#and then one of them ran away and i had to corner her on said neighbor's porch

[aleskyyy]

Annoyingly Yours (FINALE) — Yeon Sieun x Fem!Reader

You is a bright, carefree high school girl who always smiles, makes friends easily, and sees the good in everyone—except not everyone sees the good in you. When your cheerful nature makes you the target of bullies, no one expects Sieun, the cold and grumpy boy who never talks to anyone, to step in. But he does—with sharp words and quiet strength that send the bullies running.

Warnings— none, just two love birds being a simp to each other.

Main Masterlist WHC Masterlist

Chapter Five

“Stop packing two lunches,” Sieun grumbled one noon, even as he opened the tidy bento box you'd slid onto his desk.

“It’s not two lunches,” you corrected, plopping down beside him. “It’s one balanced meal for a boy who forgets to eat breakfast.”

He surveyed the meticulously arranged tofu flowers and neatly rolled omelet slices. “You even made the rice into little bears.”

“Kuma onigiri are scientifically proven to improve mood.”

“I don’t need mood improvement.”

Yet when you looked away to trade gossip with a friend, he slipped one of the rice bears into his mouth and chewed, cheeks warming at the faint taste of sesame you'd added because you knew he liked it that way.

Final exams crept closer, bringing long evenings of shared silence at the town library. You spread color-coded flashcards across the table, humming while memorizing dates for history class. Beside you, Sieun sketched physics diagrams in swift, precise strokes.

Now and then you'd whisper a joke. He’d answer with a deadpan comment that made you clap a hand over your mouth to hide a laugh from the stern librarian. If your knee bounced restlessly, his sneaker would find yours under the table and tap once—a silent Calm down, I’m here. It always worked.

During breaks he drilled you with mock quizzes, and you bribed him with chocolate drops to keep him from overworking. The partnership was seamless, like puzzle pieces that had always been meant to lock together.

June brought the school’s summer festival, neon lanterns bobbing above courtyard booths. Your class ran a gold-fish-scooping stall; Sieun’s class sold bingsoo.

“Come on,” you pleaded, tugging his sleeve during a lull, “just one game. I’ll win you a fish!”

“I don’t want a fish.”

“Please? The volunteers need customers, and you look really cute in your robe.”

He flushed scarlet; the borrowed indigo robe was too formal for his liking. Still, he let you drag him to the booth. You broke the fragile paper scooper in seconds. He sighed, pulled out his own scooper, and—after a minute of intense focus—presented you with a single shimmering fish in a plastic bag.

“You said you didn’t want one!” you squealed.

“I don’t,” he replied, ears pink. “It’s yours. It reminded me of you—small and hyper.”

You punched his arm gently and beamed so brightly he had to look away to hide his smile.

When dusk settled and fireworks bloomed overhead, you stood in front of him, lantern-light crawling across your cheeks. You tipped up on your toes and pressed a quick kiss to his jaw, powder-sweet from festival candy. For a rare, unguarded moment, Sieun’s gruff mask dissolved, replaced by wonder.

“Happy?” you asked.

“Ridiculously.”

A week later your older sister spotted you and Sieun at the corner bakery. She cornered Sieun while you tested free samples.

“So you’re the boy making my sister float around like she’s in a drama.”

Sieun fumbled for his composure. “I—uh—sorry?”

“Don’t apologize. Just keep that look on her face.” She paused, eyes softening. “And keep letting her keep that look on yours.”

You returned with cream puffs, blissfully unaware of the tiny promise sealed in that brief conversation: he would guard your happiness as fiercely as he guarded his own quiet world.

It was never grand gestures that defined them—it was ordinary magic. The way Sieun instinctively moved you to the inside of the sidewalk when cars rushed by. The scribbled doodles you snuck into his notebook margins—miniature suns peeking over gray clouds.

Your Thursday tradition of sharing a single set of ear-buds on the bus ride, one wire each, playlists alternating between your bright pop and his instrumental lo-fi. His steady voice reading aloud from your literature assignments when your eyes grew tired, punctuated by your sleepy hums of agreement.

Little by little, classmates stopped calling you “too much.” They saw how Sieun—his barbed edges sanded smooth in your presence—looked at you like you was exactly enough. And if he thought so, well… maybe you really was perfect the way you are.

One afternoon, after your last exam, you reclaimed your favorite bench under the tree. Sunlight filtered through gold-green leaves, dusting them in soft speckles.

You swung your legs. “Guess what? I found a university with a great education program and a campus cat café.”

He pretended to think. “Does the cat café influence your decision?”

“Seventy percent.”

“What about the other thirty?”

“It’s near yours.” You nudged his knee with yours. “I want to keep being annoying.”

Sieun traced lazy circles on the back of your hand. “Good. I already applied there.”

Your gasp echoed up through the branches. “You did?”

He nodded, sudden shyness softening his voice. “Where else would I go?”

Your answering grin was sunlight itself. Without hesitation, you placed another bracelet—faded, frayed, but treasured—into his palm. “Will you keep this until we graduate university?”

He slipped it over his wrist, worn yarn against new skin. “Longer.”

Then, in full view of a sky too blue to keep secrets, Sieun leaned in and brushed a feather-light kiss over your temple, lingering just long enough to whisper:

“You, you’re ridiculous and I’m ridiculously in love with you.”

You tried to answer but only air came out—so you laughed, eyes shining, and kissed the words straight off his lips.

Years later, classmates would say they’d never seen a stormcloud look so content sitting beside the sun. And anyone who doubted the pairing had only to watch the way his frown melted at your laughter, or how your chatter hushed the moment he reached for your hand.

Grumpy and sunshine.

Quiet and chaos.

A boy who found his home in the warmth of a girl who refused to stop reaching for him—

—and the girl who discovered that even stormclouds can glow when lit from the inside.

© 2025 aleskyyy

[synity]

Almost Had You(Requested)

(Hong Joshua x FemReader)

*Slow-burn, Unrequited love, Angst, Forbidden romance, Slice of life Bittersweet, emotional drama, Melancholy Romance*

I remember the moment I met Joshua as clearly as I remember my own name. It wasn’t dramatic. No fireworks, no breathless stumbles into each other’s arms. Just a boy standing by the window, sipping ginger ale like it was something sacred, and looking at the world like he already understood it.

He wasn’t supposed to look at me.

But he did.

And I… I forgot how to breathe.

"Hey," he had said, that night. Just one word. Soft. Open. A word that should’ve been nothing.

But it sounded like the start of a symphony.

“Hey,” I returned, leaning against the table beside him, gripping my glass tighter than I should’ve. “Didn’t know strangers were allowed to stand there.”

“I was just admiring the light.” He smiled, the corners of his lips barely curving, and nodded toward the chandelier above. “It looks like it's floating.”

I turned my eyes upward. It did. Suspended like a secret, almost celestial. Just like that, we fell into something neither of us named.

He was my cousin’s friend. Not even invited just tagging along, another pretty face in a room full of loud laughter and too much wine. I was there because it was expected of me. The eldest daughter, the composed one, the quiet shadow always lingering behind her brighter little sister.

We talked for an hour. Then two. Laughed like the room wasn’t filled with a hundred other people. I told him I liked the way he looked at things like nothing escaped his notice. He told me he liked the way I listened like I wanted to catch every word before it vanished.

He asked for my number at the end of the night, and I hesitated.

Not because I didn’t want to give it. But because I already knew.

I already knew that if I gave it, there was no going back.

It was never official. But somehow, we kept finding each other.

Museum trips that just happened. Late-night calls that weren’t planned, just… needed. Books left half-finished so we could read them together. Hands brushing. Lingering. Never quite holding.

We were a breath away from something sacred, something too fragile to touch.

And then came her.

My sister. Younger by three years. Softer than I ever was. She had a laugh that wrapped itself around every room, a way of speaking that turned the dullest afternoon into poetry. Everyone loved her instantly.

Joshua included.

I saw it the first time they met. At our family home she breezed into the living room, fresh from class, in her ballet flats and oversized cardigan, and he looked at her like the sun had entered the room.

And I I watched my heart crawl to the back of my throat and choke there.

Later that night, she came into my room and flopped onto my bed, cheeks pink, smiling. “Your friend is cute.”

I smiled back. Like I hadn’t felt my whole world tilt six degrees left.

“Is he? You should talk to him more.”

I told myself it was the right thing. Told myself I was being noble. Told myself I didn’t really love him.

But my voice cracked on the word “more.”

He looked confused the next time we met. I was colder. Distant. Cutting conversations short. Laughing too lightly. Smiling too wide.

He noticed.

"You’re not… you," he said one night, after we ran into each other outside a bookstore.

“I’m just tired,” I lied.

He looked at me like he knew I was lying. Like he wanted to reach out. But I turned away before he could.

And when my sister texted him the next day, he replied.

She showed me the message with excitement dancing in her eyes, and I smiled like it didn’t sting. Like I didn’t taste blood in my mouth.

I sat at my desk that night and wrote in my journal: Somewhere in another life, I let myself want him. Somewhere, he was mine. But not here. Not this time.

A month passed. Then two.

He came to dinner more often. Not for me anymore. I watched her fall. I watched him try to keep his distance, at first. Maybe he thought of me. Maybe he remembered.

But eventually… He let go.

And she caught him.

I became a bystander to my own tragedy. The girl who introduced them. The sister who smiled at the engagement party. The one who stood beside her during dress fittings. Who helped her write her vows.

Who watched Joshua glance at her like she was the right choice, and at me like I was the wrong timing.

“You okay?” she asked me once, three weeks before the wedding.

We were in my room again. Her head was on my lap. I was braiding her hair.

"Why wouldn’t I be?" I said lightly.

She didn’t answer right away.

Then, softly, “Sometimes… I feel like there’s something I don’t know.”

My hands stilled.

"Like what?"

"Like…" she bit her lip. “Like you and Joshua used to be something. Or maybe wanted to be.”

Silence.

Heavy.

I smiled, just barely. "You read too many romance novels."

She laughed nervously. “Yeah. Maybe.”

And we didn’t talk about it again.

But the thing about secrets is: They don't go away. They just change shape.

They become glances across crowded rooms. They become the way his voice softens when he says my name. They become the way I memorize every part of the ceremony, just so I don’t cry.

The night before the wedding, he found me on the balcony. Alone. Holding a glass of champagne I hadn’t touched.

“Hey,” he said.

I turned slowly. “Hey.”

He stepped beside me, hands in his pockets, staring at the stars. “I thought maybe you’d be in there celebrating.”

“Too loud.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Silence stretched like string between us.

Then—

“Do you hate me?” he asked.

My eyes flicked toward him.

“No,” I whispered.

“You should,” he said. “You really should.”

“I was the one who walked away, Joshua.”

"You introduced me to her."

“I know.”

He swallowed. “Why?”

I turned to face him fully now, tears burning the edges of my eyes. "You were never mine to keep."

He looked at me like I was the only person who had ever broken his heart.

"You were the first person I ever…" He trailed off.

"Don’t," I said. “Please don’t finish that sentence.”

"Why not?"

“Because it’s too late.”

And then he did something reckless. Something stupid. He stepped forward. And he kissed me. Soft. Heartbreaking. The kind of kiss that tastes like finality. I kissed him back. Just once. Just long enough to remember. Then I pulled away.

“Tomorrow,” I said, breathless, “you marry my sister.”

He closed his eyes. Like he was praying. Or maybe cursing the stars.

And I walked away

The morning of the wedding, I stood in front of the mirror with a smile I had practiced for weeks.

My dress was the softest blue. Not white that was her color. Not gray though it suited my mood. Blue, like bruises. Like quiet heartbreak. Like pretending I was untouched.

In the dressing room, she twirled in her gown, her eyes shining. "Do you think he’ll cry when he sees me?"

I paused. Then smiled. “He’d be an idiot not to.”

She giggled, spinning again. “God, I hope I don’t trip walking down the aisle. You’ll catch me, right?”

“Always.”

And I meant it.

Even if I fell first. Even if he never caught me.

The ceremony was beautiful.

The kind of beauty you want to hate, but can’t. Because she looked like magic. Because he looked like he belonged. Because everything was perfect, on paper.

I stood beside her, holding her bouquet when she passed it to me. My heart was loud, a fist in my chest, but my face stayed still. I watched him as she walked toward him. And he watched me. Just for a second. A flash of something regret, maybe. Or apology. Or love, if I dared name it.

Then he turned away. And she took his hands.

“Do you take her”

I stopped listening.

Instead, I listened to the sound of silence between my ribs.

I looked at the floor. And when the priest said, “You may kiss the bride,” I forced myself to look up.

I watched them seal it with a kiss. And I clapped like everyone else.

At the reception, everything shimmered. Fairy lights strung through trees. Soft jazz humming beneath the laughter. People dancing, drinking, living. And me standing alone at the edge of it all, like the ghost of something almost real.

He found me again. Of course he did.

“You always disappear at parties,” he said quietly.

I didn’t look at him. “Maybe I don’t like being seen.”

“You liked it once.”

I turned to him then, sharp. “That was a different lifetime, Joshua.”

His jaw tightened. “I never stopped seeing you. That’s the problem.”

A beat.

I wanted to scream at him. To ask why he let me go. To ask why he didn’t fight harder. To ask if he was happy now, really, or just pretending like I was.

But I didn’t.

Because I still loved him. And love, for me, had always meant stepping aside.

“She loves you,” I said instead. “Don’t forget that.”

His eyes softened. “So did you.”

A pause.

“Still do.”

“Don’t,” I whispered.

He didn’t argue. Just nodded once.

Then she appeared.

My sister. Radiant. Breathless. Eyes flickering between us.

Her smile faltered just slightly.

“There you are,” she said, slipping her hand into his. “I was looking all over.”

His hand hesitated before squeezing hers. She looked at me.

“Did I… interrupt something?”

The question was casual. Light. But her eyes weren’t.

I shook my head. “No. We were just talking.”

She looked between us again.

Then tilted her head, as if studying a painting from a new angle. “You two used to be close, huh?”

I nodded slowly. “We were friends.”

She stared a moment longer. Then smiled. But it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Come dance with us,” she said to him. Then, to me, “Or are you going to disappear again?”

Her tone was joking. But it stung.

“I’ll watch,” I said softly.

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

She pulled him onto the dance floor. And he followed. But his eyes never quite left me.

