#and i want everything to go the way it should have gone

[rawme-price]

So, reader described her ideal guy as a spitting image of ghost without realizing, right?

Well one day while ur out shopping you see the most drop-dead gorgeous guy ever. He's everything you want. Tall, beefy, soft blonde curls atop his head and dark chocolate eyes. You can see just the hint of a tattoo sleeve where his arm cuffs have rolled up, and what looks like a fair few facial scars under the black surgical mask.

Ur about to go up and flirt like ur life depends on it, already planning where you'll take him to eat, when he ducks around a corner. You follow, just a bit dazed by the way his thigh muscles shift beneath his jeans. Except, hes fucking gone??? Like. No where to be seen.

You mourn the loss of ur perfect guy for weeks, regaling soap and gaz about ur white whale in gym. "No, im serious! He was like an angel sent from God, you should have seen him!" Ur explaining desperately, trying to emphasize just how hot this guy's was.

"Soft puppy dog eyes and biceps that could smother a man! I didnt see a ring, dude I have to have him." Gaz seems mildly amused, nodding along. "Plus, get this, I saw him buy my favourite brand of protein bars! If that isnt a sign then what is??"

While you continue to rant and rave, ghost whos overlooking some newbies sparring pointedly does not look in ur direction. The heated flush crawling up his back cant be seen, and thank god for that. He's been blushing everytime he looks at you ever since you saw him in the grocery store and muttered "holy shit hes hot", thinking he wouldnt hear.

[spearofheaven]

⋆˚࿔ TILL YOU TELL ME TO LEAVE — situationship! toji fushiguro

SUM. you went out on a date tonight. but toji’s planning to stay until you tell him to go.

CONTAINS. 18+ content, MDNI. x fem! reader. 1.3k words. infidelity (ish). reader + toji have sex while she’s on the phone. unprotected p in v. doggy. ass slapping (once). use of pet names. kinda jealous toji (he’s in denial). reader needs to stand up probably.

A/N. congratulations to the lovely pepper (@prosypepper) on 2k! 😽 thank you for hosting!

toji fushiguro was not a jealous man.

he didn’t have anything to get jealous about—you weren’t his and he wasn’t yours.

and yet all he found himself thinking about when he was pounding you from behind, your nails digging into your sheets below and your cunt gushing and squeezing around his cock like a vice was the fact that you'd dressed up for someone earlier tonight. if he tried hard enough, he could still smell the extravagant scent of the man's axe spray clinging onto your skin.

someone more put together than him, though. that he was sure of. someone that didn't come after the sun had set, leaving before he got too comfortable being around you. before he got used to feeling of your arms clinging onto him in the middle of the night, reaching out just as he's standing up.

even your sweet moans echoing through the room weren't enough to break him out of his thoughts. "so, how'd your little date go?"

you swore your heart nearly dropped to your ass, your grip on the sheets just a little bit tighter. a low sigh left your lips as you turned around to face toji. but before you had the chance to say anything,

bzzt. bzzt. bzzt.

you were planning on ignoring the incessant buzzing on your night stand. maybe text back a half assed apology and say that you were busy. but that wasn't good enough for toji.

of course it wasn't.

"come on, answer it, doll. you have better manners than this," he tutted, passing it over to you. leaving no room to object.

you gave him a glare, biting back whatever retort was on your tongue before reluctantly turning to face your phone again. toji didn't miss that you'd saved the contact under the man's name and (hinge) right next to it. you answered the call at the last ring before it went to voicemail, "hello?"

"hello?" toji mocked right in your ear, fingers rubbing on your clit. if only to get you to slip—to say his name to the man who took you out tonight. casual be damned.

"h-hey!" your date spoke up, almost like he wasn't expecting for you to actually answer the call. "sorry if i'm being a bit forward here, i just wanted to know that you got home safe. i had a lot of fun with you tonight."

"i had a lot of fun too, t-thanks for the dinner," your breath hitched when toji angled his hips, hitting your g-spot with every thrust. the way you gushed and dripped around his cock almost had him convinced you were into this.

toji supposed he got the answer to his question from earlier.

he leaned in, pressing his lips against the side of your neck. biting down hard enough to leave a mark behind, a yelp leaving your lips. you smacked the side of his arm, but he was unmoving. simply soothing the sting on your neck with his tongue.

"are you okay?" the man on the other line suddenly asked, everything else having gone quiet. listening into whatever he could.

"yeah, no, i'm good. just bumped my toe against the side of the table," you responded after a couple seconds, hoping he wouldn't see through your lie.

and the man behind you almost seemed to relish in this. "maybe you should turn the camera on, ma. show him justtt how you like being fucked," toji whispered in your other ear, his fingers drawing torturous circles around your swollen lil' clit.

you could hear your date speaking on the phone, talking about the menu of all things. you could only uh-huh so much before another moan left you again. so you spoke up, "actually, do you mind if i call you tomorrow? i'm kind of busy right now."

you didn't wait to hear his answer, hanging up within seconds.

toji tutted his tongue yet again, staring at you with faux disappointment. barely managing to keep his lips from twitching into a teasing grin, "you didn't have to be so rude, doll. he was so excited to talk to you."

"oh, shove it fushiguro."

"with pleasure, baby." he shoved his cock back inside in a single thrust, knocking out the air out of your lungs. fucking you how he'd been wanting to (and barely resisting) throughout the phone call.

"o-oh fuck!" a loud whine left your lips, his hips snapping against your ass harshly. you buried your head further into the pillow, each muffle and whine muffled.

"could your date fuck you like this, baby?" toji questioned, his hands coming to grip your hips. gripping them like he purposely wanted to indent his fingers onto your skin. leave something of his clinging onto your body. you didn't answer—you both already knew the answer.

"tell me or i'll stop," he warned, cock twitching inside of you as he slowed down. you shook your head, raising it from the pillow before mumbling, "no, no, he couldn't."

one large hand smacked against the plushness of your ass, the fat jiggling under the impact. "louder, i can't hear you." you turned around to spot that same cocky grin on his face, a glare forming on your face.

"no. i said that no, he couldn't fuck me like you do," you relented, letting out a satisfied moan when he sped up again. his balls twacked! twacked! twacked! against your wet cunt, his fingers rubbing your clit in quick circles. you clenched around him tighter like you wanted to milk him dry, his cock sliding in and out of you like a waterpark with how soaked you were.

"gonna cum, keep going, please," you babbled, feeling that pressure building in your lower tummy. your walls constricted against his cock in a rhythmic motion, his own thrusts starting to grow rushed and sloppy.

"not gonna stop, cum all over my dick." your release washed over you with a loud moan, your head falling slack. toji fucked you through your orgasm into his own, following soon after and painting your walls white.

he stayed still for a couple seconds, letting himself catch his breath before pulling out of your twitching pussy. toji leaned in, jaw slack as he sucked the mixture of fluids out of your cunt. cleaning you up with his tongue before swiping a moist rag over your folds.

you knew what was coming next. toji didn't hesitate to grab his clothes off the floor with superhuman speed, pulling them over his body like every second he spent here outside of sex was akin to torture.

"you don't have to leave." you turned to look over at him, slipping your night shirt over your head. "i won't make something big of it, i know we're just sleeping together. so don't worry about me getting my hopes up or anything."

toji couldn't give you anything other than this simple, no strings (or so he thought) attached situation, but he always knew that you deserved more than him. so, he could give you a night. he settled beside you, pulling the blankets up.

toji fushiguro was like a stray dog. enjoying the comforts of domesticity and the feeling of having a temporary home, but only staying around for whatever scraps he could receive before he went out on his way again.

but he decided to stay. he'd be staying as you let him into the comfort of your presence, even if he doesn't give much in return. all he does is worry you senseless, coming to your apartment half bloody at times and gasping for breath. he's aware.

but he'd be staying in your bed and underneath your warm blankets until you finally told him to leave, that you never wanted to see him again.

[catchastarorten]

—“Come back alive”

Pairing: Hwang Jun-ho x eventuallover!fem!reader

Summary: he never told you how he really felt about you, believing you deserved more than a man consumed with finding his brother and that island. But now, with the island gone, he returned home to you, and did what he should’ve done a long time ago—truly be with you.

Content: very brief mentions of s3 events, happy endings for you and Jun-ho, childhood best friends to lovers, Jun-ho having emotional conflict, kisses, a little angsty(?), fast-paced, English isn't my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: ~ 1.1k

You were his everything long before he ever admitted it to himself.

Jun-ho always knew that. Knew that since you were kids, voices hoarse from screaming each other’s names across the playground.

You two had grown up together, attached at the hip. Kids who met on a rainy schoolyard and never let go. He scraped his knees, and you were the one who washed the blood away. You got your heart broken in middle school, and he showed up with a small boquet he made with flowers he picked and told you that anyone who didn’t love you was a damn idiot.

As time passed by, the world changed—got colder—but you didn’t. Or maybe you did, in the same way he did. But you still looked at him like he mattered when he didn’t even feel real to himself anymore.

When In-ho disappeared, it was like the whole city turned to grey static. People offered "sorry"s, a few helped at first, but you—you stayed. You looked through police reports with him, stayed up late when he looked through footage frame by frame, and asked anyone you thought had a chance of knowing In-ho.

You never once asked him to stop. Never once told him to move on like everyone else did. You just looked at him with that patient grief in your eyes that mirrored his, and it made something hurt deep in his ribs, something too full to name.

There were nights when he wanted to say it. You’d be sitting on his couch with cups of cheap convenience store coffee, exhaustion hanging between you, and he’d look at your face—tired, steady—and want to say, I love you.

But how could he? How could he look you in the eye and ask for your heart when his was still buried under the weight of his missing brother? When he still woke up cold in the middle of the night from that dream? The cliff, the gunshot, the ocean.

He thought if he really said it, if he really let himself have you—you'd feel like a placeholder. Like comfort he ran to because his brother was gone.

And you deserved so much more than being second to his grief.

He was terrified. That loving you meant dragging you into his shadows. That you’d smile that soft smile of yours and nod, but never really feel like you meant enough to him. Because how could you be, if he hadn’t made peace with himself yet?

But he never stopped thinking about it. About you. About the things he didn't say.

And maybe you knew. Maybe that’s why you never said anything either. You never pushed. Never asked. But you were there. You were always there. You waited.

—

The night before Jun-ho left for the island again, he stood outside your apartment for five full minutes, just staring at the door. He thought about turning around. About leaving without seeing you. Maybe it would hurt less that way.

But when you opened the door—like you already knew he was coming—he forgot all of that.

You didn’t ask why he was there. You just let him in.

He stood there in your tiny living room, his eyes didn’t meet yours right away. “...I'm leaving tomorrow.”

You swallowed, your hand tightening slightly on the edge of your sleeve. But you were calm. “So you came to say goodbye.”

He hated the sound of that word in your mouth. Goodbye. It wasn’t supposed to sound so final.

“I came because I didn’t want to leave without seeing you.”

That’s when you reached for him.

A hand to his chest first, gentle and warm. Then your other hand cradled the side of his face, thumb brushing over his cheekbone like you were checking to see if he was real. Your eyes flicked to his lips for just a second.

That was all it took.

You kissed him.

Slow.

Soft.

He froze.

Not because he didn’t want it—but because he did, he wanted you ever since he was fifteen and you tackled him during a stupid pillow fight. But because he was afraid. Afraid that this would be the only kiss he would ever share with you. Afraid that he might never get the chance to have you in his arms again if he left today.

But you didn't kiss like that. You kissed him like you knew there would be more. Like you were certain he'd come back.

Then he melted.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him. He kissed you back as his chest pressed against yours, and it felt like home.

When you pulled away, your forehead rested against his.

“Come back alive,” you whispered.

He didn’t answer for a second. He just held you. Closed his eyes and imagined your life together—quiet kisses in soft-lit rooms, laughter over dinners, long nights where the only war was deciding what movie to watch.

“I will,” he finally said, and he hated how much his voice wavered.

—

The next day, he was gone with Woo-seok and the team

He could still feel the touch of your kiss. He leaned against the boat, eyes scanning the horizon, but all he saw was your face.

He thought about you the whole time they drifted on the ocean, trying to find the island. He thought about your laugh. He thought about how you never told him not to go. You just asked him to survive.

And he tried. When everyone on the boat nearly died from a betrayal. When he got the confrontation he wanted with In-ho, moments before the island exploded.

And he came back for you.

—

The second he saw you again, standing in that same doorway, he dropped everything and wrapped his arms around you.

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to.

Your fingers curled into his back like you were afraid to let go. His lips found your shoulder, your temple, your cheek, then finally your lips.

And this time, it wasn’t slow. It wasn’t hesitant. It was years of ache and longing and quiet waiting that finally let loose.

He pulled back only once, to whisper the words he’d carried for so long.

“I love you.”

You smiled, voice breaking, but eyes steady. “I know.”

He was home.

[wcnderlnds]

back for you ★ hwang jun-ho

・❥・ summary: now that junho is free from the memories that had plagued him for so long, he's ready to start his life over with you. unfortunately, his brother inho has a habit of trying to ruining that for him. ・❥・word count: 2.1k ・❥・warnings: 18+, mdni. fingering in an elevator, swearing. established relationship. SQUID GAME S3 SPOILERS, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. ・❥・authors note: i swear to you this wasn't meant to be smut but i have a lot of junho feelings. im also bad at writing kids so... i'm so sorry in advance for how bad this might be.

Those first few weeks after Junho had finally found the island only to not get the closure from his brother that he had been craving had been eye opening for him. For so long, he had been focused on finding his brother, getting the answers to the questions that had plagued him for years. It had consumed his life, took over every single thing he did but now? Now, he knew he was never going to know and maybe that was okay. He had done his part, he had tried his best. There was nothing more he could do but move on with his life. So, that’s what he did.

It hadn’t been easy at first, it had taken a lot of time for him to find his new purpose but he had you to help him along the way. Being in a relationship with Junho over the last few years hadn’t been easy but through every single thing, you had stuck by him. That had meant more to him than he could even put into words. A future with you – that was his purpose now. You had been together for about five years. Junho had never wanted to commit fully knowing that he couldn’t give himself to you one hundred percent but now he could. That was why two months after everything had happened with the island, he got down on one knee and proposed to you.

Being your fiance was the greatest honour of his life. It was so freeing knowing that he could finally give himself to you so completely, finally.

