#and not only are they burying messages from real people

[yukipri]

Eyyy I Live!

I know I've been super quiet on here for a while, but I'm still around! Currently working on cleaning up the chapter for a long overdue Override update which should hopefully go up in a bit~

[thedreadvampy]

christ almighty some people are sad fucking miseries huh

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

pop that cherry

a/n: woop woop! here's the little slutty story that you guys voted for when i asked what you wanted to see happen next in this au ৎ୭

summary: “hey, I get it,” he flashed you a comforting smile, “I’m a complete stranger. You just shook my hand two seconds ago and now we’re expected to bang in front of a bunch of other people you also don’t know,” his broad thumb swept over your knuckles, “you just have to decide if you wanna pack up your things, go home and chalk this up to just a fun experience, a lesson learned about what corners your sexuality and such does and does not stretch to,” he uttered with sincerity, “or you can come back inside and we can make some magic happen. It’s up to you.” 

warnings: camgirl!reader x various, pornstar!ari levinson, roommate!bucky barnes, porn director!bruce banner, smut, porn au, college au, reader’s porn name is cherry blossom (UrLittleCherry), filming pornography, reader's first time doing professional porn, kissing, masturbation, toys, oral, fingering, voyeurism, exhibitionism, dirty talk, size kink (pornstar!ari is famous for his monster cock, you're welcome), belly bulge, manhandling, multiple orgasms, squirting, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, facial

word count: 3832

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

sugar & spice au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

masterlist | join my taglist 

Curled up and melted on your mattress, you absentmindedly scrolled through your phone. Your puffy pussy, hidden between your still trembling thighs, clenched in dull soreness from the fuck machine frozen by your feet and still glistening from the show you’d put on only moments earlier. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” a familiar voice emanated from your doorway, “I didn’t know you were done streaming.”

Lazily blinking up at Bucky as he leaned against the frame, “yeah, just signed off a few minutes ago,” you exhaled, “did you just get home?” the question flowed from your lips and he swiftly nodded in confirmation, “how was class?” 

“Oh my god, don’t get me started,” your roommate let out a groan and pushed himself off the wall, his stride swiftly carrying him the short distance to where you laid and plopped himself down beside you.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you felt him press a slow peck to your exposed shoulder. 

“Do you need help lifting the toy back in the closet or–,” Bucky’s kind offer was then cut short by the shuttering gasp that suddenly crawled out of your lungs. 

“Oh my god,” your eyes grew to the size of saucers as you stared down at the message you’d opened on your phone, “oh my god!”

“What? What is it?” he propped himself up on a forearm to peek over your shoulder. 

“I–…” your eyes scanned the email wildly, “this can’t be real, right?” you cast a glance back at your friend. 

“Let me have a look,” and you swiftly handed him your phone before hearing him skim through it, “dear miss Cherry Blossom, bla, bla, bla… we here at Smash Studios really love your vibe and were wondering if you would ever consider doing professional pornography, because if so, then we would love to work with you,” his blue eyes flickered a moment longer over the screen before they fluttered up to meet yours, “no, I think it’s legit.”

“Holy shit…” you breathed, an airy giggle then bubbled out of you as this was quite the news to take in, even when one wasn’t still hazy from haven fucked one silly in front of hundreds of people. 

“You think you wanna do it?”

“Beautiful, gorgeous! And look right here, up there, yeah, that’s it…” 

Sharp clicks shuttered the camera and shot throughout the massive house as a photographer snapped the last of the stills for the shoot. You were posed perched and kneeling on a bed with your right hand buried in the already tiny crop top, you’d brought as one of the outfit options, and held up high to reveal your tits. 

The groan of floorboards creaking then found your ears and your gaze swiftly fluttered towards the door where the salt-and-pepper-haired man, who you’d come to learn was the head of the little porn studio, crossed over the threshold. 

“How are we doing in here?” Bruce adjusted his glasses before stepping further into the room. 

“I think we’re about done,” the photographer lowered the camera from his eye and cast a glance to his boss, “think we got the shot.”

“Great,” Bruce clapped his shoulder as the other man passed by and exited the room. As you tugged the short t-shirt back down into place, you met Bruce’s gaze before he asked you, “how are you doing? You ready?”

Though your mind was way too preoccupied to offer him an answer and instead blurted, “has he arrived?” as you scooted off the bed and felt the tiny shorts you wore ride up enough for your grasp to float down to adjust. 

“Not yet, I’m sorry,” he tilted his head, “trust me when I say that he isn’t usually this late. He wouldn’t have the stellar reputation he does if he was. But we can still begin without him and just fix it in post if you’re–”

Someone then poked their head and announced, “hey Banner? He’s here. I just spotted his bike roll up the driveway.”

Feeling your heart thump in your chest, you heard Bruce clap his palms together, “great!” before you followed him out of the bedroom and through the pristine halls of the rented modern mansion. 

Just before your bare feet began to conquer the long staircase, your absentminded grip tightened on the glass railing as you looked down at the open living room, clearly visible from the wide balcony, and spotted the figure that then sauntered in. 

“So sorry I’m late, traffic was literal hell.”

Ari Levinson. 

With sun-kissed brunette locks flowing from his head and a motorcycle helmet nuzzled under his burly arm, the infamous pornstar was not only blessed with a smile that could make anyone swoon, but also a dick so huge that any sane person would be downright terrified by the idea of having it split them apart. 

Though that wasn’t what had stopped you in your tracks, what had made your palms embarrassingly clammy when he soon shook one of them once you’d somehow made your way down the stairs. 

Why did your very first partner have to be someone you’d obsessively been getting off to for years? 

You were barely listening to what the people around you were saying as you couldn’t rip yourself out of the trance you’d snapped into. 

“I’m sorry, what?” you soon blinked, trying to avert your gaze. 

“I asked if you were ready,” Bruce patiently repeated. 

“…for?” you breathed, feeling as if you were inside of a giant ethereal cheese bell, making the entire world around you seem blurry. 

“For the shoot,” Bruce’s words still flew straight over your head, “I said that I was thinking that I’d do the filming myself, if that could make you more comfortable since you’ve already met me. That way it’ll just be me, the two of you and then Sam in the corner doing audio.”

“O-okay…” you said quietly, feeling your cheeks heat up as Ari let his gaze linger over you, an observant brow soon twitching as he spoke up. 

“Wait, actually,” he placed a palm on Bruce’s forearm, halting him as he reached for the bulky camera resting on the white couch, “do you mind if I grab a quick smoke break first?”

“Yeah, sure,” he nodded, “let’s just all take five before we begin.”

It caught you completely off guard when the object of your distraction walked by you and paused to murmur in your ear, “come with me outside for a second, will you?”

Shadowing him all the way out of the tall glass door and onto the terrace, you watched him lean his frame against the fence and tilt his body for you to slot in beside him. 

“I don’t actually smoke,” you uttered softly as you let your fingers ghost over the railing. 

“Oh, neither do I–, or well, that’s not completely true, I do, just didn’t need one right now.” 

“So then why did you ask for a smoke break?” you cocked a brow. 

Blowing out a swift breath, Ari then twisted to face you more and gazed directly down at you. 

“You mind if I hold your hand?” he held out his own palm.

“Oh, uhm,” your glance flickered down to his upturned hand before you carefully placed your own atop of it, “okay.”

His warm fingers swiftly engulfed your own as his stare stayed fast upon you.

“So, this is your first time, huh?”

“Oh, no, I'm not a virgin, I–” 

“I meant porn, sweetheart,” he tilted his head to be more at your level. 

“Right,” you averted your gaze as butterflies soared in your stomach, “yeah, I haven’t really done this before… I mean, I’ve some stuff, I’ve cammed for a pretty long time now and even recorded custom videos for some people, but no, I haven’t really taken this step before…” 

You were staring down at his large hand engulfing yours as he then said, “you know, it’s okay if you don’t wanna go through with it. This field isn’t for everyone, in fact, only very few thrive in this environment, and if it’s not for you, then it’s okay.”

“Oh, no,” your eyes flickered up to find his as you urged, “I wanna do this, I really do. I’m sorry, I guess I just kinda got a bit more nervous than I expected.” 

“Hey, I get it,” he flashed you a comforting smile, “I’m a complete stranger. You just shook my hand two seconds ago and now we’re expected to bang in front of a bunch of other people you also don’t know,” his broad thumb swept over your knuckles, “you just have to decide if you wanna pack up your things, go home and chalk this up to just a fun experience, a lesson learned about what corners your sexuality and such does and does not stretch to,” he uttered with sincerity, “or you can come back inside and we can make some magic happen. It’s up to you.” 

“So, Cherry,” Bruce purred behind the camera as he knelt on the floor beside where you sat at the foot of the bed, “I can’t believe we finally convinced you to come have some fun with us. I gotta tell you, you are just a fucking dream come true…”

“Oh, thank you,” you smiled, kicking your feet slightly as they dangled over the edge. 

“But you must get that all the time, I mean, look at you.”

“It has been known to happen on occasion,” you chuckled, thinking back to all of the lewd compliments the viewers of your streams generously tossed at you. 

“So, a little birdy told me that this is your very first time fucking on camera. Is that true?”

“Yeah, it is,” you bit down on your bottom lip, “I’m so ready to pop that cherry.”

“Oh, you are, are you?” he smirked, panning the bulky camera over your frame as you tilted your head in a nod, “you’re just ready to show the whole world what a perfect slut you are?”

“Think it’s about time,” you giggled in response. 

“Well, then why don’t you do something for me and stand up?” he shifted back a bit as you got up from the bed, “and now, I’ve already seen it, but can you please turn around and show everyone how fucking perfect your ass is?” a grin stayed fast on your face as you slowly spun around. Your butt was barely covered in the tiny shorts that clung around your hips, so when you twisted and let the camera catch that part of you, Bruce quietly groaned, “wow…” and he shifted his grip to let one of his hands float up towards you, “can I touch you?” 

“Sure,” you arched your back a bit to make his palm’s journey that much shorter. 

“Damn… this has got to be one of the greatest booties I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” he offered your softness a brief squeeze. His fingers first dented one cheek, then the next, before his grip caught your waistband and tugged your shorts up just a tad bit more, making the fabric momentarily rub against your covered pussy.

His flat palm then scooped around your hips and guided you back to face the camera.

“Do you wanna see my boobs?” you smiled as you blinked down at him with big doe eyes, your hands gently grazing over the hem of your crop top.

“Oh, yes, please,” he virtually begged as he let his warm palm stay glued to your waist. 

Peeking down, you slowly lifted the shirt up and let your tits quite literally spill out as they jiggled slightly from the release of how fiercely you let the cotton graze over your skin. 

“Jesus christ…” you heard him utter as your palms fluttered down to play with them, squeezing the soft peaks gently before Bruce’s fingers sneaked up to pinch one of your nipples.

Once you’d put on a show and pushed the tiny shorts down your legs, the crotch of which had been slightly soaked since you weren’t wearing any panties underneath, you rested back down on the bed and spread your legs wide for the camera, grinning as the older man asked you to play with yourself. 

“Oh my god… I gotta tell you, I am so hard right now,” you watched how intently he stared at the small monitor, getting a closeup of how your fingers rubbed your little clit, “you have no idea how tough it is not to just fuck you right now, it’s crazy…”

“Oh yeah?” you giggled, the melody of your want echoing throughout the room at every teasing touch you offered yourself, “how bad do you wanna fuck me?”

“So fucking bad…” he uttered in a nearly hypnotise tone. 

Continuing to circle your puffy pearl, your fingers briefly dipped down to tease your entrance, only shyly slipping inside before you swept back up. 

“You know what?” Bruce said as he then began to twist a bit to get the open door to the room into frame, “I have a little surprise for you,” and perfectly on queue, Ari appeared at the threshold, burly chest on show with just a pair of jeans hanging low on his hips. 

His stride was slow as he only stayed in the doorway a moment before sauntering over to where you sat, melted back and resting against the one forearm that propped you up. 

“Hey,” he smiled and plucked up your face as soon as it was within reach. 

“Hi,” you managed to utter just before he bent down and pressed his lips to yours in an unhurried and gentle kiss. 

He kissed you as if he had all the time in the world, like some dude wasn’t pressing a bulky camera closer to the intimate act, but like he was the lead in a PG romcom. 

When Ari withdrew, he let himself linger in your warmth, ever so slightly nuzzling his nose against your own as your fingers kept up the dizzying pattern you drew between your parted thighs. Tilting his head, his touch traced the length of your arm till his reach came down to aid your efforts, making you gasp from the way he caressed you. 

“You,” he nudged his nose gently against your own, “look like you’re in need of some cock in that little mouth of yours.”

Letting out a soft chuckle, you said, “you read my mind,” before popping the button of his jeans and tugging the zipper down. Even though you’d seen his famed cock numerous times on screen before, it truly was something else to witness it in person. A breathy, “holy shit,” left your lips as you tried to wrap your fingers around his girth, though he only let out a soft laugh at the way your eyes grew wide. 

Ceasing the caress he drew between your thighs, he instead grabbed the base of his heavy length with his fingers still glossy from your arousal. As you stuck out your flat tongue, he tapped the weight against you for a second before you tilted your chin and wrapped your lips around the bulbous head.  

As you disappeared into the meditative motion of slobbering all over his cock, gradually taking more and more of his intimidating length, your frame twisted to lay on your side and face him more. 

Blinking up into his hooded eyes as the corners of your lips burned from the severe stretch, you felt his hips begin to move, rolling to meet your every bob, till his fingers tangled in your hair and he got to take over completely, fucking your face till slobber dribbled down your chest and rained down on your crop top, still tugged up and framing your tits. 

His free hand then snaked its way back down your body and cracked your legs open wide for the camera to see as he plugged your pussy up with two of his fingers, making you moan around his girth as the tip of him bruised your throat. 

When he yanked your mouth off of his cock, he did so with a gravelly growl, like he could have lived in your silky warmth and it pained him to say goodbye so soon. 

“Come here,” he grabbed you and flipped you around for your frame to face him as his feet stayed planted on the side of the bed. Kicking his jeans the rest of the way off, you panted up at him as you scooted even closer, nearly letting your butt hang off the mattress’ edge as you laid already crumbled and folded before him, utterly bewitched by the anticipation of what his legendary size must feel like stretching your poor pussy out. 

Shimmery spiderwebs of your nectar clung to him as he then let you feel the weight of him tap against your puffy pearl, briefly skimming through your folds before he found your eyes and tipped down, nudging to catch your weeping entrance. 

“Oh my g-god…” you gasped, all of the air escaping your body to accommodate as he slowly pressed just the tip inside. Your cunt clung around his dick as he gave you a second to catch your breath. Your pulse throbbed in your pussy as your silky walls moulded around him and your thighs gently trembled from the intensity of it all. 

“Fuck,” he groaned as he gave you another inch, “you feel so good,” gently stuffing more of his length inside. 

His grip dented your trembling thighs as he held you open for the camera to see how you struggled to take his cock. Even when the tip of him kissed your cervix and made you feel as if he was all the way up in your fucking throat, when you hazily gazed down to see where he split you apart, there was still a generous inch of him that your little pussy just couldn’t take. 

As your eyes lingered a little longer, you too caught sight of how a dull bulge formed in the lower part of your belly, perfectly timed with each of his mind-numbing thrusts. 

When you then tumbled over the edge, nearly blind from the overwhelming pleasure, your pussy couldn’t help but accidentally gush around Ari’s girth, simply because of how mind-boggling he felt. 

“Oh, shit,” you panted. Still in your orgasmic daze, you swiftly cast a worried glance up at Bruce steady behind the camera, “I’m sorry,” you briefly broke the scene as Ari too paused his movements as you breathlessly spoke, “I really tried not to squirt, I know that wasn’t part of today’s plan, but–, fuck…” your eyes fluttered up to find Ari’s, “your dick’s just so goddamn big,” you hazily giggled. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Bruce’s voice washed over you as you watched a smile tug at Ari’s lips, “that was just an unplanned bonus.”

“Wait, so you’re not mad?” your neck twisted to cast a glance at the director. 

“No,” he swiftly shook his head and flashed you a reassuring smile to calm the obvious anxiety that had bubbled up inside of you. 

“Oh, good,” you let out a sigh, “sorry, I just got nervous for a second. Okay, alright, we can keep going.”

“You good?” Ari checked before he cracked out of his frozen form. 

“Yep, yep, I’m okay, I’m wonderful,” you chuckled and let the last bit of nerves wash away. 

“Alright,” he dipped down to press a soft kiss to your lips, before his hands guided your arms around his neck, slinking them around him. 

His grasp then scooped down under you and he effortlessly plucked you up off the bed, a shy yelp bubbling up from your lungs as he picked your frame up to cradle you in his arms, his massive cock still lodged inside of you, though when he settled you in his strong hold, it felt as if he found a mystical way to slide even deeper. 

Moans flowed from your lips and vibrated against his skin as your neck soon gave up and lent your cheek to smoosh against his fuzzy chest. 

“There you go,” he stood up tall and bounced you in his arms like you were a toy, just a cocksleeve for him to get off with, “there you fucking go…”

As he picked up the pace and truly gave you a taste of how a real pornstar pounded a pussy for the camera, your eyes screwed shut tight and you felt yourself float away on a cloud, curled up in Ari’s burly arms and surrounded in a storm of your collective moans. The existence of the video camera even faded from your reality as you peeled your eyes open and peeked up at Ari from the pillow of his pec, knowing full well that he too could feel how you began to clench around his cock once more. 