Later, after cake and speeches and too many toasts, I stepped outside for air. The night was cool. The stars were blurred. And then I heard the door creak behind me.

I didn’t turn.

“I keep wondering,” she said softly, “if I imagined it.”

My breath caught.

She stepped beside me. “The way you looked at him. The way he looked at you.”

I closed my eyes.

“I wanted to believe it was just in my head,” she whispered. “That I was overthinking. That he was just nervous. That you were just… tired.”

I turned to her, finally. “You don’t want to finish that sentence.”

“Don’t I?” Her voice cracked. “Because I think I need to.”

Her lip trembled. “Tell me the truth.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Yes,” she asked again, voice trembling, “did you love him first?”

Silence.

Then

“I did.”

She flinched. Like I had slapped her.

“But I never-” I tried.

“You did.” Her voice was quiet. “Even if you never touched, even if you never spoke it you loved him. And he… he loved you back.”

I looked at her. My sister. My bright, beautiful, innocent sister.

And I saw it the crack forming in her heart.

I hated myself.

“I introduced you to him,” I whispered. “I stepped back. I let go.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks. “Did you do it for me? Or for you?”

“I did it because he deserved happiness. Because you did. And because I wasn’t brave enough to take it for myself.”

She covered her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” I choked.

She nodded slowly. “Me too.”

She turned away. Walked back into the warmth and music and glitter. And I stood in the cold, alone again. The song playing inside was slow. Romantic. And when I looked through the glass window, I saw them dancing. But her eyes weren’t on him. They were on me.

A YEAR LATER

They separated quietly. No lawyers. No shouting. Just sighs and silences.

“I need to be whole,” she said. “And I can’t be… if I’m living in someone else's love story.”

You begged her to hate you.

She refused.

“I don’t hate you,” she said. “I hate fate.”

And with that, she walked away.

Joshua found you a month later.

“You were never a secret,” he said. “You were a sacrifice.”

You let him hold you.

And for the first time in years, you didn’t let go.

EPILOGUE: LETTER TO THE PAST

Dear younger me, You were strong, even when you didn’t want to be. You loved with quiet dignity. You broke with silent grace. But you survived. And now, finally… you’re allowed to be happy.

[skywalkoverme]

𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐒𝐞𝐱

a/n: Request made by @skywalkershootme Enjoy!

𐙚 Anakin Skywalker x Fem! Reader 𐙚 18+ MDNI

Summary: You try breaking up with your DILF boyfriend.

Warnings/contains: dom! male, sub! fem, raw sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, rough sex, choking, lots of dirty talk, hair pulling, teasing, reader is in her early 20s, Anakin is in his mid 40s, proof read-- english is not my first language!

Word Count: 2k // More soon on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

You swung the front door open, a hand on your hip as you looked the man up and down. From behind his back, Anakin revealed a large bouquet of colorful peonies, lilies and tulips. “Happy birthday, baby.”

“Yeah, you’re late.” You folded your arms and blocked the doorway.

“I’m sorry! Leia had softball practice, and she left her stuff with her mother. And—“

“It’s fine.” He could feel that it wasn’t. You let him inside and sat on the couch. Decorations from the surprise party your friends threw scattered around with the essence of a good time.

It was late. Very late. One in the morning. “Penny is asleep in the studio. Don’t wake her.” You muttered and turned back to the television.

Anakin placed the flowers on the dining room table along with the other bouquets and presents you received. “Baby, baby. I’m sorry.” He sat beside you, elbows on his knees as he leaned in.

“You didn’t even call.”

“I lost my phone.” You rolled your eyes; he did this often seeing as how his memory wasn’t the best. But you didn’t want to hear that! “Baby?”

Frustration fumed within you. “You embarrassed me in front of my girls! This is the last time.”

He took your hands into his. “You know I love you.” He said calmly, “look at me.” Your eyes flickered to his, but your head was still turned away. “You’re the best thing to happen to me, ok? You’re the center of my universe.”

“It’s one in the morning.”

“I apologize. If you had let me finish, after I dropped off Leia’s belongings, I was headed to you, but Luke broke his nose in his rocketry class. He stayed late and was tinkering with the upper-class men’s work.”

“Is he ok?”

“He’s fine but I was at the ER until about…” He turned his left wrist over and read the watch, “twenty minutes ago.” Your head lowered, “You have every right to be angry with me. I understand that communication isn’t my strong suit but, Doll, you can’t leave me.”

He was right, like always, you can’t. Never had you met a guy so perfect for you. Your fingers brushed the grey hairs in his stubble; red-ish dark hair filled your hand as he leaned into you, his arms crossed behind your back, and he pulled you closer. His voice was gruff but as gentle as it could be, “I love you, sweetheart.”

You found it hard to pull your gaze from his eyes, “I love you too.” You said softly so only his ears could hear.

“Happy birthday.” He said as of reminding you and placed a kiss between your eyebrows.

“Thank you.”

“I have a few gifts for you, Can I show them to you?” You nodded and kept your arms around his neck, your ass on his lap. He opened a small bag by his feet and retrieved a marooned, velvet box the shape of a rectangle. He turned it to you and showed the gold necklace with a butterfly pendant. You lifted a bundle of your hair away from your neck and he leaned into you, clipped the ends of the necklace around you and let it rests above your breasts. “And…I know you like to take mine, so,” From the bag, he gathered another velvet box and revealed a watch to match his. “This one actually fits you.”

“Thank you.” You said softly as the quartz face of the watch gleamed in the light of the television. “I apologize for being rude earlier.”

“You know I’m used to your attitude.” His hands cuffed your cheeks, thumbs ran over the corners of your mouth. “You still seem tense.” The man noted as you sat comfortably on his jeans. “Let me help you.” A callused hand ran down the sides of your birthday dress and rest on your hip, the other on the back of your neck.

The tension was palpable as you avoided his gaze, “I feel bad asking for sex after…treating you that way.” You could feel his exhales on your face, a firm look was steady on your face.

“This is a first.” He chuckled deeply and took a breath of your sweet perfume. His hands roamed over the curves of your breasts and back down to the perfect curves of your hips. “Lay on me.” You rest your lips on his; his grip hardened on your body. Your delicate skin against him as he deepened the kiss with a groan. His lips moved against the sweet seam of your mouth, enticing it open for his tongue.

“Penny is in the other room.” You said through breaths.

“Then you must be quiet.” The hand on the back of your neck brought you back against him. Your body flush against him, he could feel your soft breasts and hard nipples. Without a doubt, you’d be sore from his grip alone in the morning. His hand moved from your hip to your ass, gently tugging your pink thong to the side. “Fuck.” His fingers slipped around your wet heat, “Did I do this?” He asked as you raised your dress higher.

“Yes, Daddy.”

He slapped your ass; he took your bottom lip between his teeth. “It’s that sorta’ night?” You blushed as his firm cock pressed on your pussy through his jeans. With a sway of your hips, you rubbed your clit on the bulge, back and forth, “You have no idea what I’m thinkin’, Sweetheart.” He said through rough kisses. Your chest rose and fell against his body, his hot breath fanned over your ear as he whispered. “I’m going to fuck you over this couch. Try your best not to wake your friend, alright?” You nodded quickly as he pulled the clothes off your body. His cock throbbed under you as his mind raced. It’s been days since he’s spread you out and fucked you right.

You managed to pull his cock from his jeans; memories flooded your head at the sight of it. He applied pressure on his kisses, a hand on the front of your throat. The man guided your body, your pussy rubbed against the length of his cock. Your thumb brushed the precum and swiftly, you sucked it off your thumb. “Quit teasing me.” You sighed.

He squeezed your throat until you stopped whining. He rubbed his thick cockhead against the slick folds of your pussy. Anakin groaned from the overwhelming warmth, his need for you clouded his thoughts. Your eyes fluttered shut as he thrusts his hips upward into you. You bit his finger that pressed over your lips. He buried himself to the hilt in your heated walls.

Anakin paused for a moment and let your body adjust to his size. You squirmed in his grip as he chuckled, “You feel heavenly, sweetheart.” His voice deep as he felt your deep bite on his finger. “…so fucking tight and hot around my cock.” You nodded as he slowly stroked inside of you. “Don’t I fit so nicely in this pussy?” You gave him a drunken nod; his hips rolled in a deep grind against yours. Each thrust reached a new nerve, shockwaves of pleasure sent through your beautiful body as you wadded over him.

He pulled his finger from your mouth, “Shhhh.” He reminded, his tongue found your mouth again started stroking, twined with your own. He swallowed your sweet moans and whimpers down his throat. “That’s it, baby. You’re taking every inch.” Before you could reply, his tongue swirled inside of your mouth, panting kisses shared between you two. “You’re so precious.”

He hooked your legs over his elbows and turned you on your back. You pressed onto the soft couch cushions as he loomed over you. Soon, his hand found your neck again and his cock drove deeper into your pussy. A helpless squeal left your lips as his heavy cock fucked you harder. With each deep stroke, his cockhead kissed your cervix. Your eyes fell back into your head, twitching fingers reached for him desperately. He could feel it when you came on his cock, your sweet pussy clutched him tightly, and your cum dressed his cock in sweet cream.

Anakin leaned closer to you until your soft fingers met his cheeks. “I’m here, baby. I’m here. Baby girl.” His rough and lustful voice made you cling tighter to him, “I’m gonna fill you to the brim, sweetheart.” He panted, his hot breath mixing with yours between the small space. It was a miracle you weren’t tearing holes into the couch cushions from the stretching pleasure.

Anakin snarled as you gripped around him tighter. The feeling of your soft cervix kissing his cock with each thrust, your body submitting beneath his relentless strokes, was enough to drive him inside. “Fuck yes,” Every time he pulled from you, your pussy pulled him right back. His heavy balls slapped against your ass, “Fuck, take my cum.” He could feel his release close to the edge of his cock.

Your breathy moans were soft, mindful of the woman that lay asleep in the bedroom down the hall. His hand tangled in your hair and brought your neck to him. He latched onto you as if trying to draw blood from your system. He sucked on the skin as he fucked you relentlessly. “I- I’m gonna cum, Baby!” His voice strained as he tried to hold back. “You want my seed?” You nodded, holding a hand over your mouth to keep your loud moans from escaping. Anakin pressed his hips against yours and emptied himself deep inside of you as you came with him. “M~ ngh~” Each stream of thick, hot cum flooded your womb.

His hands were gentle as he pets your cheeks, working you through your own trembling orgasm. He tilted your chin up with callused fingers and wiped away your tears. Anakin gazed down at you with sweet adoration; he could feel your swollen and tender flesh quivering around his thick cock, still aching from your first round. “How’d I do, baby?” He asked, softly stroking inside of your well-used pussy. Your eyes twitched closed as your fingers fell from the overstimulation. As he pulled his hips back and forth, your sorry clitoris taking all the pressure. “Should I stop?” You twitched and shook your head. He leaned down until his elbows rest of either side of your head, his biceps enclosed your head. “What a greedy cunt…you aren’t leaving me anytime soon.”

Each grind more delicious than the last as his cum spilled out of you and on the couch. Your tender folds and clit pulsed, “Doesn’t my cock feel nice?” He asked, his breath on your lips. “Say it.”

“Y- your…” He turned your head back to him, “Your cock feels so…n-nice.”

“Daddy fucked your greedy cunt so well, didn’t he?” Your forehead rests on his as you nod. “All red and sore, isn’t she?” He slid a hand down to your breast, kneading gently. He pinched your nipple and rolled it between his fingers. “Poor baby…” He whispered, thrusting harder as he fucked you into the couch.

“Daddy~” In an almost punishing pace, Anakin rocks himself into you. “A~ ah!”

“Shhh.” His lips pressed down onto yours, capturing the swell of moans in his throat. “Let me finish you off, baby girl.” He thrusts deep into you, punishing your clitoris endlessly, “What’s wrong?” He cooed and pushed tears away from your cheeks. “Is this too much?”

Anakin pulled out of your cunt; your hole stretched and oozing your shared orgasm. “You are so beautiful, baby. Such a pretty pussy…” He gazed at you between your quivering thighs, “You don’t believe me?” He asked before dragging his tongue over the seam of your cunt with a slow, deep lick. He could taste himself on your sensitive skin. Your legs spasmed from the pressure while he enjoyed the feel of your swollen clitoris.

Anakin focused on your throbbing heat and sucked on your tender nub. Your heart raced as he held your thighs open, circling and flicking your clit until tears ran down your soft cheeks once more. “A~ Ani~” You whimpered helplessly from the strums of pleasure. You were completely undone beneath him, conflicted and heated.

A hand rose to your face, gently caressing your cheek. You leaned onto his hand and let your eyes shut. “It’s ok, baby.” His tongue dove into your center, eating your soft pussy. There was a glow about you, an orgasm heat on your cheeks from the lovemaking. He couldn’t care less about your friend in the other room nor the sounds you both were making in the living room.

After all, it’s your big day. Well, it was yesterday. Now it’s 3:47AM and you lay in your shared mess with his kisses up and down your throat. He took your wrist into his clutch, careful of the gold watch, and kissed your fingers.

a/n: Happy (early/late) birthday to anyone reading this!

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[sunnywalnut]

My dogs are evil, next question

[marlynnofmany]

In the interest of not derailing this already-long-and-awesome thread, here are some more details! (Paging @sparrows-corner and any other interested parties.)

So in my first semester of college, I took an Intro to Psychology class. I didn't expect anything special; it was just one of those general education courses that everybody was supposed to take at some point. But it turned out amazing.

What the general public didn't know at that point was someone in the college administration had screwed up and forgotten to assign a teacher to this class. Until a week before class. When several students emailed to ask why that detail was missing in the online listing.

The administration panicked, scrambled for someone-anyone-omg-who-can-drop-everything-and-teach-this-class. They called recently-graduated owners of Masters Degrees in teaching.

They found Sandy.

She was qualified and available, and much older than the average recent grad, with the confidence to go with it. This was still a daunting task, though, and she agreed on one condition: that she team-teach the class with a friend of hers who was still working on finishing his degree.

Having no other choice and seeing no real problem with this, the administration agreed. And thus was born the most glorious educational comedy act in my entire academic career. The two of them were a delight. They knew all the stuff they needed to teach, and they knew a great deal more, and they delivered lectures in a way that had everyone paying eager attention. It was great.

This friend, by the way, was awesome in his own right. While Sandy was a curly-haired white lady around middle age, Wayne was a black guy who (1) dressed in impeccable suits and (2) had cerebral palsy.

