#and the rest of the firsts let’s be real

[multific]

A Father’s Devotion

Emperor Geta x Reader

Summary: Your pregnancy brought along new worries. But deep down, under the worry and uncertainty, your husband was thrilled to have a child with you.

When you told Geta that you were expecting, his reaction was one you’d never forget.

He stood frozen for a moment, his hands hovering in hesitation before finally resting gently on your shoulders.

“A child,” he repeated softly as if the words carried the weight of the world. Then, a rare smile broke across his face, and he pulled you into a warm hug. “Our child,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

Happiness flows through both of you.

From that day on, Geta’s attentiveness bordered on obsessive.

He made sure your every need was met, from fresh fruits delivered daily to arranging the softest pillows for your comfort.

He refused to let you walk alone, always by your side and always watching over you.

“Should you even be climbing these steps?” he’d ask, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at the staircase as if it posed some hidden danger. As if the stairs would somehow move on their own just to hurt you.

“I’ve been climbing these exact steps every day, Geta,” you’d reply with a small laugh.

“Yes, but now you carry our future,” he’d insist, his tone a mix of humour and genuine concern.

As your belly grew, so did his worries and his obsession deepened.

He spent long evenings learning about childbirth and asked for advice from trusted healers.

Sitting by your side, he often spoke about his own childhood, his voice tinged with both nostalgia and hope. Hope to be a better father.

But there was also fear. Fear of failure during which you had to reassure your husband.

When the day of the birth arrived, Geta was almost unrecognizable in his nervousness.

Normally composed and commanding, he paced the halls outside your chamber, his face etched with worry.

The sound of your cries from within made him stop in his tracks, his fists clenched at his sides. He wanted nothing more than to barge in and hold your hand.

His brother was there with him however Geta didn't hear a word Caracalla said.

Caracalla tried his best to calm his brother. But his words fell on deaf ears.

Despite tradition dictating that Geta remain outside, he lingered close to the door, hoping to catch any words from the midwife, he stood silently.

His heart ached at every cry you let out.

How could he stand outside when you were in pain? How can tradition dictate that he mustn't enter? How cruel it truly was to hear the woman you love suffer while he sat outside.

Finally, the door opened, and he nearly slipped in his rush to hear the news.

"How's my wife?" he asked.

“A healthy son,” the midwife announced, smiling warmly.

Since he didn't get the answer he wanted, he rushed inside.

His heart nearly fell out of his chest with worry as he entered. His gaze fell on you. You looked so tired yet you were glowing with happiness. He almost didn't even notice the bundle of joy in your arms.

“Come meet your son,” you said softly, your voice filled with love despite your exhaustion.

Geta moved closer, almost cautiously, as though afraid the moment wasn’t real. He checked on you first.

When the baby was placed into his arms, he finally looked at his son.

He sat down by your legs, admiring both of you.

“He’s perfect,” Geta murmured, his voice breaking slightly. “Just like you, My Empress.”

"Congratulations, Brother!" Caracalla said as he entered the room.

In the days that followed, Geta was completely dedicated.

He insisted on being part of everything when it came to your son. He was determined to not let anyone else close to your son.

Whether it was holding the baby boy in the quiet hours of the night, soothing his cries, or attempting to sing him lullabies, Geta wanted to be a part of it.

It helped you heal fast but it also melted your heart to know your husband was so devoted. You feared he wouldn't want to even hold your baby, and yet there he was, softly humming a tune as he lulled your son to sleep.

One evening, as you watched him cradle your son by the fire, you couldn’t help but smile.

“You’ve changed,” you teased gently.

He looked up at you, his features turned to confusion.

“Changed?”

“Yes,” you said, moving closer. “The Emperor of Rome, completely undone by someone so small he can’t even hold his head up.”

Geta chuckled, the sound warm and genuine.

“He’s my son,” he replied simply, before reaching out to pull you into his arms as well. “And you... My Darling Wife, you’ve given me everything I didn’t realize I was missing.”

As the baby stirred in his arms, Geta pressed a kiss to your forehead.

At that moment, the weight of the Empire faded into the background, leaving only the love shared between the three of you.

Gladiator II Collection

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief  

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen @brevlada24

@mel-vaz @akamitrani @ange-olras @nicholaschavezslut69

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[crazyvik97rpg]

Wow, William‘s moans were absolutely delicious and lewd, Sebastian’s own cock twitched and pulsed just hearing them while sucking him off. Heh, not so fast though, William needed a bit of a relaxing phase before proceeding further or he would just cum instantly for real. Sebastian snorted when William said he let him cum inside every time: „Oh, shush, that’s not true. I only let you cum inside when you manage to satisfy me so well. As if you could hold back anyway…“, he smirked. Of course William managed to satisfy him always – that was the whole joke here, heh. Aside from the fact that Sebastian enjoyed the act a lot in itself.

As for what kind of position William wanted – he chose something quite nice. Sebastian‘s eyes lit up a little in excitement. It wasn’t missionary but not something completely crazy either. „Ohh yes, sounds lovely…do take me, love, I‘m all yours…“, Sebastian purred and gently shifted on the bed, shifted around and waited for William to be ready to. First, preparation of course.

Still, Sebastian put his legs up on his shoulders, William would have good access to him anyway. The position was nice, comfortable and he put his head on the soft, comfy pillow right behind him. He wiggled his toes a little, smiled up at his beloved. Oh, he looked so good…his cock pushed a little against one of Sebastian’s buttcheeks and he could tell he was just so worked up. Sebastian was too. Hopefully it wouldn’t end up being a too short session. He was sure they‘d enjoy themselves either way though. Sebastian‘s own dick was resting patiently on his own stomach, balls somewhat tight and definitely full. They didn’t have action in a while – William’s also had to be close to bursting, heh.

For I have sinned...

The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes. 

William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times. 

“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?” 

William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.

“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”

“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…

***

Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?

So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.

After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.

The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them. 

He was in for a bit surprise.

@crazyvik97

[pandapetals]

Faking It

During sex, you fake an orgasm causing Logan to spiral. Once he confronts you about it, he wants to prove he can make you feel good without faking it.

logan howlett x fem!reader - established relationship, no reader description, no y/n used, faking an orgasm, self-loathing logan, slight angst, imagined worst logan but this gives dofp!logan too, vibes, smut, feral logan, p in v sex, oral, fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie 

a/n: idea from @yxtkiwiyxt - it ate away at my brain and being on my period really caused this to be born

divider credit: @enchanthings

Logan could feel everything. Every shift in your body, every flicker in your expression, every whispered contradiction between what you said and felt. He didn’t just sense when you lied—he absorbed it, like static in the air before a storm.

Now, with your body beneath his, every nerve in him was attuned to you. The heat of your skin pressed against his, the rhythmic creak of the mattress, the broken gasps you offered him—it was intoxicating. Yet it wasn’t enough. Something was off.

The faint furrow of your brow was his first clue. At first, he thought it was pleasure, that delicious kind of tension that came right before you unraveled. But then he felt the subtle stiffness in your thighs, the shallow way you breathed, and a flicker of doubt crackled through his chest. The feral part of him that craved, that demanded—urged him forward, driving him to thrust harder, deeper, desperate to coax something real out of you. He growled low in your ear, his voice rough with need.

“C’mon, pretty girl… make a mess for me,” he rasped, his teeth grazing the delicate line of your jaw.

You whimpered, but it wasn’t the sound he was chasing. And when the moan came—high-pitched, trembling, but hollow—it hit him like a cold slap to the face. It wasn’t real. He knew it wasn’t real.

His hands tightened on your hips as frustration swirled with something darker, something that felt too close to shame. His feral side snarled inside him, demanding he keep going, demanding release, and for one selfish, fleeting moment, he gave in. He pushed through, riding the edge until he spilled into you with a broken groan, collapsing onto the bed beside you as his chest heaved.

The room felt too quiet after, too still. Your fingers trailed idly over his chest, your touch soft and featherlight, but Logan’s body felt stiff beneath your hand. He turned his head, searching your face in the dim light, and when you offered a lazy smile, it was like glass shattering in his chest.

“I make you feel good, gorgeous?” he asked, his voice low and soft, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe he didn’t want to hear the answer.

“Uh-huh,” you murmured, snuggling closer to him like it was nothing. Like the lie wasn’t still hanging heavy in the air between you.

Logan wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t oblivious. That tiny, fake little moan echoed in his ears, replaying like a bad song on repeat. And it hurt. God, it hurt. He’d been in your bed, in your body, but not once had he felt like he was truly with you. Not tonight.

Still, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there as his thoughts churned. He held you close, feeling your breathing slow as sleep crept in, and though his arms tightened around you protectively, his mind refused to rest.

Why had you faked it? Was it him? Something he’d done—or something he hadn’t done? Did you not trust him enough to tell him? The questions coiled in his gut, twisting and knotting until frustration and hurt blurred together in a haze of anger. And yet, despite the heat crawling under his skin, he couldn’t bring himself to wake you. Not now. 

This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. Logan didn’t let things go easily—especially not when it came to you.

But figuring out how to bring it up? That wasn’t his strong suit. For a whole day, he sat on it, the frustration gnawing at him like a splinter buried too deep to pull out. He replayed every moment in his head: the way your body tensed, the way your fake moan had grated against his ears, the way you had smiled afterward like nothing had happened. By the time the sun had begun to set again, the weight of it had him wound so tight it felt like a rubber band about to snap. And, unfortunately for Wade, Logan’s rubber band tended to snap loudly.

The bar was dimly lit, its usual haze of stale beer and cigarette smoke clinging to the air. Logan sat nursing a whiskey he’d barely touched, his mood written all over his face. Wade, of course, was oblivious—or maybe just ignoring it. He leaned on the counter beside Logan, rambling on about some escapade Logan hadn’t bothered to keep track of. His jaw clenched tighter with every passing second until Wade finally poked the wrong bear.

“You’ve been pissy all day,” Wade said, squinting at Logan like he was examining a strange animal. “Let me guess, you finally found someone who doesn’t think your claws are sexy? Or—oh, wait—” Wade’s face lit up with a spark of mischief. “You’re telling me you couldn’t make your girlfriend orgasm?”

Logan stiffened.

“Oh, peanut,” Wade gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like he was genuinely heartbroken. “Say it ain’t so! The big bad Wolverine, all growls and muscles, and—nothing? Nada? No fireworks?”

Logan’s hand slammed down on the bar, the sound sharp enough to make a few heads turn. He rounded on Wade, eyes blazing, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about, so maybe shut your damn mouth before I shut it for you.”

Wade blinked, and there was a beat of silence—a rare occurrence for him. But it lasted all of two seconds before his lips quirked into a grin. “Ohhhh, I hit a nerve, didn’t I? Don’t worry, champ, it happens to the best of us. Well, not to me, obviously, but—”

“Wade.” Logan’s tone cut through the air like a blade. The room seemed to drop a few degrees as Logan pushed himself up from the barstool, his knuckles white against the edge of the counter. Wade threw up his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright! Geez, no need to go full Wolverine on me.” Wade stepped back, but not without muttering under his breath, “Touchy subject, huh?”

Logan ignored him. He grabbed his jacket and stormed out of the bar, his mind racing. Wade might be an idiot, but even idiots could land a hit when they weren’t aiming. The truth was, the jab had struck too close to home. He didn’t care about the idea of failure, not really—not when it came to anyone else. But with you? It felt like a crack in something he hadn’t even realized was fragile.

When Logan got back to your shared space, you were curled up on the couch, your feet tucked under you as you watched TV. The sight of you—so calm, so untouched by the storm that had been raging inside him all day—made something snap loose in his chest. He couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“Can we talk?” His voice was gruff, but quieter than you expected, almost hesitant.

You glanced up, surprised. “Of course. What’s wrong?”

Logan ran a hand through his hair, pacing a little before settling on the edge of the coffee table in front of you. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Last night,” he started, his voice strained. “Somethin’ was off. I know it. You know it. And I can’t stop thinkin’ about it.”

Your stomach twisted, guilt pooling in your chest. “Logan, I—”

“You faked it,” he said bluntly, cutting to the heart of it. His eyes finally lifted to meet yours, and the vulnerability there nearly knocked the wind out of you. “Why?”

The word hung in the air between you.

You swallowed hard, turning the TV off and shifting in your seat. “It wasn’t you,” you said quickly, wanting to get that part out first. “I mean, it wasn’t because of you. It’s… me.”

His brow furrowed, and he leaned back slightly, his arms crossing over his chest as he studied you. “What does that mean?”

You took a deep breath, your hands twisting in your lap. “I’ve been in my head lately,” you admitted. “I’ve been… struggling. With work, with stress, with feeling like I’m enough. And I guess last night, I just—” You hesitated, looking away. “I didn’t want you to feel like you weren’t enough. So I faked it.”

Logan stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he exhaled a low sound that was more frustration with himself than anything else. “Darlin’,” he said, his voice softer now. “You don’t have to fake anything with me. Ever.”

“I know,” you whispered, your throat tight. “I just… I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me?” Logan’s voice sharpened, and he leaned forward again, his hands reaching out to take yours. “You think that’s what this is about? I don’t care about some… performance. I care about you. And if somethin’s wrong, I wanna know. I wanna fix it, not pretend it doesn’t exist.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you gave a small nod. “I’m sorry,” you murmured.

He shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. Just… tell me when something’s wrong, okay?” His thumbs brushed over your knuckles, his voice softening again.

You managed a small smile, squeezing his hands. “Okay.” 

Logan’s lips brushed your forehead before he pulled you into his arms. His touch was warm, and grounding, but there was something beneath it—something deliberate. His hands settled on your hips like he was afraid you might pull away.

“Now,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “let me make you feel good.”

You tilted your head back to look at him, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “Logan, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine—”

He cut you off with a shake of his head, his thumb brushing over the curve of your waist. “No, you’re not,” he said plainly, his tone gruff but tender. His eyes met yours, intense and unwavering, and his lips quirked into a faint smirk. “You’re stressed. I can see it. I can feel it.”

Your breath hitched as his hands slid down your arms, calloused fingertips trailing a path that sent shivers racing across your skin. “Let me take care of you,” he said, his voice softer now, more coaxing.

And honestly? There was no denying it. The idea of Logan worshipping your body—of losing yourself in the way he always seemed to know exactly what you needed—was too tempting to resist. You swallowed hard, your lips parting slightly as his gaze dropped to your mouth.

“I mean…” You tried to keep your voice steady, but it wavered as his hands slid lower, settling on the backs of your thighs. “If you insist…”

Logan let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Oh, I insist,” he drawled, his grip tightening just enough to make your stomach flip. Before you could process the thought, he was lifting you with ease, his strength as effortless as it was intoxicating.

The world tilted as he carried you to the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He laid you down with a kind of reverence that made your chest ache, his broad frame hovering over you. His lips found the delicate curve of your neck, and your breath hitched as he kissed his way down, the scrape of his stubble sending sparks skittering across your skin.

By the time his hands found the waistband of your underwear, you were already melting under his touch. He peeled them off slowly, his eyes darkening as they roamed your bare skin. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice thick with desire.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words dissolved into a soft gasp as his lips trailed lower, his mouth hot and insistent against your collarbone. His hands gripped your hips, grounding you as he shifted lower, and the anticipation coiled in your stomach like a live wire.

“Logan,” you whispered, his name slipping from your lips like a plea.

He glanced up at you, his smirk returning as he settled between your thighs. “Relax, darlin’,” he murmured, his hands spreading your legs with deliberate care. “Let me take my time with you.”

The first press of his mouth was soft and exploratory, but it didn’t stay that way for long. Logan was nothing if not thorough, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes that left you breathless. He watched your every reaction, the flicker of his eyes on you making it clear he was entirely in control—but completely devoted to you.