“You gonna cum again?” he repeatedly lifted you up and down on his fat girth, “you gonna be a good girl and cream all over my cock, huh?”

Blinking up at him, your brows crinkled in pleasure as you nodded, “uh-huh.”

“You think you can squirt again for me?” his grip dug into the plush of your ass hard enough for it to leave marks. 

“I-I don’t know–”

“Oh, I think you can,” he switched up his pattern, slowing down slightly and dragging you all the way up till his cock nearly slipped out of you, only to sink you back down in such a rough, yet intensely slow manner, that it made your eyes roll in your skull, “just listen to that,” he smirked at the soft sloshing sound that sinfully echoed as his fat girth repeatedly slid against your g-spot, virtually bullying it till you surrendered, “it’s like she’s begging me to just spend the rest of the day making her gush over and over again until you fucking pass out…”

A shrill cry escaped your form as you let go once more, shaking in Ari’s grasp as Bruce knelt down to capture your sinful drizzle.  

You nearly felt drunk, like you were hours into the best party of your life, when you eventually found yourself planted on the floor, quaking legs unsteady beneath you as you blinked up at Ari, looming above you and furiously fucking his fist. 

“You want me to cum all over that pretty little face?” he grunted as you hazily stuck out your tongue. 

“Yes,” the corners of your lips blissfully curled up into a grin, “please–”

Even though your bones had turned into jelly and your pussy clenched in soreness, the drawn-out moan that rumbled in Ari’s chest as hot ropes of his cum then shot out and painted your features sent tingles throughout your body and filled you with a desire to just wrestle him back down onto the mattress, hit rewind and do it all over again. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[mv1simp]

inspired by my fav @piastrification thank you for being in my walls 🫶🫶 hope you enjoy!!

Streets ♥️

Max Verstappen x PR Manager!Reader

we play our fantasies out in real life ways, and no final fantasy, can we end these games, though?

6 months ago, F1 champion Max Verstappen traded in his status as "serious cat dad with road rage issues" for "Genius. Playboy. Millionaire. Philanthropist". Since then you've been fighting absolute demons as his PR manager to keep his reputation clean in the media. After you tell him you've had enough, he proposes a very interactive solution to your problem.

Content includes: Humour, crackfic, fluff, so much sexual tension, 18+ MDNI, smut, playboy!max, exasperated manager! reader, a very well rounded fic for once?! 4.7k WC

If someone asked you where it’d all gone downhill, you’d have to say it started because of that greedy paparrazi rat Henri - photographer at the MonacoDaily, otherwise known as every PR manager’s sleep paralysis demon. Because this particular paparazzo had a nasty knack for capturing celebrities just as they made the most atrocious decisions known to mankind. And he had an even nastier knack for threatening to sell said photos to the highest bidder. Truly, it was a dark day for any media team when they were forced to bargain with such a foul demon, who’d be able to go toe to toe with the likes of Satan himself.

So when your phone dinged at 5am on a peaceful Sunday morning, only to reveal the 7th (7th!!) message this month from the very same greedy little rat, you threw it across the room. Only to then remember you devastatingly had not been born into a Dubai oil family and you needed this job to pay Monaco rent. The text turns out to be a photo of your aggravating client - Max Verstappen, F1 champion driver, loving father to two cats, and more recently, certified manwhoreTM. He’s living upto your nickname for him, pictured in some nightclub with a half naked blonde sitting on his lap. Alright, alright, not as bad as you were expecting, you could even photoshop the girl’s hair colour to match his current girlfriend’s one maybe? Well, except the brunette woman glaring behind him is his current model girlfriend of the month. You hear a ding, another text from Henri - this time with just a 😈 and 💸👀. You throw the phone back against wall.

Three hours later you’ve cleaned up the PR nightmare and are banging on Max’s apartment door. He blearily lets you in, shirtless and still looking half drunk, but you don’t hesitate to yank him by his beltloops and drag him to the dining table (after quickly checking out that broad chest of his, though, cause goddamn. You’re just a girl.)

Ow, ow, what the hell, Max groans as he’s shoved into a chair. Please. As if you could do any real damage in your 5 foot frame to the 6 foot driver. Slamming your hands on the table for some dramatic flourish (you’re never beating the theatre kid allegations) you give the Dutchman a piece of your mind, demanding to know what his problem is, does he know how many people you’ve had to bribe this month to stop #SluttyMaxEra trending on twitter?? And yes, you know he broke up with Kelly 10 months ago but can’t he just process this healthily and go to therapy instead of having a hoe phase and hooking up with every third woman in Monaco?

Max looks insulted at this slight to his honor. He retaliates by accusing you of buying into the patriarchy and slut shaming him (-That’s not how that works but pop off king, is your deadpan response), and telling you he’s very much over Kelly, okay, it was an amicable breakup (-Sure, Verstappen, that’s why you’d only played Lana Del Ray for a whole month afterwards, huh?) and well, what’s the issue, he’s a hot and rich guy in Monaco, it’s not his fault women just want him? Would it not be #misogynistic of him to deny women the opportunity to explore their sexuality?! He smirks, pleased with his defence.

You groan, slumping down on a chair and burying your face in your hands, muffling your groan of wholesome cat dad Max comeback whennn. Max rolls his eyes at your theatrics, asking if you’d finally lost the plot.

You try cleaning up the PR messes you’ve been making, Max Emilian, you hiss furiously, remember Ibiza? Santorini? The goddamn yacht party over summer break when he got with the captain and her deputy?! (Even now, thinking of that leaking online gives you heartburn.)

Which yacht, Max says cockily, the one where he got with them one after another or at the same time?

Your jaw drops. You hadn’t even known about the threesome, so you suppose you should be grateful that wasn’t another mess to clean up. But a deeper, insecure part of you can’t help but wonder why the only woman Max doesn’t seem to want is you.

And sometimes you can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to be one of his girls, under his strong body for once instead of on the other side of his hotel wall, having to drown out the very satisfied female moans and headboard bangs with noise cancelling headphones. Like always, you push that thought down quickly.

You, good sir, are for the streets, you announce, standing up and deciding it was time to leave before your delulu, jealous thoughts decided to resurface. Seriously, you mutter under your breath, you didn’t care if his current side quest was to fuck 10 times a week, but could he at least stick to one person for a bit and not make more work for you-

Max’s hand slams the front door back closed as you started to open it. You freeze, turning back to look at him smirking down at you. You hadn’t expected him to follow you down the hallway and you gulp nervously for the safety of your job - you might have taken the roasting a bit too far.

Instead, you get a sly, Oh, so I can do whatever I want, wherever I want, just with one person?

At your awkward nod, because yes, that would significantly ease your workload, he continues, enjoying teasing his uptight, pretty manager - then were you gonna offer yourself up? After all, there’s no PR messes to find out about if it’s you, right?

You blink at Max, completely stunned by the 180 this conversation has taken. Your expression is so adorable that he couldn’t resist a you’re so cute when you’re acting all jealous, you could’ve just asked if you wanted him to fuck you, ya know?

That promptly reminds you you’re dealing with an an absolute manwhore. RIP celibacy era Max, you’ll always be famous.

Um, absolutely fucking not, keep your STDs to yourself, you hiss, flushing head to toe, and furious at the desire in you to give into the devilish proposal. He encourages you to think about it, still smirking, relaxing his grip so you can mercifully flee far away from his intense gaze. Jesus, when did he learn to rizz a girl up like that?!

You don’t take his proposal seriously at all, ignoring his cocky looks at you over meetings all week (also, he’d texted you his clean STD result to assure you he was a #SafeSexKing.) But that weekend, your refusal comes back to haunt you when you’re on a well deserved night out with your girlfriends and your PR manager senses start going off. You narrow your eyes as you spot Max in the dark corner of the nightclub, hands all over a mystery redhead. She’s not going to be a mystery much longer though - if you’d spotted them it was a matter of time before fan’s phones did and then you’d wake up to another goddamn text from your sleep paralysis demon, Henri.

You don’t even have to think about it twice. Saying goodbye to your friends, you’re at Max’s side at a very impressive speed given your 6 inch stilettos and tight sparkly minidress, and once again dragging him off by the beltloops and into an open bathroom.

He lets you yank him away, smirking when he sees you lock the door for good measure. Sweetheart, he greets. So good to see you. Finally realised you couldn’t resist me?

You practically climb him like a tree while telling him to shut the fuck up and pay attention at media training day next time, because what kind of PR crisis did he have unfolding out there? And just this once you’ll help him out, you say breathlessly in between deep kisses, but this isn’t a regular thing -

There’s not much more talking from you because he has you moaning up against the wall next, fingers buried inside your tight little pussy as he talks you through an orgasm, and then another when he splits you in half on his cock. (Once again, manwhore, who carries a condom in their jean pockets?!)

Unfortunately for your self control but very fortunately for your sex life, it is not in fact, a “one time thing”. Your trusty rose vibrator is glad for the break as you’d been taking your year long frustrations at your dry spell out on her. Especially when coming home after staying in hotels where you’d had to book out rooms neighbouring Max’s, so no one else overheard the raunchy vocals of different women every night.

Like Max said, with you, there were no more illicit PR messes to find out about in the middle of the night. You’d redirect him everytime he gave you bedroom eyes (At the pre race debrief. Post race debrief. Weekly team plan meeting. Over zoom calls? Seriously?) - gently taking his large hand and guiding him to a much more hidden, PR crisis-friendly area. To your surprise, Max actually sticks to his word and only hooks up with you - admittedly, multiple times a week (Not that you’re complaining. Turns out he was just as good in bed as he was on the track. Except this time he was definitely not finishing first...)

And for a while, everything is going well. There are no more weekly scandals scattered across trashy celeb magazines about Max. Your boss is gushing with praise, so impressed that you’ve finally managed to talk some sense into Redbull’s problem child (ah, if only she knew, but she never would, because the goddamn CIA couldn’t torture this info out of you) and best of all, you haven’t gotten a text from papparazzi rat Henri in weeks!

So of course, Max Verstappen decides that things are getting just a little bit too quiet for his liking, you had to earn your generous PR manager salary, that he paid for, right? His new, numerous tactics to stir the pot had included:

Going to clubs with no private bathrooms so you’d had to sit on his lap in the VIP lounge as he pulled your panties to the side to slide into you, barely hidden under your flimsy dress. You’d held back your moans and prayed the bass was too loud for anyone to hear

Sitting right next to you at every team dinner or business meeting so that he could sneak a large hand up your thigh and tease your pussy for fucking hours, often just as you were about to speak. And when you’re clenching the table so hard your fingers were white, he’s bending under the table to pick up a pen or something but instead left teasing licks and kisses on your aching core. You'd learnt very quickly not to wear a skirt.

Picking you up in his 2 seater Aston Martin instead of the much more appropriate discreet, spacious, 5 seater Audi he owned - so when he was too pent up after a bad practise session to wait till he got home, he'd get you to go down on him right there in the car, sometimes even as he drove, instead of parking in some hidden backstreet. It was so dirty, that he needed you so desperately that he didn't care about being caught by anyone peeking in through the half tinted windows. Because if they did look, they’d find his head thrown back in pleasure as he moans, his fingers tangled in your curls as he moved your drooling, pink lips up and down his wide cock-

Anyways, you get the picture. And he’d escalated this all the way to the paddock, which was insane because there were always multiple cameras trained on the current F1 champion. It’s the one place you two couldn’t sneak off without a very high risk of being caught, as evidenced by the one and only time he'd managed to get under your skin in the garage. He'd had you pinned up against the wall in some narrow side hallway as he whispered how fucking sexy you’d looked today, wearing his hoodie to cover up the hickies you hadn’t realized you’d woken up with and paired with some tiny denim shorts. Having the 6 foot champion huskily groan that he couldn’t focus on his free practise everytime you bent over to pet a passing dog, or when you innocently sucked on the Redbull flavoured lollipops and then the goddamn ice cream from the truck they’d brought in - was quite the power trip, you admit. So you guided his lips from your neck as he tries to add to the growing bruises on your neck and redirected him to your waiting lips instead, steamily making out as his large hands squeezed your thick ass like he’d been thinking about all day-

Max?!?

You instantly pull back from the driver and turned to see a flabbergasted looking GP - Max’s race engineer. His jaw is wide open as he looked at you two with round eyes. You’re fumbling to explain, trying and failing to push Max back - who looks rather annoyed at the intrusion and semi-glares at GP with narrow eyes. You hiss at the younger man to stop being rude and slip underneath his arms, going over to guiltily apologise to GP only to be met with You too?! How did he get you in his bed, you hated how much of a slut he was! Seriously, does he have a magical dick? Now you stare at GP in shock, unsure of how to respond to his question while Max starts laughing behind you. You make him join you as you promise to GP that he will never have to witness this again, because there will be no unprofessional behaviour of any sort on the paddock after "BootyShorts Gate" as you thereafter dub the incident. Regardless, GP still shoots you both wary glances and begins the habit of announcing his arrival and waiting 10 seconds before turning a corner in the garage, earning him many an odd look. Dramatic, really, was this where Max gets it from?

Max, of course, was very displeased with this new “professionalism” rule you'd set down - on the paddock was when he'd get the most tense, the most horny and desperate to have you underneath him, after all - and he made sure you knew it. You deliberately ignored his heated gaze on you as you interviewed him, or his lingering touches when he helped you hold your microphone up to his much taller frame, large hand wrapped around your small ones clutching the mic. Or his recent favourite, which involved standing next to you to help pick out the insta pics post-race (something he'd notoriously always hated to do) - except now, he conveniently happened to be shirtless, his toned abs and broad shoulders on display, running a hand through his sweaty tousled hair.

This last seduction tactic had sent you fleeing to Checo's garage to seek out the other Redbull driver's PR manager and beg on your knees for a client swap, surely, the sponsor benefits are legendary for whoever Max's PR manager is -

Nope. Nuh uh, no way, Checo is the breeziest driver ever to look after. The other manager pauses. Well, except for the occasional political military coup scandal in Mexico. But still, I'd take that any day over El Manwhore.

You wailed at whatever Gods had decided to curse you and took matters into your own hands, furiously plotting up social media campaign idea after idea that were exactly the kind of thing Max hated with a burning passion - hoping it would get him to back off on his tactics and wave a white flag. From viral TikTok challenges, to making him read all his cringe 2008 tweets, and even making him play fuck, marry, kill with the drivers of the grid. You'd admit, that last one had been rather funny to watch, making you chuckle as you scrolled through the comments, liking "Can't believe we got Max Verstappen saying he would fuck Lewis, kill Pierre and marry Charles before GTA 6" and "does Redbull admin know she posted this on main?!"

But despite your best efforts, it didn't seem to deter Max. If anything, he'd begrudgingly do the task and end up laughing excitedly at you - who was holding the camera - about some joke or the other and make your stupid heart flutter. You knew you definitely should not be catching feelings for your client - who'd made it very clear his interest in you was only physical. But no one needed to know that sometimes you’d log into your fake account to like the "Who got max giggling and kickin his feet and shii?" comments.

Meanwhile, Max had caught wind of your desperation for an escape attempt with Checo’s manager and had upped the ante. He slyly mentioning to Christian Horner than you were doing such a great job as his PR manager, could he pretty please have you promoted to his general manager for his non racing publicity too?

And that's how you found yourself at a Dior Sauvage photoshoot, despite your adamant protests to Horner. You were putting your Masters of Business Adminstration, first class honours, to fantastic use by babysitting a 26 year old child who liked fast cars that went vroom vroom. The only redeeming factor is that you can leave the unflattering Redbull shirt at home since this wasn't for F1 publicity and instead wear a nice outfit for once. Still, you thought it was odd that Max had so easily accepted this campaign, as he wasn't normally one to enjoy doing PR.

A few minutes later you've figured out exactly why your favourite manwhore had agreed to this campaign, because he's grinning at you while posed shirtless, toned abs and broad shoulders all on display as some pretty, busty model is draped over him. The photographer is making this even more painful for you by dragging out the shoot, making Max and the model reposition herself multiple times. You roll your eyes at the scene, because obviously they're two very attractive people who will look good together no matter what, did the photographer really need to be so extra? You stalk off at some point to make yourself a hot chocolate in the hopes it'll sooth the flames of jealousy that are threatening to consume you right now. Max approaches you when a break is called, running a teasing hand along your waist from the back and whispering you looked so fucking hot in this tight maxi dress, making you nervously look around to see if anyone noticed. Luckily, all the staff appeared busy and didn’t look in the dim corner you'd settled into to do paperwork. You hiss at him to keep your hands to yourself, Verstappen making him grin and inform you that's not what you’d said last night, in fact, you were practically begging for him to do the exact opposite-

You're glaring up at him, seriously contemplating if it’s worth breaking your contract clause to "act in the client's best interests" and mauling him with your laptop when the photographer comes up to you both with narrowed eyes. You guiltily step back, thinking he overhead Max's suggestive comments, but instead he just looks back and forth between you two contemplatively. Then, just as you were about to ask him what the issue was, he announces that you'd be replacing the model as the female for the shoot. No questions asked! he announces as you try to protest and snaps his fingers at the makeup and wardrobe artists to demand they sort you out (he gestures rather dramatically to your whole figure when he says this, making you scowl).