I think a lot of 18-year-old minds were quietly enlightened about a few things just from watching these two banter back and forth, one with joints more wobbly than the other. Wayne told a memorable anecdote at one point about stopping by a grocery store in sweat pants instead of his usual classy wear. The cashier asked some gentle question about what he spent his time on, assuming that he had some sort of carer following him around. The expression on her face when he told her that he taught college was one I'll never forget, and I didn't even see it.

Anyways, at the end of this semester, the two teachers asked a few of us smart kids if we wanted to be TAs (teaching assistants) for the next semester. Since most of us had already become friends during the make-a-group-and-discuss-things portions of the class, this sounded like a party that would look good on our records later. And it really was.

I TA'd for that class a few times in a row, with my buddies and the two very cool teachers. We met up outside of class for holiday parties and everything.

And, since this was during the time the Lord of the Rings trilogy was first coming out in theaters, we all dressed up in costume and went to an early screening together.

Wayne drove. His handicap placard meant we got to park at the front, which was pretty awesome.

Now, I'd met people before who knew more LotR lore than I did, but they all paled in comparison to Sandy. As I said in the notes on that other post, she shared some stories of her youth with us. When she was fourteen, she ran away to join a hippie commune. She already knew fluent elvish, and she used that to help the commune's drug-runners stay out of the clutches of the cops, by translating their drug notes into a language the cops couldn't read. With a start like that, it was unsurprising that she still knew elvish now, along with all sorts of fascinating deep lore.

She had a limited edition book that looked shockingly expensive. She made beeswax candles for all the TAs as holiday gifts, with our names written on them in elvish. I still have mine somewhere.

I haven't heard from any of these lovely people in a long time, since college moves on and so does life, but I will treasure those memories forever. I hope Sandy and Wayne and the others are doing well. They deserve the best.

[cosmosluckycharms]

Bug like angel

You're here, that's the thing

You woke up the next day.

You were on the fancy velvet family couch you were never allowed on.

The couch was where every movie night, every game night, and every family hangout would happen.

The same ones you'd never be invited to.

You looked up to see Bruce and Miguel sitting in the pristine, white dining room arguing over something.

They lowkey looked like a divorced couple fighting over the ustody of their child.

You let out a giggle at that thought.

You got up and tried to stabilize yourself, still healing from the stab wound from yesterday.

You had a runny nose and a slight sore throat from the rain yesterday.

You hated your spidey luck sometimes.

As you got closer to Miguel and Bruce, you could make out some of their argument.

"She's staying with us, it's for the best," Bruce said, crossing his arms.

"Since when do you decide what's good for her?" Miguel argued, standing up from the seat he was sitting on.

"I am her father. I decide what's best for her," Bruce said, still keeping a straight face.

"you haven't been a father to her at all." Bruce flinched slightly at Miguel's words.

Miguel continued, "You were never her father. You were nothing but a sperm donor." Miguel put his hand on his hips, his bold red eyes piercing into Bruce's blue ones.

"When were you when she needed you? Where were you on her birthday? Where were you at her performances and concerts? You don't know anything about her." Miguel slammed the table in front of him, and Bruce's neutral facade faltered.

"I am still her father. we are blood." Bruce raised his voice.

"The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb."

Miguel and Bruce were now full-on arguing.

A full-on screaming match.

You decided to intervene, you just wanted to go home.

"What's going on?" They both couldn't hear you, and you saw Miguel about to flip the expensive dining room table.

You weren't against him breaking anything Bruce owned, but that table cost way more than Miguel could afford.

You ran up to him "Hold on a minute, please won't you listen?"

They both stopped to look at you.

Bruce spoke up "Are you doing better now, sweetie?" You cringed at the nickname he gave you.

"I'm fine. What's going on?"

There was a tense silence for a moment.

"C'mon, spit it out. I wanna go home." You put your hands on your hips, copying Miguel's stance

"You're going to stay with us," Bruce said, his piercing blue eyes glaring at Miguel.

"What?! You can't do that! Dad, tell him he can't do that!" you pulled on Miguel's sleeve like a tall child

Miguel looked and you and looked away guiltily.

"Dad? What's going on? Tell him he can't force me to stay!" You were tearing up.

You didn't want to stay.

You didn't want to be back where everything went wrong.

You didn't want to see everyone play happy family while you sat in a corner sobbing.

"I'm sorry, but you're 16 and can't legally stay with me. I'm so sorry, arañanita." you tried to suppress your tears, only for them to all spill out when he hugged you.

You felt like a child.

"This isn't fair." your lip slightly trembled.

Bruce put a hand on your shoulder which made you flinch and push his hand away.

"Don't touch me." you shrunk into Miguel's arm more.

You hated being here. You just wanted to go home.

"Can't we agree on something else? Like maybe one week each person, or something?" you tried to reason

Bruce raised an eyebrow "What do you mean?"

"I mean like, one week with with Miggy and another with you. Wouldn't that be easier?"

Miguel was about to agree with you when Bruce interrupted "No."

"Why not? Everyone would be happy!" You tried to reason

"Because I'm your father and that's final."

You rolled your eyes at that.

"What?! That's so not fair!"

"life isn't fair." Bruce started practically pushing Miguel out the door.

You started clinging onto Miguel by his leg, you didn't want him to leave.

It took your father and your brothers to separate you and Miguel.As soon as Miguel left, you

ignored your family's offerings to hang out with them.

You were in your room, still sulking about what happened.

You were texting your friends everything.

You heard a knock at the door and tried to ignore it.

You weren't in the mood to talk to any of them.

After a couple of minutes of knocking, Bruce got impatient and let himself in."Why didn't you open the door?"

"I didn't feel like getting up." You kept texting your friends, not even looking at him.

He took a seat on the edge of your bed. "Look, since you're already here, why not go out? We could go to that one, uh, museum you wanted to go to a while ago." You glared at him.

"I asked to go there years ago. My friends already took me there."

"Oh, is there any other place you'd like to go? or anything you'd like to do?"

"I want you to go away. I'm sick and you just pulled me away from my friends." You kept scrolling on your phone

Bruce sighed and left your room.

Next to annoy you was Dick.

You were in the kitchen trying to get a snack when you heard his agitating, grating voice.

"Hey, baby bird!" He was going to ruffle your hair, but you swiftly avoided it due to your spidey senses.

"Don't call me that." You continued to look for your favorite snack.

"Why not?" he playfully pouted

You started giving up hope on finding the snack, it wasn't anywhere! "Because I said so."

He saw you were struggling to find something. "What are you looking for?"

"Nunya." you crossed your arms and started looking in the fridge.

"look, if you're hungry, we can go to that one restaurant you wanted to go to! How does that sound?" he smiled.

"I asked for that years ago. I already went there with Miguel anyway." You walked away into your room not caring how dick was slightly frowning.

You were in your room fixing your belongings.

If you're going to be forced to live here up till you're 18, you might as well make everything look nice.

While you were organizing your closet, your spidey senses went off.

You turned around to see it was warning you about the door, and suddenly Jason barged in.

"Get ready, I'm gonna teach you how to ride a motorcycle."

"No thanks, Jess already taught me." You continued to fold the clothes

"Who's Jess?" Jason raised an eyebrow

"A friend. Look, can you just leave me alone? I want some alone time."

"I'm your older brother, you can't kick me out of your room." He crossed his arms.

"Except I can. Get out." You started pushing him out of your room, your strength surprising him.

Tim was in his room when he remembered about that one time you asked him if he could fix your computer.

You accidentally gave it a virus downloading Sims mods, and it was tweaking.

Tim was the most tech-savvy person you knew, so you asked him.

Unfortunately for you, he was working on a tiring case.

He was in a bad mood and half-asleep, so it wasn't a surprise when he yelled at you to go away.

Sure, it had been 2 years since then, but he still felt bad.

He made his way to your room, noticing how separated it was from the others.

When he got to your room and opened your door (you seriously need to get a lock) he saw you were face timing one of your friends and laughing.

He cleared his throat and your smile fell.

"I'll call you back later, bye Pavi!" you hung up and looked at Tim "What do you want?"

He smirked "Wow, so hostile. Do you still need me to fix your computer? I have time now.

"You rolled your eyes. "it's fine now, peni fixed it for me."

"Are you sure? I could probably add an upgrade or two, or maybe get you a new one?" He put his hand on his neck

"Yes I'm sure, you can leave now." You shooed him away with your hands and started calling Pavitr again.

Tim scoffed and walked away.

Last but not least, Damian.

He was always a headache.

Ever since you were younger, it's like he was out to get you.

He wouldn't ignore you or push you away like the others, instead, he would threaten and berate you.

No matter how much you tried, he'd always go out of his way to push you around.

You learned to stay out of his way.

You assumed he would still hate you, so you continued to avoid him.

It was surprising when he walked up to your room and demanded you to watch him train.

Not wanting to get stabbed by him, you begrudgingly agreed.

You were being escorted into the training room and saw a chance to practice your moves.

While he wasn't looking, you snuck away to practice your tricks.

It was the perfect place to do it as well, huge gymnastics area, rock climbing walls, and hurdles.

You were having the time of your life!

After around 10 minutes you noticed Damian looking for you, with Dick helping him.

You sighed and continued practicing.

Your way of swinging and moving was Heavily inspired by Gwen and Pavitr's, all the spider kids trained together so it wasn't much of a surprise.

After training for a couple more minutes, you noticed Dick and Damian had found you.

Dick was surprised you knew how to be that flexible and have a lot of movement and personality in your tricks.

As soon as you sat down to take a water break, Dick and Damian ran up to you.

"Where did you learn how to move like that? did you do gymnastics?" Dick sat down next to you, only for you to scoot away.

"No. I learned from Pavi." You took another sip of your water

"Was he the one who came to the manor last year? The punk?" He took a sip of his water

"No, that's Hobie." you got up and walked away, ignoring Dicks other questions.

Dick just sighed in defeat and watched as Damian ran after you.

Damian would not leave you alone.

The whole way to your room, he was complaining and berating you.You tried slamming your door in his face, but he fought back.

Suddenly you were trying to push him out of your room like the others and he pushed a bag of yours onto the floor.

After a couple of minutes of you both tumbling around, he finally left.

You let out a sigh of relief and went to pick up the bag.

Once you picked it up you noticed it felt a slight bit heavier, less empty.

You grabbed what was making it so heavy and noticed it was a watch.

The watch you needed to move universes.

Miguel must've snuck it in there while dropping you off.

You put it on, and right as you were about to go back to Miguel's universe, your spidey senses went off yet again.

You quickly turned off the watch and pretended you were playing on your phone again.

This time it was Alfred.

You assumed he was going to scold you for fighting Damian yet again.

You prepared yourself only to be met with something you didn't expect.

"The others are expecting your presence in the theater room."

Movie nights.

The same movie nights you longed to be a part of years ago.

This time, you didn't want to be part of it.

"No thanks, I'm busy." You continued to scroll on your phone.

"You must've misheard me. They're requiring your presence." Alfred walked away before you could argue.

You sighed and put on some slippers.

This was gonna be a long two years.

hi ik rhis chapter is sloppy and rushes BUT THIS TIME I ACTUALLY HAVE EN EXCUSE

i typed all od this at a wedding lmfao

yeah rheyre mareying the love of their life but im updating a fic so whos really winning

anyway

taglist(please lmk if i forgot you!): @bath1lda @mariadvorak @coralaura @tsxukikami @hjgdhghoe @coffeeaddictxd @cxcilla @kaitense1 @star-girl-interlud3 @sukaretto-n @welpthisisboring @itsberrydreemurstuff @lovebug-apple @crazycaoticsimp @bellethesleepypotato @blackhood1229 @jsprien213 @sirenetheblogger @awawage @holybatflapexpert @vanessa-boo @ryuushou @whiskeygirl7 @seemeee3 @inojinieeee @oliviaewl @djpuppy-kittens @w31rd3rg1rl @br33zy-blizzardz @eyeless-kun @strangelymid @twismare @cat-lover-over-9000 @jaemindontberude @galaxypurplerose @paastaboi @senhoritaapple @whiskeygirl7 @chezze-its

[astars-things]

Secrets revealed on Twitch

Lando Norris x Reader

Lando wasn’t even thinking when he said it.

He had been casually chatting with his Twitch chat, laughing as he played a round of iRacing, completely immersed in the game. His focus was sharp, his reactions quick, but then, in a moment of pure instinct, he said the words that changed everything.

“No, my girlfriend thinks that’s stupid too.”

The chat froze.

Lando didn’t notice at first, still focused on the track. But then, out of the corner of his eye, the messages started flooding in.

GIRLFRIEND??? WHO?? HE HAS A GF?? EXPLAIN YOURSELF, NORRIS.

He blinked, his hands tightening on the wheel as realization dawned. His heart stuttered. Oh, crap. He hadn’t meant to let that slip. It had been months of keeping things private, of soft moments away from the cameras, of quiet mornings and late-night phone calls. And now, in the middle of a stupid Twitch stream, he had blown it.

Quickly, he grabbed his phone with one hand, barely glancing at chat as he fired off a message.

Lando: Sooo I might have just accidentally told the entire internet I have a girlfriend. Lando: And now they’re kind of freaking out. Lando: And now they want to meet you. Lando: Want to come say hi?

You stared at your phone, biting your lip as you read his messages. Part of you wanted to tease him for slipping up, but the thought of actually going on stream made you nervous. You weren’t a public person—not in the way he was, at least.

But then another message popped up.

Lando: They’re literally begging. Like, I can hear them screaming through the screen.

You rolled your eyes fondly before sending back a simple, Give me five minutes.

When you finally walked into his gaming room, he was still looking at the chat, a sheepish grin on his face. “Guys, I don’t know if she’s gonna—oh, wait. Here she is.”

He turned to you, his expression instantly softening. “Hi.”

You smiled, stepping into the frame as he leaned back in his chair, looking up at you with that adoring gaze he always had when you were around. The chat exploded.

SHE’S REAL. OMG SHE’S SO PRETTY. WE LOVE HER ALREADY. Lando, blink twice if she’s holding you hostage.

You laughed, shaking your head as Lando pulled you closer, an arm wrapping around your waist. “So, this is the chat that’s been harassing you?” you teased, glancing at the flood of messages.

Lando groaned dramatically. “Yes. They’re relentless.”