Your hands tangled in his hair as the tension inside you built, his name falling from your lips in broken whispers. He hummed against you, the vibrations making you arch into him, and he responded by gripping your hips tighter, holding you in place as he worked you closer and closer to the edge.

And when you finally came undone, shuddering and gasping beneath him, Logan didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow.

“Logan,” you gasped, your voice trembling as your body shook with aftershocks.

“Not done with you yet, pretty girl,” he rasped, his voice low and gravelly. His lips curved into a wicked grin, and before you could catch your breath, he dipped his head again, his mouth finding you with renewed purpose.

Time blurred after that, the world narrowing to the feel of him, the sound of him, the way he seemed utterly consumed by the act of worshipping every inch of you. By the time he finally let you catch your breath, your body was boneless, your mind a haze of blissful exhaustion.

Logan crawled up the bed, his lips brushing over your temple as he pulled you into his arms. His hands, still warm and steady, skimmed over your back, grounding you in the aftermath of it all.

“Better?” he asked, his voice soft now, full of quiet satisfaction.

You let out a shaky laugh, burying your face in his chest. “You could say that,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his skin.

Logan chuckled softly as he kissed the top of your head. His hand rested against the small of your back, fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin. “Good,” he murmured, his tone laced with smug satisfaction but dripping with affection. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

You nodded weakly, still catching your breath, your body feeling boneless in the aftermath of his touch. Every nerve was still humming, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady yourself. But then you felt it—a shift in the air, a change in the weight of the bed as Logan leaned forward.

Your eyes fluttered open just in time to see the smirk tugging at his lips, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief. He hovered above you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off his body.

His lips brushed over yours in a soft kiss making your heart stutter. “Logan,” you whispered, your voice barely above a whimper.

“I know,” he replied, his breath warm against your lips. “But I’m not done with you yet.” His voice was a low growl, rough edges softened by something tender and utterly consuming. “I just want to make you feel so good.”

You let out a breathless laugh, your head sinking back into the pillows. “You did, Logan. I promise—”

He cut you off with a smirk, the curve of his lips playful and dangerous. “Okay, then,” he drawled, his tone dropping to something darker, something that sent a shiver down your spine. “If you’re good, I want to hear you whimper my name.”

Before you could protest—or agree—his hand slid down your body, his touch slow and deliberate. His calloused fingertips brushed over your stomach, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, before they dipped lower, tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

Your breath hitched, your body instinctively arching toward him as his hand moved closer, teasing and torturously slow. Logan’s gaze never left yours, and the intensity in his eyes made your pulse race.

“Logan…” you moaned softly, his name slipping from your lips like a reflex as his fingers finally slid between your thighs.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble of satisfaction. His touch was firm but unhurried, exploring you with a focus that made your head spin. His thumb moved in a way that had your legs trembling, and when his fingers pressed exactly where you needed them, your back arched off the mattress, a gasp spilling from your lips.

“God, you’re perfect,” he muttered, almost to himself, as if he couldn’t quite believe the way you were unraveling beneath him. His free hand gripped your hip, holding you steady as he worked you closer and closer to the edge, the tension coiling tighter with every stroke.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak—all you could do was feel. Logan was relentless, his lips brushing against your neck, your collarbone, and your shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses that made your skin tingle. He alternated between soft and demanding, his touch a perfect balance of control and devotion.

“Logan,” you whimpered again, your voice breaking on the syllable as the pressure built impossibly high, teetering on the edge of something devastatingly good.

“There it is,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire, his lips ghosting over your ear. “That’s my girl.”

The words sent a jolt of heat straight through you, and with one more perfectly placed movement of his hand, you shattered. Your body arched into him as pleasure crashed over you, wave after wave, his name tumbling from your lips like a prayer.

Logan didn’t stop right away—he worked you through it, his hands steady, his lips murmuring quiet praises against your skin as you rode out the high. By the time the tremors subsided, you were trembling, your body utterly spent.

He finally pulled his hand away, his touch leaving a trail of warmth in its absence. Logan leaned down, brushing his lips over yours in a kiss. 

“Still with me, darlin’?” he asked, his voice soft, his smirk replaced with something gentler as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

You managed a weak nod, your body still buzzing, and Logan chuckled, the sound warm and rumbling.

“Good,” he murmured, pulling you into his arms. His hand slid up your back, holding you close as your head rested against his chest. “Because I think you’ve got one more in you.”

You let out a breathless laugh, your cheeks flushing. 

“What?” Logan murmured, his smirk teasing and wicked as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. His breath was warm against your skin, and the way his lips lingered made your stomach twist with anticipation. “Told you, I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you could reply, his hands began their slow descent, tracing the curves of your body with deliberate care. His palms were warm and rough, gliding over your hips and your thighs. Every touch felt like a promise he had no intention of breaking.

“Logan…” you started, but your words dissolved into a shaky exhale as his fingers found the sensitive spot just above your knee, kneading gently before sliding higher.

He shifted above you, his movements unhurried, his gaze dark and hungry as he took in the sight of you sprawled beneath him. “You can take it,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

You watched as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants, the fabric slipping down his hips in one fluid motion. The sight of him, the sheer confidence in how he moved, made your breath catch. He tossed the pants aside without a second thought, his smirk deepening as he leaned back over you, his body heat radiating against your skin.

“Give me one more,” he murmured, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear. His tone was soft but commanding, his words rolling over you like a wave, pulling you under.

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up, though it was breathless, tinged with disbelief at his sheer audacity. “I thought this was supposed to be about me feeling good,” you teased, your voice light, though your heart was pounding.

Logan’s lips quirked into a lopsided grin, but his eyes burned with intent. “Oh, it is,” he drawled, his hand sliding down to grip your thigh, pulling you flush against him. “But I’m pretty damn sure you’ll feel real good giving me what I want.”

The heat in his gaze sent a fresh rush of anticipation coursing through you, and you felt your teasing resolve falter. His fingers trailed over your skin, mapping every inch of you as if he were committing it to memory. When he shifted lower, pressing his lips to your collarbone, then to the soft curve of your breast, his mouth was hot and insistent, each kiss drawing soft gasps from your lips.

You barely had time to process the way his teeth grazed over your skin, sending sparks skittering down your spine, before his hips pressed against yours, his body slotting against yours perfectly. His movements were slow at first like he was savoring every reaction he pulled from you.

Then Logan whispered, husky and dripping with that dark, primal edge, “I want you to feel it everywhere, darlin’—every inch, every second. No faking this time.”

Your breath hitched, the intensity in his voice making your head spin, your body arching into him in a silent plea. Logan’s lips curved into a knowing smirk against your skin. His hands were everywhere—gripping, teasing, worshiping—making it impossible to think, let alone resist the pull of him.

As his mouth found yours, the kiss was all-consuming with the addictive mix of dominance and tenderness only Logan could manage. You clung to him, your hands sliding over the planes of his back, your nails digging in just enough to make him groan against your lips.

“You feelin’ good yet?” he teased, his voice low and rough, thick with need. His lips hovered over yours, close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath, but not quite touching, a maddening taunt that sent a fresh wave of anticipation rolling through you.

Your fingers curled against his shoulders, desperate to ground yourself as his pace shifted. He moved deeper, his hips rolling in a way that made your back arch off the bed, a gasp tumbling from your lips before you could stop it. The deliberate rhythm he’d kept moments ago began to unravel, his movements growing more intense, more insistent.

“Logan,” you whimpered, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer, shaky and breathless.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he growled, his voice rumbling in his chest like a distant storm. His lips brushed over your jawline, leaving a trail of heat as they trailed down to the sensitive spot just below your ear. When his teeth grazed your skin, a soft cry escaped you, your body tightening beneath him.

He groaned low, the sound vibrating against your neck, as your nails dug deeper into the muscles of his back. “So good for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with praise.

Your response came in broken gasps and soft whimpers, your head falling back as the sensations overwhelmed you. Each thrust was deliberate, calculated, but they grew harder, deeper, until your body melted into the mattress, pliant and trembling under him.

The tension in your stomach coiled tighter, white-hot, and electric until it felt like you might come undone. You couldn’t think, speak—could barely even hold on—your body responding to him instinctively, as though it were made just for this.

“Look at me,” Logan rasped, his voice pulling you back to him. Your eyes fluttered open, dazed, to find his gaze locked on yours, burning and unrelenting. “That’s it, pretty girl. I want to see you.”

His hips pressed into you again, hitting the spot so devastating that your eyes rolled back and a broken cry escaped your lips. You clung to him, your body trembling as pleasure surged through you, raw and overwhelming. His name spilled from your mouth in a whisper, soft and reverent, and it only seemed to spur him on.

“Good girl,” he muttered, his voice rough and frayed, his movements driving you higher and higher. “Just like that.”

When you finally broke, the world seemed to splinter apart, the sensation crashing over you in waves so intense you could hardly breathe. Your body arched into his, your thighs shaking as your release consumed you, dragging you under.

Logan slowed, his touch gentler now as you trembled in his arms. He pressed soft kisses to your neck, shoulder, and temple, breathing heavily and unevenly against your skin.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice softer now, warm and teasing as his lips ghosted over yours.

You managed a weak nod, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks, and he chuckled, his breath tickling your cheek.

“That’s my girl,” he said, his tone low and full of quiet pride. He tucked you closer against him, his arms wrapping around you protectively, and you let yourself melt into his warmth, utterly spent but completely safe in his embrace.

[verstappenverse]

Lost in the Spin

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: A night of celebration spirals into scandal when compromising photos surface leaving Max trapped in a media storm, battling rumours, and desperately fighting to prove his innocence to the woman he loves.

3.5k words / Masterlist

The hum of engines still echoed in Max’s ears, familiar after years on the track. His adrenaline faded after another win, but today, without you in the paddock, without your smile when he stepped out of the car, it all felt just a little hollow. No number of trophies could quite compare to the warmth of your arms wrapping around him, or the way you’d press a kiss to his sweaty cheek as he grinned ear to ear.

This weekend work had kept you away, and the emptiness gnawed at him. The paddock was colder, quieter without your laugh or your teasing smile before the race.

For years, you had been Max's anchor. From the early days when he was still finding his feet in Formula 1, to now, where he was reigning champion, you had always been the one he relied on. You understood him in a way that no one else did, his obsessive drive, his passion for the sport, and his thoughts about what came next.

There were nights when Max would come home from the track, emotionally spent, drained from the pressure and you’d pull him into bed, running your fingers through his hair as he rested his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat until he fell asleep. You never pushed him to talk, never tried to make him explain the unexplainable weight of his career. You just understood.

And now, without you here, he felt the absence keenly. He’d spent the day texting you between sessions, short conversations where you asked how things were going, and he asked about your day, but nothing felt like the real thing.

Most of the other drivers were still buzzing, and the team celebrations were just getting started. The victory champagne had already been sprayed, and the post-race media obligations were done.

“Mate, come on! We’re heading out,” Lando called from across the room, grinning as he waved his arms to grab Max’s attention. “You’re not skipping out on us are you?”

Max groaned inwardly but forced a smile as he pushed himself up from the couch. He didn’t really want to go. You weren’t here, and that always made everything feel... off. But they were his friends, and he didn’t want to bring the mood down.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” Max muttered, grabbing his jacket. Maybe if he went out for a couple of drinks he could slip out and go back to his hotel early. Maybe then he’d call you, see if you were still awake, and you could talk until you both fell asleep.

The night stretched on longer than Max had anticipated. The first couple of drinks went down easily, and before he knew it he was a few rounds deep.

“Max, man, you’ve gotta lighten up!” One of his engineers grinned, slinging an arm around him. “You won! Let loose!”

Max chuckled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, I know. I just... I miss her, you know?”

He gave him a sympathetic look, nodding. “I get it, mate. It’s hard when they’re not here. But hey, she’ll be proud when she sees you killed it today. She always is.”

“Yeah,” Max mumbled, taking another long sip of his drink.

The drinks kept coming, and Max’s thoughts became more and more scattered. The music was loud, the energy electric, he found himself pulled into random conversations, drinking more, and being swept up in the atmosphere. He briefly wondered what you were doing right now, probably getting ready for bed back home, maybe thinking about him, maybe—

“Hey, let’s take a photo!” someone shouted, interrupting his thoughts. Before Max could protest, a group gathered around him, pulling him in. He barely registered what was happening, his mind a swirling mix of booze and thoughts of you.

The next morning hit Max like a sledgehammer. His head pounded, his mouth dry as sandpaper. Groaning, he rolled over in bed squinting at the bright light filtering through the curtains of his hotel room. He fumbled for his phone on the nightstand, eyes still half-closed.

He had missed calls. Several, in fact. And dozens of unread texts.

The first thing he noticed was that they were almost all from you.

His stomach sank.

He immediately sat up, the haze of last night still fogging his memory. He scrolled through his notifications seeing message after message from you, at first they were light-hearted, asking how his night was going, but then as the hours went on they grew increasingly concerned and then... angry. He hadn’t even heard his phone go off last night. But why would you—?

And then he saw it. The photos.

There he was, in a series of several blurry, cropped photos, originally part of larger group shots that had been edited to focus solely on him and a girl he didn’t even recognise. His arm slung around her, though the angle of the photo made it seem much more intimate than it truly was. She was leaning into him, and in one of the images it appeared as though she was whispering in his ear—his grinning face too close to hers, the proximity creating an illusion of something more. In another her hand rested on his chest, her fingers brushing the fabric of his shirt, while his face tilted toward hers, their laughter caught mid-gesture.

And then, the worst of the bunch showed them so close that it looked as if their lips were just inches apart. The angle was impossible to decipher, the blur making everything uncertain, leaving the question of whether they were about to kiss or possibly already had.

“Shit,” Max cursed under his breath, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

His mind raced, trying to piece together the events of last night. He barely remembered the girl, didn’t even know her name, but now the entire world had seen them together. And worst of all, you had seen it.

He dialed your number immediately, his heart pounding in his chest. It rang once. Twice. Three times. Then it went to voicemail.

Max swore again, dialing you back right away. He was met with the same result.

“No, no, no... come on, please,” he muttered under his breath, quickly typing out a message.

Max:

Baby please call me. I need to explain. I didn’t do anything I swear. Please talk to me.

He sent it, but the ticks didn’t appear. You didn’t read it.

Frustration bubbled up in his chest, mixing with panic. He tried calling you again. Still nothing.

“Fuck, come on,” Max muttered, pacing the room as he tried again.

Straight to voicemail.

Max was worrying now, the events of the night before replaying in fragments in his mind. He hadn’t cheated. He was sure of it. He would never ever do that to you. But the photos... the way they looked. He couldn’t deny that they looked bad.

He looked to where they’d originally been posted and scrolled through the comments, his stomach turning with each one.

@f1fanatic:

Wow didn’t expect that from Max. Wonder how his girlfriend feels…

@paddockinsider:

This is so disappointing. Max always seemed so loyal. Looks like he couldn’t keep it together for one night.

@grandprixgossip:

Cheating rumors about Max Verstappen? Yikes, thought he was better than that.

The speculation was everywhere, spreading like wildfire. People were jumping to conclusions, dissecting every detail in the photos, claiming to know the truth about what had happened. It didn’t matter that Max knew nothing had happened—perception was everything, and it looked bad. Really bad.

Max's phone buzzed as he scrolled through another post, this one even worse. The headline screamed:

"MAX VERSTAPPEN CAUGHT CHEATING? EXCLUSIVE PHOTOS SHOW FLIRTING WITH MYSTERY WOMAN"

He felt sick.

More comments flooded in, each one more damning than the last.

@motorsportchatter:

Can’t believe Max would do this. Poor girl she doesn’t deserve that.

@f1drivergirls:

They were all over each other last night. Disgusting.

