun I knew. I must have the wrong floor.” She bowed again, lower this time, a goodbye written in the bend of her back. Her eyes closed to let her tears inside.

And, she turned away. Without a word.

The hallway stretched like a punishment. She kept her head high, but her hands shook. The elevator dinged too loudly.

At the trash bin, she paused. She looked at her hand was the flowers, a bouquet of asters and pink camellias — longing a person my ass. Carefully, she placed the flowers inside — the petals already wilting, the ribbon curling like regret.

She rode the elevator down in silence.

She walked in silence, the food swinging rapidly as she walked, she don't care anymore if it spilled.

She was so hungry, so tired.

She sat on the bench of the bus stop, its 7 already.

She sat down, opened the container, and let the scent of doenjang jjigae wash over her. Her stomach clenched. She took a bite. And then another.

And then she cried — not softly, not prettily. Just full, shaking sobs into the sleeve of her coat, stew forgotten on her lap.

She ate alone.

She sobbed alone. She ate while sobbing, its so pathetic.

She felt like its all junior high all over again, eating on the bathroom. Alone.

The warmth of the soup was gone, and so was their friendship.

She remembered the photograph of the photobooth, she remembered it, every detail even if it wasn't with her.

He looked at her, like he almost could have loved her.

All of it was just a mere joke.

And all she had left was the taste of something they once shared — now hers, now hollow.

♡ note ───── party on you party on you party on you party on you party on you party on you party on you party on you party on you party on you party on you party on you

[santaasi]

iris

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: jj maybank struggled all his life just to finally find home in your arms

warnings: fluff, slight angst at the start, no use of y/n, english isn’t my first language

word count: 3.9k

a/n: bringing myself comfort after the spoilers for the final of s4. my baby boy deserved a lot more.

ᯓ★ now playing…

goo goo dolls - iris

And I don't want the world to see me

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am

IT WAS SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT — something so profound that JJ couldn't begin to describe it in words. Yet, he felt it in every cell of his body, in the deepest, most secret corners of his soul. It was as if he was staring into the vastness of the universe, into the boundless, all-consuming darkness that had terrified him since childhood. But now... now it glowed with a hundred, a million, a billion tiny stars — simple, yet magnificent clusters of light that transformed everything in an instant. You became his universe, his everything, and in that moment, everything changed.

JJ would be lying if he said he didn’t remember the exact moment — the exact second — he first met you. He remembered it vividly, like it was etched into his very bones, because that moment was his Big Bang. It was the spark that created the whole universe from nothing, with you as its center, pulling him into an orbit he never thought he’d find.

It was an ordinary day — at least, by JJ’s standards. A typical day filled with drinking, weed, hanging out with Pogues, and the all-too-familiar beatings from his father. After the last one, all he craved was solitude — just to be alone, to fade into the nothingness. To disappear. To stop feeling the weight of pain, to stop wondering what he had done wrong, to stop seeing the pity in his friends’ eyes whenever he showed up at the Chateau, bruised and broken.

For a fleeting moment, he wished he could stop being JJ Maybank — the lost, troubled boy everyone knew — and just be... himself. If only he knew who that was anymore.

It was night — a surprisingly cold summer night. The air carried a chill that seemed at odds with the warmth of the season, but even so, JJ found his haven between the soothing waves. The ocean cradled him gently, rocking him like a child in a mother’s arms, as if the water itself was trying to heal him. He lay on his stomach, his face dipping under the surface, seeking solace in the cool embrace of the sea, trying to drown out the swarm of thoughts buzzing endlessly in his mind.

How long had he been lying there? He couldn’t say. Time had blurred into the rhythm of the waves, and for a moment, he didn’t care. He didn’t expect the next moment to be so... startling.

You stopped just a few meters away, your breath coming in quick, heavy gasps. Your hair clung to your face, and the water began to bite at your skin with its coldness. And yet, in that brief flash of moonlight, JJ swore he’d never seen anything more beautiful than you — divine, even. The glow of the moon reflected off the water, casting a silver sheen over you, making everything seem surreal. Your slightly parted lips, your wide eyes, all caught in the stillness of the night, made something inside him twist. At that moment, he realized something, something terrifying: he was a goner.

"What the hell?"

The words slipped out in unison, an awkward moment of shared surprise. You raised an eyebrow, the frustration and relief mixing in your gaze before you splashed water in his face.

"Are you asking me what the hell?" you said, voice tinged with disbelief. "You were literally floating face down! I thought you were dead!"

JJ blinked, caught off guard, and shook his head, sending droplets flying in every direction. He didn’t respond immediately — his mind was still trying to catch up. He just stared at you, the way the moonlight danced on your skin, how the cold seemed to wash away everything else. There was something about you that both unsettled and comforted him, a mix he couldn’t quite place.

"Yeah, well," he muttered, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his lips, trying to brush it off. "I wasn’t, like, dead. I mean, not really." His voice was hoarse, raw with something he hadn’t let anyone hear in a long time. It barely masked the emptiness he’d been drowning in just moments ago. "Just needed a swim. Didn’t mean to scare you."

You crossed your arms under the water, rolling your eyes, but a soft smile played at the edges of your lips. "Just an ordinary midnight swim, huh?" you teased. But there was a knowing look in your eyes, like you could see through the mask. "I thought I was going to have to explain to the police tomorrow that some guy was found swimming in the ocean. ‘Local girl finds body in the water,’ you know? Not exactly the first week I imagined."

JJ raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "Wait... you’re new here?"

You nodded, brushing your wet hair from your face, a small sigh escaping you as you did. "Yeah, I moved here a few days ago. Needed to start fresh, I guess." Your gaze shifted toward the shore, distant, but not quite lost. "Thought the ocean might help clear my head."

He could relate to that, more than he wanted to admit. He nodded without thinking, something about you felt... different. "Yeah," he said softly, his voice almost vulnerable. "Outer Banks isn’t paradise, but... it could be worse." The words slipped out before he could stop them, softer than he wanted, like a door that had been closed for too long suddenly creaking open. He hadn’t expected to share anything, but with you, it didn’t feel like sharing — it felt more like breathing.

The wind picked up, sending a chill over the water. You shivered slightly, pulling your arms tighter around yourself. JJ noticed, instinctively stepping closer, despite still standing in the water.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle but laced with concern. "Cold night for a swim."

The irony of the moment wasn’t lost on him — he, too, had come to the water to escape, to disappear. But with you standing there, he didn’t feel quite as invisible. And that scared him more than he wanted to admit.

You shrugged, looking toward the shore, but your eyes softened. "Yeah, just... a tough day, I guess. I thought the water might help me forget for a little while."

A bitter laugh slipped from JJ’s lips, and he didn’t try to hide it. "Well, looks like you found the right company for that," he said, his words more raw than he’d intended. But somehow, it felt natural to talk like this, to say things he hadn’t said to anyone in a long time. With you, it didn’t feel so forced.

You turned toward him, your expression softening. There was understanding in your eyes — like you’d been there too. "Tough day too, huh?" you said quietly, your voice almost lost in the stillness of the night.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The world seemed to hold its breath, the ocean around you a calm, sacred space. In that silence, something passed between you — unspoken, but real. As if for that moment, you both shared something intangible, something neither of you could put into words.

Finally, you broke the quiet, your voice teasing but gentle. "So... are you always this mysterious, or did I just pick the perfect time to meet you?"

A laugh escaped him, more genuine than he expected. "Maybe a little of both." He let the silence stretch on, comfortable now. For the first time in ages, he felt seen, and it wasn’t as frightening as he thought it would be.

It was ridiculous, he thought — how could a complete stranger, someone he’d just met in the middle of the ocean, at some ungodly hour, feel like they were filling a space inside him he never knew was empty?

But when he looked at you, he felt something shift, something deep inside. Something real. Something alive.

"JJ," he finally said, his voice breaking the silence. The sound of his own name felt unfamiliar, like a piece of himself he hadn’t shared in too long.

You gave him a soft smile that reached your eyes, warm and knowing. "Nice to meet you, JJ."

AND THERE IT WAS — his universe had changed. The Big Bang.

After that night, JJ couldn’t think about anything but you. Your presence consumed him, yet in a way that felt like coming alive for the first time. He found himself drifting into your orbit, again and again, as if fate itself had been guiding him toward you all along. But while he believed in fate, you thought it was just chance.

It wasn’t long before JJ began to learn more about you, obsessing over every little detail. He learned that you loved spending your free time on the beach, reading books. Books that he had never bothered with before, but now he listened to them at double speed just to be able to talk to you about them. You had a habit of finding solace in the water, the way the waves seemed to ease the weight of the world from your shoulders. And he learned that you worked in a small diner on the Cut, a place that barely registered on anyone else’s radar but was now a part of his daily life.

It became his mission to visit those places. To catch your eye, exchange a few words. He even went to some Save the Turtles event with Kie — something he’d never have attended before — just to see you, just to find a reason to talk.

He didn't know why he was so drawn to you. Why waking up felt a little easier when he thought about you. Why his days felt less suffocating when he could see you by the ocean, or feel your warmth when you wrapped him up in your arms. And most importantly — why, in a world where he wanted to stay invisible, he wanted you to see him. Because no one, not even the closest people in his life, had ever truly understood him like you did.

It might have sounded corny, but JJ knew you were different. He didn’t want to undress you or get you into bed first, like he did with other girls. He wanted to talk to you. He wanted to know you. He wanted to be near you — not in a rushed, desperate way, but slowly, patiently, like the world had all the time for them. And that terrified him. Because everything in his life felt like it was bound to break, and he was scared of getting too close, only to watch it all fall apart.

But you made him feel like he was floating, like he was finally seeing the light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. And even if it didn’t last forever, he would take it. It was worth it.

Because at some moment you became his safe place. His home.

JJ DIDN'T REMEMBER THE EXACT MOMENT HE FIRST CAME TO YOUR HOUSE, or why he couldn’t go back to the Chateau after the latest fight with his father. He just knew that he had found his way to you. It wasn’t a conscious choice. It was as if the universe had decided that, for once, he deserved peace. So, he climbed up to your balcony, hiding from the world, just to see you.

The moment he stepped inside, he felt the weight of everything lift from his chest. You didn't need to ask questions, you didn’t need explanations. You just held him — no judgment, no demands. Just there. Your hands gently cupped his face, and in that simple gesture, everything felt easier. It was like you knew exactly how much he needed to be held together. The comfort in your touch was so raw, so real, that it felt like he could stay there forever and nothing would ever hurt him again.

"Hey, JJ," you whispered softly as you cleaned the cuts on his knuckles. "You're okay. It's just another day. We'll get through it."

Your words were soft, but they carried a weight. The kind of weight that made him feel like, maybe, for the first time in his life, he wasn’t carrying all the burden on his own.

"Yeah, we will," he whispered looking in your eyes finding solace in it. "How'd your day go?" he asked quietly, almost as an afterthought, as you dabbed at a cut on his forehead.

You smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You know, the usual. Serving coffee, cleaning tables... Same old stuff. But then again, it’s a good distraction.”

And JJ realized, right then, that this wasn’t just about him. It wasn’t just about the mess of his life. It was about the way you understood him without needing to understand everything. You were healing him, piece by piece, without even knowing it.

You were there, not because you had to be, but because you wanted to be. And when you laid him down in your bed, curling up beside him, you whispered about your day at work, your own small struggles. You shared your world with him, and somehow, it made his feel a little less heavy.

IT WASN'T LONG BEFORE JJ OPENED UP TO YOU, really opened up in a way he had never done before. It was a slow burn at first. He kept his distance, guarding you from the mess that was his life. But the longer he stayed, the more he realized that you were the one who saw him. All of him — the messed-up, broken parts that he tried so hard to hide from everyone else. And when he realized you weren’t scared of that, he finally let go.

"I used to think that if I told you about my life, you'd leave," he admitted one night, his voice thick with raw emotion. "But... you didn’t. You stayed."

You looked at him, your expression tender, your hands tracing the edge of his jawline. "I'm not going anywhere, JJ. Not unless you want me to."

And that was the moment he knew — he had found someone who understood him in a way no one ever had. No one ever would.

One night, after sharing stories and secrets until the stars outside had started to fade, you both found yourselves standing close, the air thick with unspoken words. There was a nervousness between you, but also a tenderness that neither of you had known before. JJ leaned in, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was soft, hesitant, and filled with the kind of understanding that only comes when two people truly see each other. His lips were warm against yours, the moment suspended in time. And as he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, he whispered softly, “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

You didn’t need to say anything in return. The truth was already in your eyes, in the way you pulled him closer, your hands tracing the lines of his back like you were memorizing him. He didn’t need forever. He didn’t need promises. He just needed this. You. Now. And that was enough.

THE EVENING WAS SETTLING INTO ITS QUIET RYTHM AT THE CHATEAU. The Pogues were scattered around, some laughing, some lost in their own thoughts, and some just lounging by the bonfire. The air smelled faintly of saltwater and smoke, the crackling warmth from the fire barely reaching the edge of the pier. The world felt suspended in a beautiful hush, as though the universe itself had exhaled, and for the briefest of moments, everything stood still.

But despite the presence of his friends, despite the fire, the laughter, and the constant noise that filled every corner of the Chateau, JJ was focused only on you. Your presence was like gravity, pulling him closer to something real, something tangible. You were his escape, his universe — shaped not by chaos and pain, but by a quiet peace he had never known until you.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked softly, lifting your head from his shoulder. Your voice was gentle, threading through the sea breeze that fluttered your hair, causing it to stray in wisps across your face. You frowned slightly as the breeze brushed against your skin, the hair teasing at your cheek in an almost playful, yet annoying way. He loved how you could get lost in these little moments, how even the simplest things seemed to pull you in.

JJ, ever the thinker, gazed out at the vast ocean, where the horizon was a delicate line between the fading light of the day and the endless mystery of the night. There was something about the sea — so unpredictable, so endless — that made him feel both small and infinite. It was like he could feel the weight of the universe pressing on his chest, but at the same time, it gave him a sense of freedom, of release.

He shook his head, not really having the words to explain the depth of his thoughts, of how you had become his entire universe in such a short time. He leaned down, brushing his lips against your forehead in a kiss that felt like a promise, like a quiet vow he was ready to keep forever.

"I love you," he said simply, the words falling so easily from his lips it startled him. It was like his heart had always known the truth, but now, with you, it could finally speak it. He turned to face you, his hands gently cupping your face, and pushed a strand of hair back behind your ear. Your hair had tangled slightly in the breeze, and his fingers brushed against the soft strands as if trying to keep you grounded in this moment.

You smiled up at him, your eyes warm with affection, and for a brief second, JJ wondered if he had been imagining all of this — the way your touch made him feel alive, how your laugh filled him with a joy that felt as though he was living in a dream. He had never been one to express his feelings out loud, never been able to put his heart on the line like that. But with you, everything felt different. Everything felt right.

"I love you, too," you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips, but JJ felt the weight of them — felt how real they were, how they shifted the space between you, making it smaller, warmer, more intimate. It was like the universe had shifted in that moment, like the stars aligned just for the two of you.

But you, ever the one to keep things light, laughed softly, breaking the moment in the most perfect way. Your laugh rang out like music, a melody he couldn’t get enough of. "But everyone knows that, stupid! It’s no secret that you’re head over heels in love with me," you teased, brushing his hair out of his eyes, as if trying to bring him back down from whatever cosmic place his mind had drifted to.

JJ chuckled, the sound deep and sincere. There was no pretense, no walls. Just the two of you, surrounded by the night and the ocean, and for the first time, he felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be. His smile was soft but real, and he kissed you once, gently, on the tip of your nose, then moved to the corner of your lips, then your cheek, your forehead, each kiss like a reassurance that this moment, this feeling, was real.

"You don't get it, do you?" JJ murmured, his voice a little more serious than the moment required. He let the silence stretch between you before continuing. "It’s not just... about love, doll. It’s about everything. It’s the way you make me see the world in a way I never thought I would. The way you make me feel like... like I’m enough." His voice softened with a vulnerability he hadn’t known he could express. "Before you, everything was just a blur. I didn’t even know how to be, to feel. But with you? It’s different. You make me real, love."

You looked at him, your gaze tender, understanding. Your eyes softened, and without a word, you reached out and pulled him in for a tight hug. JJ rested his head against your shoulder, inhaling the soft scent of your skin, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop spinning. It was just the two of you, and for the first time in a long time, JJ felt truly alive.

He had spent so many years running from everything that hurt him, pushing away anything that could cause him pain. But in that moment, wrapped in your embrace, the fear was gone. There was nothing left but the two of you, standing on the edge of the world, with the ocean stretching out before you like an endless promise.

"I never thought I’d say it," he whispered, his words coming out in a quiet rush. "But you’re my Big Bang. The thing that changed everything for me. Before you, it felt like I was drifting through the void, like there was nothing in this world worth holding on to. But now..." He pulled away slightly, looking at you with a newfound intensity. "Now, you’re my everything. You gave me a reason to stay."

Your fingers lightly brushed against his cheek, the touch so gentle it felt like a feather. You looked at him, eyes searching his face, and you smiled softly. "You don't have to be alone anymore, JJ. You’ve never been alone." Your voice was quiet, but the sincerity behind it struck him like a bolt of lightning. "We're in this together."

A small laugh escaped him, a sound that felt almost foreign but so freeing. The way you made him feel — like he was seen, understood, held — it was beyond anything he could have imagined. You were the gravity in his universe, pulling him in, holding him steady. And no matter how far out he drifted, he always knew he'd find his way back to you.

"You make me feel like the world is full of stars," he murmured, his gaze drifting toward the horizon. "Like everything that’s ever happened to me — good or bad — led me to you. Like I was just waiting for you to come and show me what it’s like to be."

You grinned, a playful glint in your eyes. "Well, don't get too carried away, Maybank. I’m not that amazing."

JJ smiled, but there was something raw in his expression, something that hinted at all the things he could never quite put into words. "You are," he said softly. "You are my everything. And for once, I’m not afraid to let myself feel it."

The world stretched out before you, both of you standing at the precipice of something so beautiful, so uncertain, yet so undeniable. The stars above shimmered like tiny promises, like constellations forming their own quiet narrative about two souls finding each other in the vast, infinite expanse of the universe. And in that moment, the ocean, the stars, the wind, and the night itself seemed to pause, holding its breath.

"I love you. So much," JJ whispered again, his voice filled with the certainty that had settled deep within him. It was simple, but it was everything. The words echoed, not just through the air, but through his heart, through his bones, reverberating in a way he never thought was possible. And as the night embraced them both, they realized that they had found their place in the world. Together.

And for the first time, JJ Maybank wasn’t afraid to be seen. Because you saw him. And that was enough

thankx for reading <3

so, that’s it. jj maybank deserved the whole world but only got this shitty ending. am i gonna watch obx4 now? probably not. am i gonna write for jj like there’s no s4? definitely yes! i think we’ll all agree that obx ended on s3 and after that nothing happened.

but every time i see the posts about jj i feel so sad… like it literally hurts on some level because he deserved his happy ending more than anyone. even if rudy wanted to leave the show they could have written a good ending for him. not one more fucked up father, but one that would take him to see the world or shit like this. i just wanted him to be happy.

i chose iris because this is so jj coded for me. i haven’t listened to this song in ages and when it popped up in my shuffle yesterday – i just wanted it to be about jj. with all his struggles, all his pain, but also with a hope for something good. so, i rly hope that you liked this work.

and again thank u for reading. thank u for liking, reblogging and commenting - it’s rly means a lot to me. you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox :3

- your santi 🪐

masterlist

[woso-dreamzzz]

Wiped Out III

Fridolina Rolfö x Teen!Reader

Summary: Your first start of the season

Today was meant to be a good day.

Today was meant to be a great day.

It's your first start of the season.

Your parents are here to see you.

Your mother. Your father. Frido's parents too.

Today was meant to be perfect.

"You'll do great," Frido says, a soft kiss landing on the top of your head.

You don't answer her, suddenly feeling shy as you go and warm up.

"Which ones are your parents?" Ingrid asks as her eyes rove over the stands," They are coming today, right? I think Frido said."

"Over there." You point an errant hand over to the friends and family section.

Ingrid narrows her eyes as she takes in all the people sitting there. "I don't see them."

"There! By the aisle."

Ingrid's brow furrows. "That's Frido's parents."

She would recognise them anywhere. She's been in their house enough times to recognise them from a distance.

"No, they're mine. Papa always wears the blue shirt to my matches. He doesn't like jerseys."

"No. That's Frido's father."

"I think I can recognise my own father, Ingrid," You say with an eye roll.

"No. I'm sure-"

"Our father's are twins," Frido says in passing, handing you for bottle to drink from.

"They are?"

"Identical," You put in, passing Frido back her bottle," And our mums."

"What?"

"Our mums are identical twins too."

Ingrid looks between you and your cousin, mouth opening and closing for a moment before she sighs. "Your fathers, a pair of identical twins...married another pair of identical twins. And had you two?"

Frido doesn't answer.

But you do.

"Yeah? What's so confusing about that?"

"So you're sisters then."

"No," Frido snaps quickly, voice hard before she looks away," I mean, no. We're cousins."

"But I mean, genetically, you're siblings. If you're from two sets of identical twins..."

"We're not," Frido snaps again, shaking her head like the whole idea was stupid," We're cousins. Nothing more. Nothing less."

"Geez, Frido," You laugh, bumping your shoulder against hers," I'm trying not to be offended here. I'd be a great sister."

Frido's eyes soften like they always do when she looks at you and she fondly tugs on the lock of hair that always escapes your ponytail no matter what either of you do.

Ingrid doesn't push anymore on the topic, especially when it's so clear that Frido's got some strange hang up on it.

The match starts like any other and nothing seems out of the ordinary.

It's as intense as any other match is but just like every other match you've played in, Barcelona are solidly in control.

You frown a little as you and Mapi stand over a free kick, an odd twinge in the back of your leg that you rub. Maybe it's not in your leg actually, maybe it's actually in your chest.

A weird feeling that just won't settle.

You push it away though because this is your first free kick as a Barcelona player despite having been here a season now.

It was a new thing Pere was trying.

He'd been going over old film and came across an old set of videos of when you played for one of the Sweden youth teams. You'd been the dedicated free kick taker ever since you arrived, scoring goal after goal after goal no matter where you were on the pitch.

"Take it," Mapi says from behind her hand, trying to disguise the choice.

The twinge in your hamstring dampens as you push it from your mind, nodding.

Both you and Mapi take steps back.

She runs across you and then you move.

You know something is wrong the moment your foot touches grass.

The ball speeds from your strike, neatly landing in the top corner and passed the keeper's outstretched hand.

The team celebrate but you're on the ground.

Something between a squeak and a yelp make its way out of your mouth as your hamstring flares in pain.

The Johan erupts in noise at your first goal of the season but you can hear nothing over the roar in your ears and the pain in your leg.

Tears sting your eyes as a shadow falls over you.

Your cousin is there like she is every time you're injured like some kind of avenging angel.

But you don't want her right now.

You're in pain. You feel vulnerable. You feel like a little girl needing her boo boo kissed after scraping her skin at the park.

"Mama," You sob," I want Mama."

"It's okay," Frido tries to soothe you, something like confliction in her eyes," Come on. It's okay."

You grasp at her hand, squeezing tightly. "Frido, I want my Mama."

"Shh, shh, it's alright. It's going to be okay."

The medics rush on quickly as well and you try to kick them away with your one good leg.

"Stop...Stop!" You shriek when they touche your injury.

"We need to get her off," One of them says and Frido nods.

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here!" You may be injured, in tears and vulnerable but you'd like to keep some essence of your already shattered dignity.

"Can you stand?" Frido asks, tenderly brushing your cheek with her hand.

"I..." You want to say yes but you know the correct answer. You shake your head.

"We're going to need a stretcher," One of the medics speaks into their radio and within a minute or so, you're being helped into it.

You catch Frido's hand as she walks with you to the touchline.

"You'll tell them to get Mama?"

Frido blinks away some of her own tears. "I'll...I'll tell them to send auntie."

It takes barely an hour for the diagnosis to come back.

A torn hamstring.

A torn hamstring that needs surgery.

Which means months out of football, months of recovery and rehab.

You wonder briefly if you'll get to go to the Euros this summer.

Sweden still haven't qualified yet. You won't be apart of the squad for that campaign but if they do qualify, you wonder if you'll be back and strong enough to join the Euros team.

Mama holds your hand though.

Papa and Uncle and Auntie are still in the stands watching Frido but Mama is with you, holding your hand as you suck on a green whistle to take the edge off.

She presses a soft kiss to the top of your head as her hands gently card through your hair.

You stopped crying a while ago as you nestle into her, head on her chest like you used to do to her and Frido when you were little.

The sounds of studs on flooring alerts you to your cousin coming and you sit up just as the door swings open.

"Hey," She says, panting.

"Hey," You reply.

She squishes onto the other side of your bed. It's a tight fit but Frido makes it work, taking your other hand. "So...What are we looking at?"

"Torn hamstring," Your Mama replies," She's going to need surgery."

"I hate it when you two talk over me."

"How long are we thinking she'll be out?"

"Six months."

"No!" You huff, drawing the attention of your Mama and Frido. "He said six months are the latest. Three months minimum. I'll be ready in three months."

Frido and your Mama exchange twin looks.

"I'll be ready then! I will!"