You leaned into the mic. “Hi, chat. Be nice to him.”

NEVER. WE BULLY WITH LOVE. SHE GETS IT.

Lando rolled his eyes playfully before looking up at you again. “They’ve been asking questions.”

“Oh?” You raised a brow. “Like what?”

“Like how we met, how long we’ve been together, and whether or not I’m being forced into this relationship against my will,” he said, smirking.

You grinned. “I mean, should I let them believe that?”

Chat went wild.

YES. CONFIRM IT. LANDA PRISONER ERA. FREE HIM.

Lando groaned, dropping his head against your stomach, making you giggle as you ran your fingers through his messy curls. “Great. Now they’re never gonna let this go.”

You leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head. “You’ll survive.”

He tilted his head up, eyes crinkling with warmth as he looked at you. “I always do when you’re around.”

Chat collectively lost their minds.

GET A ROOM. IM THROWING UP. ACTUAL RELATIONSHIP GOALS.

Lando just smiled, pulling you down onto his lap. “Well, chat, there you have it. My not-so-secret-anymore girlfriend.”

You laughed, relaxing into him. “Guess the secret’s out.”

And honestly? It wasn’t so bad.

[mywritersmind]

LIKE A DREAM - KA12

summary : A day full of fun and avoidance ends with kimi walking you home. Full of teasing and wanting to cross the one line your dad and his boss has set for you two.

listen up : swearing! use of y/n! kissing!

kimiantonelli x totowolff!daughter

words : 2022

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Holy fuck!” She laughs out loud, out of breath and running her hands through her hair as we walk down the sidewalk, “I actually thought he was going to kill you!”

I shake my head, “That was not funny, Wolff! I thought he was going to kill me too!” I hold back a laugh, genuinely thanking god that some little shop owner was too slow to chase me down with a broom.

She bites her bottom lip, slowing her step so she’s next to me, “Death by broom, would have been sad.”

I’m walking her home after a day of fucking about and skipping training. When I told her I had to train but other than that, I had a chill day, she said, and I quote, “Chill and Training should not be in the same sentence.”

So she dragged me around my own city, showing me places I would have never guessed could be so fun. Everything is fun with her.

I sigh, “What would you tell everyone? That you left me to die because while screaming your head off!?”

She giggles, “No! I would have told everyone that I tried to fight the man but I'm just a girl.” I roll my eyes at my ultra feminist friend.

I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if they believed her. She’s a scary good actress.

“Like you would have been any different!” She pushes my side a bit, “Screaming like a girl while you ran…”

I scoff and start walking backwards so her eyes are on me, “I would have fought for you like a man!”

“Like a man with a girly scream.” She mumbles, pushing past me as my jaw drops. I can hear her laugh as she walks farther ahead, I run to catch up.

“You’re evil.”

She gasps dramatically before her face morphs into a smile, shrugging and calm now, she says, “Yeah I know. Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”

The truth is, I do like it. I like how she fucks with me, except when she somehow drags me into her shit which is dealt with by her father, who happens to be my boss.

“Your dad home?” I ask, nearing her house now.

“Why, you scared?”

Fuck yes. “No. Maybe I want to inform him that his underage daughter flirts with just about every man we come across.”

“Don’t act so high and mighty! You’re only a couple months older than me.” She sticks her chin up, “And you liked the free drinks enough.” She eyes my hand, which is wrapped around an open champagne bottle.

No matter how much I like the drinks, I will never like some guy sending them to her. Especially when the guys are definitely over 25.

“I like the drinks, not the guys.” She eyes me when I say this, grabbing the bottle and bringing it to her lips.

“Protective, much?”

I shrug, grabbing the bottle from her, “Maybe a bit.” I take a swig, never moving my eyes away from her. She’s fucking stunning. “Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

She laughs, “What?”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t know.” She definitely does, “I dump all of them before it can get too far.”

“And you’ve never- ever, been broken up with?”

She shakes her head, “You know the guys i’ve dated, they all suck but i’m pretty sure all hated me.”

“So why’d they stay with you? I mean, it’s definitely not because you give everything to them. You barely talked to half!”

She’s grinning, something familiar and mischievous in her eye. She takes the bottle from me, spinning around, “Yeah but I kiss like a dream.”

Her answer is not what I expected and suddenly I'm thankful for the darkness so she can’t see my reddened cheeks. “Right.”

“So why don’t you have a girlfriend, Antonelli?” She takes another drink, turning a street corner.

“Maybe I don’t want one.”

She shakes her head, “No… that’s not it.” God i’m so fucked. “Tell me the real reason.”

“I’m serious.” I’m not. “Racing is a lot, I need to focus.”

“Cause a girlfriend would be too demanding.” She stands in front of me, walking slowly backwards. Her eyes are dark and completely focused on me.

“Cause a girlfriend would be too distracting.” Like right now, I'm pretty sure we missed a turn but neither of us noticed.

But she’s not my girlfriend. Just a girl who took me away from all my responsibilities for a whole day, a whole day of me staring at her and being totally and utterly distracted.

Her eyes narrow, probably seeing right through me like she always does. She gives the subject up, turning back onto the right street and ending up next to me again, this time in silence.

I don’t know if she notices, but every step she takes, her arm brushes mine.

The second I see her house, my heart drops. I don’t want to leave her, especially if I don’t know when I'm going to see her again.

“Are you coming to Australia?” Sometimes she travels with her dad, maybe I'll get lucky.

“Nope.” Of course, this is good for me, I just said how distracting she is! But fuck I want her there. “My dad won’t let me go to any races until I finish school.”

Toto Wolff I curse you.

“Ah shit…” I say, “Shame.” I watch her push open the gate, looking back at me like an angel.

“Yeah? You want me there?” Her tone is teasing, but I know she’s hoping I say yes.

“Did pretty well in the last race you came to.” She watched my F2 race a while back, I won. “Maybe you’re lucky.”

“Kimi Antonelli’s good luck charm… Got a nice ring to it.” She walks up the steps, I follow as slowly as possible. “You’d probably be able to convince my dad, he loves you.”

I smile, “If I told him I thought you were my ‘Good Luck Charm’ he’d probably kick me off the team.” Toto has always explicitly said to stay away from his precious daughter. I hate following rules.

She giggles, now on the front porch leaning against the railing and making me sigh in relief that she doesn’t want to go yet.

I stand across from her, my hands in my pockets as my eyes roam across her face that’s half shaded from the porch light. “I expect you to stir some shit up this year.”

“You’re praying on my downfall.” I step closer.

She looks up at me, “Never, Drea…”

I groan at the nickname, “Do not call me that.”

“What would you like me to call you?” She raises a brow, teasing me.

“My name?”

“I prefer wonder boy.” She says it with such a straight face that I can’t help but laugh. She smiles, pleased that she made me crack.

“I had a really good time today.” I say softly, not missing her lip catch on her tooth.

“Not too annoyed with my flirting?”

I shake my head, “I never said that… Maybe just tone it down a bit.”

“Like how?”

“Flirt with someone else.” It just comes out, I regret it immediately.

Her face softens, “Like who?”

I shrug, “Like me.”

The corner of her mouth quirks up, “I do flirt with you.”

This is a bad idea, I can feel it.

But I don’t stop.

“Not like you do with them…”

“Because I flirt with everyone else as a joke. It’s performative, love.” That nickname, however, I could get used to.

“Why?” I ask, “Why do you feel the need to?”

“Maybe because someone is too much of a pussy to flirt back.” Fuck my actual life.

“Or I just don’t want to lose my job.”

She rolls her eyes, genuinely annoyed, “Don’t pull that shit. Carry on lying to yourself with the ‘distracting’ thing.”

“You are fucking distracting, Wolff. Like out of this world distracting.” I wish she knew that the stares she gets, the drinks she receives, isn’t because she’s Toto Wolff's daughter.

She looks away, her nose in the air, “Not my fault you’re so attracted to me you can’t focus on simple tasks.”

This girl is going to kill me. And she loves it.

I let out a breathy laugh, resting my hands on either side of her, “You drive me insane.”

“Oh so you can do your job when you’re around me!” She jokes so easily with her ‘drive’ bit.

I shake my head, “I can’t stand you.”

Her eyes meet mine again, our faces centimeters apart, “Try again.” Her voice is soft, strong.

“I can’t stand not having you.” It’s practically a whisper.

She doesn’t blink, just leans back into the railing with her head held high, “Then have me.”

She’s waiting for me, I realize. She flirts with me, she touches me, she teases me, she does just about everything first, before me. Now, she’s making me start it.

She’s supposed to be a bad idea. But right now, I’m pretty sure she is the best idea ever.

I lean down slowly, her breath soft against me. When she doesn’t pull back and I fully understand that i’m not dreaming, I kiss her.

It’s soft at first, testing almost. But then her hand finds the back of my neck and all I can feel is her.

I grip her waist like there’s nothing else in the world, finding her belt loop to pull her in closer as her tongue slips into my mouth.

Both of our breaths quicken, her skin hot as I slip my hand under the hem of her shirt, “Drea…” She whispers, never breaking the kiss.

“Try again.” I mumble.

“Kimi.” I groan at the way she says my name. I never want her to stop.

I nod into the kiss, pushing her into the railing harder as her fingers tighten in my hair. Her lips feel so familiar, I don’t know how I ever lived without them.

“You kiss like a dream.” I say against her which makes her laugh, tilting her head back slightly as I take a breath.

My lips off hers doesn’t last long, only getting rougher when we start again. She tastes like strawberry lipgloss and chocolate gelato, I want it tattooed on me.

The second her hand makes its way down my chest and around my side, moments away from her touch on my bare skin, goosebumps ready to go, something interrupts us.

“What the fuck.” I don’t think I've ever moved so fast in my life. The familiar voice makes me physically jump, the same as Y/n.

I understand now that the ‘interruption’ was the front door opening and my team principal coming to see who was lurking on his porch.

I run my hand over my mouth, looking out at their front garden and wondering if I'm about to die.

Y/n is facing her dad, her eyes wide and lips slightly swollen. I can’t help but smile because I did that. I’m immediately sobered by his voice again. “Antonelli.”

Wow I like how she says it so much more.

I clear my throat and throw my hair up slightly, nor daring to turn around just yet. “Yep.”

“Y/n.” He says gruffly, his accent even thicker when angry, “Inside.”

I turn around now, watching her cringe and walk inside slowly. I see Susie in the hallway, clearly not understanding what’s going on, and smiling at me. “Kimi! Thanks for walking her home.”

Toto is staring me down as if I’d just- well… as if I'd just kissed his daughter. I’m about to respond to her but Toto shakes his head sharply, “Out.”

I give Y/n one more glance, not missing the slight smirk on her face. Fuck neither of us can be serious for two second. I hurry down the steps, only looking back when I hear the door shut and not stopping my quick feet until I get to my car.

I have one text. It’s from Y/n.

You kiss like a dream too.

[xoxo-lixie]

Tipsy and Yours ᝰ.ᐟ

Paring- Chan x Reader

Summary-Tipsy and giggly, Chan clings to Y/N, getting shy as friends tease him, but her affection keeps him at ease.

It was a cool Friday night, the kind of evening that made you want to curl up with a blanket and a warm drink. But instead, Y/N found herself at a lively gathering at Chan’s apartment, surrounded by his closest friends. The music was upbeat, laughter filled the air, and the faint clink of glasses punctuated the conversation. Chan had been working hard lately, and his friends insisted he unwind for once. So here they were, enjoying a rare night off.

Y/N was perched on the couch, a glass of soda in her hand as she watched Chan across the room. He was laughing at something Seungmin said, his dimpled smile brighter than the string lights strung up on the walls. He looked happy, carefree, and… a little tipsy. It wasn’t often Chan drank, but tonight his friends had convinced him to let loose.

As the night wore on, Y/N noticed the change in him. His laughter grew louder, his movements looser. By the time he stumbled over to her, giggling over something that didn’t even make sense, she knew he was drunk.

“Y/N,” he slurred, plopping down beside her with a dopey grin. “You’re so pretty. Did you know that?”

Y/N chuckled, her cheeks heating up. “You’ve told me, Chan. A few times tonight, actually.”

“Well, it’s true,” he said, leaning closer. His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, though it was loud enough for the others to hear. “You’re the prettiest person in the whole room.”

From across the room, Felix and Hyunjin exchanged amused glances. “Uh-oh, looks like Chan’s in his clingy phase,” Hyunjin teased, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Chan blinked at them, his ears turning red. “I am not clingy,” he mumbled, though the effect was ruined when he wrapped his arms around Y/N and buried his face in her shoulder.

“Oh, definitely not clingy,” Felix quipped, his grin widening. “Completely independent, right?”

“Leave him alone,” Y/N said, laughing softly as she stroked Chan’s back. “He’s harmless.”

Chan pulled back just enough to look at her, his lower lip jutting out in a pout. “They’re teasing me,” he said, his voice filled with mock betrayal. “Make them stop.”

“You’re so cute when you’re like this,” Y/N said, pressing a kiss to his forehead. She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or his natural warmth, but he felt like a human heater.

“Cuuute?” Jeongin echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Did you hear that, guys? Chan’s officially cute.”

“Stop,” Chan groaned, hiding his face in Y/N’s neck. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“Embarrassing you?” Felix laughed. “Mate, you’re the one glued to Y/N like a koala.”

“Am not,” Chan mumbled, though he made no effort to move away. If anything, his grip tightened. “She’s comfy.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, the sound soft and warm. “Come on, let’s move somewhere quieter,” she said, gently nudging him. “You’re gonna fall asleep on me at this rate.”

He nodded eagerly and stood, wobbling slightly. Without a second thought, he grabbed her hand and led her to the corner of the room where a large armchair sat unoccupied. Before she could sit, he pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Chan!” Y/N exclaimed, half-laughing, half-surprised. “What are you doing?”

“Keeping you close,” he said simply, his voice muffled as he pressed his face into her shoulder. “You’re mine.”

The room erupted into laughter, the guys absolutely losing it at Chan’s unabashed clinginess.

“Wow, he’s gone,” Seungmin said, shaking his head with an incredulous smile. “I’ve never seen him like this before.”

“Yeah, drunk Chan is… something else,” Hyunjin agreed, snapping a picture with his phone. “For the memories.”

Chan groaned again, peeking out just enough to glare at Hyunjin. “Delete that.”