@paddockqueen:

I always thought there was something off about him. Fame’s clearly gone to his head.

Max’s head spun as he read the comments. It was like watching his entire reputation unravel in real time. Fans, media outlets, even people who barely knew anything about him were chiming in with their opinions, their judgments, their assumptions.

@F1Insider:

BREAKING: Max Verstappen seen partying with a mystery woman after race win.

He scrolled through more comments, his hands shaking. The social media storm was relentless. More media outlets were picking up the story, running with it, blowing the situation out of proportion.

@racingnews24:

Max Verstappen's off-track antics are making headlines today. Are the rumors true? Is he the latest F1 driver caught in a cheating scandal?

@f1gossip:

It's always the quiet ones. She’s better off with someone else.

@formulastyles:

Another guy who can’t keep it in his pants. Max seriously? Thought you were different.

Max’s breathing quickened, his chest tightening as he scrolled faster. He’d never cared much about social media. To him, it was just noise—a distraction from the things that really mattered. But right now that noise was deafening, and there was no way to escape it.

He clicked on one of the photos again, staring at the image of himself with the girl. The way her body leaned into his, the way his arm draped casually over her shoulders. The kind of picture that told a story all on its own, regardless of the truth. And in the age of instant judgment, perception was reality.

Max clenched his jaw, his mind racing. He hadn’t even known her. She was just some fan, some random girl who had been part of the celebration, someone he’d barely spoken to. But the photos didn’t care about the truth. They didn’t care that he’d been too drunk to notice how close she was standing, or that he hadn’t been thinking about anyone but you the entire weekend. All they showed was a snapshot—a moment out of context that painted him as the villain.

And now the entire world was running with that narrative.

His phone buzzed again, a new notification lighting up the screen.

@sportscelebgossip:

Max Verstappen seen cozying up to a mystery woman at a bar after his latest race win. Does this spell trouble for his long-term relationship?

Max’s stomach twisted. Cozying up? They made it sound like he’d been on a date, like he’d planned it, like he wanted to be with someone else. It was absurd, infuriating—but most of all, it was terrifying.

Max dropped his phone onto the bed, burying his face in his hands. How had things gotten this bad? He had always been careful, always tried to protect the privacy of your relationship, to keep it out of the public eye as much as possible. He never wanted you to get dragged into the chaos of his life, especially not like this.

He couldn’t stop the comments. He couldn’t erase the photos. And now, he couldn’t reach you.

He wanted to punch something, scream at someone, do anything to make it stop, but nothing would change the fact that you had seen the photos, and you thought he had betrayed you.

Max tossed his phone onto the bed, his frustration boiling over. His heart ached as he thought about what you must be feeling right now. He could picture you scrolling through the photos, reading all the horrible comments people were making online. He knew how it must look to you, like he had broke your trust, like he’d been out celebrating without a care in the world, getting close to someone else.

But that wasn’t what happened. It wasn’t. He had to make you understand. You had to believe him.

He stared at the screen, waiting, hoping to see the dots appear, telling him you were typing back. But nothing came. The dots never showed up.

The hours dragged on, and with each minute that passed, Max felt more and more trapped in his own head. You still weren’t answering his calls or texts. He had sent message after message, each one more desperate than the last, but still you gave him nothing in return.

His team had already started damage control telling him not to say anything publicly yet. “We’ll handle it,” they’d said. But Max didn’t care about the media. He didn’t care what the rest of the world thought of him. All he cared about was you.

His phone buzzed in his hand, and for a split second he thought it was you.

Daniel:

Hey man those photos are all over the place. You good?

Max stared at the message, unsure how to respond. Was he good? No. Not even close.

Max:

No. I’m not good. She won’t talk to me she won’t even answer my calls. I think she believes I cheated.

The response came almost immediately.

Daniel:

She knows you Max, she’s just hurt right now. Give her some time.

Time. That’s all anyone ever said in situations like this. But Max didn’t want to wait. He needed to fix this now.

His phone buzzed again, and his heart jumped when he saw it was you this time, but it wasn’t a call just a single heartbreaking text.

You:

Stop calling. I can’t talk to you right now I’m too upset to even think straight. I never thought you’d put me in this position. Give me some space.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Max stared at the screen, reading them over and over again, disbelief clouding his mind.

“No, no, no... fuck…this can’t be happening,” he whispered to himself.

He dialed your number again, it went straight to voicemail this time like you had turned your phone off, or worse blocked his number.

His throat tightened, a sense of helplessness washing over him. For the first time in years Max didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to make this right, how to fix the mess he was in.

You sat on the edge of your bed, the same spot where you’d been for hours, your phone clutched in your hand. You wanted to believe Max. You really did. But the photos...they looked so convincing. The way he had held her, the way she leaned into him, it made your stomach churn.

Max had never given you a reason to doubt him before, but seeing those images had stirred up insecurities you didn’t even know you had.

You wanted to talk to him. A part of you needed to hear his voice, to hear him explain what had happened. But you were afraid. Afraid that if you did, if he told you some half-hearted excuse or tried to brush it off, you’d believe him because you loved him too much to let him go.

The worst part was, you knew Max. You knew him better than anyone. And deep down, some part of you didn’t believe he’d cheat on you. Not Max. But doubt had crept in, planting seeds that grew with every hour.

Your phone buzzed again lighting up with another message from him. You glanced at it your heart aching as you saw his name. Part of you wanted to open it, but the pain was still too fresh.

You tossed the phone onto the cushion next to you, pulling your knees up to your chest as tears stung the corners of your eyes. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You had built something with Max, something solid, something real. And now it felt like it was slipping through your fingers because of one stupid night.

You grabbed your phone back to scroll through the photos again, your stomach twisting with every swipe. The comments were brutal, and while you knew better than to believe everything you read online, the pictures... they weren’t so easy to ignore. The images of Max and that girl were burned into your mind, replaying over and over until you felt physically ill.

You’d trusted him. For years, you had stood by his side, believing in him, loving him through everything. You had always known the kind of world he lived in—the parties, the media attention, the constant pressure to perform both on and off the track. But you had never questioned him. Not once. Until now.

You blinked back tears still scrolling mindlessly through social media, reading the comments from people who didn’t even know you. Strangers who were dissecting your relationship like it was some sort of spectacle, something to be debated and analysed.

@gossipgirls:

I feel so bad for his girlfriend. She seems so sweet, and now this? Max really messed up.

@racingqueen:

Cheating rumors about Max? Saw it coming tbh. Athletes, any of them can’t be trusted.

@formulamak:

I don't know why anyone shocked, let's be real these wags know what they sign up for

@fanofthewheel:

Honestly she should leave him.

Everyone seemed so sure of what had happened, so sure that Max had betrayed you. And as much as you didn’t want to believe it, the photos were right there, clear as day.

You wiped away a tear, feeling the pain of it all settle deep in your chest. You had loved him so fiercely, so completely. You had built your life around him, supported him through the highs and lows of his career, always believing in the man he was off the track. But now, it felt like you didn’t know him at all.

Max spent the entire day spiralling. He couldn’t reach you, couldn’t fix it, couldn’t even explain what had really happened. Every missed call felt like a weight pressing down on his chest, every unanswered text another punch to the gut.

He couldn’t stand the thought of losing you, not like this. But you weren’t answering, and the fear that you might actually believe the worst was starting to consume him.

By the time night fell, Max was a wreck. He sat on the edge of his hotel bed staring at his phone, willing it to light up with your name.

Daniel:

How are you holding up?

Max hesitated for a moment before responding.

Max:

Not great. She still won’t answer my calls. I think she believes it.

Daniel:

Have you tried showing her everything? Like, explain it step by step?

Max clenched his jaw, frustration bubbling to the surface.

Max:

I’ve tried. She probably thinks I’m lying. What if she really leaves?

Daniel:

It won’t come to that. She knows who you really are. It’ll be alright.

Max stared at Daniel’s words, wishing he could believe them. But the fear that you might not forgive him gnawed at his insides.

You had been there through it all—through the wins, the losses, the injuries, the late-night flights, and the endless media scrutiny. You had seen him at his worst and still loved him anyway.

Max swallowed the lump in his throat. He had to fix this. He couldn’t let this be the end of everything.

Later that night as you lay in bed the quiet of your apartment was deafening. Your phone buzzed again, and this time, you couldn’t help it—you reached for it, your heart in your throat.

Another message from Max.

Max:

Please, baby. I need you to listen I need you to believe me. I love you so much I would never, ever do this to you. You’re my world. Please, talk to me.

You stared at the message, the sincerity in his words was unmistakable. You typed a response, your fingers trembling as you hesitated over the words.

You:

Max, I don’t know what to believe right now. Those pictures…

The dots appeared almost immediately, and then his reply came through.

Max:

I know they look bad but I swear to you nothing happened. I didn’t cheat. I didn’t even talk to her for more than a few minutes. I was drunk and I didn’t even realise how close she was. But you have to believe me I would never do that to you. You know me. I love you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your heart pounding in your chest as you read his words. Part of you wanted to believe him so badly, but the doubt still lingered. Was he using the trust and love you had for him to get away with something? The thought made your stomach churn, but you didn’t believe he would be capable of that.

Your phone buzzed again.

Max:

Please. Just give me a chance to explain. We can talk in person. I can fly to you right now. Just... don’t walk away from this. Don’t walk away from us.

Tears welled in your eyes. You didn’t want to lose him. You didn’t want to throw away everything the two of you had. But you were scared—scared of being hurt, scared of trusting and finding out you were wrong. The thought of more photos or videos coming out, exposing more of what you didn’t want to see terrified you.

Finally you typed back a single word.

You:

Okay.

Max saw your message and felt like he could finally breathe again. It wasn’t everything, but it was something. You were willing to listen, willing to let him explain, and that was all he needed. He quickly typed a response.

Max:

I’ll be there soon. I love you.

[lanf1an]

SEASONS lando norris x fewtrell sister pt. 6 - australia, march 15 2025

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5

wordcount: 1735

Coming back from the lodge felt like stepping back into the real world. While you settled back in London, splitting your days between work,  catching up with friends and Dylan. Lando’s preseason schedule consumed him completely. Between testing, media obligations, and rigorous training, he barely had time to answer texts. Max was the bridge that kept everyone connected, his group chats filled with memes, updates, and occasional calls to check in.

The first race weekend arrived like a jolt of adrenaline, pulling everyone together again. The paddock was buzzing, cameras flashing, engines roaring, and an unmistakable energy in the air.

You didn’t have to look far to spot the papaya orange of McLaren’s setup. Lando’s teammate for the season, Oscar Piastri, stood just outside, chatting with a group of mechanics. He looked calm, but there was a stiffness in his posture that gave away his nerves.

“Hey, Oscar,” you greeted, stopping by. He turned, offering a polite smile.

“Hey,” he replied. “Excited to be back?”

“Definitely. Though I think you’re the one everyone’s excited for.”

Oscar laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair. “No pressure, right?”

“You’ll do great,” you assured him. “you’ve got Lando to show you the ropes.”

At that, Oscar chuckled, glancing toward the garage. “Yeah, he’s… helpful. In his own way.”

“Translation: he’s been teasing you nonstop?”

“Pretty much,” Oscar admitted, grinning now.

Before you could continue, Lando emerged from the garage, spotting you immediately. His face lit up with a wide grin, and he jogged over.

“Well, well, look who’s here!” he said, pulling you into a quick hug, keeping his arms casually around you as the conversation continued.

“I’m here to keep you out of trouble,” you teased, putting your head back, resting it on his shoulder. “How’s it going?”

“Good. I mean, as good as it gets when you’ve been stuck doing PR interviews all morning,” Lando replied, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t let him fool you,” Oscar cut in. “He loves the attention.”

Lando gasped in offense. “Betrayed by my own teammate. Unreal.”

The paddock was as much about racing as it was about the people who made it feel like a second home since the karting days.

“Finally!” Max called out, spreading his arms, walking over. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to see my twin sister grace us with her presence?”

“Max,” you said dryly, but pulling him in a tight hug. “It’s been what, a month?”

“One and a half, but who’s counting?” he shot back, pulling you into a tighter hug. 

“Feels like we never left, huh?” he smiled nostalgically.

“Speak for yourself,” you replied with a small laugh. “Some of us don’t get paid to stand around looking cool.”

Max smirked. “Someone’s gotta do it. Besides, I had to keep an eye on Lando during preseason. He’s useless without me.”

“Fewtrell,” Lando said, glaring at Max.

“You ready for qualifying?” you interrupted. 

He nodded, his usual confidence tempered by the quiet intensity in his eyes. “Yeah. It feels good to be back. Preseason was… long.” He hinted at his break-up with Magui.

“Tell me about it,” you said with a small laugh, thinking about how busy he’d been. You had barely seen him outside of a few fleeting texts and FaceTimes over the last couple of months. Max had told you not to bring up the break-up too much, but you felt bad not being there for him a lot.

As if reading your thoughts, Lando added, “It’s good to have everyone here, though. Makes it feel normal again.”

Before you could respond, a familiar voice cut through the air. “Ah, there she is!”

You turned to see Christian Horner striding toward you, his usual confident grin firmly in place. Behind him, a few Red Bull team members hovered, chatting among themselves.

“Our favorite Red Bull athlete’s girlfriend,” Christian said warmly, clapping you on the shoulder. “Dylan’s been singing your praises all winter.”

Your smile froze for a second, but you recovered quickly, glancing around to find Lando and Max watching the interaction with identical expressions of barely concealed amusement.

“Well,” you started, “I’m sure Dylan exaggerates.”

Christian chuckled. “I doubt it. I heard you were quite the good luck charm last season. Don’t be a stranger around the Red Bull garage, alright?”

“Don’t worry, Christian,” Lando chimed in before you could reply. “She’s not a stranger.’’ crossing his arms.

Christian turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “What’s with the hostility? Feeling threatened?”

Lando grinned. “Not at all. It’s just worth mentioning—she was a McLaren fan first, you know.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as Christian shook his head in disappointment. “Well, I suppose no one’s perfect. Don’t let Zak Brown hear that, though.”

Lando smirked, stepping closer. “Zak knows where her loyalties lie. Right?”

“Careful, Norris,” you said, arching an eyebrow. “Don’t test me.”

Christian laughed, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth, but his attention was quickly pulled away by someone calling his name from the Red Bull garage. “Alright, I’ll let you lot get back to it. But seriously, swing by later—Red Bull is where it’s at, your boyfriend knows”

As Christian walked away, you turned back to find Max and Lando watching you with matching smirks.

“What?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Favorite Red Bull girlfriend,” Max said, mimicking Christian’s voice. “Hadn’t expected my sister to become that kind of girl”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando said, rolling his eyes. “At least she knows better than to wear a Red Bull cap in the McLaren garage.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you teased, grinning at his exaggerated look of horror.

-

He won the first race. He actually won the first race of the season. He’d been in F1 for six years but since the wins last year it had been different. You all went out, but Max had to head back early, having an early flight tomorrow for an important meeting. “Didn’t expect you were gonna win” he pestered Lando, hiding his disappointment of having to leave. The club was electric, a blur of flashing lights, pounding bass, and a sea of bodies moving in sync. You nursed your drink at the edge of the dance floor, watching Lando with cautious eyes. Max's voice rang in your head: "Keep an eye on him, alright? He’s been... off since the breakup."

At first, you’d expected to be playing crowd control, pulling Lando out of his usual post-race antics. But to your surprise, he wasn’t bouncing from girl to girl or drowning himself in shots. Instead, he stuck mostly to your side, occasionally wandering off to dance or chat, but always returning.

“You’re not going to drink me under the table tonight, are you?” you teased, leaning closer so he could hear you over the music.

Lando grinned, his cheeks flushed from the heat of the club and the alcohol in his system. “You never know.”