Mama continues to stroke through your hair and Frido squeezes your head.

"Recovery takes time," You cousin says," You shouldn't rush things."

"I'm not going to rush things. I'm not an idiot, Frido. But I will be ready in three months and I'll be healthy for the rest of the season. And then we'll compete in the Euros. Like we said we would."

Your Mama sighs. "You're both just as stubborn as each other. You get it from Frido you know."

Frido tenses a barely imperceptible amount next to you.

"How did I get it from Frido?" You laugh," Via telepathy?"

"Yeah," Frido laughs too but it doesn't meet her eyes," Something like that."

[beiasluv]

yes, and? | f1 d!lfs

a/n: Ariana popped tf off with that house music, but ngl I have mixed feelings abt her allegations. don’t be a homewrecker bitches 😘

aussiegrit

liked by oscarpiastri, fernandoalo_official and 96,279 others

aussiegrit Ride a Porsche, save a horse…😆 yourinsta

view all 3,627 comments

fernandoalo_official nice caption 🙌🤣

aussiegrit got a smart gal 😊😂

username thatshouldbemeholdjngyourhanddd

username mark and yn are weird. prove me wrong.

username don’t be a hater if she’s having fun

username having sex with someone’s husband is fun?

username ain’t no one saying that yet

username if I see a dilf using the laughing emoji unironically again I will combust

username then I’ve got good news for you..

username ICONIC QUEEN SHITT

username Honestly get that bag gurlll

username Yn is a grown woman, should’ve known not to mingle with an older man

username is it so depressing to see a successful young woman having a fun time?

yourinsta

liked by sebastianvettel, jensonbutton and 218,718 others

yourinsta ride or die (literally) 😙

view all 35,256 comments

jensonbutton careful love

yourinsta will do 🤭

username hang out with people your age

username stay mad, go touch some grass

landonorris we literally drive fast car for life 💀

yourinsta I KNOW 😭😭

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landonorris soonn

username ERM Where.

sebastianvettel glad you had fun schatz

yourinsta anytimee 🫶

username sebastian went skiing and no fucking picture. I’m devastated.

username what exactly are you riding 🤭

username she slayed for that

username DONT TAKE TREACHEROUS ROADS

username DONT MAKE UNNECESSARILY JOURNIES

jensonbutton

liked by yourinsta, aussiegrit, and 122,017 others

jensonbutton off seasonal things 🤣.

view all 28,167 comments

yourinsta slow your horses on drinking mr button

jensonbutton will do love 😉

yourinsta I’ll keep an eye on that.

username taking care of her old man You go girlll

username was this the Santa hat he got from Fernando 😭😭

username it’s also likely that one of them gifted the whiskey as well

username nobody can stop yn and her dilfs on this summer break

username HELL YEAH

username not complaining for the lack of content from the current grid (except Ms gurl herself)

yourinsta

liked by oscarpiastri, mickschumacher and 186,297 others

yourinsta I have no more storage 😔

view all 21,627 comments

sebastianvettel sorry schatz ❤️

yourinsta I maybee forgive you

username grow tf upp

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landonorris why is your phone crustyy

yourinsta I SWEAR IT’S THEMM

yourinsta my selfies ate 🤭

username PERIODDD

username get yourself sweaty old dilfss

jensonbutton deleting is not an option love

aussiegrit buying a new one is

username OH???

username be my sugar daddy please 😩🙏

username Oscar and mick basically cringing at their father figure

username Respect the original rizz gurll

username Sebastian was and still is the original rizz, ask yn 😘

username kimi what are you doing hereeee

f1gossips

liked by username, username and 39,728 others

f1gossips Ricciardo, Vettel, Button, Alonso, and Ln spotted in a holiday in Ibiza, Spain. More attendants to be confirmed.

- admin

view all 2,610 comments

username honestly it’s kinda weird that she keeps on hanging out with the older grid while she is literally a Mercedes driver?

username and what’s wrong with hanging out with people outside the current grid

username idk seems kinda weird to me, older men..

username if she’s getting that bag I respect her cause why tf not?

username homewrecker much?

username desperate much?

username homewrekcerr so coquette 🎀

username you guys don’t get it (I GET HERR)

username Spain… so is Carlos joining??

username and Lando’s comment??

username I swear they need to show tf up

yourinsta

liked by aussiegrit, sebastianvettel and 186,727 others

yourinsta told you my selfies ate 😘

view all 18,017 comments

aussiegrit beautiful sunshine ❤️

yourinsta wish you were heree

aussiegrit I’ll definitely see you soon honey

username never let mark know what a dm is so I can keep reading their texts

username if you look closely into the background you can see me drowning in my tears

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carlossainz55 did you pierced your tongue?

yourinsta no?? why would I do that

username why are they so siblings 😭

sebastianvettel

liked by yourinsta, lance_stroll and 385,167 others

sebastianvettel trip dump or whatever the kids say?

view all 27,526 comments

yourinsta correcto

liked by sebastianvettel

username get away from my mann 😘😘

username ngl you got me in the first half

username can the summer break be longer 😭😩

username I miss the dilf trip already. I have nothing to look forward to anymore

username how to…be…a dog ���️

f1gossips

liked by username, username and 27,156 others

f1gossips Mark Webber and David Coulhart spotted at the Porsche convention, Melbourne, Australia. Lando Norris confirmed in joining the Ibiza trip last week as seen with a fan at a restaurant

view all 962 comments

username i know exactly what you are doing by putting mark in this

username so was it Mark??? 🤭🤭

username Mark please comeback 😭

username come back the kids miss you 😩

username so was it true that she fucked one of them?

username WHAT? WHO WHERE WHEN

username it was rumor but idk guessed it would’ve spiraled at the trip

username had a feeling that it was Sebastian 🤷‍♀️

username SAMEE TWINSS

yourinsta

liked by jensonbutton, aussiegrit and 426,268 others

yourinsta yes, and?

view all 197,727 comments

username OMF MISS QUEENNN

username QUEEN SHIT BITCH

username ITS CONFIRMEDD

username so can I call her ariana now? 💀💀

yall know the drill, interact if you liked it😘😘 let me know who’s your favorite f1 dilf

today’s a great day to take care of yourself!!

[sometimescharlolette]

JOEL MILLER X F!READER (SARAH’S FRIEND) - PART TWO

PART ONE

Synopsis: Lunch with your best friend's dad takes an unexpected turn, for better or worse.

Word count: 3.7k of pure pornography, and 10% plot

Warnings: +18, sexual content, age gap (reader is in her twenties, Joel in his late forties), dirty talk, cursing, sex (p in v), rough sex, possessive behavior.

A/N: Hello beautiful people, I think this time I got carried away, and ended up writing more sex than the plot itself, but, okay, let's let Joel enjoy these moments of paradise, because soon the chaos will begin... Anyway, I hope you like it, feel free to comment what you think, feedback helps me improve and I'm counting on you for that, bye, kisses💜💜

Sarah frowned, confused by what she assumed was a meaningless outburst. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity. Not that she wasn’t used to your sharp tongue, but she had expected you to at least try to tone it down in front of her father.

“Uhm, yeah, sorry,” you stammered, forcing a laugh. “I kicked the leg of the table by accident. You know how it is—hurts like hell when your little toe hits furniture.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. You knew that look. It was the one she gave you whenever she sensed you were up to something. Or worse, when she suspected you were letting last night’s alcohol-fueled decisions cloud your judgment. And unfortunately, she wasn’t wrong. Your mind was very clouded, and her father was the reason why.

“Nice to meet you…” Joel’s deep, steady voice broke through your spiraling thoughts. He let the sentence hang in the air, acting like he was meeting you for the first time—like he hadn’t had his hands all over you just hours ago.

You met his gaze sharply, irritation flaring in your chest at his infuriatingly calm demeanor. He was completely unaffected, carrying on as if this was just another casual introduction, not the aftermath of a night that left your legs shaking.

“Y/N, Mr. Miller,” you bit out, your eyes narrowing as you took a slow sip of your coffee, hoping the bitterness would chase away the heat creeping up your neck.

Joel’s lips quirked into something that wasn’t quite a smirk but was smug enough to make your blood simmer. “Pretty name.”

Damn it. The way he said it, the way his voice dipped just slightly, sent an unwelcome warmth through you. You hated how effortlessly he could make you feel like some love-struck teenager. And worse, you hated that he knew it.

Meanwhile, he carried on, effortlessly slipping into conversation with his daughter—asking about her classes, if she was eating properly, if anything in the dorm needed fixing. The perfect father routine. You could barely concentrate, too busy trying to regulate your breathing, while he sat there looking as composed as ever.

“Oh, speaking of which,” Sarah said suddenly, flipping through the menu. “Dad, the foot of Y/N’s bed broke or something. Could you take a look at it?”

You choked on your coffee.

Joel exhaled through his nose, a slow, measured breath. His lips twitched like he was holding back a comment—one that would probably have made you throw your drink in his face. Instead, he just nodded, his voice low and infuriatingly smooth.

“Sure. Always keep a toolbox in the truck for emergencies.”

You shot him a glare, and for the first time since sitting down, he looked directly at you. There was something in his gaze—something knowing, something teasing.

Sarah, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing between you and her father, suggested placing the orders before the restaurant got too busy. She rattled off what each of you would have before walking away to place them, her father’s card in hand.

As soon as she was out of earshot, you leaned forward, lowering your voice. “What the hell, Joel?” you hissed, eyes flashing with irritation. “Why didn’t you tell me you were Sarah’s father?”

Joel barely blinked, completely unbothered by your frustration. “Not my fault, sweetie. You didn’t ask.”

You clenched your jaw, gripping the coffee cup a little too tightly. His calm, easygoing tone made you want to strangle him. How could he be so damn composed when you were internally combusting?

“Oh, right, because obviously, I should have interrogated you before letting you take me home,” you shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Excuse me for not assuming you were my best friend’s father.”

Joel chuckled, the deep, rich sound sending a traitorous shiver down your spine. “Well, you didn’t exactly insist on knowing my last name, either.”

Your mouth fell open. “You didn’t ask for mine at all!”

Joel shrugged, looking far too entertained for your liking. “Didn’t expect we’d see each other again.”

The words stung more than they should have, and judging by the flicker of something unreadable in Joel’s eyes, he hadn’t meant for them to come out so bluntly.

Truth was, neither of you had expected this. You had chosen him at that bar because he wasn’t a student, because you thought it would be easier. No awkward run-ins on campus. No tangled emotions. Just a night of fun before moving on like it never happened.

But now, faced with reality, you couldn’t pretend the ground hadn’t shifted beneath your feet.

You exhaled, running a hand through your hair. “I didn’t expect to see you again either,” you muttered, shaking your head. “I thought you were just someone passing through, not her dad.”

Joel tilted his head slightly, eyes dark with amusement. “Disappointed?”

You wanted to say yes. You wanted to tell him this was a disaster, that you regretted everything. But the words wouldn’t come, not when the memory of his hands on your body was still so fresh, not when the scent of his cologne still lingered faintly in the air between you.

Instead, you scoffed, rolling your eyes behind your sunglasses. “You wish.”

Joel chuckled again, but before he could respond, Sarah returned with the trays of food, placing them on the table.

“That was faster than I expected,” she said cheerfully.

Joel, slipping effortlessly back into father mode, reached for the dishes. “You should’ve called me, Sarah. I would’ve helped.”

She just shrugged, waving him off as she took her seat. Meanwhile, you focused on your lasagna like it was the most interesting thing you’d ever seen. Anything to avoid Joel’s knowing gaze.

You spent the rest of the meal in quiet torment, nodding along to conversations and making half-hearted comments while your mind raced. Your body, traitorous as it was, still buzzed with the tension between you and Joel. The way he looked at you, the way his voice lingered on certain words, the smug curve of his lips—everything about him was infuriating.

And yet, deep down, you knew that if given the chance, you’d make the same mistake all over again.

***

“You really didn��t have to come,” you muttered as you opened the door to the dorm you shared with Sarah, stepping aside to let Joel in. The toolbox in his hand looked almost comically out of place in the small, cluttered room.

Joel’s whiskey-colored eyes swept over the space, taking in the contrast between the two halves. Sarah’s side was neat and predictable—her bed perfectly made, her laptop resting beside a neat stack of textbooks and papers. The bedside table held only an alarm clock and a charger, everything in its place.

Then there was your side—pure chaos. Your bed was an unmade tangle of blankets and pillows, last night’s clothes haphazardly tossed into the mix. Your bedside table was a disaster zone, littered with half-empty disposable coffee cups, a tangle of cords, and your laptop teetering dangerously on the edge.

Joel let out a low chuckle.

“Uhm, I wasn’t expecting visitors,” you defended, hastily gathering up the mess and tossing it onto a chair.

“Clearly,” he deadpanned, setting the toolbox down with a thud.

You shot him a glare, irritated at how amused he looked. He smirked, that signature Joel Miller smirk that made you want to simultaneously strangle him and kiss him senseless.

“Relax, little girl. I’m a mess too.”

Your breath hitched. That damn nickname. You shifted uncomfortably, pretending it didn’t ignite something in the pit of your stomach.

Desperate to change the subject, you gestured toward the bed. “Do you think you can fix it?”

“First, gotta see what’s wrong.” Joel rolled up his sleeves, revealing strong forearms as he lifted the mattress and propped it against the door. He crouched beside the bed frame, examining the splintered wood. “You’re a wild one, huh?” he murmured, his voice dripping with suggestion.

Your face burned. “That’s not how it broke,” you snapped quickly, then immediately regretted your defensiveness. Like hell it’s any of his business if it was.

Joel grinned, clearly entertained by your reaction. “Sure,” he drawled, grabbing a hammer and prying out the broken nails. “Might wanna step back, sweet thing. Hate to elbow that pretty face of yours.”

Your breath caught in your throat. When did the room get so damn hot? You realized, belatedly, how close you’d been standing—nearly pressed up against him, watching him work. Embarrassed, you took a step back and sat down on Sarah’s bed, grabbing your phone to distract yourself.

You tried not to watch him, but there was something hypnotic about the way he moved—how his strong hands handled the tools, how his biceps flexed beneath his flannel. Your stomach tightened, heat creeping up your neck. You shook your head, forcing yourself to focus. You already made that mistake once. You were not going to do it again.

Especially not in the room you shared with his daughter.

“There,” Joel announced smugly, pushing the mattress back into place. “Good as new. Go on, test it out.”

You rolled your eyes. “Idiot.”

He smirked. “No, seriously. See if it’s comfortable. I don’t half-ass my work.”

You stared at him for a moment, trying to gauge if he was being serious or just fucking with you. With a sigh, you walked over and sat on the bed. Joel’s gaze flickered downward, shamelessly watching the sway of your hips before quickly looking away when you caught him.

You ignored the way your pulse quickened. Instead, you shifted on the mattress, nodding. “Yeah, it’s good. Thanks. How much do I owe you?”

Joel scoffed. “As if I’d charge you for hammerin’ a few nails. Besides, you’re Sarah’s friend, so that means you’re in the privileged group that gets my services for free.”

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. Damn him. You hated how effortlessly he made you like him.

“Can I at least offer you a drink?”

Now that made him smile. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

You pulled two beers from the mini-fridge, handing him one before sitting on the edge of your now-fixed bed. The air between you felt different, heavier. The brush of his thigh against yours was subtle, yet searing.

A beat passed before you sighed, bringing the bottle to your lips. “You know… if all of this wasn’t so fucked up, I think I’d actually enjoy spending time with you.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking. “You sayin’ you don’t?”

You glanced at him, your gaze steady. “I’m saying it shouldn’t be like this.”

He hummed, taking a slow sip of his beer. “I’m still a lot older than you,” he reminded you.

“Age is just a number,” you murmured.

“And jail is just a place,” he shot back, making you roll your eyes.

“I’m twenty, Joel,” you deadpanned. “I’m a fucking adult.”

Joel exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “That don’t make it any better, little girl.”

“What kind of bullshit moral high ground is this?” you snapped. “Did you forget that you fucked my brains out yesterday?”

Joel ran a hand down his face, sighing. “I’m tryin’ not to let that happen again, little girl. But you’re makin’ it real damn hard.”

Your breath hitched.

His words hung in the air, thick with unspoken want. Your eyes locked onto his, and something shifted. Neither of you moved at first, but it was inevitable—the slow, magnetic pull drawing you together.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, your lips crashed onto his.

Joel groaned against your mouth, his large hands gripping your waist, pulling you onto his lap. The kiss was desperate, fueled by the tension that had been simmering between you all damn day. His fingers dug into your hips, guiding you closer, until you could feel the heat of him through his jeans. Your hands tangled in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp, making him growl into your mouth.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours, devouring you like he was starving for you. You gasped as he tilted his head, biting down on your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue.

“Jesus Christ,” he murmured against your mouth, voice rough and thick with need. “You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me.”

His words sent a jolt of heat straight to your core. Your fingers fisted in his flannel, tugging him impossibly closer. You didn’t answer, you didn’t want to think, you didn’t want to admit that you were giving yourself to him again, but fuck, how could you resist when your whole body was buzzing with need for his? 

When all you wanted was to drown in the feel of his body against yours, the way his calloused hands caressed your soft skin like they knew every little nook and cranny. You rocked your hips against his groin, Joel’s rough jeans rubbing against your cotton panties, your dress bunching at your waist, the feeling was deliciously wrong. But if you were honest, you were begging to fail again if he fell too.

Joel's hands slid down to grip your ass, squeezing the firm globes as he ground his denim-clad erection against your aching core. He swallowed your moan with another burning kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth to claim you thoroughly. You could taste the beer on his breath, feel the scratch of his beard against your sensitive skin. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and you found yourself getting lost in the sensation of being wanted, being desired, being consumed by him.

"Fuck, little girl," he growled, breaking the kiss to trail his lips down the column of your throat. "You taste even sweeter than I remembered." His teeth grazed your pulse point before he sucked hard, no doubt leaving a mark. You both knew it was stupid, it was a way of digging your own graves, but your minds were too consumed with lust to reason about the risk.

Your head fell back, giving him more access to the column of your throat as your fingers tangled in his brown hair. You could feel the weight of his cock throbbing against you, separated only by the barrier of his jeans and your soaked panties. The friction was maddening, delicious, and you found yourself rocking against him wantonly, chasing more of that pleasure.

"Joel," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. "We shouldn't... not here..." Even as you said it, you knew it was a lie. You wanted him, wanted this, wanted to feel alive and unburdened and whole in his arms. You wanted him to fuck you until you forgot your own name, until you forgot that it was your best friend's father who was fucking you.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating against your own. "Shouldn't we?" he countered, nipping at your earlobe before soothing the sting with his tongue. "Baby girl, I've wanted to bend you over this table and fuck you senseless since the moment we walked through that door. Gonna ruin this tight little cunt until you're beggin' for my cock, beggin’ to my cock split you open”

His words made you clenched around nothing, your core aching and empty and hollow. You needed him, needed to feel him inside you, filling you, completing you. You were already addicted to the way he touched you, the way he fucked you, the way he made you come undone. And god help you, but you wanted to do it all over again. You wanted to drown in him, in the pleasure and the pain and the all-consuming hunger that only he seemed to ignite in you.

"Please," you whimpered, not even sure what you were begging for anymore. "Please fuck me, please make me yours"

Joel seemed to understand, seemed to sense the desperation radiating off of you in waves. He hoisted you up onto your bed, the soft mattress pressed against the backs of your thighs as he stepped between them, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.

"Wrap your legs around me, baby," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "Gonna fuck this sweet cunt so hard, you'll forget your own goddamn name. Gonna make you scream so loud, the whole fuckin' college will know who this pussy belongs to."

You knew that if anyone found out, it would ruin you both, but you were so lost in the moment, that you did as you were told, wrapping your legs around his waist as he leaned down to capture your mouth in another bruising kiss. His tongue delved deep, tangling with yours as he ground his cloth-covered cock against your dripping entrance. You could feel the heat of him, the thick length of him, and you knew you were already ruined for anyone else. Only Joel could make you feel this way, could set your body on fire with a single touch.

"Fuck, I need you," you gasped against his mouth, your nails raking down his back as you tried to pull him closer. "Please, Joel... please fuck me. I can't... we don't have time to waste"

He groaned, the sound muffled against your lips as he fumbled with the button of his jeans. He shoved them down just enough to free his thick, hard cock, the swollen head already luscious with the pearly drops of pre-cum. You licked your lips at the sight, imagining what the taste of him would be like on your tongue, the weight of him in your mouth.

"Greedy girl," he taunted, rubbing the tip of his cock against your clothed slit. "So fuckin' wet for me already. Tell me how bad you want it, little girl"

You were already panting, already desperate, already hoping for him. You knew this was wrong, knew you shouldn't be doing this, that if Sarah found out she might hate you forever, and yet, you couldn't stop yourself. You needed him too much.

"Please, Joel," you whimpered, looking up at him with eyes clouded with appetite. "Please fuck me. I want your cock so fucking bad. Please, just... please fuck me. I'm begging you."

He seemed to like that, seemed to like the way you begged so sweetly for his cock. He rewarded you by shoving your panties to the side and notching the thick head of his cock against your soaking entrance. Then with one hard thrust, he buried himself inside you, splitting you open on his cock.

"Fuck!" you cried out, your head threw back as he stretched you wide around him. "Oh god, Joel... so fucking good..."

"Take it, baby," he growled, starting to move. "Take my fuckin' cock. This is what you wanted, isn't it? To be fucked so hard you won't be able to walk straight?"

You could only moan in response, your pussy clenching and fluttering around him as he started to move faster, harder, his hips slapping against yours with each brutal thrust. The bed creaked beneath you, the wood groaning in protest as he fucked into you with wild abandon.

"Yes," you hissed, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you held on for dear life. "Yes, fuck... just like that. Please, Joel. Fuck me harder!"

He obliged, gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks of his fingers on your skin as he slammed into you with enough force to make the bed shake. You could feel every thick inch of him, stretching you wide and filling you up until you swore you could feel him in your womb.

"Gonna... fuck... I'm so close, Joel," you panted, your body already starting to tighten. "Gonna... fuck... come on your fucking cock..."

"Then fuckin' do it," he snarled, his voice strained with his own impending release. "Come on my cock like the desperate little girl, you are. Wanna feel this pretty pussy squeeze the fuckin' cum outta me."

His words, his filthy, vulgar words, sent you over the edge. You came with a scream, your cunt clamping down around him like a warm embrace as your orgasm crashed through you. Your vision went white, your body convulsing as pleasure exploded behind your eyelids.

Joel followed soon after, with a guttural groan that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul. He slammed into you one last time before stilling, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he emptied himself inside you. You could feel the heat of his release flooding your insides, painting your walls with his seeds.

He collapsed against you then, his sweat-slicked skin pressing against yours as he tried to catch his breath. You knew you should feel guilty, knew this was wrong, that you should feel ashamed of the things your best friend's father made you feel, but all you could feel was the aftershocks of your release, the way your body still fluttered and clenched around his softening cock.

"Fuck, baby," he murmured, his voice rough and low. "That was... fuck, that was incredible."

You could only nod, too tired and sated to form words. You knew this was a mistake, knew you should never have let this happen, but God help you, you wanted it to happen again. And again. And again.

Joel seemed to sense your thoughts, sense the way your body was already craving more of his touch, more of his cock. He lifted his head to look at you, his dark eyes filled with a hunger that made your stomach flip.

"Don't you worry, little girl," he said, his voice a low rumble. "We're gonna do this again. Gonna fuck until we can't fuck anymore. Gonna make you forget everythin' but the feel of my cock inside this sweet little pussy."

You knew you should protest, push him away and run as far as you could. But you couldn't. You were already addicted, already ruined for anyone else. And god help you, but you wanted to let him ruin you over and over again.

So you simply nodded, a small smile playing on your lips as you looked up at him. "Okay," you whispered. "Okay, Joel. I'm yours for now."

At least until his daughter found out, but you didn't want to think about Sarah right now, not with his cock still buried deep inside you. That was a problem for your future self, you just need to rest.

[chimivx]

home;run -> fem!reader x mlb!mingyu, mlb!vernon, mlb!dk

College didn't work out, so you're stuck with the next best thing. Living with your superstar brother, traveling with his championship winning team, haunted by your past and heavily influenced by your present.

wc; {part two} 5.6k warnings; 18+, sexual content, alcohol consumption/abuse, bad influences around her, manipulation, her name gets taken advantage of in public media, if i missed anything please let me know!! notes; hi, i am posting & feeling shy. please enjoy. <3 dusting off my fingers for this one, i am still not feeling 100%, thank you everyone for your kind words & messages. peese n lurv. <3

Weeks ago your brother decided this Mingyu thing was good, but only in theory. Parading around with him, hanging out with him, going to bars with him, hooking up with him… All of it actually happening, not good.

DK would prefer you to have these rendezvous with someone who didn’t try to drink his body weight in liquor each time the first can hit his hand, but alas, you were brought home safe every time, so who was he to complain or pick and choose who you can and can’t hang out with.

After their first few seasons together it was clear the two had different outlooks on life, neither of them really in the wrong with how they chose to go about their time, but they didn’t match. They clashed. Your brother, after spending time educating himself on his fathers history and evidently learning that baseball wasn’t the only thing he played, he took a different approach to dating, to women. He was a proper gentleman, DK was, never using his status to acquire a girlfriend with status or money or a title, he searched for love.