“Not a chance.”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully and ran her fingers through Chan’s hair, calming him down. “Ignore them. They’re just jealous because they don’t have someone to take care of them like I do.”

That shut them up quickly, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a little smug. Chan, meanwhile, melted under her touch, the tension leaving his body as he relaxed completely.

“Love you,” he murmured sleepily, his words slurring together.

“I love you too,” Y/N replied softly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. She could feel the warmth of his smile against her shoulder.

The night continued around them, but for Y/N and Chan, it felt like they were in their own little bubble. Drunk or not, he was hers, and she wouldn’t trade moments like this for anything.

[p0ckykiss]

just a few kisses - jay

summary -> it turns out jay is an affectionate drunk (and a bit cheesy)

-> female reader x jay, fluff, established relationship, jay is obsessed with y/n's ass, suggestive, mentions of sexual activity

“can’t we leave already?” your friend complained trying to stretch her aching back. you and your friends (with your boyfriend jay) were at the new year’s after party, your friend group was huddled into a corner, too exhausted to mingle with the other guests.

“just half an hour more,” you tried to comfort your friend, while your eyes scanned the crowd. you hadn’t seen jay in a while, and you were starting to grow restless.

suddenly you felt a body come in contact with your back and a hot breath fanning over your neck. from the way your friend was jokingly rolling her eyes and turning her head away, you guessed the person behind you had to be jay. you were about to turn around to confirm this when jay opened his mouth.

“your ass looks so hot in this dress baby?” you spluttered and almost choked on the champagne you had been sipping for the past fifteen minutes. you coughed a few times before whipping around to stare at your boyfriend, scandalized. jay giggled at the look on your face and wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling you in.

“how much have you had to drink?” you questioned after getting over your initial shock. this was a side of jay you rarely got to see in public. sure, he was the cuddly when you were alone at your apartment, but whenever you were out and about, the pda was kept to the minimum.

“not that much, actually,” jay chuckled before surprising you even further and starting to pepper your face with soft kisses. a giggle bubbled up from between your lips.

“baby, there are people here!” you laughed and tried to push his face away. it took a few tries but eventually jay surrendered and settled for just looking at you, caressing your neck.

“well,” you mused after a while of just standing there with a small smile on your lips, tracing patterns onto jay's chest, “how are you feeling right now?”

jay slowly slided his hands down your backside, settling them on your ass. you looked up at him and raised your eyebrows.

“pretty amazing,” jay smirked and gave your ass a light squeeze. you snorted at that and slapped jay lightly on his arm. jay's smirk only widened as he leaned in closer to your ear.

“y/n,” he whispered, “i wanna eat you out.”

a shiver ran through you as you closed your eyes and bit your lip. you wouldn’t deny that the offer was very tempting, especially because lately your work schedules had been so hectic you used every bit of free time to just catch up on sleep, but nothing would change the fact that you were in public and leaving the party soon.

“jay, you know we can’t.”

jay whined and went back to nosing your jawline, stopping occasionally to press a small kiss to your face. you exhaled slowly, gathering all your willpower to push jay gently away from you. jay gave in and pulled his face away but tightened his grip around your waist.

“i didn’t even get my new year’s kiss yet, can i at least get that,” jay started pouting and tried to emphasize his unhappiness by stomping his foot, which only resulted in him losing his balance and almost falling and pulling you with him. you couldn’t help but grin at the sight. you glanced quickly at your friends over jay's shoulder. no one was paying you any attention.

“alright, just come with me”, you said in a hushed tone, grabbing jay's wrist from behind your back and starting to lead him through the crowds. jay didn’t question you, only followed you pliantly for a few minutes before you reached a secluded corridor. you quickly scanned your surroundings before turning to jay.

“just a few kisses, okay? we don’t have much time, we’re leaving soon,” you reminded jay while pulling him closer from the collar of his shirt. a sly smirk overtook jay's face.

“sure, baby,” he said before pressing you into the nearest wall. it became quite obvious to you in the next seconds that this was not about to be just a few kisses.

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Could I request where pierre and Kika forget their daughters school performance so while every other kid is going to their parents the daughter is just stood their waiting to the where the teacher had to call them and the daughter ignores them until they get home. I know it’s long sorry but if you could do it that would be great ❤️

Forgotten in the rain

The rain had started in a soft drizzle but quickly became a steady pour that drummed against the school’s windows. Inside the assembly hall, the walls echoed with the excited chatter of children and the proud applause of parents. Flashbulbs popped every few seconds as moms and dads documented every smile, every wave, every bow.

Except for one little girl who stood near the back of the room.

Yn clutched her damp paper certificate, its corners curling slightly. She had performed a poem about the seasons—her voice clear, her hands animated. Her teacher, Miss Carter, had told her she’d done wonderfully. The kind of performance that deserved a bouquet, a warm hug, a proud parent grinning from ear to ear. But instead, she stood alone, eyes scanning every adult that walked in, every couple that greeted their child with open arms.

Her dress was a soft pastel pink, chosen by her mother, Kika, two days ago. Her curly brown hair was pulled into two neat braids, and her small boots were now soaked at the soles from pacing near the entrance.

She looked at the clock again.

7:12 PM.

Miss Carter finally noticed the way Yn’s smile had faded. The teacher walked over with a kind smile, kneeling beside her.

"Sweetheart, are you still waiting for someone?"

Yn nodded silently. Her eyes were bright, but her jaw was set.

Miss Carter’s heart ached. "Do you want to come wait in my classroom while I call your parents?"

"Okay," Yn whispered.

---

Pierre glanced at his phone as he sank deeper into the couch, his legs stretched over the coffee table. "Did we ever finish that bottle of wine from last week?"

"The red one? Yeah, I think I did on Tuesday," Kika replied from the kitchen, reaching for a handful of olives.

Pierre sighed dramatically. "We’re such adults. Drinking wine on a Tuesday night."

Kika chuckled, walking into the living room. "What time is it?"

"Just past seven. Why?"

She froze.

Pierre noticed it immediately. "What?"

"Pierre."

"What?"

"Oh my god, Yn’s school performance."

He shot up. "Shit."

She grabbed her phone, nearly fumbling it in her panic. Two missed calls. One voicemail.

"It’s Miss Carter," she said, already pressing play.

Pierre ran a hand through his hair, groaning. "We’re the worst parents."

The message played:

"Hi, this is Miss Carter from Willowbrook Primary. I just wanted to check in—it’s a little past seven, and Yn is still here. She had such a wonderful performance tonight, but it seems no one came to pick her up. I’ll keep her in my classroom until you arrive. Please give me a call back."

Kika was already pulling on her coat. "Let’s go."

---

The ride to the school was painfully silent. Pierre kept glancing at the clock, tapping the steering wheel. Kika sat with her arms crossed, her foot bouncing with guilt.

They found Miss Carter standing by the school doors, holding an umbrella over Yn.

Yn wasn’t crying. She wasn’t pouting. She wasn’t doing anything. She simply stood there, looking small and still, like a little statue in a rainstorm.

When she saw them, her face didn’t light up.

Pierre jumped out first. "Baby, I’m so sorry—"

She didn’t move toward him.

Kika tried. "Yn, we—"

But the child just turned back to Miss Carter. "Thank you for waiting with me."

Miss Carter smiled gently. "You were very brave, sweetheart. I’m proud of you."

Pierre stepped forward, his voice barely above a whisper. "Can we take you home now, bébé?"

Yn gave a tiny nod and walked toward the car without saying another word.

---

The drive home was colder than the rain outside. Kika turned to speak a few times but couldn’t find the right words. Pierre tried to hold Yn’s hand, but she pulled it away slowly, not harshly, but pointedly.

Once they arrived home, Yn unbuckled her seatbelt herself, climbed out, and walked straight into the house.

Pierre and Kika followed.

"Yn, baby, please, talk to us," Kika pleaded, dropping her keys on the counter.

Yn headed straight for her room.

"Sweetheart," Pierre tried, his voice cracking.

No response. She closed her door behind her with a quiet finality.

Kika sat on the couch, hands covering her face. "I feel like I just broke her heart."

Pierre sat beside her, shoulders slumped. "We really messed up."

"It wasn’t just a show, Pierre. She told us every day this week. She made invitations. She left them on the fridge."

He closed his eyes. "And we just... forgot."

They didn’t sleep much that night.

---

The next morning, Pierre was already in the kitchen by 6:30, trying to make pancakes the way Yn liked them—thin, buttery, with a swirl of strawberry syrup in a heart shape. Kika was chopping fruit, glancing at the hallway every few minutes.

At 7:10, the door creaked open.

Yn walked in, dressed in her school uniform, backpack already on. She looked fresh and neat, as if nothing had happened.

"Good morning," Kika tried, voice careful.

"Hi," Yn replied without looking at them. She opened the fridge, grabbed her lunchbox, and set it in her bag.

"We made you pancakes," Pierre offered.

"I’m not hungry."

The rejection hit harder than expected.

"Yn," Kika tried again, kneeling down, "we are so, so sorry. There’s no excuse. We forgot something really important, and you didn’t deserve that."

Yn met her eyes. "You didn’t come. Everyone else had someone. Even Noah’s dad came, and he works at the hospital."

Pierre approached slowly. "We know. And we feel awful."

"You always say I’m the most important thing," she whispered. "But you forgot me."

Kika’s eyes filled with tears. "You are the most important thing, baby girl. We just—our brains were stupid. We got busy, and we didn’t write it down, and that’s not your fault. It’s ours."

Pierre knelt beside her. "We hurt your feelings. And we’re not asking you to forgive us today. But we want you to know we’re sorry. And we’re going to do better."

Yn looked at both of them, her lips trembling.

"I stood in the rain by myself," she murmured.

"I know, mon coeur. I know," Pierre said, hugging her gently. "And it breaks me."

Finally, Yn leaned into him.

Kika joined the embrace, holding them both tightly. "We love you more than anything."

"Even more than the red wine?" Yn asked, voice muffled in Pierre’s chest.

Pierre laughed through a sniffle. "A thousand times more."

"Even more than your phone, Mama?"

Kika smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "So much more. You’re my whole heart."

Yn finally smiled.

"Can I still have pancakes?"

Pierre stood. "Absolutely. Even if we’re late to school, pancakes are happening."

As they sat together at the table, the storm from the night before seemed to pass, replaced by the simple warmth of shared forgiveness, strawberry syrup, and a heart-shaped apology made of batter.

And from that day on, every calendar in their house—paper, digital, and even the whiteboard on the fridge—had one line written across the top:

"Yn comes first. Always."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-🤍🦢

[kaxserlvr]

It was supposed to be a normal date. Just dinner, some casual conversation, maybe a walk through the park afterward. That’s all you and Kaiser had planned.

But a little girl, no more than five or six, standing in the middle of the park with a lost look on her face. Her tiny hands clutched a teddy bear, her eyes wide and teary.

You immediately crouched down to her level, your voice soft. “Hey, sweetie, are you okay?”

She sniffled, shaking her head. “I lost my mommy.”

Kaiser was standing beside you , arms crossed, looking annoyed. “We can’t just babysit some kid. We’re on a date.”

You gave him a side eye and ignored him, your focus completely on the girl. “Don’t worry. We’ll help you find your mommy, okay?”

The little girl nodded, wiping her eyes. Kaiser muttered something under his breath, but you didn’t catch it. You just stood up and looked at him. “Come on, let’s help her. It’ll only take a little bit.”

He sighed, looking around. “This is ridiculous.”

But even though he complained, you could tell he wasn’t going to walk away from a kid in need. He just stood there, reluctantly waiting for you to take the lead.

You guys spent hours walking around the park, asking around, checking every corner for any sign of the little girl’s mother. Kaiser was grumpy the entire time, rolling his eyes every time you knelt down to talk to the girl, offering her some comfort or reassurance.

But as the hours passed, something began to change in him.

The little girl clung to him more, her small hand reaching for his every time we walked. At first, he’d stiffen, pulling away, but then, slowly, he started to soften. Every now and then, he’d look down at her with something like gentleness in his eyes, even offering her a small smile when she’d giggle at one of his sarcastic remarks.

“You’re pretty good with her,” you said, glancing up at him as you guys walked down a new path, the girl holding onto his hand now.

Kaiser shot you a look, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m not the baby whisperer, you know.”

But his words lacked the usual bite. You could tell he was starting to enjoy the little girl’s company,how she’d shyly ask him to pick her up when she got tired, how he’d pretend to grumble but do it anyway. He was showing a side of himself you hadn’t seen in a long time, a softer, quieter side.

When you guys finally found her mother, a woman frantically searching the park. The girl ran toward her, and the woman scooped her up in a tight embrace.

“Thank you so much,” the woman said, tears in her eyes. “I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

You smiled, patting the girl on the head. “Glad we could help.”

Kaiser, who had been unusually quiet throughout the whole ordeal, cleared his throat. “Yeah, no problem,” he muttered.

You both waved them off, watching the mother and daughter walk away. The entire experience had been exhausting, but something about it felt… right. Like you could’ve stayed with that little girl forever, and Kaiser might’ve felt the same.

You guys didn’t say much on the way home, the air between you both heavier than it had been before. When you got back to your apartment, you set your things down and flopped onto the couch, tired but content. Kaiser leaned against the doorframe, looking lost in thought.

“You okay?” You asked, watching him closely.

He looked down at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just studied you with an intensity you weren’t used to. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice quieter than usual.

“You really are good with kids,” he said softly.

You smiled. “I like to think so. I’ve always wanted a family.”

Kaiser didn’t respond right away, instead, he walked over to the couch and sat beside you . His arm brushed against yours, and you could feel the tension in his muscles. He looked at you again, his voice low, almost thoughtful.

“I’ve thought I didn’t want kids,” he admitted, his gaze flicking to the floor for a second. “Thought I wasn’t the kind of guy who could handle it.”

You tilted your head, waiting for him to continue.

“But after today…” His fingers grazed the edge of your hand. “I don’t know. Watching you with her… it felt like family.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you turned to face him, eyes wide. “What are you saying?”

Kaiser’s expression shifted, his jaw clenching before he sighed. “I guess I’m saying I was wrong. I could be… I could be good at it. At being a father, I mean.”

The words hung in the air, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. He seemed to be processing it all, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by a rawness that was completely uncharacteristic.

Finally, he looked at you, his face flushed. “It’s just after seeing how you are… I can’t help but think you’d be an amazing mom. And maybe… maybe I could be a good dad, too.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, the weight of his words sinking in.