Lando was leaning back, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the warmth of the room, his shirt slightly unbuttoned.

“What?” he asked, catching you staring.

You shook your head with a small smile. “Nothing.”

Lando gulped down his drink, his gaze dropping for a moment before he spoke again “So... what about Japan?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a second, you froze. It wasn’t like Lando to address these kinds of things so directly, especially not when he was tipsy, but here he was, his eyes locked on yours.

“What about it?” you asked carefully, buying yourself time. You hadn’t actually told anyone yet.

He gave you a look, his brows drawing together slightly. “You know what I mean. Are you... still thinking of going?”

You exhaled slowly, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass. “Actually,” you said, leaning forward a little, “I’m not going to Japan. Not for a long time, at least.”

His eyes widened slightly, the surprise evident in his expression. “Wait, what? Why?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction. “Because I got a bigger promotion. I’m overseeing the Japan project now, which means I’ll still have to go there occasionally, but not for months at a time like we thought.”

The tension in his shoulders visibly eased, and a slow grin spread across his face. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” you said, taking a sip of your drink.

His grin widened. “That’s amazing. I mean, for you. Congrats.”

“Thanks,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “You sound a little too excited, though. Think you can contain yourself?”

Lando leaned forward, his grin softening into something more genuine. “Not really, no.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

He leaned back again, his smile lingering. “I’m just glad you’re not leaving. That’s all.”

Another song started, and before you knew it, he grabbed your hand and pulled you onto the dance floor. You laughed, shaking your head, but didn’t resist. His energy was infectious, and it wasn’t long before you found yourself matching his rhythm, letting the music and the drinks blur the edges of the night.

As the hours wore on, Lando got bolder. His hands rested on your waist a little longer, his fingers brushing your bare skin. He leaned in to shout something in your ear, his breath warm against your neck. Normally, you’d push him away, crack a joke, or remind him to focus on something else. But tonight, you let it happen, trying to ignore the shivers his touches sent up your spine and down to somewhere else.

His hands slid to your hips, pulling you closer as the music slowed. You felt his forehead rest against yours, and then his lips brushed yours—soft at first, tentative, testing.

“Lando—” you started, pulling back.

“C’mon,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “Just this once.”

“C’mon, you,” you shot back, trying to laugh it off, but it came out shakier than you intended. “I’m not going to be your rebound kiss. You’re finally free to actually kiss girls at the club.”

His hands tightened slightly, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. “I don’t want to kiss girls at the club,” he said, his voice steady now, the playful edge gone.

For a moment, you were frozen, unsure of how to respond. The weight of his words hung between you, cutting through the haze of alcohol and music.

“Lando…” you started, but he shook his head, stepping back and running a hand through his hair.

“Forget it,” he muttered, “I’m just drunk.”

You didn’t believe him for a second.

-

WN: Hope you guys still like it! Let me know! Took a bit longer this time, but will try to upload again tomorrow!

tl: @ash88-yep @lewishamiltonismybf @harrysdimple05@lex2205 @il0vereadingstuff @martygraciesversion381 @joannaln4 @obxstiles@chaoswithus @motorsportloverf1 @therovanperaastonmartini @acesofspadess

[speed-world]

Hello, im a fan of the self aware scenario you did with the coward y/n cookie, and I was wondering what their reactions would be of meeting the beast cookies

To be honest, you had no interest in going to Beast-Yeast, at all. After all, why would you? Whatever conflict the Ancients and other cookies had with each other didn’t concern you, not to mention that just the name - “Beast-Yeast” - already freaked you out.

If it weren’t for Pure Vanilla Cookie promising that your safety, due to the agreement between the Ancients and Dark Enchantress Cookie, you would’ve stayed comfortably in the Cookie Kingdom far away from the other continent.

You wish you never listened to Pure Vanilla now, because this beast - Shadow Milk Cookie - immediately wanted to make you run far, far away.

The jester scared you with his sinister and maniacal behavior. If you had a fear of clowns before entering the cookie world, then you’d pass out the more his actions continued.

After seeing the mental turmoil Pure Vanilla was experiencing, the loss of Elder Faerie Cookie, Shadow Milk’s terrifying powers and his “plays” that were mockeries of all the adversaries of the Beasts—the color blue might be your most hated now.

Yeah, you’d be completely fine and dandy if you never saw a hint of Shadow Milk’s Cookie ever again

However, he couldn’t stand to think of this meeting being your last…

How were you convinced to go back to Beast-Yeast a second time?? Suppose you can be grateful for that promise with the Ancients and Dark Enchantress Cookie.

You actually really liked the Ivory Pagoda. The atmosphere was so serene and otherworldly, and warmly inviting…or dangerously alluring.

The company of Dark Cacao Cookie, Caramel Arrow Cookie, Crunchy Chip Cookie, and the Cacao warriors made this trip a whole lot more comfortable and relaxing. However, their presence couldn’t make things better when you finally came face to face with the other Beast - Mystic Flour Cookie.

You thought the slow creepiness of Cloud Haetae Cookie would be the worst of your problems, but at least the story they told was directed to the Ancient instead of you.

The second you saw that spider pop out of that cocoon, your soul ascended to the crossroads. Your body went so pale that Dark Cacao thought you succumbed to the pale ailment.

You really couldn’t articulate how much Mystic Flour scared you. Shadow Milk was insane, but this?! She’s so uncaring, so unrelenting in her belief of apathy, is it too late to stay with Peach Blossom Cookie for the rest of this journey?

Let’s not even get started on that face. You hated any related horror stuff in the real world, and now you’re seeing that in front of your face!!

Yeah no, forget this. Awesome job on Dark Cacao awakening, time to get on the first airship outta this place.

As much as you wanted to be as far away from Mystic Flour Cookie as possible, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Stared at by a force that you couldn’t look back at, no matter how hard you tried….

Hell. To the freaking. NO

Naaaaaah Golden Cheese Cookie, she’s crazy if she thinks you’re going to accompany her to Beast-Yeast. Promise be damned, they clearly didn’t account for the mental pain that you’ve suffered through.

Smoked Cheese Cookie seemed dead serious on agreeing with you, but Golden Cheese wouldn’t take no for an answer. You decided to stick close to Smoked Cheese, because the Beast is only focused on Golden Cheese after all, right?

Had it not been for the presence of Golden Cheese and Smoked Cheese, you wouldn’t have even thought of coming to this place. It’s hotter than a truck engine in the summer, a lot of these Spice cookies are pretty hostile, and—Oh God the sandstorms are the crumbs of dead cookies?!?????!

And then, you met him-Burning Spice Cookie. He’s already scary to look at, so you just hid your face whenever you saw or heard him.

His power is also way too scary-he doesn’t care about any collateral damage caused, heck he probably loves if there’s more of it! Smoked Cheese spent his time making sure that not even a crumb of you were harmed during the fight of Golden Cheese and Burning Spice.

You weren’t sure what freaked you out more: Nutmeg Tiger Cookie’s unwavering devotion to such a being like Burning Spice, or the fact that Burning Spice Cookie does all that he does…for entertainment.

All the death, destruction, suffering he causes, everything, all for a cheap laugh?! Why-why again did you ever come here?!?

To make matters worse? Smoked Cheese and Golden Cheese were locked away in a cage. But you? No, Burning Spice didn’t want you in confinement.

He found it much more amusing to have you by his side, attached to his hip and sitting on his lap.

Your soul departs each time he speaks, your breath is taken away when he breaks something, because you’re scared that it might be you he breaks next. Seeing him be so casual and collected after crushing Cilantro Cobra Cookie in front of your face was what set you over the edge.

You were panicking, screaming, tossing around. You wanted to leave now, no ifs, ands, or buts. You can’t take this anymore and-…

He-he’s staring at you….he’s in the middle of his second round fight with Golden Cheese Cookie, and he’s staring. Right. At. You.

You were eternally grateful for Smoked Cheese Cookie being so understanding, and being so quick in trying to get you out of this God forsaken continent.

But even as you were getting away, you heard his laugh. You know Golden Cheese struck him down, but you heard his faint sinister laugh; virtually paralyzing you in place.

Please, for your sake, can you never come back to Beast-Yeast ever again?!?

…

…

Where did this ticket come from?

[player042]

IN THE NIGHT | kang dae-ho

pairing: kang dae-ho (player 388) x reader

summary: you find yourself drawn to dae-ho, and it’s becoming harder and harder to hide it, even from yourself; especially during the quiet nights when it’s just the two of you keeping guard.

warning: mutual doting, lovesick but stubborn reader, mention of squid game themes such a death and despair, other than that it’s just fluff, this is my first post so feel free to give me feedback if you’d like to read more, and now please enjoy 🥹💖

word count: 1.7k

Dae-ho had a laugh that made your chest ache. Big, bright, and unrestrained, it echoed through the cold dormitory like sunlight breaking through cracks in a prison wall. It was absurd, really, how easily it pulled at the corners of your lips, how it made your heart feel too big for your ribcage.

He was an exception; you didn't know why, but he was. He was the opposite of death. Of fear. Of blood and betrayal. Quite the opposite of everything that reminded you of this hellish place. He didn't belong here. And you were confident, that even a blind person would see that for he was warmth and light, he radiated it, throughout each day you survived. You didn't know how he managed it, how he could smile, laugh, and joke even in the face of the horrors around you. It wasn't fake; you'd learned to recognize false optimism in this place, no, Dae-ho's joy was real, a stubborn defiance against the darkness threatening to swallow you all whole.

You sat across the room, waiting for the guards to let you out to the bathrooms once the other group returned. Your back rested against the wall as you watched him animatedly recount some ridiculous story from his military days to Jung-bae, with other players listening in. Mentally, you were already preparing for the night ahead, after all, you and Dae-ho were tasked with keeping watch together, a plan Gi-hun had devised in case any of the other players decided to attack. The group had agreed to take turns, so it was nothing out of the ordinary.

And yet, it was.

You and Dae-ho, all alone while the world slept? Why did the thought of that suddenly make you nervous?

Dae-ho's hands moved in exaggerated gestures, his grin wide enough to rival the cheshire cat's. Even in this pit of despair, his energy was magnetic, drawing people in like moths to a flame. And you weren't immune to it, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise.

His eyes caught yours mid-laugh, and for a split second, the world seemed to freeze. His smile softened, his gaze lingering on you just a little longer than it should have. Your stomach flipped, a sudden rush of butterflies that made you look away, feigning disinterest even as your pulse quickened.

You weren't used to this feeling, this fluttering in your chest, this heat that rose to your cheeks every time he said your name or brushed against you in passing. It was ridiculous. You weren't the kind of person who got swept up in someone else's orbit. You were guarded, careful, a fortress built from years of self-preservation. But Dae-ho... he was different. He didn't just knock on the gates, he scaled the walls with that infuriating smirk of his.

It wasn't just his smile or his laugh that drew you in. It was the way he saw people, not just as competitors or threats, but as humans. The way he helped were he could, even though it put himself at risk. The way he noticed when someone was on the verge of breaking and managed to say just the right thing to pull them back from the edge. The way he noticed you.

You hated how easily he could read you. You prided yourself on being unreadable, untouchable, but with Dae-ho, it was like he saw straight through every mask you wore. He never called you out on it, never pressed, but the way his gaze softened when you spoke or the way he offered you his rations without a word told you everything you needed to know.

It terrified you.

And yet, here you were, stealing glances like a lovesick teenager, your mind betraying you with thoughts of how his golden skin glowed under the dim lights, how his broad shoulders looked like they could carry the weight of the world, how his laugh felt like a secret you wanted to hoard, to keep for yourself.

He was the sunshine to your shadows, the golden retriever to your black cat. His warmth threatened to melt the ice you'd spent years cultivating around your heart, and you weren't sure if you wanted to stop him. But you'd never say any of this out loud. You barely allowed yourself to even think all of this. No, you weren't foolish enough to let yourself hope for something in a place like this. 

Because no matter how sweet the what if's could be, your reality was cruel, always has been. So instead, you decided to watch him from afar, heart aching with the weight of unspoken words, as the seconds ticked closer to the night which would give way to the next day and the next game that might tear you apart.

Thirty minutes later, the dormitory was dim and quieter than usual, the faint hum of the fluorescent X and O on the ground and the transparent piggy bank full of blood-money above, the only sounds aside from the occasional snoring and shuffling of restless players. Most had fallen into an uneasy sleep, and here you were, being tasked with keeping watch.

You and Dae-ho were sitting across from each other near your group, shielded by spare mattresses. You sat on the cold metal floor, your back resting against a stack of unused bunk beds. Dae-ho was perched across from you, one leg bent, the other stretched out in front of him. His head was tilted back slightly, his eyes scanning the room, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips as though you weren't both surrounded by people who'd kill you without a second thought. You didn't know how he managed it, how he could find light in a place like this.

"You're staring," he said suddenly, his voice low but playful.

Your cheeks burned, and you looked away quickly, your arms crossing defensively over your chest. "I'm not."

He chuckled softly, the sound like a warm breeze cutting through the icy tension of the room. "Sure, you're not."

"Focus, Dae-ho," you muttered, trying to mask your embarrassment. "You're supposed to be watching for threats, not making jokes."

"I can multitask," he replied, his grin widening. "Besides, I'd argue you're more distracting than anyone sneaking around here."

You shot him a glare, but your heart fluttered at his words. "You're impossible."

"I've been called worse," he said, leaning back. His dark eyes softened as they met yours. "But you... you're something else."

You tried to ignore the way your pulse quickened, brushing his words off with a scoff. "Flattery isn't going to keep us alive, you know."

"No, but it's better than sitting in silence," he said. Then, after a pause, his voice turned quieter, more serious. "You don't talk much. Why is that?"

Your gaze flickered to him, surprised by the sudden change in his tone. "What's the point?" you asked after a moment. "It's not like anyone here is worth trusting."

He tilted his head, studying you. "Do you trust me?"

You hesitated, the weight of his question pressing down on you. The truth was, you didn't know. You wanted to, desperately, but trust was dangerous in a place like this.

"I don't know," you admitted finally. "Do you trust me?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. "I think I do," he said softly. "You've got this... thing about you. Like you're always a couple steps ahead of everyone else."

You raised an eyebrow. "That's a nice way of saying I'm paranoid."

"Smart," he corrected, his grin returning. "And I like smart."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't hide the small smile tugging at your lips. "You're ridiculous."

"And you're stubborn," he shot back, his tone light but affectionate. "But this just adds to the list of all the things I like about you. We make a good team, you know."

The words hung in the air, heavier than they should have been. You glanced away, your cheeks warming despite the chill of the room. "You shouldn't say things like that," you muttered, your voice quieter now.

"Why not?" he asked, his tone teasing but curious. "Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"No," you shock your head quickly, though the butterflies in your stomach betrayed you. "It's just... we don't know how this is going to end. It's better not to-" You stopped yourself, unsure of how to finish.

"Not to what?" he pressed, his voice softer now. "Care?"

You looked at him then, meeting his gaze. His dark eyes were steady, searching, but not pushing. It was so unlike the Dae-ho you were used to, the loud, laughing sunshine of the group. This version of him, quiet and sincere, was harder to guard against.

"It's dangerous," you finally said, barely above a whisper.

His lips quirked into a small smile, but there was no teasing this time. "Everything here is dangerous. Doesn't mean it's not worth it."

For a moment, you didn't know what to say. The silence stretched between you, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It felt... warm, somehow. Safe.

"Why do you do that?" you asked quietly, breaking the silence.

"Do what?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Act like everything's fine," you said, gesturing vaguely to the room around you. "Like we're not all fighting for our lives."

His smile faltered, just for a second. "Because someone has to," he admitted. "If we all give in to the fear, what's left? I can't control what happens tomorrow, but I can try to make today a little less awful. Even if it's just for a moment."