So that's how you find yourself dressed in a silky gold minidress with a sultry eye look, pressed up against Max's broad chest and trying not to focus on the intimate position you two are in. Max, however, has no such qualms about the position, using it to tease you further. You've been looking extra tense lately, sweetheart, he breathes, those devilish lips brushing past your ear. I know a great way to make you relax? You growl at him to shut the fuck up because oh my god, did he know how many cameras are pointed at you both right now? Besides, you mutter under your breath, it seemed like he was very interested in relaxing with that blonde model earlier.

Fighting to keep the smug look of his face, Max whispers back that there was No need to be jealous, schatje, you were the only one getting access to his magical dick. So caught up in the game you two are playing, you don't even register the photographer excitedly snapping up pictures, proclaiming that he knew it, the chemistry between these two is unbelievable!

Afterwards, as you're walking off the photoshoot, feeling all hot and bothered from Max's hands running across your exposed skin, shamelessly looking you up and down, the blonde Dutchman catches up to you. He teases you that you were going to get wrinkles at 25 if you didn't stop scowling all the time. I'm older than you, you scoff back, by a whole 6 months, in fact, so maybe you should actually listen to me for once instead of pissing me off? No problem, Max agrees, after all, he's always had a thing for MILFs. You can't help snort at his retort and then start laughing when he tries to maintain an innocent look. At least you were away from the cameras in case someone heard this, you mused.

Unfortunately, you both don't notice MonacoDaily's ratbag paparrazo, Henri, hiding in nearby shrubbery with his camera. It had been far too long without a Verstappen news scandal, he thought with a satisfied smirk as he clicked away.

And later than night, after you'd eaten the chicken stir fry he'd cooked and rewatched Cars 2 (a surpassingly more regular occurrence, these days, to unwind with him at the end of the day instead of immediately being mauled the second you stepped foot in his apartment) you made sure he followed your orders for once. Sitting him back, telling him just how bad he'd been today with all his teasing (-well, it worked, didn't it, sweetheart?) you showed him just how good you were at playing the game, too. And soon, he was breathlessly moaning underneath you as you rode him for the first time, gripping his cock like you were going to milk every last drop, teasing him with just enough pace to get him worked up but not enough to send him over the edge. And you only let him cum inside you when he begged you sweetly, making you go fuzzy at the sight of the infamous Redbull playboy being so desperate for you, and only you.

Afterwards, once you've shampooed each other's hair in the shower while gossiping about how catty that makeup artist had been, really, to imply that your pretty curls had been the problem and not her shitty styling? and Max has got you spooned against him, warm in an old hoodie of his, pressing a goodnight kiss to your forehead, you can't control the warmth blossoming in your chest any longer. And as a content sleep takes a hold of you, you can't help but wonder if Max's affections went beyond physical attraction, just like yours’ were now doing.

It turned out the opportunity to find out this answer would come the very next day, when the ding of your phone wakes you up in the early hours of the morning. It’s a very specific sound that you've set for a certain ratbag - and you get war flashbacks, hearing it now after so long. Scrambling off the bed, ignoring Max's muffled groans as you shove his heavy arm of you, you unlock your phone and gasp in horror as your suspicions are confirmed. Henri has arisen from the ashes and this time it's to deliver his sauciest scandal yet. Because a picture tells a 1000 words, sure, but he has the two of you on a goddamn video, flirting and giggling at each other as you exited the studio yesterday. There's no chance of you talking your way out of this one, as Max's large palm wanders to give your thick ass a firm squeeze as he guides you into his passenger seat. Goddamn, you knew you shouldn't have worn that tempting skims maxi dress - Max was an ass (and tits) man who couldn't be trusted to control himself in public. BTW already sold this 🥸 Henri texts. Just a courtesy FYI cuz I brought a boat with the bag from this one ✌️

You contemplate if it would be better to disappear off the face of the planet, or get plastic surgery to become unrecognisable as you chug your morning Redbull while moodily looking over the Monaco sunrise. Max joins you after a few minutes, looking extremely cute as he rubs the sleep out of his baby blue eyes and asks you what's wrong, schatje.

Taking a deep sigh (like you said, #DramaKid), you break the news. I’m going to hold your hand while I say this (- that’s really not necessary, Max interrupts) - but you know celibacy exists, right? As does having sex in a private location without the risk of being arrested for public indecency?

True, Max agrees, but what was the fun in that? Besides, you were just too hot to resist. Ignoring the butterflies at his cheesy flirting, you hold up the incriminating video on your phone as proof that it was not all fun and games, as Henri had already sold this to multiple news outlets this morning, you inform glumly. Max is strangely silent, looking intently at the video and even replaying it a few times, his eyes crinkling as a soft smile appears on his face when he hears the sound of you two laughing. Then - in a truly unbelievable redemption arc plotline from the Monaco playboy - he asks if it would be so terrible, to have this made public, to let the world know that you were together?

Well, I - you stumble over your words, - I dunno, I thought you liked that? Keeping it secret cause you just wanted a convenient hook up?

Max is silent again. Then, looking uncharacteristically nervous, he says that's not what he wants, not really, not anymore - not since he'd fallen in love with you, somewhere along the 3 months of the friends with benefits/PR manager and her problematic client situationship you’d had. And like at the very start, you don’t even need to think about it twice. This time when you shyly smile and kiss him, you make sure he can feel your love through it and know that you wanted more, too.

So you walk into work that morning, holding hands in open defiance, ready for the world to see. You’re rather confused when no one seems to be paying much attention, instead frantically trying to get the set up ready for the pre race testing. Maybe you two had not been as indiscreet as you thought and people already suspected? Or maybe you both had a penchant for drama and thought you were the main characters when you clearly were not?

You look at each other, shrug, and you give him a kiss on the cheek and tell him you’ll see him for lunch at the kebab shop on the corner, before he wanders off to the garage. Maybe Henri had a change of heart and decided not to exploit innocents for fame and money, you ponder hopefully. Maybe there truly was good in the world, after all.

And then you hear your name being called and turn to see your boss standing behind you menacingly, hands on hips. Care to explain why #MaxLovesMILFS is trending right now?

Somewhere along the Monaco waterfront, a paparazzi rat skulking in the bushes sneezes.

—————————————————————————

A/N: again thank you so much to @piastrification for inspiring this piece!! So sorry for the delay and I hope you enjoy my attempt at branching out to other fics xx tysm to you all for the requests, I am working them into my upcoming fics!! 💖

[cherrygirlfriend]

reader seeing bsf!rafe out with sofia

warnings: smutty and angsty, sending nudes, reader is jealous (real), MDNI kind of inspired by taste by sabrina carpenter !!! stream short n sweet

you didn't care that you were just supposed to be his best friend, seeing rafe with her always hurt you, and it was like there was a little green monster just pressing against your delicate heart.

you didn't get why he was with sofia. everything he did to you in the privacy of either of your bedrooms, every sweet word he whispered into your ear as you laid in his arms implied that he wasn't really in love with her. how could he be, when he kissed you like you were the only two people in the world? like he'd run out of breath if you wouldn't share yours with him?

but there he was, leaning against the bar of the country club, no doubt flirting with her. you clenched the little heart-shaped locket around your neck that he had given you like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. like it was an anchor, stopping you from drifting off to sea.

a part of you couldn't help but feel satisfied knowing that when she pressed her lips on his, she would unknowingly taste you on his tongue from the morning when it was buried deep in your cunt.

so, you made the decision to excuse yourself from your group of girlfriends, walking over to the ladies' room, and swiftly locking the door behind you. you pulled up your shirt to reveal the pink lacy bra, a pair that rafe had picked out for you, your phone in front of your chest set in selfie mode, a small purple hickey still on your left boob left by the boy the night before as you heard the shutter go off.

you knew he loved your breasts, whenever the two of you were laid up in bed he'd have one of his hands playing with them, he always loved licking, sucking, and kissing them, swearing that he could come from just having them in his mouth.

you pulled your shirt back down before making your way out of the bathroom, rejoining your friends. you searched for his contact in your phone, his contact picture a photo of you two kissing.

there was a self-satisfied smile on your face as you sent rafe a few of the pictures, taking a sip of your drink as you watched from across the room as he dug through his pockets for his phone, his brows furrowing when he looked down at the screen.

you knew the second he opened the message, his eyes widening as he quickly pocketed his phone, repositioning his shorts slightly as he looked around the country club, when he finally spotted you, you smiled, biting down on your lower lip before you positioned the straw between your lips, sucking some of the drink into your mouth, waving coyly at the boy

when rafe' face hardened and he narrowed his eyes, you knew in that moment that your stunt wouldn't go unpunished. and you knew you'd enjoy every second of his punishment.

[thetriumphantpanda]

mine, all mine | joel miller

Summary | You & Joel have been skirting around whatever this is for years, until he finally breaks and calls it what it is, in the only way he knows how.

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 1.2K

Warnings | Post-Outbreak, Jackson!Joel, possessive!Joel, rough sex, spit play, unprotected PiV sex, cumshot, cumplay, dirty talk, emotionally unavailable Joel, it's basically just 1.2k of filth tbh, no use of y/n

Authors Note | This one goes out to @undercoverpena who gave me the means to rewatch TLOU. This was the outcome. Enjoy the filth.

Divider by @saradika

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

He’s got your wrists caught together in one of his big hands, pressed down into the mattress to keep you still. Your thighs splayed wide, pressed down almost uncomfortably by the width of his hips. His cock is splitting you open and you’re so impossibly wet that you can hear it whenever he pushes himself back into you. He likes it, wild grin on his face whenever that lewd squelch makes itself known, he likes that only he can do this to you, only he can make you this wet, only he can get you to submit so completely like this.

It’s been two years of this. Two years of being pressed into his bed in the dead of night. Two years of dancing around what this is, but enjoying it all the same. You don’t think you need to label it, complicate it, not when it feels this good. You’d happily go the rest of your days not knowing what you and Joel Miller are if it means he’s going to stay like this. It started as stress relief, a lot like how it had been with the other people here in Jackson that had fallen into your bed - him, frustrated from patrol or whatever it was going on with Ellie, you, frustrated with… well, mostly everything these days. When he’s inside you, there are no frustrations, only the low thrum of pleasure across your skin.

Things have changed though, maybe in the past six months. He stands closer to you when you’re at the bar, sometimes puts a hand on the small of your back when someone else tries to talk to you. Subtle messages that say back the fuck off or she’s mine without needing to put real words to it. He doesn’t say it, even here, when he’s deep inside you, doesn’t beg you to tell him who you belong to, but then you suppose he doesn’t have to - you’ve not fucked anyone else since this started, no-one would hold a candle to him, and you know he doesn’t fuck anyone else either.

“You hear that?” His gruff voice asks, pulling you back to the present as his cock drags from your cunt, pushing back in slowly, and you do, that squelch of him pushing back inside you as deep as he can fit, you throw your head back, moan his name, “Yeah you do,” His face buries into your neck, teeth dragging across delicate skin, “Hear how wet I gotcha?”

You let your eyes open, fluttering slowly to reveal how close he is to your face. He’s so fucking beautiful like this - skin covered in sweat, brows pinched together in pleasure, his scars and his wrinkles visible so closely, the grey in his beard and the smattering of hair on his chest pressed against yours, you won’t ever grow tired of this.

“S-so fucking g-good, Joel.” You choke out on another drag of his cock, tip pressed right against the depths of you, dragging deliciously against that spot inside you.

“I know, baby, I know,” He coos, nudging the side of your face with his nose, hot breath so close to your ear as he continues the languid strokes of himself in and out of your spent cunt, “Bein’ so good f’me.”

His praise never fails to make you preen, face rolling to the side, exposing the side of your neck to him that he hasn’t already marked. You feel the tight grip around your wrists loosen, his hand taking hold of your chin instead, pulling you back to look at him, brown eyes glazed almost black with lust as he looks down at you. There’s something different there this time, sure he’s always been intense, but he’s looking at you this time like he wants to devour you whole - to cut you open and eat you from the inside.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” He whispers, hand around your face moving to shake you so your focus is on him and not on the way his thrusts have started getting harder, “Say it.”

“M’yours,” You manage to get out, but he shakes your head again, “Yours, m’yours Joel.”

“That’s right,” He bends, hand still gripping your chin, and licks into your mouth, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, teeth nipping gently, “My girl.”

You almost can’t believe it, like this is some kind of dream, your wildest fantasy come true that he does want you, that it’s not just your pussy he covets but everything else you bring.

“Y-you mean it?” You speak, breathless, “I’m yours?”

You bring a hand up to his face now, cradling a cheek, thumb tracing his bottom lip, but he’s shaking your hand away, his own still tight against your face, “Open your mouth,” but you’re confused about why, so it takes you a while for your brain to catch up, “Open your damn mouth baby.”

This time you do, lips parted, tongue out, Joel’s fingers sitting in the hinges of your jaw, dragging your head forward a little, then, he purses his lips, opens his mouth and lets his saliva drip from his own mouth into your, caught on the flat of your tongue. It’s hot, probably the hottest thing he’s even done. You curl your tongue over it, dragging your mouth closed to swallow it down, then, you open your mouth, stick your tongue back out and look him straight in the eye to ask for more.

“Fuckin’ filthy,” He mutters, but there’s a grin on his face, his cock still pounding into you, the feeling of your slick, made more by what he’d just down, gathering at the base of his cock, dripping down onto the sheets below, “Y’like that, huh?”

“Uh-huh.” Is the only thing you can get out before he’s doing it again, letting his own spit drip from his mouth into yours.

This time though, he doesn’t give you the option to swallow it. He lets go of your face, his tongue melding with yours at the precise spot that his spit had just landed on. It’s a filthy, wet, open-mouthed kiss, saliva gathering in your corners of your mouth as you moan into his when he shifts his hips just a little, tip of his cock now bruising into your cervix on every punch forward.

It happens all at once, his lips dragging from yours, his cock dragging out of your pussy as he pushes backwards, cock in his fist for barely a second before the first rope of his spend is spurting across your soaked and aching folds. Joel lets out a growl as the next lands across the soft skin of your tummy, the next between the valley of your tits. He’s dragging a tight fist up and down the length of his cock, squeezing lightly at his tip to empty himself of every drop of cum, painting your skin with it until he’s softening in his fist and you’re trying to catch your breath.

Joel lets his hands grip your hips, dragging his thumbs through the pools of cum across your lower body, rubbing gently through it to spread it as far as he can, “Look nice like this,” He muses, looking down at the mess he’s made of you, from the aching red hue of your spent cunt, to the milky white splashed across your body, “Mine.” He says, with a tone of finality.

��Yours.”

[st-el-la-luna]

Task Force 141 x Reader: Picture Day

NSFW 18+

When a guy keeps sending you unsolicited pictures, you impulsively reach out to your Task Force for help in an... Unconventional way.

→ harassment, non con receiving of nudes, asking for nudes, sending of nudes

You don't want to do this. Really, it's not ideal. It's rash, and impulsive and, oh, right, insanely fucking stupid.

But, you're a spiteful person at heart. And, well, this would be the perfect response...

So, you open the Task Force group chat, type up a message and press send before you can stop yourself.

CorvidCorporal: hey guys

CorvidCorporal: can I ask a favour?

You don't have to wait long for a reply.

Captain Price: What is it, Corporal?

Ghost: No

DontDropthe: you know where to find me 😉

Gazoline: everything okay?

You sigh, type up another message, worrying your lip between your teeth.

CorvidCorporal: it's nothing serious

CorvidCorporal: just... weird

Captain Price: What is it?

Gazoline: weird how?

You bury your face in your hands for a moment, considering if you're really about to do this. Your phone buzzes again, a notification from a different chat. You open it and holy shit, another one? Hell no. You're going through with this.

You head back to the Task Force group chat.

DontDropthe: weird is my specialty

You can't believe you're doing this.

You type and retype the message a couple of times before eventually just pressing send. You shut your phone off, face burning, not wanting to think about what you just did.

CorvidCorporal: I need a dick pic

The little markers on the bottom of the screen indicating people are typing vanish then start up again. Vanish. Start up again. Vanish.

Oh, you're fucked.

What the hell were you thinking?! These were your coworkers! Your superiors! Your boss!

You scramble to explain yourself.

CorvidCorporal: forget I said anything!

CorvidCorporal: it's just this guy keeps sending me them unsolicited from different accounts because I keep blocking his ass

CorvidCorporal: I figured the best way to get him to stop would be to send one back

CorvidCorporal: you know a real power move

CorvidCorporal: just really blindside em

CorvidCorporal: but well... I lack the parts and if I were just to go to google the guy could easily figure that shit out

CorvidCorporal: it was stupid and impulsive and I'm so sorry I asked

CorvidCorporal: please don't fire me I need this job

CorvidCorporal: guys?

The entire chat is dead. But their icons show that each and everyone of them is still active. Even Ghost.

You curse yourself internally and knock your head against the wall. You shut your phone off and toss it away. Too overwhelming. Too much. You can't... Why did you do that?!

You sit on the foot of your bunk and mourn your career, face in your hands. Dishonorable discharge no doubt in your future... You're such an idiot!

Your phone buzzes from across the room. You ignore it.

Except it buzzes again. And again. And again. And–

By the seventh text tone you go to pick it up, almost feeling sick from the nasty knot of anxiety and dread in your gut.

You open the group chat.

You close the group chat.

Holy shit.

DontDropthe: see attachment

DontDropthe: see attachment

DontDropthe: see attachment

Gazoline: jesus christ soap

Gazoline: see (2) attachments

DontDropthe: see (3) attachments

Fif– sixteen pictures. Two from Gaz and fourteen from Soap.

Holy shit.

Your phone goes off again.