A star studded, best pitcher in baseball shouldn’t have had his heart broken as many times as his had been, he should’ve been the one breaking hearts. The girls wanted his money, and they only liked him because he played baseball. His status, his money, his title. All the things he didn’t necessarily want, but had been blessed with. 

He was a good man, and he was always right, but you’d never admit that to his face. Especially after that night, after a weekend of staying at Mingyu’s. DK had sat you down, he spoke for many minutes, many dragging minutes, a monologue full of ‘Wouldn’t you prefer to do something else?’ and ‘Have your friends from Nasara come out to stay with us sometime, maybe you all can spend time in the city together.’ He never said the words, “Don’t date Mingyu,” but you know he despised the idea.

Deep down you despised it too. 

The hunk of golden muscle with a voice so pretty and persuading, he wanted to be your boyfriend. Mingyu’s asked a few times before, letting it become your decision, always telling you he’d wait for you, and that you were his no matter what, that he was here for you, he wanted to take care of you, he wanted to love you. He’d keep his word, you knew he would. It was Mingyu, he kept his promises, he spoke with utmost intent, he didn’t say shit just to say it, nor was he using it to coerce you into his sheets. That you did on your own.

His curly hair, his sappy brown eyes, you’d drown it in, in him, suffocate yourself with Mingyu, all of him until the guilt wallowing in your gut was gone. With each passing day it grew smaller. After each night with Mingyu it was easier to deal with. Like last night, like this entire trip would be.

Arriving in Haos, in the warm air that breezed over your skin like a dream when you stepped out of the airport hand in hand with Mingyu sending cameras flashing away, you finally felt like you could breathe. Away from Iloa, away from the restraints the city put on you, really your brother, this trip felt like freedom. Haos has always been a place you’ve thrived since you were a little girl, traveling back and forth on a jet with your parents and DK, vacationing for months throughout the summer, laying on these beaches until your skin couldn’t take it any longer. The air was different here, it excited you.

It invited you to dance in it, to get lost in it like you did Mingyu.

And that’s just what you did.

Waking up to sunshine peeking through the heavy grey curtains of the hotel room, washing over you where you laid in the king sized bed buried in white sheets and blankets, you didn’t even want to open your eyes. Pressing your hands to your forehead first, rolling onto your back, the ache squeezing your brain threatened your stomach, but you wouldn’t allow it to go any further. Taking a slow, calculated deep breath you lay your arms beside you and stretch, your limbs barely reaching the edges of the mattress. Muscles sore, body tired, you blinked open your eyes and scolded the light with a groan.

Moving beneath the covers, the soft sheets caressing your bare skin, you tugged them off and took your time sitting up. The weight in your head shifted, almost sending you forward. Clamping your hands to your knees, still blinking fervently in the bright sunshine, you find clothes scattered about the floor, your bell bottom jeans inside out and slung over a dresser across the room from you.

You weren’t sure whose room you were in, but the denim jacket, Nike luggage, and custom sneakers let you know where you were. Dragging a hand through your hair, the blow dry still bouncing even though your jaw ached, you took another breath and made your way out of his bed.

These headlines were gonna be good.

You scrolled, and scrolled. Instagram, Twitter, all the accounts that reported on you, that reported on Mingyu, you scrolled, and you read. Wandering out of bed, you scrolled, sitting on the toilet, you scrolled, brushing your teeth, you scrolled. The photos were cute, Mingyu’s arm either around your back or shoulders, unless his hand was wrapped around your neck or squeezing your ass. More often than not your lips were locked, the two of you ‘unable to get enough’ as one drama influencer said on her story.

You’ve been here one night and have already achieved what you came here to do.

There was a certain rush accompanied by seeing your name in posts, in headlines, coming out of peoples mouths. Everyone had their thing, everyone in your life, they had their thing. This was yours, and people were catching on. After each blow up of news, of rumors, of new photos, your follower count grew.

But where there were fun people talking about you, doing their makeup in their ‘Get Ready With Me and Chit Chat About Moon Isla…’ videos and TikToks, there were the assholes, mostly men, who spewed their worthless thoughts. That’s what DK would say. Mingyu had started saying it too, that those kinds of people had nothing better to do with their lives.

It didn’t mean their words didn’t hurt.

“I mean, she’s sloppy, she’s drinking all the time, and he’s there to carry her around,” a man with a microphone in his face and big headphones on around his head spoke from your phone. Dressed now, having read an article that informed you that you bought the entire bar shots of tequila, you attempted to liven up your face in the mirror that stretched across the bathroom wall. “His team is in Haos to train. To practice. To begin their season to take back their trophy, and this bitch is with them, dragging Kim all along Festa Street.” Slicking clear gloss over your lips, you narrowed your eyes and glared at the man on the screen.

Fair skinned, bald, with a bush on his face and all around his jaw. He had that nagging sort of voice, one that tugged on your eardrums and stabbed them thousands and thousands of times with tiny needles filling you with rage.

“Photos came out right away when the team got there, you know,” the man said, and his partner, another bald man with a Lions hat on, hummed in agreement. “Not a smile on his face. Sunglasses on, gear on his back, his hat tugged over his forehead. Now what do you think that means?”

“He’s hungover,” the partner said. The man threw his hands out to the side and cackled.

“Thank you, he’s hungover, and he has to play today.” You scoffed and snatched your phone off the counter. “They’re lucky the new first-”

“Shut up,” you groaned, swiping away to another video. A girl with long, waist length braids in her hair, each one entwined with a fun color was smiling to the camera.

“Guys,” she finally whispered after a second of staring. A giggle corrupted her, sending her face down into her pillows. The camera shook, then she picked her head back up and widened her eyes for a few seconds. “How do I become her?” She slapped a hand over her mouth, then giggled maniacally again. “How do I- Wait, hang on.” 

The camera cut and a picture showed up behind her. Your cheeks warmed. Mingyu had you pressed to a pillar in one of the bars you were in, the name unknown to you. His hands were in the back pockets of your jeans and his forehead was pressed to yours. The way he smiled down at you, god. The picture was a little blurry, a little grainy, but damn. He wasn’t looking at you like you were his dinner. Hearts engulfed his irises.

“Guys?!” The girl shrieked and you jumped, forgetting she was here. “Kim Mingyu, save me! Look at this, do you see this, are we all okay after this…” She rambled more nonsense, and you’re certain the thousands of comments were agreeing with her. On every video of girls like this the comments were full of more girls saying the same exact thing.

You dared, and you clicked.

‘how does she not die when he looks like that’

‘LORD WHEN IS IT MY TURRRRRRN’

‘Shes so lucky waht the actual fuck guys its not fair.’

‘how are they NOT DATING’

How are they not dating? How are you not dating Mingyu? How could you look at a photo like this one, all of it screaming that he loved you, how could you see this, witness this, live this, and not date him? Not want to date him?

Locking your phone, tossing it to the counter, you returned to your makeup and put on fresh mascara, not that anyone was going to see it.

Venturing out into the room, side stepping articles of clothing, you pulled on one of Mingyu's grey Lions tee’s and wiggled back into the jeans you wore last night. Your luggage was elsewhere. DK would tell you where it ended up, he’d tell you where you were staying. You haven’t seen him since you left the airport, you were not looking forward to the lecture you’d get when you met him at the field.

Sliding thick black sunglasses onto your nose, making sure your hair framed your face, you spritzed some of Mingyu’s cologne onto your neck, dropped your things into your little purse, slid into your shoes, and left his room behind.

The team was gone, they’d been out on the field for two hours already. Nearing eleven o’clock you weren’t sure who else would be left behind here at the hotel, hopefully someone you’d catch a ride with, but to your demise as you wandered the halls and rode the elevator down to the lobby, your least favorite people were here.

The WAGs.

A piercing cry echoed through the air and the glass ceiling of the lobby.

The WAGs and their children.

To the right of the main lobby, the carpeted area where large leather couches and a fireplace lived, fabulous heads of hair sat around or stood with their babies in their arms. Tight jeans, fun Lions themed jackets, the whole thing screamed WAGs and it made you want to gag. 

Then you remembered what shirt you put on and kept your thoughts to yourself.

Already regretting approaching them, you took yourself toward the couches and attempted to smile at them. In an instant their chatter quieted, their attention turned to you, and they broke out in cheesy greetings. There were only a few faces you recognized.

Seungcheols wife, Talia, who was very pregnant, had their son Tao on her hip where she stood in front of the couches. Luscious blonde hair flowing toward her waist, her full face of makeup smiled back at you. She was one of the few you actually trusted. Gesturing toward her knee high wedged boots, you shot her a thumbs up. From what you know she was weeks from popping out kid number two, so how she was walking around in those boots, props to her.

On the couch directly in front of you rocking her crying baby sat Daya, a brunette with macchiato colored skin married to the Lions second basemen, Soonyoung, or Hoshi, as the city of Iloa called him. They haven’t been married long, but their baby girl, Tora, was six months old. Hoshi was one of the reasons the team started to crumble last season. Between Daya and his new daughter, the family fought the narrative the entire off season. 

Daya sat beside Halle, a woman with curly black hair hanging at her shoulders and the smoothest dark chocolate complexion. She bounced a baby in her arms, her and her husband, Minghao, their eight month old, Sunday. Another daughter born into the Lions family, one toward the beginning of the season, the family just missing the reason for crumble rumors.

The two were best friends, Daya and Halle, just as were Hoshi and Minghao. With their chins turned up at you and their seemingly judging eyes studying what you wore and how you wore it, they smiled and shared a look.

“Isla you’re so fun,” Talia said with a shake of her head. 

Daya laughed under her breath. “She’ll be one of us soon,” she grumbled, and Halle laughed with her.

“Leave the girl be,” Jihyo spoke up as she passed by the couches, wandering behind her and Junhui’s four year old son, Jisoo. Jun belonged to the Lions long before DK had ever been traded, he was a veteran in Iloa. He and his wife, a couple of high school sweethearts, welcomed you back time and time again, treating you no differently, as if no time had ever passed. Just seeing her face was relief enough.

“Hey,” you half whispered, reaching out for her. She took your hand and squeezed it, the smile lines on her cheeks accenting her stunning smile. Talia watched your hands meet, then watched the interaction, adjusting her baby on her hip. “It’s so nice to see you.”

Jihyo tossed her dark brown hair over the shoulder of her leather jacket. “It’s so much nicer seeing you. Don’t let these girls be mean to you,” she shot Daye and Halle a glare and the two turned toward one another, “She’s a baby, she’s not having any anytime soon.” Smiling back at you, she squeezed your hand once more before returning to her motherly duties. “You came down just in time, they’re picking us up any minute now.”

“How are things with Mingyu?” Daya asked, giving you another once over. “You guys conjure quite the crowd.” You didn’t like the way her eyes felt.

Shrugging, you pursed your lips and said, “Things are great. Why?”

She and Halle spoke to one another again with their eyes, then Minghao’s wife looked up at you. “Why aren’t things official, Isla?” 

Because if things become official then you end up on the couch here with these women and their babies, maybe even with a few of your own. You become a WAG, your entire identity succumbed down into just being someone's wife, someone's mother. You’d be an extension of him, of Mingyu, it’s what he wanted you to be even if he’s never explicitly said it.

But, he has.

You’re his. You’re his whether the label is there or not.

The label.

More of their questions bounced back and forth between them. ‘Has he not asked?’ ‘You have to do something, Isla, you can’t just be his pet.’ ‘I mean, what does it look like, you traveling with him to do what, party and sleep together?’ ‘We’ve seen the photos, everyone has, you guys have something-’

“It is official,” you said with a sureness that shut them up.

The words were set in stone before you had a chance to take them back. The chatter of the wives and girlfriends in the lobby filled the air and did nothing to ease the anxiety around the next news story you just created for yourself. For Mingyu. For your brother.

Exactly what he didn’t want.

Taking a deep breath, you thought to yourself, oh well.

You’d be a different type of WAG, you’d change what it meant. You would not end up here wedged between Daya and Halle, two women unable to calm their fussy babies.

Halle smirked, shaking her curls a bit. “What do you mean it is?”

Narrowing your eyes that she couldn’t see at her, you tilted your head. “He’s my boyfriend. I’m his girlfriend. How much more official can it get? You want proof? Wanna see the pictures he took of us while he was in me last night?”

Daya threw her head backward with a holler of a laugh. Halle’s own jaw fell open, a scoff falling from it. Talia, eyes analyzing still, she started to smile. 

“No, you keep those to yourself,” Halle said.

Daya chimed in, “If you have any of just Mingyu let us know, though.”

Your heart would’ve shot out your chest if you weren’t so hungover. “I would,” you sighed, then started toward the doors of the hotel, “But, he’s mine!”

First one to get to the cars, recognizing your brother's driver, you beelined for the SUV and demanded he pull away and get you to the stadium before any other women could try to get into the car with you. Barely five minutes away from the hotel and twenty from the stadium, your phone buzzed from your purse, and then it buzzed again, and again. Pulling it out you sighed at the notifications polluting your screen, but weren’t surprised in the slightest.

Someone got their check.

‘BREAKING NEWS: The Lions Princess confirms her relationship with…’

It was too long to read across the screen.

‘Moon Isla and Kim Mingyu CONFIRMED!’

‘IT’S OFFICIAL!’

No matter who it was, no matter who sold the story or leaked it, you didn’t have time to feel bad for them, nor yourself. You were well off and doing better for yourself without the need to leak info to the press for a paycheck. You have a DK, and now you have a boyfriend, who doesn’t know he’s your boyfriend yet, but is about to find out he is your boyfriend and probably already did. 

Now you had to tell him in person.

And you had to swear to yourself that you were not going to become one of the WAGs.

As easy as it would be to just hand your whole life over to somebody, to follow them around, to have them take care of you for as long as they saw fit… It wasn’t you.

And it wasn’t going to be you.

The stadium in Haos couldn’t compare to the one in Iloa. Smaller, less sparkly and flashy, positioned directly in the sun, this stadium was lucky the Lions continued to come here to train for a month and a half. The tickets they sold within February and March were probably enough to fund the rest of the year for this company. 

To the Lions it was home away from home. A field to play on, a place to stay. Players like your brother saw it that way, he and a few others like Junhui, they had an appreciation for it. As long as they were throwing a baseball, running the bases, rolling in the grass, they were happy. You had few memories of this place, one of them being finally kissing Mingyu for the first time when you were eighteen and in Haos with your family for a weekend to watch the Lions play a series here. It was something short and sweet but all the more delicious. 

It was sneaky, in a hallway away from celebrations and cameras. The two of you had spent nearly the entire weekend together, talking, re-getting to know one another like most of the time like this was spent. He only kissed you after a dinner with the team, after a few drinks downed by the both of you, his liquid courage hands dancing along your neck gently before they took your cheeks and pulled you into him.

You started at Nasara that fall, though you longed to go back to that weekend every damn day of that grueling first semester. With little to no contact between you and Mingyu, it was easy to slip away from him, and you did so without even realizing it. There came a point in time where he wasn’t even a second thought, a side thought, a thought way in the back of your brain, he was just… gone.

Coming here, spending time at the stadium with the team you hoped that feeling would come back. That first feeling. The way nerves below your skin buzzed as he touched you, as he smiled at you and tipped his chin closer, whispering to you how he hopes no one turns the corner. His soft lips, his strong hands, his chiseled body you simply melted into… Everything about it screamed perfect.

Strutting over the concrete, a coffee acquired in your hand, sun blazing on your back, coaches, security, and other WAGs standing around eyeing you or trying to say hello, you ignored them and kept your head on straight, knowing he was at the end of this pathway. The stands of seats towered over your head, casting shadows onto the pavement, leading you toward the fence you so easily walked around with no one to stop you. Your feet quieted as the grass began, shade covering the green so lush you almost felt bad you were flattening it beneath your shoes.

The boys weren’t actively playing at the moment, the most activity happening that you could see was that of your brother and the Lions catcher Jihoon, or Woozi, stretching in the outfield together in their sponsored Under Armour get ups. Everyone else was wandering the dirt, chatting it up along the dugout, or checking out their gear. Few players stood in their positions from what you could see, everyone's backs to you as you approached the third base line.

“Isla!” His voice brought an instant smile to your face. He was heard before he was seen, scanning the different figures around you, you finally found him hurrying toward you, a big, goofy smile on his cheeks. Completely different than how those men on that podcast were describing him. 

A little bit sweaty, Mingyu wore a cut off Lions tank and matching black shorts, swapping his custom sneakers for a pair of old cleats that supposedly brought him luck while they trained. It wasn’t Spring Training if he didn’t have them on, no one would catch him jinxing the season before it even started. Some of his curls clung to his forehead, his skin aglow beneath the beating Haos sun.

“Change your mind, or something?” The way he scrunched his nose made you giggle. “Heard we’re dating now?” He made it in front of you finally, resting his hands on his hips as he caught his breath.

Pressing your lips together in a silly smile, you shrugged your shoulders and rocked on your feet. “Maybe we are.” He couldn’t tame his happiness, you were certain his cheeks would break. “Sucks I couldn’t have told you first, who’d you hear it from?”

“Hoshi.” He cocked his head backward toward the dugout. Peeking around his large frame you found the two best friends side by side leaning over the fence with their chins resting on their arms looking straight toward you and Mingyu. Hoshi, hair bleached into oblivion, and Minghao, shaggy black hair hanging down his neck. Both boys wore backwards baseball caps. “After he told me I checked to see if you said anything to me, but you didn’t.”

A pout graced your lips. “I wanted to come here and tell you, I’m sorry.”

He moved quickly, reaching out to take you by your shoulders. “No, please, don’t apologize, holy shit, Isla. If anything I’m sorry, it sucks that we can’t say anything without someone taking it and plastering it to the internet.” His thumbs drew circles over the fabric of his own t-shirt. “This mine?” He snickered.

“Yeah,” you sang, “I was in your room, Gyu. My suitcases are MIA.”

“They’re in your room,” he said as if he knew where it was.

You scoffed. “And you didn’t think to tell me where that was so I could-”

“On the other side of the hotel in one of the towers across the property by your brother.” It was all he had to say to have you both deadpanning in seconds. “Like, a mile apart.”

Laughing within a breath you leaned into him and slid an arm around his back. “Oh, agony,” you drug out, tipping your chin backward. “A mile, how ever are we going to do it?” It was too easy to make him laugh.

“DK did it on purpose,” he said quietly, bobbing his head, taking his arms around your back. “He thinks we don’t know what he does and why he does it but, it’s so obvious.” Sipping your coffee, you looked up at him and waited for more. “Does he know you were gonna do this? Today?”

Toying with the hem of his shirt you took a breath. “No, but I can tell you he definitely already knows, news travels fast around here.” The two of you spare your brother a glance, one he was returning. You’ve never seen DK mad, but you do know when his eyes have fallen upon something he doesn’t like.

“You’ll talk him down,” Mingyu nodded, gazing back down at you. “You always do, you have the magic.” 

Blinking, you turned your chin back up to him. “You could talk to him too, yanno.”

He made a face, baring his teeth, cringing. “Ah, you know how I feel about that.”

“It could potentially turn this whole thing around if you do, Gyu,” you muttered, defeat beginning to pool within you. “You want me, you gotta talk to him about it.”

A smile tugged at his lips as he reached for your coffee cup. “I have you. Watcha got in here?” He took a swing before you could answer him, his reaction making you laugh amongst the karma.

“Black coffee,” you droned, taking the white cup back. “And sugar, because someone made me do tequila shots all night.”

Snickering, he dropped down to press a kiss to your lips, one long and slow, as if he was putting the period on the It’s Official statement. Pulling back just slightly, Mingyu mumbled, “Why don’t you substitute that sugar for vodka so we can keep going tonight?”

“Aye, Kim!” A coach called out for him, the team heading back out onto the field.

Whirling around, pulling you into his side, Mingyu waves off the batting coach and ushers you into the dugout making sure you were along the fence with a good spot to watch him hit. Along the way he whispered nonsense to you, telling you what bars you should explore tonight, where you needed to go, what food you should try, but more importantly what drinks you could get and where.

“You’re gonna kill me, Gyu,” you whispered to him after he kissed you one last time. Laughing aloud, head thrown back with vigor, he took to home plate and his persona shifted. Gone was Gyu, out came Kim Mingyu, the Lions right fielder.

Sipping from your coffee, allowing it to ease the ache in your forehead and the unease in your gut, you stood up and wandered the empty dugout. Names were written on everything, the shirts, the bats, the gloves, the mits, it was adorable, it felt like when you’d watch your brother in little league and your father etched his name into everything he owned. Dragging your feet along the ground, dirt and pebbles scraping against the concrete beneath your shoes, you took a deep breath in through your nose and let the fresh air relax you.

Maybe this was a good thing.

The familiar sound of a baseball smacking into the glove of the catcher brought you more comfort than you ever could’ve imagined. Your brother was on the mound, Woozi behind the plate, Mingyu in the batter's box. The whooshing of the bat through the air as your boyfriend acquired another strike had the batting coach calling out a few things to him. With a small smile on your lips you wandered toward the stairs to the dugout along the first base line, stepping up them to lean against the post giving you the clearest view of the field.

Hangover aside, the day was beautiful. The weather was perfect, the boys were talking and laughing with one another, there was the crack of the ball hitting the bat filling you with excitement as someone shouted in the outfield. The ball Mingyu hit was foul, traveling just over right field, but it wasn’t hit long enough for their bench player whose name you hadn’t learned yet to catch it in right field. Your neck stretched, everyones did. Mingyu ran to first base, but Seungcheol would catch it before he made it down the line.

Except Seungcheol was behind home plate with the batting coach, arms folded over his broad chest, his knee wrapped in a brace.

Whipping your head back and forth, from Seungcheol eyeing the ball, to the team, then you, he shouted a name that made your blood run cold.

“Hansol!”

Every bone in your body went stiff, every muscle froze. Neck nearly breaking, you plastered your eyes onto the boy standing behind first base and your coffee cup almost slipped from your trembling fingers.

You could’ve been sick. You wanted to be sick.

Months. It’d been months.

Months of distraction, months of trying to make him go away, months of squeezing him and pushing him down into a feeling you’d only allow yourself to feel between the hours of one and three in the morning if you were any sort of sober. Even drunk, he was there, a ghost haunting your memory of what could’ve been, what you had and what you left behind. He stood here now, five foot ten, a little scrawny, a little pale. Those brown waves, they were just how you left them, fluffy, soft, inviting. His eyes, chocolate and sweet, were on you, he was looking at you, not through you, not around you, at you.

And it hurt.

Every feeling manifested into a stomach ache, a nausea so debilitating that only he would know what to do about it, like he’s done for you so many times before. The amount of times he’s held your hair, that he’s pulled it back for you. So many nights at Nasara, when he was allowed to, he would get you into your bed and make sure you’d fall asleep on your side, telling Ryujin that if either of you needed anything she could call him. He’d try to not let you drink too much, but when he couldn’t keep up with the way you’d bounce around the house he’d appear with a cup full of water and wouldn’t leave you alone until you finished it. 

He’d bring you to Blend, he’d buy you a coffee, he’d offer you breakfast, and if you refused he’d offer his shoulder and he’d let you talk. And not once would he interrupt, he’d only look away to sip his coffee, reminding you to drink some of yours between the stories you had to tell.

You’d follow him along to his practices, one of the only ones to sit in the stands, or behind home plate when he’d bat or train with his coaches gearing him up for this very moment.

When the hell did he get called up?

When the hell did the Lions get him?

Why the fuck is this the first you’re hearing of it, seeing it?

He missed the ball. It fell a few feet behind him. His teammates shouted for him, they tried to get his attention, so many shouts of a name so foreign to you only because you knew it wasn’t his favorite. He was stuck, much like you, with a thousand things to say splayed out between the two of you.

Vernon.

He was here, in Haos, playing on the same team as your brother. 

On the same team as your boyfriend. 

Holy shit, Mingyu was your boyfriend.

Mingyu was your boyfriend, words you chose to say on the same day the boy you had fallen in too far deep with appears on his baseball team.

“Hansol!”

Finally his gaze of disbelief was ripped from you, having you loose a breath you were holding. Murmurs of his voice, nothing more than a hum hit you where you were standing, a sound so incredibly comforting it had tears welling up in your eyes. You’re sure it was pleading, and apologies, and excuses for missing the easiest play for a first baseman.

He hurried toward Seungcheol and the coach, as did the team, and you hightailed it off the field while no one's eyes were on you, hurried for the closest bathroom and hid yourself in a stall, collapsing to the floor with rushed breaths, willing your heart to calm down.

home;run masterlist | talk to me | ao3

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

[fairlyang]

Appreciate 🕷️

caught masturbating while babysitting

w/c: 5.1K

pairing: dilfneighbor!miguel x latinababysitter!reader

tags: 18+ smut. slow burn oops, age gap (not specified but reader is early 20's, mig early 30's, dirty thoughts ensue, caught masturbating, he helps you out, fingering, staying quiet

notes: the getting caught fucking KILLED me rn while editing I cannot😭

Miguel O'Hara was one of your neighbors and your parents quickly got a liking to the single father across the street. He was very laidback and kind, accommodating with all the neighbors for literally anything.