Your chest tightened at his words. He said it so casually, like it wasn't the most selfless thing you'd ever heard.

"You should get some rest," you said, focusing on the shadows dancing across the floor, your voice quieter now, "I'll take it from here."

"And leave you all alone? Not a chance," he decided, stretching his arms behind his head. "Besides, I'm enjoying the company."

You didn't reply, but your heart betrayed you, beating a little faster at his words. As the night stretched on, you sat together in the dim light. And for the first time in days, you felt a faint sense of calm, not because you believed things would be okay, but because, for now, you weren't alone. Neither of you said it aloud, the weight of unspoken feelings heavy between you, but for now, it was enough. 

[3amfanfiction]

Our Girlfriend pt 2

The morning after.

You can thank @disasterofastory for this piece about the morning after you had four men in your bed. Considering you'd never spoken to two of them, how is this going to go? 1.5k little ficlet of a scene. A little bit of fluffy sweetness to even out the pure smut of the first chapter.

Part one

The bed was almost empty by the time you woke up, only you and Johnny remaining. You were curled up to his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heart as your eyes peeled open, sticky with sleep.

You didn't move at first, just laid there content to breathe in the still morning air where nothing needed to be done. There were no deadlines to meet, no chores to complete . . . it was just you, existing.

You watched as the thick chest under your cheek raised up as he drew in the breath to speak. Your quiet morning was about to be disturbed. You held onto the few split seconds you had remaining, locking onto this peace to get you through your day.

"You awake, love?"

Because real life always came knocking.

You hummed an assent, not interested in trying to force your tongue into shapes that would make words. You felt wonderfully wrung out, with only the things occurring right this moment needing thought. There wasn't any stress about yesterday or any worry about tomorrow.

Johnny stroked along your back gently with calloused fingers, a slight tickling scratch to go along with the warm caress. It roused you enough to turn and press a kiss to the warm skin you were laying on, a non-verbal 'good morning' in place of any proper greeting.

Johnny pressed a return kiss to the crown of your head, never ceasing the running of his palm over your back. You really did love him. You knew it was fast, that people say there was no way it would last because of how quickly you two fell together but you ignored them. Johnny was something special and you were thankful he was in your life.

The sun had shifted slightly when he spoke again. "How do you feel this morning?"

As a matter of fact . . .

"Johnny." Firm. You know he'll try and wiggle his way out of an answer if he catches any hint of weakness. "What was that last night?"

He didn't respond at first. After a moment you tilted your head up to look at him. He was staring at the ceiling, a serene look on his face with a hint of a smile on his lips.

"It was nice, wasn't it? I can't believe I decided to take a nap right in the middle of it though. Don't worry, love, I'll be making it up to you." He was coming to life with every word spoken. His face more animated, fingers starting to twitch and legs rubbing together. You knew you only had a few more minutes in bed before he would be up and gone—ready to start another day.

"That wasn't what I meant and you know it. Why did they all talk like we were dating? What have you been telling them?"

"Nothing that wasn't true, I promise." He turned to look beseechingly into your eyes, ensuring you saw the truth in what he was saying. "I told them about you, of course. How amazing you were—always looking out for me, being so understanding, not taking any of my shite." He grinned at the last one, ever amused by your backbone, "and they fell in love with you, just like I did. And then you went and showed me that you loved them back and I couldn't let it go. I had to bring the four of you together."

Immediately you clocked what he meant. "Johnny MacTavish, those muffins weren't—they didn't mean—" How could you even begin to explain away this misunderstanding? Especially after what happened last night? You didn't get any further before the bedroom door opened.

"Good morning, sleeping beauties," Kyle beamed as he walked in holding two coffee cups. "You two finally ready to join the rest of us?"

Oh shit. The rest of them.

How are you going to face them? You'd never even properly met two of them and you let them into your bed. You'd let the man standing in the doorway come in your mouth last night. You've never even spoken to him.

All of a sudden you found yourself tongue-tied, unable to do anything more than mumble a shy thank you as you were handed your cup of coffee. Starting to sit up you realized you were still completely naked under the blanket and looked around self-consciously for a shirt to pull on.

Kyle saw slight panic in your eyes and grabbed a t-shirt off the floor. It was the one Simon had worn last night. You thought about putting up a fuss, asking for one of your own but in the end you graciously accepted, more worried about being covered in the bold light of day than worrying about who's shirt you wore.

Comfortably covered once more you turned to face the two men, looking at you with differing shades of the same smile. You felt around the corners of your mouth and eyes to make sure there weren't any lingering crusties before you took a sip of your coffee. Your eyes widened and darted up to Kyle's face.

"Johnny hasn't stopped talking about you since he you met. Any one of us could make your drink with our eyes closed by now," he teased gently, good-natured mirth shining through his warm eyes. "I hope you don't mind, we took liberties with your kitchen. Cap and Simon are finishing breakfast right now. Well," he allowed with a small shrug, "The captain is, Simon isn't allowed near the stove. Not unless you want a bit of char on your food."

"You didn't have to do all that, here let me . . . " You worked to pull yourself from the bed without spilling your coffee or flashing anyone. "Let me get dressed and I'll be down. They're guests, they shouldn't be cooking." Of all the things. You didn't truly mind the thought of them in your kitchen but it felt like you should protest on principle. When you stood up your hips gave a worrying twinge and you braced yourself against the mattress. Yeah, maybe you should just leave them be after all.

It was embarrassing how quickly Johnny and Kyle were at your side, clearly no worse for wear after the night you all had. You'd like to see them jump up like that after having their hips spread around another's torso. Not so easy then, huh?

Waving them off exasperatedly you gingerly left the room and headed for the kitchen. You walked in just in time to see John swatting at Simon, shooing him away from the stove where he had picked up a spatula and was attempting to stir the eggs. You must have made some sort of noise because both men turned to look at you, freezing as they took you in. Standing in the kitchen with bare legs and Simon's black t-shirt, Kyle and Johnny clustered behind you, you must have made quite the sight. John was the first to come to his senses, pushing the utensil back into Simon's hand distractedly and walking over to you.

"Good morning, sweetheart." He looked you up and down, "we weren't too rough with you last night, I hope?" he questioned with a raised brow, his soft-looking mustache bristling with the movement of his mouth. It twitched while he waited for your answer—worried but fighting not to show it.

"I'm good," you reassured, "Better than, even." You smiled sweetly up at him, enjoying watching the tension leave his face, the little furrow between his brow disappearing. It almost startled you, how fond you were of these men. It was strange.

You didn't know the exact shade of blue John's eyes were but you knew he needed reading glasses if it was late at night and he was still working on paperwork. You'd never seen the way the hair curled at the nape of his neck but you knew he liked deep-tissue massages after tough missions.

So strange. You knew them intimately and as strangers all at once, a unique dichotomy to be in. You wondered if they felt the same way. They knew how you took your coffee and what you would normally make for yourself for breakfast. Was it so hard to believe they were in the same boat as you? That they knew you as deeply as you knew them?

You found it was easy to fall into their orbit. All of them drifting around the others in ever-changing patterns. Present but not suffocating.

They liked to keep a hand on you though, for all that they gave each other room to breathe. They would take turns standing beside you after you took a seat—a hand placed low on your back as they came in for a kiss or moving over to hold your hand while they spoke about anything under the sun.

You laughed when the eggs Simon had been tasked to look over had to be tossed out after smoke started wafting from the pan. The happy peals doing more to settle the men than you knew, because hadn't you realized? They were already falling for you too.

Next

[alotofpockets]

Clingy | Vivianne Miedema x Man City!Reader

5k celebration prompt: "Do you really think she likes that you're so clingy?"

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.3k

-----

You had been at City for a few years now, and your teammates knew you well. They knew you loved the team, and hanging out together, but they also knew that you weren’t as affectionate as most of them were. 

Never did your teammates think anything of you not being affectionate with them. It wasn’t something everyone enjoyed, and they knew that. They were just happy to have you around.

However when Viv joined the team, all of a sudden they saw a shift in your affection. 

The first time they noticed something was when you were on the bus, sitting next to Viv. Her head leaning on your shoulder, after she had fallen asleep. Most of your teammates had seen the moment, but figured Viv had just nodded off, and you didn’t want to wake her.

But it wasn’t just that moment. It didn’t matter in what environment you were, Viv always found a way to be near you.

When walking towards the pitch for training, Viv would loop her arm through yours. You never shrugged her off, and your teammates noticed there how naturally you let it happen.

During drills at training, she would nudge your shoulder ever so often while waiting for the next drill. Sometimes it was to point something out, other times it was to joke around.

Even during games. When you and Viv would both sit on the bench, she made sure to sit next to you. When someone would try to squeeze in, she would subtly shift so she could keep her spot next to you.

When you were out with some of the girls, they noticed that Viv would place her hand on your arm or leg casually, like it was the most normal thing ever. It might be a normal thing for most people, but for you it wasn’t.

The girls had never seen you let anyone get so close to you, and they kept being amazed.  They couldn’t wrap their head around the fact that you let Viv be so clingy, while usually you didn’t even like when people touched you in general. Were you just letting it happen because you didn’t want to make Viv feel bad? Or were you enjoying it as much as she was?

It was the first movie night since Viv joined, that someone decided to voice their thoughts. The movie started and to no one's surprise, Viv sat down next to you. It didn’t take long for her to get comfortable and cuddle into your side, her legs resting on yours. 

About halfway through the movie, you got a call. “Sorry, I have to take this.” You whispered into Viv’s ear. Gently pulling your body away from underneath hers. Some of your teammates shot you questioning looks. “It’s okay, just keep playing the movie. I’ll be right back.”

You moved into the hallway of Jill’s apartment, closing the door behind you to block the noise that was coming from the living room before you picked up the phone.

Viv looked after you, sad to have lost the comfort that you were giving her. Alanna noticed the longing looks she was sending to the door. “Viv, do you really think she likes that you're so clingy?" The question came out rougher than intended, but Alanna went with it anyway.

Her head turned to Alanna and the rest of the girls. “Yeah, why wouldn’t she?” Viv asked with her brow slightly furrowed. Surely if you didn’t like her doing so, you would have told her by now.

The movie was paused and all attention was on your conversation now. “Well, it’s just that I’ve never seen her be touchy with anyone. In fact I’ve seen her push people off or tell them off when they’re touching her for too long.” 

Some of the girls chuckled, and Lauren added, “It’s commonly known that she doesn’t like it when people touch her.” A statement that came with a few nods from the rest of the girls.

Before you could say anything, Jill jumped in. “Yeah, well you guys don’t know y/n outside of City. I grew up with those two, they’ve always been like this.” 

Kerstin build up Jill’s point more. “Literally. When I joined them at the national team, I for real thought they were dating.”

Viv’s cheeks turn red at Kerstin’s words, peaking the interest of the team even further than the conversation about if you liked the clinginess or not.

You returned to the living room and all eyes were on you. It felt a little uneasy, so you quickly sat down next to Viv again. But instead of her leaning into your side like she usually did, she kept sitting up straight. It looked like she was actively making sure that she wasn’t touching you.

The whole situation felt awkward. The movie paused, and all eyes on you. Well, all eyes except Viv’s, who seemed to be ignoring you at all costs. “Can someone please tell me what’s going on?”

Jill exchanged a quick look with Alanne before speaking up, deciding it was best if she took the lead in answering. “We were just talking about how close you and Viv are. Nothing bad!” 

Your eyes narrowed at the addition of the ‘nothing bad’. No one ever added that when that was the case. 

"Right," Lauren added, trying to lighten the mood but failing miserably. "We were just saying it’s surprising—since you’re not usually, you know, touchy with anyone."

You look between them, a frown forming on your face. “Okay, and?” You didn’t like when people analysed you in the first place, but why did they have to bring Viv into it?

“Well,” Alanna spoke up after the rest of the team seemed to hesitate. “we were wondering if you’re actually okay with it. You don’t really let people touch you ever. But Jill said you two have been this way for ages, and that’s kind of where the conversation ended.”

Viv’s posture and refusal to meet your eye, suddenly made sense. They had said something to make her doubt herself, or even worse make her doubt you and your actions. 

“Seriously?” You snap at them, feeling the anger boil inside your chest. “Don’t you have something better to do than analyse who I let into my personal space?”

The team looked taken back, not expecting your anger. You realised it had come out sharper than intended, so after taking a deep breath, you softened your tone. “Look, I know I’m not the most affectionate person, but it’s Viv. I don’t mind Viv being clingy. And if you think for a second that I would let anyone do anything that I didn’t want, you don’t know me at all.”

The team knew very well that you knew you would stand your ground and not let anyone walk over you, so they should’ve realised that you would’ve also not let Viv do something you didn’t like. 

Finally Viv looked up at you, her fingers still fidgeting with the sleeves of her hoodie. “You really don’t mind?”

You shake your head and reach for her hand. “No, not at all. I like it even.” With a gentle tug at her hand, you pull her back into your side. 

The rest of the girls kept watching you, as you pulled Viv closer and wrapped your arm around her. “Can we please move on and continue watching this movie?” 

Viv lightly chuckled at the girls mumbling their sorry’s as they turned back to the TV. You squeeze her a little tighter. “Don’t let them get to your head. If you ever question something, please just come to me.” She nodded her head, and got comfortable again. 

-----

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also supporting me by leaving a tip 💗

[writingwisterias]

Okay so hear me out ( hello first, where are my manners )

but rly hear me out : Leon and the reader, the reader is pregnant, and the baby is born on September 30th. Like I can’t be the only one who thought about it ? Anyway, please don’t die I love your stories.

stay hydrated folks

Hello!

I actually love this, I could feel the angst and fluff. I will try not to die 🫡 I hope you enjoy and have a good day! And everyone that sees this is your reminder to drink water or anything please (Not proof Read I'm sorry it posted before I got the chance!)

I'm so sorry for how late this is please forgive me! I wanted to flesh it out a bit

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Pregnancy, Child birth (Not graphic), PTSD, Establsihed Relationship

ID!Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Reader

The red circle on the calendar was just a constant reminder to him. Not only because of the impending arrival of his child. But also of that one fateful night -- the day that changed his life. He would spend the entire year trying to forget about it and think of anything other than this. It was the devil's work he swore in that doctor's office when the date was announced. He watched you freeze, a fake smile now replacing the real one you had when you entered the office. Leon hated that one date could still have so much effect on the two of you. 

You grasped his hand during the rest of the appointment, and you watched as he sunk into himself, his eyes turning hazy as he dissociated. Your fingers squeezing his desperately trying to get him to come back. You would never blame him, the horrors he had been through were enough to break a thousand men and he was still here. You had asked him years ago to explain everything to allow the secret he had kept so long to be heard by someone he trusted to help him heal. Since then the pregnancy had turned into a nine-month countdown to the date. The small kicks he felt every night fought desperately against the feeling, the reminder. The life you were carrying to involve him in a never-ending circle of happiness was already trying to heal their dad. Leon was too good of a man to let this affect the relationship with the child, besides due dates can be wrong all the time. Sometimes the baby will come later, he might be lucky.

You watched him become nervous as the countdown began as you were in the final weeks of the pregnancy. It became a routine for Leon to stare at the red circle every morning as he made breakfast and coffee. Only getting worse since the date was only a few days away at this point. The nursery was completely decorated with things you had both collected yourselves and had been given in the baby shower. All of the baby grows were washed and put away, a large stockpile of diapers in the changing table ready to be used up. You were both just waiting on the baby. 

“Good morning” You spoke softly as you entered the room. Your voice is now the only thing taking his attention away from the calendar. Leon smiled at you, his oversized shirt draped over your body. “Morning” He mumbled, hand instantly smoothing the fabric smiling at the little kicks that greeted him. It wasn’t unusual for him to be awake early, his military timer being one of the things that never left him. Despite your attempts to train it out of him in favour for a few more hours in bed. “What’s for breakfast today? It smells good” You hummed sweetly looking over at the hob. 