Captain Price: Let me know if you need anything else, Corporal

Captain Price: see (3) attachments

What the fuck?

Soap has moved on to sending you pictures directly. You dismiss a call from him in a blind panic. He immediately sends a video.

You type into the group chat with shaking hands.

CorvidCorporal: thanks

Gazoline: anytime

DontDropthe: it's only fair if you send them back

DontDropthe: i understand if your shy

DontDropthe: my doors unlocked

Captain Price: *you're

In the end, you got more than enough material to choose from.

Three from Price. Seven from Gaz. A whopping twenty nine from Soap.

You're still deciding on what picture to send (and on calming your racing heart and ignoring the growing heat between your thighs) when your phone goes off again.

Ghost: see attachment

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masterlist!

[santaasi]

santa doesn’t know you like i do

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: in the warmth of christmas, amidst love, healing, and a new beginning, jj and you find your imperfect paradise, where home is wherever you're together

warnings: fluff fluff fluff, establish relationship, talking about kids, no use of y/n, jj calls reader angel, english isn’t my first language

word count: 5.4k

a/n: it's kinda part two to die with the smile. but I think you can read it as a stand alone. requested by this ask. thank u for request, love <з.

ᯓ★ now playing…

sabrina carpenter – santa doesn't know you like I do

Santa Doesn't know you like I do I've been there through the good and bad Know how to make you laugh Kiss all your tears away, babe Ooh, only I can do that

JJ MAYBANK ALWAYS LOVED CHRISTMAS. It was, perhaps, the only holiday that truly felt magical to him. The colorful lights that danced against the dark winter nights, the shop windows adorned with glittering displays, the endless loop of silly Christmas songs filling the air — each element wove a comforting cocoon of warmth around him. Christmas had a way of making the world seem softer, more forgiving, and in those moments, JJ could almost believe in something like peace.

But it hadn’t always been this way.

In the broken Maybank household, Christmas was just another day — unmarked, unnoticed, and devoid of joy. The house sat like an unlit beacon in a sea of festivity, its cold walls and empty halls an unspoken testament to everything JJ lacked. There were no strings of lights, no wreaths on the door, not even the faintest scent of pine. It was an iceberg of indifference, floating through a season of cheer.

His father rarely even bothered to come home during Christmas. Sometimes he was locked away, serving another term; other times, he was lost in some forgotten corner of a bar, drowning his bitterness in cheap whiskey, unaware — or perhaps unconcerned — that his son was alone.

Yet, despite it all, every Christmas morning, there was always something waiting for JJ. Beneath the sad excuse for a tree — a cactus he’d once rescued from the roadside and jokingly dubbed "the Maybank pine" — he’d find a small gift and a postcard. The presents were modest: a toy car from a roadside stall or a bag of store-brand candy. The cards bore messages scribbled in rushed handwriting, sometimes just his name. But to JJ, they were everything. Those tiny, clumsy gestures felt like a fragile thread connecting him to something hopeful, something magical.

Even in the coldest, loneliest moments of his childhood, Christmas held onto him. It was his reminder that even in a life as messy and cruel as his, there could still be flickers of wonder.

But as the years passed, the childish magic of Christmas began to fade. JJ found himself watching from the sidelines as families like John B’s, Pope’s, and Kiara’s gathered around large tables, their homes alive with laughter, love, and the glow of holiday cheer. He watched them string lights and hang delicate ornaments on real Christmas trees — the kind that had once mesmerized him through storefront windows. And as much as he tried to bury it, a quiet ache settled deep in his chest.

It wasn’t just envy. It was the sharp sting of absence, a longing for something he’d never truly had. JJ had never known the comfort of a family coming together, the warmth of being part of something whole. He’d never sat at a big table on Christmas Eve, hands joined in prayer, giving thanks for love and blessings. He’d never felt the security of being surrounded by people who cared for him simply because he existed. And though he masked the pain behind his signature grin and easy bravado, it festered inside him — a quiet storm of hurt and resentment.

He wanted what they had. He wanted it desperately. But instead, his Christmases were spent alone. A pack of chips served as his feast, the flickering light of a static-filled TV his only companion. Lying on his bed, he would flip through the sparse free channels, hoping for some distraction, some escape. And always, in the back of his mind, he clung to the faintest hope that come morning, he’d find a small gift beneath the cactus — his father’s feeble, unspoken attempt at connection.

For years, this was his Christmas: quiet, lonely, and hollow.

But then, one year, everything changed.

JJ was fourteen when his father was imprisoned for the first time for an extended period, leaving him utterly alone. John B. and his father did what they could to help, but JJ bristled at the idea of being anyone’s charity case. The weight of feeling indebted was too much for him to bear. That summer, he decided to fend for himself, searching for his first job.

It wasn’t easy. JJ quickly discovered that no one wanted to hire a scrappy, imperfect Pogue with a tarnished family name. The shadow of his father’s reputation loomed large over the island, and people assumed that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. He could still recall the sting of rejection, the way doors closed in his face, and the cold, judgmental eyes that dismissed him before he even had a chance to speak. With each failure, his hope dwindled, until desperation weighed heavy on his young shoulders.

And then, like a ray of sunlight breaking through storm clouds, your father entered his life.

JJ often saw him at the docks, heading out for early-morning fishing trips. A few times, when the catch was plentiful, your father had even handed JJ a couple of fish — no questions asked, no pity in his eyes. Your family wasn’t wealthy like the Camerons, but you weren’t struggling at the bottom of the Cut either. You lived modestly, running a small fishmonger’s shop that was well-loved by locals for its unmatched quality.

That day, as JJ sat dejectedly on the pier, contemplating yet another fruitless search, your father approached him. With a kind smile and no hesitation, he offered JJ a job. Weekend mornings spent fishing, helping with traps and unloading — the kind of honest work JJ had been searching for. It felt like a lifeline, a stroke of fortune for a fourteen-year-old boy who had nearly given up.

From that moment, your father became more than an employer. He became a steady presence in JJ’s life, someone who saw the good in him when others refused to look past the Maybank name. In time, he even became a friend — a surrogate father in ways JJ hadn’t realized he desperately needed.

Your family’s kindness extended beyond the job. Your father often invited JJ to join your family dinners, but JJ rarely accepted. The idea of intruding on something so warm and whole made him uncomfortable. He already felt like he owed your father too much, and the last thing he wanted was to overstep. Still, on the rare occasions when your mother’s insistence won out, JJ would find himself sitting at your table, silently marveling at the life you lived.

And then there was you.

At every dinner, JJ’s eyes inevitably found you. You were radiant, an unapproachable beauty that reminded him of the star atop a Christmas tree — brilliant and captivating, yet forever out of reach. The two of you didn’t talk much, just polite exchanges and fleeting smiles, but it was enough. For JJ, it was more than enough.

He fell for you quietly, deeply, and without reservation. To him, you were a dream — a glimpse of something he could never quite have but couldn’t help but long for.

But one day, everything changed — and with it, JJ’s love for Christmas was born.

It was the same year, during the heart of winter. JJ wandered aimlessly through the deserted streets of Kildare, his hands buried deep in his pockets as the howling sea wind tugged at his threadbare jacket. Shop windows, darkened in honor of the holiday, glimmered faintly with leftover lights, their cheerful displays feeling like a world apart from his reality. Everyone else was inside, basking in the warmth of family and celebration. His friends were home — John B. spending the day with his father, Pope and Kiara with their own families — while JJ walked the streets, searching for something he couldn’t name, a place where he belonged.

His own house was cold and hollow, a silent reminder of all he didn’t have. John B. had invited him over, but JJ declined, unwilling to intrude on his friend’s rare moments of peace with his dad. So, he drifted through the morning, each step pulling him deeper into an abyss of loneliness.

A sudden chime shattered his thoughts — the soft jingle of a shop bell as its door swung open. JJ looked up, his breath catching as the sound of laughter echoed down the street.

It was you.

You stepped out of the grocery store with your dad, your voice lilting with a joy that made the bleak morning feel brighter. A red knit hat perched on your head, mirroring the one your father wore, and you both sported matching festive pajama sets. The sight was almost absurdly charming, but to JJ, you looked radiant — more beautiful than ever. The soft sunlight seemed to halo around you, making you seem like an angel come to life.

As if sensing his gaze, you turned toward him and waved, your smile lighting up the frosty morning. JJ’s heart stuttered, and before he could fully process it, you were already standing in front of him, your breath visible in the chill air, your cheeks flushed pink.

“Merry Christmas, Jay,” you said warmly, tilting your head slightly. A strand of hair escaped from beneath your hat, brushing your face. JJ had to fight the overwhelming urge to reach out, to tuck it back behind your ear.

“Merry Christmas, angel,” he murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them. It was only when he saw the faint blush dust your cheeks, your gaze darting downward with a shy smile, that he realized what he’d called you.

“We... my dad and I were thinking,” you began hesitantly, your voice a little rushed, “do you want to spend Christmas with us?”

JJ blinked, caught off guard.

You bit your lip nervously, shifting your weight. “We haven’t opened presents yet, and Mom made that cherry pudding you love, and we always watch a movie after that and-”

You were rambling, your nose wrinkling slightly as you spoke, and JJ couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t want to impose, didn’t want to accept and risk feeling like a burden. But the nervous hope in your voice, the way you avoided his eyes as though bracing for rejection, made it impossible to refuse.

“Thank you. With pleasure,” he interrupted softly, his smile widening.

Your eyes snapped up to meet his, wide with surprise, and then they lit up with excitement. Before JJ could react, you grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the car with a burst of enthusiasm. “He said yes, Dad!” you called out, beaming.

That Christmas was the best of JJ’s life.

The warmth of the fireplace, the soft glow of the Christmas tree, the unexpected gifts waiting under its branches — all of it was magical. But none of it compared to the feeling of being part of something he’d always longed for. Sitting with your family, sharing laughter and stories, tasting your mom’s cherry pudding, JJ felt something he hadn’t dared to dream of: belonging.

And then there was you.

You, who had reached out when no one else had. You, who had brought him in from the cold, both outside and within. You, who had become his Christmas angel, saving him with your kindness and warmth. That day, you didn’t just give JJ a happy holiday — you gave him a family.

You became his home.

And now, JJ sat on the bed in the bedroom you shared, in the house you’d built together — not the grand mansion with big windows and a sprawling garden he had once promised you under a starlit sky, but a modest, white, slightly weathered two-story home. It had a cozy front yard with space for flowers yet to be planted and a back door that opened onto the soft sands of the beach. It wasn’t the picture-perfect dream you once painted together, but it was real. It was yours.

This house had become his sanctuary. Each day, he came home to your arms, finding solace in your laughter and warmth. Each morning, he woke beside you, basking in the light of a love that grounded him. And tonight, you would celebrate your first Christmas in the home you’d built — not just of wood and stone, but of trust and shared dreams. It wasn’t perfect. Neither were you. But it was home.

For JJ, it was more than he had ever thought he could have. The boy who once wandered lonely streets at Christmas, who stared longingly at shop windows and dreamed of belonging, had found it here — with you. The memory of those cold, empty nights and his childhood filled with longing still lingered at the edges of his mind, but they no longer haunted him. You had rewritten his story, replacing loneliness with joy and pain with purpose.

He glanced toward the living room and leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed as he watched you bustle back and forth between the kitchen and dining room. You were radiant, your hair cascading down your back in soft waves as the skirt of your red dress shimmered with each step. A familiar Santa hat perched on your head, the same one you wore on the Christmas that changed everything—the one where you gave him the gift of belonging for the first time.

The air was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of the turkey roasting in the oven, mingling with the faint, sweet scent of pine from the decorated tree in the corner. Your favorite Christmas playlist hummed in the background, and you hummed along softly as you worked, pausing to adjust the napkins on the table with a perfectionist’s touch. JJ’s lips curled into a smile. You were always like this, always striving to make things special for everyone else, pouring your heart into the smallest details.

He could see the excitement in your every movement — the way your cheeks were flushed from the warmth of the kitchen, the way your eyes sparkled with anticipation. It reminded him of the first time he saw you that Christmas morning years ago, standing on the icy street in your matching pajamas with your dad. Back then, you had invited him into your family, into your world, without hesitation. Now, here you were, creating that same magic, not just for him but for the friends you both cherished.

JJ felt his chest tighten with gratitude. He didn’t need the mansion or the grand promises anymore. He didn’t need a perfectly landscaped garden or the white picket fence. He already had everything he’d ever dreamed of — and more. You were his dream, his home, his Christmas angel.

Pushing off the doorframe, he walked toward you, his steps soft against the wooden floor. You didn’t notice him at first, too focused on the final touches of the table. But when he slid his arms around your waist from behind, you let out a small gasp, laughing as you turned to look up at him.

“Jay,” you chided playfully, though your smile gave you away.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering as he breathed you in — the scent of cinnamon, the faint traces of your perfume, the essence of you. “You know,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with affection, “you don’t have to do all this. It’s already perfect.”

You shook your head, a strand of hair falling into your face, which he gently tucked behind your ear. “I just want it to be special,” you said softly.

“It is,” he said firmly, his blue eyes locking onto yours. “Because of you. Everything you touch becomes special.”

Your cheeks flushed deeper, and you bit your lip, momentarily speechless. JJ smiled, leaning down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss. The chaos of the kitchen faded, the playlist in the background becoming nothing more than a faint hum. In that moment, there was only the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of the home you’d built and the love that had carried you here.

As if jolted from a dream, you broke the kiss and stepped back slightly, your hands pressed firmly against JJ's chest. His heartbeat thrummed under your palms, steady and sure. You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, your brows furrowed in a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“JJ,” you scolded softly, your voice tinged with urgency. “This isn’t the time. The Pogues are gonna be here soon, and we’re not even close to ready!”

JJ’s lips curved into that infuriatingly smug grin of his, the one that made your heart race despite yourself. He leaned back as if he hadn’t a care in the world, his eyes flicking upward with deliberate mischief.

“Relax, angel,” he drawled, his voice warm as honey, smooth as the waves lapping the Cut. “It’s tradition. Had to honor it.”

Your gaze followed his, and you gasped. A cluster of mistletoe hung innocently above you, tied with a red ribbon that swayed gently in the air. You turned back to him, jaw dropping, and gave his chest a light shove.

“When the hell did you do that, Maybank?” you asked, laughing despite yourself.

He shrugged, a picture of nonchalance. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is you’re under it, so-” He grinned wider, tugging you back a step. “Less talking, more kissing.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hold back your smile. “You’re impossible.”

Yet even as you said it, your lips met his again, soft and lingering. Kissing JJ was like freefalling into the ocean, exhilarating and all-consuming, like the scent of salt air in the morning or the taste of wild blackberries in summer. He was chaos wrapped in warmth, the kind of boy who made you believe in stars aligning and fates intertwining.

As his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of your lips, you felt the world tilt for a moment. It was easy to forget the chaos of the house, the mess still to be cleaned, the impending arrival of your friends. But you forced yourself to pull away just as he began to deepen the kiss.

“Uh-uh,” you teased, breathless but resolute. “Get busy, Maybank. We’ve got work to do.”

JJ groaned dramatically, his pout almost childlike as he tightened his grip on your waist. “I am busy. Busy kissing the prettiest girl in the Outer Banks,” he purred, his lips brushing against your cheek, then trailing to your neck.

“JJ,” you protested weakly, though your hand found its way into his hair, tugging lightly at the golden strands.

Before he could retort, the sharp chime of the doorbell broke the spell.

You froze, your brows knitting together. “What the-” you murmured, glancing at the clock. It was still an hour before Sarah and John B. were supposed to show up. Kiara was stuck at the diner until late, and Pope and Cleo were busy helping out at the store.

Your eyes snapped to JJ, who was now grinning like the cat who’d caught the canary.

“What did you do?” you demanded, narrowing your eyes.

His smile only widened, his blue eyes sparkling with a secret he wasn’t ready to share. “Guess you’ll just have to find out, angel.”

It wasn’t good. Not one bit.

“Go on, angel. Open the door,” JJ said, his voice low and teasing as he let you slip from his arms, giving you a gentle nudge toward the entryway.

You turned back to him, eyebrows raised in suspicion. His smirk was maddening, and his ocean-blue eyes sparkled with mischief, like he knew something you didn’t. “JJ…” you warned, taking slow, hesitant steps.

“Trust me, angel,” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed. The way he looked at you — like you were the only thing that mattered in the world — made your heart skip. His eyes always held that same soft, unspoken promise, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth spreading through your chest.

Biting your lip, you reached for the doorknob, casting him one last skeptical glance before opening the door. The cool winter air rushed in, bringing with it the scent of pine and saltwater from the sea just down the road. At first, you saw nothing unusual — just the empty driveway, lined with snow that glimmered faintly in the moonlight, and the quiet stillness of the evening. But then, something shifted near your feet.

You froze. The soft sound of rustling paper followed by the creak of a box wobbled slightly on the porch. You jumped back with a startled squeal, your pulse racing. “JJ! JJ!” you called out, your voice a mix of fear and excitement. “There’s… something out here!”

Your eyes darted to the object on the porch — a large box tied with a perfect red bow. It didn’t move at first, but as you took a tentative step closer, the box wobbled again, and a muffled noise came from inside.

Behind you, JJ’s laugh rang out, low and warm, like he was thoroughly enjoying your reaction. “Relax, angel. It’s not gonna bite… much,” he teased, the grin on his face devilishly charming. You could almost hear the glint of mischief in his voice as it wrapped around you, tugging at your nerves.