So considering that when Miguel would say he never had time for himself due to always taking care of his daughter, Gabriella, your dad told him you'd be happy to babysit for him while he took him out to get a couple drinks with a few of the other dads in the neighborhood.

But of course you had no fucking clue this conversation was even had until the day your dad promised him some drinks.

"Oye mija le prometí a Miguel que ibas a quedar a su hija para sacarlo a tomarnos unos tragos." He tells you standing by your doorway while you sat on your bed and then just walks away. (Hey honey I promised Miguel that you were going to take care of his daughter so we could take him out to have a couple drinks)

"Porque hiciste eso?!!?!" You yelled and quickly hopped out of bed and ran after him beyond pissed. (Why did you do that?!!?!)

"Si apenas me estaba alistando para salir con mis amigas no chingues!!!!" You screamed following down the stairs in your heels that clicked on every step. (I was just getting ready to go hang out with my friends. it's a phrase that can be used for shock or when shit goes wrong)

"Pues dile a Miguel que se canceló el plan entonces." He says so confident you wouldn't do it until you walk past him and heading straight to the front door. (Then go tell Miguel that the plans are canceled)

"AY OKAY! Que quieres?" He says and rolls his eyes as you turn around to face him. (What do you want?)

"Me debes un enorme favor. Lo que sea cuando te lo pida." You say and point a finger at him, just to show you really mean it. (You owe me enormous favor. Whatever it is, whenever I ask you of it)

"Ya que-" (ugh whatever- or like 'since I have no other choice')

"Tu mismo te hiciste esto." You quickly cut him off and he only groans. (You only did this to yourself)

"Pues deja me pongo cómoda. Ya que no tengo otra opción." You say and glare at him to which he only gives you a goofy smile. (Let me get comfortable. Now that I don't have another option)

You reluctantly went upstairs, annoyed that this was how your Friday night was gonna go over going clubbing with your friends.

But shit happens, what can you really do?

You go back to your room and take off your perfectly chosen red mini dress and put the sweats you were wearing earlier back on. You then grab a tee shirt that had hello kitty on it with some sunglasses, hoping to get some brownie points by the little girl at least.

You then slip on a pair of purple crocs and you're done. Until you realized you had already put your makeup on so now you have to take it off.

What a waste.

You grab a makeup wipe that you had on your desk and wipe off your eye makeup, then everything else only leaving your lips alone.

Then grabbing your phone off your bed, sending a quick text to your friends that you can't make it and you head back downstairs. "Vámonos." Your dad says and snaps his finger as if he has any room to complain. (Let's go.)

He opened the front door and you walked out right behind him as you mumble how annoying he was to which he told you to just calm down and it wouldn't be that bad.

You walked across the street and stepped up to his front door, your dad ringing the doorbell to which you then hear loud footsteps coming from inside.

Then the door opens by none other than the very energetic 8 year old. This was going to be a long night...

You smile down at her and give her a wave which she returns and gives you a toothy grin of her own. "Gabi donde está tu papá?" You asked and she just pointed up. (where's your dad?)

"Se está poniendo sus tenis! Dijo voy a jugar con alguien nueva." She says and goes back inside letting out giggles as she walks to the living room. (He's putting on his shoes! He said I get to play with someone new)

You follow her in and see coloring books, crayons, colored pencils and markers all over the coffee table in front of the tv. "Te gusta colorear?" She asked as she takes a seat behind the table as you make your way around the couch to sit on the floor with her. (Do you like to color?)

"Si me encanta!" You say and her eyes lit up. (Yes I love it!)

Suddenly you hear footsteps coming down the stairs and straighten up as Miguel comes down giving you a bright smile.

And lord did he clean up nice.

He was wearing a black button up with some jeans and black boots, and his hair slicked back. You gave him a smile as he walked over to you and Gabi, who was also shining her big smile. "Papi también le gusta colorear!!" She says jumping up onto the couch and grinning ear to ear. (she also likes to color!!)

He gasps and tickles her sides making her erupt into fits of giggles, "de verdad?" He says and turns to you, to which you give a small shrug and just smile. (really?)

He stops tickling her and she hops off the couch just to sit back down on the floor. You turn to him and he walks around the couch leaning down, and gives you a quick kiss on your cheek to which you return at the same time.

"Thank you so much for this, I really appreciate it." He says and you pull back, waving him off before he continues, "Gabi's on a little sugar rush right now but she'll be calm within the next hour and will want to go to bed right after. She's a very deep sleeper so feel free to use the tv and help yourself to any of the food."

You nod and watch as he bends over and whispers something to her ear to which Gabi nods and gives him a thumbs up. He gets up and mouthed another thank you then walks out the front door.

Maybe this won't be too bad.

And it wasn't.

You ended up coloring two pages of a finding nemo coloring book while she was coloring on a spongebob coloring book. And surprisingly stayed in the lines.

After that she wanted you to play with her dolls to which you felt happy to, it was like reliving your childhood and she was such a sweet kid.

You noticed it was 8pm and helped Gabi put away all her coloring things and let her lead you to her bedroom.

She runs in as you carry her art supplies and she points to a desk for you to leave them on.

You walk over to her dresser where Miguel left a pair of pjs for her to put on and help her take off shoes as well as her glittery shirt and pants.

She then puts on her pjs and goes off to brush her teeth all by herself. Made your job even easier.

She runs back in after a few minutes and plops down onto her bed, "can you tuck me in? Porfis?" She asks and give little puppy dog eyes. (Please)

"Of course." You nod and walk over to her princess bed.

"Como un burrito!" She giggles making you laugh. (Like a burrito!)

So you pull her blanket over her body and let her lift her arms before tucking her in tightly which just made the little girl giggle. You go down and tuck her nicely tight before coming up and passing her the stuffed animal she was reaching for.

A spider.

Weird option but it had cute eyes.

"Goodnight Gabi, sueña de cosas bonitas." You whisper and smile at her as she gives you one back. (dream of pretty things)

You turn off her lamp from her bedside table, then walk towards her door, turning the light switch off before finally closing the door.

You head downstairs, turning off all the lights, and plop down on one of the couches in the living room. You scroll on your phone but then quickly grow bored so you reach over the coffee table and grab the remote control.

You turn the tv on and go through the apps they had and decide to watch 'A Nightmare on Elm Street'. You kick your crocs off then make yourself comfortable before turning to watch the tv.

You got to watch the first scene before your eyes started fluttering and you pass out.

You don't wake up until you hear the jingle of the door and you jump up, wiping your eyes and sitting up to watch Miguel come through the door, surprisingly not shit faced.

You stood up and greeted him with a hug, then a kiss on the cheek as he gives you one back. "Como les fue?" You ask and he shrugs. (How'd it go?)

You then pull away and take quick notice of the lipstick stains along his neck. You look back up at him and he smiles, "estuvo bien." (It was good)

Sure looks like it.

You shrug and smile, "que bien! If you need me to babysit just let my parents know and hopefully I'll be available." You offer and he sighs. (That's good!)

"I really appreciate it," he starts and takes his wallet out which you look at with a confused look, "me vale que era un favor, no me siento bien en no pagarte un poco." (I don't care that it was a favor, I feel bad in not paying you a little bit)

"Y más porque tu papá me dijo que tu ya tenías planes y ni sabías de esto." He says with a sympathetic smile while handing you a $50 bill. (And more because your dad told me that you had plans and didn't even know about this)

You widen your eyes and shake your head, "no te preocupes! Está bien y Gabi se porto bien! No me tienes que pagar Miguel." You say and wave him off. (Don't worry about it! It's okay and Gabi behaved well! You don't have to pay me.)

"Por favor tómalo, me siento mal. Agarra el dinero para que tomes con tus amigas, yo picho." He says, letting out a chuckle at the last two words and you sigh. (Please take it, I feel bad. Grab the money so you can drink with your friends, I'll pay."

His eyes were pleading and it looked like he felt bad but it wasn't even his fault. If anything your dad should be the one paying.

"Si no para la próxima le digo a Gabi que lo esconda en tu ropa." He threatens making you burst out laughing. (If not for the next time I'll tell Gabi to hide it in your clothes)

"Creo que quiero ver eso..." you joke and he laughs. (I think I wanna see that)

"Mis papas me matarán si lo tomo Miguel. De verdad estás bien!" You reassure him and he sighs. (My parents will kill me if I take it Miguel. Seriously you're fine!)

"Eres bien terca." He mutters and you scoff. (You're very stubborn)

A smirk tugs on his lips and you had to fight the thoughts entering your mind. Sure he was fine as hell, you already knew that but you shouldn't be thinking this mid conversation.

"Maybe next time I'll accept it!" You say and shrug as he slides the bill back in his wallet.

"Fine." He sighs in defeat and tilts his head to the side, "but I'll still make Gabi hide it in your clothes just for good measure." He jokes making you smile.

"Yeah yeah." You wave him off and walk past him to the front door.

"Thank you again, I appreciate it." He says turning to face you and opens the door for you.

"Course! Anytime, and now I'll actually know about it." You joke making him roll his eyes.

"Tu papá es algo más." He says and you nod. (Your dad is something else)

"Lo se." You mutter and finally walk out before you waste anymore of his time. (I know)

"Cuidate!" He shouts as you walk out of his porch and onto the sidewalk. (Stay safe!)

You turn back to him and wave before turning back and crossing the street back to your house. You open the door assuming your dad didn't lock it and sure enough it was open.

As you stepped in and closed the door you noticed Miguel was still outside his door, making sure you did stay safe.

So sweet.

You give him one last wave before closing the door and immediately head to your room.

You open the door and quickly close it before taking off your crocs once again and plopping down onto your bed.

And now finally your thoughts could roam free.

His hair was slicked back before he left the house, right now that shit was all over the place.

And the lipstick stains on his neck??

He definitely got his own fun tonight but you couldn't help but feel so jealous.

It's not your fault if you occasionally had a wandering eye whenever Miguel was around.

Or peeking out through your bedroom window to watch him when he mowed the lawn. Shirtless.

Or stare at him longer than you should at random carne asadas the neighbors would host.

It was natural for a young woman to feel attraction towards an older man like him.

Especially with daddy issues but that's besides the point-

He stood out from the other dads in the neighborhood, he was younger. Respectful, kind, helpful.

Everything a woman could ever ask for.

So you couldn't help but instantly felt a twinge of jealousy when you saw the lipstick stains on his neck.

Why couldn't that be you that left them?

At least now you know he looked really good in red..

But at what cost? Feeling your entire being now getting taken over by jealousy of a man you have no right to and probably stand no chance in ever having?

Or touching...

And there came the horny thoughts that always seemed to appear in the back of your mind. He always just did something to you. Your body couldn't help but want him, crave him, his touch.

So you repeated the endless cycle of anytime you see him just having to masturbate. It was becoming a bad habit, but not hurting anyone.

——————

Alas you had to use your own fingers to make you cum and not Miguel's. Again.

But you moved on and let the next day pass. Nothing eventful happened, and there were no Miguel sightings to be found.

That was until you got a text from an unknown number and low and behold it was the man you were daydreaming about all day.

Unknown number

Hey it's Miguel! I asked your dad for your number, hope that's fine but was wondering if you could babysit for me tmrw?

Got scheduled for a late shift at the lab and don't want Gabi home alone🥲

It was embarrassing how quickly you started typing your response but how could you say no?

You're good!! And I'd love to! What time?

No way he could sense your desperation to see him again through text. Right?

You added him to your contacts before he finally texts back.

Miguel💞

Around 6, getting out at midnight so please let me pay you this time

You sigh and quickly type back.

Alrightttt

And sounds good I'll be seeing you guys tmrw:)

And with that no more messages from him came in but he left a like to your second message.

And the rest of your night was uneventful besides the occasional wet dream filling your mind and distracting you.

——————

It was the next day and you were practically counting down the hours until you had to go babysit.

Given you wouldn't even see Miguel for too long before or after but still. You'd have to make do with the amount of time you will see him.

But because you knew you'd just be playing or coloring with Gabi again, you decided to just dress comfortably over trying to impress Miguel for less than five minutes.

So sweats and a tee shirt again but no bra because who the fuck wants to willingly wear a bra for six hours?

Yeah right.

Now all dressed you grabbed your airpods and phone, slipped your crocs on and went downstairs. Saying a quick goodbye to your parents before exiting your house and trying not to skip on over to Miguel's house.

It was 5:45 but you figured you'd get there early just cause, definitely not to possibly spend a little more time with him.

Definitely not.

You walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell. Instantly the door flew open and Gabi opened the door wide so you could come in.

You ruffle her hair as she grins up at you, "cómo estás Gabi?" (How are you?)

"Bien! Apenas comí pozole!" She says as you walk in and she happily closes the door behind you. (Good! I just ate pozole!)

You gasp and were about to respond when Miguel came down. "The pot is still warm si te quieres servir un plato." He says giving you a quick hug and kiss on your cheek. (if you want a plate)

"Might just have to." You reply giving him a smile once he pulled away.

He was wearing a white lab coat, maybe a white button up and you didn't want to look down to see the rest.

His hair was slicked back again but the best part was that he was wearing thick black glasses. It made him look 100x more attractive but you remained calm.

No way to act like a barbarian right now.

Maybe later.

"Okay have her in bed by seven because she's got school tomorrow and no sweets besides pan dulce with a glass of milk." He says and you chuckle as Gabi storms up to him with a pout on her face.

But he didn't budge.

"Tv and fridge are all yours. Make yourself at home and I'll be back by midnight." He tells you then looks down at Gabi.

"Pórtate bien." He says, leaning down and giving her a kiss on her forehead and a hug. (Behave)

"Ya se papi, ya se." She says and playfully rolls her eyes. (I know dad, I know)

He gives her a warning look before blowing her a kiss as he walks to the front door. He gives her one last look and she just waves him goodbye. He chuckles and opens the door then shuts it behind him.

"Can we watch Bluey?" She looks up at you with pleading little eyes and you nod as she sprints to the living room without another word.

So you end up watching Bluey with Gabi for a good nine episodes before you were slowly losing yourself into this little kids show. The little accents and cute storylines just got to your heartstrings.

And with fifteen minutes left to spare, you wait until the episode Gabi was watching was over before hitting the back button leading you back to the disney+ home screen.

Gabi whined and you shook your head, "no more, you've gotta get ready for bed!"

She groans but nonetheless heads upstairs with you trailing behind her. She gets dressed into her pjs then heads straight to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

She's literally an angel.

No way Miguel would have a hard time finding a sitter for her. She's every babysitter's dream. Besides the occasional sarcasm she got from her dad.

But nonetheless still an angel.

Finally she's in bed and you're tucking her in, once again passing her the stuffed spider, who you learned she named Gabri, after her favorite uncle.

You then shut off the lights and walk out of her room, closing the door gently.

You walk back downstairs turning off the lights before heading to the living room. You plop down on the couch and get comfortable, this time putting on a blanket that was on the armrest because it was getting cold.

You play a random movie, snuggling the blanket to your face to warm yourself up when you realize it smells like Miguel.

Maybe he was sitting there earlier?

You breathed in and breathed out, feeling so relaxed. Your eyes start fluttering and it's the second time you pass out at Miguel's place. 

You get woken up by screams coming from the tv, probably wasn't the best to play a scary movie but oh well.

You stretched and let out a yawn before switching positions and laying down so your legs were stretched out over the whole couch. You laid your head on the arm rest and wiped your eyes before taking your phone and airpods from your pocket.

You put them both in your ears before just scrolling through your phone. You move the blanket so it was mostly by your chest and stomach, exposing your legs because you weren't cold but still wanted it on you.

Just then you inhale his scent again and he must've been wearing something expensive because it smelled so good.

You then got the absolute best idea imaginable. And with Miguel being away for another two hours along with Gabi sleeping and probably snoring heavily in her room, you would be good.

So you put some music on, a mix of The Weeknd and Lana Del Rey to get you in the perfect mood. But as you closed your eyes your imagination immediately ran wild and there was no stopping you.

You spread your legs and slowly ran a hand over your body, playing with your tits then softly pinching your hardened nipples. Then trailing it up and down your stomach before it lands on the waistband of your sweats.

You slipped your hand in and began by just tracing along your inner thigh, then went deeper. You led two fingers down to rub your clit, only a couple circles before going down and rubbing your slit over your panties.

Your arousal was already building up, and this blanket was helping a ton. You just imagined Miguel on top of you, not caring if he crushed you, just craving him above you. The way he'd be looking down at your eyes while he toyed with you. Had his way with you.

You needed him so desperately, his touch, his mouth, his fingers. Absolutely everything and anything he'd give you.

Your fingers made their way back up to your clit and you started rubbing faster circles against it while bucking your hips up, imagining it's Miguel's fingers.

A moan slipped past your lips and you tried your best to keep quiet as your fingers worked fairly against your bundle of nerves.

"Miguel-" you whispered before letting out a shaky breath as you held onto the blanket tightly with your left arm.

Just the thought of this big, smoking hot dilf climbing on top of you was almost enough to make you explode.

Fortunately your thoughts went broader than that.

Not only is he tall, and big but his cock would most definitely be the best thing you'd ever lay your eyes on. He'd be really thick and you'd probably struggle keeping him inside you.

He'd stretch you out to absolute perfection and you'd tighten around him so good he's be moaning out your name from how good your pussy feels.

You felt your slick seep through your panties and it only made you more relentless. You slipped your hand under your panties, and brought your two fingers to tease your hole.

You'd need the practice.

You dipped your fingers into your folds, just letting your fingers get soaked before finally slipping them both in making you whine.

You bite your lip to shut yourself up before slipping them in harshly, imagine that's how Miguel would fuck you. You feel yourself clench against your fingers as you start to fuck yourself immediately fast, needing him so fucking badly.

His cock would fill you up so good and you wouldn't mind if he came inside. You wouldn't want him to waste any of it.

You cover your mouth with the blanket let yourself moan into it, as you breathe him in with every inhale. You let out mumbled moans of just his name, as you start to fuck yourself harder, your immersion working better than ever tonight.

And it might've manifested into itself when you felt a gently tap on your shoulder which made you open your eyes, and freeze in fear.

It was Miguel.

"W-w-what are you d-doing back so e-early?!?" You ask as you felt your heartbeat increase rapidly.

But you couldn't seem to slip your fingers out. Unable to move and staring blankly ahead and not to your right as Miguel's body loomed over you.

"Finished what we needed to do faster than expected." He says and you could feel his gaze on you. It was hard to miss.

And you were growing more and more nervous by the second. "And this is what you're doing huh?" He whispers and it doesn't help your nerves at all but does make you clench against your fingers.

"I-I- I'm sorry-" you apologize feeling your body flush with embarrassment but get interrupted.

"A good hour before I was meant to come home too. Que pensaste?" He snarls and you hold your breath. (what were you thinking?)

Shit.

"Aww and gripping this poor blanket for dear life." He says in that teasing tone but you don't have it in you to look at him.

"No me lo esperaba de ti." He whispers and you take a deep breath. (I wasn't expecting this from you)

"P-perdón-" (S-sorry)

"Shh stay quiet..." he whispers and see him going down to his knees out of your peripheral.

"Let me appreciate you in some other way for what you've done for me tonight." He murmurs softly in your ear.

He then brings a hand down between your legs, before placing his hand on top of yours, fingers still buried inside you. Your lip was quivering and you couldn't believe this was happening.

And you're not dreaming.

He then pulls it away only to slip it under your sweats then panties before sliding his fingers between your folds. You whimpered and bucked your hips up, always a needy mess.

"What did I stay? Stay quiet." He coos in your ear, bringing his other hand up to your throat, lightly squeezing.

You finally turn your head to look at him only to smile at him before he leans in to kiss you. You kissed back immediately and he lets go of your throat and instead cups your jaw as you moan into his mouth. He pulls away making you pout, "No hagas que me repita nena." He whispers and you nod. (Don't make me repeat myself baby girl)

"Take your fingers out for me." He whispers and you nod, immediately listening.

You slip your fingers out and take them out between your legs. "Good girl." He murmurs and move his fingers down, teasing your hole with the tip of his finger.

"Miguel- fuck-" you moan then cover your mouth with the blanket again.

"Need more?" He coos and you whimper, nodding.

"Tell me." He whispers and you move your hand away.

"Please- I need you so fucking badly- por favor, te necesito- mmm te necesito tanto Miguel." You plead and he slides his fingers inside you. (Please I need you, I need you so much)

"Feel good huh baby?" He asks and you nod, unable to speak as his fingers start pumping into you fast.

You clamp a hand over your already covered mouth and try your hardest to keep quiet but his fingers filled you up. Two fingers, were able to feel fulfilling inside you.

"Estas tan hermosa mami." He whispers in your ear and you let out a muffled whimper, your walls clenching against his fingers. (You're so beautiful)

He left gentle kisses along your jaw, and neck while pumping his fingers faster and harder. You rolled your eyes back as you kept quiet, or tried to.

You bucked your hips up and tilted your head to the side as Miguel began sucking on your skin, leaving marks then kissing them after. Your walls clenched against your fingers and you could feel that familiarity in your lower abdomen.

"Te vas a quedar bien calladita para mi verdad?" He whispers making you gasp and nod. (You're gonna stay real quiet for me right?)

He starts fucking into you harder and curls his fingers up, hitting that sweet spot of yours with every thrust as you feel your legs begin to shake. Your eyes began to flutter and you tried to keep your eyes open, you wanted to how he'd react to you cumming.

You then feel his thumb rubbing fast circles against your clit which only makes it harder for you to stay quiet. You bit your lips and held all your moans in as your climax hit and your entire body starts to shake. You covered your mouth and breathed heavily as he fucked you slower, moving his thumb away.

You close your eyes and let out heavy pants as he stops and lets his fingers stay inside. "You did so good baby... how's that instead of money?" He whispered and you just gave him a drunken smile unable to have any thoughts.

"Still gonna leave you with both." He coos and kisses your cheek softly.

He pulls his fingers out slowly, then slips them out your juices dripping down and definitely staining your poor panties even more.

He slips his fingers out of your panties and sweats and then brings them up to your mouth which you instantly put into your mouth. You tasted yourself as your eyes fluttered and your breathing finally had calmed down.

You then let go of his fingers with a plop and he leans in, kissing you again but passionately. Tongue in your mouth, also wanting to have a taste of you. After a solid fifteen seconds he pulls away and murmurs, "Thank you for babysitting again. If you want you can stay the night, te ves muy cansada... pobrecita." (you look so tired, poor girl)

[one-beer-is-not-enough]

Posting Sofia's character intro at last! Not as in depth as Marcel, her personality and looks will evolve more in the future lol. Also forgot to credit @jimothy-hopkins for the template in Marcel's intro, apologies!

Cheerleader, but wishes there was a girls' team. Makes it her life's mission to torment Burton

Manages to land a part-time job in town. Surprise surprise, dad isn't giving her any money either!

Has some violent tendencies due to the way she grew up. Very competitive because their dad would always pit the three of them against each other

She's fairly popular thanks to her looks, but she has a massive inferiority complex and always feels judged. Tries to appear unbothered, meanwhile there are sirens constantly blaring in her head

"I'm an academic weapon" <- 5 minutes before sobbing over a grade

Character sheet! Sorry Beatrice, my girl is incredibly insecure💀 Decided to make a sorta in-game portrait for her, and might as well post Marcel's too:

Lore bits:

Gets the jocks to do almost anything she asks, such as fighting other people for her. In return, she helps them with schoolwork. Them also finding her attractive doesn't hurt

Ironically, speaks better Italian than Marcel and will forever mock him

Good friends with Mandy and the other cheerleaders, but she scares them a little when she's got her sights on someone who wronged her. She's overprotective with those she cares about, kind of like a mom friend who desperately needs therapy

Sofia grew in a very misogynistic environment because of their dad's worldview. If Marcel and Rafael unknowingly manifested even a hint of their dad's mindset, she'd be onto them like a vulture <- aka firmly scolding Rafael and kicking Marcel in the balls

Works at one of the local grocery stores for a while, but gets fired after getting into a screaming-match with a customer a few weeks in. She buys a bike with her savings and starts doing delivery work instead

Big sports fan, always watches anything available on TV. She loves tennis in particular, even though their dad forced the kids to learn it with an iron fist (he really plays into the stereotypical rich prick persona). Her match number with Marcel is well into the hundreds.

Hates the nerds with a passion, considers them all disgusting and sexual freaks. After the whole mess with Earnest taking pictures of her and Marcel attempting to get him institutionalized, she deadass asks their dad if he can 'take him out of the picture'. To which he responds: 'Man up and do it yourself'

Sofia is on good terms with the greasers. She befriended Ricky during shop class, through the topic of bikes. He even develops a bit of a crush on her, but she's too oblivious to realize it until she notices that he doesn't complain about his ex anymore, at least around her. She also regularly hangs out with Lola, they could just sit and gossip for hours

The preps mostly tolerate Sofia on account of being associated with Pinky and Marcel. She gets invited to parties occasionally, but they're careful not to let her drink too much... Drunk Sofia is a menace 💀

Sofia's well aware of her father's criminal practices, but has no intention of being involved once she's fully independent. And he won't bother forcing her down a career path like he'll do with Marcel, again for misogynistic reasons. She hopes to be a successful athlete one day

I've mentioned her a ton in the answers to the asks you guys sent, and now she has a proper introduction lol. I'll have to do something for Rafael but he's not super high on the priority list right now

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Not Just Tired- Poe Dameron x Reader

Summary: Poe finds out why reader has been so tired lately, and it’s a big announcement

Work count: 758

A/N: This is my first time writing a Poe thing so I hope you guys like it!