“I really liked the red velvet one but the strawberry one was so nice, too,” you said excitedly. The two of you walked hand in hand down the street back to your apartment. Wedding planning was in full swing and today you’d been out cake tasting. It had been yours and Junho’s favourite part of the whole planning process so far. Who wouldn’t love sitting down and trying different cakes for an hour?

“I liked the strawberry one, too. Maybe we should book another tasting just to be sure,” he grinned, wrapping his arm around your shoulder instead to pull you into his side. You immediately wrapped your arm around his waist, looking up at him with a smile.

“I like the way you think, Hwang.”

“I’m not just a pretty face.”

You laughed which only made the smile on Junho’s face brighter. There was nothing more precious to you than seeing that smile on his face. For so long, all you had seen was him struggling, a smile a rare oddity as he searched for his brother. Life had taken so much from him but now he seemed so carefree. He seemed like the Junho you had met all those years ago back in high school. The one who laughed at everything, who enjoyed the small things in life. You knew deep down that he still thought about Inho and what could have been. You couldn’t blame him. Inho had been such an important part of his life – he had basically raised Junho but he wasn’t the man that Junho had once known. He was a completely different person now. That was why he had finally decided to move on. The brother he once had was long gone, replaced by a stranger he didn’t know. There would always be a part of Junho that was missing but as long as he had you, he knew he’d be okay.

“Is the elevator actually working today? I don’t want to walk up all the stairs again,” you scanned the lobby of your apartment building, eyes lighting up when you saw that the elevator was actually working. 

“Guess they fixed it while we were out,” Junho pressed the button, the elevator doors opening. He guided you inside, pressing the button to the sixth floor where your shared apartment was. As you rested your back against the cool metal wall of the elevator, Junho grabbed you by the waist, his hot breath fanning over your face as he gazed down at you with adoring eyes. “Have I mentioned how beautiful you look today?”

“Maybe once or twice but it wouldn’t hurt to hear it again,” you rested your hands on the plane of his chest, feeling his muscles tense through his shirt. Junho leaned down, capturing your lips in a soft, gentle kiss.

It didn’t take long for things to heat up. Junho’s tongue traced along the seam of your lips, asking for entrance. The second you parted your lips, his tongue met yours in a heated dance. Each time you kissed, it felt like the first time. The sparks ever present like you couldn’t get enough of each other. Your hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, tugging him as close to you as humanly possible.

Junho’s hand danced along the waistband of your jeans, popping the button open and dipping inside. His fingers slowly, teasingly ran along your panties, already feeling the damp spot forming there. It made him groan into the kiss. It never ceased to amaze him how your body reacted to him, just one simple touch made you a complete mess. Intimacy had been far and few over the years but now he was making up for lost time. Any opportunity he could take to show you how much he loved you, he was going to grasp. His fingers rubbed slow circles against your core, a breathy whine falling from your lips. A smirk adorned his face; he had you right where he wanted you.

“Junho, please,” you said breathlessly. You bucked your hips into his hand trying to seek more friction. There were only a few more floors before you’d reach yours and you so badly needed him to finish what he was starting.

As if sensing your desperation, he slipped his fingers inside your panties, his long digits sliding through your folds with ease. Your slick coated his fingers, making him groan, aching for more. He circled your entrance with one of his fingers, easing a finger inside you which caused you to gasp, throwing your head back in ecstasy. He began moving it slowly, his thumb finding your clit. His eyes glanced over seeing you were at the third floor. He had to speed this up so he moved faster, pumping his finger into you with increasing speed. The hand that was on your hip, held you in place, stilling your movements. When he slipped another finger inside you, the moan you let out was louder than you expected. You had never been more thankful that nobody else was in the elevator with you. Junho added more pressure with his thumb, circling your clit as his fingers drove into you. He knew your body better than anyone, he could tell that you were getting close. You just needed that push. So, he curled his fingers inside you, stroking that spot that made you see stars.

“Oh my god, right there, baby, I’m so close,” you panted. The moans falling from your lips paired with how wet you were against his fingers was making his cock throb in his jeans. He couldn’t wait to get you back to your apartment so he could really show you just how much he loved you.

“Come on, baby. Come for me,” he leaned forward to whisper in your ear, the deep rumble of his voice sending shivers down your spine. “We’re almost at our floor. We don’t want anyone catching us, do we?”

It took one more hard thrust of his fingers before your orgasm came crashing over you. A moan of his name echoed through the elevator. He kept his fingers moving, working you through your orgasm. He could feel your release on his fingers, the sensation making him harder than before. When he was sure you were completely spent, he pulled his fingers from you. Just in time because the elevator dinged letting you know you were at your destination.

You took a moment to take a steady breath in. You needed a moment to collect yourself before you could even think about walking. Junho brought his hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing delicately against your skin. “You okay?”

“I’m great,” you said with a dazed smile. “Can’t wait to return the favour.”

Junho just laughed, guiding you out of the elevator and down the hall to your apartment. Before he unlocked the door, you leaned up on your tiptoes, kissing him. He tangled his fingers in your hair, savouring the feeling of your lips against his. It was a miracle that he managed to somehow open the door from behind while you were entangled with each other. He stepped back into the apartment, tearing his lips from yours momentarily. Just as he was about to speak, something caught his eye.

“What…?” He made his way over to the small bundle of blankets. His face paled as he laid eyes upon the last thing he thought he’d ever see in his apartment.

A baby.

“Junho, what’s wr-”

You were stopped in your tracks when you heard the cry of the baby. In his hands, Junho held a small card, the words ‘Player 222, winner’ written on it. Then, he pulled out a debit card, his eyes widening. “....Inho…”

It was almost on instinct that you picked the baby up, holding it against you to soothe it’s crying. You were no expert with kids but you couldn’t leave the poor thing laying there crying. It had been left here for a reason. The sound of his brother's name caught your attention, your confused eyes looking at your fiance with question. “...Inho did this?”

“I… yeah, I think so.” He paused. Never had he felt his heart hammering against his chest so hard before. A sense of panic washing over him. He may not be a detective anymore but it didn’t take one to figure out what this meant.  “I need to… uh, I need to go to an ATM.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“You’re kidding me?!” You exclaimed loudly, the baby safely in your arms as you looked over Junho’s shoulder to see the balance on the ATM.

45.6 billion won.

Junho looked like he’d seen a ghost, all the memories of everything he’d witnessed on the island rushing back to him. He knew what this money was, what it meant. It was dirty money but… it was money that could help. Somehow, some way, he knew that Inho knew he needed this. He had a wedding to pay for and now… a baby to care and look after. Children had been a topic of discussion between the both of you but you had decided that you didn’t want to start trying for a few years yet, opting to enjoy just being together first before you brought a child into the world. Now, thanks to Inho, you had no choice.

Junho leaned against the wall beside the ATM. You placed a gentle hand on his cheek, letting him know you were there. He wasn’t alone – he never would be again. You spoke softly, trying to reassure him. “Hey, it’ll be okay. I… we can do this. I know we’re not ready but you and me, we can do anything, yeah? We’ve been through worse.”

Junho nodded. “Y-yeah.”

“This baby has nobody, Junho. We have to give it the life it deserves. We don’t want everything that happened to be in vain.”

“I just wish he’d have.. come to me in person. Why won’t he just talk to me?” He sounded so defeated. Of course Inho had a way of ruining everything, setting Junho back just as life had gotten good for him.

“Fuck him,” you said. “What matters now is you, me and this baby. Nothing else. We’re in this together, okay? Inho is a thing of a past. It’s his loss that he’s cut you out, not yours. That is not your burden to bear. You tried, baby. You tried so hard and don’t ever forget that.”

“Okay,” Junho nodded. His eyes landed on the baby. “I saw her. All those months ago on the island. She won the games. I don’t know how, I don’t want to know how or why she was even involved in them but… we can’t ever tell her, okay? I don’t want her to ever know where she came from. Not from that place. She doesn’t deserve to live with that.”

“She won’t. She’ll have a good life with us. Now, come on. We have 45.6 billion and a baby to cater for now. We better go shopping.”

Junho had never been more thankful to have you. The way you could lighten a situation and make him feel like he was going to be okay. It was more than he could ever ask for. Raising this baby wasn’t going to be easy but together, you could do it. You could do anything.

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[exitingmusic]

▬▬ι════════════════════════════════════ι▬▬

When Suguru died, you lived on autopilot, drifting from mission to mission and ignoring the concerned glances of those around you.

What did life have to offer anymore now that you didn't have him, your love, your very reason to live?

You didn't blame Yuta, or Satoru, they were just defending themselves.

But, it still irked you that they were smiling and laughing and enjoying life while you were stuck in grief, seeing glimpses of him everywhere, more like absences.

When you got out of the shower, Suguru wasn't there to take care of your hair, brushing it and adding any serums, mousses, or oils you requested, letting you lean against him as he gently massaged your scalp, paying attention to every contented sigh that came from your mouth.

When you get home, there was no Suguru waiting to pamper you with gifts and gestures. There was no baths, no lotions, no special treatment. There was no one who had your favorite tea already prepared, sitting by your bed where the pillows were fluffed up, a comfy set of clothes laying on it, ready for you.

When you were out in public, there was no Suguru to stand by you, grounding you no matter where you were. It was if all protective armor was gone, all warmth was gone, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to the world.

When you woke in the middle of the night, Suguru wasn't there to hold you, to whisper all the bad thoughts away with his sweet words. There were no comforting words that could replace the empty space you lied down next to each night. There were no pillows that you could hug to replicate his tender touches. There were no heaters that could replace his warmth laying next to you.

So maybe that was why it was so easy to stay by Kenjaku.

Because he felt like your Suguru. Same long hair, same violet eyes, same smile, same body.

But the resident was not your Suguru.

There was no usual warmth to his gaze when he looked at you, only emptiness, like you were just another pawn to him.

This man didn't know every single step of your hair care. He didn't know your favorite tea, your favorite scent, which people made you uncomfortable. He didn't know how you needed to be held at night. He didn't know your wishes, your needs, your ticks that you whispered in the middle of a troublesome night.

He didn't know you at all, staring at you with distaste, like you were just a weakling to be sacrificed.

But you still stayed.

You stayed foolishly believing your Suguru would come back. That he'd come back to you, for you. That your Suguru wasn't dead.

So you fought by Kenjaku. You fought by Mahito. You fought beside everything you had stood against.

Because you still clung onto your love.

So when Gojo found you abandoned, bleeding out, he didn't gloat, didn't show disgust.

Only sympathy and bitter regret for not stopping you.

Because somewhere deep down, he hoped the same as you.

That one day it would all go back to normal, what it should be.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, voice barely audible and almost unable to see him through your tears, "I just wanted him back."

He knelt down next to you, "I know, I know you did. I did too."

He closed your eyes as he watched your chest still.

He'd bury you next to Suguru if there was a body.

That way you'd have him back for eternity.

▬▬ι════════════════════════════════════ι▬▬

A/N: my baby :( Radiohead got me messed up now

[midnightquillz]

I wanted to try this again, So i think I got it down this time. :) Honestly i know this poster { @thewriteadviceforwriters was giving advice and i love it but this mentally gave me a prompt. So intentional or not i hope you see this! Thank you :)

MidnightQuillz version of: ✨ The Twist That Reframes Everything ✨

Content Warnings:

Murder and premeditated killing

Financial fraud/embezzlement

Psychological manipulation and deception

Undercover surveillance/stalking

Exploitation of grief support groups

Domestic violence (verbal arguments)

Death of a loved one

Fake grief/emotional manipulation

Police investigation themes

Betrayal of trust

Note: This story involves someone using grief counseling as a cover for criminal activity and an undercover investigation within a mental health support setting.

The Support Group

Jasmine had been going to the grief support group for three months when Alex first showed up.

The community center meeting room always smelled like burnt coffee and industrial disinfectant, but Jasmine had grown oddly fond of it. It was the only place where she didn't have to pretend she was "doing better" or "moving on" or any of the other phrases people used when they were uncomfortable with her pain.

"We have someone new joining us today," Linda, the group facilitator, announced with her usual gentle smile. "Alex, would you like to introduce yourself?"

Alex was younger than most of the group—maybe late twenties, with tired eyes and the kind of nervous energy that came from drinking too much coffee and sleeping too little. They fidgeted with the sleeves of their oversized sweater as they spoke.

"Hi, I'm Alex. I... my partner died six months ago. Car accident." Their voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm not really good at this talking thing, but my therapist said I should try."

"Thank you for sharing," Linda said. "What would you like us to know about your partner?"

Alex's face softened. "Their name was Jordan. They were... they were everything good about the world, you know? Always making everyone laugh, always trying to help people. They worked at the animal shelter downtown because they said someone had to speak for the ones who couldn't speak for themselves."

Jasmine felt the familiar ache in her chest. It had been eight months since Marcus died—also a car accident, though his had been at night, in the rain, on his way home from working late at the youth center. She'd heard Alex's story a hundred times in different versions from different people, but it never got easier.

After the meeting, Jasmine found herself walking out with Alex. It wasn't intentional—they just happened to be heading in the same direction.

"How do you do it?" Alex asked suddenly. "Linda said you've been coming for months. Does it get easier?"

Jasmine considered lying, giving the answer people wanted to hear. Instead, she said, "Some days are better than others. Some days I still wake up and forget he's gone."

"Jordan used to leave me little notes," Alex said. "Stupid things, like reminders to eat lunch or jokes they found online. I keep finding them in random places—jacket pockets, between book pages. It's like they're still trying to take care of me."

"Marcus did that too," Jasmine said, surprised. "He'd put Post-it notes on the bathroom mirror with terrible puns. I couldn't bring myself to take them down for months."

They walked in comfortable silence for a while. Then Alex said, "Would you maybe want to get coffee sometime? Not like a date or anything, just... it might be nice to talk to someone who gets it."

Jasmine hesitated. She hadn't really talked to anyone outside the group since Marcus died. Her friends and family meant well, but they all seemed to think grief had an expiration date.

"I know a place," she said finally. "The café on Pine Street. They have terrible coffee but good pastries."

Alex smiled—the first genuine smile Jasmine had seen from them. "Perfect. I love terrible coffee."

Over the next few weeks, Jasmine and Alex fell into an easy friendship. They met for coffee after group meetings, texted each other on bad days, and slowly began to share the weight of their grief.

Alex was funny in a dark, self-deprecating way that made Jasmine laugh despite herself. They had strong opinions about movies, knew an alarming amount about obscure true crime cases, and always ordered the same thing at the café—black coffee and a blueberry muffin they never finished.

"Jordan would have loved you," Alex said one afternoon, stirring sugar into their coffee. "They collected people like you."