You whipped around to glare at him, your arms crossing instinctively over your chest. “This is your doing, isn’t it? What is it, JJ?”

His grin widened. “Why don’t you open it and find out?” he said, shrugging like it was the simplest thing in the world. “Pretty sure Santa dropped off an early delivery for you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, still skeptical, but the curiosity was too strong to resist. Slowly, you lowered yourself to your knees, inching closer to the box. Another sound came from inside — a soft, almost pleading whine that made your heart skip a beat. You shivered, but couldn't stop your hands from reaching for the bow. Your fingers trembled slightly as you untied it, the red ribbon falling away like the final barrier between you and whatever lay inside.

“JJ, if this thing jumps out and eats my face, I swear-”

“Just open it, angel,” he said, crouching beside you now, his voice soft and coaxing, like he was trying to keep you calm, though you knew he was just enjoying the show. You could feel his breath tickling the back of your neck, his presence so close that it made your skin heat up despite the cold night air.

With trembling fingers, you tugged the bow loose. The moment it fell away, the lid popped open with a gentle creak, and out came a tiny white muzzle, followed by two shiny black eyes that sparkled like polished onyx. You gasped, covering your mouth with your hand.

“No way…” you whispered, your heart racing as the fluffy creature let out a tiny bark, its tail wagging furiously, causing the box to shake slightly.

JJ chuckled beside you, resting his chin on your shoulder, his laughter warm and full of pride. “Told you Santa came through this year.” His voice was teasing, but there was something deeper there too — a tenderness that you didn’t always hear. It was the same tenderness that had drawn you to him all those years ago, when everything in his life had been so broken, but he had found a way to build something together with you. The soft thrum of your heart matched the beat of his, and it felt like time had stopped just for you two, here in this small moment of joy.

You turned to him, your eyes wide. “You said no dogs. You said the house wasn’t ready!”

JJ shrugged, completely unbothered, his grin stretching wider, a glint of mischievous pride dancing in his gaze. “Guess I lied. Couldn’t resist, angel. I mean, look at him.” He leaned forward, his finger brushing against the puppy’s tiny, soft ears. “He’s got ‘JJ Maybank’ written all over him.”

The puppy let out another excited yip, struggling to climb out of the box. Gently, you lifted him, his soft fur warm in your hands. His tiny paws pressed against your chest as he wiggled excitedly, licking your face with reckless abandon, causing you to giggle uncontrollably.

You laughed, the sound light and free, the way it hadn’t been in years, your heart so full it could’ve burst. “Oh my God, JJ. He’s perfect.”

JJ watched you with a lazy smile, leaning closer to press a kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering there just a moment longer than usual. “I think he’s already got a favorite human,” he teased, brushing your hair behind your ear with a tenderness that made you feel as if the entire world had stopped just for you two.

You cradled the little ball of fluff in your arms, his tiny paws pressing against your chest as he snuggled closer, his warmth filling the empty spaces of your heart. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t care. For the first time in a long while, you felt whole — like all the pieces of your life had finally clicked into place. You looked back at JJ, your voice soft and filled with gratitude.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your heart swelling as his smile deepened.

“Anything for you, angel,” he murmured, his hand brushing over yours as he leaned in to kiss you again. It wasn’t a kiss full of urgency or passion this time, but one that was slower, deeper — full of a love that had built up over years of quiet moments, of shared dreams, of both the good and bad times that had shaped you. A kiss that spoke of promises made and promises kept.

His arms were wrapped around your waist, his fingers tracing slow, soothing patterns along the back of your neck as the soft, playful puppy nestled in your lap. The warm weight of the small creature was a perfect contrast to the warmth of JJ’s body pressed against yours. He kissed the delicate curve of your neck, his lips lingering as if he could never get enough of you. He moved to your cheek, then your cheekbone, leaving a trail of tenderness that sent shivers down your spine.

You turned in his arms, your lips finding his in a kiss that spoke volumes. It wasn’t hurried, it wasn’t filled with desperation — no, this kiss was full of everything you’d wanted, everything you had built, everything you had fought for. After everything that had happened in Morocco, the terror, the near loss of him, you never thought you'd find this peace, this quiet joy. But here you were, wrapped in his embrace, feeling more alive than ever.

After that incident, after the nightmare of nearly losing him, JJ had changed. He was different. More gentle, more mindful of your every need, and more focused on building a life with you. You had always known he loved you, always felt the weight of his affection even when he didn’t say it aloud, but now — now it was deeper, tenfold. His love was a constant, a steady presence that made you feel safe in a world that had once felt like it was falling apart. And it was enough. More than enough.

His lips met yours again, soft and slow, each kiss full of meaning, of promises he’d made to himself to make you the happiest woman in the world. And as he kissed you, he whispered against your lips, his voice rough with emotion.

“I love you,” he said, each word wrapping around your heart like a warm blanket.

You smiled, your chest swelling with love as you pulled him closer. The puppy, now content in its new home, wandered around the living room, sniffing at the new surroundings with an inquisitive gleam in his eyes. You didn’t care that the front door was wide open or that you were making out on the living room floor, in full view of anyone who might pass by. There was no one else in the world but JJ and the life you were building together. You just wanted to show him, to remind him, how much you loved him. How much you appreciated him.

“What's the next step?” you teased, pulling away just enough to look into his eyes. Your hands, without thinking, brushed a lock of blond hair away from his forehead, your heart fluttering as you took in the depth of his gaze. “A house, a dog... what's the next thing in our list?” You giggled, the sound light and free, like a melody you could listen to forever.

JJ’s smile deepened, and his voice softened, filled with a warmth that had once been so foreign to him. “Oh, that’s easy. A mini you or a mini me — or a mini us,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear before he kissed you again, this time with a little more passion. You shivered at the thought of what he wanted — a family. Your family.

The idea of children, of a future together, made your heart race. It wasn’t a dream you had ever imagined for yourself. But now, with JJ, it felt right. It felt like it was meant to be.

“But first,” he continued, his voice playful as he broke the kiss, “we deal with this dog, because it seems to me he’s already gnawing on our pillow.”

You laughed, shaking your head, your heart full as you watched the puppy eagerly attack the pink pillow you had bought from the flea market, its fluffy stuffing spilling out onto the floor. The mess didn’t bother you, not at all. You were too caught up in the joy of the moment, in the warmth of JJ’s arms around your waist, in the paradise you had built.

It wasn’t perfect. The house was small, a little worn around the edges, but it was yours. Your home. A place where laughter and love filled the air, where memories were made, and where the future you dreamed of was slowly taking shape. It was paradise. Small, imperfect, but paradise all the same. And you couldn’t have asked for anything more.

But then, something shifted. You smelled it before you saw it — the faint scent of something burning, sharp and sudden. Your heart skipped a beat, and your eyes snapped open as the realization hit you.

“Damn, Jay, the turkey!” you exclaimed, your eyes widening in panic as you bolted upright, the puppy’s ears perked up in alarm as you scrambled to your feet.

JJ laughed, deep and carefree, lying back on the floor as he watched you rush toward the kitchen. He felt like the happiest man on earth, like everything in the world had finally fallen into place. But as you disappeared into the kitchen, he let his mind wander for a moment, and he couldn’t help but think back to the time before all of this.

Back to the dark days when Morocco had nearly torn you apart, when you had held him in your arms, desperate, praying he would survive. You had nightmares for weeks after, haunted by the memory of him almost slipping away from you forever. The weight of that fear had lingered, thick and suffocating, even after you returned to Kildare, when everything should have felt safe again. But it hadn’t been easy. It had taken time. It had taken effort. It had taken healing.

You both had scars from that experience. You, from the sleepless nights and the anxiety that gripped your heart whenever you thought about the what-ifs. And JJ, from the deep, quiet trauma that you knew he didn’t always talk about. But despite all of that, you had found your way back to each other. You had found peace. Together.

Now, as he lay there on the floor, listening to the sound of your frantic steps in the kitchen, he smiled softly to himself. The memories of Morocco were still there, lingering in the background, but they no longer defined him. No longer defined you together. You had rebuilt your paradise, and no amount of darkness could take that away.

JJ Maybank had always been reckless, wild, untamed. But now, he was grounded. Not because the world had suddenly become perfect, but because you were his. Because he had found his anchor in you. You were his home. And no matter what happened, he knew you would always be there, side by side.

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the peace of the present wash over him. There was no place he’d rather be. No place but here, with you. His family. His paradise.

And for Christmas, that was all he could ever ask for.

The smell of burning turkey wafted in from the kitchen, and he couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe paradise wasn’t perfect, but damn, it was perfect for him.

thankx for reading <3

it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...

okay, this work my first kinda christmas special and I like it so much. also 'santa doesn't know you like I do' is such a beautiful song and maybe the meaning of the song is not connected to the whole vibe of this work but first lines is so jj and angel coded, idk.

but thank you again for reading my work and as usual you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox :3

                                    – your santi 🪐

masterlist

[shitsndgiggs]

Hey there is this one fic where you did kenan going through our text messages can you do one where we are going through his text messages

Ty🐧

TABLES TURNED - KENAN YILDIZ

You reacting to Kenan’s DMs

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, the kind where you stay in pajamas and lounge around with no particular plans.

Kenan and I were sprawled on the couch, his head resting on my lap as I absentmindedly ran my fingers through his hair.

I had my phone in one hand, scrolling aimlessly, when I suddenly remembered the TikTok trend that Kenan and I had done the other day—where he read through my DMs and reacted to the chaos in them.

The memory of his over-the-top reactions, dramatic sighs, and occasional bouts of jealousy still made me laugh.

“What’re you laughing at?” Kenan asked, tilting his head up to look at me, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Oh, nothing,” I replied, grinning mischievously. “Just thinking about how hilarious you were during the DM thing.”

Kenan groaned. “Don’t remind me. Your DMs were a lot.”

“Exactly,” I said, poking his cheek. “And now it’s your turn.”

His eyes widened. “Wait—what?”

“You heard me,” I said, grabbing his phone from the coffee table before he could react. “We’re doing ‘My Girlfriend Reacts to My DMs.’”

Kenan shot up from my lap, attempting to snatch the phone back, but I dodged him, clutching it like my life depended on it. “Oh, no you don’t!” I teased. “You had your fun with my DMs—this is payback.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, trying to sound casual, but I caught the nervous edge in his voice.

“Kenan,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing!” he said quickly. Too quickly. “But you know how people can be in there… It’s not worth your time!”

“Oh, it’s definitely worth my time,” I shot back, unlocking his phone. “Now let’s see what we’ve got here.”

I started scrolling through his Instagram DMs while he sat next to me, shifting uncomfortably.

The first few messages were harmless—just fans expressing their admiration for his game or wishing him luck.

“Aw, this one’s sweet,” I said, showing him a message from a little kid asking for advice on how to become a football player. “See? This isn’t so bad.”

Kenan relaxed a bit. “Yeah, those are fine. That’s most of them, honestly.”

“Hmm, let’s see about that.” I scrolled further, and that’s when the real fun began.

“You’re so fine. If you ever need a rebound, hit me up. I’d take care of you better than your girl ever could.”

I read it aloud, my voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Oh, really? ‘Better than your girl ever could,’ huh?”

Kenan’s jaw dropped. “Who even says that?! Delete it. Block her. I don’t know her!”

I raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”

“No! Absolutely not,” he said, looking genuinely distressed. “She’s delusional. You know that.”

Next DM: “I have dreams about you, Kenan. Just one night is all I’d need.”

I choked on a laugh. “What do you even say to this?”

“I don’t say anything!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “I don’t even open them!”

“Sure, Mr. Modesty,” I teased. “I bet you love the attention.”

“Only from you,” he said, trying to butter me up.

Another one: A voice memo. I played it, and an overly dramatic voice purred, “Hey, Kenan. Just saw your game… You looked so hot out there. Maybe we could celebrate your win sometime? My treat.”

I looked at him with a mock-serious expression. “So… do you take her up on the offer, or…?”

Kenan groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Y/N, stop. This is so embarrassing.”

“No way,” I said, grinning. “This is amazing.”

Then came the kicker: A series of messages from someone who had clearly been trying to shoot her shot for months. Each one was thirstier than the last.

The most recent read: “If you ever get tired of your girlfriend, just know I’m waiting for my chance. I’d treat you like the king you are, baby.”

I dramatically gasped. “Kenan, how could you not reply to such a devoted admirer?”

“I didn’t ask for any of this!” he defended himself. “You know I only care about you.”

I leaned in close, pretending to scrutinize him. “Hmm. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

By the time I finished going through the DMs, Kenan looked like he’d been through the wringer.

His face was flushed, his hands in his hair, and he kept muttering about how unfair this was.

“Relax,” I said, setting his phone down. “It’s all in good fun.”

“For you, maybe,” he grumbled, but I could see the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

“You survived,” I teased, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “And now I know you’re not secretly entertaining your fan club.”

“You didn’t have to do all that to know that,” he said softly, wrapping an arm around me. “You’re the only one I want, Y/N. Always.”

I couldn’t help but smile, my heart melting a little at his sincerity. “Good. Because I’m not sharing you with anyone.”

“Same goes for me,” he said, pulling me closer.

“But just so you know… I’m never letting you go through my DMs again.”

“Deal,” I said, laughing. “But only because I already got the content I needed.”

“You’re impossible,” Kenan muttered, but his grin gave him away as he kissed me.

[allisluv]

Emily prentiss x single mom!reader, Emily introducing her new gf reader and her kid to the team?

meet the family -- e.p

summary: emily introduces you and your daughter, verity, to the team.

pairing: emily prentiss x single mom!reader

word count: 1.1k

content warnings: derek being a lovable menace and interrogating reader but he's just worried for emily! apart from that, i don't think there is anything else but if there is, just lmk! <3

author's note: thinking about turning this into a series so feel free to send in as many scenarios for these two as you'd like! <3

when emily tells you that she wants to introduce you to her friends from work, you're nervous, to say the least. you've heard great things about the bau— not only are they damn good at their job, they also treat each other like family.

you're sure they're lovely people, honest, but part of you wonders just how nice they will be when they find out you have a daughter. you've been going out with emily for the better part of six months, and while she has been nothing but supportive of you being a single mother, that doesn't mean everyone else will be as understanding.

over the last four years, you've faced a lot of backlash about being a single mother. in fact, you had started to give up hope altogether on finding someone new. people do not like to take someone on when they have priorities or "baggage", as one man called it. you were debating taking down your tinder profile when emily messaged you— and boy were you glad she did.

"relax, my love," emily soothes, resting her hand on your thigh as she focuses on the long stretch of road ahead. "it's just dinner. and i promise they don't bite. well, derek might, but he's all talk and i'll kick him in the balls if i have to."

you laugh, wiping your clammy palms down the front of your black blouse. "are you sure i look alright? i feel stupid in this skirt."

before emily can get a word in, verity pipes up from the backseat. "you look pretty, mommy."

you meet her eye in the rear view mirror and smile. her words settle your nerves ever so slightly. "thank you, honey."

"see?" emily quirks a brow. "verity knows her stuff, don't you, v?"

verity is too busy playing with her barbie dolls to give emily a proper answer, but she hums her agreement, which is good enough. emily brings your hand up to her mouth and presses soft kisses to your knuckles, something that she's learnt over the last few months that soothes you.

emily holds your hand, verity holding your other, as you walk into the restaurant. it's buzzing with life, and it's warm, which makes a change to the bitter cold outside.

you hear someone call emily's name, and your heart sinks into a pit in your stomach. as if she can sense your anxiety— and lets be real, she's a profiler, so she more than likely can— she squeezes your hand and leans down to kiss your forehead. "that's jj."

a blonde with bangs pulls emily into a hug as the rest of the team stand to their feet. before you have time to back out of the situation altogether, a woman with orangey-red hair squeals and envelopes you in her arms. "i'm penelope!"

"hi!" you giggle, placing a hand over your chest in an effort to keep your heart from beating so fast. you give her your name and she compliments you on how pretty you are. "thank you," you laugh.

as you go around the table, learning everyone's names-- david and jj and aaron and spencer and the infamous derek-- you feel a tug on your arm. verity's hiding behind your legs and you hoist her onto your hip, not caring who's watching. she winds her chubby arms around your neck, and buries her face into your blouse.

"who've we got here?" spencer smiles, trying to catch verity's eye.

you look to emily for help and she places a reassuring hand on your lower back. "this is my girlfriend, and her daughter, verity."

for a minute no one says anything, and you debate running back out the front door and away from the prying eyes. you swallow the lump in your throat as emily's thumb traces soothing patterns against your lower back.

aaron cracks a tiny smile, something that looks to be a rare occurrence, and puts his hands on his hips. "it's nice to meet you, verity. how old are you?" verity pulls her face away from where it's buried in your blouse for just long enough to hold up four small fingers. "i have a son, jack, who's just a little bit older than you! he's five! maybe next time i could bring him and the two of you could play together? how does that sound?"

verity flails her legs about, a sign that she wants to be let down. you oblige, and she stands by your side, gripping your hand like a vice. "does jack like superheroes?"

aaron grins. "he does indeed."

verity juts her chin out. "then it's a date."

the team erupt into laughter and derek mutters something fondly about how jack will have his work cut out with this one.

emily pulls your chair out and you sit down, offering your girlfriend a smile in return. she sits beside you and verity makes herself comfortable in the chair on your other side. "i couldn't find a babysitter on such short notice, i'm sorry."

spencer dismisses you with a wave of his hand. "don't be. 66% of babysitters are between the ages of 11 to 13 anyway. did you know that?"

you smile. emily had filled you in about spencer’s rambling. while some people found it annoying, you found it endearing. “i didn’t know that."

derek leans across the table, using his elbows to prop himself up. "so..." he says to you. "what are your intentions with emily?" penelope whacks him across the back of the head. "what? it's a simple question!"

your face flushes scarlet. emily takes your hand under the table. "well, my intentions with emily are strictly confidential, if you know what i mean." you bat your lashes and rest your chin in the palm of your hand. you cover verity's ears. "does that answer your question or do you need the nitty gritty details of our sex life, too?"

jj bursts into a fit if giggles, aaron almost chokes on his red wine and derek ducks his head to hide his embarrassed smile.