Want to be tagged in my next Poe fic? Click here

“Whoever thinks they can out-drink me tonight is sorely mistaken!” You hear your best friend Poe proclaim as he returns from a no doubt successful mission.

Usually you’d be right there to meet him after a mission, goading him into his drinking challenge, so to not find you there was odd. In fact he didn’t find you in any of your usual places. It wasn’t until him and his team made it back to their quarters, ready to shower and head off, did he find you in your own room.

“Here she is. Couldn’t find you anywhere, babe,” he playfully flirted.

“Hey are you okay?”

His genuine concern was followed by his warm hand rubbing up and down your hip.

You were faced toward the wall and away from him. If he could see your face, stained with tears and eyes bloodshot, he wouldn’t have to ask that.

“Yeah, just tired.”

If this had been the first time you’d used that excuse on him lately, then he might have believed you, but that seemed to be your go-to excuse for the past two weeks.

“Tired isn’t all you are.”

“What do you mean, Dameron?”

His comment made you too annoyed to think about him seeing your face. Turning toward him, his slightly angry face became filled with pure concern.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Poe tried to reach out for you, but you dodged him, and made for an escape to your little ensuite. Unfortunately you weren’t fast enough, as Poe grabbed your forearm.

“Look, something is wrong and you’re going to tell me right now. You are not ‘just tired’ and I won’t play this game with you. Tell me what the fuck-“

“I’m pregnant, Poe!”

You didn’t want this to be how he found out, honestly you weren’t sure if you would even tell him. The mix of both the pregnancy and what you’d do were what was causing your new onset of fatigue and anxieties. You hadn’t slept right in days and you’ve been trying to work it all out alone.

“A-an-and you’re the father…”

Your words seem to hang around in the air for a long time, and the regret and anxieties felt crushing. You wish you could scoop the words up and take it all back, but it was too late.

Feeling suffocated by the silence, you make an attempt to leave again, but suddenly you felt a gentle hand on your cheek. Looking up, you see Poe staring at you, a tear in his eye and a stupid goofy smile on his lips. By the stars that stupid smile never fails to make your heart race.

“I’m gonna be a dad?”

His response honestly confused you, and you had no idea how to react. Poe and you weren’t really dating, you were best friends and you sleep together, but you didn’t think there was anything romantic there. Maybe you did have a bit of a crush on him, but that was just silly, right?

“Yo-you want me to keep it?”

You can’t help but stare at him, nothing else coming to mind of what to say.

Poe couldn’t seem to reply to your question, seemingly in a world of his own. His hand came down to your stomach as he looked into your eyes warmly.

“Sweetheart, this is your body and it’s your choice, but if you’d have me, I want to make you the happiest woman in the world and be the best father for our baby. I care for you, and I should have shown it earlier, I guess I was just scared and stupid.”

Two hands now came down and circled around your waist. His eyes searched yours for anything, any hope that he wasn’t making an idiot out of himself.

“You gonna take me on a proper date first, Dameron or are you just gonna skip straight to building a crib and birthing classes?”

Your teasing and usual cheeky smile put Poe at ease. You wanted this just as much as he did, you both were just too stupid to realise it.

Sweetly, his hand came up to your cheek again, his eyes filled with care and love.

“Who says we can’t do both?”

Your airy chuckle at his responsive teasing was quickly cut short, as his lips pressed lovingly against yours.

Sure you’d kissed Poe heaps of times before, but this was different. Instead of heat and desperation, this kiss was filled with pure love and care. It wasn’t just a kiss, it was a vow and a promise.

[boiohboii]

The people's sweethearts

Ch II

(Verstappen!reader x tom holland x zendaya)

Soulmate au

YN Verstappen had been through hell, by her own father, for something she didn't even ask for. She grew up learning that she should hate what was given to her, after all it was the reason her father was always angry with her. So what should she do when the one thing she learned to hate is the one thing that brings her love, safe and comfort that not even her older brother can compare.

WARNING: not proof read, Jos Verstappen (worsned like 10 times for this fic) poly relationship, derogatory terms by father, abusive father. If I missed anything else please let me know

Masterlist

ch.I

Faceclaim: kiki hertz

Tom prided himself in never exposing his soulmark, he let a lot of things out that shouldn't be and his soulmark not being one of those is such an achievement. Mostly because from a very young age, when he started acting, his mother would make sure he covered it up with makeup so that no one, not even those behind the scenes would see it.

"So, you're invited to watch cars drive in circles?"

Meeting Zendaya had been a dream, they both felt the need to be closer to each other whenever possible even before they discovered their identical soulmarks. Both of them working and hanging around each other made it so much difficult to conceal their newfound relationship and eventually the whole world knew that both of them were soulmates, and not just that, everyone was now aware that Tom Holland and Zendaya Coleman were fated to have a third lover, a third soul with them to keep them sane from all the chaos their lives bring in the form of fans and crazy paparazzi.

"How can you say that?" Tom looked back at his girlfriend as he poured himself some tea "you literally met Lewis Hamilton not that long ago!"

Tom was painfully aware of the fact that Zendaya isn't that interested in either of the sports he enjoys: formula 1 and golf.

"Oh yeah, at a fashion show," Zendaya recalls as she moves over to hug tom from behind, resting her chin on his head. "He was nice."

"Do you think we'll meet our darling soon?" Zendaya asked, making Tom leave his drink to hold her hand in reassurance.

"I think so," turning around he let go of one of zendaya's hands to let his palm rest on her cheek "I know that I met you when I kept thinking about my soulmate, so I have a feeling that we'll meet darling soon."

The couple had taken to calling their third soulmate Darling, a nickname that they both agreed to reserve for their missing soul.

"Yeah, I feel so too."

Liked by maxverstappen1, F1wags&faves, verstappentruther and 683,519 others

Kellypiquet: a weekend with her was truly missed.

maxverstappen1: ♥️♥️

username: God, yn verstappen is so pretty

username: I wanna be her soulmate so bad

username: LOOK AT HER CHEEKS! I WANNA BITE THEM!

With his work schedule Tom wasn't able to attend much f1 races, but when he could he did, and most of them were the infamous English track, Silverstone.

But here in Monaco, the races were something else, Tom can feel how the people in this country were raised watching these cars from their homes, cheering for their favorite driver and the preparations for the race throughout the entire country are just mind blowing (he promised himself that he would bring Zendaya here for a vacation, this place is amazing).

"Is something wrong?" The voice of Christian Horner stopped Tom dead in his tracks, the team principle of the red bull formula 1 team making him feel like a little child caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

"Oh, um, yeah, yes-" clearing his throat Tom couldn't help still looking around, wanting to see the reason of the all too familiar tugging his heart "just looking around, the race is very different from Silverstone, the atmosphere is just so..."

And there it was, the reason his heart is pulling, the person he hoped he would meet as soon as he felt their presence in this specific garage, his darling; their darling.

"Well, Monaco is the heart of motorsport, especially formula 1, you can't live here without being a fan really."

Christian wasn't an idiot, he had eyes and his observational skills were too good. It wouldn't be the first time he witnessed a celebrity looking at yn verstappen, the girl hooking everyone in with her innocent face and charming smile. It would, however, be the first time he saw someone loose their breath over her and he knew what that meant, he knew that expression; he had went through it when he met his wife, he saw it on Max when he met Kelly and now he is going to see it on yn.

He thought he met an angel when he saw Zendaya, he thought that the feeling he would get when meeting their darling wouldn't be as strong, as intense, but seeing her there, standing next to Adrian Newey with a notebook and a pen in her hands, discussing something that seemed so important, made him unaware of anything else. She was all he could see, hear and feel. She was who they had been missing, and god did she make him want to scream at the top of his lungs.

He felt his chest swell up with emotions as he quickly reached for his phone, calling the one person he knew would calm him down.

"Hey baby, how's the race going?"

"Z, she's here," Tom rushed out as he maneuvered between the never ending sea of people to a quite place- well as quite as it can get in Monaco during a formula 1 race.

"What? Who's here?"

"Darling! She's here!"

"Darling is a she?"

Gathering her thoughts Zendaya left the lounge area of her hotel suite, dismissing the makeup artists and stylists with a smile and wave of her hand before entering the bedroom within the suite.

"Okay, okay, calm down baby," Zendaya spoke as she ran her hand through her hair "how about you go talk to her, yeah?"

"I can't, oh my god, what if she doesn't even feel the same pull- it's a stupid way to describe it but you know that's how I felt when I met you and it's the same but so much worse cause you're not here with me and I can't do this-"

"Honey, calm down, it's okay, let's take it step by step, did you check her wrist?" Being met with silence worried the tall girl, she knew how it might come off to him when she was basically asking him to check actual evidence and not take his feelings too seriously "I know your feelings, I get that, I felt the same with you, but it's better to be safe than sorry."

"Yeah, yeah," shuffling was heard before Tom apologies for, what zendaya assumed, pumping into someone "no, yeah, you're right, stay with me on the line, I'm going to try and see. She's wearing a sleeveless dress so that will make it easier."

Even though she didn't want to spoil it for herself, she wanted to get 100% of the awe and the fondness for herself, Zendaya couldn't help but ask "what does she look like?"

"So beautiful, Z" the way Tom spoke, the breathlessness and amazement in his voice made her want to cry, she wanted to be there, she wanted to be with him when they first saw her, that's how they always envisioned it.

"Okay, so I checked, and oh my god it's there, it's the same Z, what am I supposed to do, oh my god"

"Here's what you're going to do, you're going to tell her right now!"

"There are like 100 people around, how am I supposed to do that!"

"I don't know tom, tell her you wanna speak to her or something, make it up!"

"I can't do this, I can't, I am freaking out!"

"Oh my god, you're an actor, pretend it's a scene"

"Will you be able to pretend?"

"Well no, but I'm not the one that can see her, am I!"

"Okay, okay, deep breaths, I am going to tell her with you on the phone, alright?" Tom said as he started moving towards the blonde, his confidence building up with his taller soulmate cheering him on through the phone

"Holy shit" and there goes the little confidence he had

"What? Tom! Answer me! Is she dating someone, I swear to god if she is-"

"No, no, she's not," looking back at his soulmate "at least I don't think she is. God, there's no way I am telling her shit now."

"Why not?"

"Her brother can literally run me over with his small rocketship of a car! I am not doing anything when he is literally two centimetres away from her!"

What Tom failed to realise was how Christian Horner had joined the pair of siblings, telling Max and Yn of his earlier observations, which made all three of them look at the young brit in sync.

"Um, Z, I think we won't have to worry about me telling her."

CH.III

{taglist: @celesteblack08 @minkyungseokie @woozarts @keii134 @celesteblack08 @sainzluvrr @fangirl125reader}

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Hi! I really enjoyed your Yandere insomniac Peter and Harry headcanons! I was wondering if you could do more headcanons for them with a s/o with a chronic illness maybe? There is very little insomniac content out here T-T

A/N: I actually was going to write something like this. I hope you enjoy and please let me know if I got anything wrong. I tried to keep the chronic illness open enough so everyone can read this despite their specific diagnosis. Thank you for requesting.

Warnings: Yandere themes, mentions of brief infantilization and ableism, forced medication

I think in this scenario, Harry would be a lot more intense than Peter. Mainly because this hits very close to home for him. He lost his mom and almost his own life to chronic illness and he doesn't want that same fate for you.

Of course Peter would be a worry wort and very overbearing but I just feel like Harry would take it to extremes.

They both are obsessed with healing the world, but I think they have different definitions of it. Peter wants to rid the world of evil, he wants to see the good in everyone. Harry means it literally..He wants to heal all sickness in the world and he's starting with you.

Peter would be on board with this concept , anything to make his darling's life easier but if your illness isn't fatal and you are relatively okay with your life, he's not pushing treatment down your throat.

Harry doesn't really care if it's fatal or not or if you don't even care about treatment..you will be healed.

Harry is constantly in Emily-May trying to find different possible treatments and medications to help you. Like almost eighty percent of its money is going into your research. He's turned into his father where he's willing to do anything to make sure his family is healthy. He probably even gets support from his dad on this. At this point, Emily-May is like a second home. Everyone knows you and you know then, they probably have a little lounge room made just for you that's right next to their office.

Peter is more on the inventor side of things. He's constantly making new mobility aids, implementing new things to help you get around the house or town, he's even got you wearing something on your chest that monitors your vitals and alerts them of any changes or abnormalities.

Harry presents you with a new medication like every other week for you to try. He'll pretend to be understanding when you refuse but he's probably just sneak it into your food or drinks.

Dr. Curtis Conner visits you quite often, checking up on your health, reactions to medications and helping in any way he can.

On the bright side, Harry completely understands your feelings and what you're going through. He suffered through so much and always lends a listening ear. He's learned from his own experiences what someone dealing with chronic illness may need or want.

Peter is more keen on focussing on you more than being spiderman. Petty crimes and small tasks aren't his problem anymore. You come first unless he really has to save the city and you from destruction.

There are times where infantilization or unintentional ableism can occur. Often a direct result of their obsession and over-protectiveness. My sweet boys didn't mean to hurt your feelings and watching you get upset over something they said or did, makes them crumble. They are quick to apologize and make things better...but some things just aren't going to change. They both will keep trying to "help" you...even if they have to be sneaky about it.

I almost forgot, no, you aren't going out alone. In the last one they barely let their healthy S/O go out so you aren't either. New York can be so disgusting and unfriendly to those who need accessibility and the last thing they'd want is for you to get hurt or have something happen when they aren't there to get you to safety.

Neither are ashamed of you, even on your worst days, they'd proudly show you off. Their Instagrams are full of pictures of the three of you hanging out in bed, at parks or at the doctors, the caption is always the kindest thing. Anyone who has anything discouraging to say will see the ugly side of them. Spider-man might leave them hanging upside down from a light pole

So many of your days are spent in their arms and basking in their protection while you ride out your symptoms. They shower you with love and affection. It's so nice to be able to focus on the warmth of their loving words than to be alone while you're hurting.

Your boyfriends mean very well, they aren't trying to change you because of your illness but they just want to make sure the person who they love so dearly is healthy. Watching you cry out in pain, lose sleep and barely being able to move at times, hurts them. They have the money, resources and intelligence to help you..please let them.

[aurawrawr]

Who am I to you?

Part 3

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna x afab reader x twin brother and Kingsguard Yuuji Itadori

Yuuji is eager to be a father. And when it seems to him that he might not be well equipped to fulfill his goal, he seeks help from the only person he knows will do it without a second thought. But someone should have warned him that this (re)union might breed more than a child, something he'd regret for a long time.

Here's Part 1 and Part 2.

Minors, DNI. WC: 4.9k

CW: smoking, infertility, anger, frustration, feeling humiliated, poisoning, paralysis, heavy drinking, mutual bickering, lots of angst, true form Sukuna, PIV sex, oral [fem receiving(from tummy tongue)], breast play, praises, breeding, talk about pregnancy and motherhood

"He wants to see you.”

You have your head in your hands. As if the past two weeks have not been stressful enough, Yuuji has come to you with a request you can't make heads or tails of. You're not even sure you heard him right. Please have a child with Aniki, that's what you believe he said. But that's insane. Does he have no idea what he's asking for?

"What for? Has he agreed to your proposal?" You're shaking. When you said you wanted to see Ryomen, this is not how you thought it would go.

"He wants to know what you want.”

You scoff. "Do you want to know what I want?”

"You want to be a mother, right? Love, we talked about this before we even started trying. If you had disagreed, I'd have never tried to change your mind. And... and..." Yuuji sits down at the edge of the bed. "By the looks of it, I can't give you a child. So the next best... closest option I can give you is my twin brother. It will be just like having a baby with me, you know.”

"Yuuji, the problem could be with me," You try to reason with your husband.

"Do you really believe that? We studied this for so long, went to doctors and asked for their opinion. We know your cycle is healthy. The bleeding always happens on time. Whereas…”

"There is absolutely no indication that there is something wrong with you either. You do so much physical labor, you stay active, and you have no addictions. Hell, you haven't even touched a bottle of sake since we started trying. If anything, the fact that Ryo has been smoking and drinking since he was fifteen should deter you from making the request that you are."

Yuuji sighs. It's time for him to sit with his head in his hands. Just when you start to think you've gotten through to him, he asks, "please can we try this once?”

So you walk across the courtyard, following your husband's shadow, wavering in the light of the lantern he is holding. It's late, late in the night. The palace is silent, so silent you can hear the snores from the servants' rooms, the clacking of shoes as the guards keep watch, the low hum of a chant from Uraume's room and, of course, your own thumping heartbeat. You were so glad to be finally reuniting with Ryo but so torn to be committing the sin you have been scared of ever since you married Yuuji. What was Ryomen thinking? He should have turned Yuuji down in the first place.

"Aniki," Yuuji calls out from the doorstep. "We're here.”

The room reeks of opium, the smell of yearning and being left behind. The four-armed beast that terrorizes the land is sitting at the window, blowing ringlets of smoke into the air outside. His kimono loosely hangs from his shoulders, baring his chest. You don't know how to look at him without giving away all your truth. So you don't look at him; you look around him.

"Come in," he demands.

Yuuji leads you in by the hand, sitting you down on a couch on the floor. The room has changed so much since you saw it the last time you were allowed to come inside to deliver the King's supper. There is a full-size four post bed taking up a lion's share of the room, it's canopy red and black, a tapestry of danger. You sit in silence, observing the two most important men in your life have a conversation about who gets to breed you. This is the most humiliated you've felt in all your life but you want to see how far they're willing to push your boundaries before they realize they're both losing you.

"My love?" Yuuji beckons you back out of your spiraling thoughts. "Aniki wanted to know if you're okay with all this.”

"Tell him I don't care.”

"That settles it, Yuuji. I don't wish to proceed if she's not willing. It'd be—”

"What I mean is..." You grit your teeth. "I don't care as long as it is something Yuuji wants.”

Your husband rushes to you, kneels and looks up at you with teary eyes. "Thank you, my love. Thank you so much. You make my world a better place to live in. I've never and I can never love anyone as much as I love you. Well, maybe the baby. But both of you will be sharing the same spot on my heart." He kisses your hand and you caress the side of his face when he looks at you like you've just picked the moon from the sky to give it to him. He's so precious, you want to do just that.

You feel a somber gaze on you but Ryo is facing elsewhere when you look up. Only the two eyes on his mask are on you and they give away nothing. Not even a speck of emotion. He's back to being the old him, the Ryo you could never figure out.

Yuuji wipes at his runny nose before standing up. "You two have a lot to catch up on. Why don't I leave you to it? We don't want it to be uncomfortable when you know... you two... yeah, I'm going to... okay! See you later, my love.”

You sit in silence, staring at the door that Yuuji shuts behind him. The night is chilly and the open window beside Ryo is not helping in the slightest. What do you have to talk to him about? What can you even say? I've been imagining your face at the heights of my pleasure for the last five years? Too forward. I'm still gonna call you the name I have our entire lives and not refer to you as the Lord or the King? A little offensive.

He clears his throat and sits up. His kimono falls further apart, drawing your eyes to his abdomen. You only wanted to steal a glance but the sight of his gaping belly shakes you to your very core. He starts to say, "I was thinking—”

But you stop him, "Are you hurt?" Your eyes are fixated on his abdomen and you can swear you see something moving.

"Where?" He follows your gaze. "This? It's only a second mouth.”

You look up at his face in horror, finally meeting his eyes. "A second mouth? What happened— you know what, never mind. Just let me know when—”

"No, go ahead." His voice is suddenly so much softer. "Ask me anything.”

You scoff. "You're much agreeable when you know you're about to fuck me, aren't you?”

His eyes grow darker at your challenge. His jaw tightens. "I shall not tolerate being talked to like that anymore. We're no longer just friends. I am your King and you will remember that.”

"Right. Understood... Sukuna-sama." The sound of your heart breaking is so loud, you barely hear his next words anymore.

"Do you agree? Woman?”

"I'm sorry, could you please repeat yourself... my Lord?" Your eyes are downcast now. The water on your lids make them heavy.

Ryomen sighs. "I suggested we lie to Yuuji. And hopefully he'll give this up in a few months when you don't become with child. Do you agree with that?”

"No, I don't. I too want a child, my Lord, and if you care about your brother, you'll give me one.”

𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸

The next time you see Ryo in his chambers, you go alone. In the middle of the night. The palace is busy for the upcoming coronation of their terrifying protector, readying the halls for guests from neighboring kingdoms. Sneaking is not an option so you carry a tea set up the stairs as an excuse to visit the King.

The fusuma slides open just as you're about to knock, revealing a towering Ryomen on the other side. As if, he has been expecting you. You quickly steer your glance and bow to him. "I'm here with your tea, my Lord."

"Come in." He steps out of your way.

The state of the room surprises you. It does not smell of weed or tobacco anymore; in fact, it smells pleasant. Somehow, it looks bigger, cleaner. You set the tray down on the tatami, kneel in front of it, and Ryomen takes up the spot opposite to you. "Why is there only one cup?" He asks, folding two of his arms over his chest while the other two rest on his thighs.

"Oh, I'm sorry, my Lord. Do you require two separate cups?”

"No, woman, where is your cup?”

You chuckle. "I dare not drink tea with my King now. That'd be blasphemous." You keep the smug smile on your face while you swirl the kyūsu and strain the tea into the cup you brought for Ryomen. He picks it up and takes a sip before placing it back on the tray.

"Drink," he orders. You shake your head, feeling a sudden rush of courage. "I said, drink. You dare to defy your King, do you?”

His words make you stop. There's no ill intent in his words, no authority in his tone, just a friendly challenge. So you bring his cup to your lips to take down a big chug. "You're having fun with this, aren't you?" You ask.

"As much as you are." There's a smirk on his lips, like there used to be on your friend, Ryomen's lips.

Nothing happens that night. The tray sits between as you two chat about things like old friends do, the air filled with your chuckles as he teases you for being a missus now, for not treating him after the wedding, for not realizing how quick the passing of time and his absence could change everything.

"Have you been to see her?" You ask, pouring again from the teapot.

Ryo knows what you're talking about. "I have. The crime scene had one name written all over it. Yours. What did you do?" He sounds proud.

"Just this berry and that leaf and that other fruit. I only wanted to make sure she can never use her hand to hit someone close to me ever again.”

Ryo smirks, sipping on his tea before handing the cup to you. "And what about my father?”

"I had nothing to do with Otou-san's death. If anything, I believe it was your half-brother's greed." You sigh. "You see what I've married into?”

He scoffs. "Now now, you keep my little brother out of this. His lamb-like innocence makes up for the dysfunctionality of the rest of my family. I'm sorry. I mean, our family.”

𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸

The morning of the coronation, you wake up to the sound of someone knocking on your door. Your husband climbs off the bed before you can. "I'll see who it is, my love. You stay put." You shuffle out of the sheets anyway, your robes intact.

There's a woman's voice outside. "Sukuna-sama has sent your attires for today. I will be helping the lady with her jūnihitoe."

"Jūnihitoe?" Yuuji and you ask at the same time.

"Yes. That is what Sukuna-sama wanted. Is there a problem?"

You shrug at your husband who replies, "umm... no, there's no problem. Please give us some time to freshen up." There's a hum at the door and Yuuji shuts it behind him. He walks up to you as you keep shaking your head. "You know, subtlety is not his strong suit. It'll be fine. Don't worry."

"I'll look like a fish out of water, wearing that in the middle of the servants' rows."

You don't have to sit in the middle of the servants' rows. When Ryo sees you and Yuuji walk out into the yard in your shiny new clothes, he sends Uraume to fetch the two of you close to his makeshift throne. "What are the plans for today?" You ask Uraume as you get as comfortable as possible on the wooden seats.

They huff. "We have the coronation where your mother-in-law will crown Sukuna-sama, who will then appoint the ministers and officially declare Itadori-kun as the Commander of the Kingsguard. Then there's the tourney where the champions from neighboring states have come to compete for a spot on the King of Curses' army. And then there's the feast that will last the rest of the day. You would have known all of that if you didn't lock yourself in your room twenty-four hours a day."

Nothing pleases you more than when they bring in your mother-in-law in a wheelchair, the right side of her body limp from having her tea dosed with high amounts of toxins every day for a year. She can barely speak more than a few syllables without her tongue getting heavy. Your pride bellows in your chest when Ryomen walks down the steps of the dais to get to the center of the yard.

The audience is silent as the beast refuses to bend his knee. The servants help up your mother-in-law, lifting her up on a step as she struggles to hold the crown up in her left hand.

Ryo whispers something you don't hear from afar but you smile when his stepmother is forced to use both her hands to put the crown on his head.

"Aniki is too much at times," Yuuji complains.

"But isn't this so satisfying to watch?"

"That, it is."

The smirk on your face lingers as the proceedings continue. Ryo walks around the yard, naming his ministers even though he just told you the other night that he doesn't need any. He summons Yuji and declares him to be the Commander of the Kingsguard. The crowd doesn't cheer when one brother kneels in front of the other. The crowd doesn't make a peep the whole day; they're there because they don't want to lose their heads or that of their children.

You admire how Ryomen has the whole town under his thumb. The town that wronged you, shunned you and your mother, he's punishing them. You don't know where it is coming from, but there is a sense of accomplishment that you cannot shake off.