"People like me?"

"Good people. Genuine people. They had this theory that the world was full of people pretending to be okay, and the only way to survive was to find the ones who admitted they weren't."

Jasmine thought about Marcus, about how he'd had a similar philosophy. "What did Jordan do at the animal shelter?"

"They were a veterinary technician. Worked mostly with the dogs nobody wanted—the old ones, the sick ones, the ones with behavioral issues. Jordan said they just needed someone to be patient with them."

"That sounds like Marcus. He worked with teenagers everyone else had given up on."

Alex nodded. "Do you think they would have been friends? Jordan and Marcus?"

"Definitely," Jasmine said. "Marcus would have loved Jordan's Post-it note thing. He was always trying to make people smile."

"What's the worst thing about it?" Alex asked suddenly. "The grief, I mean."

Jasmine considered. "People expect you to be grateful for the time you had. Like the pain is worth it because you got to love someone. But some days I think I'd rather have never met him than feel like this."

"Yeah," Alex said quietly. "And then you feel guilty for thinking that."

"Exactly."

They sat in comfortable silence, watching the rain streak down the café windows. Outside, people hurried past with umbrellas and determined expressions, everyone rushing somewhere important. Jasmine wondered if any of them were carrying the kind of weight she and Alex carried.

"Can I ask you something?" Alex said. "Do you ever feel like... like you're betraying them by moving forward? Like enjoying anything is proof you didn't love them enough?"

"All the time," Jasmine admitted. "I laughed at something on TV last week and immediately felt sick about it. Like I was supposed to be sad forever to prove he mattered."

"Jordan would hate that," Alex said. "They'd probably leave me a note telling me to stop being an idiot and go live my life."

"Marcus would say the same thing. He was always pushing people to be better than they thought they could be."

Alex smiled, but it didn't reach their eyes. "Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I'd been in the car with them that night."

"Alex..."

"Not in a suicidal way," Alex said quickly. "I mean, maybe sometimes. But mostly I just wonder if I could have changed something. If I'd been there, maybe I could have grabbed the wheel, or told them to slow down, or..."

"Or you'd both be dead," Jasmine said gently. "I've had the same thoughts about Marcus. What if I'd convinced him to stay home that night? What if I'd picked him up instead of letting him drive? But you can't live in the what-ifs."

"I know. Jordan's mom tells me the same thing. She says Jordan wouldn't want me to blame myself."

"You're close with Jordan's family?"

"They're all I have left of Jordan, you know? Jordan's mom still texts me every week to check in. Their dad sends me pictures of their dog. It's like... they're keeping me connected to the person I was when Jordan was alive."

Jasmine felt a pang of envy. Marcus's family had been kind but distant after the funeral. They'd never really approved of their relationship, and his death had only made things more awkward.

"That's beautiful," she said. "I'm glad you have that."

"What about you? Do you have anyone who knew Marcus well?"

"A few friends from work, but they don't really know what to say anymore. Everyone's moved on except me."

Alex reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "I'm not moving on either. We can not move on together."

The following week, Alex didn't show up to group. Jasmine waited until the last minute, thinking maybe they were just running late, but Linda started the session without them.

"Is Alex okay?" Jasmine asked Linda after the meeting.

"I'm sure they're fine," Linda said. "People sometimes need breaks from group. The work we do here can be overwhelming."

Jasmine texted Alex that night: Missed you at group today. Everything okay?

No response.

She tried again the next day, and the day after that. By the weekend, she was genuinely worried. It wasn't like Alex to disappear without saying anything.

On Monday, she decided to stop by the animal shelter where Jordan had worked. Maybe someone there would know how to reach Alex, or at least confirm that they were okay.

The shelter was a small, cheerful building with murals of dogs and cats painted on the outside walls. Inside, the smell of disinfectant couldn't quite mask the underlying scent of animals and hope.

"Excuse me," Jasmine said to the young woman at the front desk. "I'm looking for information about someone who used to work here. Jordan?"

The woman looked confused. "Jordan? I'm sorry, what's their last name?"

"I... I don't actually know. They worked here as a vet tech. They died about six months ago in a car accident?"

The woman's expression grew more puzzled. "I'm sorry, but I don't think anyone named Jordan has worked here. I've been here for two years, and before that my supervisor would have mentioned anyone who... who died. Can you describe them?"

Jasmine realized she couldn't. Alex had talked about Jordan constantly but had never shown her a picture, never described what they looked like beyond vague terms like "beautiful" and "kind."

"Maybe I have the wrong shelter," she said weakly.

"Maybe. You could try the city shelter on Broadway, or the one in Queen Anne."

Jasmine thanked her and left, but she didn't go to the other shelters. Instead, she sat in her car in the parking lot, trying to make sense of what she'd just learned.

That evening, she googled "car accident Jordan Seattle six months ago" and found nothing. She tried different variations—Jordan, car accident, vet tech, animal shelter—but came up empty.

Her phone buzzed. A text from Alex: Sorry I missed group. Been having a rough week. Coffee tomorrow?

Jasmine stared at the message for a long time before responding: Sure. Pine Street café at 2?

Perfect. See you then.

Alex looked terrible when they showed up to the café the next day. Their eyes were red-rimmed, and they kept glancing around nervously.

"Are you okay?" Jasmine asked. "You look like you haven't slept."

"I haven't been sleeping well," Alex admitted. "Bad dreams."

"About Jordan?"

Alex's face went very still. "Why would you ask that?"

"Because... because that's what we talk about. Our partners. Our grief."

"Right. Yes. About Jordan."

They ordered their usual—black coffee and a blueberry muffin—but Alex's hands were shaking slightly as they stirred sugar into their cup.

"Alex, I need to ask you something," Jasmine said carefully. "I went to the animal shelter yesterday. The one where Jordan worked."

Alex went very pale. "Why?"

"Because I was worried about you. You disappeared without saying anything, and I thought maybe someone there could help me figure out if you were okay."

"And?"

"They said no one named Jordan had ever worked there."

Alex was quiet for a long moment. Then they said, "Maybe I got the name wrong. Maybe it was a different shelter."

"Alex."

"Or maybe they just didn't know. Big staff turnover, you know?"

"Alex, stop."

Alex looked up at her, and Jasmine saw something in their eyes that made her stomach drop. Fear. Guilt. And something else—something that looked almost like relief.

"There is no Jordan, is there?" Jasmine said quietly.

Alex's face crumpled. "I can explain."

"I don't understand. Why would you lie about something like that?"

"Because I needed to," Alex said, tears starting to fall. "Because I needed to understand."

"Understand what?"

Alex wiped their eyes with their sleeve. "How you did it. How you got away with it."

"Got away with what?"

"Killing Marcus."

The words hit Jasmine like a physical blow. "What?"

"I know it was you," Alex said, their voice suddenly steady. "I know you killed him, and I know you've been lying about it for eight months."

Jasmine felt the world tilt around her. "Alex, what are you talking about? Marcus died in a car accident. You know that. Everyone knows that."

"Marcus Chen died in a single-car accident on Highway 99 at 11:47 PM on a rainy Tuesday night," Alex said, and their voice was different now—clinical, precise. "He was driving home from work when his car hydroplaned and hit a tree. No other vehicles involved. No witnesses."

"How do you know his last name?" Jasmine whispered.

"Because I've been investigating his death for eight months. Because Marcus Chen was my brother."

The café suddenly felt very small and very quiet. Jasmine could hear her own heartbeat in her ears.

"Your brother," she repeated.

"My older brother. Marcus Alexander Chen. He called me Alex when we were kids because he said my real name was too long. Alexandra." Alex's eyes were hard now, all pretense of grief gone. "He was driving home from the youth center where he volunteered, just like he did every Tuesday night. Except that Tuesday, he'd been fighting with his girlfriend. You."

"We didn't fight—"

"You did. The neighbors heard you screaming at each other. Something about money, about him finding out what you'd been doing." Alex leaned forward. "Want to know what I think happened?"

Jasmine wanted to run, to scream, to deny everything, but she was frozen in place.

"I think you'd been stealing from the youth center's fundraising account. Marcus was treasurer, so he would have noticed eventually. I think he confronted you, and you fought, and you knew your comfortable little life was about to fall apart." Alex's voice was getting louder. "So you followed him when he left. You waited until he was on that dark stretch of highway, and you ran him off the road."

"That's insane. You're insane."

"Am I? Because I've been watching you for months, Jasmine. I've been to your apartment, I've followed you to work, I've sat in group therapy sessions listening to you perform grief for a man you murdered." Alex pulled out their phone. "I've been recording everything."

Jasmine's blood turned to ice. "Recording what?"

"Every conversation. Every coffee date. Every time you slipped up and said something that didn't match the story you told the police." Alex scrolled through their phone. "Like how you said Marcus left you Post-it notes on the bathroom mirror, but you told the investigating officer you'd removed all his things from the apartment the week after he died. Or how you said he was working late that night, but the youth center's records show he left at his normal time."

"You're twisting things—"

"Or how you knew exactly how much money was missing from the fundraising account even though that information was never made public."

Jasmine felt like she was drowning. "I never said anything about money."

"Two weeks ago. You said Marcus was always worried about money, that he'd been stressed about some accounting discrepancy at work. But the only people who knew about the missing money were Marcus, the center's director, and the police."

Alex leaned back in their chair, and for the first time since Jasmine had known them, they looked genuinely calm.

"I've been building a case against you for eight months," Alex said. "The fake grief support group attendance, the manufactured friendship, the recorded conversations—it's all evidence. And tomorrow morning, I'm taking it all to the police."

Jasmine's hands were shaking now. "You can't prove anything."

"Actually, I can. See, while I was playing your grieving friend, I was also tracking your financial records. Turns out you made some interesting deposits right after Marcus died. Insurance money, sure, but also payments from some offshore accounts that are very hard to trace."

"You're crazy."

"And you're a murderer who's been using a grief support group as cover for your guilt." Alex stood up. "The really sick part is that you actually seemed to enjoy it. Playing the grieving girlfriend, getting sympathy, making friends with other people who were actually in pain."

Jasmine thought about all their conversations, all the times she'd felt genuinely connected to Alex, all the moments when sharing her "grief" had felt almost real.

"I did love him," she said quietly.

"No, you didn't. You loved what he could give you. And when he threatened to take that away, you killed him."

Alex gathered their things. "Oh, and Jasmine? That story about Jordan? I got it from you. Every detail about the Post-it notes, the animal shelter, the caring nature—that was all Marcus. I just changed the name and made up a car accident. Funny how easy it was to get you to tell me exactly how to fake grief when you'd been doing it for months."

They paused at the door. "The police will be in touch soon. I'd suggest you get a lawyer."

And then Alex was gone, leaving Jasmine alone with her cold coffee and the terrible understanding that everything she thought she knew about the last three months had been a lie.

Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: Thanks for the confession. - Detective Chen

Detective Chen. Marcus's sister. Alexandra Chen, who'd been patient and kind and understanding while she built an airtight case against the woman who'd killed her brother.

Jasmine looked around the café, at the other customers drinking their coffee and living their normal lives, and realized she was probably looking at it for the last time as a free woman.

Outside, it started to rain.

🔪 3 Plot Twists That Slap (and 1 that should be arrested) 🔪

hello and welcome back to me yelling on main about storytelling crimes. today we are talking about plot twists. specifically: the good, the god-tier, and the why-would-you-do-this-i-trusted-you tier.

let’s go.

✨ The Twist That Reframes Everything ✨ a.k.a. the “wait. WAIT.” twist. This is when you drop a twist that doesn’t just add drama - it recontextualizes the entire story. It makes the reader go back and reread earlier scenes like “was this character ALWAYS sketchy or am I just stupid??” It retroactively changes the emotional weight of everything that’s happened. Suddenly that offhanded comment in chapter three hits like a brick. The romance subplot becomes 500% more tragic. The villain’s motive makes SENSE now. Delicious.

✅ Best used when: the breadcrumbs are subtle but real. The twist shouldn’t come out of nowhere - it should feel inevitable in hindsight. Like Sixth Sense, Knives Out, that one betrayal in your favorite anime you still haven’t recovered from.

2.🧨 The Emotional Betrayal It’s giving: “i would’ve died for you” energy. This is the kind of twist that hurts. You thought they were loyal. You thought they cared. They did care - and still did it anyway. Or they never cared, and now you’re spiraling. This twist slaps because it’s not just about plot, it’s about trust. It stabs the characters AND the reader in the same motion. Bonus points if it’s a slow burn betrayal. Bonus bonus points if the betrayer feels genuinely torn up about it.

✅ Best used when: the reader is emotionally attached. Don’t waste this one on a side character we barely know. Save it for the love interest. The best friend. The mentor figure with dad energy. Make it personal. Make it RUIN lives.

3. 🧊 The “They Were Dead the Whole Time” but Make It Interesting Listen. This one’s risky. It’s a classic for a reason but also easy to flop. But when done well? Haunting. Creepy. Unhinged in a gorgeous way. It doesn’t have to be death either - maybe the character’s been possessed. Or they’re not real. Or the narrator’s memory is lying. The KEY is to not lean too hard on the shock. Lean on the vibes. Give it eeriness. Make it a slow unraveling. Give us dread. Give us melancholy. Give us psychological decay with a side of unreliable narrator.

✅ Best used when: you’re writing something surreal, gothic, speculative, or emotionally weird. This twist isn’t about plot logic, it’s about atmosphere and emotional rot.

🚨 The Twist That Should Be Arrested: “It Was All a Dream” 🚨 I’m sorry but. no. if I read 80k words of someone’s descent into madness just to find out it was their stress dream and now they’re normal again?? I will throw the entire book into a lake. This twist erases tension instead of escalating it. It invalidates everything the reader emotionally invested in. It’s the narrative equivalent of gaslighting. don’t do it. UNLESS - and this is a big unless - you’re doing it with INTENT. Meta intent. Dream-within-a-dream psychological horror intent. If you’re gonna do it, it better haunt me. It better RUIN me. Otherwise? Into the lake.

okay that’s all. go forth and commit plot crimes responsibly. bonus points if you use all three Good Twists in the same story and then look me in the eye like “oh was that too much?”

it wasn’t.

tag me when you emotionally destroy someone with it.