"she's fiery," david notes. "i can see why you like her, em."

"well, i'm in love with emily," you announce. "and, unfortunately for you guys, i'm in it for the long haul, so you're stuck with me." you catch derek's eye from over the rim of your cocktail glass. "have you got a problem with that?"

derek tongues the inside of his cheek, smiles, and shakes his head. "not at all. i hope you don't mind me being rude, i was just seeing if you could hold your own, that's all. no hard feelings?"

you shake his hand across the table. "no hard feelings."

emily lets go of your hand to fold her arms across her chest. "im glad the air is cleared between the two of you, but if you ever pull a stunt like that again, i will castrate you."

"is that a threat?" derek muses.

"no," emily says, slipping her hand into yours. "It's a promise."

[lizzyiii]

Pregnancy Scare

pairing | josh washington x fem!reader

word count | 4.9k words

summary | you are slowly pulling away from your boyfriend, Josh, frustrated because of this secret his keeping. Matters only get worse when you realize your period is late.

tags | angst, hurt/comfort, pregnancy scare, mentions of pregnancy, teenagers in love, fluff, mentions of mental illness, confessions, no description of reader

a/n | hey beautiful people, just wanted to say that these are extractions from my actual fanfic on A03, unfortunately it is Josh x OC, but if you guys are interested it's called Echoes Of Us

likes comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨

MASTERLIST

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

Your mind was racing as you sat on the edge of your bed, staring at the calendar pinned to your wall. The little red circle marking the start of your period last month seemed to mock you now. It had been over a week—a week—and nothing.

Your chest tightened as you buried your face in your hands, letting out a shaky breath. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not like this.

You were eighteen—still figuring everything out, still planning your future. And now the universe had decided to throw you a curveball you weren't ready for.

To make matters worse, you hadn’t spoken to Josh in days. You had been dodging his texts, ignoring his calls, and making every excuse to avoid seeing him when he came back home for the weekend.

It was easier this way. The secrets he’d been keeping had created a wedge between the two of you, and it was suffocating you.

You didn’t know what was worse—the way he would dodge your questions with a charming smile or cheesy joke or the nagging feeling in your gut that he didn’t trust you enough to let you all the way in.

And now? Now, you might be pregnant. Pregnant, for god’s sake. You let out a bitter laugh at the thought. "Eighteen and pregnant. That’ll look great on my college applications."

Your gaze drifted toward your phone on the nightstand. Josh’s name was still at the top of your unread messages. The last one from him was from this morning:

Sun, May 20, 2012,

10:47 AM

Josh: Baby, I’m sorry. Can you just talk to me?

11:19 AM

Josh: Please?

Your stomach churned. The thought of talking to him made you want to scream and cry all at once. What would you even say? That you were furious with him for keeping things from you?

That you weren't sure you could trust him? Or maybe you'd lead with the bombshell that you might be carrying his baby?

Your fingers trembled as you grabbed the unopened pregnancy test from your bag, your heart pounding in your chest. You had driven two towns over to buy it, far enough from Santa Monica that no one you knew could catch you.

Even then, you hadn’t been able to meet the cashier’s eyes as they scanned the box and handed it over.

Now it sat in your hands, small and unassuming, but it felt heavier than anything you'd ever held. A deep groan escaped you as you shoved the box under your pillow, as though hiding it would make it less real. Flopping back onto your bed, you grabbed your phone, hoping for a distraction.

Big mistake.

Your chest tightened as you scrolled through your notifications. A string of unread messages from Josh stared back at you, a silent accusation.

You locked your phone without responding, holding it to your chest. The guilt gnawed at you. Avoiding Josh was one thing, but there were also unread messages from Beth. That was worse. So much worse.

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening. Beth didn’t deserve this. She'd always been the supportive one, the steady one. Ignoring her felt like betraying your friendship.

But how could you face Beth right now? The thought of seeing her filled you with dread. Beth had this uncanny ability to read you like a book—she’d take one look at you and know something was wrong.

You could already picture the concerned tilt of Beth’s head, the gentle but insistent questions, the way she’d push until you cracked.

And then, before you could stop yourself, the words would come spilling out, “Hey, B, guess what? You’re going to be an aunt.”

Just imagining it made your stomach twist into knots. You couldn’t handle that conversation—not with Josh, not with Beth, not with anyone.

The spiral was already beginning, your thoughts circling darker and darker, and you clutched your pillow tightly against your chest as though the pressure might keep you from completely unraveling.

Your breaths were shallow, and you were dangerously close to a full-blown breakdown when the soft buzz of your phone snapped you out of it.

You froze, your heart jumping into your throat. Tentatively, you picked up the phone, half-dreading yet another message from Josh or Beth.

But when you glanced at the screen, you let out a shaky sigh of relief. It wasn’t them.

It was Em.

13:05 PM

Emily: Shopping later?

You stared at the text for a moment, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. Emily’s bluntness was weirdly comforting—it was one of the few things you could count on to stay consistent. You really could use a distraction, something to pull you out of your own head.

13:06 PM

You: Barney's in an hour?

It didn’t take long for Emily to reply.

13:07 PM

Emily: See you there, bitch.

You couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at your lips. For now, you could put everything aside—the unopened test, the missed calls, the terrifying what-ifs—and focus on something mindless.

You tossed your pillow aside, grabbed your purse, and headed out the door. Shopping with Emily wouldn’t fix your problems, but it might give you just enough strength to face them.

“Y’know, I’m surprised Jess isn’t here,” You murmured as you scanned the racks of dresses, running your fingers over the fabric, your thoughts far from the clothes in front of you.

Emily stood beside you, meticulously inspecting each hanger with the precision of someone on a mission.

"Don't get me wrong, I love Jess," Emily replied, her voice casual as she shifted a dress aside. "She’s my best friend, but sometimes… I don’t know. She doesn’t really give the best advice and doesn’t always get... certain things."

You turned to glance at Emily, raising an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on your lips. “Are you calling her dumb, Em?”

Emily laughed softly, shaking her head. "I’m not! Don’t twist my words like that."

But then her laughter faded, her gaze lingering on a dress she wasn’t really looking at. Her lips pursed, and she hesitated before adding, “It’s just… I’ve been having some problems with Mike.”

At the mention of Mike, you let out an audible sigh, unable to hide your disdain.

Emily shot you a sharp side-eye. "What was that sigh for?"

You shrugged, toying absentmindedly with a strand of your hair. “You know I don’t like him.”

"I’ll never understand why," Emily replied with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. She pulled a dress from the rack but didn’t even look at it before putting it back. Her tone softened as she admitted, "But… there’s something else."

You frowned, turning your full attention to Emily. "What is it, Em?"

Emily hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with a price tag. “I haven’t slept with him yet,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing to hide the tension in her voice.

Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline, your surprise evident. Emily noticed and immediately scoffed. "Why the hell are you looking at me like that?"

"I’m not shocked," You said quickly, though your tone betrayed your curiosity. "It’s just… you two have been together for, like, a year."

Emily sighed, crossing her arms defensively. “Yeah, and? Relationships aren’t all about that, you know.”

“I didn’t say they were,” You replied, your voice gentler now. You leaned slightly against the rack, studying Emily’s expression. "But if it’s bothering you, why haven’t you told him?"

Emily hesitated, her shoulders slumping slightly. "It’s not that easy. Mike’s… Mike. He can be so pushy sometimes, and I just—ugh, I don’t know."

You tilted your head, your tone blunt but kind. “If he’s making you feel pressured, that’s not okay, Em. You don’t owe him anything just because you’ve been together a while.”

Emily glanced at you, her guarded expression softening. “It’s not just him. It’s me, too. I guess I feel… guilty? Like I should be ready by now, but I’m just… not.”

You reached out, placing a hand on Emily’s shoulder. "Then that’s his problem, not yours. If Mike really cares about you—and I mean really—he’ll wait. No questions asked."

Emily nodded slowly, exhaling a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Thanks, babe.”

"Anytime," you replied with a small smile. Then you added, unable to resist, “But just for the record, I still think you could do better.”

Emily rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the grin tugging at her lips. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you love me anyway,” You quipped, a teasing grin on your face as you pulled another dress off the rack. For a moment, the air lightened between you.

But as your eyes wandered, something stopped you cold—the maternity section.

Your heart skipped a beat as your feet carried you there almost instinctively. You reached for a dress, a soft, pink summery thing with a flowy cut.

It was adorable and obviously meant for someone who was heavily pregnant. You stared at it, your mind spiraling. You could almost see yourself in it, your stomach round and heavy with life.

“What the hell are you doing?” Emily’s voice cut through the moment like a knife, startling you.

You jumped, the dress slipping from your hands. You shoved it hastily back onto the rack. “Nothing, Em,” you said, too quickly.

Emily raised a skeptical brow, her sharp eyes darting from you to the maternity section. A slow smirk tugged at her lips. “What, you pregnant or something?” she teased lightly.

You let out a forced laugh, waving your hand dismissively. “What the fuck? No.”

But Emily wasn’t buying it. Her playful expression gave way to something more calculating as she studied you closely. She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Wait... are you?”

“No, Em,” you said, too fast again, your voice dropping to a shaky murmur. You hesitated, then added, “My period’s just late, that’s all.”

Emily’s eyes widened, the gravity of the situation sinking in. “Oh my god,” she whispered, the teasing gone from her tone entirely.

“It’s nothing, Emily,” you snapped, your voice firm but not convincing. “I swear. Don’t make a big deal about it, okay?”

Emily nodded, her lips pursed like she wasn’t entirely convinced. Then, with a glance at you, she reached out and plucked the pink dress from the rack.

She held it up, studying it for a moment before saying, “If you are, you know you can’t keep it, right?”

You froze, your stomach dropping like a stone. “Why?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Emily shrugged, her tone casual, almost flippant. “Because we’d be terrible moms.”

You frowned, your chest tightening. “Why would I be a terrible mom?” you asked, trying to sound indifferent but failing miserably.

“Don’t take it personally, Hon,” Emily replied with a nonchalant wave of her hand. “It’s just… we all turn into our parents eventually, right? And I mean, as soon as Junior you hits puberty, Senior you becomes a bitter bitch. It’s just how it goes.”

Your jaw clenched as you looked away, your gaze landing on the dress again. Emily’s words were meant to be casual, maybe even a joke, but they stung.

You swallowed hard, willing yourself not to cry. Somehow, your already bad day had just gotten worse.

You sat on the edge of your bed, staring down at the pregnancy test in your trembling hands. Your eyes were fixed on the single, unbroken line in the tiny window.

Not pregnant.

You should’ve felt relief. You wanted to feel relief. But all that settled in your chest was a heavy, hollow ache. Emily’s words echoed in your mind like a cruel mantra: We’d be terrible moms.

A lump formed in your throat as your grip tightened on the plastic stick. No, you thought fiercely. I wouldn’t be like that. You'd try. You'd try so damn hard to make your baby happy, to protect them from everything. You'd do better. You could do better.

But none of that mattered now. You weren't pregnant.

Distantly, you heard the doorbell ring, followed by your mother’s sharp, impatient voice cutting through the quiet of the house. “Get the door!”

You exhaled shakily, breaking out of your thoughts. You tossed the test into the trash with more force than necessary, the hollow clink of plastic against metal strangely satisfying.

With a sigh, you got to your feet and headed for the door, leaving the hollow ache behind—or at least trying to.

You froze when you opened the door, your heart leaping into your throat as you stared at Josh’s face. His green eyes, wide and pleading, met yours, and for a moment, all you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Josh cleared his throat, looking a little sheepish as he murmured, “Can I come in?”

You didn’t trust your voice, so you just nodded and stepped aside, letting him cross the threshold. He slipped inside, shutting the door softly behind them.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, before reaching out and thrusting a bouquet of pink peonies into your hands. “These are for you.”

You blinked, surprised by the gesture. The delicate flowers felt out of place in your clammy grip, and all you could manage was a quiet, “Thanks.” You set the bouquet on a nearby table, your movements awkward and uncertain.

Josh stuffed his hands into his jean pockets, his shoulders hunched slightly as he asked, “Can we talk?”

You nodded, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah. Just... let’s go to my room. My mom’s in one of her moods.”

Josh followed you down the hall, his footsteps slow and tentative. Once inside your room, he closed the door softly, his gaze roaming the familiar space.

The walls were decorated with photos of all of you together—laughing at the beach, posing at school events, arms slung around each other.

Your bed was piled high with stuffed animals, and posters of The Cranberries and ABBA lined the walls. It hadn’t changed since the last time he’d been here, but it felt like a lifetime ago.

Josh took a deep breath, running a hand through his messy hair as he perched on the edge of your bed. His knee bounced nervously, the movement betraying the calm he was trying to project. “So... I’m sure you’re wondering why I came here.”

You stood stiffly near your vanity, arms crossed tightly over your chest. Your gaze was guarded, your tone biting as you replied, “No, not really. I’m just hoping for an explanation—any explanation, really.”

Josh winced at your words but managed a dry chuckle. “Yeah, I figured as much.”

He looked up at you, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, self-deprecating smile, “I know I’ve been a really shitty boyfriend. And I’m so sorry for all the crappy things I’ve done. But... I don’t want to lose you, baby. I really don’t.”

You leaned against your vanity, your fingers gripping the edge as though it could steady you. Your voice softened slightly, but the edge of frustration still lingered. “But that’s not the truth, Josh.”

He looked away, guilt flickering across his face. Of course, you'd call him out. There was no way he’d get off that easily. “Yeah...” he murmured, his voice low. “That’s what I need to explain.”

Your silence was heavy, expectant.

Josh sighed, his hands rubbing over his jeans as if to release the tension coiling inside him. “I was hoping you’d just... I don’t know... kinda understand without me having to say it out loud.” He shook his head, a sad smile flickering briefly before fading. “But that’s not fair to you.”

He paused, his throat tightening as he tried to find the words. “I love you, baby. I don’t know how else to say it. I love you so much it scares the hell out of me sometimes."

Your voice cracked as tears welled in your eyes. “How about showing it, Josh?” you said, your words trembling. “I’m not trying to push you away—I’m holding on for dear life—but I need you to need me back.”

The sight of you breaking made Josh’s heart twist painfully. He stood, his movements slow and deliberate, before wrapping his arms tightly around you.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, his voice soft and pleading.

“Don’t cry, baby. Please don’t cry. I promise you—I do need you.” He pressed his lips to your hair, holding you like you might disappear.

You sobbed against his chest, your hands pushing weakly against him as you choked out, “Then why won’t you just tell me? Why do you need the medication? Where do you go when you disappear? Why won’t you let me all the way in?!”

Your words cut deeper than any knife, and Josh felt his resolve crumbling. He hated this—the way he was hurting you, the way his silence was tearing the two of you apart. He tightened his grip on you as though that alone could keep you two from unraveling completely.

“Baby…” He trailed off, his voice heavy with guilt. He couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes. How could he tell you?

How could he say the words he’d been terrified to utter? But lying—or saying nothing—would only hurt you more.

He took another shaky breath, his throat tightening as he finally said it. “Because I’m sick. Okay?”

You pulled back slightly, your brows furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean... sick?”

Josh’s hands tightened slightly on your waist as he closed his eyes, his voice barely above a whisper. “I-I have schizophrenia. I was diagnosed when I was twelve.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and raw. He couldn’t bear to look at you, couldn’t face the possibility of seeing disgust—or worse, pity—in your eyes.

“What?” your voice was small, almost inaudible, as you stared up at him, your tears momentarily forgotten.

Josh finally forced himself to look at you, his green eyes wide with vulnerability. “I didn’t want you to know because... because I was scared. Scared of how you’d see me. Scared of losing you.”

His voice cracked, and he ran a hand through his hair. “I hear things that aren’t there. I see things. I have these thoughts I can’t control, and... I didn’t want you to think I was crazy.”

Your heart sank as the weight of his confession settled over you. You reached up, cupping his face with trembling hands. “Josh,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the tears slipping down your cheeks. “You’re not crazy. You’re... you’re Josh.”

His furrowed his brows, and for a moment, he looked as though he couldn’t believe your words. “You don’t... you don’t think I’m broken?”

You shook your head firmly, your trembling hands still cradling his face. “You’re not broken, Josh. You’re human. And if you’re scared, let me be scared with you. I want to be here for you. But you have to let me.”

Josh’s throat tightened as he pulled you into his arms, holding you against his chest like you were his lifeline. He buried his face in your hair, his voice barely a whisper. “You still love me,” he murmured, attempting to lighten the heavy moment.

You scoffed, your voice muffled against his shirt. “Of course, I still love you, you idiot.”

Josh let out a quiet laugh, the sound soft and relieved. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands sliding up to cup your cheeks.