He drinks the rest of the day, through the tourney, the declaration of the winner and the evening feast. Every time you see Yuji trying to snatch away his jug from him, Ryo becomes grumpy, demanding his mead be handed back.

To be honest, he doesn't even look drunk. You've seen him inebriated before, in your teenage years. He used to become clumsy and throw things, and curse a lot. But now, he's just... a little grumpy. Maybe his changed physical form has something to do with that.

You're quickly proved wrong. You're talking to some of your colleagues, sitting at the dinner table Uraume assigned to you, when a partially filled jug of ale flies across the room, drenching half the guests. The dinner hall buzzes with commotion, chairs shifting, people questioning, and when you look up toward the direction of the throne, your eyes lock with the King's. He is grumpy because of you.

Only a moment later, Yuuji comes to fetch you. "Aniki is asking for you." His new clothes are flashy, his cloak red like the blood of those he would slay for his brother. He takes your arm in his as he leads you to the throne.

"You wanted to see me, Your Highness?" You bow to the King.

"Yes..h, woman." His words slur. "I am retiring from the party and I wish to dine in my quarters. You will make such arrangements while my brother and I be on our way there."

"Of course, Your Highness."

When you reach the doors of his bedroom, a heavy tray in your hand, you stop to listen in on the conversation between the brothers. "This body was supposed to be a deformity, a curse levied on me for my sins. But I see this as a saturation of strength. What's better than two arms?"

"Four," Yuuji answers. "I agree with you. But I don't understand the mouth on your stomach."

"Actually, this was a gift. It can be used for chanting."

Yuuji hums. "One thing hasn't changed in you. Do you know what that is, Aniki?"

"What?"

"Your massive ego and penchant for showing off." The brothers laugh. "Saturation of strength? Who talks like that?"

You smile as you keep listening. It fills your heart with warmth knowing that the twins have rebuilt their relationship. Still, you can't shake off the feeling of being left behind yet again.

"You're not smoking anymore?"

"No," Ryomen replies. "You assigned me a task, remember? Tobacco and opium might delay or worse, hinder it. Hence—"

Your cheeks start to warm up.

"Alcohol might too," your husband argues. "And yet—"

"Your dinner is here, Your Highness." You put a stop to that conversation as quickly as you can.

Yuuji slides open the door, welcoming you inside. You place the tray on the table in the middle of the room before bowing to the King. Your husband chuckles. "Love, there's nobody around. We don't need to do that here."

He takes your hand and pulls you toward the couch where Ryo is leisurely taking up half the space. Yuuji puts you in his lap, draws you close to his chest as the brothers keep chatting. Your eyes never leave Ryo's. Well, you are not even sure which eyes to follow — the drunk, embarrassed human eyes that fleet between your face and Yuuji's, or the demon eyes frowning at the spot on your arm that Yuuji squeezes every time he adjusts you in his embrace.

The food you brought stays on the table, forgotten and going cold, as the three of you reminisce about your childhood. Yuuji teases you, bringing up how you used to be scared of Ryo when you first arrived at the mansion and still followed him around, touching his arm every now and then, trying to figure him out.

"Shall we get going now?" Yuuji nudges your shoulder with his chin and the demon eyes furrow even further. You nod.

Your husband starts to lead you away when you feel a grip on you, pulling you back. Yuuji turns too when you fall behind. He spots Ryomen's downcast gaze on the spot where the tips of his thumb and first finger meet around your wrist. The shock on Yuuji's face catches your eye but before you can wriggle yourself out of his brother's grasp, he walks back to you and pecks the side of your face. "I'll see you in the morning, my love." And just like that, he is gone.

"You can't be serious." You rebuke Ryomen, yanking your hand away.

"You wanted this." His gaze is still downcast.

You scoff. "Oh, poor Ryomen! It must be so miserable having to fuck a woman. You must have never done that in your whole life."

His eyes flash with frustration. "They were whores."

"And what am I? Asking my husband's brother to fuck me so I can experience motherhood. Am I any different?"

Ryo stands up from the couch and walks toward you, making you take a step back. He's huge now. So much taller and bigger than he was before. You're up against the wall, sandwiched between the wood and his chest. "Ryo, please." You breathe, looking away.

"Do I still scare you, woman?"

You shake your head, refusing to give him the last laugh.

"Even when I look like this?"

Your eyes fly open, meeting his. All four of his eyes are on you, expectant and vulnerable. He needs you. You reach out to touch his face, the human side, and he leans into it like a cat. "Ryo," You call out to him. All your anger melts when he closes all his eyes and relishes in your touch. You place your other hand on his chest, trying to feel the beat of his heart. It's calm, a steady pace. He's at peace in your arms.

"What am I to you?" Ryo asks. For a brief moment, he looks like a boy again, wanting to know if you love him.

"I don't know."

Ryomen smiles wryly before escaping your embrace. He's about to say something but you beat him to it.

"There has not been a single moment in the last five years when you weren't on my mind. I'm cooking and I make it spicier because you prefer it that way. I am sewing and I use your favorite colors. I'm sitting by the pond by myself and I imagine us having a conversation. My husband..." You choke up. "My husband is making love to me and I... I see your face. You... you left me. I played our last conversation over and over in my head, trying to untangle the web of your riddles but I couldn't." You rub off the tears streaming down your face. "You left me here and Yuuji was like my wooden plank in open ocean. I had to... even though it was so wrong... even though —"

Ryo cups your face in two of his hands, pausing your downpour of thoughts. "If I stall any longer, I'll never do it."

Before you can say anything else, his lips find yours. His two lower arms pull you into his body as he kisses you. You knew there will be no tenderness with Ryomen but this passion is abundant and unbound. His big, strong hands squeeze your sides as they run up and down your torso with frenzied lust. You throw your arms around his neck, keeping him close.

He lifts you up in his arms as he keeps kissing you, his mouth hot and demanding, and carries you over to the bed. "Get these off, woman." He pulls at the ties of your top robe. "Jūnihitoe was a bad idea"

You chuckle at his child-like impatience. But can you really blame him? You're itching too to touch him, to have him touch you, claim you. Oh it's so wrong! It's so unfair to Yuuji.

But Yuuji is the last thing on your mind right now.

Robe by robe, layer by layer, you come undone to the lover you thought you were never meant to have. Here he is, undressing you, kissing your lips, your cheeks, your neck, and all you can do is... let him.

You can swear you see his jaws drop open once you're completely naked. "Don't stare," You tease, your cheeks burning. "It's not the first time you're seeing a woman."

"They were whores. You are..." Ryo hesitates. "You are you."

"Wow, you're so efficient at communicating what I mean to you." You smirk.

"Stop being bratty, woman." His human eyes are trying their hardest to intimidate you while the demon eyes are too busy ogling your chest to care.

You lie down and Ryo follows beside you. He cradles your head, his fingers nestling in your hair as he kisses you again. Your deft fingers find their way to the sash of his robe, pulling it apart, immediately navigating their way over his skin, around the inhuman mouth.

"Goodness," You yelp when you feel something wet glide past your hand.

"Oh, it has a mind of its own. I can't really control it." Ryo makes an excuse. "But, it seems as though it likes you."

"That was surely a demonstration of affection."

You both laugh, easing up the tension and unfortunately, the built up desire. Ryomen lies down on his back with you on one of his arms. His robe falls apart, exposing his chest. You extend a hand to touch him. Drawing circles through his scanty hair, you pull yourself closer to him.

Before he can say anything, you put your hand over his mouth, still damp from your kiss. "Can you, for once, put yourself before your brother? For me?"

You sit up, flinging one leg over his hips. Ryo runs his fingers over your thighs as you settle yourself. You take two of his hands and guide them to your chest. "You've grown, woman," he groans.

"What does that mean?"

He sits up, pulling you closer so your forehead touches his. "It means, I've craved your breathy moans, the harshness of your nails on my back, the sweet taste of your sweat on my tongue. I used to watch you walk back to the house after your bath, your chest heaving with every step." He kneads your flesh, making you gasp as he softly tugs at a nipple. "In winters, like an old creep, I used to lecherously stare at the pert points on the front of your robe, imagining my hands over them... and my mouth." He snuggles his nose against your jaw and kisses it before venturing southward. Locking his human eyes with you, he opens his mouth wide and closes his lips around your bud.

His tongue sends jolts of sensation down your spine. You grasp at his hair, pushing your teat further into his mouth. Two of his hands grope the soft flesh of your behind, squeeze the fat on your hips, glide over your thighs, before one of his fingers finds the core of your pleasure.

"So wet, woman," he mumbles against your nipple. "Almost like you've been waiting all your life for me."

"I have." Your eyes water as he draws circles around your clitoris, slow, drawn out, painfully patient circles. "You're such a tease, Ryo. Why don't you just... take me?"

"And what's the fun in that? Let me utilize every moment I have with you." He kisses you again. "What if this is all we have?"

The heart that was warm and gleeful, breaks again. You look into Ryomen's eyes, only to find a mirror that reflects your feelings. This time, you kiss him. Fervently. Maniacally. You push his back to the the bed again, slowly sliding down his torso to meet his lips. What you don't expect is a tongue on your clit, the tongue on Ryo's stomach.

You sit up, perplexed at the onslaught of pleasure but unable to lift yourself off of the demonic mouth. Ryo encourages you. "You look so good like that, woman. That's right, grind your hips against my mouth. Your pleasure gives me pleasure. Are you coming?"

You nod, unable to form words anymore.

"Keep going, woman. You're doing so good. Come for me. Come for me."

This orgasm leaves a permanent mark on your psyche and also on Ryo's abdomen. Your nails have gone as far into his skin as they could, drawing blood.

Without a moment of respite, Ryo flips you over on the bed. Your giggling stops when his strong arm pulls your waist up to put a cushion under it. "You wanted me to take you, didn't you?" He rasps, bending over you, so close that his belly mouth springs out and starts licking your back. "Talk to me. Tell me what you want."

"I want you inside me." You finally voice your lewd thoughts. "I want you to give me a child, Ryo. Even if I have to raise it with Yuuji, I want you and myself to know who the father really is."

"Fuck," Ryomen groans.

You cry out as he pushes in, your delicate skin threatening to break around his girth. As soon as you accommodate yourself to his length, he starts rocking his hips. His grip is strong on the plump flesh of your hips as his nails dig in to keep you in place. You can feel him, throbbing, his fat tip pulsating against your womb, ready to breed you on command.

"You feel so good, woman." He's moaning too. Your name on his lips sounds like exactly how it was supposed to be pronounced when your mother named you. His hands are traveling up and down your back, grabbing, squeezing, groping your flesh. "If you so badly want a child... I'll give you one. More. As. Many. As. You. Want." He thrusts with every word until his grip on you tightens to the point of bruises.

You've lost count of how many orgasms you've had but when Ryo comes, you feel fulfilled. You're so filled with his warmth, you don't realize when you collapse on the bed, when Ryo's hand scoops you close to his chest. "You did good, woman. I'm sure this union will be fruitful," he whispers with his mouth to your forehead as you drift to a well-earned sleep.

𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸

There's no God in my heaven. And Hell belongs to me. King of Curses, they call me. And what I have done to earn that title is between me and the sorcerers I killed. For what, then, am I being rewarded?

My Heaven is in my arms, warm and breathing, probably sore in all the places I touched her tonight. How dare I? How dare I ruin her, maim her unfit to ever love her husband again?

Maybe, if everything had gone right, I would have been her husband. And if my human form was not crippled the same way my brother is, she'd have already become a mother by now. I know of her doubts of being the one crippled, but I know she's fertile. I know she's fertile right now. And I hope I've done one thing in all my life to make her dreams come true.

However, it's also so bittersweet. What will happen once she does bear my child? Our little tea meetings will end, I'll never touch her again, never experience both the peace and the excitement of having her fingers run along my skin.

I don't want this to end. I can't let this end. I can't lose her again.

please don't copy my work, or publish it elsewhere without my consent. all banners are from pinterest.

[okasuka]

Damian wayne x Reader.

tw: abuse, blood. violence, child abuse, alcohol abuse.

Part 1: The Coffee Shop Encounter

The soft hum of chatter filled the air of the cozy little coffee shop on Gotham’s east side. The scent of freshly ground coffee beans lingered in the atmosphere, mingling with faint notes of cinnamon and vanilla. You sat across from Damian Wayne, his sharp green eyes scanning over a book he brought with him. Despite his stoic exterior, there was something about him that made you feel safe—a sense of quiet understanding you rarely experienced.

“You’ve barely touched your drink,” Damian pointed out, his voice calm yet observant as he placed his book down.

You looked at your untouched latte, the heart-shaped foam design slowly dissolving. “Sorry, I was… lost in thought.”

His eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You hesitated. How could you even begin to explain the chaos at home? The constant yelling, the suffocating expectations, the fear that seemed to follow you around like a shadow. Damian, though guarded, had an innate ability to notice when something was wrong.

“It’s nothing,” you finally said, forcing a smile.

His sharp gaze lingered on you, seeing right through the façade. But before he could press further, the ringtone of your phone shattered the peaceful atmosphere.

You froze. You didn’t even need to look at the screen to know who it was. Slowly, you picked up the phone and glanced at the caller ID: Dad.

Damian’s eyes flicked to the phone, his jaw tightening. He knew about your father—at least, the basics. You’d mentioned the tension between you two, though you’d never gone into much detail.

“Are you going to answer it?” he asked quietly, his tone unreadable.

“I have to.” You stood up, the weight of the call already sinking into your chest. “I’ll be right back.”

Damian nodded, though his eyes followed you as you stepped outside.

The cold Gotham air bit at your skin as you swiped to accept the call. “Hi, Dad,” you said cautiously, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Where the hell are you?” his voice boomed on the other end, making you flinch.

“I’m just out with a friend—”

“With that boy, aren’t you?” he interrupted, his tone dripping with disdain.

Your stomach churned. “His name is Damian. We’re just studying, I swear.”

“Studying? Don’t lie to me!” he barked. “You’re wasting your time and my money! I told you to come straight home after school. What’s so important about hanging out with some rich brat anyway?”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “Dad, please, I—”

“Don’t you ‘Dad, please’ me! You have five minutes to get your ass home before I come get you myself, you hear me? Five minutes!”

The line went dead before you could respond.

When you stepped back inside, Damian’s eyes immediately locked onto yours. He didn’t need to ask what happened; your expression said it all.

“Do you need me to come with you?” he asked, standing up.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I… I’ll be fine.”

“Y/N.” His voice softened slightly, and for a brief moment, his hardened demeanor cracked. “You don’t have to face him alone.”

You gave him a small, sad smile. “Thank you, Damian. But it’s better if I do.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he nodded anyway, his hand brushing against yours briefly—a silent promise that he was there if you needed him.

Part 2: The Confrontation at Home

The walk home felt endless, even though it was only a few blocks. Each step dragged as your heart pounded in your chest. The frigid Gotham air was no longer biting; instead, it felt suffocating.

By the time you reached your house, you noticed the front porch light flickering faintly, as if it, too, was worn out by the energy inside. You hesitated on the doorstep, your fingers trembling as you reached for the doorknob.

The moment you stepped inside, the heavy scent of alcohol hit you. It was almost a permanent fixture in the house now, along with the faintly sour smell of sweat and unwashed laundry. You tried to slip into the hallway unnoticed, but the sound of a chair scraping against the kitchen floor froze you in place.

“Y/N!” Your father’s voice roared through the small space.

You turned slowly, already bracing yourself. He stood in the doorway, his frame slouched and disheveled. His bloodshot eyes glared at you, a near-empty bottle of whiskey in his hand.

“You think you can just waltz in here after ignoring me? Huh?” He staggered toward you, his voice thick with anger and liquor.

“I didn’t ignore you,” you said softly, trying to keep your tone even. “I came home as soon as you called.”

“Don’t you dare talk back to me!” he shouted, slamming the bottle onto the counter. The sound echoed, making you flinch. “You were out there with him, weren’t you? That little punk who thinks he’s better than everyone else?”

“He’s just a friend, Dad,” you said, your voice trembling. “We were studying—”

“Studying?” he mocked, his voice dripping with venom. “You think I’m stupid? I see how you look at him. You think he’s going to save you? Fix everything?”

Your chest tightened. “I don’t think that, I just—”

“Just what?” He cut you off, his face inches from yours now. The stench of alcohol on his breath was overwhelming. “You’re nothing without me, you hear me? Nothing! All this…” He gestured wildly around the room. “All this crap I put up with, all the money I spend, and this is how you repay me?”

You stepped back, your heel hitting the edge of the hallway rug. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

His laugh was cold and humorless. “Sorry doesn’t cut it, Y/N. You don’t get it, do you? You don’t have a life outside this house. You don’t get to defy me!”

His hand shot out faster than you could react. The slap echoed through the room, sharp and cruel. Pain radiated across your cheek and eye as you stumbled back, clutching your face.

Tears welled in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of him.

“Go to your room,” he spat, his voice slurring as he turned away and grabbed his bottle again. “And don’t even think about leaving until I say so.”

You didn’t argue. You didn’t even look back. You just bolted up the stairs and into your room, shutting the door behind you and locking it.

Part 3: The Messages

Your room was your only sanctuary, though even here, the sounds of your father’s shouting and stomping reached you. You collapsed onto your bed, clutching your phone like a lifeline. Without thinking, you opened the messages with Damian.

Y/N: I’m home.

Damian: What happened?

Y/N: It’s fine. I just need to cool off.

Damian: Don’t lie to me. What did he do?

You hesitated, staring at the screen. Your hands trembled as you typed.

Y/N: We argued. It’s nothing new.

Damian: Y/N.

Y/N: He hit me.

The moment you sent it, you wanted to take it back. You didn’t want Damian to know, didn’t want him to look at you differently. But his response came almost instantly.

Damian: I’m coming over.

Your heart raced.

Y/N: No! You can’t. He’ll freak out if he sees you.

Damian: He won’t see me.

Part 4: Damian’s Arrival

The hours dragged on as the house fell into a tense silence. From your window, you could see the faint glow of streetlights and hear the distant hum of traffic. Inside, though, the quiet was suffocating. Your father had likely passed out on the couch, the bottle still in his hand. You didn’t dare leave your room to check.

Your phone vibrated in your hand.

Damian: I’m here. Open your window.

Your breath hitched. You scrambled to the window, peeking out into the darkness. Sure enough, there he was—perched on the low-hanging branch of the oak tree just outside. He wore his usual black hoodie and dark jeans, blending into the shadows like the trained assassin he was.

You unlocked the window and pushed it open. “Damian, you shouldn’t—”

“Shh.” He climbed inside with practiced ease, landing silently on your carpet. His piercing green eyes scanned your face, narrowing when he saw the faint bruise forming around your eye.

His expression darkened, a mix of anger and something deeper—something protective. He stepped closer, his hands hovering near your face but not touching. “He did this to you.” It wasn’t a question.

You nodded, unable to meet his gaze.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. His jaw clenched, and you could see the internal battle raging behind his eyes. You knew Damian—he was used to solving problems with action, with force. But this wasn’t a fight he could jump into.

“You shouldn’t have come,” you whispered, breaking the silence.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, his voice softer than usual. “I wasn’t going to leave you here alone after that.”

“I didn’t want to drag you into this,” you admitted, sitting down on the edge of your bed. Your hands fidgeted in your lap. “It’s not your problem.”

He crouched in front of you, his eyes leveling with yours. “It is my problem if someone’s hurting you.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and before you could stop yourself, the tears you’d been holding back all night started to fall.

“I’m so tired, Damian,” you choked out, your voice breaking. “I can’t do this anymore. He’s always yelling, always drinking, always… hitting. And no matter what I do, it’s never enough for him. I just—”

You couldn’t finish. Your sobs took over, and you buried your face in your hands.

Without a word, Damian moved to sit beside you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. You clung to him like a lifeline, your tears soaking into his hoodie.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice steady and soothing. “You don’t have to face this alone anymore.”

His words felt like a balm on your shattered heart. For once, you didn’t feel completely alone.

Part 5: The Quiet Comfort

Damian stayed silent for a long time, letting you cry until your sobs turned into soft sniffles. His hand moved gently along your back, a quiet reassurance that he was there.

“I want you to come with me,” he said finally, breaking the silence.

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t want you staying here with him,” he said firmly. “You don’t deserve this. You can stay at the manor.”

You shook your head, the thought overwhelming. “Damian, I can’t just leave. He’s my dad. What if—”

“What if he hurts you worse next time?” Damian interrupted, his voice sharp but not unkind. “You think he’ll stop? You think he’ll change?”

You swallowed hard, unable to answer. Deep down, you knew he was right.

“I’ll talk to Bruce,” Damian continued, his tone softening. “We’ll figure something out. You don’t have to go back to this—not ever.”

The idea was tempting, but the fear of what your father would do if he found out paralyzed you. “What if he comes after me?”

“He won’t,” Damian said simply. There was an edge to his voice now, a quiet promise that sent a chill down your spine. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Part 6: A Night of Peace

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the heater kicking in. Damian’s arms remained around you, solid and reassuring. You leaned into his chest, your body still trembling slightly from the adrenaline and fear. For a moment, the world outside seemed distant, muffled by his steady presence.

“I don’t know if I can leave,” you whispered, breaking the silence.

Damian tilted his head to look at you, his sharp green eyes softened with understanding. “You’re scared. I get that. But staying here won’t help you, Y/N. It’ll only get worse.”

You looked away, your gaze drifting toward the faint crack in the wall above your desk. That crack had been there for years, a silent reminder of one of your father’s drunken outbursts. “What if leaving makes him angrier? What if he… tries to find me? I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

“He won’t get near you,” Damian said, his voice low and resolute. “I’ll make sure of it.”

The certainty in his words made your chest tighten. It wasn’t just empty reassurance—this was Damian Wayne. The son of Batman. Someone who wouldn’t hesitate to do whatever it took to protect you.

“You’re not alone in this,” he continued, his hand resting gently on your arm. “You don’t have to carry this by yourself anymore.”

The weight of his words broke through your defenses. Slowly, you nodded. “Okay. I… I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” he said, his voice softening.

Damian stayed close for the rest of the night. The tension that had gripped you all day began to ease, replaced by the quiet comfort of his presence. You sat together on your bed, talking about anything and everything to distract yourself—the books he’d been reading, the latest Wayne Enterprises scandal, even some of the more bizarre cases he’d helped his father with as Robin.

“You really fought a guy dressed as a giant condiment bottle?” you asked, your eyebrows raised in disbelief.

Damian gave you a rare smile, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Unfortunately, yes. Condiment King. He’s… not exactly the brightest of Gotham’s criminals.”

The laugh that bubbled out of you felt foreign, almost strange after the night you’d had. But Damian seemed to notice, his smile growing slightly.

“There it is,” he said quietly.

“What?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Your smile.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked down at your hands. “It’s… been a while.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. “You deserve to smile more, Y/N. To laugh. To feel safe.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart ache. You didn’t know what you’d done to deserve someone like Damian in your life, but in that moment, you were endlessly grateful for him.

Part 7: The Plan

As the night stretched on, you leaned against Damian’s shoulder, exhaustion finally catching up to you. His presence was like a shield, keeping the fear and pain at bay.

“Get some rest,” he murmured, his hand lightly brushing against your hair.

You hesitated. “What about you? You can’t stay here all night. If my dad wakes up—”

“He won’t,” Damian said firmly. “And even if he does, he won’t touch you. I promise.”

His confidence was unwavering, but you still worried. “What if he sees you leave?”

“I’ve snuck into far more secure places than this,” he said with a faint smirk. “He won’t see me.”

You nodded, finally giving in. “Okay.”

As you settled into bed, Damian stayed seated on the edge, his watchful eyes scanning the room like a sentry. Even as your eyelids grew heavy, you felt his presence grounding you, keeping the darkness at bay.

The next morning, Damian was gone, but the weight of his words lingered. You stared at your phone, reading over the last text he’d sent before leaving.

. Part 8: Breaking the Cycle

The sunlight creeping through your curtains felt out of place. The house was eerily quiet, the usual sounds of your father stomping around or slamming doors absent. You sat up in bed, clutching your phone like a lifeline. Damian’s words from the night before replayed in your mind:

“You’re not alone, Y/N. Call me when you’re ready.”

But were you ready? The thought of leaving terrified you, even if staying was worse. You hesitated before opening your door, tiptoeing into the hallway. The living room reeked of stale alcohol and cigarettes, but your father was nowhere in sight. The empty bottle on the coffee table told you everything you needed to know—he was likely passed out in his bedroom.

Your fingers itched to text Damian, but doubt crept in. Was leaving really the answer? What if things got worse? What if your father came after you?

Later That Morning

By midday, the silence was broken. Your father’s door slammed open, and his heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway. You froze in the kitchen, clutching the counter as he appeared in the doorway, looking worse than usual—his hair unkempt, his face pale and splotchy.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay in your room?” he growled, his voice rough from last night’s whiskey.

“I-I just came down to make breakfast,” you stammered, avoiding his gaze.

He sneered, stumbling closer. “Breakfast? You think I care about breakfast? You think you can do whatever you want now, huh? Just because you’re playing friends with that little rich boy?”