You tried to hide it, you really did but Leon didn’t miss the twinge of pain in your face. The small adjustment you gave yourself as pain washed over you. “Are you alright?” He asked ignoring your previous question entirely. His touch was gentle a simple reminder of his support. You nodded muttering a small ‘yes’ despite your features clenched together displaying otherwise. His hand moved gently on your lower back, the movements distracting you from the pain. You knew what the date was but you also knew what the pain meant. You just didn’t have the heart to tell him yet. After spending the whole night hoping that maybe it was just a Braxton hix and they would fade away eventually. However, the world wasn’t that kind. “Love, please don’t lie to me. Not when you are this close” 

“The date-”

“I know the date…I don’t care not right now. Tell me what’s happening” 

You turned to him, finally able to stand up straighter now the pain had subsided. Leon knew what you were getting at, he’d read all the books and leaflets the doctor recommended. All to be able to recognise the signs. Leon ensured that he was as prepared as he could be but now it was happening he froze. Panic rose in his system as you had yet another contraction in front of him. The timings were too close together, you had waited for hours as he slept. Hoping it won’t fall on this date. For his sake. 

“Do we need to leave?” He asked, his voice catching in his throat. You nodded a soft chuckle leaving your lips as you held onto him, fingers digging in his arm as you let the pain subside. To his credit he worked quickly, gathering the bag and items you had prepared and putting them into the car. He was careful as he led you towards the car. One eye on the road and the other on you, pride swelling in his chest at how well you were handling yourself. He thought he would be more lost today, that the date would distract him from being present with you. It did occasionally, every time someone would remind you both of the fact the baby was arriving on your due date he would go silent. Get lost in his mind again. Only to be brought back by a softer comment from you or your touch. The same way you would normally bring him back after spending years with him.  

When getting himself coffee or ice chips for you; he would make sure to avoid the ER, the screams triggering his flashbacks. You were proud of him, he never let it show. Despite the circumstances, you knew he would be the best partner you could get in this situation. 

You tried to hold back from making any sound but the more you needed to push the louder you got. He didn’t blame you, he could see that you were trying for his sake. The hospital was already proving to be challenging with all of the other mothers throughout the day going through the same process just a few rooms down. Leon could feel your attempts to be silent in the way you gripped his hand. You saw Leon wince at every moan and flinch at every scream you made. It didn’t help the baby was progressing slowly meaning the process was dragged out. It seemed like the entire day was attempting to make this harder for him. 

Yet despite everything he still helped you through it, complimenting your progress and how well you were doing. “You can do it, You are doing so good” He whispered in your hair, placing kisses not caring for the sweat that coated your skin. His kisses were cold and welcomed against your sweaty skin. You shook your head exhaustion lingering in the corner ready to take over. The final moments were the hardest for him. Leon tried so hard not to let it affect him but the room was suddenly too loud as it now filled with the baby’s cries, the nurses praising you as you also cried. The wails reminded him of all the distant ones he heard as he ran around the police station, of all the people he couldn’t save as he was trapped inside. Your deeper groans of pain sounded similar to Marvin’s as he spoke helping Leon out of the station. 

You felt his presence, but he wasn’t there, his eyes watching over you with that hazed look again. You wouldn’t hold it against him; it was enough that he was here physically. You knew he hated the hospital, the sounds of everyone injured and in pain. You’ve spent countless times trying to force him to get his sickness checked out by doctors instead of googling the symptoms. However, you knew that once the noise reduced, he would come back, and he would enjoy the moment. 

Guilt washed over him as he held the baby the small bundle watching him with curious eyes. You were asleep, having some well-deserved rest. The machines beeped around him, the noise of the hospital fading as he looked back into those blue eyes. They were so small in his arms, their head cradled perfectly in the palm of his hand. This is what he endured and fought for that night, the chance to have a life at the end of it. To have happiness and love surround him in even the smallest ways. Leon didn’t know he was going to be tracked down and blacked mailed by the government for just surviving the events of Raccoon City. Neither did he know that he was going to have to sign his life away putting what he assumed as pure luck into training. He had just watched you champion this for 9 months, endure days of morning sickness, all of the growing pains without a complaint. Looking forward to the future when you can finally hold the baby. He supposed in his own long-winded way he did the same. 

All the nightmares suddenly didn’t matter anymore, not when a positive thing overtook them. Soon to be interrupted by softer cries in the night. The small bundle he held in his arms wasn’t just a new birthday to celebrate for them but for him as well. For the new Leon that wouldn’t let that one night dictate the rest of his life, haunt him forever. It was his chance at a rebirth, at a new beginning. Not only as a husband and father but just as himself. 

[suh-lee]

' explore ' - frontman

𐔌♯ pairing — dom top hwang inho/youngil/player 001 x sub bottom amab!reader

𐔌♯ warnings — smut mdni, CONSENTUAL, inho is mxm virgin, previous and current mentions of manipulation, age gap implied, masculine pronouns and titles for reader, this is not alpha omega but reader is lowk in heat, safe word and kinks are discussed mid-story, inho is referred to as youngil since that is what reader knows him as at this point in the story

𐔌♯ word count — 2,016

𐔌♯ authors note — i need him so bad omg. NOT PROOFREAD !! pls send me squid game recs in my ask box 🫤🫤😖😖

"ya, yn." you heard someone call from behind you, causing you to turn around. you were met with young-il, one of the people whom you had gotten close with during your time locked in this facility.

"hyung!" you exclaimed happily as you saw him alive after the excruciating game of mingle each player had just participated in. he walked in with a serious expression on his face.. you stared at him, trying to get a glimpse into what he was thinking.

now that you think about it, the round where he had to separate from your group, he walked out of a room alone.. that wouldn't have been allowed..? and how did he guess that the final round would be two players per room, no matter if it was slightly logical.

you pushed aside these doubtful feelings toward your hyung and just decided to talk to him after lights out once he watches over our group of players.

"hyung.." you said in a whispered tone as you crawled out from your bunk bed and sat next to him on the stairs.

"yn-ah.. why are you awake? you need rest for the games tomorrow, and your bones are still developing to their full potential. sleep will help with that." young-il said to you quietly, looking at you with a concerned look but having no real emotion behind his eyes, which you took note of.

you darted your eyes away from him for a moment, trying to find how to phrase your words. "could i talk to you..? in private.." you said, tilting your head toward the door that could lead to the bathroom.

young-il quietly nodded and peaked around the large room, filled with countless bunk-beds. he stood up after a moment, walking to the door thay lead to the hallway and knocked on the door.

a guard peaked his head through the window, about to object, but he had seen who was at the door. the guard frantically nodded and opened the door quickly, allowing you and young-il to walk to the bathroom alone.

he held the door open for you, allowing you to walk through and closing it after he entered behind you. he turned a lock on the door and turned toward you, "what did you want?"

"can i ask you a few things?" you spoke softly, receiving a small nod from young-il.

"one.. why do the guards practically ignore you when you do something wrong...? and why didn't i see you in the first game.. or the short time before that..?" you asked, looking at him directly in the eye, attempting to confront him.

he let out a soft smirk at your questions, eyeing you up and down, "you ask too many questions.." he mumbled as he took a step closer toward you, "why all of a sudden are you so cautious??"

"i was there during the first game.. i just tried to blend in the background, using the other players to hide my body.." he said in a confident tone, slowly replanting the seed of trust back into you. "and.. i wouldn't say the guards ignore me.. i just haven't done really anything that they would have to kill, or acknowledge, me for. that's why they turn a blind eye toward me.. i imagine if i did do anything wrong, i would have the same fate as the others.. but, we don't want to test that theory out.. now do we?"

you looked at him as he spoke, he truly had your undivided attention. as he started to explain himself, you were able to understand his reasoning.. but oh my god, something about his confidence mixed with the stereotypically attractive face he had. it drove you insane.

"y..yeah.. that makes sense... sorry if it seemed as if i was doubting you. it's just- you can never be sure here... anybody could be a person in power and we wouldn't know."

"i understand, yn." he said, his usual warm smile on his face, "do you still have your doubts against me?"

"they've been... decreased.. i have no reason to fully trust you, but i also have no reason to believe your lying at the moment. i do hope you're being truthful, though."

"..that's a very smart mindset you have..." he said with a nod, before continuing "especially for an environment like this one. we never know a person's true motives, just as they don't know ours."

you nodded at him, but you weren't really listening. glancing at him up and down, your eyes clearly betrayed you. he started to go on about how trust was a very fragile thing, but you could only comprehend a few words.

he laughed as he noticed the daze you seemed to be in, "are you listening?"

"oh.. sorry!" you spoke quickly.

he listened to your apology with a small smile, looking at you from top to bottom, slowly analyzing everything about your body. his stare coming back up to your face after a long minute of silence.

"you know.. you're kinda cute.." he said after a moment, leaving you stunned as he finished, "and i get an urge that you feel an attraction, of the sort, to me... now, please tell me if i'm wrong."

you stared at him blankly. he read you like a book. you tried to find a way to brush it off, but there was nothing that you could think of. "..i guess you're right." you said in a shy tone.

he looked at you with a small smirk, "well.. im not experienced on homosexual intimacy much.. but i could always. i sense the feeling that you want me in this very moment.. would that be wrong?" he said, leaving you to frantically shake you head, he was right, and you wanted him to know it. he was getting you desperate.

"hmm... well, as far as i know.. we'll be alone in here for a while, most of the other players are probably sleeping at the moment..." he said, diverting his gaze away from you for a moment before looking back at your widened eyes. "shall we start..?"

"uhm.. yes.." you said, looking at him, waiting for him to continue doing something, whether that be an action or more speech.

"what are you into.. and what are you not into.." he said, waiting for you to respond.

you mentioned a list of things, but the few you listed first all seemed to be pain related, and that intrigued youngil. "do you have a safeword..?"

you nodded and said your safeword, receiving a nod from him. "is there anything else men talk about before they have intercourse?" he asked, receiving a small chuckle from you.

"not really... it's basically the same as any intercourse.. just one less hole to find." you joked before asking, "then, are you ready."

"of course.." he said before untying the drawstring on the bottoms of the tracksuit, letting them be loose around the waist. you did the same thing, except everything went off.

the cold breeze went through the air, hitting your unclothed body and giving you shivers.

young-il looked at your nude body for a moment, taking in the sight of your figure, before doing the same.

you looked at his nude body after he managed to get everything off, trying to resist the pleased smile you had been wanting to place on your face. you slowly kneeled down on the mint green tiles, the temperature no longer being an issue. as you stared at his dick, you could almost watch it slowly rise. he was clearly enjoying this as much as you were. you placed your hands on his balls and placed your mouth on the tip, slowly teasing it by moving your mouth down once, and immediately removing your lips.

he glanced down at you, making eye contact. he clearly was not pleased with your teasing. his intimidating glare made you get back to work, bopping your head up and down his cock and having your tongue wiggle down it strategically.

young-il had let a small groan escape from his lips before quickly letting more follow. this reaction had you more than pleased, making your speed increase and letting your hands start to tease his balls.

"can i?" he asked through pants. you nodded, your mouth still on his dick as he let his semen release. the warm licked spilled onto your tongue and coated the back of your throat. you left it in there for a minute before swallowing it. looking back up at him with pleading eyes.

"you're too cute." he mumbled, leaning down to place his hand on your shoulder, slowly rubbing back and forth. "and so eager.." young-il continued, crouching down to be face to face with you.

young-il grabbed your face in a possibly rough way, his hand on your chin as he held your face close to his. he smirked for a moment before moving his face in, placing his lips on yours. the kiss quickly became heated, the two tongues fighting for dominance as you ran your hands all around his body. the kiss went on for a long while, his arms wrapping around your waist and leaning your body into his.

opening his eyes, young-il took a look at your desperate demeanor. he smiled in the kiss and slowly pulled away, gaining a small whine from you. youngil observed your body once more before carefully lowering you onto the tiles of the bathroom floor. your dick was desperately hard and seeking for any sort of friction, so when he finally rubbed a hand on your dick, you let out a breathy moan. the volume of that moan echoed throughout the bathroom, and it wouldn't be shocking if it reached the hallways too.. but that was honestly the least of your worries. he grabbed your dick and stroked up and down on it. he was damn good at a handjob. it didn't take long for you to go over the edge, long streams of white liquid emerging from your cock and landing into his hand and all over the floor.

young-il smiled at you, helping you turn around on the floor, your torso and face laying on the tiles. he stood up and washed his hands thoroughly before leaning back down and placing his hands on your ass, carefully massaging it before taking a finger and sliding it into your butt, moving it inward and outward at a slow pace, slowly starting to stretch you out. it didn't hurt.. if anything, you could barely feel it.. until he slid the second finger in. he curled one finger and kept the other straight, allowing him to reach more unexplored places in you. this didn't go on for a long while, both of you quickly losing patience.

young-il slid his fingers out of you and quickly aligned his dick with your asshole, rubbing it against a few times before slowly sliding into you. you groaned loudly as you tried to adjust to his size. he smirked as your back went into more of an arch shape. he placed both of his hands on your sides, using it to hold you stable and keep you from slamming into the hard tiles of the floor. the speed of him slowly started to increase as he got closer to his high.

"do you want it in or out..?" he said with a groan.

"..out.." even if you couldn't see it, he nodded and slammed into you a few more times before pulling out and letting his semen coat your back. as he finished, you quickly turned yourself around and wrapped your hand around your cock, stroking yourself to finish your high. the pants that escaped your lips filled the room before a loud moan followed, your semen falling on the floor once more.

you looked at young-il with a defeated smile, the exhaust of your body hitting you. he looked back at you, landing a small kiss on your lips. this was going to be a memory you both will remember for a while.

[pretty-sparkle-bomb]

Heya! My area just had a really nice snow so it gave me a cute idea.

Can you write a oneshot where fem reader x Bakugo are outside heading back to the dorms or something and the reader initiates a snowball fight? They both like each other but the other doesn't know it but maybe they fall in the snow or something and Katsuki can't hold back his feelings anymore? 🥰🥰

I also really like Kirishima, he doesnt get enough love, so maybe one for him too? (If you want to and have time of course!) Thank you and I hope you have a nice weekend!

Fun fact: I have never touched snow before.

"Cold Hands, Warm Hearts"

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Fem!Reader Genre: Fluff, Mutual Pining

The walk back to the dorms was peaceful, the fresh snowfall muffling the usual noise of the city. Streetlights bathed everything in a soft golden glow, and the air was crisp and clean.

Beside you, Katsuki walked with his hands stuffed in his pockets, his breath visible in the cold air. He wasn’t complaining, but you could tell by the slight furrow of his brows that he was impatient to get inside.

Which made it the perfect time to strike.

You bent down ever so slightly, scooping up a handful of snow, compacting it just enough to make a solid snowball.

And then—

SMACK!

The snowball exploded against Katsuki's shoulder.

He froze. Slowly, very slowly, he turned his head to look at you, eyes wide with disbelief. You, on the other hand, were biting your lip to hold back a giggle, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"The hell was that?"

You shrugged innocently. "A snowball fight, obviously."

"You little—"

You didn’t wait for him to finish before you launched another one, this time aimed at his chest. He dodged it last second, and suddenly, the air changed.

Oh, you were so screwed.

"Alright, shortstack," Bakugo growled, crouching down to grab a handful of snow. His smirk was sharp, his red eyes glinting dangerously. "You wanna play? Let’s play."

You yelped and tried to run, but it was too late. A snowball hit your back, another against your thigh, and before you could retaliate, Katsuki tackled you into the snow with a triumphant cackle.

A very ungraceful squeak left your lips as you landed beneath him, the cold seeping into your clothes. His weight was carefully balanced, so he wasn’t crushing you, but he was definitely trapping you.