🕯️ download the pack & write something cursed:

[formulafanfics13]

Lando needing to take out his frustrations from a race that ended badly and so he does in bed. Which reader has agreed to and doesn’t mind. But maybe Lando gets too rough and she uses their safe word but he doesn’t realise because he’s so far gone. And then after many(or few) attempts he finally hears it(maybe she starts crying idk) and then Lando immediately feels bad and tries everything to make up for it ❤️

Brutal Love, Gentle Hands - LN4 🔥

masterlist

Summary After a disastrous race, Lando takes his frustration out in bed — too hard, too fast, too disconnected. You’ve always trusted him with your body, always had a safeword system in place for nights like this, when he needed to burn it all out. But tonight, he doesn’t hear you. Not until you scream red. And when he finally does — when it hits him what he’s done — everything inside him breaks. The story unfolds in the aftermath: apologies, shaking hands, grief wrapped in tenderness. He holds you in the bath. He doesn’t touch you again until you ask. Because you were never just a body to him. You were his home. And he forgot — for one devastating moment — but he never will again.

Warnings dark themes, rough sex, emotional distress, ignored safeword (momentary), panic response, aftercare, sobbing, protective partner, guilt, kink dynamic with safety system, intense emotions, bath scene, domestic softness after trauma, resolution through communication, consensual kink but temporary breach of boundaries, reference to couples therapy, hurt/comfort, no glamorisation of boundary-crossing.

You could always tell when it was a bad race. Not from the way he spoke, because Lando didn’t say much when he was like this. Not from his jaw, even though it was clenched so tight you could trace the shape of his molars through his skin. Not from the slamming of the door or the sound of his helmet hitting the floor or the shower running too long.

You knew it the second he touched you. Because it was different. Rougher. Faster. Less present, more desperate. Like he was chasing something that he couldn’t get from a car and was going to claw it from your body instead.

He kissed you hard in the hotel suite, the scent of race sweat and champagne and engine oil still clinging to his neck. His hands tugged at your waist. His voice, low and flat, was the only warning you got. "Clothes. Off. Now."

You didn’t protest. You never did on days like this. You’d agreed a long time ago that if he needed you to take it, if it helped burn through the frustration, if he needed to fuck the rage out of his system, you would take it. Because he would stop if it got too much. Because you had the safeword. Because you trusted him.

But tonight? Tonight, you should have known.

He didn’t kiss your mouth again after the first time. Didn’t undress you with the kind of reverence he usually did. He yanked your top over your head like it was in the way. Shoved your shorts down your thighs while dragging you to the bed like a possession.

“Fucking bullshit race,” he spat under his breath. “Could’ve had a podium. Fucking strategy fucked me. Always fucking me. At least you’ll take it properly.”

You gasped when he flipped you onto your stomach. Cried out when he forced your legs apart with a knee and buried his hand in your hair to pull your face back. You weren’t wet yet, not really, but he didn’t notice. Or maybe he didn’t care.

He shoved into you anyway. No prep. No warning. Just brute force and blind frustration.

“Good fucking girl,” he growled, setting a brutal rhythm that made your body jolt with every thrust. “You’re the only one who listens. The only thing I can fucking control.”

You whimpered. Fists clenched in the sheets. Tears pricking already. You wanted to be good. You wanted to take it. But it hurt. Too much.

The pace was relentless. His grip on your hair was vice-tight. You tried to speak, tried to say the word, but it came out garbled. Swallowed by the sound of skin slapping skin, by the raggedness of his breathing, by the litany of curses under his breath.

He wasn’t here. Not really. His body was, but his mind was still on the track. Still in the car. Still stuck behind a team radio screaming strategy calls too late.

You opened your mouth again. Tried to say it. Louder this time. “Red.”

No response. Your breath caught. You squirmed, he only growled louder and slammed into you harder.

“Fuck, stay still. Stop fighting me.”

You sobbed. “Red, Lando. Red-please.”

Finally. Finally his rhythm stuttered. You felt his hands freeze. Heard his breath catch, caught the split-second of clarity.

“What-?”

“Red,” you gasped, voice cracking, shaking now under him. “Red. Please- stop- I can’t- it hurts-”

And just like that, it broke. He pulled out immediately. Crawled off you with shaking hands, his own breathing suddenly ragged, terrified. “Fuck. Fuck. Babe- no. No, no, no-”

You curled onto your side, legs drawn in, trembling. A hiccup of a sob escaped you. Lando’s heart fucking shattered. “I didn’t hear you. I didn’t-” his voice cracked. “I didn’t know. Fuck. I didn’t mean- I thought- you always- fuck, I’m sorry.” He wrapped himself around you, completely abandoning his own nakedness. Arms tight, hands frantic as he tried to gather you against his chest without hurting you further. “Shhh, baby, I’ve got you. I’m here. I’m here. You’re okay now. You’re okay.”

You were still crying, too stunned to form words. Lando pressed kisses to your shoulder, your temple, your knuckles. Anything he could reach.

“You used your safeword. And I didn’t hear you. That’s on me. That’s not okay. I’m so fucking sorry.”

You nodded into his chest. Barely. But it was enough.

He shifted so he could look at you. His hands were shaking. “I’ll never do that again. Never. You’re more important than anything else. I don’t care about the race. I don’t care about the podium. I care about you. You’re mine but only if you want to be. You say stop, I stop. You say red, I stop. No excuses.”

He looked broken. More than after the race. More than after any crash. You reached up with a trembling hand and touched his cheek. “I know,” you whispered. “I know you didn’t mean to. You just didn’t hear me.”

“But that’s not an excuse. I should have- I should’ve seen- fuck. I hurt you.”

You shook your head. “You stopped. That’s what matters. You heard me. In the end.”

And he lost it. Head in your neck. Arms tight around you. You both cried, softly now. Together. He didn’t try anything else that night. Didn’t ask. Just cleaned you up, drew a bath, sat behind you and held you while you soaked in silence. He washed your hair. Rubbed your shoulders. Let you curl into him in bed with your face pressed against his chest and his arms cocooning you like a shield.

In the morning, he made you breakfast. Booked a session with the couples’ kink therapist you both used sometimes. Ordered you flowers. Called his trainer and cancelled media duties.

And he didn’t fuck you again until you asked for it. Because you were never just his outlet. You were everything. Even when he forgot, for a moment. He never would again.

[sir3nsfi1m]

( DREAM ) ᯓ UCONN WBB / JUJU WATKINS

🀥 a lot of people will look at you , but only a few will see you

summary — moving hundreds of miles away to a completely new space, a new group of people to learn and grow with, and a completely different community is probably the scariest part of life. but with family, not just by blood, the process can be a lot easier . . .

notes — i was feeling rlly soft ; NO ROMANTIC SCENES WITH ANY UCONN WBB PLAYER / this is supposed to be a juju fic but i just realized i never rlly wrote her in here it just felt weird to not give you a s/o — this is ‘24-‘25 uconn 😛

You were never really a homebody. Don’t get it twisted. You were open to adventure. Open to exploring the world, matter of fact, you dreamed of traveling the globe. Discovering new cultures and experiencing different point of views.

But moving across the country to go to your dream school felt different. Felt sort of… scary, in a non-childish way.

Different was scary. Disrupting the flow of your routine you’ve had almost all your life living in the same place. You knew every twist and turn of the roads that led to your favorite hole-in-wall coffee shops and local restaurants. You knew which house belonged to who and which dog you were feeding scraps to when it would rest on your porch.

Changing the script feels unfamiliar. A new process. Packing your childhood room full of endless memories. Your first officially signed WNBA poster, your first pair of designer shoes, your first kiss, your first basketball, your Team USA hoodie hanging on your door. Endless opportunities sat right outside of that room, but some sort of pull kept you from wanting to move.

Los Angeles, California to Storrs, Connecticut is approximately 43 hours via car, 2,920.4 miles. A 43 hour car ride to completely change your life.

“It’s not too bad, you know.” Her deep, smooth voice rings through your headphones. The rumble of the road beneath the Uber’s wheels vibrates the leather seat you sit on, the faint sound of the radio fading into the background as your head leans against the window, your eyes downcast towards your phone. “You’ll get used to it before you even know.”

You scoff halfheartedly, staring out the window for a moment. The weather is a bit confusing, high 70’s but no sun in sight. Your eyes trail back to your phone, displaying the sight of JuJu’s hoodie-covered body laying comfortably in her bed, half-chewing on the string as she stares into the screen, her room lit with only the lamp sitting on her desk.

“Easy for you to say, Ju. You didn’t move across the country. You’re still in-state.” Your voice was light, but mixed with something you didn’t want to unpack.

JuJu pursed her lips slightly, just for a moment, like she was thinking about something. Her naturally lidded eyes held a sort of softness in them you never wanted to look away from. She sighed. “Ma, everything is gonna be okay, you know that. UConn is your dream school, you’ve been talking about it since you could even talk, and you haven’t shut up about it since.”

You scoffed, smiling despite yourself. “Yeah, I know.” Your fingers restlessly played with a loose string on the band of your sweatpants, your jaw lightly clenched in concentration. “I don’t know, it’s just weird. I’ve lived in LA my whole life. And now I’m just… gone. My entire life is stuffed into two suitcases and I’m in a completely new state with completely new opportunities waiting for me. It should excite me, I know. I just… I’m scared, Ju.” You look towards the phone somewhere in between your rant, seeing JuJu staring at the screen with concerned but knowing eyes, her attention fully closed in on you.

“What if I mess up?” This sentence may have haunted you for as long as you could remember. You recall asking yourself this same question about a million times a day. During practice, before a game, during tournaments, during games, during a presentation —

Nothing scared you more than failing.

JuJu furrowed her brows, sitting up a little and angling her phone to show more of her face, a stern but gentle expression resting on her face. “You know how much I hate you asking me that.” She wasn’t mad, just frustrated you could never fully see your own potential.

The nation’s top 3rd recruit for the 2024 season, Ivy League school’s offering full rides, medal after medal, state championships, injuries you’ve had to endure. You’re stronger than you think you are.

You sigh, shaking your head. “I know. I know, I’m sorry. I just —”

“Stop.” It wasn’t harsh, just firm. Gentle with the undertones of ‘you’re spiraling, breathe.’ “You aren’t gonna mess up, baby. Trust me.” JuJu pauses for a moment, as if mustering up the words she’s placing together in her mind. “I’ve seen you bounce back from endless rocks in the road, Ma. Your injuries. The people that doubted you. The people who didn’t understand your worth. This isn’t gonna be the thing that breaks you. It’s gonna build you. Women’s basketball doesn’t even know what they’re about to witness.”

Her voice calms you. The deep, gentle tone that always slows down your brain and forces you to breathe.

“You’re sure you’re not the tiniest bit mad that I chose UConn over USC?”

JuJu deadpanned, scoffing. “Don’t even.” You couldn’t help but giggle at her expression, knowing the answer as you’ve asked her countless times since you decided you were committing. JuJu softens her face again, “I’m not gonna be salty towards you just because you’re going to my… rival school.” She feigns disgust, masking it with a grin. “This is your dream, baby. I’m not gonna be selfish and tell you not to go just so I can keep you to myself. Besides, who else is gonna keep you humble by completely embarrassing you during the inevitable times we will be matched up together?”

Your grin turned wider despite yourself. You hated how easy it was for her to switch your mood around. It was as much of a curse as it was a blessing.

Your smile turned soft, your eyes holding those three words you didn’t need to breathe out for it to be known. “Thank you, baby. I miss you.”

JuJu’s infamous smirk made its way onto her lips, leaning back against her bed frame. “Yeah, I know you do.”

You scoffed, deadpanning. “Never mind.”

JuJu huffs a laugh out of her lips, her smile turning your stomach inside out and lighting it up with imaginary fireworks. “I’m kidding, Ma. I miss you, more.”

You turned towards the window with a smile, a cocky expression written all over your face. “That’s what I thought.”

Leave it up to JuJu, the girl of your dreams, the one who’s been by your side since you were being carried up in the sky to make layups, to be the one to switch your mood in just a couple minutes from completely hopeless to utter excitement.

Getting used to the team wasn’t easy, by all means. Understanding the players and the formation they had created before you was difficult and patient process.

Everyone had their own routines, as you’ve examined. A team of players with completely different ways of playing the game but all coming together to form one. Finding where you fit in the puzzle was the hardest part.

It took a while for you to understand how visual Paige’s court vision really was. Took a while to fully trust that she could get the ball where she needed it for you to take that winning shot. No-look passes weren’t something that came easily, but it showed up nonetheless.

Azzi’s beyond the arc shooting took a while for you to fully grasp. Every shot she took seemed like straight butter. That fire in her eyes before she took her shot, the way she planted her feet, the way she knew when her shot would take and when it wouldn’t. It seemed like Paige and Azzi formed a duo of their own, like they communicated through the tiniest of glances, the simplest of gestures.

KK’s defense threw you for a storm. The energy she put onto that court could probably light an entire arena alone. Though a younger player, you can definitely tell she is slowly taking a leadership role with the way she can create opportunities for her teammates and pass the ball like it came naturally.

Forcing yourself into the mix felt uneasy at first, unfamiliar. The first few practices felt like you were back in middle school. Your confidence slowly building throughout each rebound, with each drive you took towards the basket, through every 3 you sunk.

Geno wasn’t soft with you, nor did you expect him to be. He was firm, honest, brutal in some respects but needed. He didn’t lie to you with your mistakes. He pushed you to your potential, the potential he saw in you.

By the second week, it felt relaxing. Getting to know your team on court was easy, but knowing them off court was even easier.

Jokes passed to you during stretches, being included in night hang outs, deep conversations with your roommates that also involved gossip.

It felt strange, in a good way. You were so used to your team back home, the people you saw almost everyday for 4 years, and now you’re with a completely new set of people but it felt just as it did before.

It felt like home.

“So, I have to ask ‘cause we’ve all been thinking it.” The movie playing on the screen was drowned out by the sound of KK’s voice booming through the air in her heavy fashion. You sat on the floor leaning against the couch, Azzi gently working through your strands, braiding them in a pattern you didn’t even ask for. “Are you actually dating JuJu? Like, from USC?”

You couldn’t help the surprised laugh that fell from your lips as the team looked up with looks of their own, scattered from surprised to controlled, like they were used to it. Azzi’s fingers stopped what they were doing, looking up at the restless girl on the other side of the couch. “KK!” Her tone was firm, but held a slight humorous undertone. “You can’t just ask someone about their personal life like that.”

KK scoffed, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Girl boo, we’re a team, we’re supposed to be asking these questions. She’s been here almost two weeks and nobody’s even dared to ask. So I am.” She shrugged with a little smirk resting on her lips, a dangerous expression on her face.