He suddenly leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. “I don’t know if we’re ready for that yet, but… I’ve been thinking about it.”

You couldn’t help but smile, reaching for his hand. “Maybe not now…but we’ll figure it out together.”

Kaiser stared at you, his face still soft, as if something inside him had shifted. He kissed you softly, and for a moment, it felt like you were already a family—no words needed, just the quiet understanding that whatever happened next, you’d be there for each other.

Always

[callsigns-haze]

Silly little life

Summary: Hangman skips a mission to be by Y/N's side during a tough labor, and together they welcome their baby girl into the world, showing just how strong their bond is.

Warning: Contains intense depictions of labor pain and emotional distress during childbirth.

Word count: 3476 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader

English is not my first language so I apologies for mistakes

Could be read alone or as part two of Little Life

Part 3

The Dagger squad gathered in the briefing room, the usual air of anticipation hanging thick in the space. Maverick stood at the front, arms crossed over his chest as he looked out at the group. Phoenix leaned back in her chair, her legs casually crossed, while Rooster sat forward, elbows on the table, a curious look on his face. Fanboy and Payback were murmuring something under their breath, probably joking about who’d outfly who on the next mission. Coyote sat closest to the front, sharp-eyed and waiting for instructions. Bob, as usual, was quietly observing from the corner, his ever-attentive gaze locked on Maverick.

But one thing was missing—Jake “Hangman” Seresin.

It wasn’t unusual for Jake to cut it close, swaggering in just as the briefing started, flashing his cocky grin as if the world bent to his timing. But today, he was nowhere to be seen.

Maverick cleared his throat, and the chatter in the room died down, all eyes turning toward him. He gave them a measured look, the kind of expression that immediately told the group something was off.

“I’m going to keep this short,” Maverick began, his voice calm but firm. “As you’ve all noticed, Hangman’s not here.”

Phoenix raised an eyebrow, leaning forward in her chair. “Where is he? It’s not like Jake to miss a briefing.”

Rooster shot her a look, his expression sceptical. “Maybe he’s just late. Hangman never misses a chance to show off.”

Maverick shook his head. “He’s not late. He’s not coming.”

A murmur ran through the squad, surprise rippling across their faces. Payback’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Fanboy exchanged a quick glance with Coyote, who looked genuinely confused.

Bob, ever the quiet one, spoke up from the back, his voice soft but clear. “Why not? What happened?”

Maverick let out a slow breath, his gaze steady. “Jake’s not going to be joining us on this mission. He’s dealing with... important family business.” The way he said it left little room for questions. It was vague, deliberate. He wasn’t going to share more than that, and the squad knew it.

Phoenix frowned, her lips pressed into a thin line as she glanced around the room. “Family business?” she echoed. “Jake never mentioned—”

“He didn’t have to,” Maverick interrupted, his tone kind but firm. “Whatever it is, it’s personal, and it’s not your place to pry. The information only belongs to him and his commanders.”

There was a pause, the weight of the unspoken questions hanging in the air. The Dagger squad wasn’t used to Jake missing missions, especially without an explanation. He was Hangman—their most confident, always-present wingman: bit of a douche too. The idea of him having something outside of flying, something that pulled him away, was almost unimaginable.

Rooster scratched at his chin, his brow furrowed. “Is he okay?”

Maverick’s gaze flickered to Rooster, then to the rest of the squad. “He’s fine,” he reassured them, though his voice held a tone that indicated there was more to the story than he was letting on. “He’ll be back when he’s ready. Until then, you focus on the mission at hand.”

Coyote, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke, his deep voice filled with concern. “So we’re just supposed to carry on without him?”

“That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do,” Maverick replied, his voice sharp. “Hangman knows what he’s doing, and he knows when to step back. Right now, his focus is where it needs to be.”

There was a silence in the room, heavy with unanswered questions. The squad exchanged glances, each one processing the news in their own way. Phoenix looked thoughtful, her mind clearly working through what “family business” could mean for someone like Jake, someone who seemed to live for the thrill of flying and the camaraderie of the squad. Rooster’s expression remained puzzled, though a part of him seemed to respect the privacy Maverick was asking for.

Bob, still calm and collected, nodded quietly to himself. “Understood.”

Maverick gave them all a final, serious look. “Jake will be back when he’s ready. Until then, we move forward. Focus on the mission. That’s all.”

With that, Maverick turned and walked out, leaving the room in a quiet, subdued atmosphere. The Dagger squad sat for a moment longer, absorbing the reality that Hangman wouldn’t be flying with them this time.

But none of them could shake the question lingering in their minds: What kind of family business was important enough to pull Jake Seresin away from the skies?

---

Hours. It felt like you’d been in labor for days instead of hours. Every contraction tore through you, leaving you drenched in sweat, your muscles aching from the strain. The hospital room was dimly lit, the rhythmic beeping of the monitor the only constant in the chaos of your body. You tossed and turned on the bed, trying to find some relief, but nothing seemed to help.

Your hair stuck to your forehead, damp and tangled, and every breath felt labored, like your lungs could barely keep up with the demands of your body. Groaning in discomfort, you shifted again, the cold sheets doing nothing to cool your overheated skin. Your hand gripped the side of the bed as another wave of pain hit, your knuckles white from the pressure.

Jake was beside you, his hand on your arm, trying his best to soothe you. His voice was soft, calm, like he was trying to talk you through a flight manoeuvre. “You’re doing amazing, darlin’,” he whispered, his other hand gently brushing the hair from your face. “Breathe through it, okay? We’re almost there.”

But his words didn’t bring you the comfort they usually did. You were too far gone in the discomfort, the contractions relentless, your body feeling like it was fighting against itself. You groaned again, louder this time, unable to hold back the frustration as the pressure built in your lower abdomen.

“Jake, I can’t—” you panted, squeezing your eyes shut as another contraction took hold. The pain was unlike anything you’d ever felt, a deep, all-consuming force that made you want to scream, cry, or both. You could feel Jake’s hand rubbing soothing circles on your shoulder, but it wasn’t enough.

“I know, baby, I know,” he said softly, his voice tight with worry. “You’re so strong. Just keep going, alright?”

You cracked one eye open, looking at him through the haze of exhaustion. His face was lined with concern, his brow furrowed as he held the small plastic cup of ice chips in his hand. You could tell he was trying to be strong for you, but you could also see the fear in his eyes—the helplessness. He hated seeing you like this, and even though he was doing everything he could, there was nothing that could truly ease your pain.

He brought a spoonful of ice chips to your lips, his touch gentle, careful. “Here, darlin’, try to take a little more,” he urged, but you turned your head slightly, too tired, too uncomfortable to want anything in that moment.

“I don’t want the damn ice,” you snapped, immediately feeling bad as soon as the words left your mouth. But you were so frustrated, so overwhelmed with the never-ending discomfort.

Jake didn’t take it personally. He just nodded, setting the cup down on the table beside him before leaning in, his hand still resting on your arm. “I know, sweetheart,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re doing great. I’m right here.”

You groaned again, a deep, guttural sound that came from the pit of your stomach as your body prepared for another contraction. The pressure in your hips and lower back was unbearable, and no amount of repositioning or soothing touches could make it stop.

You tossed your head back against the pillow, panting, desperate for this to end. You could feel the sweat trickling down your neck, your whole body shaking with the effort of holding on. Every time you thought the pain had peaked, it got worse, and your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to ride through it.

Jake’s hand tightened around yours, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles. He was trying to help, you knew that, but nothing he did seemed to touch the raw intensity of what you were feeling. You could hear him murmuring something under his breath—soft encouragements, maybe—or a prayer that this would be over soon.

Your grip on his hand tightened as another wave hit, and you groaned again, your whole body arching off the bed with the sheer force of it. It felt like you were being pulled apart, every muscle in your body straining as you fought to stay in control. But it was slipping. You were slipping.

“Jake,” you panted, your voice breaking. “I—I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

He leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours for a moment. “You’re almost there, baby. I promise. Just a little longer, okay? You’ve got this.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to hold onto his words and let them carry you through. But right now, it felt like there was no end in sight. Just more pain, more pressure, more of this endless battle between your body and the life you were about to bring into the world.

But through the haze of discomfort and exhaustion, you could feel his presence, solid and unwavering, anchoring you to the moment. And somehow, in the middle of all this chaos, that was enough to keep you going.

Even if the ice chips weren’t.

The hours dragged on, and it felt like you were stuck in a whirlwind of pain and exhaustion. Every contraction was a tidal wave, crashing over you, pulling you under. You’d lost track of time, your body trembling with the effort it took just to breathe through each one. Jake hadn’t left your side, his hand gripping yours firmly, as if he could somehow share in the pain.

The nurse's calm voice broke through the fog, "It’s almost time to push, Y/N."

Your breath hitched as another contraction seized you, so powerful that you couldn’t stop the low groan that escaped your lips. Your muscles were tight, your back arching against the bed. Every fibre of your being was screaming for this to end, for the overwhelming pressure to stop.

"Almost time?" you muttered between pants, your voice ragged from hours of groaning and yelling. "Feels like I’ve been at this forever."

Jake leaned closer, his face full of concern, his hand never leaving yours. “You’re almost there, sweetheart. Just a little longer,” he whispered, though you could hear the tension in his voice. You could see the worry etched on his face, the furrow in his brow. He was scared, even if he was doing his best to hide it from you.

The doctor’s voice cut through the haze. "Okay, Y/N, the baby’s almost here. I need you to push when you feel the next contraction, alright?"

You nodded, your chest heaving as you tried to gather every last ounce of strength left in your body. When the next wave hit, you bore down, groaning through clenched teeth as you pushed with everything you had.

"Good! That’s it," the doctor encouraged, her voice steady. "Keep going."

But the pressure—it felt like you were being torn in two. "Oh my God," you groaned, panting. "This baby… this baby has your fat head!"

You heard Jake choke back a laugh, his voice tight with emotion. "Hey now, darlin’, let’s not go blaming me for that," he teased, trying to lighten the mood, but you weren’t in the mood for jokes.

You growled through another push, your face contorting in pain. "I swear, Jake, if this kid has your big-ass head, I’m never letting you forget it!"

He kissed your forehead, his voice soft but laced with a chuckle. “You can blame me all you want, but you’re doing amazing, baby. You’re so strong.”

Another contraction ripped through you, and you squeezed his hand so hard you were sure you’d break it. You could barely focus, barely think beyond the burning pressure and the overwhelming need to push. But even through the haze of agony, the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

"I swear to God, Jake, I’m never doing this again!” you groaned. “Never!"

He nodded, his eyes filled with warmth and concern as he whispered soothingly. "Whatever you say, sweetheart. Whatever you say."

But the next contraction hit, and despite the pain, you pushed harder, feeling the unbearable pressure of the baby moving down. The pain was white-hot, and you let out a strangled cry, your body trembling from the effort.

"Oh my God!" you gasped, tossing your head back against the pillow. "I hate you, Jake! This is your fault!"

Jake squeezed your hand, his voice gentle but steady. "You can hate me all you want, darlin’. You’re doing incredible. Almost there."

You groaned again, guilt mixing with the frustration. You didn’t mean any of it—not really—but the pain had twisted everything inside you, and you couldn’t help but lash out. The guilt made it worse, made your heart ache even through the physical agony.

"I’m sorry," you gasped between ragged breaths. "I don’t… I don’t mean it, I just—" another contraction cut you off, and you screamed, pushing as hard as you could. The burn was intense, and you could feel the baby’s head beginning to crown.

"You’re okay, you’re okay," Jake murmured, his forehead resting against yours now, his voice a grounding force in the chaos. "You’ve got this. You’re almost there, sweetheart."

You bore down again, your whole body trembling as you pushed with everything you had left. The pain was searing, and you could feel the baby’s head stretching you, the sensation overwhelming.

"I swear this kid has your huge head!" you groaned again, your voice a mix of pain and humour as you struggled to keep going.

The doctor’s voice cut through, sharp and encouraging. "One more big push, Y/N. The head’s almost out."

You clenched your jaw, took a deep breath, and pushed again, harder than before. The pressure built to an unbearable peak, and then—

Suddenly, the pain shifted. There was a release, and the tension in your body eased. You gasped for air, your heart pounding in your chest, and then, you heard it—a sharp, clear cry that echoed through the room.

The baby’s first cry.

Tears welled up in your eyes as the doctor held up the tiny, wriggling form for you to see. "It’s a girl!" she announced, and for a moment, all the pain, all the exhaustion, melted away. Your heart swelled as you looked at her—your baby girl.

Jake let out a shaky breath beside you, his voice breaking as he whispered, "We have a daughter."

You watched through tear-filled eyes as the nurse cleaned her up, bringing her over and placing her carefully in your arms. She was so small, her little face scrunched up, her tiny fists waving in the air. You felt Jake’s arm around your shoulders, his hand resting gently on your baby girl’s head as the two of you gazed down at her.

All the pain, all the frustration and discomfort—it didn’t matter anymore. You smiled softly, still breathless, tears rolling down your cheeks as you cradled your daughter to your chest.

"She’s perfect," you whispered, your voice filled with awe.

Jake leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You’re perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "You did it, darlin’. You brought our little girl into the world."

As the room quieted, the nurses moved about with practiced ease, cleaning and tidying up, but all your attention was on Jake and your baby girl. After a moment of letting you hold her, Jake gently reached down, his large hands cradling her tiny form as he took her from your arms, holding her with such tenderness that it made your heart ache. The way he looked at her—with awe, love, and the purest joy—made your breath catch.

But as soon as she left your arms, a wave of emotion hit you like a tidal wave. You were still shaky, still exhausted from labor, but now a new weight settled over your chest. The words you’d shouted, the anger, the frustration—all of it came flooding back. You hadn’t meant any of it, but you couldn’t shake the guilt that twisted in your stomach.

You looked over at Jake, watching him coo softly to your baby girl, his thumb brushing over her cheek as she wriggled slightly in his arms. The sight should have filled you with nothing but joy, but instead, tears welled up in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks before you could even try to hold them back.

You wiped at your face, embarrassed by the sudden flood of emotions, but it only made the tears come harder. The sobs were quiet at first, but soon, your shoulders shook with the force of them, each breath hitching in your chest.

Jake’s head whipped toward you immediately. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft but urgent. He moved closer, still holding your daughter, his brow furrowed in concern. “Are you in pain? What’s going on?”