The laughter died down, leaving only the sound of your breaths mingling in the crisp air.

You became painfully aware of how close he was—his warm breath fanning against your cheek, his hands bracing on either side of your head. His red eyes were softer now, gazing at you like you were something fragile.

"Y’know," he muttered, his voice low, "you’re a real pain in the ass."

You swallowed, suddenly shy. "Yeah... but you love it."

He let out a short chuckle. "Yeah," he admitted, voice quieter now. "I do."

Your breath hitched.

Then, before you could even process what was happening, his lips were on yours—warm and firm, completely at odds with the freezing cold surrounding you.

It wasn’t rushed or aggressive like you might’ve expected. It was sweet—like he had been holding this in for far too long and couldn’t stand another second without kissing you.

When he finally pulled away, his cheeks were pink—not just from the cold.

"You gonna keep throwin’ snowballs at me now?" he muttered, resting his forehead against yours.

You grinned, eyes twinkling. "Only if you promise to tackle me again."

Damn snowball fights.

Maybe this one wasn't so bad though.

"Snowball Smiles"

Pairing: Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader Genre: Fluff, Mutual Pining

The first snowfall of the season always made Eijiro feel like a kid again. The way the snow crunched under his boots, how the world felt softer under its icy blanket—it was the kind of thing that made him wanna do something fun.

Luckily, you had the same idea.

"Hey, Eiji!"

Eijiro turned at the sound of your voice—just in time for a snowball to smack right into his chest. For a second, he just stood there, blinking in surprise. Then his lips curled into a slow, dangerous grin.

"Ohhh, you are so done."

Before you could react, he was already scooping up a handful of snow. You squeaked and tried to run, but he was fast—he launched a snowball right at your back, laughing as you let out a dramatic gasp.

"Traitor!" you shouted, giggling as you spun around and threw another one.

What followed was a full-on war. Snowballs flew through the air, both of you laughing as you dodged and retaliated. Eijiro cheeks were flushed—not just from the cold, but from how beautiful you looked, all bundled up and laughing, your breath visible in the air.

Then, just as you were about to throw another, he lunged—

And you both went down.

You landed in the snow with a soft oof, Kirishima’s arms wrapped around you protectively as he cushioned the fall.

For a moment, everything stilled.

You were so close. Your nose was pink from the cold, your lips slightly parted in surprise, eyes wide as you looked up at him.

And damn, if he wasn’t already head over heels, this moment sealed it.

"...Uh," he started, voice unusually soft. "Guess I win, huh?"

You raised a brow. "You call this winning?"

"Yeah," he murmured, gaze dropping to your lips for just a second before flicking back to your eyes. "Because now I don’t have to hold back anymore."

Then he kissed you.

It was warm and a little clumsy, but who was complaining? His lips were slightly chapped from the cold, but you didn’t care—not when he kissed you like he meant it, like he had been waiting for this for so long.

When he pulled back, his grin was blinding.

"So, uh… do I still gotta throw another snowball, or can we just stay like this for a bit?"

You giggled, looping your arms around his neck. "I think we can stay like this for a bit."

And just like that, Kirishima decided—snowball fights? Best thing ever.

This kinda melts my heart🎀

[grimesbunny]

tonight i feel like more

summary: dry humping. sub daryl (but he doesn’t know it) lets goo. awkward sex. probably ooc. they do everything but kiss LMAOO.

inspired by that one s2/3 panel where norman says if someone tried to kiss daryl he’d start crying cause he isn’t ready for all that. hasnt left my head since i watched it. title from digital bath by deftones

dry humping farm era daryl :( coming out to his secluded tent one night under the guise of checking on his injuries and your playful flirting gets too real too fast somehow. you’re both pent up from what feels like months of tension that you can’t even bother to shed your clothes— or maybe daryl just isn’t ready to cross that threshold yet— it doesn’t even matter because the moment you sit yourself on his broad lap and feel the hard, thick outline of him pressed against you through your clothes, you forget to care.

he’s instantly whining at the friction, ducking his head and using your neck to shield you from seeing how red his face has grown, how embarrassed he is that simply talking to you has made him so hard. you do it on purpose, talking to him in that sweet, endearing tone that you know drives him crazy. constantly teasing him with your eyes and touches until he scoffs off your advances. in your defense, the effect you have on him is just too addicting not to play with a little.

“aw, dar, don’t be shy.” you giggle out quietly, your soft arms coming to rest on his shoulders and intertwine behind his back. “look at me.”

the defiant grunt he lets out doesn’t have the same effect when it cracks with desire. like yanking the leash on a dog, you pull the hair at the nape of his neck firmly enough to send him into action. his pupils are dilated, but his eyes remain squinted stubbornly even as he does as he’s told.

“what? we gonna make out all night like a coupla teenagers?” he attempts to be snarky, but the nervous tremor in his voice betrays him.

“why, is that the farthest you’ve ever gone?” it’s half joking, half a genuine question.

from what you’ve heard, daryl had spent most of his life following merle around like a lost puppy pre-apocalypse. you wonder if any significant others had filled some of the space in between, and a part of you is jealous just thinking about it.

he snorts. “i ain’t no virgin mary, that’s for sure.”

well, that’s too bad. you could’ve really gotten off on being his first.

“oh, okay. so you know what you’re doing then?”

he’s silent, an unreadable expression on his face.

as if to prove a point, you grind down on his bulge with one fluid motion. daryl’s jaw falls slack and a barely there whimper tumbles out, eyes widening up at you with submission, vulnerability. it makes your cunt throb, makes you want to give him everything and make him beg for it at the same time.

“feels good, hm?”

“cmon, stop… stop playin’ around.” he huffs— grits out more like. as if using his voice while he’s in such a compromising position is physically paining him. you watch his eyes drift to your chest, which is quickly rising and falling with your synchronized pants.

“oh, you can do better than that, dixon.” you chide lightly. “what happened to that smart mouth of yours?”

“i… can you…” daryl sucks in a deep breath, his gaze lowering to the spot your groins are connected. “just fuckin’ move.”

you lean back, giving him a better view of the expanse of your torso, the way the strap of your camisole has started to fall down your shoulder. daryl seems to bite the bait, tongue darting out to gather the pool of drool starting to gather around his lip. it rings a laugh out of you.

“with that attitude, i should just go back inside. leave you all alone to take care of yourself.” you threaten. his response is immediate, as his large hands that were once gripping the blankets below him come to hold your waist in place with a bearish grip. waiting, you raise an eyebrow at him.

he looks off to the side. “p…please.”

it’s faint, reluctant. still, the rush of power he’s giving you makes your head spin. he’s realistically much stronger than you, could quickly take control of the situation without breaking a sweat with that advantage alone. but he’s choosing to let you lead, to do as you say. you can’t say it’s something you expected, but you’re not gonna complain.

your lips stretch into a grin, patting his cheek like one would a puppy. “attaboy. that’s what i thought.”

you can feel daryl’s cock kick at the praise, and it encourages you to buck down into it. you both moan at the same time, hands tightening around each other as you continue to slowly drag your cunt along his cock. the heat emanating from your clothes is blossoms in below your navel and traps you in.

“you like that, don’t you? doing what you’re told?” your hips slowly gain speed, hands traveling to perch on daryl’s shoulders. his muscles flex underneath your fingertips from exertion.

he does nothing but lowly whine in response, attempting to duck his head again.

“say it.” you push. “say it or i’ll stop.”

“fuck. yeah. i don’t know.” he grunts, his hips canting to chase your warmth. “i like hearin’ you say it.”

“that you’re being so good for me? letting me get off on your lap?” you tease meanly, lifting forward to talk in his ear. “that your cock feels like heaven right now and it’s not even out of your pants?”

the groan that emits out of him is followed by a frustrated sigh. daryl’s hands shakily run under your shirt, up to your waist. you can tell he’s unsure of his movements.

“you can touch me.” you allow graciously.

building up to it, his hands travel slowly. you almost start to believe he’s purposely teasing, but the clumsiness of it all makes you think otherwise. its like a dam breaks when daryl finally reaches your breasts, the fabric of your top bundling up on your chest. he squeezes hesitantly, then his calloused thumbs circle around your areola as your hips draw circles in his lap. daryl watches your nipples harden in unadulterated fascination, his breathing heavy. either he does know what he’s doing or he’s aimlessly exploring and just so happened to make the right move.

he looks up at you for permission and your nod is all he needs to lean forward, catching one of your supple titties on his tongue. it sends your back arching, nearly knocking him back onto the ground.

“fuck, yeah. just like that, baby.” you feel his spiky hair underneath your fingertips as you tug on the roots for stability, which earns a distinct noise from the man below you. the pleasure curling at your spine from his tongue spurs your movements on, beginning to hump into him with all your effort. his bulge keeps knocking against your clit in a way that has you on the verge of seeing stars. “feels so good, daryl.”

“oh, shit. y’gonna… i’m about to…” his voice splits on the last part and it makes your heart clench, disbelieving as you lift his head up to meet his eyes. sure enough, they’re glistening with unshed tears in the dim light.

“already?” your smile and voice are dripping with sympathy. “it’s okay, let it out. i want to feel it.”

you’re bound to have bruises from how hard daryl squeezes you when he releases. it’s a sight to be seen; his face twisting up, strong muscles bulging as he struggles to stifle the cry that’s ripped out of him. his hips drive up into yours, and you swear you can feel it paint his pants, his cum mingling with the damp spot you’ve left.

“you’re so sensitive. god, that’s hot.”

he’s too high on his orgasm to come up with a retort to that. to his surprise, you continue chasing your own pleasure, paying no mind to the fact that he’s rapidly softening. your hearts racing, body tingling with warmth as you reach the brink.

“wait,” his voice is watery. “s’too much.”

“don’t be selfish, dar. i’m not finished with you yet.” you’re breathless at this point, just barely expending the last of your mental energy to respond to his whines. “you can take it a little longer, can’t you?”

his head falls back, and you’re not sure if the noises come from his mouth are from pain or pleasure or both. he nods anyways, watery eyes flicking down to watch your supple tits bounce.

you squeeze onto his biceps. “you’re being so good. gonna make me cum so hard.”

daryl’s whining and squirming underneath you, fingertips piercing your thighs exposed by your shorts.

“you’re so pretty.” he sniffles, whispers in a way that seems subconscious. “how … how can i help?”

ironically that question, of all things, is what sends to the edge. your orgasm is wrung out of you, rippling through your body like a wave as you spasm on his lap. daryl’s noises rival your own in volume, the overstimulation becoming painful.

you both pant together as the last of the aftershocks fade.

“are you okay?”

“my dick is sore.” daryl says at the same time. his voice is raw, vulnerable.

“i’m sorry.” you giggle breathily, going to stand up. his hands hesitate in letting you go, but eventually he drops them to his sides again.

he scratches the back of his neck as you straighten all of your clothes out.

“where’d you learn to… talk like that?”

a smile makes its way back onto your face as you shrug. “you kinda just brought it out of me. seems like you liked it.” you pointedly glance at the large stain on the front of his pants.

“shit. gonna have to burn these in the walker pit. don’t want carol clutchin’ her pearls at me on laundry day.”

“nuh uh. save ‘em for next time.” you joke.

he squints at you again in true daryl fashion. his face is red and his hair is sticking to his forehead with sweat. the sight is almost enough to make you want round two right there and then. maybe with a little less clothes.

“ain’t gon’ be a next time.”

you snort, bending down to grab your forgotten flashlight. “right.”

he watches you unzip the tent, eyebrows pulled together pathetically. there’s definitely going to be a next time.

[dronningreid]

✧ Part 1: All the times I knew you

A seemingly ordinary case turns into something more when reader returns to Reid's life. Forcing him to tell something that he never told, the beginning of a story that broke his heart fourteen years ago.

change the ending series masterlist

who? Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

category: angst/fluff

warnings/content: reader jealous, reader is a little mean to jj (nothing personal, i love that queen), mentions of maeve, allusion to bullying, special appearance of alex blake, reid is a little mean to reader, very vague mentions of a case and reader and reid appear aged 12, 15 and 31. English is not my first language.

word count: 3.1K

a/n: Hello this is the first part of my series 'Change the ending' I hope you enjoy this as much as I loved writing this. There are a couple of references to the song cardigan (because that is my most personal song and also Spencer's)

14 years, 160 days, 33 minutes and 13 seconds. That was all the time that had passed since Reid last saw you.

It is said that there are always more questions than answers and that has never made more sense than today.

Today's case promised to be average on the Reid scale, of course.

Today promised to be just another day, like the rest. Just an irrelevant Wednesday where he would miss the Sunday of talking to Maeve, which was still fresh in his mind.

As fresh as you, a memory he should have let burn away fourteen years ago. But it wasn't that easy, even without his eidetic memory you attached yourself to his cerebral cortex as if you had been there since the first time he opened his eyes.

If there was one thing he had learned all those years ago, it was that the memories most want to forget are the ones hold on to the most tightly.

"Earth calling Reid." JJ waved her hand in front of his friend's face.

He blinked a few times. “Yeah. What’s up?” He tried to keep his gaze on JJ, but his eyes kept drifting to your shape. So close and so far at the same time... Just like the last time.

Maybe it was a mistake in his mind and it wasn't you, fourteen years had passed. How could he even recognize you? He didn't even know if you were still alive.

Maybe this time it was like when everything ended and he thought he saw you everywhere. In the grocery line, at school, at home...

As if you were a phantom he couldn't get rid of.

He knew those shadows weren't you and yet every time he thought he saw you it was like such a simple activity like breath became complicated out of nowhere. You used to have that effect, honestly you still have it.

Jennifer frowned before turning her gaze to you. But a couple more eyes weren't enough for you realize what was happen. "You know her?" The question caught him off guard.

How should he even answer such a question? Yes, more than anything. No. Of course. Maybe. Neither was a sufficient answer because on the one hand of course he knew you, at least that's how it was before and that's why he didn't know you, at least not now.

He shoved his hands into his pockets before finally looking at JJ. “She looks like someone I used to know.” 100% true? No, but pretty close.

"I was hoping so, it would help us if you met her." Reid frowned. "Bertram is our most viable suspect, if we lose him we're going to hit a wall." JJ explained something that Reid should already know, should.

"And what does that have to do with her?" Reid raised an eyebrow.

JJ was the one who frowned this time. "Spence, she is Bertram's lawyer. Are you okay?"

When he was about to answer, you approached him, increasing his questions, doubts and clumsiness.

"I'm Bertram Harris' lawyer." You introduced yourself before continuing, answering at least one of Spencer's questions. "What is the imaginary evidence against my client? Because if there was real evidence, charges would have already been filed." He knew that harsh tone so well...

"We have 48 hours before we file charges." Reid replied seriously.

"46 hours." You corrected so casually. He recognized you, but you didn't recognize him? Ouch.

"Well, we have a profile-" You didn't let Jennifer finish speaking.

"Profiles." You let out an exaggerated sigh. "I bet a lot of people would fit in your profile, so that's not enough to prove my client guilty in court." You spoke firmly, fierce as a defense lawyer, and you weren't in court yet. And even though he didn't exactly like your attitude, he had to admit that you were good.

Reid crossed his arms. "Out of so many people, it's amazing that the evidence will lead us right to your client. So we'll take advantage of the 46 hours we have left."

You snorted. "Fine, but when time passes and all of you have nothing against my client, he'll be upset about the time you made him waste." You pulled a pen out of your bag. "Give me your names."

JJ and Spencer shared a look before sighing and agreeing to your request. "Jennifer Jareau." You jotted the name down on your palm.

"Spencer Reid." A hint of mockery crept into his serious tone. Yes, you probably didn't remember his face, but his name was something you'd never forget.