Gently, he brushed away the tears still clinging to your skin with his thumbs. “I know, I know—I’m an idiot. Just... stop crying, okay? It’s killing me.”

You let out a thick chuckle, sniffing as you wiped at your face with the back of your hand. “Fine, but you owe me a whole box of chocolates for this.”

“Deal,” Josh said, his lips quirking into a small, crooked smile. His hands slipped to your waist, anchoring you as though he was scared to let go.

You stepped back slightly, giving him a sheepish look. “Wanna stay for a movie? Something light, maybe?”

Josh smirked, tilting his head as though considering your suggestion. “Only if it’s horror.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “You call that light? Fine, but if I scream, you’re paying for my therapy.”

“Deal,” Josh said again, his voice warm and playful now.

“Alright,” you said, gesturing toward the bed. “Pick something while I go freshen up. And no weird indie stuff this time, I mean it.”

Josh raised his hands in mock surrender, a light grin tugging at his lips. “Scout’s honor. But no rom-coms either—I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

As you disappeared into the bathroom, Josh sat on the edge of your bed, trying to collect his thoughts. But something caught his eye, and his heart skipped a beat.

A small object was sticking out of the trash can beside your desk. His hand reached out almost instinctively, and his fingers closed around a small white stick—a pregnancy test.

Josh’s pulse quickened as he stared at it, feeling a knot form in his stomach. A small part of him prayed it would be negative, that the whole situation would be a misunderstanding, something you two could laugh off later.

The air around him suddenly felt thick, suffocating. A tidal wave of emotions crashed over him: happiness, fear, panic, and confusion.

He sat there, frozen for a moment, staring at the test in his hand as if it were some sort of cruel joke. Was he really about to become a father? At nineteen? Was he ready for this?

The sound of your voice broke through his haze, pulling him back to reality. “Josh?”

He looked up, his face pale, still holding the test between his fingers. The words felt heavy on his tongue, but they spilled out anyway.

“You’re… pregnant,” he said quietly, his gaze still locked on you as if the reality of it hadn’t fully hit him yet.

Your eyes flicked down to the test in his hand, and you let out a deep, small sigh. “Josh, it’s one line. That means negative,” you said, walking closer to him.

Josh’s heart thudded in his chest, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. He glanced down at the test again, now noticing how the faintest second line appeared to be nothing more than a shadow.

Josh swallowed hard, the embarrassment still fresh as he asked again, “It’s negative?”

You nodded softly, your shoulders slumping with a mixture of relief and lingering unease. “Yeah, it’s negative,” you murmured before sitting down beside him, your hands clasped tightly in her lap. “My period was late, and I just… I was so scared, Josh. I didn’t know what to do.”

He nodded slowly, letting out a breath as he placed the test back in the trashcan. “Well… it’s a good thing it’s negative, right?” His voice was light, almost hesitant, as if trying to gauge how you felt.

You didn’t respond right away. Your gaze was distant, fixed on the trashcan. “I told Emily,” you said quietly, her voice carrying a hint of sadness.

Josh frowned, his concern deepening. “What did she say?” he asked gently, noticing how your mood had darkened, your shoulders tightening.

Your lips trembled as you tried to keep your composure. “She said… she said I shouldn’t keep it if I was pregnant. That I’d make a terrible mom,” you said, your voice breaking slightly as you blinked back tears.

Josh’s eyes widened in disbelief, a flash of anger rising in his chest. “Why the hell would she say that?”

He shook his head, his expression softening as he turned towards you. “That’s such a shitty thing to say. Baby, you’d be an awesome mom someday.”

You shook your head, your pout deepening as you murmured, “She said we all turn out like our parents. And if I had a baby, I’d just end up like my mom… a bitter bitch.” Your voice cracked slightly, and you leaned your head against his shoulder for support.

Josh let out a soft sigh, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer so you were nestled against his chest. “That’s total bullshit. You're not a bitch, and you could never be one either. You have the biggest heart I know, and— and any kid would be lucky to have you as their mom.” he said firmly, rubbing your back in soothing circles.

You glanced up at him, your wide eyes shining with both doubt and hope. “Do you… do you want babies?” you asked softly, your voice laced with hesitation.

Josh blinked, the question catching him off guard. He leaned back slightly, thinking it over. “I… yeah, I think I do,” he admitted after a moment, his tone gentle but honest.

“It’s scary to think about, you know? But yeah… I’d really like that someday.” He smiled down at you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words. You bit your lip before asking hesitantly, “With me?”

Josh let out a soft laugh, cupping your cheek as he tilted your face up to meet his gaze. “Of course with you, silly. Who else would I want that with? You’re the only person I can imagine having a family with.”

A small, genuine smile broke across your face, warmth spreading through your chest. You tilted your head up slowly, your heart pounding as you closed the distance between the two of you.

Your lips met in a gentle, lingering kiss, the kind that made you feel like the world had melted away.

When you finally pulled apart, Josh rested his forehead against yours, his hands cradling your face. “See? You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

You let out a small, watery laugh, your fingers brushing away a stray tear. “You’re really good at this pep talk thing, you know, Mr Washington?”

“Hey, someone’s gotta be, Mrs Washington,” he teased with a grin, pulling you closer.

For the first time in a few months, you felt lighter, as though the storm clouds in your mind had started to part.

You didn’t know what the future held, but as long as Josh was by your side, you knew you could face anything.

[specialagentlokitty]

Buck x reader - my shield

A Buck (911) shy reader please? His friends thinks Buck is making things up that he has a girlfriend or shy reader picked her best friend to be they godfather of their newborn son who’s a mama boi. Then Buck thought it’s a good idea bringing his friend to the hospital to see his family - Anon💜

Buck smiled down at his phone as he saw the message notification from you, and he opened the text.

“What’s got you so happy?” Eddie asked.

Everyone looked up from where they were sat over to the young firefighter.

“My girlfriend messaged me.” Buck beamed.

“We’re still going on about that? Really?” Chim laughed.

Buck furrowed his brows a little bit.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we know you, you’ve probably slept with more women then everyone here combined. No offence.” Hen said.

Buck put his phone into his pocket.

“I’m capable of having a girlfriend!”

“We’re not saying that! We’re just saying it’s not likely.” Chin snickered.

Buck stormed away, and when his shift ended he immediately went to your apartment and knocked on the door.

It didn’t take long for you to answer, and one looked at him and you had your arms around him.

Buck hugged you tightly, burying his face into your shoulder as he let out a deep sigh.

You placed your hand on the back of his head and just held him for a few minutes in silence, standing out in the hallway of the apartment complex.

“What’s wrong…?” You whispered.

You pulled away and slowly dragged him into your apartment and closed the door, leading him over to the couch.

Sitting him down, you sat cross legged next to him, taking his hands in yours as you gazed at him.

“I’m.. im so fed up of everyone saying I don’t have a girlfriend!” He exclaimed.

You furrowed your brows a little bit.

“They think because I was a dick when I first joined I still am. But I’ve been trying to tell them for months I’m not like that anymore…” he mumbled.

You gave Bucks hands a small squeeze and smiled softly at him.

“I know you’re not Evan.”

He sighed softly.

“It’s just frustrating you know… I want them to believe me…”

You nodded your head in understanding.

“Well, they’re doing that BBQ tomorrow… right?”

Buck nodded his head and looked up at you.

“I’ll come with you.”

“You don’t like things like that.”

“No. But you do, and then they can see you’re telling the truth.”

You smiled sweetly up at him, and Buck smiled back, leaning down to capture you in a soft kiss before he pulled away.

“You’re amazing…”

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into him, cuddling you while you guys just watched some crappy films.

When the next day rolled around, you both got ready to go to the station for the BBQ.

It was his day off, but he said he’d go anyways, and since he was going you wanted to go with him to show everyone he wasn’t lying and you were real.

But as you guys drove there, you were nervous. You couldn’t stop fidgeting and when Buck pulled his car into a spot, he stopped and reached over, taking your hand in his.

“You don’t have to do this you know that right?”

He looked at you in concern and you smiled at him, nodding your head.

“I know. But I.. I want to.”

Buck smiled and nodded his head and you both got out of the car, and he took your hand in his, letting you hide yourself behind him slightly.

He smiled down at you.

“When you’re ready to go we’ll go.” He said softly.

“Thank you…”

He led you around the front of the building and you saw a group of people all laughing and talking.

“And he finally shows up!”

“Shut it Chim.” Buck snapped.

You squeeze his hand and he sighed, giving you an apologetic look.

“And he’s brought company, who’s this?” Bobby smiled.

“Guys, this is (Y/N). My girlfriend.”

You gave them a shy wave and all they could do was stare in shock as they looked at you.

You were so different from Buck, shy, quiet, but they could only smile warmly at the sight of you using him as your shield

[mcflymemes]

THE DA VINCI CODE (2006) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

you say you hate history. nobody hates history. they hate their own histories.

we are who we protect, i think. what we stand up for.

that's why we study history... so we'll stop killing each other.

can you keep secrets? can you know a thing and never say it again?

how many have been murdered over this question?

if it's so important to you to stop us, then you're just going to have to shoot us.

understanding our past determines actively our ability to understand the present.

tonight, this will be our quest.

how would you know that?

you seem... uncomfortable.

you have me confused with someone else.

why would i try to run? i didn't do anything.

will you excuse me a moment?

i was supposed to have drinks with him earlier this evening.

i waited for over an hour.

i'm afraid the police arrived more quickly than i anticipated.

you must follow me, please. for your own safety.

you knew they were coming?

if you step inside, please. time is of the essence.

you have not been honest with me.

you will leave this house!

your ruse is pathetic.

will you just tell us what the hell it's for?

i've jammed my shoulder, i've been shot at... i'm bleeding.

if we are to get away from here, we must find another way.

you can start with him.

do not react to this message.

you must follow my directions very closely. you are in grave danger.

i could run them over.

i can pretty much remember what i see.

sorry for all the mystery, [name].

i'm into something here that i cannot understand.

you should be ashamed.

if you would close your eyes...

well, that's a bit strange, isn't it?

how many wine glasses are there on the table?

there's virtually no empirical proof.

that is what they want you to believe.

that's a common misunderstanding.

you are saying all this is real?

you are an angel.

i am a ghost.

have you ever heard those words before?

why are you asking these things?

i am the messenger of god.

every breath you take is a sin.

you will be hunted by angels.

you believe in god? your god doesn't forgive murderers. he burns them.

do you mock me?

we are betrayed.

did they find it? this buried treasure?

i've never heard about any of this.

this is an old wives' tale.

now you're a psychologist too?

what will you do?

it's a rudimentary phallus.

the only thing that matters is what you believe.

i thought i was going to die.

sometimes i wonder if i wasn't alone down there.

maybe human is divine.

thank you... for bringing me here.

the mind sees what it chooses to see.

do i owe you money?

care to open up for an old colleague?

first, a test of honor.

shall i serve coffee or tea?

what would you do?

maybe there is no proof.

surely such a travesty has never occurred.

your heart is true.

they are used to keep secrets.

you used me.

we've been dragged into a world of people who think this stuff is real.

do you trust this man? i hope you can.

i don't follow.

stop now. tell me where it is.

i don't know what you are talking about.

is it a secret you will die for?

well, i must say, you two are anything but dull.

forgive the intrusion.

i'm not sure how much help i'm gonna be here this evening.

funny, i don't even like history.

i've never seen much good come from looking to the past.

are you a god-fearing man?

you're acting like you lost your mind.

[winwintea]

winwintea's super SEXY and COOL rec-list

author’s note ↬ i really need to start saving and liking half of the fics i read bc i end up not being able to find them again... a lot of these are smut (bc i am a whore sometimes) so mdni with those tagged with s!

last updated ↬ september 11th, 2024

𝐊𝐄𝐘 ↬

f — 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

a — 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭

h — 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞/𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 

s— 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍/𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾

𝖭𝖢𝖳 𝖣𝖱𝖤𝖠𝖬

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐋𝐄𝐄 ↬

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐱𝐢𝐞 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭 by @sehunniepotwrites ↳ disneyland au | f | 11.9k words 

There are so many ways your friend group could have chosen to celebrate your graduation from university but they chose the one way that fit their childlike antics most of all–going to Disneyland. With all the screams of joy and laughter filing the atmosphere, you see why people call it The Happiest Place on Earth. It’s where magic comes alive, hearts soar to the skies, and where dreams come true. With your dream job already lined up for you once you get back from this vacation, you wonder if your last and wildest fantasy–the one that carries Mark Lee endearingly close to your heart–will take flight. (But don’t worry; your best friends, with a little help of pixie dust, are determined to make it come alive by the end of night.)

perfection like literally. i love disney. so so so much.

𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 by @yojeongin ↳ husband au | s | 19.5k words 

all mark ever does is use weaponized incompetence to get out of small tasks you ask of him. when he finally realizes you resort to his close friends to do what he can’t— nothing can prepare him for what’s in your pandora box; now karma is set in motion.

toxic as hell... i didn't know what to think of myself after this. but it's extremely well written.

𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨 by @hazyhae ↳ plug + stoner au | a, f, s | 14.4k words 

a high slip up cost you mark lee years ago, and you’ve spent years burying your memories of him ever since. the universe has other plans for you when your old friend starts a new career, smoking his way back into your life.

love love their work, even has a whole post dedicated to explaining weed basics 101 which i appreciate. A LOT

𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 by @spiderm444rk↳ smau | f | ongoing

you, as the promising journalism student of NCUT, were more than willing to join the school magazine when you got offered. to your disappointment, the only section they let you have is the anonymous confessions one - which is mostly really, really boring. i mean, who even posts any cool confessions nowadays ? especially in a damn college magazine ? they only offered you the job no one else wanted. on the other hand, mark, a business student, was never more annoyed with the choice of his major. sure, business is cool and hopefully it’ll earn him money, but it’s not something he could really get into. he always wanted to do music. but after long considering, he chose business instead, to make sure he gets a real job in the future. and he doubts that choice was correct more and more every day. once the school band announces they’re looking for a new guitarist, he’s absolutely ready to apply until he reads the ‘music students only’ part. pissed off, he starts typing a message to the gc, but it ends up going to a different number - and you finally get to help some poor random stranger who confessed with something interesting.

sucker for mark lee and bands 😋😋

𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐞𝐛𝐬 by @https-lvesick ↳ spiderman smau | a, f | ongoing

toronto has never been so chaotic, but things are working out since the spiders appeared to save the citizens. spiderman and silk are the city's biggest saviours and they count on them to keep them safe, even the police. but, aside from their big responsibilities, they’re just teenagers, trying to be themselves and keep their grades good, trying to have a social life and maybe a love life as successful as their superhero life. but… what’s easier to tell? that you have a crush on your best friend or that you’re a mutant superhero?

so so so so hyped for this since it started and excited for it still... a spiderman smau is just so good especially for mark <33

𝐇𝐔𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐍 ↬

𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 by @strrykais ↳ fantasy au + smau | f, a | ongoing

did you know that angels walk the earth before they get accepted into heaven, being tasked to watch over a human and complete their assignment. renjun was excited to finally have the chance to earn his wings, until he finds out his task is getting you to love life. a very depressed girl meets a very desperate boy, can they learn that maybe staying on earth isn't such a bad thing after all.

so hyped for this one actually even though it's the newest one on this list i think.

𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐭𝐰𝐨. 𝐭𝐞𝐧. by @zchl ↳ angsty little drabble | a | 1k words

(doesnt have a summary) renjun in the hospital, you're waiting for news.

literally broke me.

𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 by @hwanchaesong ↳ exes to lovers | a, f | 1.1k words

[part of the after hours series] Y'all bring gravity to shame because even with its constant pull of 9.81 m/s^2, it still can't put your drunken pieces back together.

the series is so good check it out. this one is my fav though, it's just honestly a scenario i've never thought about before.

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐉𝐄𝐍𝐎 ↬

𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 by @hazyhae ↳ fwb to lovers + plug!jeno | f, a, s | 4.7k words

jeno doesn't think he's ever felt this restless in his life. maybe he's been smoking a bad batch of flower, or maybe it's the fact that you haven't knocked on his door in over a month.

oh god. jeno isn't even one of my ults or wreckers but damn this hits the spot actually?

8 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 by @nanaxwii ↳ friends to lovers | f, a, | 1.3k words

Why do all good stories come to an end? Why don’t we try to make it work? It just takes 8 letters to fix it all, or does it…?

loving this one... it's filled with tooth rotting fluff that's so cute omg... i love them.

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐂𝐊 ↬

𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫 by @lyvhie ↳ established relationship | f | 2k words

you just want to show your boyfriend how important he is to you.

like the title it's literally so sweet... tooth-rotting fluff

𝐩𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞 by @lqfiles ↳ smau | f | ongoing

after getting evicted out of your old place, you're left with no other choice but to look for a cheaper alternative. which is how you end up becoming neighbors with lee haechan, who has a passion for music and disturbing whatever peace and quiet there is. or in which you found yourself a very nice apartment, the only issue? your neighbor is your friend's somewhat ex-situationship who won't stop playing his guitar at 2 am in the night.

you will absolutely shit yourself reading this (in a good way dare i say?)

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐧 by @diorcities ↳ ballet au | s, h | 20.9k words

docile bodies loaded with lethal venom and betrayals are commonplace in the prestigious academy, and you happen to be their new prey when you're given the starring role with the smooth seducer with the devil's carved grin that everyone desperately desires: haechan

probably the filthiest one on this list? read the tags before reading, might be too much. it's just extremely poetic...