You shook your head, unable to speak through the lump in your throat. You tried to take a deep breath, but it only made the sobs come harder. The guilt weighed on you, heavy and crushing, and you couldn’t stop the words that tumbled out.

“I’m sorry, Jake,” you choked, your voice barely a whisper through the tears. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Jake’s eyes softened, and he knelt beside you, carefully balancing your daughter in his arms while reaching out to take your hand. “Sorry? Darlin’, you don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

But you couldn’t stop. The guilt gnawed at you, every word you’d said during labor echoing in your mind. “I yelled at you. I—I said such awful things. I blamed you, and it wasn’t your fault. I didn’t mean any of it, Jake, I swear, I didn’t.” Your voice broke again, tears streaming down your face as you looked at him through blurry eyes.

Jake’s face softened even more, his expression full of understanding and love. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “You just went through hell bringing our little girl into the world. You were in pain. I know you didn’t mean any of that.”

You sniffled, wiping at your cheeks, but the tears wouldn’t stop. “But I—” you started, but Jake leaned in closer, cutting you off gently.

“No buts,” he whispered, his voice firm but filled with warmth. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for. I love you, and I’m so damn proud of you. You were incredible, Y/N. And our little girl is here because of you.” His gaze flickered down to the tiny bundle in his arms, her little eyes closed as she slept soundly.

You let out a shaky breath, your sobs quieting but still present as you watched Jake cradle your daughter so carefully. “I just… I feel so bad,” you whispered, your chest still tight with guilt. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

Jake leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before he pulled back. “Darlin’, you could’ve called me every name in the book, and I still wouldn’t hold it against you. You brought our baby into the world. That’s all that matters.”

You looked up at him, your vision still blurred with tears, but his words cut through the guilt, soothing the ache in your heart. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he looked at you with so much love and admiration.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice shaky but filled with emotion.

“I love you too,” Jake replied softly, his eyes never leaving yours as he gently shifted your daughter back into your arms. The warmth of her tiny body against yours made your heart swell, the tears still slipping down your cheeks, but this time, they were different. The guilt was still there, but it was fading, replaced by the overwhelming love you felt for your little family.

Jake sat beside you on the bed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as you held your daughter between you. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. “And now we’ve got this perfect little girl. We did it, darlin’.”

You nodded, sniffling as you looked down at your baby, the small miracle you and Jake had brought into the world. And despite the exhaustion, despite the tears, you couldn’t help but smile through it all. You had your family, and that was everything.

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Part 3

[dcxdpdabbles]

Do you have any plans to continue https://www.tumblr.com/dcxdpdabbles/758079736394170368/dcxdp-fanfic-idea-lights-and-camera?source=share ?

It's just so good!

Tim was in the fetal position in the corner of his closet. The rest of his team was trying to coax him out with various offerings- Kon held up soda, Cassie had steaming brownies, and Bart was waving around comics- but nothing seemed to be enough to get Tim to crawl out of his hiding place.

Dick watched form the bedroom doorway, wondering if the Young Justice team were able to handle another one of Tim's meltdowns. He figured he would give them the benefit of the doubt and let them handle things until he needed to step in.

"Psh psh psh" Kon coos, croching just outside the open doorway of he closet. "Here, Timmy, Timmy, come on out, buddy. Psh psh psh"

"He's not a cat, Kon!" Cassie sighs before she lowers her voice in a sharp command while snapping her fingers. "Timothy. Come! Now, boy, come here!"

"Treating him like a dog isn't going to work either, Cassie." Bart laughs, looking far too amused to be leaning over the heavy hitters of his team.

Dick wasn't entirely sure what Tim had said to the Ghost King but whatever he said was bad enough that he had ran straight to his room and thrown himself dramatically in the closet with a wail. It's a strange habit he's had since he was young.

Once Dick witnissed Tim hide inside his closet for missing a step at WE and rolling down the stairs. Instead of being mad that he broke his leg, Tim was more horrified that the people in the lobby had watched him fall.

If Kryptonite was enough to stop Superman, Public Embarrassment was enough to stop Red Robin.

"I can never be seen by mortal eyes again!" Tim wails, hand reaching out to snatch the brownies from Cassie's hands. His following words were muffled somewhat by the treat he attempted to eat in one bite. "I told the prettiest boy to ever walk the Earth that I wanted to get him out of his pants for the right price and he thinks I called him a whore when I meant I wanted to buy his pants!"

"Just tell him, English is your second language, and you messed up the translation!" Bart offered cheerfully. "You can pretend to be Russian!"

"Or French," Conner counters, wagging his eyebrows. "You know the language of love. Let that pretty boy know what your intentions are."

"I think he let his intentions be known pretty well when he offered that money to get that boy out of his pants. How much was it again, Tim? A hundred dollars?"

The wailing increases in volume and Dick sighs deeply. He uncrosses his arms, moving away from where he was leaning on the door. Kon already knew he was there, but Bart and Cassie both sent him surprised looks when he moved to crouch down beside them.

It was always fun to scare people with the training that Bruce had carefully taught him.

He smiles at the sight of his brother, who is now lying on his side, in the fetal position. Tim was attempting to eat the brownies from the corner of his mouth, tears rolling down his face, and looking for all intents and purposes like he was having a proper meltdown.

"Hey there bu-dy" Dick sings grinning when Tim's eyes sharpen long enough to realize he's just teasing before he goes back to attempting to become one with the floor. "Bruce wants to have a debrief on how to apologize to the library boy."

"What?" Tim blinks, lifitng his head slightly to give Dick a overly hopeful expression. There are brief flashes as thoughts race through Tim's mind, reflecting in his eyes before he seems to brighten. "Bruce got me a second chance!?"

"Officially, this is to prevent a level 15 threat from destroying half the planet over a potential personal offense." Dick shrugs smiling more as Tim sits up, wiping the crumbs from his face. "Unofficially, he doesn't like his son to be heartbroken and set up a chance for you to apologize with the Level 15 threat."

"I'm sorry, what do you mean the library boy is a level 15 threat?" Kon cuts in, voice flat. "Was he not just some guy who could make really cool Fandom clothes?"

"Oh, Danny is the Ghost King, but that's beside the point,t" Dick waves his hand dismissively. "We have to go over the advice I gave you. I honestly don't understand how you butchered it that badly."

"You said to complement his interests!" Tim counters angrily. "To avoid giving compliments that involved his appearance, especially if it wasn't something he could change! I did, and all that happened was that he got upset!"

"Yeah, that's why Bruce set up an entire simulation in the cave, for you to practice with, because honestly, Tim, how could you mess up that badly with simple instructions?"

"I have to agree with Disco-man," Cassie says, disappointed. You need training before you talk to the Library boy.

[theonottsbxtch]

GHOST OF HER | LN4

an: i can't remember which song inspired me to write this, but i had it on loop and cried and wrote this so please enjoy this angst

wc: 3.4k

synopis: lando and his girlfriend had been broken up for 6 months, he tried to make it work with the new girl, he really did. but lando never moved on - he just coped and when his new girl was getting jealous,t here was only so much he could take.

IT HAD BEEN SEVEN MONTHS SINCE SHE'D LEFT.

Seven months since she packed her bags, closed the door behind her, and never looked back. Seven months since he sat on the floor of their flat, staring at the dent in the carpet where her suitcase had been, replaying every second of the moment she walked away. He had thought she was the one. The love of his life. The mother of his future children. The woman he’d grow old with.

And then, one evening, with no warning he could stomach, she was gone.

For the first few months, he didn’t feel real. He moved through Monaco’s streets like a ghost, haunting the bars, slipping between soft bodies and red-painted lips, drowning in perfume that wasn’t hers. One night after another, a different name, a different bed, hands on his skin that felt like nothing at all. It should have helped. It didn’t.

Eventually, he settled. A girl, warm and bright and willing, started staying the night. Then a few nights. Then most nights. Until, at some point, it just became them. She loved him. He just about liked her.

She knew, of course. Not at first, not completely, but she must have suspected. The way his fingers lingered on the pages of books that weren’t his. The way he pulled away in the mornings, something unreadable in his expression when he stared at the chair in the corner of the room where a silk scarf—one that wasn’t hers—was draped over the backrest.

The first time she saw the bracelet, she said nothing. Just glanced at it in the dish on his nightstand and looked away.

The second time, she reached for it. Let it pool in her palm. Ran her thumb over the clasp like she wanted to break it.

“This is hers, isn’t it?”

He didn’t need to ask who she meant.

He barely looked up from his phone. “I’ll get rid of it.”

A lie.

She scoffed, but she didn’t argue. Didn’t snap at him, didn’t throw it at the wall like maybe she wanted to. Instead, she set it back down with too much care, like even she didn’t want to be the one to shatter it.

It wasn’t just the bracelet. It was the scarf still draped over the chair in the corner, silk pooling like a ghost had just slipped it from their shoulders. It was the row of books on the shelf, the ones with dog-eared pages and underlined passages, ones she had once traced her fingers over while leaning into his side, ones that weren’t his. It was the perfume in the bathroom, untouched but never fading, its scent still thick in the air long after she had gone.

It was the way he looked at all of it, not like objects, not even like memories, but like a wound he refused to let heal.

She should have left by now.

Instead, she stood by the bed, arms folded, breathing too carefully. “Do you even want to move on?”

Her voice was quieter this time. Uncertain. Tired.

Lando should have lied.

Should have reached for her hand, should have told her he did, of course he did, of course she was enough. It would have been easier. Kinder.

Instead, he exhaled slowly, staring at the bracelet, and said nothing at all.

She waited.

For a moment, maybe two, she stood there, arms still folded, waiting for something—an answer, a denial, a lie she could cling to. But Lando had nothing to give her. He just sat there, his gaze fixed on the bracelet, his silence stretching between them like an open wound.

Eventually, she exhaled, shaking her head, muttering something under her breath that he didn’t quite catch. Then she climbed into bed beside him, turning onto her side, away from him, pulling the covers up to her shoulder.

She wasn’t leaving. Not yet.

She never did, even though he half-expected her to.

She was the kind of girl who wanted to be enough, who believed if she just stayed, just held on a little longer, maybe one day he’d look at her like he once looked at the ghost she was trying to replace.

But she wasn’t her.

And he would never look at her like that.

She was gone by morning.

Not for good—just to work, or wherever she went when she wasn’t here. She left a mug in the sink, a damp towel on the bathroom floor, her perfume lingering in the air. A presence. A reminder that she was real, that she existed, that she loved him.

He should have cared more than he did.

Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the bracelet, the indent of her head still on the pillow beside him.

He should have thrown it away by now.

That was what normal people did, wasn’t it? Moved on. Let go. Cleared the space in their lives for something new, something better, something real.

He reached for it. Just held it for a moment, turning it over between his fingers.

The clasp was a little loose. It always had been. He remembered fastening it for her once, standing behind her in the mirror, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder as he did. She had smiled at him then, one of those soft, effortless smiles that made him believe in things like forever.

Forever.

What a fucking joke.

He dropped the bracelet back into the dish, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Maybe tonight he’d tell her to stop asking. Maybe tonight he’d finally lie, say he loved her, say he was ready to move on.

Maybe tonight he’d even believe it.

But not this morning. Not yet.

He got up, stepped over the towel she left on the floor, and went to take a shower.

By the time she had returned that evening, Lando had poured himself a drink.

It wasn’t a bad habit. Not really. Not yet. One glass, maybe two, something smooth and expensive, the kind of drink that suited a man who was supposed to have his life together. But that was the thing about grief, wasn’t it? It didn’t care how much money you had, how many women warmed your bed, how many times you told yourself you were fine. It still sat in your chest like rot, eating you from the inside out.

The flat was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of whisky and something else—something heavier. The weight of the past, maybe. He leaned against the counter, fingers curled around the glass, swirling the amber liquid slowly, staring at nothing in particular.

She dropped her bag by the door, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor as she stepped towards him.

“You forgot, didn’t you?”

His fingers tightened around the glass. “Forgot what?”

She gave him a look. “We’re supposed to be going out tonight. Drinks with the other drivers. You said we would.”

Lando exhaled through his nose, tipping his head back, downing the rest of his whisky in one go. The burn in his throat was welcome.

She sighed but didn’t argue. Instead, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “I’m going to get ready.”

And with that, she disappeared into the bedroom.

He stood there for a moment, rolling his shoulders back, rubbing a hand across his jaw. He should have told her no. Should have said he wasn’t in the mood, that he was tired, that he had a meeting in the morning. But he didn’t.

Instead, he pushed off the counter and followed her lead.

By the time she reappeared, he had already changed—dark shirt, tailored trousers, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. A mask of effort, of normalcy, of a man who was trying.

She disappeared into the bathroom, and he barely paid it any mind. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on his watch, focusing on the way the leather strap felt against his skin. He could hear the faint sound of water running, the click of bottles, the rustle of fabric. Normal sounds. Domestic sounds.

And then—

Then he smelt it.

It wasn’t strong. Not yet. Just the faintest trace of something familiar, something he hadn’t smelt in a long time but would recognise anywhere. His muscles locked up before he could stop himself.

No.

It wasn’t possible.

The door opened, and she stepped out, smoothing down the hem of her dress. His stomach twisted as she walked towards him, as the scent followed her, as it wrapped around him like invisible hands, clawing at his throat.

That perfume.

Her perfume.

She came up behind him, looping her arms around his waist, resting her chin on his shoulder. Her voice was soft, teasing.

“Baby, I didn’t see the gift you left me in the cabinet.”

His blood ran cold.

The perfume.

The bottle he had bought months ago. The one he never got the chance to give her. The one that had sat untouched, hidden away, waiting.

It had always been hers.

And now—now it was on someone else’s skin.

His jaw clenched so tightly it ached. His hands curled into fists against his thighs.

He should have said something. Laughed it off, pulled her closer, kissed the side of her head and pretended it was nothing.

But he couldn’t breathe past the scent. Couldn’t think past the memory of her, of bare shoulders and laughter in the early hours, of soft kisses and whispered promises, of a love that had never been meant to last.

She squeezed his waist lightly. “Shall we go?”

Lando swallowed, forcing himself to nod.

“Yeah,” he said, voice hollow. “Let’s go.”

And just like that, he let another ghost haunt him into the night.

The bar was crowded, warm with bodies and the hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, the occasional burst of laughter from somewhere in the background. Lando was there, physically, but he wasn’t really there.