Your stomach churned. “It’s not like that. We were studying—”

“Don’t lie to me!” he snapped, his hand slamming against the counter beside you. You flinched, taking a step back. “You think you’re better than me? You think you can just walk out of here whenever you feel like it?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” you said, your voice cracking.

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought he was going to hit you again. But instead, he pointed toward the stairs. “Get out of my sight. Now.”

You practically ran to your room, slamming the door shut and locking it. Your breathing was ragged, tears threatening to spill as you grabbed your phone and opened your messages with Damian.

Y/N: I can’t do this anymore. I want to leave.

His response came almost instantly.

Damian: I’ll be there in 20 minutes. Pack a bag.

Your hands trembled as you read the text. Was this really happening? Could you really leave? You shoved the doubts aside and grabbed a backpack, stuffing it with clothes, your phone charger, and a few essentials. As you zipped it up, the weight of what you were about to do hit you like a freight train.

Part 9: The Escape

Exactly twenty minutes later, there was a soft tap at your window. You turned to see Damian crouched on the branch, his hood pulled low over his face. He motioned for you to open the window.

You slid it up quietly, your heart pounding as he climbed inside. His green eyes immediately scanned the room before landing on you. “Are you ready?”

You nodded, gripping the strap of your backpack tightly. “Yeah.”

Damian’s gaze softened as he stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You’re doing the right thing.”

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” he said gently. “But you don’t have to be. I’m here, and I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You swallowed hard, nodding again. Damian led you to the window, pausing to glance over his shoulder. “Is he still here?”

“He’s downstairs,” you whispered. “Probably passed out again.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

Climbing out the window was harder than you expected, but Damian guided you, his steady presence giving you the courage to keep going. Once you were both on the ground, he grabbed your hand and led you through the backyard and into the alley behind your house.

A sleek black car was parked at the end of the alley, its engine idling softly. Damian opened the passenger door for you, and you slipped inside. The interior smelled faintly of leather and pine, a stark contrast to the chaos you’d just left behind.

As Damian slid into the driver’s seat and pulled away, a wave of relief washed over you. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a glimmer of hope.

Part 10: The Manor

The drive to Wayne Manor was quiet. Damian kept glancing at you from the corner of his eye, but he didn’t push you to talk. The hum of the car’s engine and the city fading into the distance were the only sounds accompanying your thoughts.

Wayne Manor came into view after a few turns up a winding road. The massive estate loomed against the gray Gotham skyline, a combination of imposing and strangely comforting. Damian pulled into the private driveway, the iron gates closing behind the car automatically.

As he parked, he turned to you. “You’re safe now. No one will hurt you here.”

You nodded, clutching the strap of your bag tightly as you stepped out of the car. The enormity of the mansion made you hesitate, but Damian was already at your side, his hand resting lightly on your back to guide you.

The front doors opened before you reached them, revealing Alfred Pennyworth, the family butler. His calm, discerning gaze immediately fell on you, and a faint smile touched his lips.

“Master Damian, I take it this is our guest?” Alfred asked, his tone warm yet professional.

“Yes,” Damian said, his voice firm but gentle. “Y/N is staying here for a while.”

Alfred nodded, stepping aside to let you in. “Welcome to Wayne Manor, Miss Y/N. Please, make yourself at home.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Inside the Manor

The interior of the manor was even more overwhelming than the exterior. High ceilings, ornate chandeliers, and a grand staircase made the space feel almost unreal. You followed Damian silently, your nerves twisting as he led you to a smaller sitting room.

“You should rest,” he said, motioning to the plush couch. “I’ll grab Alfred and get you something to eat.”

You sat down tentatively, the soft cushions swallowing you. “Damian… what if my dad comes looking for me?”

“He won’t find you here,” Damian said confidently. “And even if he does, he’ll regret it.”

There was a hardness in his voice that made you shiver. You believed him, though. If anyone could protect you, it was Damian.

A few minutes later, Alfred returned with a tray of tea and sandwiches. “You must be exhausted,” he said, setting the tray down in front of you. “Master Damian has informed me of your situation. Rest assured, you are quite safe here.”

“Thank you,” you said again, your voice cracking slightly.

As you sipped the tea, Damian sat beside you, his presence a quiet reassurance.

“Bruce will want to meet you,” he said after a moment.

“Your dad?” you asked, suddenly nervous. “I don’t want to cause any trouble…”

“You won’t,” Damian said firmly. “He’ll understand. And he’ll help. Trust me.”

You nodded, though the thought of meeting Bruce Wayne—a man as intimidating as the manor itself—made your stomach twist.

Part 11: Meeting Bruce

An hour later, Damian led you to Bruce’s study. Your heart raced as he knocked once and pushed the door open.

Bruce Wayne sat at his desk, his sharp blue eyes lifting from a stack of papers as you entered. He was every bit as imposing as you’d imagined, his presence commanding the room. But there was something about his expression—a mix of concern and understanding—that made you feel slightly less nervous.

“Y/N,” Bruce said, rising from his chair and extending a hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

You shook his hand tentatively, glancing at Damian for reassurance.

“Damian told me everything,” Bruce said, his voice steady but gentle. “You don’t have to worry. You’re safe here, and we’ll do whatever we can to help you.”

The kindness in his tone caught you off guard, and you felt your eyes welling up again. “Thank you. I… I didn’t know where else to go.”

“You made the right choice,” Bruce said. “No one deserves to live in fear. We’ll make sure your father doesn’t hurt you again.”

His words carried a weight of finality, as if they were a promise etched in stone.

Part 12: A New Beginning

That night, Damian showed you to one of the many guest rooms. It was bigger than your entire bedroom back home, with soft lighting and a bed that looked like it belonged in a five-star hotel.

As you unpacked your bag, Damian leaned against the doorway, watching you quietly.

“You okay?” he asked after a moment.

You turned to him, offering a small smile. “Better. Thank you, Damian. For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said, stepping into the room. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

You sat on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but… it feels good to breathe again. To not feel trapped.”

Damian sat beside you, his hand resting lightly on yours. “One step at a time. You’ll get through this. And I’ll be here, no matter what.”

For the first time in a long while, you felt a flicker of hope. You weren’t alone anymore, and for now, that was enough.

Part 13: Settling In

The next few days passed in a blur. You stayed in the guest room, adjusting to the quiet luxury of Wayne Manor. It felt strange—having peace, space, and no yelling. Every time the silence stretched too long, you found yourself holding your breath, waiting for a shout or a crash that never came.

Damian stayed close. He had a way of hovering without being overbearing, his presence a constant reassurance. Alfred brought you meals and always checked in with a kind smile. Even Bruce stopped by once or twice, offering updates about what steps he was taking to ensure your safety.

One Morning in the Manor

Damian knocked softly on your door before stepping inside. “How are you feeling today?”

You looked up from the book you’d been pretending to read, offering a small smile. “Better, I think. Still… weird.”

“Weird?” he echoed, sitting down on the armchair across from you.

“Quiet,” you admitted. “I keep expecting something bad to happen. It’s like my brain doesn’t know how to relax.”

He nodded, understanding in his sharp green eyes. “It’ll take time. You’ve spent years in survival mode. You can’t unlearn that overnight.”

The thought made your chest tighten. “What if I never do? What if I’m always stuck like this?”

“You won’t be,” Damian said firmly. “You’re stronger than you think, Y/N. And you have people who care about you now. You’re not doing this alone.”

His words brought a lump to your throat, but you managed to nod. “Thanks, Damian. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You won’t have to find out,” he said, his voice soft but unwavering.

Part 14: A New Routine

As the days turned into weeks, you started to settle into a new rhythm. Alfred’s calm presence became a source of comfort, and Bruce’s quiet support reassured you that you weren’t a burden.

Damian was your constant, though. He had a way of knowing when you needed space and when you needed him close. He took you on walks around the expansive grounds, introduced you to the family’s collection of exotic pets, and even convinced you to join him in the training room one afternoon.

In the Training Room

“Hold your stance,” Damian instructed, his voice calm but firm.

You adjusted your footing, feeling awkward as you held up your fists. “Like this?”

“Better,” he said, circling around you to adjust your posture. “Remember, it’s about balance. You’re not trying to overpower someone; you’re trying to outmaneuver them.”

You exhaled sharply, trying to focus. “I feel ridiculous.”

“You look fine,” Damian said with a smirk. “Better than most people do on their first try.”

“Are you actually giving me a compliment?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t get used to it,” he said, his smirk widening slightly.

The playful banter lightened the mood, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a spark of confidence.

Part 15: Confronting the Past

One evening, as you sat in the living room scrolling through your phone, Bruce walked in. He carried a folder in his hand, his expression serious but not unkind.

“Y/N,” he said, sitting across from you. “I’ve been looking into your father.”

Your stomach tightened. “What did you find?”

Bruce hesitated, his eyes softening. “He has a record—multiple DUIs, reports of domestic disturbances. Nothing that ever led to serious consequences, unfortunately. But it’s enough to build a case.”

You swallowed hard, your hands trembling slightly. “What does that mean? Will he… go to jail?”

“That depends,” Bruce said carefully. “You’d have to be willing to give a statement. To tell your story.”

The thought made your chest ache. The idea of standing up to your father, of reliving everything in front of strangers, was terrifying.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” Bruce added. “But if you want to take legal action, we’ll support you every step of the way.”

You nodded slowly, your mind racing. “I’ll… think about it.”

That night, you sat on the balcony outside your room, staring at the stars. Damian joined you a few minutes later, sitting silently beside you.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he asked.

You nodded. “I just… I don’t know if I can do it. What if it doesn’t work? What if he gets away with it?”

“He won’t,” Damian said firmly. “Not with Bruce involved. And not with me.”

The conviction in his voice made you feel braver than you had in a long time. “I’m scared, Damian.”

“I know,” he said, his hand brushing against yours. “But you’re not alone. Whatever you decide, I’ll be right here.”

You leaned against his shoulder, the warmth of his presence grounding you. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he murmured. “Just let me help you.”

Part 16: Taking the First Step

The decision lingered in your mind for days, every thought leading back to the idea of facing your father and exposing the years of abuse. The idea terrified you, but Damian’s unwavering presence gave you strength.

One morning, as you sat in the sunlit dining room picking at a plate of scrambled eggs Alfred had prepared, Bruce walked in. He gave you a small nod before sitting across from you, placing a phone and a folder on the table.

“I have someone you should talk to,” Bruce said gently.

Your heart skipped. “Who?”

“A social worker. Her name is Ellen Grayson. She specializes in helping people in situations like yours—people ready to take action but unsure where to start.”

Damian, who had been leaning against the wall nearby, stepped forward. “She’s good at what she does,” he added. “And she’s someone we trust.”

You hesitated, your fork hovering above your plate. “What… what would I have to do?”

Bruce’s voice was calm and measured. “Talk to her. Tell her your story. She’ll help you decide what steps to take next. You don’t have to commit to anything right away.”

Your chest felt tight, but you nodded. “Okay. I’ll talk to her.”

Meeting Ellen

That afternoon, Damian sat beside you in one of the manor’s private offices as Bruce called Ellen on speakerphone. Her voice was warm and calm, her tone immediately putting you at ease.

“Y/N, I want you to know that you’re very brave for even considering this,” Ellen said. “I know it’s not easy to talk about what you’ve been through, but if you’re ready, I’d like to hear your story.”

Damian’s hand rested lightly on your knee, a silent reminder that he was there. You took a deep breath and began to speak, your words halting at first but gaining momentum as you recounted the years of fear, the yelling, the drinking, and the blows you’d endured.

By the time you finished, your voice was shaking, and tears blurred your vision. Ellen’s voice came through the speaker, steady and supportive.

“Thank you for sharing that with me, Y/N,” she said. “You’ve been through so much, but I want you to know you’re not alone. We can take this one step at a time, and we’ll make sure you’re safe.”

After the call ended, Damian handed you a glass of water, his green eyes searching your face. “You okay?”

You nodded, though your hands still trembled. “It feels… weird. Like I finally let it out, but now I don’t know what comes next.”

“What comes next is up to you,” Bruce said gently. “But we’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Part 17: Filing the Report

The next step was filing a formal police report. Ellen arranged for a detective she trusted to handle your case, someone who specialized in domestic abuse. Bruce and Damian both insisted on coming with you for support.

At the GCPD

The police station was intimidating, its gray walls and harsh lighting making your stomach churn. Damian walked close beside you, his presence a steadying force.

Detective Renee Montoya greeted you with a kind smile, leading you to a quiet room away from the chaos of the main floor. “Take your time,” she said, sliding a notebook and pen across the table. “There’s no rush.”

You hesitated, staring at the blank page. The idea of putting everything into writing made your chest tighten, but Damian gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“You’ve got this,” he said softly.

With a shaky breath, you began to write.

By the time you finished, hours had passed, and your hand ached from gripping the pen so tightly. Montoya skimmed over the report, nodding as she read.

“This is a solid start,” she said. “We’ll move forward with an investigation, but I want you to know this might take some time. If you feel unsafe at any point, call me immediately.”

You nodded, your exhaustion overwhelming. “Thank you.”

Montoya smiled. “You’re brave, Y/N. Don’t forget that.”

Part 18: A Night of Reflection

That night, back at the manor, you sat on the balcony outside your room, staring at the Gotham skyline. The weight of everything you’d done settled on your shoulders—telling your story, filing the report, taking the first real steps toward freedom.

Damian joined you, a quiet presence at your side. He didn’t say anything at first, letting the silence stretch comfortably between you.

“Do you think I did the right thing?” you asked finally.

He looked at you, his green eyes steady. “I know you did. You’re taking control of your life, Y/N. That’s never the wrong choice.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“You didn’t have to,” he said, his voice soft. “And you never will.”

As the night stretched on, the stars above seeming brighter than usual, you felt a strange sense of peace. For the first time in years, you weren’t just surviving—you were beginning to live.

Part 19: A Moment of Closeness

After the long day, exhaustion weighed on you, but you couldn’t sleep. The quiet of the manor wasn’t threatening, but it gave you too much time to think. Your mind replayed the conversation with Ellen, the time at the police station, and the memories you’d unearthed. The ache in your chest felt unbearable.

Sighing, you grabbed your phone and sent Damian a quick text.

Y/N: Are you awake?

It took less than a minute for his reply to come through.

Damian: I am now. What’s wrong?

You hesitated, not wanting to seem needy, but the thought of being alone with your spiraling thoughts was worse.

Y/N: Can you come to my room?

A soft knock came moments later. When you opened the door, Damian stood there in a loose T-shirt and sweatpants, his hair slightly tousled as if he’d been lying down. His eyes searched yours, and without saying a word, he stepped inside.

“You’re overthinking again,” he said softly, shutting the door behind him.

You shrugged, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “It’s hard not to. Everything feels so… heavy.”

Damian crouched in front of you, resting his hands lightly on your knees. “You don’t have to carry it alone.”

“I know,” you murmured, looking down at where his hands touched you. “But sometimes it feels like I’ll never be free of it.”

“You will,” he said firmly. “It’s going to take time, but I promise you, you’ll get there.”

The conviction in his voice made your throat tighten. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He froze for a split second, then relaxed into the embrace, his arms sliding around your waist.

An Intimate Moment

Damian pulled you closer, his hands warm and steady on your back. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his faint, clean scent. For the first time that day, the weight in your chest seemed to ease.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

“I just… I don’t know how to stop feeling like this,” you admitted, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his green eyes intense but gentle. “Then let me help you.”

His thumb brushed a stray tear from your cheek, the touch so tender it made your heart ache. “You’re safe here, Y/N. With me, with Bruce, with Alfred. No one is going to hurt you again.”

You nodded, though your tears continued to fall. “I just feel so broken sometimes.”

“You’re not broken,” he said quietly, his voice firm but kind. “You’re hurt, but you’re healing. And that takes strength.”

The sincerity in his tone made your breath catch. “How are you always this sure of everything?”

“I’m not,” he admitted, a small, self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. “But when it comes to you, I am.”

The vulnerability in his words made your heart race. You hesitated for a moment, then leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his. His eyes fluttered closed, his breath brushing your lips as the space between you seemed to disappear.

The First Kiss

The moment lingered, the air around you thick with unspoken emotions. You weren’t sure who moved first, but your lips met his in a tentative, gentle kiss. Damian’s hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you close as the kiss deepened, his touch warm and grounding.

When you finally pulled back, your cheeks flushed, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath unsteady.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, your heart pounding. “Me too.”

Part 20: In Each Other’s Arms

Later that night, Damian stayed with you, his presence a comforting weight beside you. You lay curled against him, your head resting on his chest as his fingers traced idle patterns on your arm.

“You should sleep,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

“I’m afraid of the nightmares,” you admitted.

“You’re not alone,” he said, his hand brushing over your hair. “If you wake up, I’ll be here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear slowly lulled you into a sense of calm. For the first time in as long as you could remember, you felt safe—truly, undeniably safe.

And as sleep finally claimed you, Damian’s arms wrapped around you, holding you close as if he could shield you from the rest of the world.

Part 21: Facing the Past Together

The days following your intimate moment with Damian felt different. The bond between you had deepened in a way neither of you had expected, and while the vulnerability that had surfaced between you both still lingered in the air, there was a certain warmth now whenever you were together.

Damian continued to be your rock, always present, always steady. The manor had become more than just a refuge; it was a place where you were slowly rebuilding—reclaiming pieces of yourself that had been lost. Yet, the weight of your past still haunted you.

Late Afternoon in the Manor

It was a quiet afternoon when Bruce came to find you in the library. He had his usual calm demeanor, but there was an edge of urgency in his voice that caught your attention.

“Y/N, we’ve heard back from the investigation team,” he said, standing at the doorway, holding a folder.

Your stomach tightened. “And?”

Bruce looked at you, his expression unreadable. “We have enough evidence now to pursue a restraining order, and we’re beginning to build the case for possible charges against your father. But… there’s more to discuss.”

Your heart raced. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but the weight of Bruce’s words made your mind spin. Damian was right beside you now, his presence like a grounding force.

“What else?” you asked, trying to steady your breathing.

Bruce paused for a moment before continuing. “Your father’s been informed that we’re involved. He might take more aggressive actions in response. We need to be prepared for that.”

Damian’s jaw clenched, his hand subtly brushing yours as he stood closer. “We’re ready for whatever he throws at us,” he said, his voice low but resolute.

Bruce nodded, offering you a comforting look. “We’ll be taking additional measures to keep you safe, Y/N. You won’t have to face him alone anymore.”

You swallowed, the weight of everything hitting you all at once. “Thank you, Bruce. I don’t know what I’d do without you all.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. You’re family now,” Bruce said, his voice steady and reassuring.

Part 22: The Moment of Truth

The next day, the investigation took a more active turn. Detective Montoya contacted you directly, informing you that your father was aware of the charges against him. He was, predictably, furious.

“You need to stay alert,” Montoya told you over the phone. “We’re taking steps to protect you, but it’s crucial that you avoid contact with him for now. If he shows up at the manor or anywhere near you—call me immediately.”

Damian, overhearing the conversation, moved closer to you. “You’ll be okay,” he said softly, though you could see the tension in his features.

You nodded, feeling the deep knot in your stomach tighten. “I know… I just don’t feel okay, though. What if he tries something—what if he comes after me?”

Damian took your hand gently in his, squeezing it. “He won’t get past me.”

That evening, after the conversation with Montoya, Bruce came to see you in your room. His expression was calm, but you could tell he was thinking through the strategy.

“We’re putting in place additional security,” Bruce said. “Damian will stay with you at all times for now. We’ll have someone monitoring your father’s movements, but we’ll also be here to keep an eye on things. You don’t have to carry this burden alone.”

You looked at Damian, his presence both comforting and intense. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

He nodded. “You don’t have to say anything. I’ll be right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Part 23: A Quiet Evening

Later that night, after dinner, the two of you found yourselves once again on the balcony, the cool night air drifting around you. The stars above felt endless, much like the road ahead.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted, staring at the horizon.

Damian sat next to you, his shoulder brushing against yours as he looked out at the dark sky. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

You turned to him, studying his face, noticing the lines of worry etched on his brow despite his calm demeanor. “I don’t know how to ask for help,” you confessed. “I’ve never really had anyone I could rely on before.”

He met your gaze, his eyes filled with a quiet understanding. “You have me now. And I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re a burden. You’re not.”

Your heart swelled at his words, but it was hard to ignore the emotions that still felt tangled in your chest. “I’m scared, Damian.”

“I know,” he replied, his hand reaching for yours. “But fear doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means you’re still fighting.”

You turned your palm up, your fingers intertwining with his. For a moment, the weight of everything you’d been through—the fear, the pain—seemed to dissipate as his warmth wrapped around you.

Damian leaned in, his forehead touching yours. “You don’t need to carry the world on your shoulders, Y/N. I’m here. You’ll never be alone in this.”

The depth in his eyes, the sincerity in his voice, made the last bit of doubt fade away. You leaned into him, resting your head against his chest, letting the steady beat of his heart reassure you.

Part 24: In His Arms

As the night grew darker, you stayed there, together, in each other’s company. Damian’s arms wrapped around you, his presence both a shield and a comfort. You felt his fingers trace slow circles on your back, the rhythm soothing as you closed your eyes and let yourself relax for the first time in days.

“I need you to know something,” Damian said quietly, his voice soft in the night air.

You looked up at him, the words you’d wanted to say in the back of your mind finally finding their way to your lips. “What is it?”

“I care about you, Y/N. More than I can explain.” His gaze softened as he spoke, his hand gently cupping your face. “And I’m not going anywhere. No matter what happens next.”

You swallowed hard, feeling your chest tighten with emotion. “I care about you, too.”

The intensity in his eyes deepened, and without another word, his lips found yours. It was soft at first, tender—an unspoken promise that all the pain, all the fear, would eventually fade. For now, you were here together, and that was enough.

Part 25: A Moment Interrupted

The night had grown deeper, and the soft glow from the stars outside illuminated the quiet balcony. You and Damian had been talking—about everything and nothing. The conversation had drifted from your past to your hopes for the future, from your fears to the small moments of peace you’d found together. It was one of those rare times when the world felt still, and for a brief moment, you could forget about everything else.

Damian’s fingers traced small patterns on your wrist, his touch gentle, thoughtful. There was an unspoken tension between you two, something that had been building over the past few days. Every glance, every word, felt more loaded than the last.

Without realizing it, you found yourself leaning closer to him, your heartbeat quickening with each passing second. Damian’s eyes flickered to your lips, then back up to your eyes, as if silently asking for permission.

You didn’t hesitate. Closing the gap between you, you kissed him softly, your lips brushing against his in a gentle, almost tentative touch.

His hand cupped your face, his thumb lightly grazing your cheek as the kiss deepened. The warmth between you both surged, the tension of the past few days melting away as his lips moved against yours, slow and tender. It was everything you’d wanted, everything you’d needed—a quiet moment where nothing else mattered but the two of you.

His other hand slid around your waist, pulling you closer, your bodies aligning as you lost yourself in the kiss. The night air seemed to disappear, leaving only the sensation of his touch, the soft rhythm of your breathing, the shared warmth that made you feel safe.

But then, just as you were completely lost in the moment, a voice rang out from the door, breaking through the bubble of intimacy.

“Well, well, well…” Bruce’s amused voice echoed in the hallway.

Both you and Damian immediately jumped apart, the suddenness of the interruption making your heart race in embarrassment. You scrambled for words, but none came.

Bruce was standing in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame with a knowing smile on his face. His eyes twinkled with amusement as he surveyed the scene, clearly entertained by your flustered reactions.

Damian’s face was flushed, his usual composure faltering as he shifted uncomfortably. “Bruce, we—uh, we didn’t hear you.”

You couldn’t stop the heat from flooding your face. You had barely kissed him, but the interruption made it feel like you’d done something much more. “Sorry,” you mumbled, not meeting Bruce’s eyes.

Bruce chuckled, stepping further into the room. “Don’t worry, kids. It’s not like I’ve never had this happen before.” He waved a hand dismissively, clearly unbothered. “Just don’t get carried away. And, Damian…”

Damian straightened, his embarrassment quickly turning into a defensive stance. “What?”

“Just make sure she stays safe, alright?” Bruce said with a small, almost affectionate grin. “I trust you both, but I’m sure we can all agree that you two don’t need any more distractions.”

Damian gave a sharp nod. “Of course.”

Bruce’s smile softened. “Good. Now, get some rest. We have a lot to handle tomorrow.” He turned to leave, but then paused and glanced back at the two of you.

“I’m happy for you both,” he added, his voice quieter. “But remember, there’s still work to do.”

With that, Bruce left, the door clicking shut behind him.

For a long moment, neither you nor Damian spoke. The air was thick with the awkwardness of the situation, and both of you avoided looking at each other, the weight of Bruce’s words hanging between you.

Finally, Damian broke the silence, his voice almost shy. “Well, that was… unexpected.”

You let out a small laugh, still feeling your cheeks burning. “I feel like we’ve just been caught doing something we didn’t even do.”

Damian smirked, his hand finding yours again, the tension from earlier quickly dissolving into something more familiar. “We didn’t,” he said simply. “But we’re definitely going to have to be careful around Bruce from now on.”

You chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, I think I’ll avoid making eye contact with him for a while.”

Damian gave you a small, teasing smile, leaning in close again, but this time, he didn’t kiss you. Instead, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

“Are you still nervous?” he asked quietly.

You smiled softly, meeting his gaze. “A little, but not as much as I was before.”