Paige shook her head from beside Azzi, a knowing look on her face as she looked down at her phone. “Here we go.”

Ice and Jana snickered under their breaths from the floor on the opposite side of you. Sharing a bowl of popcorn and looking between their team like it’s the movie despite the actual film on the tv screen.

You smiled fondly, despite slightly embarrassed considering you were just put on the spot, everyone pretending like they’re not staring at you and waiting for the answer. Even Azzi’s half-waiting, fingers slowly going back to braiding.

You adjust the pillow in your lap, getting more comfortable, before sighing softly. “I mean, yeah.” Eyebrows raised in the room, but the air never turns from its playful aura.

KK laughed, loud. “I knew it! I’ve heard you on the phone a couple times but like I didn’t want to be disrespectful so I didn’t say anything.”

You raised an eyebrow her way, giving her a sarcastic look. “So you eavesdropped instead?”

She narrowed her eyes at you in playful annoyance. “Don’t play with me.” You giggled at her response, igniting a loose laughter across the room. You felt weird, a warmth tugging at your chest you couldn’t help but revel in.

“Wait, so how’d that even start?” Kaitlyn, the genius transfer from Princeton, chimed in from the couch.

You shrugged, looking down and playing with the edges of the pillow in your lap, trying but failing to hide your fond smile you always get when you talk about JuJu.

“We’ve went to school together since probably forever. She got me into basketball, actually. Made me watch the games with her and wouldn’t let me look away from the screen.” You laughed softly at the memories. “We made it official in sophomore year, but I know she’s been crushing on me since middle school.”

Azzi nudges your shoulder with her knee. You can’t see her face, but you know she’s probably got a fond expression on her face. “Aww, you guys seem so adorable together.”

KK blinked, surprised. “Wait, that’s actually kinda cute. I thought she’d always been this like nonchalant kid. Like I can full on imagine her having no expressions as a child.” She gives a look to Paige, who’s half-listening, half watching whatever reel is on her Instagram. “Nothing like this wannabe nonchalant final boss over here.”

Paige lifts her head so fast you almost get second-hand whiplash. She cuts a dirty look to KK, raising her hands, “Why am I catching a fade right now?”

You ignore her, smiling knowingly at KK. “Nah, she thinks she’s nonchalant. You guys just don’t know her off the court.” You look towards Sarah, who’s been silent the entire time, the only one paying attention to the movie. “Like Sarah.” Her head whips over, a confused look on her face.

“Bro… what?” The team is all smiles and giggles as Sarah continues to ask what’s so funny. You just stare between every person sitting in the room, your heart feeling like it’s fluttering so fast it’s gonna explode.

You were scared at first, unsure of how much of your life would change when you moved. You were scared of the change.

But now, as you sit in this room with people who you’ve only just gotten to know, but feel like you’ve known forever, you start to understand why people say family isn’t made, it’s earned.

Off-days are the hardest.

The days you feel disconnected, unsure of your place, confidence flying out the window with every missed shot, every turnover you make, every missed opportunity you didn’t call.

Those days feel like the days you just wanna give up. With every yell from Geno, telling you step it up, pass the ball, lay off the defenders. Every note, despite it being for the use of the team, feels like a new prickle in your skin that itches so hard it scabs over and bleeds.

Those days break you the hardest.

You remember your first off-day. Waking up with the biggest migraine you’ve ever experienced, having to use the strength of a thousand men to pull yourself out of bed, barely managing that ‘good morning’ text to JuJu before forcing yourself into your newly acclaimed routine.

It started slow. Burning your tongue on your morning coffee. Dropping your toothbrush in the trashcan. Putting your shoes on backwards. It moved into more noticeable changes. The way the sunlight burned your eyes so deep. The way the soft chatter of the morning team felt like nails scrapping on a chalkboard. The way the squeaking of shoes on the court felt like it was burrowing itself behind your eyes.

Something was off. You knew there was, you just couldn’t place it.

You forced yourself to ignore the stares when you would fumble the ball on an easy drive to the basket. Ignore the mumbles when you would miss an easy mid-range jumper and slowly walk back on defense like you were forcing yourself to move your body. The way Geno seemed like he was targeting you with every misstep you would take.

You forced yourself to push every doubt into the back of your mind. All until Paige pulled you aside once Geno called for a break, leading you away from the group huddling for their water, her gentle eyes landing on you; sunken in cheeks, heavy breathing that wasn’t just from the endless conditioning, the way your hands shook a little too much.

“Hey…” Her voice was low, soft, laced with concern and understanding. “You good?”

You nodded despite the lingering pain behind your eyes, despite the lights that seemed to bright and the music that seemed to loud bellowing in the gym.

Paige raised a brow. “Don’t lie to me.” When you furrowed your brows and went to interrupt her, she shook her head. “I can tell somethings wrong. You’re missing your shots, which I know you can down. Your feet are stumbling. You’ve barely said one word since you’ve gotten here.” You look to the side, sighing as you shook your head softly. Paige lowered her voice. “What’s going on, rook?”

The nickname set a warmth in your chest. Her concerned gaze and soft voice soothed you in a way you couldn’t understand. Like a way a sister could read your mind.

You shook your head a little firmer. “Nothing, I just…” you couldn’t even force yourself to keep up that mask, sighing and looking down as you force the tears threatening to escape to bottle up inside you. You swallowed hard, looking up and trying to avoid those big, blue eyes filled with concern and almost dared you to lie. “I don’t think I can do it, Paige.”

Paige furrowed her brows, confused. She set her hands on her hips as she waited for you to elaborate.

You sighed again. “Everyone here has their spot. Their place.” You gestured to the rest of the team, who, albeit seemed like they weren’t paying attention, looked over towards the two of you every couple of seconds. “They all have a place where they fit. Why do I feel like I’m the only one that can’t? Why am I the missing piece?” Your eyes threatened to water over, but you forced yourself to push them back.

Paige shook her head, pursing her lips. “Hey, listen to me.” She forced you to look into her eyes, despite the way you wanted to curl yourself into a ball and never get back up. “You fit, okay? You do. Everyone here does. This team wouldn’t be full without you. I would be lost on that court if I didn’t know that I could trust you in those chaotic moments. You’re where I need you, and I know you can deliver that extra pass, that last-second shot-clock-draining basket. You never back down, and that’s exactly what this team needs. You belong here, okay? Don’t ever think twice about that.”

You don’t recall the moment that first tear falls, but once you heard her tell you that you belonged, you didn’t hold back. Your lips trembled with the sobs you held back. Her voice was firm but gentle, like she wasn’t explaining, she was telling you.

Paige wrapped her arms around you and brought you towards her in a soul-crushing hug, resting her chin on top of your head as you wrapped your arms around her, hiding your cries into her shirt. She whispered softly into the air as you took in the embrace, feeling as though you had just gained an angel in a moment of weakness.

“We need you here, little sis.”

The nights you needed an escape, you went to Azzi.

Blankets and endless snacks, despite Azzi claiming that the carrot sticks she packed were enough, and the stars was your outing from the endless chaos that ensued in your new life.

She wouldn’t ask questions when you would walk into her room covered in a gigantic blanket with snacks packed into your hands and a soft look on your face, she would just smile and tell you to wait for a moment so she could change into a onesie and grab her blankets before you would walk across campus to one of the empty courts.

The low sound of her typing on her phone would drown out into the sound of crickets chirping and the wind rustling softly against the trees as you would lay down on a blanket, staring into the stars like the painted a picture you were examining.

This was all you needed. Silence. The presence of someone sitting beside you, no speaking, no questions about professors or class work, no jokes about Geno’s hair products or someone slipping on the court during practice.

Just pure silence. Soft and comforting.

Sometimes, you would speak.

“Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if we didn’t decide to pick up a basketball?”

Multiple answer questions. Ones that you could develop thousands and thousands of theories and possibilities but will never happen because it’s just not how the universe tuned itself.

Azzi turned her phone off from beside you, laying it gently beside herself as she stared up into the stars, body opposite yours, your heads touching. She hummed lightly into the air, a questioning hum.

“I don’t know, I guess…” she was quiet for a moment, pondering. “I think I probably still would’ve gone into something related to sports. Maybe coaching. Or maybe playing another sport.” Her voice was soft in the night, like a breath against the wind.

You hummed. “I always wonder what it would be like now if I hadn’t of decided to play. If I would have gone unnoticed today instead of being posted on articles. If people wouldn’t even give me a second glance when I walk on the street.” Your voice held distance, like your brain and your mouth were in two separate places.

Azzi hums again, breathing softly. “I guess it’s always a ‘what if’, huh?” A question left unanswered. “We just have to focus on the present, now. The past is something we can’t change, only grow from. Maybe life would be different if we didn’t play, but we’ll never know. Now, all we can do is decide if we want to continue asking ourselves what could be different and what can be different.”

You lay silent on the ground as you let her words caress your ears, carrying a comforting tone. Azzi, despite the deafening silence, interrupted, whispering. “I’m glad you decided to pick up a ball that day. I don’t think I could imagine playing without you, now.” She moved her head, forcing you to do the same, looking into her eyes as she smiled at you softly. “You’re stuck with us now, mini me.”

You giggled at the nickname, making her smile wider at you, reaching over and grabbing your hand softly. “You’re the little sister I’ve always wanted.”

You smiled, squeezing her hand. “You’re the big sister I’ve always needed.”

Despite the times you believe to be too much; pestering KK about a joke, annoying Sarah with memes, forcing Ice to make Crumbl runs with you, asking Kaitlyn too many questions, making Aubrey help you with assignments, you don’t realize the times you inadvertently help the team without even trying.

The times Paige curses herself out in her head when she makes a bad pass that you couldn’t grab, and you would just walk up to her, tap her arm, and tell her that her passes were great, she was just overthinking it.

The times Azzi feels like she’s letting the team down when she has to sit out of practices because her knee caught up with the amount of exertion she was having, and you would sit down next to her and compare scars, say that the lines looked somewhere between a heart and a constellation she couldn’t remember the name of, distracting her from the fact that she was sitting on the bench instead of scrimmaging with the rest of the team.

The times KK feels a little too loud and sits in her room in silence and scrolls through her phone, and you would lay beside her and show her stupid little reels and laugh like no one was watching, loud as ever.

The times Jana would feel a little too out of place because of the cultural differences, and you would deliberately wake up with Paige in the crack of dawn to make her breakfast during Ramadan.

The times Sarah felt out of place and too emotionless on the court, and you would walk over and throw and arm around her shoulders and just laugh at nothing.

You contributed a piece of yourself towards your team in more ways than you imagined. A family you found and loved with so much of your heart. A piece of your life you would carry with you through whatever battles you would fight in your future.

It turns out… a little adventure never hurts anyone.

sir3nsfi1m 2025

this turned out so long omg i wrote this in 3 consecutive hours and i haven’t grammar checked it at all so please ignore all mistakes luv u <3

[tiny-twinstars]

Fire Pit : Rebirth

A/N: The epilogue is here! Just a mini backstory and recap of KPDH. I plan to have all chapters between 1k to 3k words, this word count is 803. I really hope you all enjoy it! This is Polytrix x fem demon!reader. Reader is later implied as afab and some flavor of sapphic. Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist, and if you like the title as I'm thinking of changing it. As well as how you feel about reader being referred to with a nickname for later chapters. Enjoy <3

Divider by: Huraxy

CW: Description of pain

You weren't meant to exist.

You should have never been possible.

Yet you did.

Yet you 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦.

Your birth was an accident, when the Honmoon first laid its ground and Gwi-Ma nearly went out. The Honmoon had weakened him severely, yet a small flame hadn't reattached to the rest when he healed. This little flame of reds and oranges and pinks burned bright in its own little pit. Gwi-Ma waited days for this flame to burn brighter, to reattach, but it stayed cradled in its little pit.

Gwi-Ma had learned of your conscious state when a demon had managed to get two souls to feed him, and in curiosity, he gave the little fire pit a soul. Your flames bursted up, just a little, with a soft croak of hunger. The demon king saw this new revelation, if only you would grow stronger. Souls were hard to get for nearly four hundred years, the occasional soul that made a deal with Gwi-Ma usually fed him, yet you were starved, cradled in your father's flames.

Then came Jinu with his idea, and suddenly you were being fed. Flames growing stronger, but not enough to escape the pit you resided in. For every tenth sold, you got two, and when Gwi-Ma would take over, you could have more. Your little flame resided in the Night as the demons took to the overworld, ready to eat. Huntrix was broken, allowing Gwi-Ma to rise, the Honmoon gone.

The demon king used this to his advantage, consuming souls left and right as the masses walked mindlessly into his flames. The influx of souls made him grow, and for every three souls consumed, he sent two for you. Being fed at a rapid rate made you grow, steadily rising and almost filling out your little pit. Your conscious state started to understand, not a lot, but enough to realize your hunger. Everything had been going as planned.

Until it wasn't.

Gwi-Ma was defeated, sent back to the Night with the rest of his useless underlings. The Saja Boys were defeated as well, weakened severely with Jinu gone. Gwi-Ma’s flames weakened as they settled back onto their throne. Huntrix had nearly snuffed him out, but he knew the Honmoon wouldn't hold. The demon king yelled, snatching up demons and strangling their weaker bodies, burning them to crisps. His anger turned to a sense of despair when he checked on your growth, but your little pit was empty. The roar he released shook the Night, thinking his little flame had turned to ash.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You could 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡.

That had been the first thing you noticed. The ground was hard and kinda cold, nothing like the molten stone of your pit or your father's flames. You felt solid and heavy, in a way you didn't understand. Your hearing was greater than before, and it hurt. Everything was loud, things chatting and screaming, but it wasn't the sound of demons wailing in pain and anguish.

Your entire being ached in a way that made you want to yell, to cry out for Gwi-Ma, to understand what was happening. Everything was dark, something even more terrifying as usually you could see stone and flames. Even worse was the feeling of being weak, weak in a way that starving usually left you, but worse. Everything was simply too much.

A guttural noise ripped from something deep within you as you finally gained enough strength, and the first thing that happened was something peeling away from your vision. Eyelids. Panic hit as you realized your body was solid. Every new limb ached in a way you shouldn't have felt. The floor was concrete, covered in shadows between two towering buildings. The narrow walkway opened to another row of buildings as you could somewhat see, figures walking by. Tiny humans jumping and squealing in a way that made your ears ring.