He nursed his drink, ice melting, condensation pooling against his fingertips. The others talked, joked, shared stories, but he barely listened. His responses were automatic, nods at the right moments, half-hearted smiles that didn’t quite reach his eyes. She was beside him, her hand resting on his thigh under the table, fingers curling gently, possessively. But he felt nothing.

The scent of her perfume was still clinging to her skin, drifting towards him every time she shifted. It was suffocating. Drenched in memories he didn’t want to touch.

At some point, she turned to him, nudging his arm. “You alright?”

He nodded, took another sip of his drink. “Fine.”

She frowned, unconvinced, but didn’t push. Not yet.

The night dragged. The drinks kept coming. Someone cracked a joke, and she laughed, leaning into him, her lips brushing his jaw as she whispered something playful in his ear. A private joke, something meant to tether him to her, to now.

But it didn’t work.

Because all he could think about was how she used to do the same. How she used to lean in close, her breath warm against his skin, whispering words that only belonged to them.

And now she was gone. And he was here. And none of it felt right.

They got home late.

She kicked off her heels with a sigh, rubbing at the ache in her feet. He went straight to the kitchen.

She watched him from the doorway as he flicked on the kettle, moving through the motions with quiet precision. Reaching for a mug, dropping in a teabag, waiting as the water boiled. She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe.

“Are you going to tell me what your deal is?”

Lando didn’t answer straight away. He poured the water, let it steep, added just a splash of milk. Stirred slowly.

Her patience frayed. “You’ve been a million miles away all night.”

Still, he didn’t reply. Just reached for his mug.

It wasn’t just any mug. It was hers.

White ceramic, worn from use, their thumbprints pressed into the glaze in the shape of a heart—a stupid, sentimental thing she had made them buy at a tiny shop near the marina. He should have thrown it away months ago. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

He wrapped his hands around it, the warmth seeping into his skin.

She exhaled sharply, a scoff laced with frustration. “You don’t even care, do you?”

He lifted the mug to his lips, took a slow sip. The tea was still too hot, but he barely felt it.

She let out a huff, pushing herself off the doorframe. “Forget it.”

Her footsteps were sharp as she walked away, leaving him standing there in the dim kitchen, alone with his ghosts.

And he let her go.

Again.

The following morning, Lando had a meeting and then was set to play a round of padel with Max.

He woke early, the flat still silent, the weight of last night pressing into his skull like a dull ache. She was still in bed, turned away from him, her breathing slow and even. Asleep, or pretending to be. Either way, he didn’t wake her.

He showered, dressed, and grabbed a coffee on his way out, barely taking a sip before setting it down on the counter. His shirt and shorts matched, his watch fastened, everything in place. From the outside, he looked put together. Like a man who had somewhere to be, something to do, a life moving forward.

But his mind was elsewhere.

He barely remembered the drive to his meeting, barely listened as Zak spoke, nodding at the right moments, offering clipped responses. When it was over, he checked his phone, saw a message from Max confirming the padel court reservation. A part of him considered cancelling, but he didn’t. He needed the distraction.

So he pushed it all down—the night before, the scent of perfume that wasn’t hers, the weight of a mug he should have let go of long ago.

And he left.

She didn’t know what made her do it, but the minute the door locked behind him, she grabbed a bin bag and started throwing his ex’s things inside.

The scarf first. The one draped over the chair in the corner, untouched but ever-present. Then the books. The ones he never read but never moved, the ones with underlined passages that weren’t his. They went into the bag without hesitation.

Her pulse pounded.

She moved to the bathroom, yanking open the cabinet. The perfume bottle sat there, half-used, a reminder, a relic. Her stomach twisted.

She grabbed it, her grip tightening around the glass.

It should have been hers.

All of this should have been hers. The flat, the space in his life, the love he never gave her but still bled for someone else.

She hurled the bottle into the bin bag, the sound of glass hitting plastic sharp in the silence.

And still, it wasn’t enough.

She wanted to wipe her from existence. Wanted to strip the flat of every trace, every lingering ghost. She wanted him to have no choice but to look at her—to really look at her—and see what was in front of him, not what he had lost.

But no matter how much she binned, she knew.

She would never be enough.

She tied the bag, dragging it to the door, her breath unsteady.

And then she waited.

Waited for him to come home. Waited to see if he would even notice.

Waited to see if he would finally let go—or if, once again, he would let her be the only one left hurting.

The moment Lando stepped through the door, he knew.

The air felt wrong. Lighter. Emptier.

His gaze flickered around the flat, his stomach twisting before his mind even caught up. The chair in the corner—bare. The bathroom cabinet—door slightly ajar, something missing. The bookshelf—space where there hadn’t been space before.

His chest tightened.

Slowly, he set his keys down on the counter, his fingers pressing against the cool surface as he exhaled through his nose, steadying himself.

She appeared from the hallway, arms crossed, her expression tense. She had been waiting.

“You binned them,” he said, voice eerily calm.

She lifted her chin. “I—”

His jaw clenched. “Where?”

She hesitated. “Lando—”

“Where.”

Her eyes flicked towards the door. The bin bag sat there, tied up neatly, waiting to be taken out. Waiting to be erased.

Something in him snapped.

She started speaking again, her voice tight with frustration. “You can’t seriously be angry about this. I mean, for God’s sake, Lando—this is pathetic! You’re holding onto a relationship that doesn’t exist anymore. She left. She’s not coming back.”

His hands curled into fists at his sides.

“I’ve been patient,” she continued, stepping closer. “I’ve given you time, I’ve let you grieve, but I will not—”

“Get out.”

Her breath hitched.

“What?”

His eyes locked onto hers, cold and unreadable.

“Get. Out.”

For a moment, neither of them moved.

She searched his face like she was looking for something—doubt, regret, anything that would tell her this was just a knee-jerk reaction, something she could talk him out of.

But there was nothing.

Just silence.

Just the weight of the choice she had forced him to make.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “You’re really doing this?”

He said nothing.

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped her lips, but it held no real humour. “You’re throwing me out over some rubbish?”

Still, he said nothing.

Because it wasn’t about the things. Not really. It was about what they meant. What they were.

The last remnants of something he couldn’t let go of.

She let out a slow, measured breath, her gaze dark with something between anger and hurt. Then, with a sharp nod, she turned.

No pleading. No final words.

Just the sound of her heels clicking against the floor as she grabbed her bag, yanked open the door, and stepped out.

The second the door slammed shut, the flat was quiet again.

Lando closed his eyes, exhaling slowly, pressing the heels of his palms against his temples.

The scent of that fucking perfume still clung to the air.

And he had never felt more alone.

Lando barely made it to the kitchen before his legs gave out.

His back hit the counter as he slid down onto the cold floor, his breathing ragged, his hands shaking where they rested uselessly in his lap. His throat was tight, unbearably tight, and he let his head fall back against the cabinets, squeezing his eyes shut.

But it didn’t help.

Because the moment he closed them, she was there.

Not the one who had just walked out.

Her.

Sat on the sofa next to him, knees drawn up, a book open in her lap. He could see the way her lips moved as she read under her breath, the way she twirled a loose strand of hair around her finger without even realising she was doing it. He could see the crease between her brows, the small frown she always made when she reached a part she didn’t like.

His chest ached.

He opened his eyes, but it didn’t stop.

She was perched on the countertop now, bare legs swinging, watching him as he pulled food from takeaway bags, her laughter warm and teasing.

"Did you really have to order this much?"

He could almost hear himself scoff, the way he’d rolled his eyes, handing her a container. "You say that now, but you’ll be the first to complain when I don’t share."

The memory hit like a punch to the ribs.

He turned his head, desperate to shake it, but she was still there.

In nothing but her underwear, sprinting down the hallway, shrieking with laughter as he chased her with a pair of dirty socks.

"Lando, I swear to God—"

He had caught her, tackled her onto the bed, their limbs tangled, their laughter dissolving into breathless kisses, into whispered I love yous against each other’s skin.

His vision blurred.

The flat was empty. Silent. Cold.

But he could still hear her.

Still hear that laugh, bright and unrestrained. Still hear the way she used to call his name, still hear the way she used to hum under her breath in the mornings, the way she used to say I love you like it was the easiest thing in the world.

The sob tore out of him before he could stop it.

Then another.

And another.

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, but the tears kept coming, hot and unrelenting, his chest heaving, his whole body shaking.

She was everywhere.

In the walls. In the air. In him.

And no matter how much time passed, no matter how many times he tried to move forward, no matter how many people tried to take her place—

She was still his.

And he would never, never be hers again.

the end.

taglist: @lilorose25 @curseofhecate @number-0-iz @dozyisdead @dragonfly047 @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @sluttyharry30 @n0vazsq @carlossainzapologist @iamred-iamyellow @iimplicitt @driverlando @geauxharry @hzstry

[multific]

More Than a Gamble

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary: You and Mattheo have been secretly dating, and though you love him, you hate hiding.

The Slytherin common room was dimly lit, the glow of emerald flames flickering against the stone walls.

You moved quietly through the space, your heart fluttering with excitement.

It had been weeks since you and Mattheo started sneaking around together, stealing kisses in empty corridors, meeting in secret corners of the castle. Every touch, every whispered word had convinced you that what you had was real.

You loved him.

And even though you hated keeping your relationship a secret, you held onto the hope that soon, things would change. That one day, he would hold your hand in front of everyone.

But as you neared the hallway leading to the boys’ dormitories, voices carried through the air.

You froze.

“Alright, mate, just admit it,” Theodore’s voice was laced with amusement. “We all knew about the bet. We knew you were dating her.”

Your stomach twisted.

“What’s your point, Nott?” Mattheo’s voice came next, steady, unreadable.

“The point is,” Theo continued, “you lost.” He chuckled. “You were supposed to take her out once. One date. But what’s it been now? Over a month? Don’t tell me you actually caught feelings.”

A cold weight settled in your chest.

Mattheo had to ask you out on a date… as a bet?

Your world blurred as silence stretched between them, each second suffocating you.

Then, finally, Mattheo spoke.

His voice was quiet, but the words were clear.

“I don’t regret it.”

The weight in your chest cracked open into something sharp.

You turned and ran.

You barely registered the sound of your own sobs as you ran through the corridors. You didn’t care if anyone saw you. Didn’t care if they heard. You just needed to be alone.

You threw yourself onto your bed, curling in on yourself as the tears kept coming.

It had been a lie. All of it.

The touches, the kisses, the promises and the late-night whispers.

Had he ever truly wanted you? Or were you just a game to him?

The door to your dorm burst open.

“Y/N.”

You shivered at the sound of his voice.

Mattheo stood in the doorway, his chest rising and falling as he had run straight from the common room. His dark curls were a mess, his lips parted, his eyes filled with something close to desperation.

“Please,” he breathed, stepping inside. “Just-just listen.”

You swallowed, forcing yourself to sit up. Your voice trembled. “So it’s true?”

Mattheo flinched. “No.” Then he exhaled sharply. “I mean-yes, but not the way you think.”

A bitter laugh escaped you. “Not the way I think? You made a bet, Mattheo. A bet to take me on a date. Was anything real?”

He took a step closer, his hands clenched at his sides. “You. You were real.”

Tears stung your eyes again. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

His jaw tightened. “Because I was a coward.” His voice cracked, and he ran a hand through his hair. “I never thought I’d fall for you. I asked you out for a stupid, stupid reason. But that first night, when you laughed at something I said when you looked at me like I wasn’t just some reckless bastard, that made it real. And every moment after that was never a joke to me. I never told you because I was afraid you’d walk away.” He let out a shaky breath. “And I couldn’t lose you.”

You stared at him, heart pounding.

Mattheo Riddle, proud and untouchable, stood before you completely unravelled.

And despite everything, despite the pain, you still loved him.

“I hate what you did to me,” you whispered.

“I hate myself for it,” he admitted. “But I swear to you, I would never hurt you like that again.” He stepped closer, reaching out hesitantly. “I love you, Y/N. And if you tell me it’s over, I’ll walk away. But if there’s any part of you that still believes in us-” He swallowed hard. “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that I never needed a bet to want you.”

You closed your eyes, your heart waging war against your mind.

But when his fingers brushed yours you realized the truth.

You still wanted him.

But you were no fool.

"I want to believe, I really do. But... I was hiding my love for you, and you played me. I cannot look past that. You lied to me."

"Y/N, please I really meant what I said, I want you. I don't want to hide anymore."

"Would you have said the same if I didn't overhear you? Would you have said that you love me?"

"I don't want to lose you."

"You lost me the moment you played me. Please, leave. I need to be alone." you turned away from him, you only heard as he closed the door behind himself.

You wanted to believe him. But this truly hurt. Knowing he only started dating you because of a bet. Now, all of his words seemed like a lie.

---

Days passed and although Mattheo followed you almost like a lost puppy, you tried your best to ignore him.

He tried to find opportunities to speak to you, but you didn't allow it. You ran away. You figured he would give up.

He will move on.

He will find a new girl to play with.

You just had to hold out until then.

But then days turned into a week, a week turned into a month.

Now the entire school was whispering about you and Mattheo.

He didn't give up.

It got to a point where you had to hide from him, hiding in the school grounds. You finally managed to find a tree that hid you from the others.

But of course, Mattheo found you.

"Can I sit?" he asked but you didn't look up from your book. He sat down next to you on the ground, he kept his distance.

Everything in you told you to leave, except for your heart.

Your heart, as if it had its own way of life, begged for you to go to him so he could hold you as if your heart was missing its other half.

And what your heart desired, made your mind daydream. You were reminded of the way everything used to be.

How you two were hiding behind trees and bushes, how he looked at you. How he still looks at you.

You looked up from your book just as he got ready to light his cigarette.

You groaned and reached out, snatching it from his lips, you broke the thing in half.

"I told you to quit," you said before moving back to your place and trying your best to read your book.

But you were only pretending. You could see him watching you from the corner of your eye.

"I want you back. I need you. I don't think you truly understand just how much." you looked up at him from your book, his eyes were intense, and they held meaning and purpose.

You closed your eyes for a moment, you needed to think. Your next move will decide everything, the weight of that almost crushed you.

So you opened your eyes and whispered, “Then prove it.”

And he did, he moved so fast, your mind didn't even register it.

You only realised that he was right in front of you when his lips met yours, it wasn’t just a kiss.

It was a promise.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

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