“Good,” he said, his voice low and comforting. “You should be able to relax around me.”

“I do,” you whispered, your heart fluttering in your chest.

And for that moment, everything felt perfectly, blissfully right.

[handweavers]

How do you deal with being mistreated by family? Even knowing the reasoning behind it hurts so much, especially when I know there's nothing I can do to change how I'm treated. I love my family but they cause me so much pain. I don't know how to handle it.

it depends. are you financially dependent on them? do you see them all the time, live with them? do they expect things from you? is it a parent, or a cousin, or an uncle, etc? how much can you withdraw from them, both physically and emotionally? if they will not change and you are in great pain, then you have to decide what is within your power to change and whether you are able/willing to lay down those boundaries or withdraw, or find some peace within yourself in order to navigate this without crushing you.

i have had to go no contact with my father for over a year, multiple times. when i am speaking with him i have rules and boundaries: i will only talk to him when he is not drinking, so either he has to call me in the morning or if he calls me at night he can't be audibly drunk, and i can tell. if he is drunk i refuse to answer or i end the call. if he raises his voice at me or insults me i hang up immediately; if we are in person and he does it, i immediately leave and do not return unless he apologizes.

i have had these rules in place for many years and he knows them, and he knows what happens when he breaks them - i exit his life, and he does not want that, and so he usually decides to follow my rules. when he breaks them, he knows what he did wrong and what he has to do to repair it. if he does something i cannot forgive or he will not apologize for, i cut him off until i decide enough time has passed that i feel okay trying to talk to him again, or until he decides to apologize. but i am not financially dependent on him and never have been, and he has never been my primary caregiver, so i understand that affords me some degree of freedom of choice that others may not have. some people never apologize, or follow your rules, and then you must decide if this is worth the pain. you do not deserve to beg for scraps, and you do not have to do that to receive affection. there are many people in this world who would treat you kindly, and you do not have to be their family for them to do it.

other family members i do not cut off, but they also have never hurt me as much as he has. i do not see most of my surviving family regularly because we live in different countries, and those who live near me i don't see often either. some straight up don't give a fuck about me even if i care about them, don't make time for me and don't have any interest in my life, and so i must make my peace with that somehow. i cannot make people love me, let alone love me the way i deserve to be loved, and so the only thing i can do is learn to accept that. others i know care very much about me but have their issues, and i cannot force them to change either, and so i extend an olive branch and compassion and hope they take it. i cannot force them to love me either, only let them know that i love them and things don't have to be this way.

people have their own things they're working through (or not working through) and their own narratives they're playing out in their heads. all i can do is try my best and if it does not work then that is how it goes. i can't change them, so i adjust my expectations and accept that their behaviour is not about me. i try to practice emotional withdrawal in these situations, and accept that they are living in a world that i cannot enter - a gap that is unbreachable. but there are other people who will love us and let us love them, and we can find and nurture those relationships. we can hope that perhaps some day our family members will change their minds so we can love them too, but we must find a way to accept that that may never happen and make peace with it. that's all we can do.

[moriitis]

What would Toby do with a person with Lyra's exact appearance? Let's say they also have a similar personality. (Of course there would be no comparison)

I don't know how Toby would take it or what he would do and I'm really curious, seriously, I'm crazy.

WHY DO YOU GIVE ME ALL THESE SAD ASS ASKS OH MY GOD MY SHAYYYLAAA

Alright, I seriously fucking love this ask though, like so, so, so much. Thank you Anon for breaking my heart. I, too, am crazy about Toby and Lyra's relationship.

Content/Warnings; car accidents, mentions of abuse, alcohol, death, detailed descriptions of corpses, blood, brain matter, globe luxation (eyes popping out of sockets), vomit, bruises, stuttering, murder.

I guess to start this shit off, we better go back in time a little to talk about their relationship as siblings during the time Lyra was alive.

Their parents were deadbeat. I'll say it over and over again. Now don't get me wrong, Connie hated seeing her children living in poverty and being abused by their father, but you gotta remember Connie was a victim too. Abusive relationships SUCK and it's even worse when there are children involved because it makes it so much harder leaving. Did Connie allow the abuse to happen? On some times, yes, she did - because a part of her really believed that she loved this man, she wanted things to work and kids were.. well, they deserve a little slap here and again, right? I see a bitterness between Lyra and Connie because Lyra gets so angry at the fact that Connie sits and allows this to happen. Now when big fights did break out, like punching, screaming, things smashing and the cops being called, Connie did step in and try to calm her husband. Unfortunately, her husband was a heavy drinker and his father abused him, so drinking is his coping method to deal with his own abuse and trauma.

Due to having such an absent and useless mother, Lyra stood up and took the role to care for Toby at the young age. In fact, when Connie announced she were pregnant with Toby, Lyra cried so much because she knew how shit their family life was and it was unfair to bring a baby up in a situation they get no say in.

Lyra would dress Toby for school, make breakfast and ensured they both got the school bus on time. (During the time he still attended public schooling.)

She would 100% defend him in situations at school the best she could. Lyra wasn't particularly popular either, so really she took most the verbal abuse directed toward her brother.

After Toby got pulled for home schooling, she'd always feel so disgustingly anxious being on that school bus alone - without him.

She'd call the home phone almost every hour making sure he was okay.

Thankfully their father worked at a factory during the day, so she knew Toby was okay with their Mom who was a stay at home.

Despite everything, she was a bubbly and happy character, mostly because as she got older she got more freedom to stay away from home.

Lyra was a bit of a party animal, very social and had a nice group of friends.

She would not come back home for times on end, preferring to sleep on the couch at a friends just to avoid home.

But then she felt too guilty leaving Toby alone and would come back.

On the weekends, Lyra would take Toby with her to hang out with her friends! Her friends loved Toby, despite his tics.

They'd hang out at the mall a lot, which actually secured Lyra her first little job working in a clothing store her friend also worked at.

Which meant she earnt money to spoil Toby.

Like taking him to the arcades, bowling.

They went to the cinema once, which was a bad mistake because they came home too late and their father was still awake.

"Lyra.. are yo-oo..u awake?" Called a soft voice, a voice that lingered by the frame of her door. The light from the hallway illuminated the figure, casting shadows over her body that was outstretched on her bed. It was a familiar voice, a voice that made her turn almost instantly to glance over at the little brunette who was lingering by the door, his fingers hooked around the wood. Her door was only open a fraction but softly it pushed open a little, allowing more light to enter her dark room. She sat up, her fingers caressing the bare mattress below her as she forced a welcoming smile. It wasn't that she was unhappy or annoyed by Toby's presence, of course not - it was just the ache in her head that almost pulsated around her skull as she sat up.

"Hey you, no, I'm actually asleep," she teased softly, stifling her chuckle as she pulled her knees up close to her chest. It was always so cold in this house.

"Oh, should I go?" Toby replied much softer than before, already pulling away from the doorframe and descending back into the hallway.

Lyra rolled her eyes and scrunched up her brows. "Go?" she repeated, tilting her head to the side a little. The pain vibrated around her head, squeezing her skull and holding her brain captive. The pain was only temporary. "What's wrong?" she asked after a beat, wanting to capture his attention before he disappeared quietly down the creaky hall. Silence loomed over the two of them as Toby glanced back at Lyra, his brows twisted in concern as his fingers fiddled with the hem of his shirt anxiously.

"Did he-he-h... he hh-hurt you bad?" Toby finally spoke, those words so harsh despite the innocence in his voice. His words weighed heavy, so heavy even that her shoulders dropped a little at the question. Toby shouldn't have seen that, admittedly it was her fault for bringing them home so late.

So, with a little scoff, she shook her head softly although instinctively, her hand raised against the little bump on her head. It had stopped bleeding, thankfully, but the cut and bruise still felt fresh and raw. "No," she sounded convincing. "See? I'm fine." Lyra lied through her teeth, no, she wasn't fine.

Toby wasn't convinced and before he spoke, a grunt coming from their parents room frightened him closer toward Lyra's bed. She outstretched her arms out toward him a little, accepting him and acting as a barrier for any of his worries and fears. "He's asleep," Lyra reassured him and herself, her voice nothing but a whisper and Toby quietly climbed onto her bed. When did Toby get so big? A lump in her throat formed just looking at him.

His brown eyes darted toward her outstretched arms and he hesitated before slowly leaning his body against her own. It wasn't a proper hug, oh dear, no, Toby was too big for those now apparently but Lyra was satisfied to have him close to her regardless. Only if it were nothing but a shoulder.

-

Now, obviously we are aware that Lyra died in a car crash and I just HC that she reason she swerved and crashed into that tree was because she saw Slender on the road and it startled her so much. Toby always thought that it were a deer or something she tried to avoid - he knew how much she loved her animals.

-

"So, anyway, I told Abby that Jason was obviously just going after her because its Jason, he goes after everyone in school! But Abby didn't believe me and now she's all upset and mad at everyone but not Jason for breaking her heart?" Lyra groaned, hands gripped securely around the steering wheel as she vented away to her younger brother who sat behind her in the passenger seat. He was always a good listener and Lyra secretly knew he loved hearing all this gossip. For a brief moment, she glanced at the rear view mirror to Toby. He was exceptionally quiet today, arms crossed over his chest as he gazed aimlessly out the window. Her lips pursed at the sight, curiosity at what could possibly be plaguing her brother's mind? "Hey, you listening?" she asked, shooting occasional glances between the road and the brunette in the back.

Toby's brows furrowed for a moment, almost in irritation before his gaze softened upon connecting with Lyra. It wasn't often her looked at her in such a way and she raised a brow slightly, watching as closely as she could while also focusing on the road ahead.

The road ahead was quiet, no traffic, just them and the forest that surrounded them. The faint mumble of the radio, Lyra's music of course - Paramore more notably playing.

"Yeah," Toby choked out slowly, clearing his throat and shuffling in his seat as he tried to rearrange his thoughts and remember what Lyra was even blabbering about prior. She knew he were lying though and narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, although she were just teasing.

"Liar," she pointed an index finger up at him before chuckling a short chuckle. Toby's lip curled a little at the corner but other than that, he remained quiet. Lyra knew Toby wasn't himself, not anymore, sure he was getting older and moodier - but his mental health played a lot into that too.

"I'm ssorry, j-just thinking about th-"

"What the fuck?!"

The smell of gas burned within his nostrils as he awoke to nothing but a fuzzy haze. Whatever the fuck happened, he wasn't sure, but now the car was flipped upside down. He blinked once, twice, trying to make sense of things as he glanced up. His blood coated the interior roof of the car, shit he must've cut his head up pretty bad - thankfully he couldn't feel shit though. The radio was still playing, filling the silence as the indicators ticked and the car groaned with each move Toby made.

"You are the only exception, you are the only exception~" the radio continued to play Paramore and sat atop the roof was Lyra's IPod that was still connected.

"Lyra-" Toby grumbled groggily as he went to reach out to the tuffs of blonde that poked out from beside the airbag. His seatbelt, still secured, restricted him and he fought against it for a moment as his main focus was on his sister. "Lyra, speak to me-" he grumbled through gritted teeth as his hands helplessly began to find the buckle of his belt, clicking it out and dropping him down onto the roof of the car with a loud thud. He could feel the air thickening around him as he tried to navigate around the carnage, upside down to help his sister. His heart was beating a million beats per second as he army crawled as close as he could to Lyra, the whole bonnet of the car practically enveloping a tree in a cold, metallic hug.

"Lyra," he repeated through gritted teeth, holding his breath at the thought of being alone out here in a wrecked car, his anxiety clawing at his very skin as he slowly craned his head around to the drivers seat. "Please talk to me, please-" he begged softly, hand reaching out slowly to brush a tuff of her blonde hair away from her face.

Lyra remained motionless, unresponsive and Toby hoped and begged and prayed to any God that perhaps she was just unconscious. "Wake up, Lyra, come on- you have to wake up now-" he began, his shaky hand making its way to her shoulder to shake her softly. The sister was limp and only moved softly from his violent shaking.

Her head was pressed against the airbag, her blood crimson red compared to the white of the bag. He could hear the insane amount of blood gushing from her and onto the pedals below her which made him almost heave. With one final push on her shoulder, her head fell toward his direction and her blonde hair fell down from her face, exposing the horror before him.

Her face, her beautiful face, untouched one side and her skull caved in on the other. The brain matter that ran down her face, her eye that was almost bulging out from her socket. The inside of her skull was empty, the rest of her brain had slipped out and fallen down her shoulder and torso. Her mouth hung agape, her other intact eye half lidded but her iris still enlarged in the shock she endured before the crash. Her torso was also caved in but her ribs poked out through her skin, exposing her vital organs through her blood soaked, cotton tank top.

Toby could only scream as he scrambled back into the passenger seat, desperately trying to get away from his sister. His hands grabbed helplessly at anything that could push him further away from Lyra, his fingers grazing the glass beneath him and slicing his skin open. His screaming was interrupted by the sudden urge to vomit as he clamped a hand over his mouth in a desperate attempt to stop the flow of acid, although it were already spewing past his blood fingertips. Choking and spluttering on the warmth of his vomit, he hacked up and spat out the rest of the taste that remained in his mouth before clutching a handful of his clothing within the fist of his hand.

"No, no, no, please, Lyra, no-" he sobbed helplessly against hitched breaths, trying to make sense of this nightmare. That perhaps this wasn't real, it couldn't be because how could he live without her? So, slowly, plucking up any courage he could find, he crept back toward Lyra and gently caressed her cheek. She was still warm. "Stop messing, Lyra, you can- you can- can- can get up now! Wake up! Wake the fuck up!" he was yelling at the corpse, shaking her violently before collapsing onto her lap. He didn't care about the blood nor brain, he wanted her to hug him again.

Toby cried into her lap, taking her arm and forcing it around him as he cuddled her corpse. Laying there for hours until a passer-by came across them.

-

Alright, you guys have the feels?! Now, back to the ask. After this traumatic event, how would Toby feeling seeing someone that looked like Lyra? And, oof, punch in the gut, this person also having the exact same personality? Yikes.

At first, he wouldn't believe it. He would either think its an hallucination or that he's dreaming because he knows that she is dead, shit, he saw it himself. Honestly, at first I think he'd be a little angry because it's like all that grief and trauma came and just slapped him right there and then.

He'd accuse this person and lash out, saying things like. "You think this is funny?!" "What are you doing?!" Just really bitter and mean, mostly a mechanism to try and cope really. He'll think this is a whole ploy to try and trick him or something.

There'd also be a part of him that really craves being embraced by this person too, like he wants to caress their cheek and touch their hair. Like he genuinely cannot believe that this is real.

Then once that anger has simmered down, he'd bite back the tears. Stepping away and going nonverbal, disappearing for a couple months to try and 'forget.' He'd cry like a little bitch too, calling himself stupid for leaving in the first place.

Then he'd come back, either really dissociated or really attached to this person. He'd crave their attention, despite it being so bittersweet and he'll be angry if this person says something that Lyra wouldn't say, you know?

NOW

If we are talking about a VICTIM HE WAS SUPPOSED TO KILL LOOKING LIKE LYRA- shit, that's a different story.

At first he'd hesitated, the hatchet motionless above his head, mid-swing as she stares down at the girl before him. Crying, sobbing and he would literally stop working. He wouldn't know what to do, he would freeze and just stand there staring at her in disbelief. Then he'd drop the hatchet with a loud clutter and fall to his knees before the girl, his shoulders and body shaking as muffled sobs begin to emerge from him.

This girl, who nearly just fucking died, could do two things. Knock him the fuck out or comfort him thinking that maybe it would spare her life. I think depending on what she does, if she were to comfort him, Toby would probably either push her away or embrace her touch and cry into her lap. If she were to attempt to knock him out, I think it would stir him a little back to life and he'd quickly just jump into action in an attempt to control himself and the situation.

Now obviously, he will NOT murder her. No, he couldn't - so he grabs his things and leave. Which is so, so, so bad and could get him into so much shit with Slender but I think in that moment, he doesn't care.

[leviathanspain]

fucked my way up to the top

roman roy x reader

synopsis: the recent shroud of attention towards the roys lands a spotlight on you, causing you to question your marriage

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

the public didn’t favor you as a roy wife. you were labeled a gold digger, virtually nobody, a poison, a cancer. it didn’t matter that your own family was rich and prosperous. not as public as the roy family was, but respected in their industry.

you had grown up with roman, for a few brief summers at least. neighboring his summer home with your grandfather’s, you’d find yourself sneaking away at odd hours to visit the sullen boy.

after losing touch, you had reconnected with the youngest roy son at a business conference that you had accompanied your father to. he was impossible to shake off after, and soon you found yourself walking down the aisle.

but your relationship behind closed doors was extremely unconventional. in the year you’ve been married to roman, you never had sex. you came close once, on your wedding night, but nothing else since. you understood him the most, and his issues with intimacy. you’d wait around for him as long as he needed, because you loved him.

you loved him more than anyone else in his life, and he didn’t know why.

roman was still roman, in the best way he knew how to be. he’ll make inappropriate comments at you in professional settings, defending it with “she’s my wife!”, or sticking his hands down your pants whenever he got cold. you never really understood his methods, but it was affection nonetheless.

although you had a history with corporate america, you wouldn’t deny that your marriage to roman had sped up your career. only because roman has insisted that you work alongside him. it was either that or not work at all.

so the media, in the raging shit storm that kendall had started, had picked you and your marriage as the weakest link, attacking you in many headlines. twitter had been worse, causing you a mild headache for weeks.

roman had assured you’d that it would all blow over, that as long as you both knew the truth, that nothing else mattered.

but it did. everything mattered.

“hey ro-“ he had answered your call before the second ring. he sounded breathless, but you could hear the bustling office environment over the phone. there was the sound of leather, assuming he moved to sit.

you looked at yourself in the mirror, giving yourself one last look before walking over to the door, “i just wanted to call and remind you that i’m going out.”

roman made a noise over the phone, “ughhhh- that’s tonight?” he looked at his watch, checking the time, “right. that’s fine, yeah.”

“ro?” you asked, a smile on your face as you heard him hum in response. “i wasn’t asking if it was fine. remember what we talked about?”

roman sighed, rolling his eyes slightly as he leaned back in his chair, “that you’re my wife, not my property…”

you laughed, “when you put it like that it sounds awful. whatever roy, i’ll see you later.” he could hear the clicking of the apartment lock, you were already leaving.

“okay, bye bye now sweetie!” he mocked an elderly lady with his tone before hanging up quickly.

on nights you’d go out with friends, roman wouldn’t go home. he would eventually find his way home around two or three am, but only because you’d call to let him know you were going home. there was no point of being home if you weren’t there.

he had done it once, but there had been a pit in his stomach the entire time. as if he was doing something wrong.

he had heard the apartment door click, and his head turned from the random late night news channel to the door. you were standing there, wavering slightly as you stepped forward.

“baby-“ you slurred, and immediately roman stood up. he walked towards you, and a sheet of concern washed over his face. “i’m sorry baby, i know how much you hate it when i drink.” you grabbed onto roman’s shoulder, hand clutching him as you tried to steady yourself.

roman scoffed, “when did i say that?” his tone turned defensive, but mainly confused.

you shrugged, “i know you do.” you let go of him and stepped towards the couch, “you get in that mood.” you had meant to sit down, but you found yourself on your back instead. you closed your eyes, swallowing thickly, “you pull away.” roman scoffed again, “y/n, im right here.” his hand grazed your face as he leaned over you. he rested on the couch’s edge, but you couldn’t keep your eyes on him.

“no- it’s not like that. everytime i want to,” you faltered, and roman inhaled sharply, “it’s like you shut down. and we’ve danced around it for almost a year and-“ your words slurred slightly but roman had understood you perfectly.

“what do you want me to say? hmm? that i don’t want to fuck you?” he got off the couch and stood up, “do you want a divorce? is that it? since we didn’t fuck you can probably get a good deal out of that, you should go fucking try it!” roman didn’t know where this anger was coming from, but he felt it come out like word vomit. and he couldn’t stop.

tears escaped your eyes and you sniffled, feeling your face heat up with embarrassment. “no- i don’t want a divorce, roman.” you shook your head as you cried, wishing the couch could swallow you up.

roman continued to spit more words at you, but you cried harder. “i just want my husband to touch me! i want to be desired- to be loved!” you shouted, words overtaking his.

“i want you every minute of every day. i wake up with you on my mind, even when you’re asleep next to me i want you. i fucking want you, so bad.” his voice dropped and he stared down at you.

you shifted your eyes over to him, and tried to stand up. roman noticed what you were doing and took your hand, pulling you up.

“have me, roman. have me and never let me go.” your arms draped around his neck, pulling him into you. you leaned into him, and kissed him roughly. roman felt himself hitch a breath before pulling away.

“i cant.” your hands dropped from his collar and you stared, speechless. “i want to, y/n. but i-“

you pushed past him, not letting him finish as you tried to stumble towards the door. “you’re a fucking coward.” you slurred, tears muddling your vision. you fumbled for the door handle, “i never want to see you again! you hear me! i hate you!” you stomped a foot as you struggled more for the door. “fuck!” you cried out, feeling defeat and heartbreak wash over you in an instant.

this feeling was crippling. closing your eyes as you slid down in defeat. you couldn’t fight anymore, you didn’t have it in you. your husband didn’t stay to linger, slipping away quietly.

the separation was taking its toll. it was starting to get noticeable to those around you. you had wished for space from roman, who had hesitated but obliged. his only request was that his family doesn’t know, and so far, they hadn’t.

but little things, questions regarding the other had raised a few flags. kendall had asked about you once, bringing up the question to roman on your whereabouts. roman had lied and said he had just seen you in your office, but kendall knew you weren’t even in the building. or when shiv had texted you to ask if you’d be joining the family to scotland, but you had to play off your absence with a separate work trip. when in reality you had no idea that roman would even leave the country.

shiv knew something was off. she was finding roman more intolerable by the day. he was more disheveled, prone to outbursts, constantly on the defensive, and it definitely had to do with you. you were his happy little pill.

as much as you wanted to keep the secret, roman made it difficult. he rarely ever saw you anymore, and he would often exclude you from meetings regarding family or work. you didn’t mind at first, until it started affecting your work. you’d have to talk to him about it, eventually.

logan had called for a meeting in his office. usually big meetings with all of the roys and close workers meant bad things. typically you’d stay out of these things and find out from roman. but you had no roman to come home to anymore, and you’d have to learn how to fight for yourself sooner rather than later.

you were the third one to arrive. kendall was already perched beside his father. you admired kendall for his ability to resurrect himself and crawl back under his father’s thumb. you respected him, but not lately. greg and tom were also in the room. their little duo was dangerous, you’ve warned roman to watch out for them.

“y/n!” tom stood up from his seat, awkwardly hugging you. you stiffened in his arms and pulled back with an awkward smile, “tom. didn’t know we did that!” your eyes slid to logan and kendall, who seemed as equally as surprised by your presence.

“sir.” you looked at your father-in-law, who’s eyes shone at you, “y/n. what a delightful surprise.” he kept his tone even, but you still smiled nonetheless.

kendall had his wits about him, for once. “what changed?” he squinted his eyes at you and you laughed slightly, “it’s nice to see you too, ken.”

just as you turned, you heard a whistle at the door, “where is everyone? you said at 11:30 right?” roman looked down at his watch before looking up, eyes settling on your face.

you hadn’t expected to see him so face to face, for the first time in weeks. he looked away slightly, cracking another irrelevant joke before walking over to a chair.

he didn’t even greet you, and that didn’t go unnoticed by everyone else. more and more flooded in, and you couldn’t stop the pounding feeling in your head even as the conversation began.

“roman!”

logan’s shout had broken you out of your daze. you blinked, eyes narrowing on the clock as you realized thirty minutes had passed. you had missed most of the meeting, and seemingly caught the end. but this wasn’t just any end, this was logan handing your husband his own ass.

you listened to roman get chewed out. you weren’t in the loop to roman’s work, and you felt lost.

logan’s insults turned into abuse. you felt your mouth go dry as you stood up, words spilling out of your mouth in roman’s defense.

you didn’t know what you had done until it was done. you were locked in a stare with logan, who was in disbelief at your outburst. you felt you face heat up and you inhaled sharply. logan didn’t say anything, but kendall had waved his hands, “alright. let’s just- end it here.” he shifted his gaze over to you but you didn’t meet his eyes.

roman stared at you, from across the room in his chair. you blinked, words faltering as you stared at him.

you didn’t bother apologizing as you excused yourself, practically running down the hall to shut yourself away.

there was a soft knock at your door. roman. it had to be roman. you felt your chest heavy with pressure as you stood up, walking over to your door. you unlocked it, but hesitated as you pulled it open.

“yes?” you peeked out, beads of sweat lining your forehead. your eyes met his and roman stared at you, “let me in.” he nodded to the door and you hitched a breath, opening the door as you stepped back.

“ro-“ without another word you threw yourself into his arms. he grabbed you tightly, reciprocating your need for affection.

“i’m so sorry.” you choked out, “i’m so fucking sorry.” you knew logan had a difficult relationship with his son, and this didn’t help any of it. logan must hate you now.

roman shook his head, “fuck that. fuck that old ass guy. it’s okay, you-“ he pulled back and you felt his lips on your cheek, “you know i would’ve done that for you.”

you hugged him tightly, and hoped this warmth would last.