You barely wrote the S on your palm and it was like the ink turned to poison when it came into contact with your skin. You immediately rubbed your palm against your trousers before looking up. "Spencer Re...?" The last few letters died in your mouth.

Of course, no one else had those beautiful eyes with hazel colors and golden flecks. So bright, so honest, so innocent. But now in those eyes there was nothing more than severity.

JJ's gaze traveled from Reid to you and back to Reid, using her profiling skills to determine why the air had suddenly become so thick.

"You look... Different." You whispered as he suddenly decided that silence was his best friend.

The wall he had built so long ago was still as strong as the last time you saw him. The last time he saw you he was so serious but this time after fourteen years he made you feel like you were seventeen again.

"You too." Rather than stating the obvious, that sounded like an insult.

JJ cleared her throat. "Spence." He looked away from you. "You know her?" Jennifer whispered in a failed attempt to get you not hear her.

"No." You were surprised at how quickly the letters that came out of his mouth took shape.

"Liar." You pointed out before looking at Jennifer. Though your attention wavered to the ring on her finger. "He knows every inch of me." You lifted your chin.

JJ raised her eyebrows and the way she looked at Reid it seemed more like gossip to her than a tease...

You thought. <<Yeah, maybe she doesn't>>

"Her husband's name is Will. It's not me, she's just my friend." He clarified, though it's not like you were entitled to clarification. At least you hadn't had that right for a long time.

Even when he was just a student he also had that ability to read you like an open book.

"And as for what you said, I'm not a liar." His tone was painfully stern. "I knew you before, fourteen years ago, but that's too long for anyone to remember." That's what he wanted to repeat to himself, because honestly the memories that were about you had no expiration date. "Now and maybe even then I have no idea who you are."

He gave you one last look before turning on his heel and walking off to somewhere where he couldn't sense your presence.

"I'll talk to Bertram about not pressing charges." JJ looked at you in confusion and to be honest even you couldn't believe that a stupid teenage love affair was enough to affect your work. At least you weren't the only one going through something like that.

"And I'm sorry..." A lump formed in your throat. "Maybe I shouldn't even ask you this, but could you deliver something to Spencer?" You then pulled a card out of your bag and handed it to Jennifer.

She studied the black card in her hand for a few seconds, carefully looking at your name and phone number. "Of course, I'll give it to him." She smiled slightly at you.

You gave her an awkward smile before turning away. God, you felt so stupid now for thinking she was his wife. Besides, what would be wrong with him having a wife? Spencer Reid deserved to be happy.

As soon as you left the police station, JJ pulled out his phone. "Penelope, you won't believe what just happened."

∗⋅✧⋅∗

Reid was in a small office going over all the evidence again for a reason he wouldn't admit out loud.

But he had already checked everything three times and had hit a wall all three times. The time it took him to figure things out could vary, but this was different.

What he didn't know was that the answer was there, it's just that his mind was too clouded at the moment to realize it.

And all that mental fog had a name: yours.

He loosened his tie, taking a deep breath to regulate his racing heart. Apparently you still had that effect on him, you, the protagonist of a story so old that it must have already had cobwebs. But unfortunately for him, that wasn't the case...

Spencer gripped the edge of the desk before taking another deep breath.

But his attempts to relax were cut short when his worst enemy: his own memory made him relive the last time he kissed your lips...

The soft skin against each other, the mingled breaths, your hands in his hair and the way he didn't see that those would be the last kisses.

"Another disadvantage of eidetic memory," he told himself. But now that he thought about it, did it have any benefit? Of course it did. But all the tangled threads in his mind didn't allow see the reality.

Someone knocked on the door and he jumped slightly in place before looking towards the door. "Blake..."

Blake smiled slightly at him. "Hi." Her eyes scanned the papers scattered across the desk and then Reid's disheveled appearance. "Is everything okay?"

He nodded quickly, taking his seat back behind the desk. "Yeah." But the way Alex looked at him made him say something else. "Not really."

She sat down in front of him. "Yes, we all know about the pretty lawyer."

"Jennifer..." Reid huffed before running his hands over his face.

"And who is she?" Blake asked in her usual calm tone.

<<Good question>>

A short time ago he was telling her about Maeve, he never thought he would tell Blake about another girl again and not so suddenly... But honestly you weren't another girl, you were THE GIRL.

Reid sighed. "She's nobody." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It must be someone if the smartest guy I know hasn't already given us a big revelation that will help with this case." Blake looked at him with understanding eyes. "Go ahead Reid, talking about it will help."

Reid rubbed his knees with his hands. "Well I can't tell you who she's, but I can tell you who she was."

∗⋅✧⋅∗

Spencer took a deep breath. "I don't even know where to start."

"The beginning is perhaps the easiest." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, encouraging him to continue.

"We had a lot of beginnings, if that's possible." He ran a hand through his hair.

His mind traveled back to the first interaction he had with you, when you were both 12. But before that, something else had to happen for him to get to know you, something very bad.

He was in the library when Harper Hillman approached him.

"Alexa Isben wants to meet you behind the field house." She said.

She was there. So was the entire football team. They stripped him naked and tied him to a goal post. So many kids were there, just watching...

He begged them to, but they just watched. Then finally they got bored and they left.

He had told that story to Morgan years ago, but he had completely erased you from it. Until now.

Alex looked at him with compassion. "It got dark and I thought I would stay there forever. But then she appeared..." He looked away, remembering it as if it were yesterday.

A little twelve-year-old you ran towards the goal post. "Oh my god. Who did this to you?" You kept your eyes fixed on his defeated face.

He had never seen you before, did you even study there? Because you didn't look the same age as the guys he was going to graduate with, the ones who had done this to him...

You looked much younger, like him.

You weren't discouraged by his lack of words, instead you considered how to help him. "Wait here, I'll go get some clothes and some scissors to cut the rope." You didn't wait for an answer, you just ran off to find what you told him.

The cold of the night was beginning to seep through his skin, freezing him. He didn't even think you'd come back, but then. "Be careful with the scissors, if I sting you, let me know." So you put all your effort into cutting the rope, at that moment you regretted not carrying a knife for ease.

Luckily, a single cut was enough to release the rope. You then spread the clothes you had found over him and covered your eyes with your hand.

"I hope it fits, it's my brother's so it might be a little big on you." Spencer took the clothes from your hands.

"Thank you." He whispered as he hurriedly put on each item of clothing. "You can look now." He said once he finished putting on the shirt.

You pulled your hand away from your eyes. “Oh, I forgot the jacket. You must be freezing cold.” You said as you hurriedly unbuttoned your loose black cardigan.

"Oh, you don't have to..." Embarrassment seeped into his words but you still put your cardigan on him.

"It's okay. You need it more than me. By the way, I'm..." Then you told him your name.

He watched as you finished buttoning the cardigan. "Spencer. Spencer Reid."

"You should tell me the names of those who did this to you, then I can tell my mother to expel them. She's the principal." You let your hands fall to your sides.

"It's not that bad..." Yes it was.

"Of course it was!" You exclaimed. "Give me names and I'll beat them up myself. I hate bullies."

Spencer let out a light laugh that quickly disappeared at the bitter feelings bubbling up inside him. "They're the older guys, you can't handle them. Besides, this could have been worse."

"Don't underestimate me." You tried to joke. "Worse? How long have you been tied up there? It's almost midnight" You looked at him with concern.

"Midnight?" His eyes widened. Surely his mother was worried that he hadn't come home.

So you grabbed him by the sleeve of the cardigan and dragged him along. "Come, I'll ask my dad to take you home."

∗⋅✧⋅∗

"So her dad drove you home?" Blake asked.

"Yes. It was like midnight when I got home. My mom didn't even realize I was late. She was having one of her episodes..." He sigh, how could something that had happened so long ago still have such a negative power over him? "I know I shouldn't get into a stranger's car and technically nothing bad happened to me, they helped me. But I did it... Because I felt like I could trust her but maybe it wasn't a good idea from the start."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that to meet her."

Spencer sighed and looked down. "I regret about both."

"Both?" Blake looked at him in confusion.

Reid looked up. "Yeah, what happened that day and meeting her." He replied with a seriousness too cold to be true.

Blake stared at him in silence for a couple of seconds before speaking again. "What happened next?"

"I don't saw her again, it was like she just vanished." He sighed. "Then three years passed and there she was again..."

"I was studying for my first PhD at MIT so I decided that over the holidays I wanted to go home to visit my mother. But instead of taking a flight I decided to travel by train."

It's funny how a single decision can affect our future.

∗⋅✧⋅∗

"The last train to Las Vegas leaves in five minutes." A voice announced through one of the speakers.

"One ticket, please." The woman at the ticket office handed him his ticket once he gave her the money.

Reid was about to board the train when you crashed into it.

"I'm so sorry." you continued to apologize as you helped him up from the floor.

He brushed off his clothes once he was standing again. "It's okay, don't worry."

You tried not to look at him, not after you had thrown him to the floor. But he did look at you which made his heart skip a beat when he recognized you.

He stared in your direction for a couple of seconds before deciding to continue and board the train.

"Oh, I, I had my money here." You patted your jacket pockets. "If you could just help me I'd pay you right away... It's just that it's very important for me to have that ticket because it's the last train to Las Vegas and I really need to go." But the woman at the ticket office didn't take pity on you.

Then Reid came over. "I'll pay for the ticket."

The woman didn't say anything, she just accepted Reid's money and handed you the ticket, which you immediately took.

"Thank you so much, you just saved my life." You followed him to board the train together.

"Okay, we're even now." He smiled slightly at you.

You hadn't planned on sitting next to a complete stranger but you followed him. "We're even?" You asked as he placed his luggage in the compartment.

"I'm Spencer." He hope that will refresh your mind.

You opened your mouth in surprise. "Of course! Spencer Reid, I remember you well." You scanned him from top to bottom. "The answer to where I left my favorite cardigan three years ago." You tried to load your luggage into the compartment but couldn't.

He helped you out, like a true gentleman. "I'm sorry I didn't see you again after that. Do you want it back?" He asked after closing the compartment door.

"You still have it?" You asked in disbelief.

"It's my favorite too." He whispered.

∗⋅✧⋅∗

"I didn't plan on things being like this, but she and I were together the whole trip. Just chatting and-" He looked down as nostalgia washed over him. "Marked me like a blood stain..."

"She seems pretty nice so far." Blake commented. "What went wrong?"

"She was really nice." He sighed. "At that time, nothing bad had happened. In fact, after that incredible trip I lost track of her again and didn't see her again until two years later."

He looked up. "But I didn't really know her until our third beginning, when everything started to go wrong..."

[svetamillss]

You came home drunk🥂

Featuring: Cho Hyun Ju x Reader(f)

Summary: You had a fun celebration of your friend's birthday.

A/N: The stories with my beloved girlfriend are back!

🩵🩵🩵

It was your best friend's birthday, of course you were going to go to it, but the truth is that your girlfriend was at work that day and couldn't join, so you went alone.

You had rules. First of all: to be always in touch. Secondly: don't drink a lot of alcohol, because it be a bad effect on you. Thirdly: be at home at eleven o'clock in the evening at most.

But you safely forgot all these three points...

No, no, you were in touch with Hyun Ju at first, but then the fun stunned your head.

And it's two o'clock in the morning. You were able to get home thanks to the taxi. True, not in a normal form. You could barely stand on your feet.

You quietly entered the house so that your beloved girl wouldn't wake up, you did everything very diligently, despite the darkness in the room and the headache. But then the light suddenly turns on and your eyes almost burst with pain, when you focused your eyesight, you were able to see your girlfriend in cute pajamas (which you gave her for her birthday), but with a very strict face. You got scared.

- Hyunnie! - you shout at the whole room, holding on to the ottoman near the door so as not to fall, but your girlfriend didn't even smile at you.

- So where were we?

- At a friend's birthday.. you know.. - you said stuttering, big thoughts and suggestions were given with difficulty, you wanted to lie down now and fall asleep in the arms of Hyun Ju, and not listen to lessons of behavior.

- I'm in the know. But it's two o'clock in the morning.

- Two o'clock in the morning? And you're awake?? You're tired at work..you need to get enough sleep..- even changing the subject didn't help you in any way, the severity of your girlfriend trampled everything.

- Don't interrupt me. We agreed that you would come back no later than eleven o'clock! We also agreed that you would always be in touch, but I've already lost you for four hours. - you looked back in a hurry, took out your phone to check and realized that it was turned off.

- Oh..he discharged..- a heavy sigh was heard from your girlfriend.

- I could have picked you up, but I thought that if you wanted to write to me, you would find an opportunity, but you had too much fun there. And the last one. You promised not to drink much, but you didn't do it either, you can barely stand on your feet, thank God you don't vomit yet. - Hyun Ju went to bedroom with disappointment, leaving you alone.

You immediately realized how many mistakes you had made and decided to act quickly before it was too late. Taking off your shoes, you crawled to the bedroom, where a girl was sitting on the edge of the bed, silently looking at the floor. You immediately crawled closer to her (it's just very hard for you to walk).

- Hyunnie... - you almost started crying, taking her hands in yours. - I'm sorry... I'm very guilty. It's just..just..we went for a walk so much that I'm completely lost..you know that I'm becoming so irresponsible without you. I really didn't want to..I'm sorry please..I love you very much..- after you looked into her eyes and noticed that her resentment was gradually disappearing, the girl touched her forehead with yours.

- I'm not mad at you. I'm very worried about you, you know. Don't worry, everything is fine. Just more, so that it doesn't happen, okay?

- Yes! Good! - in joy you want to kiss her, but she gently pushed you away, you looked at her with incomprehension.

- This is a small punishment for you. You'll be a little bit without kisses. Besides, you carry a lot of alcohol, and I can't stand it. So, let me help you undress, we'll go to bed, and tomorrow you'll rest after all this, okay? - you nodded understandingly, the girl said the truthful things.

Hyun Ju helped you change into your pajamas, she also brought you a headache pill and put you to bed. Like a real loving girl, she still kissed you, but on the forehead. After that, you fell asleep peacefully.

After all, living with a very disciplined person is still a task, but nothing prevents you. But you won't go to parties without her anymore, and it's not only because she won't let you go.

🩵🩵🩵

[biancadoes1]

The difference between Jakolas and true Lukolas:

This isn’t a competition to us.

It doesn’t matter what papped photos or rumors get spewed across social media. We know what Luke & Nic shared with us and the little they continue to share with us. As long as it continues to come from them, Lukola will prevail❤️ All other sources are deemed insignificant and it’s also not hurting us at all that Nic has such a lovely friend group that she is so passionate about. Nic & Luke have said time and time again how private they are. What is so hard to understand about that statement? We don’t go to the Jakola side of the fandom and flood it with disrespectful anonymous posts because we don’t care. It’s not going to change what we feel currently to be true. It won’t make N & L’s relationships change by attacking the Jakolas and their theories and trying to change their minds—they need to be the superior side of the fandom, so let them. The J & N romantic narrative is insignificant to us and it doesn’t come directly from Nic. We stay true to what Luke and Nic have shared and what Nic and or Luke continue to share, whether that just be work related photos, friend, vacation, or little morsels and crumbs for their fans. That’s all we need. It was said from L & N they thought it was sweet the fans shipped them. I’ve never heard that statement retracted in any form. I think it’s safe to say until further notice, the real true Lukolas will remain on this side of the fandom cheering on our favorite couple. It is human nature to have some doubt here and there, but what’s been so amazing about this side is the group of women who have been so positive and always there to give you the little pick me up you need to remember why you were here in the first place ❤️

And if one day either Luke or Nic decides to put our Lukola narrative to rest completely from their respective selves, this fandom I guarantee will respectfully bow out. That’s the difference:

RESPECT. I think we’ve figured it out.

I love it over here.

Well said ❤️