𝐍𝐀 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍 ↬

𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 by @polarisjisung ↳ fighter au | a, f | 2.7k words

it's routine— you patch up his wounds and watch them heal, he salts your wounds but doesn't stick around long enough to watch them grow.

i hate you for this hua (esp part 2) but i also love to drown in angst

𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 by @markiemelon ↳ friends to lovers(?) au | f | idk lol

going over to jaem's house to crash a couple of times leads to something...

this was so sweet omg

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭 by @polarisjisung ↳ enemies to lovers smau | f, a | ongoing

going ovevery college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easierer to jaem's house to crash a couple of times leads to something...

unfortunately i cannot put cherry flavored, but this is just as good. check it out!!!

𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐄 ↬

𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧 by @lowkeychenle ↳ friends to lovers(?) au | s, f, a | 9k words

Chenle is everything you want--everything you need. Somehow, the thought of him manages to pull you back in even after you were free. Messy kisses, late night trysts, and him tracing the word 'mine' on your thigh--barely anything, so how could you possibly be guilty as sin? (based on Guilty As Sin? by Taylor Swift)

fucked me over so badly.

𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭! by @wonbin-truther ↳ idol smau | f | smau

idol chenle x idol reader try to avoid dating rumors

this was SOO FUNNY

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 by @lyvhie ↳ established relationship | s | 2.5k words

a stupid little game seems to be enough to make you speak with recklessness and throw reason out of the window in the heat of the moment. but since you were unwilling to be so easily placated, chenle was decided to talk some sense into you.

i fully choked the day i read this. had to take a breather omg 😵😵

𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞 by @mins-fins ↳ royalty au | f, a | 22.7k words

where crown prince zhong chenle, forced into a marriage with a woman he doesn't like and riddled with complicated feelings, finds solace in the palace's very own medic, you.

actually such a sucker for royalty fics... and chenle is so prince coded

𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐮𝐭𝐲 by @aehyei ↳ parallel universe + time traveling au | f, a | 6.4k words

After a long day of stressful practice, Chenle finds himself in deep sleep on his bed and wakes up when a strange child that came from nowhere jumped on him—scaring him in the progress. To add to everything, the young idol learns that he just traveled to the future and is able to meet his future daughter. But will Chenle be able to be that great husband and father when he doesn’t even have a single clue on what’s going on?

one of my ABSOLUTE FAVORITES I HAVE EVER READ. if you're gonna read any of these read this.

𝐒𝐄𝐑Á 𝐔𝐍𝐀 𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐋𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 by @galacticseonghwa ↳ biker smau | f, a, s | ongoing

your friends were all you needed, they were your brothers from another mother they loved to say. but that all went to shit after ricky dragged you to one of his motorbike sprints. who are you to say no when ricky's opponent claws his way into your inner circle and present himself as your dream man?

really really good and underrated... i love chenle can you tell...

𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 by @chenlesfavorite ↳ motorcyclist smau | f, a | ongoing

working night shifts 24/7 at the convenience store while also supporting your boyfriend’s obsession with watching motorcyclists race is not easy, but little did you know that one of the bikers that he loves soon gets involved with you.

wdym this is ending soon... no way.... im gonna cry wtf

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆 ↬

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐮𝐫 𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 by @aehyei ↳ high school au | f | 7.2k words

You love stories. If anyone would ask, you’d rather live in it then wake up another day in a world where everyone’s having the love story you’ve been daydreaming about. Of course falling in love with your best friend never came across your mind so it was a bit of a mess when you realized Jisung didn’t only view you as a ‘friend’. 

so so so so sos sos cute omfghsdjsah

𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 by @jirsungs ↳ college smau | f | completed

a story about a college student enjoying her life in school perfectly fine, until one of her friends drags the group along to watch their school's band perform. little did she know that day would be marked as the day her whole world turned upside down because of a particular, nonchalant, and difficult drummer boy. a drummer boy who spilled his entire drink on her brand new outfit at a party and never came back.

i actually binged this in a day bc it was so good

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝 by @babbymochiiii ↳ discord call au (if you know where this is going...) | s | ??? words

you and jisung have discord date night, where things take a turn.

sorry guys im.. a little shameless sometimes...

𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 ↬

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 by @jaysng ↳ friends to lovers | f | idk lol

jay and mute reader both seem to like each other, just when he thinks that his confession was a pure failure the reader does something surprising.

this was just so sweet i literally fell in love with him all over again

𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞 by @yeonzzzn ↳ zombie apocalypse au | f, h, a, s | 26.2k words

in the middle of the apocalypse, you and jay find each other in a situation of life and death, using the protection of each other to get to the next safe zone. unfortunately for the both of you, things take a turn once secrets get revealed and the fight for survival becomes greater.

probably one of my personal favorites on this list teehee. i love jay park.

𝐖𝐄𝐍 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐔𝐈 ↬

𝐩𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨 by @wheeboo ↳ dark + psychiatric facility au | f, a, h | 12.8k words

in which a new patient is assigned for treatment under your care, and you begin to put the puzzles and pieces together to a past case that you thought to have ceased away from your mind.

literally had me gripping the edge of my seat as i read this

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐇𝐄𝐄 ↬

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨 by @wonbin-truther ↳ influencers smau | f, a | ongoing

sohee was a well known streamer, having grown his fanbase over covid with the game minecraft and slowly branched into other games along with sponsorships and modeling offers. he was also well known for being your number one twitter fanboy, never missing one of your posts even if fashion wasn't his greatest interest. what happens when a modeling gig brings him face to face with you?

this was a really sweet smau omfg... and sohee streamer just makes so much sense...

𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍 ↬

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 by @sehunniepot ↳ disneyland cast member au | f, a, h | 12.8k words

in which a new patient is assigned for treatment under your care, and you begin to put the puzzles and pieces together to a past case that you thought to have ceased away from your mind.

if y'all have anything disney related send my way cause i'll literally eat it all up. JUST LIKE THIS ONE.

𝐌𝐀𝐄𝐃𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐔 ↬

𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐝 by @slytherinshua ↳ established relationship | f | ~500 words

jealous riku over seiji from whisper of the heart

i need more riku content omfg. ALSO THIS IS PERFECT? ITS JUST A DRABBLE BUT I LOVE IT SO MUCH?

SEND ME UR FICS SO I CAN READ THEM BTW !!!! i'll try to update this as often as i can... or maybe make more depending on the amount on here, but thank you all so much for the wonderful stories <33

[clockwayswrites]

A Broken Sort of Normal, Part 18

WC: 1565, Masterpost

“Here to bring me to a debrief?” Danny asks the shadow lurking in the doorway. He swears that Batman almost looks chastised at that. “It’s fine, Batman, I know how these things work.”

“The core Titans are insisting on being there, for moral support,” Batman rumbles. “If you aren’t comfortable with that, they’ll be sent away.”

Danny chuckles; that really is like them. “No, I might as well only go through it all once. Besides, that’s sweet. Can I at least take the time to put on real clothing?”

Batman narrows his eyes at Danny. “You’re still injured. Loose clothing only.”

“Gods, how does no one see what a dad you are,” Danny teases.

Batman smiles, just for a moment, before he turns to sweep over dramatically out of the room. “I’ll send in Flash with some approved clothing.”

“That better be my Flash you’re sending in!” Danny calls after Batman. When the doorway is free of the luring hero, Danny lets himself fall back against the pile of pillows.

A debrief. How is he supposed to explain any of this? So far he hasn’t been allowed to explain things, really. Part of it is that he’s spent most of the last several days asleep. When he has been awake, it’s to a rotating cast of heroes; all heroes that he was close to and knew behind the mask. With every able bodied hero busy with clean up, no one has been able to stay long. He sees Barry the most, what with the other’s leg, but even Barry is busy helping coordinate the recovery efforts.

(Danny’s also pretty sure that they’re using the chance to visit him as a way to make people take a break.)

While the heroes are with him, it’s been mostly Danny getting updated on everyone and whoever is with him getting information to update everyone else with. They won’t even let him work, but they do pass on information about his crews at least. It’s Wally who’s with him the most. Wally was there the first time Danny woke and as Danny breathed through panic attacks and to patiently reply to the endless stream of messages for Danny.

Speak of the devil… Danny’s phone chimes again.

He can’t look at it.

He hasn’t been able to look at it since the first message from Jasmine came in. Since they all remembered.

Wally hadn’t asked. He had just let Danny shake apart in his arms and has handled Danny’s phone from then on. ‘This is Danny’s boyfriend. He’s alive and will recover. He’ll contact you at a later time.’

“I thought we put that thing on silent,” Wally says with a glare at the phone as he steps into the room.

Danny makes shameless grabby hands at the clothing. “So did I. Who is it?”

Danny’s proud that his voice doesn’t shake at the question.

Maybe it’s fair that they’ve all been avoiding the big big questions. Maybe it really is obvious that he’s still only hanging on by a thread. He certainly feels less like a live wire and more like the one, stubborn fuse still humming in the circuit breaker.

He certainly feels weak.

“Jasmine again.”

Danny sucks in a staggered breath and lets it out slowly. “Just… just tell her that I’m sorry, but I can’t yet.”

Wally presses a kiss to Danny’s temple. “I’ll remind her that you’re healing too. You just worry about getting dressed.”

“What, don’t want to help out with that part?” teases Danny as he undid the tie at the base of his neck. The Watchtower might have pretty nice quality, but any medical garb was going to be a little scratchy, and Danny is glad to have it off. He’s careful with his taped over IV port as he slides on the plain white shirt and then the well worn hoodie. It has a faded Nightwing logo and smells like Wally.

Something in Danny’s chest relaxes a little as he buries his face into the fabric and it nearly makes him sob.

“Danny?”

Danny just shakes his head.

“Oh, babe, it’s okay, I’m here. I have you.” Wally tosses the phone onto the bed and wraps Danny up into a hug. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been around—”

“Don’t, you were saving lives,” Danny says and tucks his face against Wally’s neck. “It’s what you needed to be doing.”

“Yeah, well, I’m here now. I’ve officially been pulled off duty. My job right now is you.”

“I don’t want to take you away from anything important.”

“You aren’t. Babe, you’re why we’re all still here. Let yourself be cared for, okay? I promise if anything comes up that really needs my help I’ll go, but let me make you my priority,” Wally urges.

Danny closes his eyes. “I told myself I’d never ask that of you. I know what you are.”

“You aren’t, I’m offering. Please, babe, let me make you my priority.”

He wants to. Gods does he want to. He wants to go back home to their apartment and have Wally with him and just let the other take care of everything, just for a little bit, just until it stopped feeling like his insides were hollow. Just until he could be okay enough to lie and say that he was fine.

Just until then.

“Okay. I— yeah, okay. I think I need that right now,” Danny manages to admit.

“Thank you,” Wally whispers like it was Danny doing him the great service. “First act, let’s get you out of those pants.”

“You cad,” Danny gasps dramatically.

Wally rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling now so Danny counts it as a win. “And get you into the sweatpants.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to debrief in sweats,” Danny says as he lets Wally help him finish changing. He’s a little less balanced in his feet than he’d like to be.

Okay, a lot less balanced.

Wally doesn’t even let him walk to the debrief, instead he insists on pushing Danny there in a wheelchair. Danny knows there’s no shame in needing a wheelchair, but it doesn’t help him be less frustrated at the way he feels weak down to his bones. Hell, he feels weak down to is core. At least he gets to move himself to a regular chair once they’re inside the conference room.

"Thank you for being willing to do this, Danny,” Wonder Woman says. She’s leaning forward, arms resting on the table, and offering a smile. At the table is a selection of other top tier members: Batman, Superman, a Green Lantern (Hal Jordan in this case), John Constantine, Zatanna, and, right next to Danny, Barry.

The Titans are off to the side, slightly behind the Dark members, in chairs that were obviously dragged into the room. Garfield gives Danny an enthusiastic thumbs up that almost makes him laugh.

“Of course. I get why there are questions,” Danny says instead.

“There are,” Superman agreed. “Now, as you aren’t a Justice League member and are in no way under any sort of investigation, this is going to be a bit informal. We’re just trying to make sure our report on recent events are as clear as possible.”

Danny huffs out a breath of air. His gaze darts over to Wally before dropping. “It’s a big more than that, isn’t it?”

“Kid?” Barry asks gently.

“You all want to know what I am, which is fair. If I could have, I would have told you.” Danny looks back at Wally again and gives a half hearted smile. “Sorry I couldn’t.”

“Why couldn’t you?” Batman asks, though the rumble of words isn’t unkind.

A sour smile twists Danny’s lips. “Curses are like that. Aren't they, Laughing Magician?” Danny hears Constantine and sucks in a breath and steels himself to look up at him. “How much do you know about her? About Desiree?”

Constantine shakes his head. “Not much. It’s not wise to go digging into the affairs of a member of the Infinite Realms, even an ended one.”

“Speak normal for the rest of us,” Hal says. “A who of what?”

“Infinite realms. That means a sodding ghost,” Constantine snaps.

Barry scoffs. “Ghost’s aren’t real.”

“Boo,” Danny replies. His smile is slightly too wide.

“Not funny, Danny.”

Danny shrugs. “Not trying to be. I’m half ghost.”

“How is someone half ghost?” Hal asks.

“I’m like Schrödinger’s Cat,” Danny explains. He can’t help for for his gaze to flick over to where the Titans are sitting and find Wally’s eyes. “I’m still in the box, basically. I’m half alive and half dead. Both and neither. A balance.”

“A myth.” Constantine leans forward. He taps the butt of his unlit cigarette against the table. “Or so we always thought. You telling me that you’re a halfa?”

The question pulls Danny’s focus back to the main table of heroes. “Yep. One of three. Me, my godfather, and my clone.”

Superman clears his throat. “Ah, your clone?”

Danny just gives another shrug. “Shit gets weird when you’re a teenage vigilante.”

“Danny,” Batman says, and Danny can’t help but smile again because the man is clearly one step away from pinching the bridge of his nose like he does as Bruce when one of his children is driving him mad. “Start from the beginning. State your name for the record.”

“Danny Jasper Fenton.”

---

AN: Vote was in favor of splitting it up. I've got a chunk of the next part written, so hopefully I can get it finished up next week! Sorry if there are lots of issues, words and me are struggling atm.

Poor Danny is really struggling with things as his world has once again changed. And what will everyone think of him now...?

I no longer tag, instead you can subscribe to the masterpost.

[drchucktingle]

Good day Dr. Tingle. I haven't read your stories, but I've known about you from afar in this website for a while. Your recent post about separating Ideas and Message is very similar to how I teach a class. I wanted to ask you, if you could share some of your Messages, in whichever structure/length/complexity you think about them before writing, to have some real world examples to show in class.

Personally I tend to simplify and shorten my messages as much as possible, like "everyone deserves forgiveness" for example, so that I can permeate it throughout the story, and so that anyone experiencing the story can come to a similarish conclusion.

I'm curious as to how your Messages look like inside your head, during the creative process. Not the refined versions used for marketing and sales and stuff.

Thank you!

sure buckaroo.

high concept idea of the book STRAIGHT was this: zombie apocalypse story but the rage only effects straight cis people (there is also a second high concept idea in there which is: what if zombie plague only happened one day a year? how would culture handle this politically and otherwise?)

so i had this idea that i thought was good, but before i can write it i think 'well what do i want to SAY about this? what am i FEELING?'

and i realized that i was a little torn about how to write this story because of the one day a year thing. when is it okay to fight back? can you hurt a zombie if it turns back into a person the next day? is that right or wrong? and WHEN is it right or wrong? what situations?

then i realized that with the metaphor of this story what i was really asking was something bigger: why is it up to the victims (in this case queer buckaroos) to be forced to make these decisions? marginalized groups have TWO kinds of violations done to them, the first is the obvious act of violation, but the second is that they are forced to use their time and mental space and emotional tolerance to learn how to HANDLE the first violation in an 'acceptable way'

so THAT became my message. if you want to know how i feel about these questions you can read STRAIGHT and find out.

CAMP DAMASCUS high concept idea was (SPOILERS IF YOU HAVE NOT READ CAMP DAMASCUS STOP READING HERE) what if the church really DID decide the ends justify the means and instead of stopping demonic possession they were inflicting demonic possession to counter sinful acts.

but that is not the message of the book. that is just the idea. if i just had that idea i would not write it, but as things evolved i realized WHAT i wanted to say with this story

in this situation WHO is the force of 'evil'? would it be the demons? would it be the possessed? or would it be the SYSTEM AND MENTALITY that was creating this situation in the first place? so the book sets out the answer this question and express the conclusion that ive made for myself

i also noticed that many churches who are anti gay have a sort of infantilizing trot with how they handle their young buckaroos. this idea that gay feelings will just go away if they are ignored and that they can almost keep young queer buckaroos from ever aging into fully realized adults. obviously i think this is WRONG and so fighting back against this mentality became part of the message as well, and that informed most of the metaphor and symbolism in the book.

it is important to keep in mind that sometimes the message can change. as the book trots along i am LEARNING myself, working out these thoughts on the page and coming to a conclusion of my own. this is actually VERY true of BURY YOUR GAYS, which is probably most autobiographical thing i have written. i will save talking about that MESSAGE and HIGH CONCEPT for after book is out though

EDIT FOR CLARITY OF MY WAY:

when i say i write MESSAGE FIRST that does not mean i think of the message first in TIME (although that does happen sometimes) it means the message is the most important thing over plot or characters or anything like that (although those are important too). it means that i write with message as my north star, which is rare, but it is how i make art