Bright light cast down throughout the larger street. The sight of souls was tempting. Your vision blurry as you try to force strength into the rest of your new body. Your stomach clenched, a horrible acid taste filling your mouth as hunger twisted each new organ. Digging your fingers into the concrete, you started heaving, hardly moving in half inches towards the busy street.Each painful drag cut up your fingertips, threatening to break your nails.

Deep purple patterns traced your arms, fading in and out as you channelled any amount of power possible. You didn't even make it a complete foot before your body gave up, patterns darkening to stay as your cheek hit the hard floor. The scrape against delicate skin stung, a whine burning in your throat as your eyes closed. If only you could hear the noises coming towards you, the sound of shoes on pavement.

Your rebirth had been too soon.

Taglist:

♡ @enerofairy

[lotus-n-l0ve]

I just want to say, I LOVED kissed in Poison. In a "what if" situation, what if Reader had actually kept quiet for over a week, not meeting Sylus at 7:30? If Sylus had chosen to approach them on his own like he said, what would the meeting have been like on his terms?

First of all thank you sweetie 🫶. Essentially y/n didn't tell Elea before the week ended. She told her after the time was over. But it's Sylus we are talking about, just a bit of delay isn't enough to make him angry or anything. Now I have also wondered about that a lot and did come up with a couple different scenarios. This is another story line I was going for but my high ass morality won't let me make Sylus do that cuz at the end of the day Sylus is a green flag inside.

KISSED IN POISON : THE SERIES

If Y/N Had Kept Quiet Over A Week —

You woke up to the sound of bright giggles echoing down the hallway. It’s warm, soft — the kind of laughter that usually means everything’s okay. For a second, you smiled into your pillow, eyes still half-shut.

Then you turned your head, and the clock on your nightstand glared back at you in neon blue digits: 5:00 AM.

Your smile faltered. Elea never wakes up before six. She’s as stubborn about her sleep as she is about her morning cuddles. The house should be quiet — just you and the soft hush of the world outside. But that giggle came again, like tiny bells, followed by a low voice you know too well. One that shouldn’t be here. Not at this hour.

You push the covers back and slip out of bed, the floor cold under your feet as you creep down the hallway. The laughter grows clearer — bright, bubbling. You pause at the living room door, fingers curling around the frame.

The view in your kitchen almost knocked the air out of your lungs. There, in your kitchen, Elea is perched up on the counter while Sylus did something on the stove. Sylus leaned down to whisper something in her ear that made her giggle like no tomorrow. Like they knew each other since the beginning of time.

As if sensing you, both turn their heads towards you. Sylus doesn't look guilty. No. He has no ounce of guilt in his eyes. As if what he did — breaking into your home, god knows what he said to Elea and what he was doing in the kitchen, — everything was normal.

Elea jumped down from the counter, still in her bunny pjs, and ran to you, "Mommy, look—Daddy's home."

Your heart stopped. Daddy? He told her everything? Or something twisted? Did he feed her lies? Or did her tell her the whole dark past of yours?

You force your lips into a smile for Elea, smoothing a hand over her sleep-mussed hair as she clings to your leg, bunny ears flopping against your thigh.

“Baby, why don’t you go change out of your pajamas, hmm? Pick your yellow dress — the one with the sunflowers. Mommy will come help you in a minute.”

Elea beamed, too excited to notice the tension crackling like static between you and Sylus. She skipped off down the hallway, giggling all the way to her room.

The moment she’s gone, you round on him — your words a sharp hiss, your chest heaving with everything you’re trying to hold back.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here, Sylus? Breaking into my house out of nowhere? Filling her head with—”

You cut yourself off because you couldn't say it — Daddy. The word felt like glass in your throat.

Sylus didn't flinch. He stood there at your stove like he belongs there, sleeves rolled up, hair a little messy from where Elea must’ve tugged at it. His eyes were dark, glittering with something dangerous — anger, but something else too. Something hungry.

“You had your chance,” He said, his voice calm in that infuriating way of his, “A whole week, sweetheart. A whole week to tell her who I am. But you didn’t.”

You took a step closer, pointing a trembling finger at his chest, “You don’t get to stand there and act like you’re the victim—”

He laughed, a low, rough sound that had no right curling heat through your stomach. He leaned in, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, smell the faint trace of his cologne — cedar and musk, the way you remember it when he used to press his face into your neck at 2 AM and promise you forever.

“Don’t I?” He murmured, dipping his head until his lips almost brush the shell of your ear, “I lost six years because you woke up one day and decided I would hurt you. You didn’t even come to me if you had any doubt — or misunderstanding . You just ran.”

You suck in a breath when his hand brushed your hip — light, barely there, but it made your skin burn under your nightshirt. You hated that he still knew exactly where to touch, how close to get.

“I did what I had to do.” You bite out, your voice trembling with anger — or maybe it’s the way he was caging you in against the counter now, one palm braced by your waist, “You don’t know everything, Sylus. You don’t know why—”

“Oh, but I will know soon enough.” He cut you off, eyes flicking down to your lips, then lower, lingering like a promise.

“I know you’ve kept my daughter from me. Our daughter.” He said it like a threat — like a prayer, “I’m done waiting for you to decide when it’s convenient to let me see her. Or you.”

Your breath hitched when his nose grazed your temple, his voice soft and poisonous against your skin, “I’ve been patient with you, sweetheart. I really have. But you know me — I don’t like waiting. Especially not for what’s mine.”

You could feel how close he is, the heat of him sinking into you, the tension winding so tight it almost hurt. You wanted to shove him away. But you also wanted to kiss him until you couldn't remember why you ever left.

His lips brushed the corner of your jaw, just once — a fleeting touch that felt like it branded you.

“You should thank me, really” He whispered, “Now there’s no more secrets. No more running. Baby steps, right?”

You shoved at his chest — not enough to push him away, just enough to feel the muscle under your palms, the way his breath stuttered when your fingers curled against him.

“You can’t just force your way back in—” You snapped.

Sylus smiles, slow and wolfish, his hand sliding around to the small of your back, “Watch me.”

[lieran03]

Sudden Sickness

Love and Deepspace Fanfic

When you suddenly get sick, how would he take care of you?

Genre: Fluff/slice of life Pairing: Sylus x fem!reader (usage of Kitten as nickname) Words: 2.089 Warning: none! A/N: got stuck in a rough month, and suddenly getting sick, this fic came to accompany me if I got sick in the future

Writing commission || Ko-fi || AO3 acc

MASTERLIST

Xavier's || Rafayel's || Zayne's || Caleb's

Bringing his kitten to an auction has become Sylus’ habit. He knows that she won’t say no, especially when she has no mission in hand, and the fact that she wanted to spend more time with him, even if it meant spending it at a luxurious auction. As long as they were together, any activities would be fun.

“How would you rate today’s auction?” Sylus, driving his car, stole a glance at the girl who sat beside him. There was one thing Sylus had taken notice of from the start of their journey back. The girl has said nothing to him. “Does the auction bore you? Or did you regret not finding things you wanted there for yourself?”

Sylus didn’t need anyone to tell him that his words might sound bad to some people. He was doing it on purpose, hoping to get a reaction or a response from the girl. When none came, Sylus’ frown went deeper, and the smirk he had to show dominance was all gone. Now, he was sure something was wrong with her.

Tapping his finger to the steer, Sylus was contemplating what he could say or what he needed to do. What if the words that came from his lips only hurt her feelings? Did she need him to say something? Did she only want this serene moment between them once and then? Why does it feel like he barely knows about what goes on in her mind now?

After doubting himself for a long time, another sigh came from Sylus before he made a decision about what he needed or could say. He still isn’t sure if his words would be good enough for her not to get mad at him, but at the same time, he was used to her getting angry and throwing a tantrum at him. He thinks it’s cute.

“Your feet must have hurt. We can work on it once we get home.” Sylus' words earn a nod from the girl this time, making him feel a bit relieved. At least, he got a response. “Is there any food you wanted or any drinks for your request?”

She was hesitant for a moment before she said with a low voice, “I’m not in the mood to have dinner, something light to fill the stomach, maybe.”

“I can tell ….”

“Can you be the one to make it, Sylus?” The sudden eagerness and the way she cut him off—asking something from him—made the man almost lose his focus while driving; his eyes could only stare at her. Hesitation once again came, but one of his hands went to her thigh, giving a light squeeze to support her.

“If that’s what my Kitten wants, I should make one, right?”

Although Sylus was trying to act as though he had everything under control, the way he wanted, he couldn’t help but feel he had lost control. There must be something within her she didn’t tell him, something that might be important. For now, he wanted to trust the girl first, making sure she was comfortable when around him.

Once she washes up, Sylus brings a bucket of warm water filled with fragrance oil to make sure it relaxes her. Even when she said she could do it by herself, not wanting Sylus to go over his way by kneeling in front of her and washing her feet. It feels like she only became his burden more and more with him treating her like this.

“You better clear your mind and doubts about those kinds of thoughts, Kitten. Treating you like a princess is the only way to treat you. There’s no other way for you to be treated. Instead of babbling your mouth and saying strange things, it’s better for you to finish the food I make for you.”

“I think you’re the one talking too much,” she replied, pushing the fork in her hand towards Sylus’ lips, forcing him to eat the food he made.

Her act succeeded in making Sylus chuckle lowly, hands still busy with her feet. There would always be an interesting moment whenever he was with her. Her resistance, words, and actions somehow always amused him. She could always entertain him, just like a true kitten.

The sudden noise coming from her made Sylus look up. While she was supposed to enjoy the food he made, she suddenly let go of the fork, making the loud noise from before. Her face contorted in disgust and a mix of pain. Did he, by accident, grip her ankle too hard? Did he, by accident, use a spoiled ingredient to make the food?

“You okay, Kitten?” Sylus asked, looking at the girl more seriously.

“No,” she choked on her words, holding back something. “I just … I’m okay.”

With how abruptly she ended the conversation, Sylus was much more sure that there was something she was trying to hide. Although he didn’t know what the reason might be, Sylus would keep an eye on her movements. Lowering his voice, he asked her if he could continue his work, massaging her feet. Knowing how serious he was, she decided to let him while finishing the food slowly.

“If you didn’t want to finish it, you didn’t have to force yourself.” Sylus' words ring inside her head, as if a reminder for her not to worry about a thing. “I can still eat it too, you will go rest after this.”

“It’s okay. I ask you for this, something light. I will eat it with joy.”

Although the smile was intact on her lips, Sylus easily noticed it didn’t reach her eyes. With more pressure to hide something from him, he couldn’t help but to make speculation about the situation. It might not be only her feet that hurt; something else must have hurt, and she couldn’t say it to him directly.

Once she has finished, Sylus brings her to the bed with no words exchanged, lifting her and saying the line he didn’t want his hard work in massaging her feet to come to an vain. Instead of fighting him or telling him she didn’t need that, Sylus was faced with silence, something that never came from her. That one act has made Sylus sure that something was really wrong.

“Sy.” The call to his name came too suddenly in the late night. While Sylus was not yet asleep, he didn’t expect her to call out his name. “Are you there …?”

“I’m here, Kitten, what is it?” Sylus takes a big step towards the bed, and in an instant already by her side. “You’re ….”

A frown finally made to Sylus’ forehead, looking at how the girl was hugging herself in pain, looking like she was sick and not in the best shape. The gear in his head was working overtime, thinking about what might be the cause. Was it the food she ate while they were in the auction? Or was it after? Did the symptoms appear when they drove home?

“My head hurts a bit,” she mumbled, being cut off before she could explain her situation to Sylus.

“I didn’t think it was a bit.” Not wasting a second, Sylus immediately checked her temperature. For sure, he knew that the girl did have a fever. “Wait for a moment.”

Sylus’ tone shows urgency, and when she finally came back to reality, she was accompanied by the twins, looking at her intently as if wanting to make sure she was alive. The mumbled voices and words exchanged by them slowly come to her; either Luke or Kieran was scolding the others, telling them she was just sick and not dead.

The bickering stops when Sylus enters the bedroom, tray in hand. When he noticed she was finally awake, Sylus dismissed the twins, along with Mephisto, who was somehow on the bed’s head all the time. A low clinking sound came when Sylus put the tray on the bedside, showing not only food prepared, there were also medicine.

A guilt filled inside the girl once she realized he was away to prepare everything, he even called the twins—with Mephisto—to watch over her, making sure that her sickness didn’t get worse when he was away. At a time like this, Sylus was supposed to prepare to sleep, not take care of someone, especially a person who was sick.

“Sy, I …,” she started, only to get cut off by Sylus, sitting on her side and putting his palm on her forehead.

“Your temperature didn’t go down, but at least it’s not rising like before. You need to drink first, because your body heat has made your lips chapped. You didn’t need to say anything.” With his words, Sylus took the glass from the tray, giving it to her while helping her to sit straight. “Are you dizzy? Did you prefer to lie down?”

“Yeah.” When the answer came, Sylus felt like he was finally able to get the control he had been missing before.

Silently, Sylus helped the girl to lie back down after drinking some water. Although it’s not much, he knows it was better than not taking any. While watching her get comfortable with the bed, he was glad that he had been using the right fabric to make it cold and warm at the same time. The worry in his eyes never went away, only made her feel guilty.

“Let’s just rest, Sy,” she finally said, voice a bit hoarse. “I wanted to sleep with you.”

Her words were accompanied by her hand hanging up, asking for a hug from Sylus. However, the man didn’t reply immediately. He held both of her hands in his, not hugging her or lying down with her, only standing his ground. The serious look he gave made her even more guilty. So she did bother him.

“As much as I wanted to sleep with you now, you have to eat something first. If I had known you were not feeling well since last night, I would have chosen proper food. Last night, you must have felt sick already, right? That’s why you’re not really into eating.”

“I thought it would go away,” she answered in a small voice, eyes looking away from him. At a moment like this, Sylus might be a bit intimidating.

“Even if it would, I prefer you had told me beforehand, Kitten. When you suddenly called out to me, eyes bleary and holding back a pain, I thought you were injured. I was one step away from calling a doctor, but you held onto my hand tightly. Also, the twins said it’s just a normal sickness, and it would go away with a proper rest.”

“Yes, it will. That’s why, Sy, sleep with me? The soon almost rising.”

“Just after you eat something and drink a medicine. As much as I want you to rest or drink a medicine, I prefer for you to fill your stomach first before taking any medicine.” Sylus was hesitant for a few moments, wanting to make sure he chose the right words. “You can lean on me while eating, that way, you wouldn’t feel dizzy, right?”

The suggestion Sylus made the girl ponder for a few seconds before smiling and nodding at him. Once he got the permit, Sylus skillfully and slowly not to cause any dizziness to her, made the girl sit straight while he was getting to the bed too, going behind her immediately. He put her head on his shoulder to rest before taking the food from the bedside and spoon-fed her slowly.

Although it’s not much, Sylus was satisfied when he got her to eat enough for her to take the medicine. Even when she had already drunk the medicine, Sylus didn’t move from where he was, still holding the girl in his arms and hugging her from behind.

“You will say sorry again, right?” Sylus’ words were right, even before she could say a thing, Sylus already guessed everything. “You didn’t need to feel guilty for not telling me. But, taking care of you has always been the thing I'm supposed to do, Kitten.”

“Now, you will rest with me, right?”

Looking at how eager the girl was, Sylus chuckled before playing with her hair. “Of course. Let’s rest together, Kitten. I will make sure that you get better when you’re awake. No need to worry about a mere sickness like this. Because I will be with you to beat this sickness.”

[callme-naomi]

There's Something on Your Lip - Oh, that's Me!

Kento had just discovered his newfound liking for croissants and you decided to bake it. Tried as hard as you did to be silent, he eventually caught you in the kitchen and while he originally pretended he didn't see anything - 'I'm here for a glass of water' - he later leaned on the kitchen counter.

"You look like you could use some company."

"What I could use," you scowled, trying to hide it from him by facing him, your back to the floury mess, "is some privacy."

"I'm afraid I can't give that. I know everything in this house, inside and out."

You snorted, and he smirked. "Then you should know the way back to our bedroom. Go on, scoot."

"There's so much I have to tell you today. I need to, what's your term for it? Rant."

"Or yap. Then wait for me in our cozy bed."

He leaned his cheek on his hand. "I'm afraid we won't be talking much once we're in bed."

"Valid point," you managed, with burning cheeks, "go read your book and I'll be back before you know it."

"Been there, done that. What I do know is that it's been fifteen minutes and you still haven't come inside." He sighed, before lifting his elbows off the counter. "I could use some company too."

"Is that your way of saying you want me?" you still didn't turn.

"And if I said it was?"

"Then I'd tell you to wait."

"For how much longer? It's overtime now."

You raised a hand to your lips. "Sh. Don't be impatient, it's not very you."

"It's not very you either to deny me the pleasure of your company."

You smirked now. "Now, now, who's being greedy?"

"Can't a man be greedy for his wife?"

You finally gave in. "Okay, greedy husband. Come in, but don't look."

"That I can do," he came inside and crossed his legs against the kitchen counter, leaning his back on it. "I'll keep my sights on you anyway."

"That's it," you cooed, going back to your work. "Eyes on me, pretty boy. Now, tell me about your day."

"It was just my excuse to have you come to me."

"Then we can still find something to talk about! Or you can go back to your room..."

"Our room. And the former sounds nice."

You continued working with the flour, giving them a perfect shape while he talked to you. At one point, he fell silent and you turned back, slightly ashamed at boring him, to see if he was asleep but he was still watching your every movement with adoration.

"Let me help you."

"Alright, alright. Come on up." You rolled your eyes when he came up behind you, but you still loved it all the same.

As you were clearing the first batch, you turned back with your hands full of flour and weren't aware of him practically trailing after you. Bumping into him, your hand rubbed against his cheek.

"Oh!" You looked up to see his cheekbone smeared with flour, and you immediately began apologizing until you saw a smile crack through his face.

Just as you let out a relieved laugh, you felt his hand rub against your face, and while you quickly turned your cheek away, his hand smeared over your lips, coating them white, and that's when the house rang with you two's laughter.

"What was that for?" you wagged a finger at him. "Mine was a mistake!"

"It's your punishment for keeping me waiting."

"Here, let me help wipe it," you come closer, but since both your hands were coated with flour, you rubbed your cheek against his, slightly clearing the flour.

"To show my gratitude for your help," he leaned in and then gave you a small kiss on the lips. "There. It's gone."

You smiled up at him while you put the croissants' dough to get softer. While he opened the fridge to find something, you called, "I guess you could call that 'sweet vengeance', right?"

"It's best served cold though," he came closer to you with his hands covering each other, and then with you turning back, he shoved the ice cubes down your shirt. He ducked just as you leapt back with a yelp.

"I'll have you pay for this!"

"Okay, okay, come here," he barely suppressed his laughs while you pinned him with a look of distrust, trying to get the ice out from behind you. "I promise, I'll get the ice out."

With no other option available, you edged closer, and then he crept his hands up your shirt's hem, their warmth having you relax slightly.

"You seem to enjoy this," his voice was a whisper close to your ear.

"So do you," you answered, "you don't seem to plan to take your hands out anytime soon."

Just as he pulled them, you grabbed his wrists. "I didn't tell you to remove them. Though, it's unfair I can't get my hands on you."

"I won't let you."

"Wanna challenge that, pretty boy?"

"If that's what you want, beautiful girl."

And well, the next morning, the kisses and marks on your neck were obvious indication of who won the challenge.

Hi there! This is for day two's prompt Cooking! (If y'all saw the unedited version earlier no you didn't)

[bm571158]

Right Where You Left Me- OP81

Previous Part Next Part

Oscar's POV

When Oscar woke the next morning, the bed beside him was empty. Nearly made and the sheets were cold. If it wasn't for the smell of her perfume on the pillow beside him then he might've wondered if he'd imagined her being there at all.

There was no note, no text or any explanation. Just one minute she'd been there, and the next she was gone.

The more it happened, the more confused he became. The first time in Jeddah, he'd chalked that one up to being a mistake, the two of them hadn't been alone like that in a long time and they'd just got caught up in a moment. But the more frequently he found her in his bed, the more he was struggling to come up with excuses to justify their actions even to himself.

He wasn't sure why she kept coming back. He knew why he kept letting her in though, that one was a much easier riddle to solve. He'd never stopped loving her, never wanted to leave her in the first place. He'd spent the last couple of years kicking himself over and over for the mistake that he had made in leaving her in the first place.

He'd panicked, that was probably the simple way to put it. The pressure that had been put on him that he needed to deliver in his rookie season, the constant reminders of what a gamble McLaren had taken on him by snatching him out from underneath alpines noses. It had all been piled on, with constant reminders that he needed to prove that he was worth it and he was only going to get one chance. The reminder that he should only have one focus- proving to Zak and Andrea that they had made the right decision. No room for anything else.

He'd been told at the time it was the right thing to do. Being with him was going to impact on Daisy's career as well, he'd been warned. She'd never get the job as a motorsport reporter like she had always wanted if the world knew she was dating a driver, they would think she wasn't capable of giving an unbiased account. Then had come the suggestions that the team wouldn't like it from Oscar's end either, that they couldn't have her in the garage supporting him if they'd been worried about what she might see ending up in the news. She'd have to pick, they'd told him, Oscar or her career.

So in the end he had made the choice for her, for both of them.

A choice that he'd been living with the consequences of ever since.

He'd sort of got his head around what had happened, accepted and told himself that it had been something of a necessary sacrifice to get to where he was. But having her back there, seeing her every weekend... it was a constant reminder of everything that he used to have and was now missing.

It left him reconsidering what could've been, if he'd made a different decision.

He was still mulling it over when his mum called him that evening. He'd put her on speaker and carried on sorting out his laundry, needing to get things washed and ready to head to Spain for the final leg of the triple header.

"Hi, Mum." He greeted her.

"Hey, Osc." She said softly into the phone. "Just checking in, you've been pretty quiet this week. You okay?"

"Uh... yeah... yeah, I'm alright I guess." Oscar mumbled. "I'm just packing to go to Spain."

"You must be tired, it's been a long couple of weeks, hey?"

"Yeah." Oscar yawned. "I'll be glad when this one of over and I get a couple of weeks off."

There was a long pause before she spoke again. "Are you sure you're okay, Oscar?"

"I.... I fucked up." He admitted with a sigh, still quietly folding his laundry as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

"Are you going to tell me what actually happened so I can help?" His mum asked. "Or just leave me with this very vague statement that means nothing at all and leave me to worry about what you might've done?"

He paused for a moment, unsure if he really wanted to tell her. He could only imagine what his mum was going to have to say about the whole thing.

"I uh... Daisy's been in the paddock the last couple of months." He admitted quietly.

"Daisy? As in Daisy?" She asked, unable to hide the surprise in her tone. It had been a long time since he'd spoken that name.

"Yeah, that Daisy." He sighed. "She uh... it's confusing, having her there."

"Have you spoken to her?" His mum asked curiously.

Oscar couldn't stop the nervous chuckle that escaped him in time.

"I'll take that as a yes." His mum commented when he still didn't say anything.

He figured at this point she already knew that there was something going on, and he may as well at least partially confess.

"It's uh... it's a mess." He sighed.

"Use actual words and explain to me, Oscar." She encouraged. "Or I'm getting on a plane and I'll come and find out for myself in Spain."

"That's a pretty long flight just to come and interrogate me." He commented sarcastically.

"Yeah, well... needs must and all that. Start talking and then maybe you'll save me the trip."

"She uh... her and Lando were... I don't know, you know what Lando's like." Oscar mumbled. "And then he uh... he got drunk and ditched her in a club and I gave her a lift back and we started talking..." he paused trying to consider his words, not willing to even think about telling his mum what had actually gone on.

"I'm going to go ahead and guess that talking is code for something else... but carry on."

"It's messy." He admitted. "Lando really likes her, he's got no idea who she is though. I've got no idea how she feels about Lando, but then she keeps turning up here and we're just kind of... I don't know, not really talking about what happened or what it means."

His mum was quiet on the end of the phone for what felt like a very long time.

"You know, you never did tell us what happened on the first place." She asked curiously. "One minute everything was fine, the next minute you're telling me that you're driving for McLaren and Daisy's no where to be seen."

Oscar paused for a moment, halfway through folding his shirt. "I uh... I did something really stupid. That's what happened." Was all he could offer.

There was another brief pause on the end of the phone. "Alright, that's it. I'm coming to Barcelona."

"Mum..." he protested. The only thing worse than having Daisy and Lando in the paddock and all the rest of that drama, had to be the thought of adding his mum to it as well.

"Don't say it like that." She laughed quietly. "I don't see you nearly as often as I'd like, and it sounds like you need someone to talk to about this. Maybe you can even win the race for me to see while I'm there."

"You're not going to change your mind, are you?" He asked with a sigh of resignation.

"Nope." He could hear her smiling through the phone. "So sort me a pass out, I'll see you Thursday!"

"What's wrong with you today?" Lando asked, rushing into the car that was going to take them to the track at the last minute, after they'd sat there waiting for him for at least fifteen minutes.

"Nothing." Oscar shrugged.

"Mate, you're even more grumpy than usual. We haven't even started the media stuff yet." Lando laughed.

"My mum is coming this weekend." Oscar admitted with a groan. "I'm just... I don't know, thinking of all the way she's going to interrogate me."

"Nice!" Lando grinned. "What's the special occasion? We don't see her on this side of the world that often."

"There isn't one." Oscar shook his head. "She's just... I don't know, I don't know what she's doing. Doesn't matter."

"You might want to try and look a little bit more excited to see her when she does show up." Lando suggested.

"Yeah, thanks for that." Oscar muttered, rolling his eyes. "I'm hoping she got in late enough that she won't show up at the track until tomorrow and I can have a day of peace."

"Yeah, then you can help me try and win Daisy back." Lando suggested.

"What?" Oscar's head snapped around to look at his teammate in surprise. "I thought... did you not tell me a week ago that she didn't want anything to do with you?"

"Yeah, but..." Lando shrugged. "I've been thinking about it and clearly her ex was a right idiot for letting her go. I just need to show her that I'm not the same."

"You literally forgot you took her with you and left her in a club on her own in a foreign country a few weeks ago." Oscar pointed out. "That's hardly boyfriend material."

"Yeah, but I'm a changed man now." Lando said confidently. "You know me, I never make the same mistake twice."

"I'm sure you'll find plenty of others to make instead." Oscar muttered. "Why her?" He asked curiously.

"What do you mean why her?" Lando asked with a frown.

"You heard me." Oscar told him. "There's been so many girls and you're never bothered about any of them. They don't even stick around for long enough for me to learn their names half the time and now, the one woman that doesn't want you and you decide that you're committed?"

"It's all part of the fun." Lando answered with a smirk. "I like a challenge."

Oscar let out a sigh. "You really need to get some new hobbies mate."

The paddock was fairly quiet and he wandered along beside Lando, the conversation having thankfully turned towards the race weekend rather than Lando's pursuit of the woman Oscar was in love with.

And then the two of them had walked into the McLaren hospitality unit to find his mum already standing there waiting for him, and Oscar had contemplated just running away.

"Good to see you again, Mrs P." Lando grinned, giving her a hug. "I'll catch you guys later, I'm going to buy a coffee and see if I can find Daisy."

Lando was gone before anyone could answer him, Oscar turning to his mum who was giving him a knowing look.

"Don't." He sighed, shaking his head and walking up the stairs to go to his drivers room to put his bag down, his mum hot on his heels.

"Are you really never going to tell him?" She asked curiously.

"Daisy would've told him by now if she wanted him to know." Oscar pointed out. "Maybe she does like him? She obviously doesn't want him to know about me and her so... I don't know, I told you on the phone it was a mess."

"Yeah and then I just saw your face when Lando mentioned her... you're going to have to say something, Oscar."

He tossed his bag down, turning around to face his mum as she closed the door to his drivers room behind her, leaving the two of them alone in the small space.

"I've tried, alright." He sighed miserably. "But I don't know what to say, don't know how to explain why I did what I did... I'm not even sure that it was the wrong decision to focus on my career, and I'm not sure that things are any different now. I'm leading the championship and I should be focused on that not... I don't know, whatever this is. I don't think anything's really changed, even if I wish it had. I can't give her what she wants, or what she deserves, and I don't know... maybe Lando can. She deserves to be happy."

Daisy's POV

The heat in Spain was stifling. She'd had to go back to London to go to the office inbetween Monaco and Barcelona, and that in turn had meant getting a 4am flight out that morning to get to the track in time. She hadn't made it as far as her hotel to get changed, she was exhausted and hungry, hadn't even managed to get a coffee and her patience was wearing thin.

The big story of the weekend? Which one of the McLaren drivers was going to walk away with the lead of the drivers championship at the end of the  triple header.

Daisy had been quietly hoping for something, anything else, to happen during the course of the week. Another team to replace a driver, a shock resignation... anything that might give her something else to write about.

But no, it was all eyes on McLaren this weekend.

And as if she'd summoned him by thinking about it, Lando appeared out of nowhere.

"Hey!" He grinned, holding out a takeaway coffee cup. "I brought you this."

"Thanks." She looked at him in surprise, taking the much needed coffee. "Does this mean I look as tired as I feel?"

"I always think you look gorgeous." Lando winked, and she felt herself blush. "I just... you know... I've been looking forward to seeing you all week, I thought I'd surprise you."

"That's very sweet of you." She smiled. "But Lando, I meant what I said in Monaco."

"I know." He nodded. "But I'm pretty sure that eventually you'll change your mind, and I can wait."

"Lando... it's not..." she trailed off, taking a sip of her coffee. "It's not that simple, and I meant it. We can be friends, but that's it. I'm not... I'm not out to get my heart broken again."

"You don't need to make your mind up now." He offered again. "I didn't bring you a coffee to trick you into anything, I just... I wanted to come and say hi."

"Thank you for the coffee, Lando." She said softly.

"I'd uh... I'd better go." Lando mumbled. "I'll see you around."

"Yeah, I'll be there to interrogate you in the media pen later." She joked.

"My favourite part of every weekend." Lando called back with a wink, heading off into the paddock.

Daisy was still mulling over the conversation with Lando, trying to figure out in her own head what she really wanted, when she heard a familiar voice behind her, one that she hadn't heard in a long time.

"Nicole?" She turned to look at Oscar's mum in surprise. She didn't know why it hadn't occurred to her that she might run into his family, it should've been obvious that they were going to be around, they'd always been around back when she used to be the one in the garage cheering him on as well.

"I thought it was you!" Nicole smiled, walking the last couple of steps to catch up to Daisy. "You've cut your hair."

"Yeah, I guess it's been a while since I last saw you." Daisy mumbled.

She knew exactly how long it had been since she had last seen the Piastri family. It had been the Christmas before Oscar left her, when they'd spent a couple of weeks laughing and joking with his family as though everything were completely fine.

"How are you doing?" Nicole asked. "Oscar told me you're here working?"

Daisy nodded. "Filling in for a colleague for a few months, his wife is pregnant and he couldn't do all the travel. He needed to be at home with her."

"I see, well... that's a great opportunity for you." Nicole smiled kindly. "It's good to see you doing so well."

"Thanks, Nicole." Daisy smiled softly. "It's uh... it's been weird being back, seeing Oscar... I still don't, I don't really know what I'm doing here to be honest."

"Oscar told me that Lando's got a bit of a thing for you as well." Nicole raised an eyebrow and Daisy felt herself blushing.

"That's not... I'm not going to start anything with his teammate. That wouldn't be fair." Daisy shook her head. "You don't need to say it."

"I wasn't going to say it." Nicole shook her head. "I still don't really know what happened with you and Oscar, he still won't tell me and to be honest I'm not sure it's any of my business. But whatever it was, as much as I loved the two of you together and I can still see that look on his face when he talks about you... you deserve to be happy, Daisy. And if you think that's with Lando, or Oscar or someone else entirely.... You should do what makes you happy."

"It's all.... It's all so complicated." Daisy sighed miserably. "Lando's lovely but... I don't know. I've been thinking about telling work I need to go back to my old assignment. It's been... being here has been a lot harder than I thought it was going to be. If I'd known it was going to be like this I don't think I would've ever agreed to come in the first place."

Nicole was quiet for a moment, considering her words. "Well, you've got to do what's right for you. But I know for one that my son might not say it, but he'll really miss having you around every weekend if you do decide to go."

Daisy glanced down at her watch quickly, before shooting Nicole an apologetic smile. "I'd uh... I've got to go, sorry. It's been lovely to see you though."

"I'm here all weekend, I'm sure we can find some more time to catch up properly." Nicole called. "And Daisy?"

"Yeah?" Daisy paused for half a step to look back at her.

"For what it's worth, whatever he did... I really don't think he ever meant to hurt you like that."

[ccupcakqs]

— quiet isn't weakness ౨ৎ✧˚

warnings: slow emotional tension, confrontation but not violence

pairing: kimi antonelli x protective female reader

a/n: protective reader is my roman empire, request!

kimi’s always drawn attention without trying to.

he doesn’t speak unless he means it. doesn’t smile unless it’s real. doesn’t perform for cameras the way some of the older drivers do. he’s steady. thoughtful. hard to read if you don’t know him — and most people don’t.

but you do.

you know the way he listens carefully before he speaks. how he notices everything in a room before he picks where to stand. how he keeps his hands in his pockets because people stop staring at them when they can’t see them tremble. how he gets a little quieter when he’s overwhelmed, like the world takes up too much space in his chest and the only way to breathe is to shrink.

he doesn’t tell people that. he just handles it. he doesn’t ask for help.

but you’ve never waited to be asked.

and tonight is no different.

you’re already irritated before the man even opens his mouth.

something about the sponsor dinner feels heavier than usual. too many eyes. too many conversations you don’t want to be part of. kimi’s not great at these things, and he’s been tense since the moment you arrived — stiffer in his suit, quieter than normal, eyes darting a little too quickly between faces he doesn’t want to talk to.

you stayed close. like you always do. fingertips brushing his sleeve every few minutes. hand on his back as you leaned into conversations for him when he couldn’t bring himself to say more than a few words.

he’d said thank you once, just under his breath.

you hadn’t answered. you’d just squeezed his hand.

the man shows up at your table about an hour in. someone from motorsport media. you don’t remember his name, but you’ve seen him around. one of those guys who talks too much and listens too little. he looks at kimi like he’s an answer to a question he didn’t ask, and then turns to you like you’re more useful somehow.

you already don’t like the way he stands too close.

but then he says it.

“so, does it ever get tiring?” he asks, like it’s casual. like it’s small talk. “you know, always being the one carrying the energy in this relationship?”

you blink.

he keeps going, amused with himself.

“i mean, he’s great on track, obviously. but he’s not exactly a crowd favorite, is he? not the most charming. i always wonder how a guy like that gets someone like you.”

you stare at him.

kimi stiffens beside you.

you feel it instantly — the way his back straightens, the way he stops breathing for half a second too long. he doesn’t look at the man. he just lowers his gaze to the floor, hands tucked away so tightly in his pockets you worry he’s digging his nails into his palms.

you step forward, slowly.

the man doesn’t notice at first. he’s laughing to himself, clearly proud of his joke.

you wait.

and then you speak.

“do you enjoy talking like that in public,” you say, voice low and clear, “or do you just assume no one’s ever going to call you out?”

the man blinks. “sorry?”

“you should be,” you say. “you’re not being clever. you’re not being insightful. you’re being cruel. and you’re pretending it’s charm.”

his smile falters. “look, i didn’t mean anything by it—”

“you did,” you say, stepping in front of kimi now. “you meant to undermine him. you meant to put him in a box that makes you feel smarter. and you meant to do it with an audience.”

you don’t raise your voice. you don’t need to. the people around you have gone quiet.

kimi still hasn’t said anything.

you glance back at him for a second. he’s looking down, jaw tight. his eyes flick up when you reach for his hand, and he lets you take it.

“kimi doesn’t owe you charisma,” you say, turning back to the man. “he doesn’t owe you banter or charm or media clips you can sell as stories. he shows up. he works harder than anyone in this room. he risks his life every time he gets in that car. and he does it without needing to be loud about it.”

you pause.

then softer, like a truth you’ve carried for a long time,

“he’s not invisible. you’re just not looking properly.”

the man swallows.

you let the silence stretch.

then you nod politely, still holding kimi’s hand, and walk away.

you find the quietest spot on the balcony, away from the crowd, the music, the low buzz of conversations that now feel a little too sharp. kimi doesn’t say anything for the first few minutes. he just stands next to you, watching the city lights flicker below, fingers still laced with yours.

you glance at him sideways.

he looks tired. and not the kind that sleep can fix.

“sorry,” you say softly. “i know you don’t like scenes.”

he shakes his head. “you didn’t make a scene.”

“still,” you say. “i just couldn’t let it go.”

kimi finally turns to look at you. really look.

his eyes are soft. serious.

“no one’s ever done that for me before.”

you let out a breath. “that’s messed up.”

he smiles. small. but real.

“you didn’t have to.”

you shrug. “i didn’t think about it. i just… saw your face. and it pissed me off.”

he nods.

“thank you,” he says again.

“don’t thank me,” you whisper. “i’m always going to stand up for you. even when you don’t.”

his gaze dips. “i wish i could say something back. when people talk like that.”

you tighten your grip on his hand. “you don’t have to. not when i’m around.”

there’s a long pause.

and then, so quiet you almost miss it:

“it made me feel seen.”

your chest aches.

you lean forward and press your forehead to his shoulder.

he wraps his arm around your back, holds you there for a long time. like he’s anchoring himself to you. like maybe, just maybe, your voice can drown out the parts of his mind that still believe the things people say.

and when he finally pulls back, his eyes are clearer.

“you’re dangerous,” he says, not unkindly.

you smile. “only for people who try to hurt you.”

© ccupcakqs. all work written by me. DO NOT PLAGIARISE!

[kellykadesperate]

36- Are you happier without me?”

an alternative take on robert storming the wedding!

Robert isn’t sure what he expected but it definitely wasn’t this. Aaron’s standing in front of him, and he looks so angry that Robert can almost feel it radiate off of him. He’s wearing a beige suit. He faintly remembers Aaron saying weirdos wear beige to weddings. It makes him want to smile. He doesn’t think it’s the time.

“You can’t be here.” Aaron’s saying. He might as well be in Leeds. The space between them is comical.

Robert nods. “Why, ‘cause you’re getting married?” He cocks his head to the side and then leans against the bridge. “Is it the happiest day of your life Aaron?”

Aaron looks like he’s just been punched in the gut. He doubles over a little and there’s tears in his eyes that threaten to fall before he wipes them away.

“You’re sick, do you know that?”

Robert stands up a little. “I’m asking you a question.” He says.

Aaron breathes out quickly and decides to just not answer the question at all. Instead he shakes his head and decides to walk away like he can, like it’s something they do easily.

“It should be the happiest day of your life.” Robert tells Aaron.

He thinks about their wedding, the second one that was free of this impending sense of doom. He thinks about kissing in front of the whole village, confetti found in their hair later that night as they rolled around in bed and clung to each other. They laughed so much that day. It was perfect.

Aaron gulps hard and stops walking. He turns and looks right at Robert. “And you want to ruin that, do you?”

Robert walks towards Aaron, he takes confident steps like he isn’t shaking inside. “I want to know –”

“And I wanted to be married to you, eighty odd remember? I wanted kids and a dog and Liv and –” Aaron starts shouting and Robert knows he’s the only one who gets Aaron this way. He isn’t sure if it's a good thing or a terrible thing. It’s a mixture of both, he decides.

“I ruined that. I know.”

Aaron scoffs, like the admission is something he’d rather not have spelt out for him.

“Just tell me one thing, and I’ll leave you alone. I’ll go, you’ll never have to see me again.” Robert waves a hand out like it’s a white flag. “Are you happier without me?”

Robert’s spent countless nights thinking of what the answer could be. It’s been in his nightmares, mocking him. It always starts with Aaron telling a faceless person that he can’t believe how gutted he was about Robert going to prison, it ends with him saying it was the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

It’s cruel and hopeless.

Aaron just stares at him, mouth open. “Don’t ask me that.”

“I just did.” Robert takes another step forward.

“John’s a good man.” Aaron nods once, and then again.

“Does he make you happy, feel like you’ve been hit by lightning every time you make him smile?” Robert closes his eyes for a second and a thousand memories come rushing to the surface just to mock him.

Aaron bites his lip and turns to the side. “He doesn’t make me feel like without him my world would literally end. He doesn’t make me cry, ache because he’s gone.” He whispers. “That was you. That feeling – it’s the worst feeling in the whole world and it’s what I felt because of you.”

Robert knows he made Aaron happy, the happiest maybe but this side of it all is also true.

It makes everything else seem to completely fade away.

Robert tilts his head down, nods like he’s letting Aaron go. When he looks up again, Aaron’s walking back to the village hall.

[stellargh0ul]

I need need need Papa V to spank me!!! Going feral for it 🫨

careful how feral you get, or he'll collar you like a mutt. <3

-

you tremble at the anger in his eyes, and all the bravado and confidence you’d had up until that point fades in the face of the knowledge that you’d really made him mad.

you hadn’t meant to- flirting with that cardinal was just something you did, something that greased the wheels and made the bureaucracy of the Ministry move a little faster. and you’d done it in front of Perpetua because you knew it drove him crazy when you paid attention to other people, and maybe you’d just wanted to rile him up a little bit.

but the look in his eyes says you’re in for it.

once the cardinal is gone, Perpetua is cool and calculating. he beckons you over to his desk and his hand finds the back of your neck, bending you over the edge with the slightest bit of pressure.

you’re already babbling out your apologies and your sorrys and your ‘I didn’t mean it, Daddy’s , but it’s too late. your fate is sealed and the only thing you can do is take your punishment.

he rolls up the hem of your skirt and orders you to reach back and grab it, your hands fisting in the fabric to keep it up and out of the way. Perpetua pulls down your panties, leaving them bunched around your ankles as a leather gloved hand strokes over the skin of your backside.

“you should have thought about how sorry you were before you flirted with him right in front of me,” he says casually, a tone that belies the anger beneath his words. without a warning his hand leaves your ass and then comes down, hard, on one cheek.

you yelp, rocking forward into the desk with the strike as pain blossoms under your skin.

“if that’s what you do when i’m watching, I can’t imagine the things you get up to when i’m not looking…”

another few slaps come down in quick succession and you close your eyes agains the onslaught, fists clenched in the skirt so hard that you’re afraid you might tear the fabric.

“i’m sorry, sir,” you whimper, and he pauses to caress what must be the outline of his hand against your skin. you’re sure you’re already bright red back there, and you know this is going to bruise before it’s over.

“I just want to know. do you flirt with all the cardinals, or just with that one?”

“I-I…”

“no, you don’t have to answer that. i’ll just excommunicate them all. that should solve our little problem.”

“Daddy, please, I’ll be good…”

“I know you will, little one. I won’t give you a choice. maybe lock you up in my office so that no one else can ever see you again… all mine, forever.”

you shiver even as another slap comes down on your ass.

you know he won’t really do that- once Perpetua calms down, you’ll explain everything to him. but for right now… for right now, you’re leaking around the bunched up skirt at the thought.